Pushing on

Today I got a phone bill at the office that was twice our normal bill. It seems that last month, when I called to make sure we were on the most cost-efficient plan, the person who "helped" me decided to add internet service to our account. My theory is that she gets some kind of bonus for selling things, and doesn't care one iota that I had to spend a good hour getting it taken off. And to complain about it? I just don't have the time.

I'm beginning to walk around with blinders on to what's happening around me. Thirty thousand more of our young men and women to Afghanistan. Banks taking my money and paying it out to their executives. Credit card companies increasing their fees before deadlines that have now been extended. The right wingers' contention that global warming isn't real. Unemployment, homelessness, agencies without funds. I'm sick of looking. I can't begin to think of how to overcome my complete inability to feel in control of my world.

Today was, to tell you the truth, another bitch of a day. And like last night, I had something planned after work. I thought several times of skipping it; it was an ornament-making class at Gallery Shibui and I just felt too tired to go. I didn't know where the studio was and it was dark, so I told myself that I wasn't going to mess around trying to find it. I like to throw obstacles in my way like that. In spite of myself, I found the studio.

What a wonderful class. Alice Southwick is a creative, talented teacher, and there were only two other people in the class so we got extra attention. At the end of the class, I was tired, but very happy that I went. Here is what we made:



I'm hopeful that tomorrow is going to be a better day. Fingers, toes and eyes crossed.

Gotta B**ch

I hate to end the posting drought with a gripe-fest, but I must. Today was horrible. Here's why:

1. It was supposed to be my day off. I had to work.

2. It has rained all day. Cold rain during the morning, steamy rain tonight. I've had to go in and out many times, and had to walk a few blocks in it to meet some people for lunch.

3. Today is my mother-in-law's birthday. When I went to the store to buy her some tiramisu, the bakery lady smashed the top of one piece putting them in the container. When I asked her to get me another one, she didn't even attempt to hide her irritation. So I gave her a good taste of my irritation, letting her know that if it was too much trouble I'd be glad to forgo my purchase.

4. When I went to my mother-in-law's to visit, an old acquaintance of hers called and wanted to catch up on both her news and our news--about twenty minutes worth--and the entire time we're talking my MIL is waving and shaking her head and mouthing, "I don't want to talk to her." Duh. Neither did I.

5. One cat threw up on my dining room rug and the other peed in the entrance hall.

6. Three words: banks, clients, and churches. Don't get me started.

7. I'm feeling decidedly un-prosperous right now. And this just isn't like me.

I came home from work tonight thinking I might skip my darkroom photography class. I went anyway. And although I spent all night on one photograph, I feel very happy with it. And so, to end this decidedly crappy day, here is my first ever posted black and white photograph.



I thank you all for listening.

Getting Ready

The other day I read a blog post from a woman with four children. They were traveling and she had packed all she and the children needed for the trip. Her husband needed only to get his little ditty bag ready and load everything in the car. However, when they got to their destination, he asked, "Honey, did we pack my lotion?" Needless to say the rest of the post should have been unprintable, but she managed to finish the story without curse words.

I know what she means. Wednesday night we gave a party for my husband's minister, celebrating his twenty years at the church. I cleaned the house, bought the food, hid 500 items of clutter, prepared the food, set out the food, went to church, and came home to light candles and turn on the music (a playlist I had carefully prepared sometime during the day) and await the company.

Five minutes after everyone had gotten here, my husband loudly asked why the music was so soft. And what was that playing? I ignored him. Why were we playing the music on my small IPod player and not through the speakers, he went on. The music was playing through the speakers, so I continued to ignore him.

On the dining room table, there were ham biscuits, fruit and vegetables that I had cut up, cheeses, desserts. Around the kitchen there were containers of nuts and sesame sticks. There was one dish of chips and salsa. As soon as the chips and salsa were gone, my husband loudly asked if we had any more salsa.

My point is this: There was no we to anything that had gone into the preparation for the party.

That said, let's get back to the blog post I mentioned earlier. My husband once said that men don't wear "outfits" and this was hilarious to me at the time. But when we were going on a trip, the fact that girls and women wear outfits was my biggest advantage. I could tell my daughters, "Three outfits," and they could pack their entire wardrobe for the trip. I didn't care if the outfit components matched as long as there were socks, underwear, shoes, shirts, and pants for every day of the trip. I could add, "One dressy outfit" to the instructions and they could execute that part too. Young as they were, they understood the concept of packing in outfits.

I guess I'm rambling here, set off by the inability of the husband in the blog post to perform a task that even my young daughters could do--that is get himself packed and ready for the trip--and the fact that he asked if his wife had brought the thing he had forgotten. Even my daughters would have said, "Mommy, I forgot my toothbrush," or their Sunday shoes or whatever they didn't pack.

I will say that I felt avenged at the party Wednesday night when my husband changed the music to a playlist that was entitled, "Dance Party" and he thought he was getting the Rolling Stones and other rock musicians. It was disco music, and I laughed out loud when I heard the Village People do the intro to "YMCA" - my husband HATES disco music.

Irony: The daily reading today says, "Everything that irritates us about someone else should lead us to an understanding of ourselves." Carl Jung

HUH?

For the past several days (maybe weeks--I just noticed it a few days ago) The News and Observer has been running the following ad:

"This Thanksgiving, we are proud to be offering the largest paper of the year filled with holiday sales inserts from all your favorite retailers. In addition, this paper will include a special Decade of Champions section honoring the great success of North Carolina sports teams over the last 10 years. Due to the increased size and value of this edition, the newsstand price will be raised to $2.00 for individual copies of the Thanksgiving paper. Daily subscribers will be charged at their current Sunday rate."

Excuse me? You're filling my paper, not with news or articles of importance to my life, but with advertising? Advertising that you get paid for, and that I pull out immediately to put in the recycling bin that has to be hauled to the curb? You're charging me more for this without my permission? And you're acting like it's some special little gift you're giving your subscribers???

You've got to be kidding.

I have continued to subscribe to my local paper because I believe in the printed news. Even though the paper has gotten thinner and thinner, and the real news rarer and rarer, I have continued to pay the price I paid for the paper of old. But, Mr. Orage Quarles, this is the last straw. I will not pay for you to bulk up my paper with crap and charge me extra for it.

As a first step I'm cancelling the Thursday Thanksgiving special advertising edition. And I'm going to give myself a few more days to think about it. But the way I see it now, the Sunday New York Times has as much news as my local paper puts out all week, and I'm tired of being hoodwinked into paying for something that is really, in the end, a pile of recycling.

Come out of the closet

These are the reasons I hate to clean out my closet:

1. I know there are alot of clothes that I'm not going to wear.
2. Some of the clothes were expensive and I feel guilty about not wearing them.
3. I keep thinking that if I hang on to something, I'll like it better.
4. I really need to try each item of clothing on to see if it fits. This is very time-consuming.
5. Not only do I need to try it on, I need to find a top/bottom/shoes to go with it.
6. Some of the clothes are too small and this is depressing.
7. I have this fear that if things get really bad, I may need them. (Maybe there's been just too much talk about Armageddon for my taste!)

I admitted something to myself and to my husband today. I can wear a piece of clothing many times and feel as though it is flattering/I look good in it. But if I wear it one time and don't think I look good in it, I probably won't wear it again.

Another reason that I will wear something, like it, then turn on it is if I see a photograph of myself in it. There was this jacket that I absolutely adored. When I tried it on in the store, I thought it was perfect. I wore it every other day for a month. Then I saw a photograph of my writing group with me in that jacket. I've never worn it again.

My husband cleaned out his closet today. He gave away shoes and clothes without a second thought. He set aside four cotton shirts that he wants to wash in hot water to see if they'll shrink. He didn't try on one thing to see if he'd outgrown it or if it still looks good on him; he assumes that he hasn't and it does.

When it's time to clean out my closet, I wish I had his attitude.

Here is what my sister said about my closet: "Saw the closet: looks like Hurry-cane Katrina blew through Chico's and the shoe levees broke."

Yes indeed, laughing we endure.