Midnight Cliff

39 Today

2010-07-05T14:55:27Z

I hadn’t intended on writing a birthday post…didn’t even bring a laptop here to Florida. But this fancy schmancy new phone makes it possible. And I feel so blessed to be alive, so thankful to be me. So here I am, typing on a tiny keyboard in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping.

But I fell asleep on the couch with the TV still on and woke up to find a movie I first viewed with my Mom on my birthday (after a Chinese meal that left us both with sides that hurt from laughter and a serious appreciation of hot peppers). Mom insisted that even though she had already seen Thelma and Louise, it was still the movie we *had* to see that day. She wasn’t sure when our schedules would again make it possible for us to get to the theater together and it was important to her that we saw it on the big screen, larger than life. Mom loved strong women and felt strongly (absolutely demanded) that I needed to view Thelma and Louise. Despite the ending, we both left that theater practically bursting with joy at just being women, just being alive. It instantly shot to my top five list of favorite flicks.

Waking up a bit ago to find TBS showing Thelma and Louise on my birthday is yet another in my life’s incredible synchronicities. Especially when I throw in the fact that both women in the flick picked up new hats and this weekend both Britt and I also bought hats.

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One doesn’t hang out with Britt for any length of time without being forced to look in a mirror every once in a while. She is an inquisitive creature, always seeking to be the best person she can be, taking traits / habits she appreciates from those around her (whereas I just sort of stagger blindly though my life, content in the knowledge that I am happy, content and not hurting anyone, but never bothering to attempt to improve me).

So the questions come…do you have any insecurities, how did you get to be so confident, is being a strong (single) woman really about relying only on yourself, are you really that confident, etc. I never think of these things, but I have to sort of self analyze in order to respond and hold up my end of the conversation, otherwise there would be an awkward silence, ya know? Even if it feels strange to talk about myself all “wahoo, I fucking rock and you should all be like me, raise your kids to be like me and oh by the way, I have no fucking clue how I got to be the way I am” I find myself pondering questions that I never ask myself.

Today I realized (yet again…slow learner!) that it really all does go back to Mom and God. I will never be alone because God is always with me (I don’t need to be in a pretty building to communicate with him) and my Momma was a pretty damned tremendous woman who gave me gifts I never realized she was giving.

July 5th is my birthday. The one thing I want with all my heart is to hug my Mom tightly and say thank you. She not only gave me life 39 years ago, but Mom ensured I would live with a grateful heart and a happy song as my journey’s soundtrack. I miss her desperately.

Especially since she would have not only appreciated the creativity and talent that it took to make the stained glass effect Independence Day shirt I am wearing in this photo, but she would look at me with those Mom eyes and say I look beautiful (“on anyone else, no…but you? Absolutely beautiful!”).

May you all have someone who looks at you and always sees your best.

Cruisin’

2010-06-23T21:16:50Z

Got an invite from a friend to go on her friend’s boat for the evening. I haven’t been out on my beloved rivers in a boat in ages. This afternoon I feel all giddy, like a kid awaiting Christmas morning.

I’ll try to get some decent photos and post them.

Because Twitter just isn’t enough!

P.S. Yes, I post a bunch on Twitter instead of here. If you aren’t following me, why?

EDIT: Oh yeah…just like that, plans change. Seems the storms showed up sooner than we expected. Instead of being out on the water during the lightening show, we’ll do dinner and act like idiots elsewhere. See, Twitter would have been the better placce for this announcement. heehee

Remembering

2010-06-21T00:43:58Z

With love, to Dawg.

Still Not Here

2010-05-09T13:07:39Z

I have so much to share and yet absolutely nothing to to talk about. A while ago an ugly internet situation (which didn’t even involve me) reinforced how much this community of “friends” can turn on you if you make a mistake and people don’t agree with how you handle the aftermath. The power of the written word is mighty. I watched in horror as folks took to anonymity in order to slam and talk about a few others, saying dreadful things which didn’t even pertain to the original situation, all from the safety of behind their keyboard.

Most seemed to think that because two people blog and share lots that somehow they MUST share everything. It was as though because someone chooses to share about lots of good things and a few flaws that somehow they were expected to share every flaw…in detail. So many people not only expected it, but actually demanded it.

It wasn’t the first time I saw it happen. The first time crushed my heart and made me doubt that I would ever blog again. I wailed online about the injustice, the name calling, the bullshit of it all. This time? This time still broke my heart, but it also took a lot of wind out of my sails. More than I realized, it crushed my spirit.

So I guess I mentioned that situation and how it made me feel in some sort of way to explain why Midnight Cliff has been on the silent side. But yes, I am alive and actually quite happy. In the past month that I haven’t posted here I’ve been to a Bags, Bellinis and Brunch fundraiser where I bought a new license plate purse from Little Earth, I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with Coal Miner’s Granddaughter and Copasetic Beth, I’ve been enjoying the Penguins playoff series, I’ve had a trip to Nashville canceled as a result of the terrible flooding, I’ve had the pleasure of being gifted with a VIP ticket to the Wine Festival where I consumed wine with a price tag of over $600 per bottle, I’ve attended my favorite trade show and partied with some tremendous people, I’ve laughed so hard at Benihana that my sides hurt, I’ve enjoyed the 90th birthday party for my dear great aunt, I’ve had hot dates, I’ve spent incredible time outside with the dogs, I’ve dined with fellow bloggers, I’ve had followup testing to confirm that February’s surgery healed properly, I’ve started planning my 40th birthday adventure to Alaska for next summer, I’ve enjoyed the Kentucky Derby, I’ve booked a cooking class, I’ve been thrilled to hear that a friend was invited to speak at BlogHer, I’ve started planning my next adventure in Kentucky, I’ve had heartache, I’ve had questions, I’ve celebrated Cinco de Mayo, I’ve dreaded Mother’s Day, I’ve searched for contractors to put a new roof on my house and to rebuild my falling down fence, I’ve enjoyed time with family and friends, I’ve accomplished lots at work, I’ve considered painting my house, I’ve welcomed spring as over 50 robins worm hunting signaled it FINALLY arrived, I’ve dined on gourmet food, I’ve been involved with planning committee meetings for a fun raising golf outing and I’ve done lots more.

But none of it seems to make me want to write about it. There are some fun stories in those things that I’ve done in the past month. Twitter has given me an outlet to share some of it, but I just don’t feel like sharing here. Maybe because I know that no matter how positive I am and no matter how I try to do the right things, well, maybe someday the Internet will demand more from me than I want to give. Maybe the Internet will find some mistake I made and not agree with how I choose to handle it so they will decide to pick up their torches and pitchforks instead of just talking to me about it so that we can work through it.

I know I’m rambling, which is kind of funny for a post where I tell you I have no desire to write. Not sure what to do about that. Guess basically I’ll wrap up with this: I’m happy and healthy, enjoying life, but have zero writing mojo.

Hope it returns. I do still love this little blog.

Happiness

2010-04-08T02:11:15Z

You guys always praise my outlook, my disposition, whatever you want to call it…but you always say how positive and upbeat I am. Well I’m here to tell you what makes me cranky (like WAY cranky).

Heat.

I am so not a hot weather girl. My dream vacation is Alaska, not Hawaii. I love winter. Not once did you hear me complain about the snow drifts over four feet tall, never did I utter a negative word about the well below freezing temperatures. But today? When it is 81 degrees in my house at 10 PM? Entirely too fucking hot.

[Small interjection to say that I might blame the heat for pushing me over the edge when I went to comment on my friend Adam's blog the other day. I seriously lost my shit on the poor man. Sure, I feel passionately about the subject of water and recycling, but still, this not-a-rant-kind-of-girl *totally* went on a rant. Sorry about that. And I still love you, Adam! Especially when it isn't 80+ degrees!]

Normally I would crank my air conditioning down to 68 and be happy, but dammit, I refuse to turn on the air in early April. Especially since tomorrow is predicted to be a comfy 66 or so. Instead of turning on the whole house air conditioning I have three ceiling fans and two large box type fans going. And I came here to bitch.

Which just somehow reminded me of the other things that make me cranky: being hungry or being tired. And woooo, child, Lord help you if there is any combination of hot, tired and hungry! heehee

BUT…and here’s the thing…this post isn’t about me being hot (thankfully I am well rested and just had a fantastic dinner excursion). This post is about something that IS making me crazy happy: Coal Miner’s Granddaughter, Heather.

Friday morning I’ll head to the airport entirely too early and transfer planes in Charlotte so that I can arrive before 11 AM in Atlanta, GA. I have business there, but thankfully will have some down time on Friday to enjoy the company of one of the most interesting and amazing women I know. I’m thrilled. And willing to brave the Atlanta heat for the pleasure of Heather’s company. Best part? I won’t even notice the heat. THAT should tell you something about how incredible she is.

Gift

2010-04-06T01:40:54Z

If you follow me on Twitter you know that Monday night I took the dogs for a walk. Well, actually I took the German Shepherd for a long walk as his vet says his hips need the exercise, then I went back to the house and swapped Ludo out for Reilly as his beautiful little self loves to explore. After that, when I knew the novelty had worn off, I went back to the house and got Lou again so that all three of us could get out together. It was wonderful. And I learned a few things on this little adventure.

First, if I ever want to pick up men, just take the German dog with me. Not sure what it is, but damn, guys love a shepherd.

Second, not only am I out of shape, but so are both of my boys. Sheesh! All three of us were panting by the time we made it home. That photo up there is of them collapsed after our adventure.

Third, Pittsburgh is damn hilly. Ok, I totally knew that one already, but did I mention the heavy breathing? Yeah, there sure as shit was a reason. After the flood in 2004 that forced me to move and get new shit I looked for a place that wasn’t in any valley or near a creek (pronounced “crick”) and lemme tell you people, I fucking succeeded. If water rises enough to get me at the top of this hill, ya better have an ark.

Fourth, Finn also doesn’t like the phrase “you people” and it now makes me smile to sneak it in places. Like in that last paragraph. You should see the smile on my face. (Sorry, pretty lady!)

Fifth, the not quite all there/mentally disturbed guy that I was so happy to Tweet about the other day is friendlier than I imagined. While he smiles and waves when I do as I drive by, I have also seen him yelling at cars as he sits on the curb and smokes hand rolled cigarette after cigarette. Ludo and I walked up that far so I smiled and nodded hello as we approached. He smiled back. I stepped off the curb so as to not shove a German Shepherd in his face, but he held out his hand while still seated and asked if he could pet the dog. “Sure. Lou, be good, be nice. And behave, dammit!”

Dog made me proud, even extending a friendly lick hello. The guy remained seated, still smoking an unlit, half gone cigarette and complimented Lou’s behavior. Then he reached into one of the several bags beside him and pulled out something small which he held out to me. Looking down into his kind eyes I took the offering. It was a medallion, not even an inch long, made of a thin silver material and stamped “Italy” on the back with Mary on the front. I believe in Jesus and basic Christian principles, but I never could get into the whole pray to Mary thing…I talk to God, thanks. Regardless, I smiled and commented on it being Italian.

The guy was really nice, didn’t try to preach to me, didn’t ask anything of me, just gave me the small medallion and said that he hopes it brings me miracles. I went on my way with a little extra bounce in my step because some strange man wishes miracles for me. So I guess I am saying I also learned that strangers still can happily surprise me.

(medallion is now attached to Ludo’s collar)

Dumping the A Drive

2010-03-16T01:43:13Z

My Mom used to save all kinds of stuff to give to me when we would get together again. Maybe magazine articles, feathers she found, little items she picked up in her travels, etc. Didn’t matter what the pile contained, Mom called it her A Drive. When we would get together the first thing she had to do was “dump her a drive” and give me everything, telling me about each item. It usually drove me nuts because there was fun to be had and dammit she was slowing us down. Now? Wellllll, I miss it desperately. Which, of course, means that I am now picking up where she left off…prepare to be dumped upon…

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The other day the fantastic Heather (Coal Miner’s Granddaughter) wrote a post about breast milk cheese and cooking with breast milk. Human breast milk. I kind of surprised myself when I realized that I wasn’t all that grossed out at the concept. Not really grossed out at all, actually.

So while washing the dishes (I don’t have a dishwasher, I *am* the dishwasher) my mind started off on its own. That is usually a dangerous thing, but I tend to do some of my best thinking while doing dishes or showering. Maybe it is the water, maybe it’s the solitude with no tv or music. Ount know. Point is I started thinking of stuff that grosses me out. The highest on the list? Someone else using my toothbrush or me using theirs. BLECH! Even if I were on Survivor and the gorgeous Colby Donaldson offered to share I would have to turn him down. I’d rather use a branch and gnaw on that for a bit than share a toothbrush. Just can’t handle the idea. (Although Colby, if you are reading, I’d fuck you even without the toothbrush…call me.)

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I read about a guy who is going to be in the hospital for a long time and how his friends are trying to get him lots of mail. Immediately I grabbed a card and had coworkers sign it, addressed it and dropped it in the mail. Over the coming weeks I plan on sending this dude all kinds of silly stuff. You should consider it, too. Read about it HERE.

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On a totally different note, soon I will be on a plane to drink myself into a gutter for the HHD (High Holy Day = St. Patrick’s Day). My early AM flight will have me hearing the crack of dawn the morning of the 17th, but I plan to sleep the whole way to Alabama. The completely awesome Kim (from Live at the 205) will pick me up at the airport and then Birmingham should just look out because we might drink our faces off. The next day, once we find our faces, we shall drive south to Florida. I’m really looking forward to the getaway. She is truly an amazing woman and rumor has it other bloggers will also be joining us. Should be terrific. BUT, I’m not taking my laptop so who knows if I will be able to post. Sure, she is bringing hers, and it is a coveted Apple(!), but since I don’t know how to work it you might not hear from me for a few days.

Also, I can’t find my bathing suit so please send names of nude beaches.

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So, my friend Earl posted a video that cracked me up. Seems his friend made it. They want others to see and enjoy. So here ya go:

And if you have a blog, maybe consider posting it?

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I think that is it for now. Happy day. Enjoy it.

Down From The Air (or “How I used to enjoy the Hurler”)

2010-03-15T02:06:18Z

Hi. It’s me. No, not hellohahanarf. I’m a friend. Or rather — she is. She’s lending me out some blog space semi-anonymously, and I appreciate it. This is the second in a series of posts about my journey as someone who is being let go from a job which I’ve had for the past ten years. You can find the first post here.

First and foremost: thanks to all of you for your support thus far. It’s a bit of a struggle for me, and I truly am in a good place with some wonderful family and friends both online and in the flesh. You’re helping to make a tough time for me not so tough.

I used to be a huge fan of “Wayne’s World.” No joke. I loved the sketch on SNL the first time it aired, and I tracked them through the making of and release of the feature-length movie — which I saw the weekend that it opened in theaters. I laughed out loud at the revolutionary notion that the narrative could poke fun at itself. (“Garth! That was a haiku!” And the scene with Robert Patrick reprising his police officer facade from Terminator 2. Among others…) It used to be the coolest thing in college to sing Bohemian Rhapsody and start head-banging after the choral part.

So — when the local Paramount-branded theme park decided to open up a new roller coaster called “The Hurler,” I was intrigued. Excited. Especially since the surrounding area would be themed with Wayne’s World attractions — such as Stan Mikita’s donut shop. When I went through the queue for the coaster for the first time, I was amazed: the ongoing video monitors were all Wayne and Garth patter about safety on the ride. Everything looked like Wayne’s basement. It was bliss.

It was similar to the sensation I felt when I walked into the interview for my current job. It started a bit awkwardly: I had spoken with the company recruiter, Dan, on the phone. I entered the lobby and called him; he said he’d be down to greet me shortly. Moments later I heard someone call out my first name; I exchanged a handshake and followed him. His voice sounded different on the phone than it did in person. We walked down the corridors as he talked a bit about job responsibilities that had absolutely nothing to do with anything I had put on my resume.

Turns out that my first name is a pretty common first name. And that the person I was following was not, in fact, Dan. Or at least the same Dan I had been talking to for days before. We both had assumed we were someone else. Oops…

Anyway — I rushed back to the lobby and found Dan. The real Dan. We had a good laugh about it as he gave me the tour of the place. This was a telecommunications company in a flashy, new building that had just been built. It was the turn of the new millennium, and the place had the feel of the next one.

He brought me to an alcove on the third floor. There was what appeared to be a whiteboard next to us. He flicked a switch and the alcove lights dimmed. The whiteboard switched transparent — and I saw the network operations center below. It was beautiful. It looked like NASA’s mission control — great big screens in the front of the room with graphs and information rolling by. I recognized CNN and the Weather Channel taking up some of the real estate. Behind it were rows of engineers at state-of-the-art workstations — two computers at each desk. People were collaborating. This looked like a great place to work.

And after two days of interviews? I was offered a job. I worked in that very network center at one of those flashy workstations. In fact, I work there now.

I went back to visit that theme park a few years ago. Since then, the Paramount name has been stripped off of everything. The Hurler is still there, but any and all references to Wayne’s World have been removed. Who can blame them? The movie certainly didn’t stand up to the test of time. It contained too many references to icons of a static moment of time. I suppose the expectation was that it would last forever. But going through that path to get on the coaster, barren from any indications that made it any different from any other sleazy looking carnival ride, was a bit depressing — in that I had seen it so differently a decade earlier. Sure — there was no line this time around, no forty-five minute wait to get on. But then again — there was no line. Nobody wanted to ride the Hurler.

Which is how I see my very own network center. In 1999, this was state of the art: Giant video screens up front. New computers — UNIX and Windows — with screens embedded in the desks. Television monitors suspended from the ceilings in the back. But since then, technology has evolved and the corporate climate has receded. Tough, financial times for the company coupled with internal company politics made it impossible to keep those video screens on in front without footing an enormous bill — one which nobody was willing to pay. The televisions still hanging from the ceilings are old and outdated and show everything with a tinge of green. (Some of them have been removed, the empty brackets still hanging there.) The hardware that was built into the furniture had been so outdated that it was simply abandoned, new screens simply having been placed awkwardly on the desk in front of them.

Worst of all — when I started there, the center was full. Every desk was occupied at all times of the day. With so many reorganizations, cutbacks, layoffs and people voluntarily moving on, most of the seats are empty. There had been rumors of renovating the entire place and upgrading it with new equipment, and we were in the dark as to where they would move us for the time being. We now know the answer to that — our group will be long gone before that ever happens. Ultimately they’ll scrap the place, rebuild it, and probably find another group to fill it. That could take months. Years even.

But the depressing part is the memory of what this place looked like ten years ago. The possibilities. The flashing lights. The notion that I could work in that room and feel like I’ve entered the future. The room, however, hasn’t grown with us. It’s been stagnant. It has decayed. It’s no longer relevant.

The problem is — I can’t help but feeling the same way. My job is moving to a different place for cost-cutting measures. To keep the company competitive. The notion of using us — the existing group in our area — is too expensive. Not lean enough. Hence — stagnant. No longer relevant and no longer needed.

I watched “Up In The Air” this week. Not a smart move on my part, and I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who has very recently been let go. Perhaps I thought that it would be more of a comfort for me, the camaraderie of many people who are fired by George Clooney in the film. (Interestingly enough, many of those who played employees losing their jobs in the film were actually people who had recently been let go from their jobs.) Their reactions to that meeting where they’re all told, point blank. that they are being terminated prompts many familiar responses. “Why? What did I do wrong?” “Can I have another chance?” “What am I going to do?” “Fuck you!” “This company will fail without me!”

For me, I suppose, the sticking issue is relevance. I’ve spent ten years amassing a great deal of knowledge for a very comprehensive job. I am, in no uncertain terms, a “go-to” within my workplace. A subject matter expert. And I know that I can pick things up rather quickly. I’m useful in my job. I’m missed when I’m not there. Hell, I carry a work cel phone for the times that my expertise is required when I’m on-call.

But I’ve just been made less useful. Even if I enter a new position in the same field, I’m not going to be the subject matter expert, the veteran who can help others out. I won’t be as impacting. As useful. There’s a scene which accentuates this is “Up In The Air” where George Clooney’s character finally sees himself as someone who, on some levels, is not useful. Who doesn’t have that same value. Whose services and talents really are not needed. And it’s the worst thing in the world.

Perhaps there’s a bit of narcissism in the way I feel. I am good at my job. I like that feeling of being the one people come to for help. I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but it hurts to think that for some reason that’s being taken away from me and from my group. I fear that I’ll be the person who really doesn’t need to be there. The one who doesn’t make a difference. And that I’ll fade away into the background — even within the confines of a new job.

I don’t want to become the roller coaster with no line.

What is So Wrong About a Little Sparkle

2010-03-12T03:58:47Z

So the other day, on my beloved cousin’s birthday, I happened to mention finding a photo of her in which her hair was all WOW. But instead of saying her hair was all WOW and oh my fuck, I wish I could rock that, perhaps I said something in the comments like it was all “Edward the vampire” and totally adorable. Regardless, Janie was oh so not impressed.

Let’s not fight with her over the validity of the Twilight books and movies. Instead, let’s discuss whether or not she was 20 years ahead of Edward’s hairstylist:

(Yes, that is Janie on the far right. Be nice, she is my cousin and friend. I’ve been known to throw punches in her honor. (She doesn’t know about them. Shhhh.) Also? How could you not be nice to a crazy teenager in the 80’s? She is damn cute! (Fuck. She probably hates the word “cute” and yet I’ve been drinking so FUCK IT, I’m hitting publish, even with all of the commas and parenthesis, even without a proofread. COZ I CAN! God bless America. And the Internet.)

Some Call Them Weeds

2010-03-08T00:56:19Z

The other day I posted a poem that I first read in high school. It has been on my mind a bit since then, mostly because of the one line:

Did you look for a rose
Or just gather a weed?

I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I do, in fact, gather weeds. But not the way the poem makes them out to be negative things. Quite the contrary, I find certain weeds incredibly positive. Specifically dandelions.

Yes, dandelions. I think they are beautiful. Simple and pretty. Yet just because they are hearty and desire to grow anywhere people hate them. If they were fragile and rare, people would lovingly care for them in greenhouses. Instead the dandelion is sprayed with poison and cursed.

When I first bought my little house I did what I thought was the right thing and hired a company to come spread chemicals on my grass in order to make it green and lush. Towards the end of the first year of monthly chemicals my grass was gorgeous. I called the company to make a payment over the phone and I happened to mention to the lady on the phone that my “boys” (boys = dogs) were already out rolling around and playing on the grass. She got very nervous and asked if they were wearing shoes. Of course I could honestly answer no and I was immediately told that I shouldn’t let my children play shoeless on the grass.

Well what the fuck? I can’t put shoes on my dogs. And what about my beloved robins…those happy little hunters who were eating worms right out of my gorgeous grass? Was I accidentally poisoning my dogs and favorite birds? Fuck that. I canceled that company’s services right there on the spot. Keep your fucking chemicals, bring on the brown spots and weeds.

It was a little while after that when I realized that I actually prefer my yard to have dandelions. Dandelions are welcome at my home. They remind me to be tenacious, to bloom wherever the hell I want, regardless of what others think. Some might call dandelions weeds, but I call them flowers. I have a collection of small bud vases and in the summer I will actually pick dandelions from my yard and bring their sunshiney happiness inside, just the way I did as a child, before someone told me they were weeds and pests.

Actually, I have a little of their brightness inside all year long. This watercolor hangs in my kitchen, on the door:

So do me a favor. Next time before you get angry when you see a dandelion in your yard, ask yourself why it bothers you so. Ask yourself what is so wrong with a small flower fighting to survive and show you the color of the sun. Try to see the beauty in the simpleness of the dandelion.

I just ask that you pause to consider beauty in a manner that is slightly nontraditional. After you take that moment, I won’t be terribly upset if you don’t see my sweet little sunshine in the same way I do, but I will truly appreciate that you gave the dandelion a chance.