While so many of us are playing the waiting game, walking the thin line between hanging on tight and exploring that worst case scenario, others are business as usual, making the trade, bringing home the bacon. And closer to home, even as our phone sits silent, some among us are even bagging the job and settling in to a new chapter in perhaps a new place, with - finally - a sense of direction.
It's a life lesson. The hard conversations we have with our children when they whine: "but JIMMY has the hyper-multi-band-egon-thruster cell phone..." What do you say? "Is your name JIMMY????"
But it's a lesson we thought we learned ourselves, a long time ago. How funny that here we are, still wrestling with the very same (I guess, as it turns out, human) instinct. Why do good things happen to everyone but me?
I remember walking up 7th Avenue with an old friend who couldn't find a man. I remember saying to her (smugly, I fear) that finding Mr Right is one part luck and the rest a matter of being open and having learned just the right amount about yourself to be ready to share, bla bla blah. Later on, there were many an evening at our house or someone else's, talking over the hard times befalling a distant acquaintance, saying what so many have now said to us: "We all have to deal with it, no one's exempt, it's just a matter of time". Glancing side to side, we'd each retreat to our dark internal closets to count our blessings, noting with a hint of guilt that we were dodging a bullet.
We do all have to deal with it. No one is exempt. Bad things happen to good people. Successful people fail. The book by the same perfect title, "When Smart People Fail" by Linda Gottlieb and Carole Hyatt outlines the process and the road to recovery in brutal detail, delivering the reader, redemptively to the inevitable and only path forward: With our wits about us, be hopeful.
And successful people become more successful in the process. "Failure can teach you compassion and humility. It offers you a new sense of power and a different way to connect with the universe – if you let it", Laurie Pawlik-Kienlen writes in her article "The Positive Power of Failure". She quotes Linda Gottlieb in her article: "Failure is a cleaning of the house. It's an opportunity to reorient your career, to inspect it, to relabel it. You learn to keep all your options in play, be light on your feet. Surviving failure makes you bold… Failure liberates you and gives you the courage to risk in a big enough way to guarantee big success."
But we must see failure for what it is, and be open to its power. We have to practice to really receive its gift.
Perhaps the most profound aspect of the New Now is how we come together, how loose acquaintances, friends of friends, willing enablers, come together to form networks for success. In this way, I've communicated regularly with Nadia, a friend and running partner from our days in Amsterdam, about our fears and our hopes in this dark place. We've traded contacts and connections, and gotten our husbands in touch to build a support network of their own. A few weeks ago, I heard from Nadia that they had landed a great job, had even had the good fortune of choice. After 8 months in the New Now they're moving on. Despite my envy, my intense desire to be where Nadia is, her "head spinning with the details", I am deeply relieved for her, and for us, that there is a light, it does end, here is living proof.
Read Nadia's elation in this paragraph. As the network finds roots, so will we.
Charlotte, after reading your email, both Lorne and I want you and John to know that we are incredibly supportive and understand your situation very well. It is a very difficult time to find a job but John has fantastic credentials, experience and personality and will find a great job!!! Just be patient and keep positive. There is a really low point that comes at 6 months but you have to push it into the far away corner and keep going!!! Because something good will happen. What worked for us was throwing a party in our kitchen every Friday. People would bring food and wine and we laughed and cried and danced and it was great or a real great distraction! I know it sounds wacky but we will have wonderful memories. Lorne had many low points, in the last 6 months he interviewed with 9 companies and some interviews consisted 5-6 interviews per one job, including all the telephone and in-person interviews. The two offers actually came from the places he started talking to in February and March and this is how long it took but as you said, it can also take just one phone call...
6.24.2009
6.12.2009
THE KARMA EFFECT
As the going gets tougher and the time passes, we are increasingly aware of the workings of the network; the way that some contacts surpass the call of duty while others simply don't come through. Over a sandwich just today, John and I went through our roll call of who's been in touch, who's had good ideas, and with whom we have the most active quid pro quo - "you help me, I'll help you".The New York Times Career Couch column (6/6/09) called "Helping the Job Seeker without Hurting Yourself" was a direct message to me about the other end of the phone. It is easy to get lost in where we are, our process, the full-time occupation which is getting a job. All the emails, the phone calls, the invitations we send out to our network is a relentless act of true determination. Yet the phone, which rings so discriminatingly in our house these days, is in the hands of someone with her own set of concerns.
Check it out: the Career Couch leads with a drawing of Corporate Joe at his desk, surrounded by water, shark fins and floundering, waving arms. Harsh reality: that's us, the ones drowning, sinking at Joe's feet. Desperation. Ugly as the drawing depicts us, the truth is this: Corporate Joe is likely as desperate as we are. S/he's the one who's still at the desk with more work, fewer colleagues, and often, lower pay. The New Now isn't just jobs taken away; it's what's left, the culture of fear. I remember consoling words from a friend last winter: "John lost his job? Well, if he's this far along and hasn't experienced this event, it's only a matter of time." Only a matter of time.
When life hits the skids like this, it's good to have friends. But what can we expect from them? It's not a fun Catch 22 to be a friend in the New Now. Career Couch says it right: "Those who are looking for work rely heavily on their networks for leads, and often believe that because you have a job, you must know of other jobs." We're at a life-changing moment. Once you've been here, I swear you'll think differently, even if you land in exactly the work scenario you left. Career Couch gives rather heartless advice to Corporate Joe, not to wear himself out counseling and coaching; not to give away too much "political capital"-- Hold it back, Joe, you never know when you'll need that nugget of a lead you're holding on to, wait for the prime candidate -- and even so, in an ever so capitalist way after all the caution, Couch says "it’s a good policy to help if you can, because you never know when the tables will turn." Still heartless, but... Karma.
Why do folks help each other, why is one contact so much richer than another? Is it really that we don't realise the power of the network? A dear friend, one of the most productive women I know, finds herself at a complete loss when friends find themselves without their employment identity. Why is it so hard to know how/when/if you should help?
If I can be a zealot about anything, it is this. We are only as good as the sum of our parts. Wrack your brain, people, what would you like to hear? How would you want to be helped? When you're in the New Now, you know for certain that it will take a many-minded-mission to regain solid ground. Indeed, it is my firm belief that the entire economy will take this kind of mission, every one of us needs to put our new headsets on and think - create - change - support - enable, in order to bring us to rights. The New York Times Career Couch may speak to you if you're Corporate Joe, but from this perspective I remind you of the mantra your Company X will never repeat - Karma... Karma... Karma.... Practice Karma.
6.08.2009
BLOW IT OFF
Last week, from hitting the deer to listing the house on the floundering real estate market, was a desert. The spectrum of emotion ran from Sadness (the high) to Breakdown in the Fast Lane (low). I think all of us operate somewhere mid-range no matter what our range is. Thinking back, I wonder if I even had a pulse last week. My boy asked me at one point: "Where's the Joy, Mom?"Friday came (amazingly), and I couldn't take the pain anymore. I made a desert decision to Offer it Up. It was so totally not selfless, new age or zen. It was a function of not being able to live the sadness any more.
We go through denial in this process, we go through anger. The sadness is a drag, and in this everlastingly dreary job market, the sadness, or "lack of hope" phase feels like it will live on forever.
BUT... we all have our digits, we have our sense and our intellect. We can brew a cup of coffee, we can scoop a bowl of ice cream. We have friends around who offer respite. Guess what people, everyone will tell you that "we have to go through the process" - but what I realised last week is this. Sadness can be a choice, not an obligation.
Here's the reality. Events will take their course regardless of whether we get sad or not. So try this along with me this week. When the sadness strikes and threatens to define your range of emotion, blow it off. Literally, blow, with your lips, blow it away. Say to yourself what's true - You Can't Take It. The miracle is that if you say it, and then you purse your lips and blow, it'll go.
Go now and read Anne Lamott's piece in The Daily Now about survival in the desert. Anne Lamott cannot help but get you through. http://the-daily-now.blogspot.com/
6.02.2009
CREATIVITY STUDY: MONK HELPERS
The thing about inspiration is that you can't predict when, or where, or even how it'll hit.Often it takes anger and confrontation to put on a new headset. After one of the worst down-days to date in our New Now, John and I met in the ring this morning. Each of us were backed by 24 hours of soul searching - which meant we approached one another with a fresh, pointed and undeniably individual line of thinking. And we were prepared to "share it with eachother". That is, if sharing means someone wins and someone... doesn't.
Understand, we are at a turning point, that place when a decision is not arrived at, it's forced. Hence the 24 hours we each spent figuring out how we felt about where we are. I woke up clamoring "Creativity" - let's liquidate and move to where we want to be -- good luck will surely follow and we'll be more fulfilled than ever. Peace Corps, Key West, the Riviera...
John, though, had steeped through the night, in "Conserve" - let's liquidate and head for the hills, move in with Mom & Dad, hide out and spend nothing until the storm passes.
Two very different corners, where shall the twain meet?
We parted having made our arguments, indeed, argument was the process. We are in this together on no common ground.
I turned to the New York Times looking for inspiration. Here's what I found.
Two entrepreneurs from Colorado sell their copier cartridge business to some Cistercian Monks in Wisconsin who've decided they want to be in the cartridge business. You see, monks are charged with making money, supporting their order, but this group had the big idea (cartridges?) but no head for business (rather make honey and sculpt), so after the deal was made, it becomes clear that the women from Colorado were at the Monastery - to stay - to run what's become a multi-million dollar enterprise, LaserMonks.
The irony of it is what makes is so inspirational. What monk wants to be in the cartridge business? What urban woman of a certain age dreams of her small-beans computer supply company being run to support a Cistercian Monastery? I'm thrilled by how UNpredictable it all is, and it made my morning.
How can you not feel the power of this: “Good morning, LaserMonks. Greetings and peace,” Victoria Bench answers the Monastery's phones. Apparently she's a zen-like presence but the humor doesn't seem to escape her. She says that more likely than not, what she hears on the other end of the phone is “You don’t sound like a monk.”
We're in a tight place in The New Now, and we don't know where we're headed. But I'm starting to realize that we'll likely end up in a place where "we don't sound like a monk".
6.01.2009
INSPIRATION: THE DAILY NOW
Today's been a tough one. I hit a deer at 7:25 on my way to take Cassie to school. I took her broadside with impact, and though she didn't live to know this, I sent her hurtling into the side of a school bus in the other lane. The experience was brutal, and what I realized in an instant was that in The New Now, we cannot afford brutality. We cannot withstand brutality! We must create, promote, what makes us feel better.
I came home, put on running shoes and headed out to come to terms with it. In about 5minutes I had a handful of images that made me feel better. Beauty (not perfection). Resonance (though not too sweet). I didn't want to lose these images, so I created a space to hold them and share them.
THE DAILY NOW
Go to my new blog, http://www.the-daily-now.blogspot.com I've built the site to provide a quick hit of momentum. Of beauty, maybe, of comfort. You'll see me there with something every day. And I welcome your ideas, please comment on The Daily Now to share images or thoughts that will help guide the way for so many of us still struggling in this new space we're living in.
I came home, put on running shoes and headed out to come to terms with it. In about 5minutes I had a handful of images that made me feel better. Beauty (not perfection). Resonance (though not too sweet). I didn't want to lose these images, so I created a space to hold them and share them.
THE DAILY NOW
Go to my new blog, http://www.the-daily-now.blogspot.com I've built the site to provide a quick hit of momentum. Of beauty, maybe, of comfort. You'll see me there with something every day. And I welcome your ideas, please comment on The Daily Now to share images or thoughts that will help guide the way for so many of us still struggling in this new space we're living in.
5.21.2009
CHICKEN IN A BAG
Next recipe in the series of MAKE THIS NOW's. I'm thinking about those of you who have just gotten the bad news. I know how you feel, stomach is in your throat, how to eat? How to even cook? In The New Now, we find ways around the nausea to put dishes on the table. Small smile, go to the store and get just this, in a basket. Easy.
CHICKEN BREASTS IN A BAG WITH BEANS AND LEEKS
You'll need:
3 leeks, 4 skinless boneless chicken breasts, a can of cannelini beans, a clove of sliced garlic, a handful of fresh marjoram or oregano, a small glassful of white wine, 5 oz cream, s+p
You'll do:
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
Using tin foil (the wide size if you have it), make a bag by placing 2 pieces of foil on top of each other, about as big as 2 shoe boxes. Fold 3 sides in tightly, leave 4th side open and place on a cookie sheet. (Tin foil bags can be bought in the supermarket.)
Wash the leeks really well after cutting them into 1/2" disks (up to the tough green part). Boil them for 2 minutes or so to soften.
Drain the beans and rinse them. Put beans, cooked leeks and everything but the chicken in a bowl. Use your hands to mash up the beans a bit. Add the chicken breast, mix it all up, dish it into your foil bag, close up 4th edge and make sure the others are tight.
Bake 28 minutes.
Mixing baby spinach into the bag gives you an even bigger vitamin hit.
* Inspired by adorable Jamie Oliver who never develops a complicated recipe.
CHICKEN BREASTS IN A BAG WITH BEANS AND LEEKS
You'll need:
3 leeks, 4 skinless boneless chicken breasts, a can of cannelini beans, a clove of sliced garlic, a handful of fresh marjoram or oregano, a small glassful of white wine, 5 oz cream, s+p
You'll do:
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
Using tin foil (the wide size if you have it), make a bag by placing 2 pieces of foil on top of each other, about as big as 2 shoe boxes. Fold 3 sides in tightly, leave 4th side open and place on a cookie sheet. (Tin foil bags can be bought in the supermarket.)
Wash the leeks really well after cutting them into 1/2" disks (up to the tough green part). Boil them for 2 minutes or so to soften.
Drain the beans and rinse them. Put beans, cooked leeks and everything but the chicken in a bowl. Use your hands to mash up the beans a bit. Add the chicken breast, mix it all up, dish it into your foil bag, close up 4th edge and make sure the others are tight.
Bake 28 minutes.
Mixing baby spinach into the bag gives you an even bigger vitamin hit.
* Inspired by adorable Jamie Oliver who never develops a complicated recipe.
THE NEW NOW IN LIMBO
You wake up the next morning and confirm with yourself that yes, it's all real, we're in it. It's not a bad dream. Not a bad mood or a hormonal dip.
Don't be scared, I'm with you. People are panicking - still - even when we're told the worst is over. We may have bounced off the bottom in the Dow's plunge, but that doesn't mean we won't keep hitting the sea floor at home. Whether it's the bills which just keep on coming. Or the tax man knocking with claims of underpayment in 2 thousand bloody 6. Or the roof leaking, the plates breaking, the children growing. And we can't pay. It's limbo, scary limbo, and we don't like it.
In this mornings New York Times, an unfamiliar Op Ed contributor, Daniel Gilbert, wrote a piece you just have to read, called "What You Don't Know Makes You Nervous". Gilbert's saying that those of us who are busy predicting the fall are less able to operate these days than those who've already received the news. How many of you expect your job to go, your business to plummet, your health to tank? And aren't you TERRIFIED? But the truth is, once it happens, as Gilbert says, you weep and moan, but then you clap your hands and get on with it.
So what does that mean? That you have it all: your job, your house, your health - and you're so worried about losing it that you're miserable before you need to be?
Limbo is one Hell of a state, indeed. We are going on 2 years of limbo. Not one single day since August 2007 have we felt at home, situated, comfortable or sure that we'll be living in this house, in this zip code, in even a month's time. But a secure place will be reached again, it's guaranteed. And when that time comes we'll ask ourselves why we were so worried in the interim.
Time to create the New Now in Limbo. The collected songs and memories you'll associate with this time. Poems or articles we read when we couldn't get ourselves out of the house. It may not be all wine 'n roses, but it'll be a chapter of our book. As we see Time waft in the door and out the window, don't we want to make sure that this time is accounted for?
My Songs for the Limbo:
Ben Folds and Regina Spektor singing "You Don't Know Me"
Crosby and Nash singing "Lay Me Down"
My Writings for the Limbo:
David Sedaris' "When You are Engulfed in Flames"
Anne Lamott's "Traveling Mercies: Some Notes on Faith"
My Sustenance for the Limbo:
Trader Joe's HUGE dark chocolate bar with hazlenuts
Starbucks' Venti Caffe Misto ($2.49 compared to the latte at triple the price - note that)
My Memories for the Limbo:
Fires in the living room at 5:30 on a weeknight, mid-winter
Driving up Limekiln Road for the 4th or 5th time that day, watching Winter turn to Spring
"Even though it's hard to know just how the story ends
the road is long and it takes its time, on that you can depend..."
- C+N
Don't be scared, I'm with you. People are panicking - still - even when we're told the worst is over. We may have bounced off the bottom in the Dow's plunge, but that doesn't mean we won't keep hitting the sea floor at home. Whether it's the bills which just keep on coming. Or the tax man knocking with claims of underpayment in 2 thousand bloody 6. Or the roof leaking, the plates breaking, the children growing. And we can't pay. It's limbo, scary limbo, and we don't like it.
In this mornings New York Times, an unfamiliar Op Ed contributor, Daniel Gilbert, wrote a piece you just have to read, called "What You Don't Know Makes You Nervous". Gilbert's saying that those of us who are busy predicting the fall are less able to operate these days than those who've already received the news. How many of you expect your job to go, your business to plummet, your health to tank? And aren't you TERRIFIED? But the truth is, once it happens, as Gilbert says, you weep and moan, but then you clap your hands and get on with it.
So what does that mean? That you have it all: your job, your house, your health - and you're so worried about losing it that you're miserable before you need to be?
Limbo is one Hell of a state, indeed. We are going on 2 years of limbo. Not one single day since August 2007 have we felt at home, situated, comfortable or sure that we'll be living in this house, in this zip code, in even a month's time. But a secure place will be reached again, it's guaranteed. And when that time comes we'll ask ourselves why we were so worried in the interim.
Time to create the New Now in Limbo. The collected songs and memories you'll associate with this time. Poems or articles we read when we couldn't get ourselves out of the house. It may not be all wine 'n roses, but it'll be a chapter of our book. As we see Time waft in the door and out the window, don't we want to make sure that this time is accounted for?
My Songs for the Limbo:
Ben Folds and Regina Spektor singing "You Don't Know Me"
Crosby and Nash singing "Lay Me Down"
My Writings for the Limbo:
David Sedaris' "When You are Engulfed in Flames"
Anne Lamott's "Traveling Mercies: Some Notes on Faith"
My Sustenance for the Limbo:
Trader Joe's HUGE dark chocolate bar with hazlenuts
Starbucks' Venti Caffe Misto ($2.49 compared to the latte at triple the price - note that)
My Memories for the Limbo:
Fires in the living room at 5:30 on a weeknight, mid-winter
Driving up Limekiln Road for the 4th or 5th time that day, watching Winter turn to Spring
"Even though it's hard to know just how the story ends
the road is long and it takes its time, on that you can depend..."
- C+N
5.19.2009
WELCOME TO THE NEW NOW
Mom wrote me an email 15 minutes ago when I was typing on about who knows what - she told me of yet another loved one of a loved one who lost his job - she asked me, could I please remind her what my blog was?
First of all, I didn't know my blog was on her radar. She tried to post a comment once and couldn't figure it out - I agree, it's not easy, but all you have to do is click the highlighted "comments" below each post and write... anonymously... I invite you to write! Second of all, and here's what stopped me in my tracks. The layoffs just keep on coming. There and then, I saved what I was writing to tap this out quick. With all the people I hear about, you must be hearing of even more. Send them here, let us lick our wounds together. There's lots to learn from eachother.
Welcome to The New Now, you, who've just entered the space! It's frightfully heavy, it's not what you signed up for. And it isn't unique. The space is full.
When you read Bob Herbert's OpEd entitled "Far From Over" (New York Times, 5/9/09) saying to us: People, April's 544,000 job losses may have been better than March, but that staggering number is a flashing indicator that we are a long way from improving.
What makes it better? What you'll realize as your nausea recedes and the communication skills you've long taken for granted, specifically those between yourself and your loved ones, are put to the test and they come through for you - you realize that TIMES ARE NEW. You're here and you're hurting, even when "everyone else" seems fine. This may have happened "to you", but here you are. Embrace it, it's real and it's NOW.
Go get this week's TIME Magazine, which has a great cover: "The Future of Work". It lays it out, 10 ways your job will change, and they include flexibility, collaboration, freelance and creativity. The New Now. Start as soon as you can. Go for walks with your partner and talk it through. Be brave, this may be happening to you, but you need to work it to your advantage. Stay tuned, we're talking about REINVENTION!
http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,1898024_1898023,00.html
First of all, I didn't know my blog was on her radar. She tried to post a comment once and couldn't figure it out - I agree, it's not easy, but all you have to do is click the highlighted "comments" below each post and write... anonymously... I invite you to write! Second of all, and here's what stopped me in my tracks. The layoffs just keep on coming. There and then, I saved what I was writing to tap this out quick. With all the people I hear about, you must be hearing of even more. Send them here, let us lick our wounds together. There's lots to learn from eachother.
Welcome to The New Now, you, who've just entered the space! It's frightfully heavy, it's not what you signed up for. And it isn't unique. The space is full.
When you read Bob Herbert's OpEd entitled "Far From Over" (New York Times, 5/9/09) saying to us: People, April's 544,000 job losses may have been better than March, but that staggering number is a flashing indicator that we are a long way from improving.
What makes it better? What you'll realize as your nausea recedes and the communication skills you've long taken for granted, specifically those between yourself and your loved ones, are put to the test and they come through for you - you realize that TIMES ARE NEW. You're here and you're hurting, even when "everyone else" seems fine. This may have happened "to you", but here you are. Embrace it, it's real and it's NOW.
Go get this week's TIME Magazine, which has a great cover: "The Future of Work". It lays it out, 10 ways your job will change, and they include flexibility, collaboration, freelance and creativity. The New Now. Start as soon as you can. Go for walks with your partner and talk it through. Be brave, this may be happening to you, but you need to work it to your advantage. Stay tuned, we're talking about REINVENTION!
http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,1898024_1898023,00.html
5.16.2009
THE CYCLONE, 1949
State of things, of our Country, of our Ecomony. Of our homes and relationships."The Cyclone roller coaster became the most famous roller coaster in the world. It had steep drops and savage banked turns that offered patrons an exciting ride."
Coney Island in 1949. People were awed, thrilled. Freedom from insidious ideas abroad was just an infant. Victory in Europe was declared a mere 4 years before; only the lucky few got to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Families were rent asunder, the world was in shambles and yet, people welcomed entertainment like The Cyclone. Terrifying, nauseating and survive-able.
The Cyclone is a symbol of reinvention. A tremendous feat of architecture, defying the odds of fun and physical safety. An unthinkable idea, yet built, and beautiful.
50 years later, what will be our monuments to survivability?
I'm thinking now about reinvention.
4.28.2009
OUT, LOOKING IN
Think we've hit bottom? The weather's better, Madoff's in jail, banks are posting gains. We seem somehow clearer.
We woke today to headlines that an Air Force One jet buzzed over Manhattan on a photo junket - we went wild, angry hens in the hen house! Fly-by airliners over Ground Zero? It is unacceptable, we all know it. We are still a terrified City, you cannot fool around with people so recently wounded. Following expressed ire from the President and a(nother) frank, mea culpa from the White House, we feel vindicated for our anxious reaction. The hens have set themselves back to roost, still clucking sideways and backwards about the unthinkable line that was crossed.
We seem clearer about our boundaries as we begin to trust that we're part of the process. We elected someone who aspires to govern by transparency and we're starting to see what that means. So many of our boundaries have been crossed, now we can re-establish them, for better. They're listening.
We woke today to headlines that an Air Force One jet buzzed over Manhattan on a photo junket - we went wild, angry hens in the hen house! Fly-by airliners over Ground Zero? It is unacceptable, we all know it. We are still a terrified City, you cannot fool around with people so recently wounded. Following expressed ire from the President and a(nother) frank, mea culpa from the White House, we feel vindicated for our anxious reaction. The hens have set themselves back to roost, still clucking sideways and backwards about the unthinkable line that was crossed.
We seem clearer about our boundaries as we begin to trust that we're part of the process. We elected someone who aspires to govern by transparency and we're starting to see what that means. So many of our boundaries have been crossed, now we can re-establish them, for better. They're listening.
But with all that, it's not over. John and I are in a holding pattern, waiting for word on potential opportunities that each passing day seem more like figments of our imagination. Last week two more big jobs were lost in my loose circle of people. Upon hearing, I stood by one friend, with no real encouragement, just empathy. Just these words: "OK, so let's get started..."
I just got a call from a friend in another state, she herself in a good job, her husband as well. But in her town a thousand miles away, the continuing fallout of this thing is at a boil, just as it is around here. She called to ask me what to say, how to be empathetic as more and more people came home with pink slips. She knows from being a passenger on my ride that there are right ways to approach it and not so right. Let's take a minute to record what feels best, when we reach the gates of The New Now, how do we want to be welcomed?
- Meet it head on. Call it what it is, it is a terrible state of being. "If you've reached this point in your career and have not suffered job loss, you're just waiting in line". There is no stigma; when you play, you pay. This is not unique.
- Pay gigantic compliments to the one who's lost the job. John and I both appreciate the many affirmations of who he is and how good he is at what he does. Loss of identity is as big as loss of paycheck; don't let us forget we are still who we always were, but better, stronger, with "more texture".
- Take us out. For a walk, coffee, lunch or dinner. Get us out of our skin. One unemployed friend said that his wife is so much better after she's been with friends. Let her set the pace, but don't avoid the circumstance. This is not something we can or are trying to forget, it's part of our life and we want company in the coping.
- Offer gifts. Great music, scented candles, articles and books. Give things you'd like to receive if you were experiencing the dark of the vacuum. Take a look at The New Now post about the Sanity Salon (2/9/09) for ideas. We have to hold onto our style; liken it to the first trimester of pregnancy when you felt horrific and style has gone out the window. I used to tell my sister during her pregnancy: "Accessorize!"
- Don't get scared. If you're willing, we will take you along for this ride, but be warned: we will proclaim our emotions. We'll say things we mean (and those things will change regularly), we'll say things to get a rise (misery loves company). Empathy for those in the eye of the storm is a great exercise in passive listening.
This is a post begging for comments. Please click below and offer your suggestions. Again, my mantra, WE ARE ONLY AS GOOD AS THE SUM OF OUR PARTS.
4.22.2009
SPARE CHANGE? NO, SPARE RIBS!
Back in November I wrote in my calendar on this day: Are you still breathing? I am, but I still feel pretty sick most evenings when it's time to feed my people. So in that vein, here's the next in the series of WHAT CAN I FEED THEM recipes -
This is a real crowd-pleaser, and though it sounds precious, it won't break the bank. Most of the ingredients are already under your roof, and if they aren't you'll use them up the next 3 times you make this fabulous recipe.
GLAZED PORK RIBS WITH HORSERADISH APPLE SLAW
What you need to feed 4:
3 lbs baby-back pork ribs
1/4 Worcestershire sauce
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1/4 c sour cream
1 Tbsp prepared horseradish
2 tsp apple cider vinegar
1/2 head napa cabbage, shredded with a knife
2 Granny Smith apples cut into strips
a bunch of scallions, sliced
Heat the grill. Season the ribs with salt and pepper. Place on the grill, cover it and cook 20-25 minutes, turning often , until cooked through and tender.
In a small bowl, combine the worcestershire, mustard, brown sugar and baste the ribs during their last 5 minutes of cooking.
In a large salad bowl, whisk the sour cream, horseradish and vinegar, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper. Toss in cabbage, apples and scallions.
Cut the ribs apart and heap them on a serving platter. Serve horseradish with bread next to it.
* Inspired by a Real Simple recipe
This is a real crowd-pleaser, and though it sounds precious, it won't break the bank. Most of the ingredients are already under your roof, and if they aren't you'll use them up the next 3 times you make this fabulous recipe.
GLAZED PORK RIBS WITH HORSERADISH APPLE SLAW
What you need to feed 4:
3 lbs baby-back pork ribs
1/4 Worcestershire sauce
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
1 Tbsp brown sugar
1/4 c sour cream
1 Tbsp prepared horseradish
2 tsp apple cider vinegar
1/2 head napa cabbage, shredded with a knife
2 Granny Smith apples cut into strips
a bunch of scallions, sliced
Heat the grill. Season the ribs with salt and pepper. Place on the grill, cover it and cook 20-25 minutes, turning often , until cooked through and tender.
In a small bowl, combine the worcestershire, mustard, brown sugar and baste the ribs during their last 5 minutes of cooking.
In a large salad bowl, whisk the sour cream, horseradish and vinegar, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper. Toss in cabbage, apples and scallions.
Cut the ribs apart and heap them on a serving platter. Serve horseradish with bread next to it.
* Inspired by a Real Simple recipe
4.21.2009
CANYON LADIES
This one's a tribute, off the subject or condition that one must be in crisis to be needy. Or to be fulfilled. In the New York Times Health section today, Tara Parker-Pope published an article about the overarching healing power of friendship.
I read the article this morning and, cynically, wrote it off as simplistic. Interesting anecdotes. Stories of women seeking solace in childhood friendships to cope through divorce or Cancer diagnosis; A 10-year study showing that older people with larger circles of friends were 22% less likely to die during the study period than those with fewer friends. And if there's no other justification for being friendly, Pope reported that studies show that the risk of obesity is some 60% higher among folks whose friends gain weight. Strength in numbers. The power of the Tribe....
Then, funny how this works, I heard the quiet strains of a long-forgotten song about just this power, the power of friends to heal friends, and Pope's article took on the mighty proportion it deserves. Listen to Joni Mitchell's song "Ladies of the Canyon" http://www.rhapsody.com/joni-mitchell/ladies-of-the-canyon--1970. It takes you behind an easel with Trina who "wears her wampum beads", then it sits you down with Annie who "may make some brownies today". Without you even sipping a cup of almond tea or hearing an inside story, "Ladies of the Canyon" brings you into the heart of what it is to be a woman among friends.
I was afforded this great privilege over the weekend, offered entry into a family of women who have become to one another what flesh and blood can never be. In a place just like Joni's Canyon, a place of "empty halls and beveled mirrors, sailing seas and climbing banyons". The time and place were gifts, but above all, what a privilege to be "welcomed in" (as Joni says it) to a tradition set well before I arrived.
Parker-Pope's Times article is a powerful and substantiated statement about what even those with the great fortune of a Tribe may take for granted. She writes:
"Last year, researchers studied 34 students at the University of Virginia, taking them to the base of a steep hill and fitting them with a weighted backpack. They were then asked to estimate the steepness of the hill. Some participants stood next to friends during the exercise, while others were alone.
The students who stood with friends gave lower estimates of the steepness of the hill. And the longer the friends had known each other, the less steep the hill appeared. "
I read the article this morning and, cynically, wrote it off as simplistic. Interesting anecdotes. Stories of women seeking solace in childhood friendships to cope through divorce or Cancer diagnosis; A 10-year study showing that older people with larger circles of friends were 22% less likely to die during the study period than those with fewer friends. And if there's no other justification for being friendly, Pope reported that studies show that the risk of obesity is some 60% higher among folks whose friends gain weight. Strength in numbers. The power of the Tribe....
Then, funny how this works, I heard the quiet strains of a long-forgotten song about just this power, the power of friends to heal friends, and Pope's article took on the mighty proportion it deserves. Listen to Joni Mitchell's song "Ladies of the Canyon" http://www.rhapsody.com/joni-mitchell/ladies-of-the-canyon--1970. It takes you behind an easel with Trina who "wears her wampum beads", then it sits you down with Annie who "may make some brownies today". Without you even sipping a cup of almond tea or hearing an inside story, "Ladies of the Canyon" brings you into the heart of what it is to be a woman among friends.
I was afforded this great privilege over the weekend, offered entry into a family of women who have become to one another what flesh and blood can never be. In a place just like Joni's Canyon, a place of "empty halls and beveled mirrors, sailing seas and climbing banyons". The time and place were gifts, but above all, what a privilege to be "welcomed in" (as Joni says it) to a tradition set well before I arrived.
Parker-Pope's Times article is a powerful and substantiated statement about what even those with the great fortune of a Tribe may take for granted. She writes:
"Last year, researchers studied 34 students at the University of Virginia, taking them to the base of a steep hill and fitting them with a weighted backpack. They were then asked to estimate the steepness of the hill. Some participants stood next to friends during the exercise, while others were alone.
The students who stood with friends gave lower estimates of the steepness of the hill. And the longer the friends had known each other, the less steep the hill appeared. "
4.16.2009
REALLY, THE WORST
Parenting moments, they're stories we need to tell. There's some kind of unspoken mechanism between us parents, in that when we tell our parenting stories we purge them, and let them go - we do this with friends and strangers alike. There's an element of forgiveness that comes when we confess. Telling my parenting stories is the closest I come to understanding the power of a Catholic's Confession of Sins.
This small post is a wide acknowledgement of the terribly misguided parenting decision I made on Tuesday, when all I was trying to do was get John's attention.
As always, I've boiled it down to two kinds of people. I do this in every situation or scenario, it's a most convenient scything of any experience. In the New Now, the first kind of person is he who falls into a minor and, we hope, short-lived depression when he loses his job. The other kind tries to maintain a constant (!) and healthy (!) flow of communication about feelings, while remaining ebullient (!) and fun loving (!). Guess who's who?
So John's been laid a little fallow in his drag of a mood, trudging through the last couple of weeks, including Spring's early moments, Easter's traditional festivities. There've been people everywhere, and that's the problem. EVERYWHERE, we've had a revolving door (see "second kind of person" above). John's and my communications, over the last week or so, have gotten more and more caveperson-like, he has headed inward and I've sought solace by creating a carnival(!*!*!*!)
The parenting moment? After attempts at getting through to my husband, in a festive (!), fun-loving (!) way, to absolutely no avail, I decided to take a Type A personality's standard route to honesty, I employed Shock and Awe and announced over lunch to my 3 young children and 2 even younger nieces - with John as a witness - that WE COULD NOT CONTINUE THIS WAY, OUR MARRIAGE JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT, HE HAD TO TAKE IT ON THE ROAD... You can plug in the rest.
Oh yes, I got John's attention. Eldest child left the house in inconsolable tears, middle one positioned himself between his sputtering parents pleading for us to "hug", youngest cried out that she loved us both. Nieces sat without appetite, eyes like saucers (I have since told their parents that I'd help with the therapy bills.)
Did I mean what I said? Not remotely! I love John and I am toally committed, just a mite annoyed at his self-indulgent moodiness. I am Type A, that's for sure, but it is high time I realized that my Type A communication strategies don't necessarily speak to the audience.
We've made up, nobody's scared about where they'll be sleeping tonight. I made absolutely NO point, I bombed. Thanks for listening, I feel forgiven.
This small post is a wide acknowledgement of the terribly misguided parenting decision I made on Tuesday, when all I was trying to do was get John's attention.
As always, I've boiled it down to two kinds of people. I do this in every situation or scenario, it's a most convenient scything of any experience. In the New Now, the first kind of person is he who falls into a minor and, we hope, short-lived depression when he loses his job. The other kind tries to maintain a constant (!) and healthy (!) flow of communication about feelings, while remaining ebullient (!) and fun loving (!). Guess who's who?
So John's been laid a little fallow in his drag of a mood, trudging through the last couple of weeks, including Spring's early moments, Easter's traditional festivities. There've been people everywhere, and that's the problem. EVERYWHERE, we've had a revolving door (see "second kind of person" above). John's and my communications, over the last week or so, have gotten more and more caveperson-like, he has headed inward and I've sought solace by creating a carnival(!*!*!*!)
The parenting moment? After attempts at getting through to my husband, in a festive (!), fun-loving (!) way, to absolutely no avail, I decided to take a Type A personality's standard route to honesty, I employed Shock and Awe and announced over lunch to my 3 young children and 2 even younger nieces - with John as a witness - that WE COULD NOT CONTINUE THIS WAY, OUR MARRIAGE JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT, HE HAD TO TAKE IT ON THE ROAD... You can plug in the rest.
Oh yes, I got John's attention. Eldest child left the house in inconsolable tears, middle one positioned himself between his sputtering parents pleading for us to "hug", youngest cried out that she loved us both. Nieces sat without appetite, eyes like saucers (I have since told their parents that I'd help with the therapy bills.)
Did I mean what I said? Not remotely! I love John and I am toally committed, just a mite annoyed at his self-indulgent moodiness. I am Type A, that's for sure, but it is high time I realized that my Type A communication strategies don't necessarily speak to the audience.
We've made up, nobody's scared about where they'll be sleeping tonight. I made absolutely NO point, I bombed. Thanks for listening, I feel forgiven.
4.13.2009
WHO'S HURTING MOST
Fancy meeting you, here in this Age of Austerity. Publications from the New York Times to Lucky Magazine are commenting about the required as well as the elected mantle of frugality. Do a search on the Times' website and you'll come up with "Consumed: Haute Frugality" and "Austere Times? Perfect!" Apparently, all articles I'll have to read. Lucky, the shopping rag, is beside itself (and the self of its advertisers) with online features such as "This Entire Site is Under $30". eBay and H&M are plastered all over it. A friend's mother, age 70 and independantly wealthy, self-identifies as "only a corner away from bag lady". This new era is playing heavily on our conscience. Even those fully employed with healthy savings are taking on the Great Depression Challenge. Seems we're all game.
I have mixed feelings about the common experience of austerity. Maybe some sense of ownership over the New Now? I know we are not unique - out of jobs and anxious about our future. But when I read about New York City apartment owners taking in boarders when they're still making great salaries, or hear the tense fear and anxiety on the other end of the phone as a friend talks about her husband not getting paid his bonus on time, I want to scream "J-O-B, people!" as I stab wildly with two thumbs at my own chest.
But remember 9-11? No matter where you lived or how you voted, you were changed by living it. Everyone has a story, a reason (fact or fiction) the attacks changed our life. Similarly, John and I will always tell our shock and terror story which began with having the door closed behind him by his boss and the HR professional who axed him. And others will have their narrative about the New Now.
OK - so maybe I am trying to own the New Now, a little. I confess - and here are two points that set me straight (for the moment). The first one, the sanity check that doesn't even require a trip to Africa or India. Last week an article was published in the Times called "Keeping It Secret as the Family Car Becomes a Home" http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/02/us/02cars.html?_r=1&scp=9&sq=homeless&st=cse. Ian Urbana writes "As with all homeless people, finding food, warmth and a place to clean up is a constant struggle. But for those who live in their cars, remaining inconspicuous is its own challenge, and though living this way is illegal in most places, experts and advocates believe it is a growing trend." I'm feeling deprived because John and I haven't been on a date since November. Larry Chaney of Erie, PA passes his time over a single cup of coffee in a local diner and plays "mindlessly" with a ring of keys to mask the fact that he has no door to unlock.
For the second slap-me point, read Judith Warner's blog "Domestic Disturbances", her post entitled "Families to Care About" http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/19/families-to-care-about/#more-219. Warner toggles between joining me in my desire to make this economic crisis a wake-up call for "yummy mummies" who have sadly had to cut their nanny staff. I read the post with relish, thinking Warner was leading to a conclusion that would damn the mummy while we damn her banker spouse. Instead - egg in face - Warner goes another direction, saying that "this is a classic blue collar recession. Fully half the jobs that have been lost so far have been in construction and manufacturing. Only 5.1 percent of job losses have been in finance and insurance — the kinds of careers that support the opt-out lifestyle." So it's not about the millionaire or the mummy at all. Snap out of it, sister! Those who are really in crisis are the same who have triple-jobbed while passing their spouses in the hallway. Shame on me for forgetting that I rest soundly in that white-collar 5%.
This is all about the reminder that - still - we need to create an economy that supports women and men who have never had it easy. We need flexible hours and borderless employers who see working from home as a win-win. We need childcare that will help fill our schools with richly textured kindergartners. (Maria Montessori fashioned her early childhood institutes for poor children in early 20th century Italy, not rich suburbanite tikes.) Women are contributing hugely to digging us out of this crisis (82% of those who've sought unemployment in the last 8 months are men). Time to remind ourselves what kind of quest we've been on to support them, and continue the fight.
I have mixed feelings about the common experience of austerity. Maybe some sense of ownership over the New Now? I know we are not unique - out of jobs and anxious about our future. But when I read about New York City apartment owners taking in boarders when they're still making great salaries, or hear the tense fear and anxiety on the other end of the phone as a friend talks about her husband not getting paid his bonus on time, I want to scream "J-O-B, people!" as I stab wildly with two thumbs at my own chest.
But remember 9-11? No matter where you lived or how you voted, you were changed by living it. Everyone has a story, a reason (fact or fiction) the attacks changed our life. Similarly, John and I will always tell our shock and terror story which began with having the door closed behind him by his boss and the HR professional who axed him. And others will have their narrative about the New Now.
OK - so maybe I am trying to own the New Now, a little. I confess - and here are two points that set me straight (for the moment). The first one, the sanity check that doesn't even require a trip to Africa or India. Last week an article was published in the Times called "Keeping It Secret as the Family Car Becomes a Home" http://www.nytimes.com/2006/04/02/us/02cars.html?_r=1&scp=9&sq=homeless&st=cse. Ian Urbana writes "As with all homeless people, finding food, warmth and a place to clean up is a constant struggle. But for those who live in their cars, remaining inconspicuous is its own challenge, and though living this way is illegal in most places, experts and advocates believe it is a growing trend." I'm feeling deprived because John and I haven't been on a date since November. Larry Chaney of Erie, PA passes his time over a single cup of coffee in a local diner and plays "mindlessly" with a ring of keys to mask the fact that he has no door to unlock.
For the second slap-me point, read Judith Warner's blog "Domestic Disturbances", her post entitled "Families to Care About" http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/19/families-to-care-about/#more-219. Warner toggles between joining me in my desire to make this economic crisis a wake-up call for "yummy mummies" who have sadly had to cut their nanny staff. I read the post with relish, thinking Warner was leading to a conclusion that would damn the mummy while we damn her banker spouse. Instead - egg in face - Warner goes another direction, saying that "this is a classic blue collar recession. Fully half the jobs that have been lost so far have been in construction and manufacturing. Only 5.1 percent of job losses have been in finance and insurance — the kinds of careers that support the opt-out lifestyle." So it's not about the millionaire or the mummy at all. Snap out of it, sister! Those who are really in crisis are the same who have triple-jobbed while passing their spouses in the hallway. Shame on me for forgetting that I rest soundly in that white-collar 5%.
This is all about the reminder that - still - we need to create an economy that supports women and men who have never had it easy. We need flexible hours and borderless employers who see working from home as a win-win. We need childcare that will help fill our schools with richly textured kindergartners. (Maria Montessori fashioned her early childhood institutes for poor children in early 20th century Italy, not rich suburbanite tikes.) Women are contributing hugely to digging us out of this crisis (82% of those who've sought unemployment in the last 8 months are men). Time to remind ourselves what kind of quest we've been on to support them, and continue the fight.
3.30.2009
OUT OF YOUR SKIN
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.
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.
3.11.2009
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!
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