MOVING DAY
So this Friday, I am moving to Beirut circa 1984. Well, at least that is how the contractor described the condition of the new apartment. There is no running water and exposed electrical wires. There is no kitchen and no bathroom, and even if there was, they would be useless since there is no plumbing right now. There will be almost no furniture, which is not a bad thing since there is dust and bits of plaster everywhere. I suppose that since there are not bullets flying through the windows (as there may have been if I have moved to this neighborhood 25 years ago), I should count myself lucky.
A month ago, when we gave notice on our current apartment and decided to move into the new place during renovations, this seemed like a good idea. The contractor was confident that most of the apartment would be completed and that, at the very least, there would be a working shower and toilet, even if there were not yet tiles on the floor. But, through no fault of our contractor (who we actually adore and would work with again in a heartbeat), the co-op board delayed and delayed on the required approvals and work is really just beginning. So we are weeks behind our original timetable and I begin to understand why our contractor refuses to put a “time is of the essence” clause in a contract concerning co-op renovations.
But, Husband and I are up to the challenge. We are going to “camp” in our new place and Sister has generously given us the key to her place for middle of the night bathroom emergencies and morning showers. Husband, Tiki, Cody and I will all live in the master bedroom and hope that the dust we are inhaling contains only minimal amounts of lead. (And, if there is lead, then when Sesame is actually born and does something stupid, I can tell him/her that it is not their fault but because Mommy inhaled poison during pregnancy.)
I will continue updates as the renovations continue and, in the meantime, am glad to have an office with a nice clean bathroom. Somehow, I see many a late work night in my future over the next couple of weeks.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
INVESTING IN MY FUTURE
Just this week, the accountant at my office asked me if I was pregnant. Apparently she was out of the office when I made the big announcement in December and had just figured I had been gaining weight over the last few months.
"Congratulations!" She gushed when she saw me. We talked about when I am due (June 27th) and how much she loved it when her kids were born. And then this:
"I suppose when the baby comes, you'll want to be a stay at home Mommy, right?"
I have spent many a sleepless night lying awake feeling my unborn child kick me non-stop and wondering about how the impending birth is going to change my life. First and foremost on my mind is childcare.
I live in Manhattan and work helping low income people fight for livable wages. The problem is that while I feel really good about my career choice, I barely make a livable wage myself. I never really cared about this since Husband, Sister and the rest of my family are generous enough to pay for vacations and the occasional meal, and while I do appreciate having nice things, I can also live without.
And, while there are certain aspects of my current job that I really don't like, I do like working overall. In fact, I love being busy with my work and my volunteer activities and can not imagine giving them up. Do I want to be an attorney forever? Likely not. Are there other career opportunities that I am eager to explore? Most definitely!
So then, Husband and I wrestle with the different ways to handle child care. Mother generously offered to help out a few times a week, but I feel bad having her watch my child just when all of her children are grown. Mother has fabulous vacations planned and keeps a relatively full schedule. She does not need a nanny job.
And what about a professional nanny? Well, the starting salary is somewhere around $600 per week, not including healthcare and overtime. I make just barely more than that and I have wondered about the trade off of working just to pay the nanny.
And then there is day care. At $2000+ a month on average, it is slightly out of our price range and the places we have explored do not allow child to enroll before 8 months of age. So that would be 8 months where I would be out of work and the idea of trying to catch back up and re-hone my skills terrifies me.
Part of me thinks of the cost of child care as an investment in my career. Money I am putting in now to ensure a higher return in the future. And part of me wonders why I am so eager to leave my child and go back to work even before it is born.
But the other day, I met a group
of women who really helped to clarify my thinking on the subject. We had gathered for a roundtable discussion about how the Clinton campaign resonates with working women and, due to my obvious pregnancy, the topic of working motherhood came up. One of the woman who was part of the discussion runs Working Mother Magazine, so clearly she had some insight into the matter.
I was open and honest regarding my fears for the future: our lack of affordable childcare options, society’s expectation that I stay home, the fact that Husband’s salary is so much more than mine and thus the one we rely on more. And also I spoke about how I am happiest when I am busy and thrive on participating in things like NYC Shiba Rescue, Haven Coalition and even my job (especially when Evil Partner is on vacation). I don’t know if I would be satisfied with full time motherhood and think I may even begin to feel isolated from my friends.
The women of the group nodded in sympathy. They had all been in my position and all felt like they were fighting an uphill battle against the same forces I felt.
One woman nodded in sympathy when I explained how the nanny would make more than I do (or close to it) and told me, “Going into debt for childcare is an investment in your future. It’s like going into debt for law school. You are paying out money now and expecting a huge return on your future.”
That was a moment of clarity for me. It’s okay to work just to pay the nanny (if that is what I choose) since the personal and career rewards I would reap from that investment would more than pay me back. And, while that may not ultimately be the decision I make, and I certainly would never fault those who made a different decision, it is nice to know that when the time comes, I am not alone.
And really, whether I go back to work right away, take some time off or never go back to the workforce, I am investing in my future. I am doing something that may not be cost effective now because I know the benefits I will have in the future. And I am lucky to have so many options.
So, the next time someone like my office accountant makes the assumption that I want to stay at home, maybe I will just tell them that I will be investing in my future leave it at that.
Just this week, the accountant at my office asked me if I was pregnant. Apparently she was out of the office when I made the big announcement in December and had just figured I had been gaining weight over the last few months.
"Congratulations!" She gushed when she saw me. We talked about when I am due (June 27th) and how much she loved it when her kids were born. And then this:
"I suppose when the baby comes, you'll want to be a stay at home Mommy, right?"
I have spent many a sleepless night lying awake feeling my unborn child kick me non-stop and wondering about how the impending birth is going to change my life. First and foremost on my mind is childcare.
I live in Manhattan and work helping low income people fight for livable wages. The problem is that while I feel really good about my career choice, I barely make a livable wage myself. I never really cared about this since Husband, Sister and the rest of my family are generous enough to pay for vacations and the occasional meal, and while I do appreciate having nice things, I can also live without.
And, while there are certain aspects of my current job that I really don't like, I do like working overall. In fact, I love being busy with my work and my volunteer activities and can not imagine giving them up. Do I want to be an attorney forever? Likely not. Are there other career opportunities that I am eager to explore? Most definitely!
So then, Husband and I wrestle with the different ways to handle child care. Mother generously offered to help out a few times a week, but I feel bad having her watch my child just when all of her children are grown. Mother has fabulous vacations planned and keeps a relatively full schedule. She does not need a nanny job.
And what about a professional nanny? Well, the starting salary is somewhere around $600 per week, not including healthcare and overtime. I make just barely more than that and I have wondered about the trade off of working just to pay the nanny.
And then there is day care. At $2000+ a month on average, it is slightly out of our price range and the places we have explored do not allow child to enroll before 8 months of age. So that would be 8 months where I would be out of work and the idea of trying to catch back up and re-hone my skills terrifies me.
Part of me thinks of the cost of child care as an investment in my career. Money I am putting in now to ensure a higher return in the future. And part of me wonders why I am so eager to leave my child and go back to work even before it is born.
But the other day, I met a group
of women who really helped to clarify my thinking on the subject. We had gathered for a roundtable discussion about how the Clinton campaign resonates with working women and, due to my obvious pregnancy, the topic of working motherhood came up. One of the woman who was part of the discussion runs Working Mother Magazine, so clearly she had some insight into the matter.I was open and honest regarding my fears for the future: our lack of affordable childcare options, society’s expectation that I stay home, the fact that Husband’s salary is so much more than mine and thus the one we rely on more. And also I spoke about how I am happiest when I am busy and thrive on participating in things like NYC Shiba Rescue, Haven Coalition and even my job (especially when Evil Partner is on vacation). I don’t know if I would be satisfied with full time motherhood and think I may even begin to feel isolated from my friends.
The women of the group nodded in sympathy. They had all been in my position and all felt like they were fighting an uphill battle against the same forces I felt.
One woman nodded in sympathy when I explained how the nanny would make more than I do (or close to it) and told me, “Going into debt for childcare is an investment in your future. It’s like going into debt for law school. You are paying out money now and expecting a huge return on your future.”
That was a moment of clarity for me. It’s okay to work just to pay the nanny (if that is what I choose) since the personal and career rewards I would reap from that investment would more than pay me back. And, while that may not ultimately be the decision I make, and I certainly would never fault those who made a different decision, it is nice to know that when the time comes, I am not alone.
And really, whether I go back to work right away, take some time off or never go back to the workforce, I am investing in my future. I am doing something that may not be cost effective now because I know the benefits I will have in the future. And I am lucky to have so many options.
So, the next time someone like my office accountant makes the assumption that I want to stay at home, maybe I will just tell them that I will be investing in my future leave it at that.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
LESSONS LEARNED WHILE MOVING
I had meant to write a post about how the other day, I participated in a rountable discussion with working women in NYC in order to discuss how the Clinton campaign resonated with them. Whether or not these woman supported Clinton's campaign for the White House, they also saw gender as a huge factor in the race and felt that Clinton was judged differently from her male counterparts. This post was supposed to be about how these woman, all mothers, made me reevaluate my own priorities and offered insight into working motherhood which changed my plans for the future and made me realize that I was not being true to myself, but rather what I felt society expected of me. That post will have to wait.
Instead, I would like to offer a quick lesson to anyone moving homes who may have a dog: If you decide to consolidate your CD collection and remove all the cases in order to store the CDs in a box to later upload to iTunes, make sure that you don't use the same box where you previously stored dog bones. And, if you do use the same box for CDs as you previously used for dog bones, do not leave it on the floor while you attend a friend's birthday dinner. Nothing good comes from that.
I had meant to write a post about how the other day, I participated in a rountable discussion with working women in NYC in order to discuss how the Clinton campaign resonated with them. Whether or not these woman supported Clinton's campaign for the White House, they also saw gender as a huge factor in the race and felt that Clinton was judged differently from her male counterparts. This post was supposed to be about how these woman, all mothers, made me reevaluate my own priorities and offered insight into working motherhood which changed my plans for the future and made me realize that I was not being true to myself, but rather what I felt society expected of me. That post will have to wait.
Instead, I would like to offer a quick lesson to anyone moving homes who may have a dog: If you decide to consolidate your CD collection and remove all the cases in order to store the CDs in a box to later upload to iTunes, make sure that you don't use the same box where you previously stored dog bones. And, if you do use the same box for CDs as you previously used for dog bones, do not leave it on the floor while you attend a friend's birthday dinner. Nothing good comes from that.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
OH BABY
So, I realized that I almost never blog about the pregnancy. And really, what’s the point? I feel fat and tired, have heartburn and insomnia and generally am no different from any of the other women before me at 21 weeks of pregnancy.
But actually, I am really lucky. I have a great support system of friends and family and two of my good friends are due within a couple weeks of me so my baby will have some ready made playmates. Plus, I am taking pre-natal yoga and made a friend in that class who is due right around the same time. But, despite the changes I have had to make – new clothes, no wine with dinner (well, less wine with dinner), more vitamins and meat cooked beyond raw – the fact that Husband and I are going to be parents has not really hit me.
I could never picture beyond the delivery day, never really pictured a baby or a small child in my life on a permanent basis. And when I did, I actually sort of pictured an arrangement like I have with my dogs – give them love and attention and they reward me with kisses and good behavior. But yesterday, all that changed.
Husband and I took some time yesterday to go to the doctor’s and get the required 20-week ultrasound where they check to make sure things like the fetus has all it’s fingers and toes and that the heart and brain are there. (Yes, I realize I am 21 weeks pregnant but since abortion is legal in NYC until 24 weeks, I knew that if something was wrong, we would still have time to make decisions). Thankfully, nothing appeared wrong. Everything seems to be progressing on schedule and normally. Sure, the fetus has unusually large feet, but so do I so it’s not like that was a surprise.
Going into the ultrasound, Husband and I decided that we did not want to know our future baby’s gender. There are so few surprises in life where either way is good, that we wanted to keep it a surprise from ourselves. Besides, the room was already painted yellow so it’s not like we were re-painting pink or blue. And being that my mother, grandmothers and countless generations of Jewish women before me have imposed their superstitions on me, it’s not like we are really buying anything before the baby is born anyway. But then, in the ultrasound room, the technician asked us if we wanted to know the gender and I looked at Husband who pleaded with me with his eyes to say “yes” and we looked at the picture and knew even before the tech said anything. So, we know that we are having a ______.
Oh, wait. Did I mention that we decided not to tell anyone what the gender is? We had actually decided that well before the ultrasound. We just wanted to keep part of the pregnancy to ourselves. And really, given that my family is mostly girls and Husband’s is mostly boys, we figured the odds were not stacked in any particular way. Plus, I was convinced we are having a boy and Husband was convinced we are having a girl and neither of us cared too much either way, so why make a big deal out of it?
But the thing is, it has become a big deal. My mother is so annoyed that we won’t tell and my father even tried to get it out of me. We are calling Husband’s parents’ tonight to tell them all about the ultrasound results and I am pretty sure they will be equally as unthrilled with our decision to not revel gender.
There is more to my decision though than just wanting to keep this one thing to ourselves for just a few more months (although that is the major reason), the other part is that my poor child will be bombarded by gender stereotypes pretty much from the moment it is born. Toys will be pink or blue, clothes will be the same and I am not sure I want all of that pressure pre-birth. I do not think it will scar a baby boy to wear a pink onesie (so Mara, pass on your hand-me-downs) nor will a little girl be disturbed by being in blue (Cari, that means I want your old stuff as well) and no matter the gender, this child will grow up with an appreciation of sports as well as the ability to whip up dinner and dessert for six without more than 60 minutes notice.
But for me, weirdly, knowing the gender made the fact that I am having a baby seem all too real. I can now picture future events from a specific perspective and the little thing we have affectionately referred to as “Sesame” (since it was the size of a sesame seed at the first appointment) now has an actual person’s name. I can look forward to a bris/baby naming and I can finally see a moment beyond the delivery.
So, I realized that I almost never blog about the pregnancy. And really, what’s the point? I feel fat and tired, have heartburn and insomnia and generally am no different from any of the other women before me at 21 weeks of pregnancy.
But actually, I am really lucky. I have a great support system of friends and family and two of my good friends are due within a couple weeks of me so my baby will have some ready made playmates. Plus, I am taking pre-natal yoga and made a friend in that class who is due right around the same time. But, despite the changes I have had to make – new clothes, no wine with dinner (well, less wine with dinner), more vitamins and meat cooked beyond raw – the fact that Husband and I are going to be parents has not really hit me.
I could never picture beyond the delivery day, never really pictured a baby or a small child in my life on a permanent basis. And when I did, I actually sort of pictured an arrangement like I have with my dogs – give them love and attention and they reward me with kisses and good behavior. But yesterday, all that changed.
Husband and I took some time yesterday to go to the doctor’s and get the required 20-week ultrasound where they check to make sure things like the fetus has all it’s fingers and toes and that the heart and brain are there. (Yes, I realize I am 21 weeks pregnant but since abortion is legal in NYC until 24 weeks, I knew that if something was wrong, we would still have time to make decisions). Thankfully, nothing appeared wrong. Everything seems to be progressing on schedule and normally. Sure, the fetus has unusually large feet, but so do I so it’s not like that was a surprise.
Going into the ultrasound, Husband and I decided that we did not want to know our future baby’s gender. There are so few surprises in life where either way is good, that we wanted to keep it a surprise from ourselves. Besides, the room was already painted yellow so it’s not like we were re-painting pink or blue. And being that my mother, grandmothers and countless generations of Jewish women before me have imposed their superstitions on me, it’s not like we are really buying anything before the baby is born anyway. But then, in the ultrasound room, the technician asked us if we wanted to know the gender and I looked at Husband who pleaded with me with his eyes to say “yes” and we looked at the picture and knew even before the tech said anything. So, we know that we are having a ______.
Oh, wait. Did I mention that we decided not to tell anyone what the gender is? We had actually decided that well before the ultrasound. We just wanted to keep part of the pregnancy to ourselves. And really, given that my family is mostly girls and Husband’s is mostly boys, we figured the odds were not stacked in any particular way. Plus, I was convinced we are having a boy and Husband was convinced we are having a girl and neither of us cared too much either way, so why make a big deal out of it?
But the thing is, it has become a big deal. My mother is so annoyed that we won’t tell and my father even tried to get it out of me. We are calling Husband’s parents’ tonight to tell them all about the ultrasound results and I am pretty sure they will be equally as unthrilled with our decision to not revel gender.
There is more to my decision though than just wanting to keep this one thing to ourselves for just a few more months (although that is the major reason), the other part is that my poor child will be bombarded by gender stereotypes pretty much from the moment it is born. Toys will be pink or blue, clothes will be the same and I am not sure I want all of that pressure pre-birth. I do not think it will scar a baby boy to wear a pink onesie (so Mara, pass on your hand-me-downs) nor will a little girl be disturbed by being in blue (Cari, that means I want your old stuff as well) and no matter the gender, this child will grow up with an appreciation of sports as well as the ability to whip up dinner and dessert for six without more than 60 minutes notice.
But for me, weirdly, knowing the gender made the fact that I am having a baby seem all too real. I can now picture future events from a specific perspective and the little thing we have affectionately referred to as “Sesame” (since it was the size of a sesame seed at the first appointment) now has an actual person’s name. I can look forward to a bris/baby naming and I can finally see a moment beyond the delivery.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
BACK FROM ARGENTINA
Actually, I got back yesterday and pretty much slept the rest of the day. Those overnight flights are brutal for folks like me (read: people who are incapable of sleeping on airplanes without prescription drugs). And while I would normally pop 20mg of Ambien, down it with a glass of wine and wake up 11 hours later, my doctor has frowned on this sort of this since the whole pregnancy thing started.
The trip was unbelievable and Husband and I are already talking about going to Patagonia again. He is super jealous.
And yet, as much as I missed him and the dogs, I am pretty glad to have been gone this week. The weather was terrible in NY (it was 85 and sunny every day in Argentina), Cody escaped and had an afternoon running free though the wilds of Connecticut when Husband went to visit his parents (I played with a puppy on a ranch outside of Buenos Aires who followed me around), and both dogs were sprayed by a skunk (I saw baby penguins and elephant seals).
But to give Husband credit, he did a wonderful job of holding down the fort. The apartment was spotless upon my return, the dogs were bathed, lightening fixtures were purchased for the new apartment and all the shopping for the week had been completed. I was very impressed.
I happily relaxed at home last night, basking in the calm, when, of course, that calm was shattered. Husband and I ran out to buy a new dishwasher for the new apartment and upon our return, we realized that the dogs had unzipped my suitcase and eaten the chocolate and chocolate cookies which I had brought back from Argentina. Yes, unzipped a suitcase, taken the plastic wrapping off of everything and eaten all the food, carefully avoiding any tinfoil and paper. Grrr.
We sniffed the dogs and from the smell, determined that Tiki was the culprit and promptly induced vomiting. Gross. Glad we are moving from the backyard. But then, an hour later, Cody suddenly vomited on the carpet. Apparently Tiki did not act alone.
Since then, both dogs have been sick and acting off. Cody has diarrhea and Tiki was high on chocolate and kept us up all night. And me? I find myself wistfully thinking of heading back on another trip with Mother and Sister for a week….
Actually, I got back yesterday and pretty much slept the rest of the day. Those overnight flights are brutal for folks like me (read: people who are incapable of sleeping on airplanes without prescription drugs). And while I would normally pop 20mg of Ambien, down it with a glass of wine and wake up 11 hours later, my doctor has frowned on this sort of this since the whole pregnancy thing started.
The trip was unbelievable and Husband and I are already talking about going to Patagonia again. He is super jealous.
And yet, as much as I missed him and the dogs, I am pretty glad to have been gone this week. The weather was terrible in NY (it was 85 and sunny every day in Argentina), Cody escaped and had an afternoon running free though the wilds of Connecticut when Husband went to visit his parents (I played with a puppy on a ranch outside of Buenos Aires who followed me around), and both dogs were sprayed by a skunk (I saw baby penguins and elephant seals).
But to give Husband credit, he did a wonderful job of holding down the fort. The apartment was spotless upon my return, the dogs were bathed, lightening fixtures were purchased for the new apartment and all the shopping for the week had been completed. I was very impressed.
I happily relaxed at home last night, basking in the calm, when, of course, that calm was shattered. Husband and I ran out to buy a new dishwasher for the new apartment and upon our return, we realized that the dogs had unzipped my suitcase and eaten the chocolate and chocolate cookies which I had brought back from Argentina. Yes, unzipped a suitcase, taken the plastic wrapping off of everything and eaten all the food, carefully avoiding any tinfoil and paper. Grrr.
We sniffed the dogs and from the smell, determined that Tiki was the culprit and promptly induced vomiting. Gross. Glad we are moving from the backyard. But then, an hour later, Cody suddenly vomited on the carpet. Apparently Tiki did not act alone.
Since then, both dogs have been sick and acting off. Cody has diarrhea and Tiki was high on chocolate and kept us up all night. And me? I find myself wistfully thinking of heading back on another trip with Mother and Sister for a week….
Friday, February 15, 2008
FROM ARGENTINA
So I am sitting in a hotel in Pategonia, waiting for a car which will take me to the airport so I can explore the glacier and thought I would take advantage of how the hotel has seemingly forgotten to charge for internet access in order to write a quick post. Of course, as this is a Spanish keyboard, there are certain to be spelling and punctuation errors (even more than usual!) but you will have to bear with me on that front.
Being in Patagonia is like waking through an episode of Planet Earth. I was inches from Penguins, feet from Sea Elephants (no need to get to close to something that weights almost a ton at birth!), and bobbing in a boat right next to Sea Lions. It is really unbelievable and when I can upload some photos, I will post some.
The interesting thing also is that is is really warm. Somehow, I has it in my head that being so far south it would be cold, but it is beach weather and smarter people than I, meaning those who packed weather appropriate clothing, see to be taking full advantage. And, while I had no idea what to expect, I certainly did not expect desert-like conditions. (I learned on this trip that to be a desert, a region must recieve 5 inches or less of rain, but this area recieved 7 inches annually so it just misses the cutoff. You could have fooled me though - it is hot and dry and dusty!)
Mother, Sister and I have been having a blast on our girls-only vacation and laughing pretty much non-stop. I have even recovered from the flight from NY where I sat next to a 2-year old child who did not just cry for the 11 hour flight, but actually screamed. I debated various tactics from smothering the child to slipping an ambien into her bottle, but both would have required me getting even closer than I already was to the loudest being on the planet. And all this on an overnight flight!
Ooops, so much to tell but the car is here and waiting. I am off to the next destination before heading home and will post more (and more coherently) when I am back.
And to Husband - on the off chance you are reading this - I miss you so much and can´t wait to see you. Thanks for looking after the dogs. You are a trooper for everything you handled this week.
So I am sitting in a hotel in Pategonia, waiting for a car which will take me to the airport so I can explore the glacier and thought I would take advantage of how the hotel has seemingly forgotten to charge for internet access in order to write a quick post. Of course, as this is a Spanish keyboard, there are certain to be spelling and punctuation errors (even more than usual!) but you will have to bear with me on that front.
Being in Patagonia is like waking through an episode of Planet Earth. I was inches from Penguins, feet from Sea Elephants (no need to get to close to something that weights almost a ton at birth!), and bobbing in a boat right next to Sea Lions. It is really unbelievable and when I can upload some photos, I will post some.
The interesting thing also is that is is really warm. Somehow, I has it in my head that being so far south it would be cold, but it is beach weather and smarter people than I, meaning those who packed weather appropriate clothing, see to be taking full advantage. And, while I had no idea what to expect, I certainly did not expect desert-like conditions. (I learned on this trip that to be a desert, a region must recieve 5 inches or less of rain, but this area recieved 7 inches annually so it just misses the cutoff. You could have fooled me though - it is hot and dry and dusty!)
Mother, Sister and I have been having a blast on our girls-only vacation and laughing pretty much non-stop. I have even recovered from the flight from NY where I sat next to a 2-year old child who did not just cry for the 11 hour flight, but actually screamed. I debated various tactics from smothering the child to slipping an ambien into her bottle, but both would have required me getting even closer than I already was to the loudest being on the planet. And all this on an overnight flight!
Ooops, so much to tell but the car is here and waiting. I am off to the next destination before heading home and will post more (and more coherently) when I am back.
And to Husband - on the off chance you are reading this - I miss you so much and can´t wait to see you. Thanks for looking after the dogs. You are a trooper for everything you handled this week.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
AT LEAST *I* AM TIRED
There are some people whose opinions I respect as gospel and follow blindly. One of these people is JG. She is my doggie –guru and the person to whom I bring my dog-related issues. Plus, in addition to starting NYC Shiba Rescue and knowing pretty much everything there is to know about Shiba Inus, she is a good person and always willing to share knowledge and a laugh.
So, when I complained to her that Tiki and Cody (aka Double Trouble) were destroying my home when I was gone, she reminded me of an important theory in dog training: Better behavior through exhaustion. If the dogs were tired from playing, they would not have the energy to destroy my home. This was perfect. I did not want to crate them during the day because Cody cries all day if crated and annoys my neighbors when we do that, but I also was not entirely sure which dog was the culprit. I suspect Tiki ate my shoes and earmuffs, but I blame Cody for eating all the English muffins off the counter top.
Husband and I started getting up 30 minutes early on days when the dogs were not in day care and bringing them to the dog run so they can play off leash for a while and get good and tired before we leave for work. This in itself can be a tricky process because there are some dogs that Tiki just does not like, and if they are in the run when we get there, I do not feel comfortable going inside (actually, I am about as fond of the owner as Tiki is of the dog so I am happy to avoid contact). But 99% of the time, we get there first and then the mean dog/owner even come so it works out fine. Husband tosses a ball for Tiki while Cody attempts to climb trees to get at the squirrels playing overhead. Thirty minutes later, we head home and the dogs pretty much sleep the rest of the day. I think all four of us really enjoy the outing.
So today, in an attempt to make my 9am conference call, we got up even earlier than normal and headed to the run. As we rounded the corner, I noticed it was empty.
“Wow,” I commented to Husband, “We even beat the guy with the cigarette and loud dog.”
We agreed that we were thrilled to be the only ones since we could run and throw balls without worrying about the reactions of other dogs and jogged up to the gates. Locked. No wonder the run was empty. Tiki pawed at the gate and Cody looked at me sadly.
“We could lift them up and jump the fence,” Husband suggested.
I thought about it, but what if the gate was locked because there was a dangerous condition at the run, like rat poison or something. So we decided to do for a long walk instead. We started walking around the Museum of Natural History. Tiki, out of boredom or whatever, started to jump over the 12 inch iron borders that surround the trees and I developed an idea.
We ran full speed down 77th Street as close to the trees as possible.
“Jump!” I would yell just before each little fence. We pretended it was an agility class and were having a blast until Tiki ran on the wrong side of the tree and forced me to stop short, skidding in the leaves on my knees, a bag of dog poop in my hand. Husband helped me up, made sure I was okay (and clean!), and I continued along my way, running (slightly slower) and having Tiki jump.
When the trees stopped having the borders, Husband took both dogs and ran full speed down the rest of the block and then turned and came back to me. When the dogs reach me, they jumped on me and gave kisses to my face. Then, we walked home (and got there about 30 minutes later, or just about the time we would have had the run not been locked) and both doggies passed out on the couch while Husband and I got ready for work.
So, hopefully the doggies were tired enough to sleep today after our walk. I know I am…
There are some people whose opinions I respect as gospel and follow blindly. One of these people is JG. She is my doggie –guru and the person to whom I bring my dog-related issues. Plus, in addition to starting NYC Shiba Rescue and knowing pretty much everything there is to know about Shiba Inus, she is a good person and always willing to share knowledge and a laugh.
So, when I complained to her that Tiki and Cody (aka Double Trouble) were destroying my home when I was gone, she reminded me of an important theory in dog training: Better behavior through exhaustion. If the dogs were tired from playing, they would not have the energy to destroy my home. This was perfect. I did not want to crate them during the day because Cody cries all day if crated and annoys my neighbors when we do that, but I also was not entirely sure which dog was the culprit. I suspect Tiki ate my shoes and earmuffs, but I blame Cody for eating all the English muffins off the counter top.
Husband and I started getting up 30 minutes early on days when the dogs were not in day care and bringing them to the dog run so they can play off leash for a while and get good and tired before we leave for work. This in itself can be a tricky process because there are some dogs that Tiki just does not like, and if they are in the run when we get there, I do not feel comfortable going inside (actually, I am about as fond of the owner as Tiki is of the dog so I am happy to avoid contact). But 99% of the time, we get there first and then the mean dog/owner even come so it works out fine. Husband tosses a ball for Tiki while Cody attempts to climb trees to get at the squirrels playing overhead. Thirty minutes later, we head home and the dogs pretty much sleep the rest of the day. I think all four of us really enjoy the outing.
So today, in an attempt to make my 9am conference call, we got up even earlier than normal and headed to the run. As we rounded the corner, I noticed it was empty.
“Wow,” I commented to Husband, “We even beat the guy with the cigarette and loud dog.”
We agreed that we were thrilled to be the only ones since we could run and throw balls without worrying about the reactions of other dogs and jogged up to the gates. Locked. No wonder the run was empty. Tiki pawed at the gate and Cody looked at me sadly.
“We could lift them up and jump the fence,” Husband suggested.
I thought about it, but what if the gate was locked because there was a dangerous condition at the run, like rat poison or something. So we decided to do for a long walk instead. We started walking around the Museum of Natural History. Tiki, out of boredom or whatever, started to jump over the 12 inch iron borders that surround the trees and I developed an idea.
We ran full speed down 77th Street as close to the trees as possible.
“Jump!” I would yell just before each little fence. We pretended it was an agility class and were having a blast until Tiki ran on the wrong side of the tree and forced me to stop short, skidding in the leaves on my knees, a bag of dog poop in my hand. Husband helped me up, made sure I was okay (and clean!), and I continued along my way, running (slightly slower) and having Tiki jump.
When the trees stopped having the borders, Husband took both dogs and ran full speed down the rest of the block and then turned and came back to me. When the dogs reach me, they jumped on me and gave kisses to my face. Then, we walked home (and got there about 30 minutes later, or just about the time we would have had the run not been locked) and both doggies passed out on the couch while Husband and I got ready for work.
So, hopefully the doggies were tired enough to sleep today after our walk. I know I am…
Monday, January 28, 2008
WOW. LIFE IS GOOD.
One of my very first ever posts was about SWCNBN’s wedding and how one of my most constant wishes was that my cousin M could marry L, despite the fact that both are men. Saturday night, I got to be part of that celebration. The entire family was there and we all celebrated, danced, laughed and had a fantastic time – really, how can you not love an event with a chocolate fountain???. It was an amazing celebration and the sheer joy of everyone inspired me to come out of vacation and start blogging again. Somehow, it seems as though the blog has come full circle or something.,,,
These last few weeks have seen a transformation in me as well. My energy has returned and my appetite is back with a vengeance. (Luckily for my waist-line, I am craving berries and bananas and not chocolate and pasta) Plus, I started pre-natal yoga, made a new friend in the class and actually got a client for my dog training business. A regular, steady client who is going to pay me. Sure, it’s only one client, but that’s how things start… Nine more to go and I will make more than I make as an attorney.
The apartment renovations have started as well and seem to be moving at a nice clip – we are going shopping with the contractor next weekend and already picked out paint colors for the entire place. Move-in date is Feb. 29th and except for the fact that our bathroom won’t be finished due to permit complications with the City, everything else should be done.
Plus, I’ve gotten zen about Evil partner. I am going on maternity leave in less than 5 months. I expect that Evil Partner will ask the firm to hire someone to replace me when I am gone and when I am ready to return, they will not want me back. I will then get a sweet severance package and either go back to my old job (which I loved on many levels) in a better position or really concentrate on my dog training business. Or maybe do a mix of both. The thing is, I hate sitting still and get energy from juggling a million balls in the air. I think that in some perverse way, having a newborn will add to this.
But, the most immediately exciting news is that I am heading on vacation for a week with some girls. And, my doctor is going to write a note that, due to my pregnancy, I need a bulkhead seat in order to avoid leg clots. Free trip, free upgrade and cool company: I could not be more excited.
And, maybe it’s the pregnancy or the impending trip or M&L’s wedding, but I feel like things are really falling into place. But either way, it certainly helps that Evil Partner is on vacation for the next week and, for the next few days, even work will be pleasant….
One of my very first ever posts was about SWCNBN’s wedding and how one of my most constant wishes was that my cousin M could marry L, despite the fact that both are men. Saturday night, I got to be part of that celebration. The entire family was there and we all celebrated, danced, laughed and had a fantastic time – really, how can you not love an event with a chocolate fountain???. It was an amazing celebration and the sheer joy of everyone inspired me to come out of vacation and start blogging again. Somehow, it seems as though the blog has come full circle or something.,,,
These last few weeks have seen a transformation in me as well. My energy has returned and my appetite is back with a vengeance. (Luckily for my waist-line, I am craving berries and bananas and not chocolate and pasta) Plus, I started pre-natal yoga, made a new friend in the class and actually got a client for my dog training business. A regular, steady client who is going to pay me. Sure, it’s only one client, but that’s how things start… Nine more to go and I will make more than I make as an attorney.
The apartment renovations have started as well and seem to be moving at a nice clip – we are going shopping with the contractor next weekend and already picked out paint colors for the entire place. Move-in date is Feb. 29th and except for the fact that our bathroom won’t be finished due to permit complications with the City, everything else should be done.
Plus, I’ve gotten zen about Evil partner. I am going on maternity leave in less than 5 months. I expect that Evil Partner will ask the firm to hire someone to replace me when I am gone and when I am ready to return, they will not want me back. I will then get a sweet severance package and either go back to my old job (which I loved on many levels) in a better position or really concentrate on my dog training business. Or maybe do a mix of both. The thing is, I hate sitting still and get energy from juggling a million balls in the air. I think that in some perverse way, having a newborn will add to this.
But, the most immediately exciting news is that I am heading on vacation for a week with some girls. And, my doctor is going to write a note that, due to my pregnancy, I need a bulkhead seat in order to avoid leg clots. Free trip, free upgrade and cool company: I could not be more excited.
And, maybe it’s the pregnancy or the impending trip or M&L’s wedding, but I feel like things are really falling into place. But either way, it certainly helps that Evil Partner is on vacation for the next week and, for the next few days, even work will be pleasant….
Friday, January 11, 2008
ON A BLOGGING VACATION
Wow, it’s been a little while since I have had time to sit down and write. Between Evil Partner and his ridiculous assignments, dealing with trying to get renovations started on the new apartment, launching the very beginnings of a dog training business and just being plain old exhausted from the pregnancy, blogging has fallen off the priority list.
I am actually too busy to really write more right now, except for this assurance that as soon as my energy returns, so will my blogging.
Wow, it’s been a little while since I have had time to sit down and write. Between Evil Partner and his ridiculous assignments, dealing with trying to get renovations started on the new apartment, launching the very beginnings of a dog training business and just being plain old exhausted from the pregnancy, blogging has fallen off the priority list.
I am actually too busy to really write more right now, except for this assurance that as soon as my energy returns, so will my blogging.
Monday, December 31, 2007
YEAR OF ALDULTHOOD
Sometimes you can feel that a certain year will be different than the last. I am pretty confident that 2008 will be one of those years. Photogenic Wife mentioned to me on Saturday night that in the Chinese Calendar, we are coming upon the Year of the Rat. In the Farf Calendar, I am entering the Year of Adulthood.
Sure, people will argue that at 32, I have been an adult for some time. After all, I am married, have a career and, at least in theory, am responsible for my own life (as well as the lives of two doggies). But I never really felt like a grown-up before. I still sleep with my blankie (named Bubbe – although I have no clue why) and a teddy bear (named Buddy Bear), I sing childhood songs like “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” and “I have 6 pence” when I am in the shower, and my favorite television shows run along the lines of SpongeBob SquarePants.
This coming year is forcing me to realize that despite some childish behavior, I am solidly in the adult-world. First of all, I am now a homeowner. And, while it is a co-op, I still need to deal with things that a year ago seemed ridiculously beyond my ability: I hired a contractor, budgeted for a mortgage and renovations, and worried about how to cover rent and mortgage while waiting for renovations to be completed.
Then, there is my job situation. Evil Partner and I continue to do battle, but there is not much longer I can deal with his lies and every time I prove he lied about something, I lose a little more of my desire to work someplace where my boss and I hate each other. So I am thinking about changing jobs, but its not so easy this time. Unlike before, I need to make a certain amount of money (see above paragraph) and I would really like to work with good people in an interesting field. Sigh. See, adult issues…
And then finally, there is the news my mother was unable to keep to herself and this blabbed a day early – Husband and I are having a baby in late June/early July of 2008. Wow, if the job situation and new apartment did not make me an adult, this definitely does. Luckily, our apartment has two bedrooms so we have not outgrown an apartment before even moving in, but this whole baby thing necessarily means major life changes – and not just being tied to home. Husband and I are responsible for another person. It’s not like with the dogs where if we are home an hour late, the worst that happens is they pee on the floor. Nope, we are accountable to someone who will be totally helpless and dependent on us (for a little while at least) and who can (eventually) call us out on our flaws and imperfections.
So, here I am about to enter 2008 and become, in all senses of the word, an adult. But hopefully I can do so without leaving some of my favorite childish behaviors aside. Sorry Husband but Bubbe and Buddy Bear stay around even when my job-hopping days are over.
Sometimes you can feel that a certain year will be different than the last. I am pretty confident that 2008 will be one of those years. Photogenic Wife mentioned to me on Saturday night that in the Chinese Calendar, we are coming upon the Year of the Rat. In the Farf Calendar, I am entering the Year of Adulthood.
Sure, people will argue that at 32, I have been an adult for some time. After all, I am married, have a career and, at least in theory, am responsible for my own life (as well as the lives of two doggies). But I never really felt like a grown-up before. I still sleep with my blankie (named Bubbe – although I have no clue why) and a teddy bear (named Buddy Bear), I sing childhood songs like “Itsy-Bitsy Spider” and “I have 6 pence” when I am in the shower, and my favorite television shows run along the lines of SpongeBob SquarePants.
This coming year is forcing me to realize that despite some childish behavior, I am solidly in the adult-world. First of all, I am now a homeowner. And, while it is a co-op, I still need to deal with things that a year ago seemed ridiculously beyond my ability: I hired a contractor, budgeted for a mortgage and renovations, and worried about how to cover rent and mortgage while waiting for renovations to be completed.
Then, there is my job situation. Evil Partner and I continue to do battle, but there is not much longer I can deal with his lies and every time I prove he lied about something, I lose a little more of my desire to work someplace where my boss and I hate each other. So I am thinking about changing jobs, but its not so easy this time. Unlike before, I need to make a certain amount of money (see above paragraph) and I would really like to work with good people in an interesting field. Sigh. See, adult issues…
And then finally, there is the news my mother was unable to keep to herself and this blabbed a day early – Husband and I are having a baby in late June/early July of 2008. Wow, if the job situation and new apartment did not make me an adult, this definitely does. Luckily, our apartment has two bedrooms so we have not outgrown an apartment before even moving in, but this whole baby thing necessarily means major life changes – and not just being tied to home. Husband and I are responsible for another person. It’s not like with the dogs where if we are home an hour late, the worst that happens is they pee on the floor. Nope, we are accountable to someone who will be totally helpless and dependent on us (for a little while at least) and who can (eventually) call us out on our flaws and imperfections.
So, here I am about to enter 2008 and become, in all senses of the word, an adult. But hopefully I can do so without leaving some of my favorite childish behaviors aside. Sorry Husband but Bubbe and Buddy Bear stay around even when my job-hopping days are over.
Monday, December 24, 2007
CODY'S BIRTHDAY ADVENTURE
Some of you have met Cody and readers of this blog know him as the dog that Husband and I adopted from NYC Shiba Rescue as a brother for Tiki the Wonder Dog. Cody’s middle name is Houdini, since he has the uncanny ability to escape from any situation. He can flatten his body and if his head can fit through something, the rest of his body easily follows. Knowing this, we are very careful about the situations to which Cody is exposed. For example, while both Tiki and Cody can jump a 5 foot fence in a single bound, Tiki respects barriers in a way that Cody does not. So, as a result, the dogs rarely go to the dog run anymore – its just too stressful wondering if you will have to chase Cody through Manhattan.
This weekend though, we took both dogs to the Catskills to visit Husband’s aunt. The plan was to spend the weekend walking the dogs through the snow covered mountains and getting some exercise and relaxation. Unfortunately, both Husband and I came down with colds and spent most of the weekend napping.
We were taking just such a nap on Saturday afternoon (Cody’s second birthday) and both dogs were happily napping on the bed with us. The door to the bedroom was cracked open so that the warmth from downstairs permeated the room and all four of us were completely content. A perfect birthday snooze.
Suddenly, we were awoken by a yell that the dogs got out of the house. We were up and dressed in a flash and outside calling the dogs. These are city dogs that are never off leash and have pretty poor recall. Plus, the snow had a thin coating of ice so that the 30-pound dogs could easily walk on it, but as adult humans weighting slightly more than 30 pounds, we fell through into knee deep snow. There was no way to chance them through the woods on foot so Husband got in the car and followed along the roads while I waited in the hopes that the dogs would circle back. The only saving grace was that while neighbors are few and far between, so are cars so we were not concerned about a dog getting on the road – in fact, we would have preferred it.
A bark. A call from Husband and Tiki was in the car. While the word “come” does not entice Tiki at all, the call of “Do you want some Cheese?” Had both dogs running to Husband. Cody wriggled away but Tiki was caught and locked in the car. Cody came circling back. I tried every dog trainer trick I know. I did an Emergency Stop. No luck. I tried running away from Cody in the hopes he would chase me. Nope. I also tried falling (well, it was slippery so I didn’t really have to try that hard) in the hopes that Cody would come to investigate. Nothing.
Husband jumped out of the car and chased Cody on foot. Cody darted in and out of bushes, wagging his tail and enjoying his game. Husband fell into the snow in defeat. I was crying. Husband was swearing. We were devastated. For a brief moment, I envisioned life back with just Tiki. With no doggie that would spoon me while I was napping on the couch, not being awoken by kisses at exactly 7am daily and walks without having to be ever-vigilant about potential food sources that a dog would try and eat (that includes hot dogs out of the hands of children who pass too close) – life suddenly seemed bleak. Unacceptable.
Then, miraculously, a neighbor came out and asked if we had lost a child. I explained we had lost a dog and, hoping that the neighbor would have dog treats, I asked if he had a dog.
“No,” said Neighbor. “I have a cat.”
“Cat?” I suddenly got excited. “Do you have a fish-based cat food?” Cody loves fish and I was hoping this would lure him to us.
Neighbor disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a Tupperware container of dry cat food.
“Cody,” I called sweetly. “Do you want some din-din?” I shook the food as extra enticement. Suddenly, Cody ran over, eager for the treats in the bowl. I slipped the leash on his and hugged him. Cody looked at me like I was insane. After all, he had just had the best birthday fun imaginable. And, having my dog safe, well that answered every thing I would have wished Cody on his birthday anyway.
We got the dogs back, gave them extra treats and rawhide bones and refused to let them out of our sight the rest of the day. Cody may have had the best 2nd birthday he could imagine, but in doing so, he took at least 2 years off my life.
Monday, December 17, 2007
THE COST OF FRIENDSHIP
Sorry for the delay in posting but it’s been a crazy week: We are closing on Wednesday and I was sick for two days. Blah.
Last week Mara, Justin and their adorable baby Adena came from London and stayed with me and Husband for a week. We had been looking forward to their visit for a long time and were bummed that on the day they arrived at our place, we had a dinner with Father’s law firm to attend and could not be home. No big deal though as we left a spare key with Suzanne and then left the party early in order to run home and spend more time with our friends from across the pond.
When we got home there were hugs and kisses all around (as well as a peek into the spare bedroom to gaze adoringly at the sleeping baby) and we settled in the catch up.
“Umm, we are buying you a new television,” Mara started. For a brief second, I was totally offended. Our main television is less than a year old (46” LCD flat screen) and the thing Husband would save first in case of fire – even before me and the dogs – on the theory that everything else important to him has legs and can potentially save itself. The television in the guest room will likely not move with us and is perfectly adequate for its purposes.
“We broke the TV,” Mara continued.
“Oh,” replied Husband. “No, the buttons on the remote are totally confusing but I can fix it.”
“No, it’s really broken.” Justin insisted. “Mara tossed me a sippy cup and it hit the television and now it’s broken.” (By the way, he said this is in a most adorable Kiwi accent. I can seriously listen to him talk all day.)
We turned on the television, mostly because we could not believe that a plastic sippy cup could break a TV, but sure enough there was no picture and a spider-shaped crack was visible in the bottom center of the screen.
“Whatever,” Husband said. “If it can’t be repaired we will figure something out. Don’t worry.”
Mara was shocked. She offered to leave and go somewhere else. Why would we kick her out? And no way we were letting Adena leave – she is so cute and happy that the only thing keeping us from kidnapping her was the potential jail time. So the TV broke. Big deal. It’s replaceable. (And for the record, the new television arrived in less than a week. Thank you Mara and Justin!) We felt awful. They were staying with us to save money and now they have to buy a television. Really, there were contests over which party felt worse about the whole thing, but within a few minutes, it was also something to joke about.
“We’re leaving for work – there is a list of things we need broken on the coffee table!” Hahaha. I am still cracking up over that one.
But the thing is, never for one second would such a wonderful friendship have ended over something like a television set. In fact, I thought it would end over earrings.
See, Mara lent me the pearl earrings she wore on her wedding day for me to wear on mine. I did not wear them, but instead put them away for safekeeping. Then, I forgot about them. I attempted to return them when I was in London, but returned the wrong earrings. So, I attempted to give Mara a different pair when she was in town, but those were also the wrong ones. (No worries Mara, I have 5 more pairs and one is bound to be yours!) By all rights, she should hate me. But she doesn’t.
Because in the end, real friends deal with the stuff life throws at you and televisions and earrings are not as important as people you can call when you are having a 2am anxiety attack over something stupid.
I have another friend who does not seem to understand this concept. I am not sure where we went wrong, but we used to be incredibly close. But for a month now, she has made a point of avoiding me. So today, despite many promised to myself, I reached out via email. I received back the following: “I am taking space....It has been too many excuses and too many hurt comments”
I have no idea what excuses/comments she is talking about. But that is the kind of person she is. She gives people the silent treatment when she is mad so the simple things escalate until they become unbearable to her. That is sad. A small hurt, such as a broken television or misplaced earring is not a friendship ender and real friends are able to see past the little things to the big picture. I will miss her, but I have been mourning her silence for the last month and can’t continue to do so. I will not contact her again. Instead, I will continue to live as I have and, as I do with all my friends, welcome her back when she is ready.
In the meantime, it’s nice to know who I can count on when I need a 2am friend or that ugly poster (adored by Husband) in our spare room broken.
Sorry for the delay in posting but it’s been a crazy week: We are closing on Wednesday and I was sick for two days. Blah.
Last week Mara, Justin and their adorable baby Adena came from London and stayed with me and Husband for a week. We had been looking forward to their visit for a long time and were bummed that on the day they arrived at our place, we had a dinner with Father’s law firm to attend and could not be home. No big deal though as we left a spare key with Suzanne and then left the party early in order to run home and spend more time with our friends from across the pond.
When we got home there were hugs and kisses all around (as well as a peek into the spare bedroom to gaze adoringly at the sleeping baby) and we settled in the catch up.
“Umm, we are buying you a new television,” Mara started. For a brief second, I was totally offended. Our main television is less than a year old (46” LCD flat screen) and the thing Husband would save first in case of fire – even before me and the dogs – on the theory that everything else important to him has legs and can potentially save itself. The television in the guest room will likely not move with us and is perfectly adequate for its purposes.
“We broke the TV,” Mara continued.
“Oh,” replied Husband. “No, the buttons on the remote are totally confusing but I can fix it.”
“No, it’s really broken.” Justin insisted. “Mara tossed me a sippy cup and it hit the television and now it’s broken.” (By the way, he said this is in a most adorable Kiwi accent. I can seriously listen to him talk all day.)
We turned on the television, mostly because we could not believe that a plastic sippy cup could break a TV, but sure enough there was no picture and a spider-shaped crack was visible in the bottom center of the screen.
“Whatever,” Husband said. “If it can’t be repaired we will figure something out. Don’t worry.”
Mara was shocked. She offered to leave and go somewhere else. Why would we kick her out? And no way we were letting Adena leave – she is so cute and happy that the only thing keeping us from kidnapping her was the potential jail time. So the TV broke. Big deal. It’s replaceable. (And for the record, the new television arrived in less than a week. Thank you Mara and Justin!) We felt awful. They were staying with us to save money and now they have to buy a television. Really, there were contests over which party felt worse about the whole thing, but within a few minutes, it was also something to joke about.
“We’re leaving for work – there is a list of things we need broken on the coffee table!” Hahaha. I am still cracking up over that one.
But the thing is, never for one second would such a wonderful friendship have ended over something like a television set. In fact, I thought it would end over earrings.
See, Mara lent me the pearl earrings she wore on her wedding day for me to wear on mine. I did not wear them, but instead put them away for safekeeping. Then, I forgot about them. I attempted to return them when I was in London, but returned the wrong earrings. So, I attempted to give Mara a different pair when she was in town, but those were also the wrong ones. (No worries Mara, I have 5 more pairs and one is bound to be yours!) By all rights, she should hate me. But she doesn’t.
Because in the end, real friends deal with the stuff life throws at you and televisions and earrings are not as important as people you can call when you are having a 2am anxiety attack over something stupid.
I have another friend who does not seem to understand this concept. I am not sure where we went wrong, but we used to be incredibly close. But for a month now, she has made a point of avoiding me. So today, despite many promised to myself, I reached out via email. I received back the following: “I am taking space....It has been too many excuses and too many hurt comments”
I have no idea what excuses/comments she is talking about. But that is the kind of person she is. She gives people the silent treatment when she is mad so the simple things escalate until they become unbearable to her. That is sad. A small hurt, such as a broken television or misplaced earring is not a friendship ender and real friends are able to see past the little things to the big picture. I will miss her, but I have been mourning her silence for the last month and can’t continue to do so. I will not contact her again. Instead, I will continue to live as I have and, as I do with all my friends, welcome her back when she is ready.
In the meantime, it’s nice to know who I can count on when I need a 2am friend or that ugly poster (adored by Husband) in our spare room broken.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
MID-WINTER AND MID-WEEK BLAH
Thusday was Husband’s birthday. We headed up to Boston for a long weekend so his birthday dinner ended up being at the Chili’s in Hamden. I know. He can thank me for the gourmet meal later. Actually though, the whole weekend in Boston (second annual) is a birthday celebration for Husband, topped off with a Patriots game on Sunday before heading home. Really fun weekend and like last year, Photogenic Friends were there for the whole thing.
When we got up on Friday, we really meant to sightsee around Boston. All of us have a strong interest in American history and I wanted to see the site of the Boston Tea Party and Photogenic Wife wanted to see Paul Revere’s house. Instead, as we walked from the hotel to the harbor, we all got chilly and decided to duck into a store near Quincy Market. Then we went into another store. Before I knew it, we had done the entire length of Newbury Street and the idea of sightseeing was never again mentioned. But on the bright side, anything under $175 was tax free, so that is one more reason to love my new shoes, sweater, bra (seriously the most comfortable one I have ever owned), underwear, and sunglasses. Plus, Photogenic Wife made us spa appointments for Sunday morning so it was an all around awesome time.
But then, reality set in and on Monday we were all back at work. Maybe it’s the time of year, maybe it’s the fact that the sellers are being really annoying about setting a closing date*, or maybe its because I have literally never been so tired in my life, but I really don’t feel like working. I seriously want nothing more than to lay on my couch and watch the week’s worth of television saved on the DVR. Oh, and maybe nap.
And the thing is, I have a major project right now at the office and I can’t motivate to even start it. Or think about it. Really pathetic, I know. So, in an effort at procrastination, I have come up with every other possible thing I can do. I dealt with a pet insurance bill (Sorry Husband, the charge is not covered), called back a contractor, made a doctor’s appointment and various other things. So it’s not like the day is a total waste.
And there is my phone ringing and my boss on speaker asking me the status of this project, so off I go to work on it. Can’t wait for 8pm when I can head home…
* While writing this post, the seller’s offered December 19th as a closing date so keep your fingers crossed!
Thusday was Husband’s birthday. We headed up to Boston for a long weekend so his birthday dinner ended up being at the Chili’s in Hamden. I know. He can thank me for the gourmet meal later. Actually though, the whole weekend in Boston (second annual) is a birthday celebration for Husband, topped off with a Patriots game on Sunday before heading home. Really fun weekend and like last year, Photogenic Friends were there for the whole thing.
When we got up on Friday, we really meant to sightsee around Boston. All of us have a strong interest in American history and I wanted to see the site of the Boston Tea Party and Photogenic Wife wanted to see Paul Revere’s house. Instead, as we walked from the hotel to the harbor, we all got chilly and decided to duck into a store near Quincy Market. Then we went into another store. Before I knew it, we had done the entire length of Newbury Street and the idea of sightseeing was never again mentioned. But on the bright side, anything under $175 was tax free, so that is one more reason to love my new shoes, sweater, bra (seriously the most comfortable one I have ever owned), underwear, and sunglasses. Plus, Photogenic Wife made us spa appointments for Sunday morning so it was an all around awesome time.
But then, reality set in and on Monday we were all back at work. Maybe it’s the time of year, maybe it’s the fact that the sellers are being really annoying about setting a closing date*, or maybe its because I have literally never been so tired in my life, but I really don’t feel like working. I seriously want nothing more than to lay on my couch and watch the week’s worth of television saved on the DVR. Oh, and maybe nap.
And the thing is, I have a major project right now at the office and I can’t motivate to even start it. Or think about it. Really pathetic, I know. So, in an effort at procrastination, I have come up with every other possible thing I can do. I dealt with a pet insurance bill (Sorry Husband, the charge is not covered), called back a contractor, made a doctor’s appointment and various other things. So it’s not like the day is a total waste.
And there is my phone ringing and my boss on speaker asking me the status of this project, so off I go to work on it. Can’t wait for 8pm when I can head home…
* While writing this post, the seller’s offered December 19th as a closing date so keep your fingers crossed!
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
CLOSING
December is going to be an exciting month this year. Hanukkah starts tonight and Husband’s birthday is Thursday. We are heading to Boston for the weekend to see the Patriots play the Steelers on Sunday and spend some quality time with Boston-based cousin, two of whom will be celebrating birthdays while we are there. It is also Cody (the dog’s) first birthday as a member of our family. But, all of that aside, it is also the month where we will finally close on our new apartment. Yup, after months of sweat (its hot going from open house to open house in the summer), tears (you try getting your credit record cleaned of your sister’s spending habits) and blood (well, there were several blisters from walking to all those apartments and one bled) we will finally be the proud owners of shares in a corporation, which will allow us to reside in a building near Riverside Park. Yippeee!
Yes, you read that right. The long-awaited closing is expected to be in the next couple weeks. Then we can get the contractor in and the fun begins! I am so excited…
December is going to be an exciting month this year. Hanukkah starts tonight and Husband’s birthday is Thursday. We are heading to Boston for the weekend to see the Patriots play the Steelers on Sunday and spend some quality time with Boston-based cousin, two of whom will be celebrating birthdays while we are there. It is also Cody (the dog’s) first birthday as a member of our family. But, all of that aside, it is also the month where we will finally close on our new apartment. Yup, after months of sweat (its hot going from open house to open house in the summer), tears (you try getting your credit record cleaned of your sister’s spending habits) and blood (well, there were several blisters from walking to all those apartments and one bled) we will finally be the proud owners of shares in a corporation, which will allow us to reside in a building near Riverside Park. Yippeee!
Yes, you read that right. The long-awaited closing is expected to be in the next couple weeks. Then we can get the contractor in and the fun begins! I am so excited…
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
SOMETIMES, THE FIRST TIME IS JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER TIME
I have recently been doing much self-censoring on this site. Part of it is that I have been tempted to write things that, while they may be true right now, are certainly not true over all and some things can’t be taken back. Part of it is also that I have suddenly developed a new-found sense of privacy and, as such, my posts have suffered in that they are less of me and more generic.
And all this is why I read Suzanne’s post about collecting stories about a woman’s first period with such amusement. There is nothing generic about first period stories and so many women have great stories to tell about, if not their first period, at least a pretty eventful menstruation experience. Well, so many women - except for me.
Sure, I read “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret” just like most other pre-teen girls of my generation and I was a little jealous when all my friends got their periods first. But, not too jealous since it seemed more of an inconvenience than anything else. For example, there was Sarah from camp who was being raised by a single father. She got her period at camp and wrote to her dad asking for a box of pads. Within a week, a care package arrived filled with 20 legal size note-pads. Then there was Lea who got her first period while on vacation with my family and refused to use to pool in Las Vegas since she did not know how to use a tampon.
Maybe for me, because I did not get my period until my mid-teens, it was a non-event. In fact, the only reason I remember it at all was because I expected more fanfare and was disappointed. After all, Sister had already had her period for years and it’s not like I did not have tons of aunts and female cousins. So, when I looked in my underwear and saw blood, I did not panic, I simply went into the bathroom, read the instructions about how to insert a tampon and rejoined the party that was going on in my parent’s backyard. My mother’s response to being told was simply, “Ok, just remembers to change your tampons regularly.” That was it. No fanfare and no great story.
In fact, it was the same annoyance for me it seemed to be for other friends. Every month, around my period, I would develop debilitating stomach pains, which lasted until a doctor put me on birth control pills. I hated having to run to the bathroom to change tampons, even when I did not need to pee and having my period never made me feel “more like a woman” than before.
So, I am curious to see the stories that Suzanne collects, but I am also curious to know if my experience is the norm or if it is more common for a woman’s first period to be some life-changing event. I would be happy to hear other’s thoughts on the subject.
I have recently been doing much self-censoring on this site. Part of it is that I have been tempted to write things that, while they may be true right now, are certainly not true over all and some things can’t be taken back. Part of it is also that I have suddenly developed a new-found sense of privacy and, as such, my posts have suffered in that they are less of me and more generic.
And all this is why I read Suzanne’s post about collecting stories about a woman’s first period with such amusement. There is nothing generic about first period stories and so many women have great stories to tell about, if not their first period, at least a pretty eventful menstruation experience. Well, so many women - except for me.
Sure, I read “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret” just like most other pre-teen girls of my generation and I was a little jealous when all my friends got their periods first. But, not too jealous since it seemed more of an inconvenience than anything else. For example, there was Sarah from camp who was being raised by a single father. She got her period at camp and wrote to her dad asking for a box of pads. Within a week, a care package arrived filled with 20 legal size note-pads. Then there was Lea who got her first period while on vacation with my family and refused to use to pool in Las Vegas since she did not know how to use a tampon.
Maybe for me, because I did not get my period until my mid-teens, it was a non-event. In fact, the only reason I remember it at all was because I expected more fanfare and was disappointed. After all, Sister had already had her period for years and it’s not like I did not have tons of aunts and female cousins. So, when I looked in my underwear and saw blood, I did not panic, I simply went into the bathroom, read the instructions about how to insert a tampon and rejoined the party that was going on in my parent’s backyard. My mother’s response to being told was simply, “Ok, just remembers to change your tampons regularly.” That was it. No fanfare and no great story.
In fact, it was the same annoyance for me it seemed to be for other friends. Every month, around my period, I would develop debilitating stomach pains, which lasted until a doctor put me on birth control pills. I hated having to run to the bathroom to change tampons, even when I did not need to pee and having my period never made me feel “more like a woman” than before.
So, I am curious to see the stories that Suzanne collects, but I am also curious to know if my experience is the norm or if it is more common for a woman’s first period to be some life-changing event. I would be happy to hear other’s thoughts on the subject.
Monday, November 26, 2007
A LITTLE EXCHANGE OFFERED
I have a confession to make. I did not go shopping at all on Friday, and on Saturday, the only time I entered a store was to exchange a book that, through some crazy printing error, went from page 192 back to page 1. In fact, with the exception of Mother and Brother, all my holiday shopping is done and both Husband (12/6) and Sister (1/4) have their birthday presents purchased. Even better, I know exactly what I am getting Mother and Brother and just have to run out and pick it up. In fact, I consider Brother’s shopping done since he is going to send me a link so I can order his gift on-line.
How did I suddenly become so organized? No, it was not some weird alternate personality taking control; it was simply that I reduced my “buy for” list.
This year the list of holiday gifts is pared down to the core folks who I know I will either see over the holidays, or with whom I routinely exchange gifts. I am not purchasing any “emergency” gifts just in case an unexpected person shows up with a present.
In fact, with the exception of Sister’s presents (one of which is coming from Thailand, one from Ghana and one from Brazil for Hanukkah, belated housewarming and birthday respectively) all of the gifts are already in my office waiting to be wrapped.
There is something really nice about the holiday shopping being completed. It made Thanksgiving more relaxing because I did not feel any pressure to run out over the weekend and go shopping. In fact, while millions of Americans were hitting the malls on Friday, I spent the day wrapped in a blanket, relaxing on the couch in Husband’s parents’ family room, watching Family Feud reruns and trying to digest the two Thanksgiving meals I had consumed the day before.
The meals this year were wonderful. Meme’s sweet potatoes were the best they had ever been, the turkeys at both homes were cooked to perfection and you have never seen such an array of desserts as there was at both my family and Husband’s family celebrations.
And yet, I have a small complaint. Minor really when you consider how great everything tasted: Mother did not make an apple pie. She bought one. And, while I love her homemade pies, I can not stand the taste of a store-bought one.
My favorite part of Thanksgiving is the apple pie. Cousin Ado and I love it so much that we routinely steal a pie and hide somewhere and eat it with our hands. Mother even makes an extra pie so that there is a pie to steal, so it’s not a secret that I love this pie. Now, Mother claimed that because her arm is in a cast, she is unable to peel and slice apples for the pies, yet she made everything else as usual and without issue. So why no pie? Is it because Ado was with T’s family this year? And, if the only reason for not making the pie was her injured arm, then why not ask me to slice and peel apples? Was she secretly afraid I would do a better job?
Hmmm, maybe there is an underlying reason why her gift has not been purchased. We should do a trade: pie for Hanukkah gift. And in that case, my holiday shopping is complete, at least until I see a homemade apple pie show up on my counter.
I have a confession to make. I did not go shopping at all on Friday, and on Saturday, the only time I entered a store was to exchange a book that, through some crazy printing error, went from page 192 back to page 1. In fact, with the exception of Mother and Brother, all my holiday shopping is done and both Husband (12/6) and Sister (1/4) have their birthday presents purchased. Even better, I know exactly what I am getting Mother and Brother and just have to run out and pick it up. In fact, I consider Brother’s shopping done since he is going to send me a link so I can order his gift on-line.
How did I suddenly become so organized? No, it was not some weird alternate personality taking control; it was simply that I reduced my “buy for” list.
This year the list of holiday gifts is pared down to the core folks who I know I will either see over the holidays, or with whom I routinely exchange gifts. I am not purchasing any “emergency” gifts just in case an unexpected person shows up with a present.
In fact, with the exception of Sister’s presents (one of which is coming from Thailand, one from Ghana and one from Brazil for Hanukkah, belated housewarming and birthday respectively) all of the gifts are already in my office waiting to be wrapped.
There is something really nice about the holiday shopping being completed. It made Thanksgiving more relaxing because I did not feel any pressure to run out over the weekend and go shopping. In fact, while millions of Americans were hitting the malls on Friday, I spent the day wrapped in a blanket, relaxing on the couch in Husband’s parents’ family room, watching Family Feud reruns and trying to digest the two Thanksgiving meals I had consumed the day before.
The meals this year were wonderful. Meme’s sweet potatoes were the best they had ever been, the turkeys at both homes were cooked to perfection and you have never seen such an array of desserts as there was at both my family and Husband’s family celebrations.
And yet, I have a small complaint. Minor really when you consider how great everything tasted: Mother did not make an apple pie. She bought one. And, while I love her homemade pies, I can not stand the taste of a store-bought one.
My favorite part of Thanksgiving is the apple pie. Cousin Ado and I love it so much that we routinely steal a pie and hide somewhere and eat it with our hands. Mother even makes an extra pie so that there is a pie to steal, so it’s not a secret that I love this pie. Now, Mother claimed that because her arm is in a cast, she is unable to peel and slice apples for the pies, yet she made everything else as usual and without issue. So why no pie? Is it because Ado was with T’s family this year? And, if the only reason for not making the pie was her injured arm, then why not ask me to slice and peel apples? Was she secretly afraid I would do a better job?
Hmmm, maybe there is an underlying reason why her gift has not been purchased. We should do a trade: pie for Hanukkah gift. And in that case, my holiday shopping is complete, at least until I see a homemade apple pie show up on my counter.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
NOW FOR THE FUN
It was so anti-climatic that I forgot to tell anyone, but Husband and I were approved by the Co-Op Board and now can close on our new apartment. So the fun begins.
A few months ago, when we were putting together the Board package and trying to obtain a mortgage, I announced that I did not want to be involved under it was time to pick paint colors. Well, that time is upon us and I am excited. I called two contractors and am going to set up times for estimates. I know exactly what I want and just need the contractor to make sure I don’t get carried away and spend more than I mean to spend. Hopefully, one of these guys will work out and then I can get down to the fun of decorating.
I love that the apartment stuff is basically behind us – now we just have the closing left and that should be easy since all the other work is done and the sellers have already moved – so that I can begin the holidays relatively stress free. Most of my shopping is done as well. I only have to buy for Mother, Father and Brother (the hard people on my list since they all have pretty much everything they want) and my Secret Santa recipient at work.
My office has a tradition where we all draw a name from a bowl and then at the holiday party each person is presented with a gift (under $20) and no one knows who the gift was from. I sort of like it in theory but the pressure is terrible. I have a new person and I don’t know much about them other than he keeps kosher, and is getting married in August to a Rabbi. That’s all I got. What the heck to get him? Does he even drink? Will a bottle of wine be wasted? Plus, I am always disappointed with my gift. Last year I got champagne, but anyone who knows me would know I hate all carbonated beverages. It was probably a re-gift. I know I re-gifted it to someone else….
Maybe this year my Secret Santa will buy me a new couch. Too bad that is going to be slightly over the $20 cap.
It was so anti-climatic that I forgot to tell anyone, but Husband and I were approved by the Co-Op Board and now can close on our new apartment. So the fun begins.
A few months ago, when we were putting together the Board package and trying to obtain a mortgage, I announced that I did not want to be involved under it was time to pick paint colors. Well, that time is upon us and I am excited. I called two contractors and am going to set up times for estimates. I know exactly what I want and just need the contractor to make sure I don’t get carried away and spend more than I mean to spend. Hopefully, one of these guys will work out and then I can get down to the fun of decorating.
I love that the apartment stuff is basically behind us – now we just have the closing left and that should be easy since all the other work is done and the sellers have already moved – so that I can begin the holidays relatively stress free. Most of my shopping is done as well. I only have to buy for Mother, Father and Brother (the hard people on my list since they all have pretty much everything they want) and my Secret Santa recipient at work.
My office has a tradition where we all draw a name from a bowl and then at the holiday party each person is presented with a gift (under $20) and no one knows who the gift was from. I sort of like it in theory but the pressure is terrible. I have a new person and I don’t know much about them other than he keeps kosher, and is getting married in August to a Rabbi. That’s all I got. What the heck to get him? Does he even drink? Will a bottle of wine be wasted? Plus, I am always disappointed with my gift. Last year I got champagne, but anyone who knows me would know I hate all carbonated beverages. It was probably a re-gift. I know I re-gifted it to someone else….
Maybe this year my Secret Santa will buy me a new couch. Too bad that is going to be slightly over the $20 cap.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
INSTEAD OF SPLITTING THE BABY, KING SOLOMON SHOULD HAVE RECOMMENDED ALTERNATE WEEKENDS
Growing up, Thanksgiving was always my most favorite holiday. Besides the oodles and oodles of food, it was a chance to see my cousins and for the entire family – sometimes close to 40 of us – get together and spend some time together.
When I met Husband, he told me that Thanksgiving was one of his most favorite holidays as well. His mom cooks dinner for everyone and his entire family - there are 12 of them – get together for some quality time.
And thus began the holiday split. My family eats dinner around 2pm so we spend Wednesday night at my parents house, wake up there Thursday morning and around 4:30pm, we say good-bye to everyone and drive 45 minutes to Husband’s parents’ house where we have a second dinner and spend the night. Then we spend all of Friday and most of Saturday with Husband’s family, before heading back to have dinner on Saturday night with the folks in my family who were unable to make Thanksgiving on Thursday and drive back to NY with my Dad on Sunday. Sound exhausting? It is.
Neither Husband nor I were very happy with this arrangement. We both felt we did not get to spend enough time at either house and felt torn between the two. I love my in-laws and want to see them as much as possible, but I also want to see my cousins, aunts, and various family friends that spend Thanksgiving with us.
So, this year, we got a bright idea. Why were we schlepping between houses? Why weren’t we alternating? (Yes, neither of us are very smart since it took us almost 5 years to come up with this plan). So, we announced that this year is the last year we will be spending time in both houses. Next year, we will pick a house for Thanksgiving and the other family will get us the following year. We will still spend time with both families over the extended weekend, but the actual day of Thanksgiving will no longer be split. Which family goes first? Maybe we will flip a coin. Maybe we will coordinate so that we overlap holidays with my cousin Ado, who also needs to alternate with his partner’s family. I am not really so concerned about that right now.
And, if anyone asks me what I am thankful for this year, it is that next year (and every following year) should be a much more relaxing holiday…
Growing up, Thanksgiving was always my most favorite holiday. Besides the oodles and oodles of food, it was a chance to see my cousins and for the entire family – sometimes close to 40 of us – get together and spend some time together.
When I met Husband, he told me that Thanksgiving was one of his most favorite holidays as well. His mom cooks dinner for everyone and his entire family - there are 12 of them – get together for some quality time.
And thus began the holiday split. My family eats dinner around 2pm so we spend Wednesday night at my parents house, wake up there Thursday morning and around 4:30pm, we say good-bye to everyone and drive 45 minutes to Husband’s parents’ house where we have a second dinner and spend the night. Then we spend all of Friday and most of Saturday with Husband’s family, before heading back to have dinner on Saturday night with the folks in my family who were unable to make Thanksgiving on Thursday and drive back to NY with my Dad on Sunday. Sound exhausting? It is.
Neither Husband nor I were very happy with this arrangement. We both felt we did not get to spend enough time at either house and felt torn between the two. I love my in-laws and want to see them as much as possible, but I also want to see my cousins, aunts, and various family friends that spend Thanksgiving with us.
So, this year, we got a bright idea. Why were we schlepping between houses? Why weren’t we alternating? (Yes, neither of us are very smart since it took us almost 5 years to come up with this plan). So, we announced that this year is the last year we will be spending time in both houses. Next year, we will pick a house for Thanksgiving and the other family will get us the following year. We will still spend time with both families over the extended weekend, but the actual day of Thanksgiving will no longer be split. Which family goes first? Maybe we will flip a coin. Maybe we will coordinate so that we overlap holidays with my cousin Ado, who also needs to alternate with his partner’s family. I am not really so concerned about that right now.
And, if anyone asks me what I am thankful for this year, it is that next year (and every following year) should be a much more relaxing holiday…
Monday, November 12, 2007
GROWING UP
On Saturday evening, Husband and I had dinner with his friend PTG and PTG’s fiancé. Turns out, he met a woman the night of his going away party (where we were sending him off to live in Denver), fell in love, got engaged and had dinner with us to announce that he was moving back to NYC. I am totally psyched at this news. It’s good for Husband, who missed his friend terribly, and good for me, who liked the cool places that PTG would find for us to hang out.
So, on Saturday night we all had dinner at a Latin-fusion restaurant by my apartment. Dinner was at 7pm and everyone arrived on time. We enjoyed some drinks (although only a couple) and dinner was over by 8:45pm. We laughed and talked about the home buying process that each couple is currently undergoing. Then, after dinner, Husband and I hailed a cab from PTG and his fiancé and began to walk the 5 blocks home.
Husband turned to me and said, “I loved dinner tonight. For the first time in my life, I feel like an adult and am excited for the prospect.” At that moment, we heard a sound like a bird squawking and turned toward where the sound was coming from. It was PTG driving past us in his taxi, his head out the window, yelling. “How much for your woman,” PTG yelled as he whizzed passed.
We laughed, not quite as grown up as we felt a few seconds prior.
On Saturday evening, Husband and I had dinner with his friend PTG and PTG’s fiancé. Turns out, he met a woman the night of his going away party (where we were sending him off to live in Denver), fell in love, got engaged and had dinner with us to announce that he was moving back to NYC. I am totally psyched at this news. It’s good for Husband, who missed his friend terribly, and good for me, who liked the cool places that PTG would find for us to hang out.
So, on Saturday night we all had dinner at a Latin-fusion restaurant by my apartment. Dinner was at 7pm and everyone arrived on time. We enjoyed some drinks (although only a couple) and dinner was over by 8:45pm. We laughed and talked about the home buying process that each couple is currently undergoing. Then, after dinner, Husband and I hailed a cab from PTG and his fiancé and began to walk the 5 blocks home.
Husband turned to me and said, “I loved dinner tonight. For the first time in my life, I feel like an adult and am excited for the prospect.” At that moment, we heard a sound like a bird squawking and turned toward where the sound was coming from. It was PTG driving past us in his taxi, his head out the window, yelling. “How much for your woman,” PTG yelled as he whizzed passed.
We laughed, not quite as grown up as we felt a few seconds prior.
Friday, November 02, 2007
FACING FEARS
There is an old joke about people’s number one fear being public speaking and their number two fear being death. The joke goes something like this: At a funeral, more people would rather be the person in the casket than the person giving the eulogy. I am definitely more scared of death than I am of public speaking (Hello? I am a litigator! My entire job involves public speaking).
My comfort with public speaking can actually be traced to one particular moment in third grade. I was new in school and our class was putting on The Wizard of Oz for the entire school. I was cast as the Wicked Witch of the West. At the time, I thought it was because I was a wonderful actress, but I have since figured out that it is the only part in the entire show without any signing, and despite the accolades I give myself while signing in the shower, it turns out that the general public does not share my appreciation of my own voice. Anyway, I was terrified to say my lines loudly and went through rehearsals in barely a whisper. It was so bad that the teacher actually spoke to my parents about it. So, my Dad (who is also a litigator and one of the best public speakers I have ever heard) took me to a park and had me stand on a tree stump. He hid behind a bush where I could not see him and fed me my lines.
I had to yell all my lines in order for him to hear me. I was totally embarrassed and confessed my fear of public speaking to my father. His response was simply to remind me that if someone walked by and saw me, all they saw was a cute 8-year old reciting lines from a play. If someone walked by and saw him, they saw a 30-something man yelling lines from a children’s play and really, which one of us should be embarrassed? I took it to heart and went on to be a smashing success in the Wizard of Oz and never had a problem speaking in public again.
Unfortunately, while I never developed a real phobia of speaking in public, I did develop another debilitating phobia. I am terrified of needles. Sure, I know what you are thinking – no one likes needles. Nope this goes beyond that. I am more scared of needles that I am of dying. Don’t believe me? Let me tell you a little story…
In early 2002 or thereabouts, I was walking down Columbus Avenue in Manhattan when suddenly everything went black. I woke up a second later on the ground surrounded by strangers. Humiliated, I assured everyone I was fine and went on my merry way. A few days later it happened again. And then again a few days later. This time, I was worried and contacted the very cute and very capable Dr. Kendler, who immediately performed an EKG and, when he did not like the results of the EKG, sent me to a local hospital for tests.
The test involved running on a treadmill to see if I would faint. I readily agreed until the doctor at the hospital explained that I needed to have an IV in my arm for him to perform the test. Apparently, if/when I fainted, the medical staff needed the ability to quickly administer medication. I refused the IV, explaining that if I had an IV, I would faint anyway and be unable to run on the treadmill. The doctor was insistent but so was I. No IV. Finally, the doctor looked at me and used what I believe had been his ultimate manipulation tool, “You could die without this test,” he said. “If there is a problem with your heart and we don’t fix it, you may not live.”
I listened to the doctor. I really do not want to die anytime in the near future. But, I also did not want to have an IV. Plus, the doctor said I could die and that I may not live. He did not know the ultimate outcome. On the other hand, if I took the test, I would definitely have an IV. I rejected the test, the doctor yelled at me, and 5+ years later, I am perfectly healthy and have not had any fainting spells.
So I think it is clear that on my list of fears, needles rank higher than death.
Which leads me to day. I needed a flu shot. I have never previously had a flu shot (see fear of needles, above) and always preferred to risk getting the flu (which I only may get) to the definite outcome of a needle. But, my doctor was adamant that given my medical history and the seriousness of the strain that is expected to hit this year, I get a flu shot. He would not even argue with me about it (although, I have to say, if you are a doctor and feel I need a shot, it is best not to give me an alternative). I was terrified and walked into the office today knowing full well what was coming. And so I called Husband.
And, if I ever complained about Husband, I take it all back now. He came with me to the doctor, held my hand during the flu shot and even distracted me with logistical questions about this evening’s plans. And, even though Husband is squeamish about doctor’s offices, he did not show it.
Maybe a few more of these sessions at the doctors and my fear of needles will go the way of my old fear of public speaking. I certainly hope so.
There is an old joke about people’s number one fear being public speaking and their number two fear being death. The joke goes something like this: At a funeral, more people would rather be the person in the casket than the person giving the eulogy. I am definitely more scared of death than I am of public speaking (Hello? I am a litigator! My entire job involves public speaking).
My comfort with public speaking can actually be traced to one particular moment in third grade. I was new in school and our class was putting on The Wizard of Oz for the entire school. I was cast as the Wicked Witch of the West. At the time, I thought it was because I was a wonderful actress, but I have since figured out that it is the only part in the entire show without any signing, and despite the accolades I give myself while signing in the shower, it turns out that the general public does not share my appreciation of my own voice. Anyway, I was terrified to say my lines loudly and went through rehearsals in barely a whisper. It was so bad that the teacher actually spoke to my parents about it. So, my Dad (who is also a litigator and one of the best public speakers I have ever heard) took me to a park and had me stand on a tree stump. He hid behind a bush where I could not see him and fed me my lines.
I had to yell all my lines in order for him to hear me. I was totally embarrassed and confessed my fear of public speaking to my father. His response was simply to remind me that if someone walked by and saw me, all they saw was a cute 8-year old reciting lines from a play. If someone walked by and saw him, they saw a 30-something man yelling lines from a children’s play and really, which one of us should be embarrassed? I took it to heart and went on to be a smashing success in the Wizard of Oz and never had a problem speaking in public again.
Unfortunately, while I never developed a real phobia of speaking in public, I did develop another debilitating phobia. I am terrified of needles. Sure, I know what you are thinking – no one likes needles. Nope this goes beyond that. I am more scared of needles that I am of dying. Don’t believe me? Let me tell you a little story…
In early 2002 or thereabouts, I was walking down Columbus Avenue in Manhattan when suddenly everything went black. I woke up a second later on the ground surrounded by strangers. Humiliated, I assured everyone I was fine and went on my merry way. A few days later it happened again. And then again a few days later. This time, I was worried and contacted the very cute and very capable Dr. Kendler, who immediately performed an EKG and, when he did not like the results of the EKG, sent me to a local hospital for tests.
The test involved running on a treadmill to see if I would faint. I readily agreed until the doctor at the hospital explained that I needed to have an IV in my arm for him to perform the test. Apparently, if/when I fainted, the medical staff needed the ability to quickly administer medication. I refused the IV, explaining that if I had an IV, I would faint anyway and be unable to run on the treadmill. The doctor was insistent but so was I. No IV. Finally, the doctor looked at me and used what I believe had been his ultimate manipulation tool, “You could die without this test,” he said. “If there is a problem with your heart and we don’t fix it, you may not live.”
I listened to the doctor. I really do not want to die anytime in the near future. But, I also did not want to have an IV. Plus, the doctor said I could die and that I may not live. He did not know the ultimate outcome. On the other hand, if I took the test, I would definitely have an IV. I rejected the test, the doctor yelled at me, and 5+ years later, I am perfectly healthy and have not had any fainting spells.
So I think it is clear that on my list of fears, needles rank higher than death.
Which leads me to day. I needed a flu shot. I have never previously had a flu shot (see fear of needles, above) and always preferred to risk getting the flu (which I only may get) to the definite outcome of a needle. But, my doctor was adamant that given my medical history and the seriousness of the strain that is expected to hit this year, I get a flu shot. He would not even argue with me about it (although, I have to say, if you are a doctor and feel I need a shot, it is best not to give me an alternative). I was terrified and walked into the office today knowing full well what was coming. And so I called Husband.
And, if I ever complained about Husband, I take it all back now. He came with me to the doctor, held my hand during the flu shot and even distracted me with logistical questions about this evening’s plans. And, even though Husband is squeamish about doctor’s offices, he did not show it.
Maybe a few more of these sessions at the doctors and my fear of needles will go the way of my old fear of public speaking. I certainly hope so.
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