In the maturing stages of dealing in the No Job Vacuum - 6 months in - I am not modest about much. Indeed, the stigma once attached to being laid off is a laughing matter these days, when more than half of the parents in the Orthodontist's waiting room are fathers. So I'm not going to be bashful when I tell you that I am one of those shallow Americans Kurt Anderson describes in his article "The End Of Excess" in this week's issue of Time. Anderson writes that the excesses we've experienced during the Reagan-and-beyond years were so bizarrely taken for granted, that "even smart, proudly rational people engaged in magical thinking, acting as if the new power of the Internet and its New Economy would miraculously make everything copacetic... We all clapped our hands and believed in fairies."
Since the bubble burst, I've asked out loud: Did people really not question 12% annual dividends on the money they invested with Madoff, even in recessionary cycles? Did we really drive by 25,000sf homes and sigh at the beauty and grandeur? Were millions of dollars in bonus honestly the norm?
The Time cover article positions the fact that the Screeching Halt is good, healthy, positive. Though we didn't ask for it, we all - every one of us - agree. We've got to agree, we're in it, what's to fight? In a quiet moment, do we close our eyes tight and wish it would all go away? Absolutely. But here we are. We're mid-diet and haven't lost the weight. We're partway through summer camp and we want to go home. We're 2 hours into a 16 hour car ride through the Plain States. Even given our epic denial before all this went down, we Americans are American - we'll make it through, stronger, intact. We've spoken out loud our worst case scenario: we'll lose the house. We'll have to move. We'll spend every dime of our savings. But we'll be alive and together.
John and my parents teamed up to give me an experience for my Christmas present this year. John used his last airmiles to get me to Italy. My parents met me there and covered accomodations and food. I spent 6 days around Rome last week with not even a camera. I was with my parents, basked in being taken care of, the 45-year-old dependant, their child. I didn't reach for the bill, I didn't plan the itinerary. Their gift to me was the opportunity to get out of my skin.
It was heavenly. We read a paper maybe twice. The stories played like celebrity news from that distance: American grown ups getting on buses to drive by the homes of AIG executives; Obama's Press Secretary scoffing at Dick Cheney for saying our war in Afghanistan was reckless; American auto brands disappearing because there's no market for gigantic vehicles. All this, while riding around Italian villages in a dented Fiat with a stick shift. Such perspective. I didn't want to leave.
I did not want to leave. My beloved children were sending me texts, and my hard-working Husband was fighting the good fight back in Connecticut, and yet there was a small voice in my head that said "drop your Passport in the toilet and FLUSH!"
Getting out of my skin felt so incredibly good. I'd forgotten what it was like for time to fly because I was having fun. I wandered from catacomb to catacomb with no extra weight. The message is good. We must get out of our skin, we need to lose the weight. But given that, what idiot wants to go back?
When only 2 days remained of this glorious Roman holiday, I asked myself - is it worth it? If I know how hard it is to go home, so hard I feel dread, nausea, why on earth do I subject myself to the pain? Why go at all?
The answer, friends, is of course it's worth it. We cannot cope, we cannot guide, we cannot laugh even the shallow laughs without taking the break. You snicker because my break was in Rome, who'd say no? Our opportunities to peel out of this skin can be far or near. Going to the Y for a swim doesn't count. An exhibit at the Met followed by a $10 glass of wine does. Because that's the escape it's hard to go home from.
So we admit it, we were in denial during the boom time, we embraced the bons temps rouler attitude and we reaped the riches. But we can't make where we are go away. This crisis, as Kurt Anderson writes in Time, will define us. Get out of your skin, though, take back a little denial. It'll get you through.
3.30.2009
3.11.2009
SERVE THIS - TONIGHT
The next recipe in a series about how to cope. Friends, when you or your Partner lose your job, nausea prevails. You can't feed yourself and you can't feed others. The grocery store is a vast tundra. This is easier than easy, all you need is a source for great white fish. Go, get it, and cook this NOW!
WHITE BEAN AND HALIBUT STEW
Prep Time: all of 15 minutes
Total Time: maybe 30 minutes
What you need:
4 thick cut bacon slices, scissored up (or chopped if you still chop)
3 shallots, sliced
3 Tbsp Olive Oil
6 garlic cloves, however you like your garlic: sliced, chopped, mushed up
1 8 oz bottle clam juice
1 14.5 oz can diced tomoatoes in juice
1/3 c dry white wine
1/2 tsp pinch saffron threads
1 15 ox cans little white beans ("navy beans"), drained
1.5 lb halibut or Chilean sea bass filets - cut into 2" chunks
Saute bacon and shallots in a large pot until bacon is crisp - 5 mins or so. Add olive oil and garlic, stir a minute. Add clam juice, tomatoes and juice, wine and saffron threads, boil - then simmer for 5 minutes. Add beans and fish. Cover and simmer until fish is cooked thru, maybe 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve with brocooli rabe, green salad, bread and cheese.
* Inspired by an old recipe from Bon Appetit. I could eat it every day and if I was served it at a restaurant I'd ask to speak with the Chef. It's that good. Great blend of saffron and garlic and fish that doesn't end up tasting like any of the above. Enjoy. Don't worry. Breath.
WHITE BEAN AND HALIBUT STEW
Prep Time: all of 15 minutes
Total Time: maybe 30 minutes
What you need:
4 thick cut bacon slices, scissored up (or chopped if you still chop)
3 shallots, sliced
3 Tbsp Olive Oil
6 garlic cloves, however you like your garlic: sliced, chopped, mushed up
1 8 oz bottle clam juice
1 14.5 oz can diced tomoatoes in juice
1/3 c dry white wine
1/2 tsp pinch saffron threads
1 15 ox cans little white beans ("navy beans"), drained
1.5 lb halibut or Chilean sea bass filets - cut into 2" chunks
Saute bacon and shallots in a large pot until bacon is crisp - 5 mins or so. Add olive oil and garlic, stir a minute. Add clam juice, tomatoes and juice, wine and saffron threads, boil - then simmer for 5 minutes. Add beans and fish. Cover and simmer until fish is cooked thru, maybe 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve with brocooli rabe, green salad, bread and cheese.
* Inspired by an old recipe from Bon Appetit. I could eat it every day and if I was served it at a restaurant I'd ask to speak with the Chef. It's that good. Great blend of saffron and garlic and fish that doesn't end up tasting like any of the above. Enjoy. Don't worry. Breath.
3.05.2009
WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?
Times are inarguably tough. When effected by them as we are, it is natural to look for something, someone to blame. Gail Collins wrote this morning in her OpEd entitled "The Rant List" that, with the likes of former Countrywide Execs making money in the after-market of failed mortgages (the mortgages they themselves convinced so many of us to obtain) and wacko former Gov. Rod Blagojevich's book deal (what about him is compelling enough to warrant 300 pages?), we have to prioritise just who we get upset with. "Lately", Collins opines, "the unfairness bulletins have been coming so fast and furious that there isn't time to get upset about all of them."
It isn't fair! We are paying for the waste of precious resources all around us. For decisions made by other human beings, by people we pass in the grocery store! We can pin the blame on any number of individuals and groups, but what does that do? John walks along a precipice every day, of blame and anger. I was advised by a friend recently that if we do more than just acknowledge that anger, we will invite it into our lives - Anmarie cautions from experience in the No Job vacuum that it will be an invitation that gives the go-ahead to our worst case scenario.
I'll make you a different invitation. This has been a relatively silent week in our house. Nothing's tangible, but in order to get out of bed in the morning we've redefined opportunity; considering a 15-minute phone conversation not just another dead-end , but an interesting contact, maybe in time, a job lead.
So times are tough - we have to grab the Grace where we can. Here's where I've gotten it this week:
The Bird and the Bee - John, Karen and I went to a $22/ticket show on Tuesday night featuring the unabashedly optimistic Indy/Pop band The Bird and the Bee. Inara George uses clapping, smiling, laughing and amazing lyrics to entertain, she fronts 3 awesome women accompanied by a quiet electronica wizard. The women wore short monochromatic a-line dresses and flats, they all matched, and the show was like being a fly (or a bee, in this case) on the wall of a fabulous girl's night out. Download their first album aptly named "The Bird and the Bee" and their latest, "Ray Guns are not just the Future". For a quick hit of their joie de vivre, watch their recent performance on the Ellen show through their website: http://www.thebirdandthebee.com/
YourStartUpStory.com - Anmarie, the sage I quoted above, introduced me to this inspiring blogsite which provides the voice of "CAN DO" to starting a new business. The author writes about entrepreneurialism from the passenger's seat, but she is clearly an entrepreneur herself, has done lots of research and points to articles and resources that promote new business in this day and age. Low capital, low overhead. Add idea and stir.
Made with Love - On Friday, Libby took me to lunch for my birthday. An age-old friend whose husband leads the way in start-up entrepreneurialism, Libby herself embodies the spirit of "we will conquer" and always does this with style and quiet generosity. On her arm were the most unique bracelets made in Senegal out of discarded rubber. Bracelets of brilliant color: turquoise, ruby, malachite. Buying 6 of them pays for childcare in Senegal for a needy child. $20 for 20 bracelets. Order them and other cool gifts at http://madewithloveinbrazil.com/spreadthelovetoafrica.html
What are you looking for? Read the paper and you get all the negative your imagination shouldn't have to take on. Don't stop reading the paper, but make a decision and filter it, for what's positive, funny, good. Did you see that Walmart has paid dividends this month? We're going to be OK. Look for whimsy and chance. It's time to start the march toward possibility, as we define it.
It isn't fair! We are paying for the waste of precious resources all around us. For decisions made by other human beings, by people we pass in the grocery store! We can pin the blame on any number of individuals and groups, but what does that do? John walks along a precipice every day, of blame and anger. I was advised by a friend recently that if we do more than just acknowledge that anger, we will invite it into our lives - Anmarie cautions from experience in the No Job vacuum that it will be an invitation that gives the go-ahead to our worst case scenario.
I'll make you a different invitation. This has been a relatively silent week in our house. Nothing's tangible, but in order to get out of bed in the morning we've redefined opportunity; considering a 15-minute phone conversation not just another dead-end , but an interesting contact, maybe in time, a job lead.
So times are tough - we have to grab the Grace where we can. Here's where I've gotten it this week:
The Bird and the Bee - John, Karen and I went to a $22/ticket show on Tuesday night featuring the unabashedly optimistic Indy/Pop band The Bird and the Bee. Inara George uses clapping, smiling, laughing and amazing lyrics to entertain, she fronts 3 awesome women accompanied by a quiet electronica wizard. The women wore short monochromatic a-line dresses and flats, they all matched, and the show was like being a fly (or a bee, in this case) on the wall of a fabulous girl's night out. Download their first album aptly named "The Bird and the Bee" and their latest, "Ray Guns are not just the Future". For a quick hit of their joie de vivre, watch their recent performance on the Ellen show through their website: http://www.thebirdandthebee.com/
YourStartUpStory.com - Anmarie, the sage I quoted above, introduced me to this inspiring blogsite which provides the voice of "CAN DO" to starting a new business. The author writes about entrepreneurialism from the passenger's seat, but she is clearly an entrepreneur herself, has done lots of research and points to articles and resources that promote new business in this day and age. Low capital, low overhead. Add idea and stir.
Made with Love - On Friday, Libby took me to lunch for my birthday. An age-old friend whose husband leads the way in start-up entrepreneurialism, Libby herself embodies the spirit of "we will conquer" and always does this with style and quiet generosity. On her arm were the most unique bracelets made in Senegal out of discarded rubber. Bracelets of brilliant color: turquoise, ruby, malachite. Buying 6 of them pays for childcare in Senegal for a needy child. $20 for 20 bracelets. Order them and other cool gifts at http://madewithloveinbrazil.com/spreadthelovetoafrica.html
What are you looking for? Read the paper and you get all the negative your imagination shouldn't have to take on. Don't stop reading the paper, but make a decision and filter it, for what's positive, funny, good. Did you see that Walmart has paid dividends this month? We're going to be OK. Look for whimsy and chance. It's time to start the march toward possibility, as we define it.
2.26.2009
STYLE REINVENTED
What I wouldn't have done with all this time on my hands. A clean slate, weekdays look like weekends. John's around to share the household duties. Chief among which, short-order cook. Breakfast and lunch are his domain, and it frees up more mental real estate than I'd ever imagined possible.
Back when the kids were little it was a different kind of vacuum, my hourly fantasies were about ways of escape, so racy. The setting: Coffee shop. Prop: Magazine. I would hurl myself into a car the moment help arrived. Vogue, Vanity Fair, InStyle. Food and Wine. The New Yorker. The stack of periodicals was never outdated. My daily/weekly/monthly objective: feed kids, walk them occasionally, stay abreast of the styles. Know what's happening, where people eat, how they dress, new entertaining themes and, of course, recipes, what causes are sponsored by whom, and most rivetingly (to a former marketing executive), what is the "feeling of living" as communicated in our advertising. It was like a master's degree in popular culture. The thesis: How does style drive our society and how does it speak to what is happening in the world.
On a recent TED talk, Isaac Mizrahi discussed creativity and reinvention, his own based upon the principle that one must simply "stay bored". www.ted.com/index.php/talks/isaac_mizrahi_on_fashion_and_creativity.html Mizrahi, even with his silly, "none of this really matters" sense of irony, stages himself as a guru of reinvention. He's come in and out of the popular world in the way I wish women in the workplace could, he rises out of the categories of his career to again create a new life in a new job, and the world applauds him, "yeah, he's back!", for what he's done both in and out of the public eye.
So, style. Here's the link: Magazines, popular culture, the Oscars, the Stars. Color, pattern, texture, color. Fabric, flow, comfort. Living room, closet, kitchen. In a vacuum, we yearn for connection. We want to feel informed, but self-protected. We're desperate to be in tune with the times, but we're forced into this passive mode, waiting for life as we know it to begin again. In the No Job Vacuum it may be tempting to write off popular culture, we have so many deeper things to worry about. Yet as I see it, the style journals are doing their very best to walk the line between showing what's out there, flesh and blood and beautiful, and the coveted invitation to come back in where it feels good, where we can still enjoy the warmth of living on the surface. "Style" Mizrahi says in the TED talk, "makes you feel great because it takes your mind off the fact that you're going to die!" Ironic in his invocation to keep doing what makes you feel good. It couldn't be more important.
I look left at my stack of periodicals, subscriptions I still hold dear and prioritize even with the shrinking domestic budget. My culture-tracking objective is way less ambitious than it used to be. The stack is disheveled, it reflects my sense of the world. Reading about style is not an escape in this vacuum but it is still a lifeline, it's what helps bring the world together when it all seems in pieces. The function of style is crucial in this age of reinvention.
Back when the kids were little it was a different kind of vacuum, my hourly fantasies were about ways of escape, so racy. The setting: Coffee shop. Prop: Magazine. I would hurl myself into a car the moment help arrived. Vogue, Vanity Fair, InStyle. Food and Wine. The New Yorker. The stack of periodicals was never outdated. My daily/weekly/monthly objective: feed kids, walk them occasionally, stay abreast of the styles. Know what's happening, where people eat, how they dress, new entertaining themes and, of course, recipes, what causes are sponsored by whom, and most rivetingly (to a former marketing executive), what is the "feeling of living" as communicated in our advertising. It was like a master's degree in popular culture. The thesis: How does style drive our society and how does it speak to what is happening in the world.
On a recent TED talk, Isaac Mizrahi discussed creativity and reinvention, his own based upon the principle that one must simply "stay bored". www.ted.com/index.php/talks/isaac_mizrahi_on_fashion_and_creativity.html Mizrahi, even with his silly, "none of this really matters" sense of irony, stages himself as a guru of reinvention. He's come in and out of the popular world in the way I wish women in the workplace could, he rises out of the categories of his career to again create a new life in a new job, and the world applauds him, "yeah, he's back!", for what he's done both in and out of the public eye.
So, style. Here's the link: Magazines, popular culture, the Oscars, the Stars. Color, pattern, texture, color. Fabric, flow, comfort. Living room, closet, kitchen. In a vacuum, we yearn for connection. We want to feel informed, but self-protected. We're desperate to be in tune with the times, but we're forced into this passive mode, waiting for life as we know it to begin again. In the No Job Vacuum it may be tempting to write off popular culture, we have so many deeper things to worry about. Yet as I see it, the style journals are doing their very best to walk the line between showing what's out there, flesh and blood and beautiful, and the coveted invitation to come back in where it feels good, where we can still enjoy the warmth of living on the surface. "Style" Mizrahi says in the TED talk, "makes you feel great because it takes your mind off the fact that you're going to die!" Ironic in his invocation to keep doing what makes you feel good. It couldn't be more important.
I look left at my stack of periodicals, subscriptions I still hold dear and prioritize even with the shrinking domestic budget. My culture-tracking objective is way less ambitious than it used to be. The stack is disheveled, it reflects my sense of the world. Reading about style is not an escape in this vacuum but it is still a lifeline, it's what helps bring the world together when it all seems in pieces. The function of style is crucial in this age of reinvention.
2.19.2009
MY BIRTHDAY CAKE
Pity party. Lately, it's Big Occasion city. February is full of them, and it's my turn to take the advice I've doled out to so many others. The milestones we pass, even if they're passed up, guarantee deeper meaning as we face into them next year.
Tomorrow, it's my birthday. Let me be clear. Birthdays are not just a number for me, they are the annual moment for acknowledgment. They are important. Historically, they've been launched like small businesses, with a plan and a committee (on which I preside). This year, I'm a committee of one, and there will not be much of a firework display. I'd be sad about it if it weren't my decision, but in the middle of the night as I lay awake and worry, this is the clearest, most appropriate gift to myself. No birthday celebration.
We'll light the fire in our beautiful colonial fireplace. Music. The kids, the dogs. The next day, dinner with family. In order for it to feel alright to me I'll preside over the kitchen. Others might rather relinquish, in the name of being pampered. Not me. It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to...
My Birthday Cake:
1/2lb bittersweet baking chocolate
1/2 c unsalted butter (1 stick, cut up)
3 tbsp bourbon (Maker's Mark)
1 orange, zested
4 eggs
2/3 granulated sugar
Couple tbsp shaved chocolate for garnish
Spiced Cream:
3/4 chilled heavy cream
2 tbsp confectioner's sugar
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/8 tsp cardamom
1/8 tsp ground cloves
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter/flour 9" baking pan, line bottom with parchment paper.
Melt chocolate and butter in a microwave, watch carefully, usually takes a couple minutes. Stir it to continue melting and not burn. Mix in bourbon and orange zest; set aside.
Beat eggs and sugar with electric mixer until pale yellow ribbons form, 6 minutes or so. Fold mixture into chocolate a little at a time. Pour into prepared pan. Bake 35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Cool on wire rack.
With clean beaters, beat cold cream until frothy. Add confectioner's sugar and spices. Continue beating until soft peaks form (when peaks are droopy you're good.) Chill in fridge.
Serve cake on a plate covered with dollops of cream and shaved chocolate.
* Inspired by a cake served at the Spotted Pig, 314 W 14th St, New York.
Tomorrow, it's my birthday. Let me be clear. Birthdays are not just a number for me, they are the annual moment for acknowledgment. They are important. Historically, they've been launched like small businesses, with a plan and a committee (on which I preside). This year, I'm a committee of one, and there will not be much of a firework display. I'd be sad about it if it weren't my decision, but in the middle of the night as I lay awake and worry, this is the clearest, most appropriate gift to myself. No birthday celebration.
We'll light the fire in our beautiful colonial fireplace. Music. The kids, the dogs. The next day, dinner with family. In order for it to feel alright to me I'll preside over the kitchen. Others might rather relinquish, in the name of being pampered. Not me. It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to...
My Birthday Cake:
ORANGE & BOURBON CHOCOLATE CAKE
Cake:
1/2lb bittersweet baking chocolate
1/2 c unsalted butter (1 stick, cut up)
3 tbsp bourbon (Maker's Mark)
1 orange, zested
4 eggs
2/3 granulated sugar
Couple tbsp shaved chocolate for garnish
Spiced Cream:
3/4 chilled heavy cream
2 tbsp confectioner's sugar
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/8 tsp cardamom
1/8 tsp ground cloves
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter/flour 9" baking pan, line bottom with parchment paper.
Melt chocolate and butter in a microwave, watch carefully, usually takes a couple minutes. Stir it to continue melting and not burn. Mix in bourbon and orange zest; set aside.
Beat eggs and sugar with electric mixer until pale yellow ribbons form, 6 minutes or so. Fold mixture into chocolate a little at a time. Pour into prepared pan. Bake 35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Cool on wire rack.
With clean beaters, beat cold cream until frothy. Add confectioner's sugar and spices. Continue beating until soft peaks form (when peaks are droopy you're good.) Chill in fridge.
Serve cake on a plate covered with dollops of cream and shaved chocolate.
* Inspired by a cake served at the Spotted Pig, 314 W 14th St, New York.
2.14.2009
HERE'S TO PLAN B
Last weekend, in my expedition into the scary realm of READING THE NEWSPAPER I was met with a shocking, first in a long time experience: Inspiration. I read this article twice, gave it to John to read and sent it to several friends for whom inspiration was a fleeting memory. It's been a week and I can't stop thinking about this piece, I must re-publish it, and hope that it hits the mark with you as it did for me.
"What's Your New Plan B?" (by David Segal, NY Times, 2/7/09) nails the crazy confluence of the scary times with how we simply MUST confront them. If you don't have a job right now, a changed way of thinking has been foisted on you. But no one is out there, unscathed. Folks for whom a job is secure, in an industry not bombarded, in offices they own - they too are changing their behaviors, shedding old habits and thinking in a new way. Let's face it, things are going to be very different from now on. We have a choice: we change behind the times or ahead of them.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/08/weekinreview/08segal.html?_r=2&scp=2&sq=plan%20B&st=cse
Here's what's hard, and believe me, we live it. Plan B for us is the same as Plan A: Get a Job. That's where the last post comes in (the "Sanity Salon"). In order to re-jig our Plan B we have to build channels in our daily lives. Tamra reminded me in an email yesterday to keep going for walks. Think it's that simple? Amazingly, when the bottom feels hard and cold, the walk is our channel, we can talk without looking at each other, we can breathe. Are you laughing? Like, what a pollyanna she is! Let me ask you this: what else do you have to do? Light the fire and make the Earl Grey Latte (Earl Grey tea with steamed or, in a pinch, microwaved Soy Milk, sounds weird but is truly delicious). Pull out the Scrabble and WIN. Then, a few light moments under your belt, go for Plan B.
Segal's article spends alot of upfront time talking about Plan B as a sorry shedding of dreams - the 2-day work week, the chic B+B in St Remy. But read these lines: "The new Plan B relies heavily on improvisation..." Aren't we, in the New Now, already improvising? "And here’s a hopeful question: does the new Plan B have any upsides?" YES! Get in front of the change, get into Plan B!
"What's Your New Plan B?" (by David Segal, NY Times, 2/7/09) nails the crazy confluence of the scary times with how we simply MUST confront them. If you don't have a job right now, a changed way of thinking has been foisted on you. But no one is out there, unscathed. Folks for whom a job is secure, in an industry not bombarded, in offices they own - they too are changing their behaviors, shedding old habits and thinking in a new way. Let's face it, things are going to be very different from now on. We have a choice: we change behind the times or ahead of them.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/08/weekinreview/08segal.html?_r=2&scp=2&sq=plan%20B&st=cse
Here's what's hard, and believe me, we live it. Plan B for us is the same as Plan A: Get a Job. That's where the last post comes in (the "Sanity Salon"). In order to re-jig our Plan B we have to build channels in our daily lives. Tamra reminded me in an email yesterday to keep going for walks. Think it's that simple? Amazingly, when the bottom feels hard and cold, the walk is our channel, we can talk without looking at each other, we can breathe. Are you laughing? Like, what a pollyanna she is! Let me ask you this: what else do you have to do? Light the fire and make the Earl Grey Latte (Earl Grey tea with steamed or, in a pinch, microwaved Soy Milk, sounds weird but is truly delicious). Pull out the Scrabble and WIN. Then, a few light moments under your belt, go for Plan B.
Segal's article spends alot of upfront time talking about Plan B as a sorry shedding of dreams - the 2-day work week, the chic B+B in St Remy. But read these lines: "The new Plan B relies heavily on improvisation..." Aren't we, in the New Now, already improvising? "And here’s a hopeful question: does the new Plan B have any upsides?" YES! Get in front of the change, get into Plan B!
2.09.2009
JOIN THE SANITY SALON
Your recession has hit. Through these posts I've tried to establish, yes, how bad it is and no, you are not alone. But the truth is, 90% of the process feels pretty damn lonely. The phone might ring but never at the moment the din gets loudest in our heads. That's where today's post comes in.
Who's on Facebook? If you are, you too are enjoying the latest, greatest guilty pleasure: "25 Random Things About..." I have not completed a list, but without fail I finish reading yours with the biggest smile on my face. Douglas Quenqua said in his NY Times piece about the "25 Things" phenomenon (2/5/09) that it's anybody's guess why this particular note has caught on and spread so much faster than anything else on Facebook to date. It may be true introspection, an opportunity for verbosity or simply unapologetic narcissism... I have my theory and it fits perfectly with The New Now's reason for being: it is Community. When I read your lists of "25 Random Things" I feel close to you and proud of you, I laugh with you and feel much less isolated thanks to your confessions which are seemingly written just for me to read.
I know not what time of day or what state of mind brings you to this post, but I want to hear from you. So that there is more for us to read and, in the spirit of "25 Random Things", so we can learn about each other while we share what makes it easier to get through each day.
Welcome to...
Scented Candles from GAP (last purchased at $2.99)- Light one next to where you're sitting and take it with you when you pace
"Force It" Walks - Make an "appointment" (e.g. in 15 minutes...) with your Partner and get outside together. Takes the place of a pricier date night and forces conversation, don't know how, but always works.
Set up DVR (or Tivo) and study the day's media. Make a plan for what you get to watch each evening and record others for a later viewing. There is so much good TV out there right now! Some of my favorites:
http://www.chocolateandzucchini.com/
http://www.thedailybeast.com/
http://themoment.blogs.nytimes.com/
http://bookgroupbuzz.booklistonline.com/
http://www.wfuv.org/blog/
Please don't wait, add to The New Now.
Who's on Facebook? If you are, you too are enjoying the latest, greatest guilty pleasure: "25 Random Things About..." I have not completed a list, but without fail I finish reading yours with the biggest smile on my face. Douglas Quenqua said in his NY Times piece about the "25 Things" phenomenon (2/5/09) that it's anybody's guess why this particular note has caught on and spread so much faster than anything else on Facebook to date. It may be true introspection, an opportunity for verbosity or simply unapologetic narcissism... I have my theory and it fits perfectly with The New Now's reason for being: it is Community. When I read your lists of "25 Random Things" I feel close to you and proud of you, I laugh with you and feel much less isolated thanks to your confessions which are seemingly written just for me to read.
I know not what time of day or what state of mind brings you to this post, but I want to hear from you. So that there is more for us to read and, in the spirit of "25 Random Things", so we can learn about each other while we share what makes it easier to get through each day.
Welcome to...
THE SANITY SALON: INEXPENSIVE INDULGENCES TO FILL THE SPACE
Add your tried and true Make It Better's by clicking on the highlighted "Comments" below this post.
Scented Candles from GAP (last purchased at $2.99)- Light one next to where you're sitting and take it with you when you pace
"Force It" Walks - Make an "appointment" (e.g. in 15 minutes...) with your Partner and get outside together. Takes the place of a pricier date night and forces conversation, don't know how, but always works.
Good, dark, grocery store chocolate after dinner, no matter what, a promise to you from the Universe that good things await if you make it through the day
- Charlotte: Ghirardhelli Bliss Intense Mint ($2.99)
- Suzy: Dove Silky Smooth with Roasted Almonds ($3.53)
Set up DVR (or Tivo) and study the day's media. Make a plan for what you get to watch each evening and record others for a later viewing. There is so much good TV out there right now! Some of my favorites:
- Damages (FX)
- Weed (HBO)
- Big Love (HBO)
- Brothers and Sisters (ABC)
- House (Fox)
- Mad Men (AMC)
http://www.chocolateandzucchini.com/
http://www.thedailybeast.com/
http://themoment.blogs.nytimes.com/
http://bookgroupbuzz.booklistonline.com/
http://www.wfuv.org/blog/
Please don't wait, add to The New Now.
2.05.2009
THE CITY
Our phone is ringing! And it's The Network. In these times, the most profound of concepts is the network. And thanks to our network, the phone is ringing.
I've just read "Netherlands" by Joseph O'Neill, which for my money is one of the most finely wrought novels of the year. Not just because it paints a richly layered portrait of the cultures I know and love best - England, Holland and New York. But because the story is told like a matrix. With these incredible yet diverse cities along the bottom axis, and every meaningful character profile along the side. The man, the woman, the family, the enigmatic friend. The portrait is of how each interacts and gets tangled up in their network, these cities, and how they survive.
Without the entanglements with people, we have no way out of the mire.
In the beginning, I arranged every minute into a social event putting John on stage. I invited, opened up, cooked for, laundered for, phoned, suggested, enticed and manipulated. I dumped my results on a desk and expected the opportunities to rise like gumbies and dance around John with exciting opportunities, offers of a hand, the answer. I did that for about a month. Until I crumbled in an exhausted heap for the weight of delivery. The truth is, this is not my search, it is not my job. And the more I work to deliver the gumbies I'm taking away from doing my own job, from raising my children, from caring for John and definitely from caring for myself.
The City, the notion of the City, was built on this concept of network. Cities were not haphazard, nor were they Utopian - they were architected out of "the belief in the real possibility of creating worlds of peace, order, beauty and well being. (That) people can, at times, all get along and build something bigger than themselves."
I'm quoting from a New York Times review of an exhibit in Washington DC's National Gallery of Art (1/30/09) called "Pride of Place: Dutch Cityscapes of the Golden Age". Washington couldn't seem farther away right now as our travel budget has been slashed to local driving and at-home entertainment, but if I could, I'd airlift to see this installation. Not only is it Holland, not only have I just read this amazing novel, but it is an examination in art and cartography of the City, as a living organism, a thought-out way of shoring up and ensuring the network. And it's not "the village" (as much as I respond to Hillary Clinton's expose' about what it takes), it's THE CITY. It's infinite in its possibility, and in the end, it'll be the City that provides the opportunity for all of us, to grow, and not to die trying.
Some resources for networking: http://www.womenatwork.com/, http://www.momcorps.com/
I've just read "Netherlands" by Joseph O'Neill, which for my money is one of the most finely wrought novels of the year. Not just because it paints a richly layered portrait of the cultures I know and love best - England, Holland and New York. But because the story is told like a matrix. With these incredible yet diverse cities along the bottom axis, and every meaningful character profile along the side. The man, the woman, the family, the enigmatic friend. The portrait is of how each interacts and gets tangled up in their network, these cities, and how they survive.
Without the entanglements with people, we have no way out of the mire.
In the beginning, I arranged every minute into a social event putting John on stage. I invited, opened up, cooked for, laundered for, phoned, suggested, enticed and manipulated. I dumped my results on a desk and expected the opportunities to rise like gumbies and dance around John with exciting opportunities, offers of a hand, the answer. I did that for about a month. Until I crumbled in an exhausted heap for the weight of delivery. The truth is, this is not my search, it is not my job. And the more I work to deliver the gumbies I'm taking away from doing my own job, from raising my children, from caring for John and definitely from caring for myself.
The City, the notion of the City, was built on this concept of network. Cities were not haphazard, nor were they Utopian - they were architected out of "the belief in the real possibility of creating worlds of peace, order, beauty and well being. (That) people can, at times, all get along and build something bigger than themselves."
I'm quoting from a New York Times review of an exhibit in Washington DC's National Gallery of Art (1/30/09) called "Pride of Place: Dutch Cityscapes of the Golden Age". Washington couldn't seem farther away right now as our travel budget has been slashed to local driving and at-home entertainment, but if I could, I'd airlift to see this installation. Not only is it Holland, not only have I just read this amazing novel, but it is an examination in art and cartography of the City, as a living organism, a thought-out way of shoring up and ensuring the network. And it's not "the village" (as much as I respond to Hillary Clinton's expose' about what it takes), it's THE CITY. It's infinite in its possibility, and in the end, it'll be the City that provides the opportunity for all of us, to grow, and not to die trying.
Some resources for networking: http://www.womenatwork.com/, http://www.momcorps.com/
1.29.2009
MAN UP OR GO HOME
Serena reigned supreme the other night in the quarter-finals of the Australia Open. She almost lost it in that heat. Kuznetsova called a foul saying that when the Aussies stopped play for 30 minutes to close the roof, it gave Serena time to get her game back. Kuznetsova's right. Serena got into her own head and told herself she had to "Man Up or Go Home".
Suzanne reflected with me yesterday that she and Bob recently asked themselves how much their experience last year in the No Job Vacuum had aged them. I wanted to know how they answered that - she's not even sure the extent. The point is, when I was waiting for the computer to boot up a few minutes ago I got a glance at myself in the dark monitor and was met by a hagard-looking me. In this, the New Now.
"Manning Up" makes for hagard faces. Whether it's what you picture when you're struggling to put one foot in front of the other while forgetting to breathe (cheeks blown out, eyes popping), or when your head's locked in a rugby-player grip (squashed, wrinkled). Or, most disturbingly, if it's your expression at rest (tight, unsmiling, dehydrated). How much elasticity will we get back when all this is over? How old will we look - and feel - when the match is played?
I often read "More" Magazine, a newish monthly which "celebrates women over 40". The models are beautiful and over 40. The clothes are refined (though this month's issue promotes some pretty garish-looking recession ensembles), the humor is accessible, the spirituality pieces are about things like reinvention and leadership. I am encouraged that "More" brings women forward who are reinvented and honest, who embrace their faces and can say they are, honestly, happy. Mind you - I'd be happy too if I were Emma Thompson. She has a craft which she's turned into a business which is renewable and timeless and makes her money. But I appreciate that "More" says a little Botox is OK, and also says that being a strong woman is, indeed, about embracing the characteristics tagged as "Man-ly". Like - being bullheaded enough to wake up every day to be industrious; not caring all that much about how we look or how we're aging (let's face it, I've seen you too in your workout clothes at 4:00 in the afternoon); playing hard and not being forgiving while we play; not suffering fools and knowing when we have to push re-set on how we're spending our time; being Serena Williams, and Hillary Clinton. When I look in the dark monitor before I start writing, it's all of those adjectives I see, in me. I'm manning up.
This afternoon I'm going to rent "Sex and the City: The Movie". On demand.
Suzanne reflected with me yesterday that she and Bob recently asked themselves how much their experience last year in the No Job Vacuum had aged them. I wanted to know how they answered that - she's not even sure the extent. The point is, when I was waiting for the computer to boot up a few minutes ago I got a glance at myself in the dark monitor and was met by a hagard-looking me. In this, the New Now.
"Manning Up" makes for hagard faces. Whether it's what you picture when you're struggling to put one foot in front of the other while forgetting to breathe (cheeks blown out, eyes popping), or when your head's locked in a rugby-player grip (squashed, wrinkled). Or, most disturbingly, if it's your expression at rest (tight, unsmiling, dehydrated). How much elasticity will we get back when all this is over? How old will we look - and feel - when the match is played?
I often read "More" Magazine, a newish monthly which "celebrates women over 40". The models are beautiful and over 40. The clothes are refined (though this month's issue promotes some pretty garish-looking recession ensembles), the humor is accessible, the spirituality pieces are about things like reinvention and leadership. I am encouraged that "More" brings women forward who are reinvented and honest, who embrace their faces and can say they are, honestly, happy. Mind you - I'd be happy too if I were Emma Thompson. She has a craft which she's turned into a business which is renewable and timeless and makes her money. But I appreciate that "More" says a little Botox is OK, and also says that being a strong woman is, indeed, about embracing the characteristics tagged as "Man-ly". Like - being bullheaded enough to wake up every day to be industrious; not caring all that much about how we look or how we're aging (let's face it, I've seen you too in your workout clothes at 4:00 in the afternoon); playing hard and not being forgiving while we play; not suffering fools and knowing when we have to push re-set on how we're spending our time; being Serena Williams, and Hillary Clinton. When I look in the dark monitor before I start writing, it's all of those adjectives I see, in me. I'm manning up.
This afternoon I'm going to rent "Sex and the City: The Movie". On demand.
1.24.2009
ROASTED VEGETABLES WITH SHRIMP
You'll be amazed how these two factions of food come together in one roasting pan.
What you need: a bag of frozen shrimp (use what you want and keep the rest in the freezer for an alternate version of Cassie's Favorite Ceasar, see previous post); Olive oil; 2 heads of fresh broccoli OR cauliflower, OR 4-5 sweet potatoes, a few peppers- choose any of the above, I like broccoli the best; whole coriander seeds and whole cumin seeds; hot chili powder or cayenne pepper; a lemon for zesting.
To go with it: Spinach, rice, tofu, prepared as you like. Bread too if you want it.
What you do: Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Toss your vegetable with 2 tbsp olive oil, 1 tsp each cumin and coriander seeds, 1 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp pepper, chili powder or cayenne pepper to taste (but be sparing - 1/8 tsp is what I use). Spread in baking dish and roast for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, combine defrosted and shelled shrimp with remaining 2 tbsp oil, the zest of the lemon, 1/2 tsp each salt and pepper.
After 10 minutes, shrimp mixture joins vegetables in the roasting pan, continue to roast about 10 minutes more. Toss a couple of times. Vegetables should be tender but starting to crisp on edges, shrimp are opaque. Squeeze juice of that lemon on top and serve.
* Inspired by a recent Melissa Clark recipe in the New York Times.
What you need: a bag of frozen shrimp (use what you want and keep the rest in the freezer for an alternate version of Cassie's Favorite Ceasar, see previous post); Olive oil; 2 heads of fresh broccoli OR cauliflower, OR 4-5 sweet potatoes, a few peppers- choose any of the above, I like broccoli the best; whole coriander seeds and whole cumin seeds; hot chili powder or cayenne pepper; a lemon for zesting.
To go with it: Spinach, rice, tofu, prepared as you like. Bread too if you want it.
What you do: Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Toss your vegetable with 2 tbsp olive oil, 1 tsp each cumin and coriander seeds, 1 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp pepper, chili powder or cayenne pepper to taste (but be sparing - 1/8 tsp is what I use). Spread in baking dish and roast for 10 minutes.
Meanwhile, combine defrosted and shelled shrimp with remaining 2 tbsp oil, the zest of the lemon, 1/2 tsp each salt and pepper.
After 10 minutes, shrimp mixture joins vegetables in the roasting pan, continue to roast about 10 minutes more. Toss a couple of times. Vegetables should be tender but starting to crisp on edges, shrimp are opaque. Squeeze juice of that lemon on top and serve.
* Inspired by a recent Melissa Clark recipe in the New York Times.
12.25.2008
THE SPACES BETWEEN
You'll find what brings you that moment of relief in the darkest, smallest of corners. A dear friend and one of the most insightful people I know, a Presbyterian Minister, wrote something and sent it to me during the blur I'll call The Holidays. It was the context of her sermon (December 22, 2008, Chestnut Hill Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia). A poem written by Joseph Enzweiller called Christmas 1963:
Because we wanted much that year
and had little. Because the winter phone
for days stayed silent that would call
our father back to work, and he
kept silent too with our mother,
fearfully proud before us.
Because I was young that morning
in gray light untouched on the rug
and our gifts were so few, propped
along the furniture, for a second
my heart fell, then saw how large
they made the spaces between them
to take the place of less. Because
the curtained sun rose brightly
on our discarded paper and the things
themselves, these forty years,
have grown too small to see, the emptiness
measured out remains the gift,
fills the whole room now, that whole year
out across the snowy lawn. Because
a drop of shame burned quietly
in the province of love. Because
we had little that year
and were given much.
The durge of January has taken us on. The winter winds are swirling into the niches of our house, niches we haven't yet been given the go-ahead to find. When reading Enzweiler's poem, I wonder what will fill our spaces, this winter quiet.
The exercise, do you do this? Do you wake from a night's sleep and take a sip of water, then make your mental or even written note of what you're most thankful for? I know for certain that you can count on 2 hands the people who, in consolation, urge you forth to reflect on the myriad blessings that bestow your shimmery existence, despite what woe betides you. Your health, your fine children, the food in your pantry...
Oh, I've tried the exercise, you have as well. But as "Insiders" we know that before that second blessing crosses our consciousness, the tides of the everyday surge past it and we're left where we started when eyes flickered open - with the dread and consignment, here we are now, with acres of space between. Blessings?
So I'll do this for you (if you promise you'll do it for the next person). I'll offer you a blessing, and it's happening this weekend. Bruce Springsteen and James Taylor are going to strike up the band. The Rev Gene Robinson will say a prayer to keep us clear that none of us, not one, is perfect. We'll all be there, present, shoulder to shoulder heads held up to the wind.
We will unite for this, for there is not one person alive, pro or con, who does not seek balance and closeness and healing for our Country. Our greatest blessing is that January 20th, the Inauguration of Barack Obama will take place. We still do not know what it's all going to look like, but this is the "winter phone" and it's ringing. Closing the spaces between.
Read this, it's all you need to know to show up: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/12/obama-inauguration-lincoln_157215.html
Because we wanted much that year
and had little. Because the winter phone
for days stayed silent that would call
our father back to work, and he
kept silent too with our mother,
fearfully proud before us.
Because I was young that morning
in gray light untouched on the rug
and our gifts were so few, propped
along the furniture, for a second
my heart fell, then saw how large
they made the spaces between them
to take the place of less. Because
the curtained sun rose brightly
on our discarded paper and the things
themselves, these forty years,
have grown too small to see, the emptiness
measured out remains the gift,
fills the whole room now, that whole year
out across the snowy lawn. Because
a drop of shame burned quietly
in the province of love. Because
we had little that year
and were given much.
The durge of January has taken us on. The winter winds are swirling into the niches of our house, niches we haven't yet been given the go-ahead to find. When reading Enzweiler's poem, I wonder what will fill our spaces, this winter quiet.
The exercise, do you do this? Do you wake from a night's sleep and take a sip of water, then make your mental or even written note of what you're most thankful for? I know for certain that you can count on 2 hands the people who, in consolation, urge you forth to reflect on the myriad blessings that bestow your shimmery existence, despite what woe betides you. Your health, your fine children, the food in your pantry...
Oh, I've tried the exercise, you have as well. But as "Insiders" we know that before that second blessing crosses our consciousness, the tides of the everyday surge past it and we're left where we started when eyes flickered open - with the dread and consignment, here we are now, with acres of space between. Blessings?
So I'll do this for you (if you promise you'll do it for the next person). I'll offer you a blessing, and it's happening this weekend. Bruce Springsteen and James Taylor are going to strike up the band. The Rev Gene Robinson will say a prayer to keep us clear that none of us, not one, is perfect. We'll all be there, present, shoulder to shoulder heads held up to the wind.
We will unite for this, for there is not one person alive, pro or con, who does not seek balance and closeness and healing for our Country. Our greatest blessing is that January 20th, the Inauguration of Barack Obama will take place. We still do not know what it's all going to look like, but this is the "winter phone" and it's ringing. Closing the spaces between.
Read this, it's all you need to know to show up: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/12/obama-inauguration-lincoln_157215.html
12.20.2008
CASSIE'S FAVORITE CAESAR SALAD
An easy, delicious, healthy dinner idea. Don't think about it, just make it.
What you need: a Rotisserie Chicken, an avocado, a bag of romaine lettuce hearts, parmesan cheese (shavings), an egg, worcestershire sauce, a lemon, olive oil, bar of dark chocolate
What to do: In a bowl or an empty glass jar, shake up the egg’s yolk (please don’t worry about using the yolk, but if you feel better you can boil it for 3 minutes), the juice of the lemon, a few drops of worcestershire, 3-4 tbsp olive oil and salt and pepper as you like it.
Chop the lettuce, mix it with picked-apart chicken, avocado pieces and parmesan shavings. Make lots. It’s good, good for you and very satisfying. Follow with a bar of dark chocolate. Today I recommend Trader Joe’s.
* Inspired by the inimitable and fabulous Nigella Lawson.
What you need: a Rotisserie Chicken, an avocado, a bag of romaine lettuce hearts, parmesan cheese (shavings), an egg, worcestershire sauce, a lemon, olive oil, bar of dark chocolate
What to do: In a bowl or an empty glass jar, shake up the egg’s yolk (please don’t worry about using the yolk, but if you feel better you can boil it for 3 minutes), the juice of the lemon, a few drops of worcestershire, 3-4 tbsp olive oil and salt and pepper as you like it.
Chop the lettuce, mix it with picked-apart chicken, avocado pieces and parmesan shavings. Make lots. It’s good, good for you and very satisfying. Follow with a bar of dark chocolate. Today I recommend Trader Joe’s.
* Inspired by the inimitable and fabulous Nigella Lawson.
12.19.2008
THE END OF THE LINE FOR SUV'S
Front page of the New York Times today, the leading photo was of a bundled up worker waving an American flag at what is presumably the last of a line of SUVs parading out from a closing plant in Wisconsin. The city-sized plant facility off in the background, the image illicits remorse and pity, a little bit of grief even, as the black, 17 ft long Chevy Tahoe mumurs by under the windy banner, the stars and stripes.
Plant closes, people lose their jobs, town loses its identity, its motor. It is tragic, sad, life will not be the same for thousands of people in these kinds of towns. But SUVs, they’re a ranch on wheels, have surely seen their day. 1999: John wanted one, so badly. Two kids, two dogs, more kids predicted - more, more, more. I always scoffed, the shape those cars take on the road to me is just gross, over-consumptive, everything non-European about us reflected in a car. So American. Now, with our new awareness of gas and its tolls, that grossness takes the shape of needless expense even to those who a little bit shamefully still drive them; the car in the category of fleets of roaring snowmobiles and plates so full of food they edge the salt, pepper and white vase of carnations off the table.
Explain my definition of ”gross” to the people who live in Janesville Wisconsin and I’ll wager they’d throw back a few more examples to make me avert my eyes, here in my suburban east coast kitchen. I love a Prius, they laugh at Priuses, no traction in the snow, nowhere to put the garbage barrel when you have to get to the dump. I was in line for a souped-up Highlander hybrid before John lost his job. Now, $600 a month for a car? We put snowtires on my 2000 station wagon for $542 and agree that it navigates the weather just fine. Our economic decisions not only don’t help the environment, they don’t help the folks out in Motor City either. But we’re taking steps that bring us closer to the other. Snow tires resonate for all of us, neither a Prius nor a bevy of snowmobiles ever will.
It’s almost the end of the year and my strange American survival mechanism, the one led by Hope, says that it’ll all be different once we have a 9 at the end of our xx/xx/xxxx. Obama and his dream team are on the way, and just the Hope factor will change everything for the better. I pray it will.
But - What what about me and my dream of a hybrid? What will become of the snowmobile driver in Janesville? What’s in store for that town, that vast and eery facility once vibrating with vast and eery motor cars? We will continue speaking a different language. We want sophisticated, high level answers to this global problem, I’m picturing a Janesvillean will want answers that put parts and pieces back in their hands. How will we take care of eachother, who will get the attention, who will get the jobs? When?
Plant closes, people lose their jobs, town loses its identity, its motor. It is tragic, sad, life will not be the same for thousands of people in these kinds of towns. But SUVs, they’re a ranch on wheels, have surely seen their day. 1999: John wanted one, so badly. Two kids, two dogs, more kids predicted - more, more, more. I always scoffed, the shape those cars take on the road to me is just gross, over-consumptive, everything non-European about us reflected in a car. So American. Now, with our new awareness of gas and its tolls, that grossness takes the shape of needless expense even to those who a little bit shamefully still drive them; the car in the category of fleets of roaring snowmobiles and plates so full of food they edge the salt, pepper and white vase of carnations off the table.
Explain my definition of ”gross” to the people who live in Janesville Wisconsin and I’ll wager they’d throw back a few more examples to make me avert my eyes, here in my suburban east coast kitchen. I love a Prius, they laugh at Priuses, no traction in the snow, nowhere to put the garbage barrel when you have to get to the dump. I was in line for a souped-up Highlander hybrid before John lost his job. Now, $600 a month for a car? We put snowtires on my 2000 station wagon for $542 and agree that it navigates the weather just fine. Our economic decisions not only don’t help the environment, they don’t help the folks out in Motor City either. But we’re taking steps that bring us closer to the other. Snow tires resonate for all of us, neither a Prius nor a bevy of snowmobiles ever will.
It’s almost the end of the year and my strange American survival mechanism, the one led by Hope, says that it’ll all be different once we have a 9 at the end of our xx/xx/xxxx. Obama and his dream team are on the way, and just the Hope factor will change everything for the better. I pray it will.
But - What what about me and my dream of a hybrid? What will become of the snowmobile driver in Janesville? What’s in store for that town, that vast and eery facility once vibrating with vast and eery motor cars? We will continue speaking a different language. We want sophisticated, high level answers to this global problem, I’m picturing a Janesvillean will want answers that put parts and pieces back in their hands. How will we take care of eachother, who will get the attention, who will get the jobs? When?
12.15.2008
MONDAY MORNING
Monday morning is a bear. Always. No matter whether you work or don’t work. Monday morning exists to remind you of exactly who you are today, and you can’t run from it.
Our Monday morning was Charlie, long off his birthday weekend and feeling the worse for wear, giving us hell for breathing. Today’s Monday was realizing that a dear friend and sister of sorts is making a huge life change, leaving our life together in Amsterdam to revisit her own life in the Phillippines. When I remembered that this was her week to go I cried with all the pent up memories of when we lived together and co-loved my children during our 5 years in Amsterdam. After the tearfest I heard a bang and the Christmas tree fell flat on its ornamented face - water, glass, soggy presents everywhere.
I did my usual “JOOOOOOHN” and what do you know, he came down the stairs. He’s home to help me deal with domestic mishaps. Moodily and distractedly we mopped up and I muttered how it’s “our bad luck". John stepped on the jagged glittery point of a hanging star. He refused the Neosporin, then left the house.
Today I’m seeing signs. The tree fell - just a symbol of our bleak and jobless status on Christmas. When OH YEAH the phone rings and it’s the Vet confirming Leo the Lion’s 2nd puppy appointment, not a recruiter or an interested employer looking for exactly what John can do. A desolate sign that the human providers in the household are not on the radar screen of anyone, Leo the Lion is the one getting the phone calls.
My friend Suzanne said to me this morning that when she and Bob were navigating these same waters last year she played the role of Desperation Monitor - vetting each interaction (call, email, interview) with the question: “Are you feeling desperate?” Like when we were single, she recalled, when we really wanted a boyfriend, men would run the other way sensing the desperation a mile away.
Can you enjoy it right now? Can there be any down time? Can you find the joy, the silly moment? If not, can you sit and be quiet? Can you light a fire or make a collage or show your Partner or your children something pretty? Thinking we see the signs is pure and simple BUNK. There are no signs. It’s life as usual. We’re just not people as usual. The more sense we can talk to ourselves, the faster a surprise will come.
Our Monday morning was Charlie, long off his birthday weekend and feeling the worse for wear, giving us hell for breathing. Today’s Monday was realizing that a dear friend and sister of sorts is making a huge life change, leaving our life together in Amsterdam to revisit her own life in the Phillippines. When I remembered that this was her week to go I cried with all the pent up memories of when we lived together and co-loved my children during our 5 years in Amsterdam. After the tearfest I heard a bang and the Christmas tree fell flat on its ornamented face - water, glass, soggy presents everywhere.
I did my usual “JOOOOOOHN” and what do you know, he came down the stairs. He’s home to help me deal with domestic mishaps. Moodily and distractedly we mopped up and I muttered how it’s “our bad luck". John stepped on the jagged glittery point of a hanging star. He refused the Neosporin, then left the house.
Today I’m seeing signs. The tree fell - just a symbol of our bleak and jobless status on Christmas. When OH YEAH the phone rings and it’s the Vet confirming Leo the Lion’s 2nd puppy appointment, not a recruiter or an interested employer looking for exactly what John can do. A desolate sign that the human providers in the household are not on the radar screen of anyone, Leo the Lion is the one getting the phone calls.
My friend Suzanne said to me this morning that when she and Bob were navigating these same waters last year she played the role of Desperation Monitor - vetting each interaction (call, email, interview) with the question: “Are you feeling desperate?” Like when we were single, she recalled, when we really wanted a boyfriend, men would run the other way sensing the desperation a mile away.
Can you enjoy it right now? Can there be any down time? Can you find the joy, the silly moment? If not, can you sit and be quiet? Can you light a fire or make a collage or show your Partner or your children something pretty? Thinking we see the signs is pure and simple BUNK. There are no signs. It’s life as usual. We’re just not people as usual. The more sense we can talk to ourselves, the faster a surprise will come.
12.12.2008
MY CHILD'S BIRTHDAY
It’s been 3 weeks since John came home with no job. We’ve spent 3 weeks ringing every number and knocking on every door. We’ve bypassed the step containing shame and humiliation in favor of getting there before anyone else does. Our top priority, our daily agenda, our meaning of life is to make contact with people who have a job.
Tomorrow is our son’s 10th birthday. Read this post as permission to be a terrible parent while you go after those contacts. It is not Charlie’s fault that his birthday happens now, but oh how easy it is to wish he’d been born in June like the other two! Here’s how we’ve managed to pull off a birthday from the vacuum’s abyss.
Pre-layoff, we’d planned a night in New York City, climbing the wall at Chelsea Piers, renting a limo to take us to dinner at Jekyll & Hyde, 6 kids and the 5 of us. Post-layoff? Not going to happen. John absorbed the disappointment as totally personal (this will be a running theme) - we ran a close risk of allowing Charlie to blame it all on himself. As with many moments needing clarity since this all went down, I took John out for a hike in the woods near our house and I jumped in and brainstormed a bunch of cheaper alternatives. these included the ones Charlie wouldn’t go for - bowling, movies, ice skating…
What flew? We borrowed an air hockey table and are hosting the Charlie Hockey Tournament, complete with prizes (glow-in-the-dark footballs), pizza and SODA! We’ve got “Miracle” and “Mystery Alaska” to watch on TV. NHL ‘09 on the Playstation 3. The key selling point? Mom and the sisters have to clear out for the night. Works for me!
Here’s the thing - under any other circumstance we wouldn’t have hesitated to say “No Stretch Limo - you’re TEN!” But now, when John + I are dealing with our own sense of loss and lack of resource, saying NO feels like another nail in the coffin.
Friends, we cannot forget who we are in this process. Nor can we blame others for where we find ourselves. Especially not the kids, the ones in the passenger seat. My theory for tonight is this: in a pinch, serve ‘em soda!
Tomorrow is our son’s 10th birthday. Read this post as permission to be a terrible parent while you go after those contacts. It is not Charlie’s fault that his birthday happens now, but oh how easy it is to wish he’d been born in June like the other two! Here’s how we’ve managed to pull off a birthday from the vacuum’s abyss.
Pre-layoff, we’d planned a night in New York City, climbing the wall at Chelsea Piers, renting a limo to take us to dinner at Jekyll & Hyde, 6 kids and the 5 of us. Post-layoff? Not going to happen. John absorbed the disappointment as totally personal (this will be a running theme) - we ran a close risk of allowing Charlie to blame it all on himself. As with many moments needing clarity since this all went down, I took John out for a hike in the woods near our house and I jumped in and brainstormed a bunch of cheaper alternatives. these included the ones Charlie wouldn’t go for - bowling, movies, ice skating…
What flew? We borrowed an air hockey table and are hosting the Charlie Hockey Tournament, complete with prizes (glow-in-the-dark footballs), pizza and SODA! We’ve got “Miracle” and “Mystery Alaska” to watch on TV. NHL ‘09 on the Playstation 3. The key selling point? Mom and the sisters have to clear out for the night. Works for me!
Here’s the thing - under any other circumstance we wouldn’t have hesitated to say “No Stretch Limo - you’re TEN!” But now, when John + I are dealing with our own sense of loss and lack of resource, saying NO feels like another nail in the coffin.
Friends, we cannot forget who we are in this process. Nor can we blame others for where we find ourselves. Especially not the kids, the ones in the passenger seat. My theory for tonight is this: in a pinch, serve ‘em soda!
12.01.2008
TALKING TO YOU FROM THE NO JOB VACUUM
Here we are. No matter how it happens, when you or your Partner loses a job, the ground disappears from underneath and the one and only thing you know for certain is this: YOU ARE STILL BREATHING.
This blog is a call-out to help come to terms with it. It’ll be one step at a time, and we’ll go all over the process map to cope through it all.
Look for music and food (even though I know songs sound dissonant and food tastes horrible); look for parenting and family coping skills (raise your hand if you’re feeling like the grim reaper in work-out clothes); listen for a little humor in the darkest of moments.
I’m doing this because I’m here with you. I think we can find hope and community in these tough times. During the long nights right after John lost his awesome job I’d lie awake and talk to myself, I’d plead with whoever helps us through endless nights to “meet me where I am”.
Through it all came the idea of this blog. I’m meeting you where you are. You’re not alone, so GO, tell your friends!
Charlotte
This blog is a call-out to help come to terms with it. It’ll be one step at a time, and we’ll go all over the process map to cope through it all.
Look for music and food (even though I know songs sound dissonant and food tastes horrible); look for parenting and family coping skills (raise your hand if you’re feeling like the grim reaper in work-out clothes); listen for a little humor in the darkest of moments.
I’m doing this because I’m here with you. I think we can find hope and community in these tough times. During the long nights right after John lost his awesome job I’d lie awake and talk to myself, I’d plead with whoever helps us through endless nights to “meet me where I am”.
Through it all came the idea of this blog. I’m meeting you where you are. You’re not alone, so GO, tell your friends!
Charlotte
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)