Hair Appliances

Of course, I remember these fondly. In my never ending quest to make my hair look like a normal person, this particular appliance was my best friend through high school and college. Hot rollers had not been invented. Or, if they were around, I had not heard of them yet.

This is me as a freshman in college. I washed my hair and put it in a Pebbles-type 'do and strapped on my hair dryer. If a group of people decided to study in the lounge or in another room, I unplugged it, transported it and set up shop elsewhere.

This other photo is me as a sophomore in college. That's the 'do I wore under the hairdryer. I find it hysterical that the background of this photo is a gigantic Valentine's Day card taped to the wall. It's kind of hard to imagine that anyone would feel the urge to send me a V.D. card after seeing me in that get up.

Recently I was trying to make my hair calm down and running through my various brushes, rollers and curling irons. I had serious longing for my old dryer.

The Dance

Any joy or relief I used to find in music is temporarily on vacation. I can't enjoy music because every song and every artist evokes a memory. It's my own fault; I married a music man.

Of course, I enjoyed music long before I met him. But, when you are with a music man, it goes to new heights. You get absorbed in his knowledge. You associate songs (and especially lyrics) with happier times. You marvel at his mind and his talent. Happier times involve singing around the piano or dancing on the patio. You remember every concert, every dance, every quiet moment -- and what song was playing at the time.

My iPod hasn't been on in months. I have broken two nails jabbing the radio station buttons in the car. I turn it off but then the music in my head is worse than whatever they might play next.

I love country music and I thought I was safe with that. Unfortunately, they are playing Garth Brooks' "The Dance" a lot lately. This is a song the husband learned to play on the piano for me, even though he is not a fan of country music. It is sad and haunting. It is appropriate but we didn't know it at the time.

From The Dance:

And I, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go.
Our lives, are better left to chance.
I could've missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance.

Big Hair Jobs

I can make my hair look like this. In fact, it probably looks like hers right now. Plus, I"m pretty sure this job is in my future.

Phone calls from my temp agency cause two immediate feelings: happiness and dread. I prefer working and get a little excited at the possibility of making my car payment or having the money to get my roots done. (It all comes back to hair!) But I also have learned to live with the feeling of dread. Companies don't use employment/temporary agencies to fill jobs that I am interested in or qualified for. Especially in this economy.

Happiness and dread go hand in hand in lots of situations. But let's not go there.

"The trouble with unemployment is that you wake up in the morning and you're on the job."
Slappy White

Bye Bye Babies

My assignment with the 12-year olds at the not-for-profit agency is over. They make assignments based on upcoming events and for me to continue I would have to commit to a 6-week period. I can't do it. Maybe I'll be sorry but I think not. It does not give me any time to pursue employment that I am actually able and willing to do.

So, it's back to the temp agency for my next assignment. There's no guarantee that they'll have one. If they do, there's no guarantee it will be any better than this one although I did ask them to refrain from telephone sales. We shall see.

I might even miss some of my little (and big) coworkers for a minute. At least I have my coffee mug for a souvenir.

"Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn't permanent."
Jean Kerr

More Questions to Ponder

This is going around the Internet and my cousin sent it to me. I love these questions. If you have some witty answers, let me know.

If you have sex with a prostitute against her will, is it considered rape or shoplifting?

Can you cry under water?

How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a "penny for your thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going to?

Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buried in for eternity?

Why does a round pizza come in a square box?

What disease did cured ham actually have?

How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?

Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up like every two hours?

If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?

Why are you IN a movie, but you're ON TV?

Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?

Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They're going to see you naked anyway.

Why is "bra" singular and "panties" plural?

Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat?

If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a stupid song about him?

Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane ?

Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!

If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?

If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?

Why did you just try singing the two songs above?

Why do they call it an asteroid when it's outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it's in your butt?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

The Economy

Isn't it scary? Are you, like me, skittish about how much worse it might get? So many people are in completely awful situations. Yes, many could have handled things differently but who foresaw the Wall Street and financial industry fiasco? Who imagined the possible demise of the Big 3 automakers? Who thought we'd all know people who have lost their home, their job, their retirement or all three? The disparity between the haves and have-nots is larger than the grand canyon.

Much of this mess I call my life can be traced right back to me. Even with the mistakes that were not mine entirely, I was an enabler. I also fell into my awful habit of looking the other way or total denial about financial matters. Trust me. It's not a smart solution.

I am still a pollyanna and I do believe we will recover. The economy will improve. I will get a full-time job. Consumer confidence will slowly return and we will find a new normal. I shed my rose-colored glasses along the way but I do realize my situation is a friggin' rose garden compared to some people I meet.

Permission to Be Afraid

Some of you have expressed genuine concern about my safety due to my cracks about my coworker. Worry not. She only snarls; she poses no real threat.

On the other hand, some situations can be threatening. I read "The Gift of Fear" when it came out in 1997. I have reread portions of it many times. It is geared toward women but I know many men who have also found it helpful. This is from the flap:

True fear is a gift because it is a survival signal that sounds only in the presence of danger, yet unwarranted fear has assumed a power over us that it holds over no other creature on earth.

True fear is primal. It is the voice in our head that says, "No!" Many people, especially women, ignore it for fear of offending someone. It's a good way to wind up dead.

I do trust my instincts now. (I will be the first to admit that I've done some pretty dumb things in my youth that could have gone way wrong!) I am also super cautious. I rarely go out alone after dark. Whenever possible, I take my dog along in the car. If I am out and about alone, I let someone know where I will be and I keep my cell phone on my person. I do not hesitate to ask someone I know to escort me to my car.

No one is ever completely safe and I refuse to live in a bubble. But when those little hairs on the back of my neck go up, I pay attention.

This quote was written before the digital age but it still fits:

"If you want to be safe on the streets at night, carry a projector and slides of your last vacation."
Helen Mundis

Wasn't He Famous Once?

More snippets from the land of Temp Hell ...

First of all, there have been no more prizes since the day I blew everyone else away. I have continued to sit in my stall like a veal and work like a dog but alas, no prizes! Those of you vying for the coffee mug might have to wait until next week. I need to keep my current one handy as a possible weapon.

When my little herd was hired to join the team, there were four of us who went through training (and I use that word lightly) at the same time. Of the four, Danny (not his real name but close to it) was born to be a pep squad leader. I found him annoying but chalked him up as someone who would be great at sales. Instead, Danny did not make a single sale on the first day we worked and then he never returned. I guess he was banished to the temp afterlife.

Jimmy (also roughly 12-years old) was very nervous. Once we were assigned to our stalls -- I leapt over someone to get the one in the corner -- Jimmy chose the one next to me. We can all hear each other and Jimmy used to give himself little pep talks before he picked up the phone.

"Be the man! You can close it!"

Jimmy lasted a day and a half. He made one sale and left after lunch on the second day.

Cindy (I chose this name because she has a slight speech impediment like Cindy on the Brady Bunch) is still with us. She is a single mother. She's very friendly and curious. When someone mentioned the Jerry Lewis telethon, she actually said:

"I know he was famous for something. Was he an actor?"

Cindy also asked me about my family. I was slightly evasive and just said our children are grown. Then, as if I didn't already feel older than dirt, she asked me how many grandchildren I have.

I'll have to fill you in on the rest of the herd later. Off to my stall I go, ready to defend myself in the parking lot and ready to close that sale!

"Never get into fights with ugly people. They have nothing to lose."
Unknown

Getting to Know You Games

As you might imagine, I loathe "getting to know you" games. Except for narcissists and natural-born cheerleaders, they make people uncomfortable. In a semi-social situation like a bridal shower, they're ridiculous. Face it. At a bridal shower, everyone is already miserable except the bride-to-be and now we're going to add insult to injury by making everyone stand up and talk about themselves.

In most social situations I have found that adults are quite capable of introducing themselves and starting a conversation. No organized game required.

Someone at my little temp job did not get this memo. They thought it would be super fun for all of us to fill out a little survey, then stand up and read our answers. (My brain is calculating the time and expenses associated with this exercise. Someone actually typed it. Hmmm. Guess some people need a document to remind them what their favorite color might be. Then it was printed, wasting time, paper, toner, etc. Then we all took time away from the phone -- silly me! I thought that's what we're getting paid to do -- to stand up and recite our boring answers.

I'll spare you the entire survey but it was filled with thought-provoking questions like:

Your favorite color?
Your favorite coffee drink?
Your favorite place to vacation?
Your favorite candy?
Your favorite store?

I told the truth on some of them and lied on others just to cement my position as a weirdo. For instance, I said my favorite color is puce. Guess what store was everyone's favorite? Yep. The Walmart.

My favorite was the coffee question. A couple of people had some convoluted concoction like triple mocha latte cappuccino with sugar-free vanilla and extra foam. I am the only person who said, "black coffee." The majority answered that they do not drink coffee. Except ... there's this weird combination of defiance and pride. "I DO NOT DRINK COFFEE!" was said with serious attitude. This was usually said by someone slurping on a Big Gulp.

Must run and see what games are in store for today. I found this great caricature and it represents my coworker who is going to roll me in the parking lot. She looks just like this except ... she doesn't drink coffee!

"What you have when everyone wears the same play clothes for an occasion, is addressed by a nickname, expected to participate in Show & Tell, and bullied out of any desire for privacy is not a democracy; it is kindergarten."
Miss Manners (Judith Martin)

Overachievers Anonymous

More tales from the temp job ...

I am in serious need of a 12-step program and it's not for alcohol, drugs or overeating. Nope. I am an overachiever even when I would rather not be. I am well trained from my childhood to give everything my best shot.

At my little kindergarten job, we have daily contests. Sometimes it is the number of "sales/commitments" you complete. Other days it might be referrals or something else. I want to scream, "I am just here to do a job -- I do not want to participate in these insulting and ridiculous activities!" But, I don't. I go about my business, stay on the phone, and keep my head down in my little stall, trying to remain incognito.

For two days in a row, I have won the daily contest. Monday I won a coffee mug. (Don't you get jealous now!) Yesterday, I completed the most sales anyone has ever done on one day. This resulted in the director doing some kind of fat girl cheer. Other people in my position pretended to clap along but they're not fooling me. One of them says my name in a very snarly tone. I am convinced she's going to jump me in the parking lot. ("Jump" might be a stretch -- she is also a rather large woman/child.)

My prize for yesterday's contest is .... drumroll .... I get to wear jeans to work today. This is a reward concept I have never grasped. But, I am a team player so I am wearing my good black jeans.

"I've tried relaxing, but -- I don't know -- I feel more comfortable tense."
Hamilton

Temporary Insanity

As I continue to pursue full-time employment in my field (along with nine million other people,) I have been working for a temporary agency to help make ends meet.

Ok, that's a joke. The ends are not meeting. They don't even reside in the same hemisphere. But, I figure every little bit helps.

I have taken on a few assignments -- each a little more humiliating than the last. I'm currently working for a non-profit agency, soliciting business people to participate in a fund-raising event. The job is fine. I am of the mindset that if you give me a job, I will do it to the best of my ability. Apparently this is not the norm. This particular office acts as if none of us can read, write, etc. We have little games and contests to win ridiculous prizes that I immediately throw away.

I'm excited to give you a glimpse of this world but I must run off to the "office" to work and see what activities are in store for today.

"I have enough money to last me the rest of my life unless I buy something."
Jackie Mason

Bathing Suits

I was going to save this one for later. I'm sure you are so very tired of hearing about my clothing and my closet purge -- I am even sick of it. But, since the swimsuit story was brought up in a recent comment, I thought I'd go ahead and share.

The visual is just thrown in for comic relief. I don't know these people but they sure remind me of some swimsuits I've owned.

When I came to the swimsuit section of my closet purge, I was once again reminded of every vacation and every summer for the last 20 years. I used to buy one or two suits a year. Some years I would splurge at an end-of-season sale and buy several. I've bought a few on vacation. For someone who does not enjoy shopping or trying on swimsuits, I have always had many and seemed to be on an endless pursuit of new ones. I have worn them all and apparently, I've kept them all.

They even have little categories in my mind:

Two-piece suits. Only to be worn on vacations. Never to be worn on any kind of business trip or to the husband's club.

Comfortable one-piece suits. Usually older and great for lake weekends.

Wild patterns and colors. Usually bought on a whim while vacationing somewhere tropical. Often with matching sarong, which seemed important at the time. Lived at the bottom of the pile until next trip.

Trusted standbys. Love them. Worn them for years. My regulars for cocktail corner. All of my friends have seen them but I will continue to wear them until they are worn out or I am.

Dressy suits. (I am not making this up.) I bought a couple of suits that were shimmery and not anything you would wear off a diving board. These were for ski trips that might end with a dip in the hot tub or other such occasions.

My friend Lynn helped me sort through them. Remember, we only recently reconnected and she had no idea that I had amassed this ridiculous amount of clothing. I think the swimsuit collection put her over the edge.

She made lots of politically-incorrect statements about the women who would line up to get my vibrant and glitzy suits. She made a tough clean-up job a whole lot easier with the laughter we shared.

The majority of the suits are gone now. I will have to make do with my trusted standbys. They were always my favorites anyway and I haven't been in a hot tub in years.

A Closet Tale

This (of course) is not my actual closet. But it's pretty darn close. (I don't think I've ever taken a cake in there.) Cleaning it out was daunting.

When you have a large closet, it's very easy to fill. Clothing and accessories add up. Even though I'm not a shopper, I am also not very good at getting rid of things. The luxury of lots of space quickly became a dumping ground. Even I had to admit it was ridiculous. Tons of outdated clothing or items I would never wear again were squished against each other. Accessories and miles of shoes were on top of each other. Old business suits were neighbors with bad resort/vacation clothes. In the middle of the mess, I was able to identify a few items I actually wear.

Also, we used to keep boxed photos in the basement. After a pipe leak or some other disaster we re-boxed thousands of photos (without any organization or cleaning out the duplicates) and stored them in one of the guest room closets. When the Captain and the Belle moved in, we moved all of the boxes to my closet.

I also found miles of yarn and semi-completed knitting and crocheting projects. I rarely do either of these activities any more. And to top it off, excess wrapping paper, miscellaneous cards and ribbons, and wrapping supplies were crammed in a corner.

Sounds like a pretty picture, doesn't it?

I have completed about 90% of the clean up. Since I am emotionally attached to many items -- even ones I will never use or wear -- it has been difficult. I find myself thinking, "Oh, I wore that when we ..." At that moment, I want to hang on to it. Instead I am training myself to hang on to the memory.

An Unintentional Blog Vacation

Many comments have come my way about my infrequent posting of late. It is very flattering to be missed.

Some new curves have been thrown at me lately and as I navigate my way through them, I have had to let some other things slide. But not for long! The opinions have not stopped and I have many postings festering in my little brain.

If you care to check back in a couple of days, I should be back on track. In the meantime, I must celebrate a wonderful oldie's birthday (my father) and enjoy some of the birthday dessert prepared by his favorite oldie (my mother.) I get to crash the party just by being here.

Doll Clothes

I am long overdue for purging closets. So, I've begun sorting and piling. I'm trying to abide by the rule that if I have not worn it in more than a year, out it goes. It's embarrassing how many items I have hung onto for so many years. Many of my business clothes are left over from my corporate days. Hmmm .... I left that position in 1997.

Some donations are only worthy of the Goodwill box but many of the suits and jackets would work for someone who is interviewing or starting to establish a work wardrobe. I take those to a local women's shelter. I dropped several beautiful (and expensive) things off the other day and the volunteer made a snide crack about the sizes.

I didn't like the comment or her tone. It hurt my feelings and it made me second guess my choice of donation destinations. I could have made a crack right back but I'm trying to work on my passive-aggressive tendencies.

But I probably won't take more donations there for a while.

A Snuggie Gift

After my rant about the Snuggie craze you probably think I'll never own one. Guess what? I now own two.

It seems someone took it upon him or herself to send me an anonymous gift of two Snuggies. They are royal blue and exactly as described on the infomercial. I haven't used one yet but it is snowing and cold today so I might curl up with one later.

Since I have no idea who sent these to me I will send this thank you note into cyberspace. Many thanks to my Snuggie elf!

Prejudice

Note to readers who get offended at anything politically incorrect: You can skip this post.

I have a big, black dog. I talk to her as if she actually understands me. If she were human, she would have several strikes against her:

She is female.
She is big.
She is black.
She makes up her own rules.
She talks too much.

These are not detriments in my mind. I like to point out to her when she is being wronged by the entire male species, human and animal. She is not fat; she is big boned. And I tell her that big girls are beautiful too. I point out all holidays or events that recognize black achievements such as MLK day and Black History month. (One of her favorite poses is the arm outstretched thing. Whenever she does it, I say, "Power to your people!" During the election, I kept her posted on the candidates and congratulated her when Obama won.

She is very protective. She is not really a barker until she hears a sound outside or a knock on the door. Otherwise, she's just chatty with groans and moans. Yesterday, my mother walked in after her shower and she was wearing a towel on her head. Gabby stood straight up and gave a warning growl. She was serious.

Guess she doesn't like towel heads. There goes my dream of taking her on a Middle East vacation.

Just Like High School

For all of my years as a student, I consistently received two comments on my report card:

"Excellent student" or "Talks too much in class"

Forgive the distinction but although I did talk in class, I was responding! Someone ... usually one of the girls above had asked a question, made a comment, sent me a look or passed me a note.

Our girlfriend reunion weekend was magical. I expected it to be great and I was not disappointed. The four of us could sit in a room with nothing to do but watch paint dry and we could not run out of conversation or laughter. We ate a lot of junk and tried to fill it in with some healthy stuff. We asked our questions and they ran the gamut from funny to morose to reflective.

They all went to my church on Sunday. I tried to be an excellent student. And yes, we were a tad disruptive.

To my goldies, thank you!

Cleaning

It is true that for most of my adult life, I have had someone clean my house. Single, divorced, married ... it didn't matter. As long as I could afford it, I did it. Truthfully, I did it even when I really couldn't afford it but I was spoiled. (In my defense, I still did some cleaning!) Anyway, the whole cleaning thing changed about a year ago.

While living with my oldies, I try to help out. The comedian Steven Wright (who reminds me a lot of George Carlin) used to say, "It's a small world ... but I wouldn't want to paint it." I would change that sentence to: It's a small world but I wouldn't want to dust it.

Earlier this week, I pitched in with my oldies and another couple to help clean our church. (Remember one of my resolutions was to volunteer more.) It was rewarding.

I may not always clean my house but I felt a great joy in helping to clean God's house.

A Friendship Story

In The Big Chill, there's a scene where the group of friends is reflecting on their friendship. One of of them says, "It's no surprise that our friendship could survive that (referring to their youth) -- it's out here that it gets tough."

The four girls in this photo have survived our childhood friendship with each other for over 3 decades. And this weekend, we have set aside a few days for our girlfriend reunion. Deb, Jan and I have done this for eons -- some years more than others. For the first time, our friend Lynn will also join us. We lost contact with Lynn for a while and are now making up for lost time.

It's not fair to give them labels but I'm going to do it anyway.

Lynn is the funny one. As young girls, she was also the brave one. I never know what will come out of her mouth. Last night she told me she was so excited about this weekend, she felt like "a d**k on a date." Not quite the phrase I would have chosen but I'm equally excited.

Deb is the serene one. People might think she's shy or quiet but she's not. She's just smart enough to assess people and situations to avoid putting her foot in her mouth. Under the surface is the teenager I remember. We all revert to high school when we gather.

Jan wears her heart on her sleeve. She would've made a great Miss America -- her passions have always been children and animals. (Plus I"m pretty sure she wants world peace too.) She also holds the unenviable position of the first person I call for almost any crisis or disaster -- real or imagined.

We all have a little bit of crossover. We can all be funny but we're not quite as "out there" as Lynn. We all have a hesitant or shy side but I'm not sure we do it with Deb's studious style. We all try to be kind but we won't measure up to Jan. We shouldn't even try.

My oldies are a little paranoid. They have heard me talk of these reunions for years and they know no topic or question is off limits. They are convinced that we might discuss them a bit. Hmmm ...

So, I toast my golden friends as I count the days until I get to spend a little while in celebration of love and laughter.