Pressing Matter: Paralyzed



I’ve been missing. No posts for a month. Life is uncertain right now and I’m paralyzed. Like my mama always said, if you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything at all – thus my silence. Hard to be chipper and positive when you are scared spitless.

RE is having challenges at work. He had planned to work several more years. His employer isn’t seeing it that way. Besides his regular duties, he has been tasked with improving his knowledge in certain areas to preserve his job and I am trying to support him. His employer will give him a determination in two weeks. He’s giving it his best effort. It all seems pretty subjective.   Despite his best efforts, he’s feeling “unwanted” vibes.

What if it doesn’t work out? We lose more than half of our income and his company car. And it’s not that easy finding a comparable job as a 65 year- old, white male. It will make a huge difference to our retirement. (What retirement?) Our daughter is still in college.  We stand on the edge of a wide and deep abyss.  Paralyzed.  Truthfully, the determination will be a relief.  This uncertainty is killing both of us.

In our 34 years, we’ve faced other seemingly insurmountable challenges.  Frankly, we were younger and had a lot more time to recoup.  Do we fall off a cliff – or soar to new heights?  At least with an answer we’ll be forced out of paralysis.

Have you ever been paralyzed with fear and uncertainty?  How did you cope?

Pressing Matter: Seattle “Flipthed” Again

Remember when I was whining about the cold and dreary Seattle weather?  Well, I got my comeuppance.  Today it was officially 95 degrees in downtown Seattle.  Give me back my cold and dreary city.  (You were so right, Catherine!)  Seattle has “flipthed” back to the Northern Hemisphere and it’s become summer with a vengeance.

“Big deal!” you say.  The other coast has been suffering under triple digits for days.  They are finally feeling relief.  ”Two days at 90 plus degrees.  What a wuss to whine about that!”

I’m here to tell you that 90 plus degrees in Seattle is living hell.  There is no escape.  Air conditioners are rare in Seattle.  They might be used two weeks out of the year.  Backyard swimming pools?  Not a chance!  The swimming season is too short.  Sleeping in this heat is hopeless.  You can see the lack of sleep on people’s faces as they come to work the next day.  Last year we hit 105º.  I had taken vacation because Bird and his family were visiting.  As we sweltered, I longed for work and my air-conditioned office.  We finally gave up and reserved two rooms at the Residence Inn until it broke 90 and we could stand to go home.  A-h-h-h-h.   The Residence Inn.   Air conditioning and a swimming pool.  It was sublime.

I’m just lying here on the floor panting with my poor, hairy, black dog.  We are both miserable and looking for relief.  We may go in the backyard and hose down.  We are dreaming of the Residence Inn.  AND they take dogs!

How do you escape the summer heat?

Pressing Matter: The Flipth of July

Here we are – the Fifth of July.  For the rest of the Northern Hemisphere it’s the middle of summer.  Here it’s damp and bone chilling.  (Maybe Seattle has flipped hemispheres. Southern Hemisphere = the middle of winter.)  Since the Fourth tends to be an outside celebration, Seattleites are painfully aware of its weather shortcomings when facing barbeques with jackets, hats and gloves. Yesterday, I ate my barbeque with friends huddled around a fire pit, under an umbrella with steady rain streaming down.  But that’s the typical Seattle Fourth of July.  Of the 18 years we’ve lived in Seattle, I can think of only several occasions of mild, clear summer weather during the Fourth. When it occurs, we are practically giddy.

I compile a cultural presentation for a team of recruiters in Asia to educate them about Seattle and the Puget Sound.  In researching July, I discovered that it’s our driest, sunniest month – but don’t be bringing your suntan lotion.  The average temperature is 65 AND we get 12 completely sunny days!  (Seattle only gets a total of 71 clear days a year.)  We get so little sun in Seattle that we are advised as a population to take Vitamin D. 

Here are the advantages. There were no fires from yesterday’s fireworks.  Air conditioning is unnecessary.  We haven’t had to water our lawns this year.  It’s so green; we call Seattle the Emerald City. Only tourists use umbrellas.  (It doesn’t rain that hard and if we waited until it stopped, we’d never go anywhere.)  We buy more sunglasses because when we finally need them, we can’t find them. We don’t worry about our hair.  We wash it and wear it naturally. (A fashion capital, we are not.)

Have I enticed you to visit?  Not so much?  The Seattle Visitors and Convention Bureau hasn’t recruited me to promote the city.  When it’s clear and sunny, it is one of the most stunning places on earth. You just have to figure out when one of those 71 days occurs. They say that the Fifth of July is the official start of the Seattle summer.

What’s your favorite summertime place?  I’m open to suggestions.

Pressing Matter: Unplug. Get a Life!

Yesterday I conducted a virtual training session. The scope was nationwide. About 10 minutes into the presentation –the internet connection went dead company wide. That meant the PowerPoint that I had labored over for three days was useless. All that visual impact that I had planned was kaput. I actually had to talk my way through this – just like in the old days. (Ten years ago.) I continued lecturing over the phone lines sans visuals. Somehow we got through it. What if I had been too young to remember life “before technology”? Would I have been able to carry on? Technology! Ugh! A double-edged sword.

I am not a technology geek. My younger colleagues put me to shame in that area. But I’m trying to hold my own in the ever-changing world of technology. I work on computer all day. I have a smart phone and can stay connected 24/7. I admit I don’t have my family’s cell phone numbers committed to memory because they are stored in my mobile. I do get a bit edgy if I don’t have access to check my Facebook, LinkedIn, company and personal e-mail. Am I technology addicted? Maybe not – but certainly, I’m dependent. What happens if the power grid goes down? Are my contacts in my Blackberry lost to me forever? (RE! Bug! Will our paths ever cross again?) Does life as we know it come to a grinding halt?

Let’s hope not. There are points in time that I currently unplug . In the car. At the dinner table. At social functions. I’m considering instituting more “unplugged sanity breaks” to improve the quality of life. My real life – which means face to face contact with my family and friends. Dare I institute a whole day without technology?

Are you addicted? Dependent? Do you “unplug”?

Pressing Matter: When I’m Gone

 

This sounds like it should be a very deep and philosophical subject.  It’s not.  It’s about little, dumb things where I stand in the way. 

If I were hit by a truck tomorrow – what are the things that RE would do without me?  (What he’d probably use the insurance money to accomplish.)  A year after I was pushing up daisies – I know this would happen!

He would cut down the three cherry trees in the back yard. 

Yes, I know they don’t bear cherries.  While immature fruit appears, everything falls off before developing, making a mess on the deck.  And yes, I know the trees have become overgrown.  But they can be trimmed and they provide welcome shade – especially during the hot summer we had last year.  And they provide privacy in the summer – from the neighbors who can peer into our very, small back yard.  I am the only thing that stands between those cherry trees and the chain saw.

He would buy the matching armoire for our bedroom suite. 

When RE buys furniture – he wants every matching piece ever made – even if there’s no room to put it. We have a good-sized master bedroom – but it’s filled to the brim with furniture now.  He and the “next” Mrs. Danbom would have to suspend the armoire from the ceiling. 

He’d complete my luggage.

When I started travelling frequently, I invested in some sturdy Travelpro luggage in navy blue.  I have five matching pieces. I don’t need any more.  Last week, he tried to talk me into the smallest suitcase for $149.  I don’t need it and don’t want to part with $149. (It’s that compulsion to complete the set again.)  With the cost of flying with extra bags these days – who needs six?

He (and Bug) would buy a Mercedes 350 SLK.  Convertible

It’s not that I don’t love convertibles.  RE bought me the first one in the mid 80’s when they started producing them again. I just knew that when we purchased the G6 as my transportation, that I would never get to drive it – if it had been the convertible.  I opted for the more sedate sedan. (Well, it’s not real sedate.  It is bright red.)

These things are so trivial and if I was truly gone, it certainly wouldn’t matter to me.  But it made me realize that marriage is a give and take and I can be somewhat of a “butthead” when it comes to having my way. 

Are you ever a “butthead”?

Pressing Matter: Polly Want a Debit or Credit?

This is a picture of me presenting to the Institute of Management Accountants at their national conference in Baltimore this week. If this is a speech for accountants, why is there a parrot on the screen?

I have been anticipating this speech for over six months. I have spoken in front of this group before. I volunteered to do it again and was accepted – one of 35 invited nationally to speak. I do this for work – to make sure that my company has a voice in the world of accounting and finance. But it’s something I squeeze in around my other work – which has been pretty busy lately. In the two final weeks before the speech – that’s all I did for days. Week days and week-ends. Unrelenting. It had to be perfect. My subject? Sure as heck – not accounting. “Social Networking for the Management Accountant: WIIFM?” (What’s In It for Me?)

I arrived in Baltimore very early Saturday morning and continued to hone my speech continuously up to its delivery on Tuesday afternoon. Then it was show time!

How do you know when something like this succeeds? If it doesn’t go well, no one comments afterword. They just all get up, leave and avoid your gaze for the rest of the conference.

It seemed to go well. I got them laughing – 100 accountants were laughing at my social networking jokes. Some came up to thank me and said they enjoyed it. The next day, people stopped me in the halls between sessions to tell me that they liked and got some value out of my speech. What a relief.

The parrot? I was talking about being careful what you choose to put out on the web. Will Rogers said “Live your life in a manner that you could sell your parrot to the town gossip.” I told them the internet was the new “town gossip”

You may not have missed me. I missed you – but I’m finally coming up for air!

Pressing Matter: Earning Your “Arms”?

I’m in Arizona.  Travel used to be a common thing in my job prior to the meltdown.  I travelled two out of four weeks.  That came to a screeching halt – and truthfully – I’ve missed it. 

I am in Arizona to teach executive recruiting.  My past relationship with Arizona was a hot one.  Literally.  My invitation was normally in July or August.  115 degrees was not uncommon.  Since Arizona has plenty of air conditioning and swimming pools – I was okay with it.

I arrived in Phoenix yesterday and I’m luxuriating in the perfect weather.  High 80′s and dry.  I’m staying in a place called Carefree, AZ.  I noticed during the ride to Carefree that the Saguaro Cacti are in bloom.  Every cactus is crowned with white flowers.  Seeing these beautiful flowers – the state flower of Arizona – is like being given a gift.  I took a walk last night and enjoyed the cactus flowers and the road runners.  (Real road runners as in “Meep!  Meep!”)

If you’ve never seen them – the Saguaro  Cactus is the tree-sized cactus that you picture from the old westerns.  They live in the Sonoran Desert, grow up to 80 feet tall and can live to 150.  At 10 years old – they are only inches tall.  They don’t grow their “arms” until they are at least 50.  It’s a hard life in the Sonoran Desert with extreme temperatures.  The chances of survival- even for cacti are slim.  By age 50, when they are sprouting arms, they’ve earned it.

I’m trying to figure out if I’ve sprouted “arms.”  Age-wise – I’m plenty “mature” to have earned them.  But from a learning aspect, have I earned them?  I’ve raised (am raising) a family.  I’ve survived corporate life through several recessions.  I’m hoping I have several arms.

How about you?  What earned you your “arms”?

Pressing Matter: Lighter Than Air

I’ve been on a health and diet regimen since the first of the year -  ever since it hit me that I had a speaking engagement in June.  The possibility of standing in front of hundreds of people at my post-holiday weight ran shivers down my spine.  I couldn’t lose all the weight, but knew I could look a lot better with four solid months of healthy living.   I enlisted RE and (for the umpteenth time) we rejoined  that national weight loss program that Jennifer Hudson now hawks.  Four months – 37 pounds.

For us Saturday is the accountability session – the “weigh-in.”  Of course, I’d like to see a loss every week – but that’s not realistic.  There is a weigh- in strategy, however – and from the feedback at the meeting, I’m not the only one who practices it.    I admit prior to weigh-in, I have stood in my closet holding two garments, trying to determine which weighs less.  One member claimed that she even judges the weight of her bra.  Here’s the procedure I religiously follow.

Sure-Fire Weigh-In Strategy

1. Weigh on the same scale every week  (They claim they are all the same.  Ha!)
2. “Relieve” myself prior to weighing
3. Remove my shoes
4. Take off belts, jewelry, jackets anything that might add weight
5. Wear the lightest thing I own and the weather will allow

Which brings me to my “sure-fire” get-rich scheme.  Tissue paper garments for weigh ins.  (Not recommended for rainy days.)  While they might not be the most flattering, they’re sure to give an extra edge on a less than perfect week.

Ridiculous strategy?  Fooling myself?  Hey, 37 pounds later, the strategy has worked for me and I’m sticking with it.

Do you have any strategies/beliefs that you doggedly cling to?

Pressing Matter: I Want a Crystal Catsuit

Billy Farrell/PatrickMcMullan/Sipa

I love bling.  My daughter, Buglette  and I both love bling.  I once heard Bette Midler refer to herself as a magpie, a bird who covets shiny objects.  Bug and I can identify with that.

I just read that Lady Gaga wowed them at the Metropolitan Ball by wearing a crystal-encrusted catsuit by Georgio Armani instead of a traditional ball gown.

I want a crystal catsuit.  Just a couple of concerns arise.

1. I can’t find it in XXL
2. Where would I wear it without causing civil upheaval and fleeing in the streets?

At Bug’s age, I would have had the nerve to do it.  (In fact, Bug would look great in the crystal-encrusted catsuit.  Maybe I can live vicariously through her.)  As my personal stylist, Bug pushes me to not look so matronly and dated.  After all, age is a state of mind.   But  I feel sorry for mature women who dress too young.  It looks like they’re trying too hard.  I’d rather err on the conservative side.   The crystal-encrusted catsuit, however, would be clearly over the edge

The question is how does a mature woman look up to date – without looking ridiculous?

Pressing Matter: Please Say What You Mean

This Spring I found myself walking the beach.  In March I walked the Atlantic Coast due to my mother-in-law’s funeral and in April on the Pacific Coast because of a business gathering.  I love the ocean – any ocean.  I find ocean visits very restorative.   The ocean is like a huge, aqua-therapist.  In both cases, after a beach stroll, I found myself releasing tensions and breathing deeper.  RE and I would like to retire at the NC Beach.  We both agree on that. But when I think back to the beginning of our relationship – I have to laugh at the misunderstanding we originally had about the beach.

I was a Midwesterner with very little oceanic experience.  The closest experience I could claim was ice-cold Lake Michigan. (B-r-r-r.  A body of water that can freeze the shin bones even in the doldrums of the hottest summer.)  But I truly love swimming and enjoying water in any form.  RE came from Maryland and grew up with the ocean and all that it had to offer.  When we talked about making our first beach trip to Wrightsville Beach, NC, I was beside myself with excitement and anticipation.  How exciting it would be to finally enter the immense ocean and experience it’s salty, invigorating tang.

The day arrived and we packed up for our day at the beach.  Beach blankets, umbrella, sunglasses and hats, radio, suntan lotion, books and magazines, cooler with drinks and food – we were equipped for a complete day.  We arrived at the beach about 10 AM, set up, applied suntan lotion to each other, donned our sun glasses and smiled warmly at each other.  We had finally arrived at the beach.

“Well,“ I asked with eager enthusiasm.  “All ready?”

He looked at me quizzically.  “Yup, we’re here.  All ready for what?”

“To go in the ocean!  Are you ready to come in with me?”

“You mean… in the water?  No – I don’t think so.”

I was stunned!  He said that he loved the beach.  And now that we’re so close, he won’t go in the water?  What’s up with this?  “What?  I thought you said you loved the beach?”

“And I do!” he insisted.  “The beach, not the ocean.  Now that we’ve applied suntan lotion, we don’t want to wash it off.  Besides – there are jelly fish and sharks in the water.  If I’m going to get in the water, I prefer a pool where I can see what I’m dealing with.  I want to lie on the beach, soaking up the sun’s rays working on a tan, and listening to the waves and beach music.  I just love the beach.”

Semantics!  Picky!  Picky!  Picky!  How could he have possibly left out this little detail?  He has an aversion to going in the water.  Now that I was so close, nobody was going to stop me from going into the ocean.  (The Carolina Beach has a gentle slope and on a mild day – no dangerous under currents.  There were many people in the water and life guards present.)  I marched into the water alone, determined to enjoy what I had come for.  It was as exhilarating and wonderful as I had anticipated.  Throughout the day, I entered the water at least 10 times.  Nothing ate me, stung me or pursued me from the depths of the ocean.  (At least I wasn’t aware of anything.)  RE did accompany me on about one-third of my trips.  No harm came to him either.

Looking back we laugh about our beach misunderstanding. When the kids were growing up, I was the primary ocean parent while he sat on the beach holding the fort down.

What means something to one person can mean something completely different to another.  The context is based on our unique experience.  Have you ever had a miscommunication like this and with whom?