Poignant Memories

Thanks to an injury, I spent several weeks at the beginning of the year lying on my sofa with my feet elevated above my heart. To alleviate the sheer boredom that came from lying around doing nothing, I decided to invite my mother over so we could finally tackle the task of sorting through the photos in the 70+ albums my grandparents left behind when they died.

I saw some old photos I don’t think I’ve seen before like the maternal grandmother of my maternal grandmother and a picture of my mother with her long-time bestfriend that was taken when they were both in junior high.

There were also, perhaps, a couple of hundred photos of me with my family at the pool at my grandparents old home. That house was sold when I was in college, and I had forgotten how many memories were associated with the pool.

My maternal grandparents had an old home with a huge backyard that included a large pool and an “old school” pool house. It had a large play area along with a tiny, tiny bathroom. There was a storage shed in the back with our toys and flotation devices.

My mother, father, brother and I would pile into the car practically every weekend to spend the day outside by the pool. When I was younger, I was no fan of the water. I would have to be carried to the water where I would cling to my mother like a barnacle to a ship.

As I became older and less timid, I swam on my own. My brother and I would run around and scream and laugh.

Every once in a while, godparents and aunts and uncles and cousins would join us. There would be barbeque and games and swimming contests and lots of laughter.

I learned to skate in the backyard, using the concrete around the pool as the smooth, flat surface that was best for learning on those old metal skates.

My childhood bestfriend and I exchanged friendship bracelets after she came over one afternoon early into our friendship.

It’s interesting because today many parents would throw up their hands in horror at the thought of young children wearing floaties or skating on the concrete around a pool while wearing heavy metal skates.

However, these memories are among some of my post poignant memories from my childhood and I would not change them for anything in the world.

My Favorite Holiday

My favorite holiday is New Year’s Day. For me, the New Year is not just a chance to start over anew but also a time to celebrate my life since my birthday falls around this time.

What's the worst job you ever held, and why was it so awful?

The worst job I have ever was when I worked at an IT project manager for a mid-sized company in Wichita. Working there was like being transported back in the 1950s.

Shortly after I started, I found out that a report went out of anyone who checked in after 8AM. I was running a few minutes late one morning due to a dead battery. I called my supervisor who warned me to be half an hour late so that I would not get written up for tardiness. Apparently, anything after half an hour was seen as something that was probably excused and so not investigated. If I had known they were prone to such tight-assed nonsense I never would have accepted the offer.

I also had a rather heated debate a lunch one day with coworkers (actually, it was rather one-sided because I refused to argue with them) over Anna-Nicole Smith. Apparently, everyone at the company hated her because the President/Owner did. He hated her because her deceased husband had been a friend of his family and he felt Anna-Nicole was a gold-digger.

J. Howard Marshall looked like death on a stick when they married. If Anna-Nicole let that withered old man touch her then not only does she deserve every dime, but she also deserves an Academy Award. After all, I have seen her speak and watched her in motion. I am pretty damn sure that J. Howard Marshall did not marry Anna-Nicole for her sparkling wit and scintillating personality.

Any way, I stated my case along with the fact that wealthy old men can avoid gold-diggers by marrying women their own age, but my coworkers were having none of it. Apparently, the President/Owner of the company felt a certain way and so everyone else must too. Whatever. I have my own opinions.

Not surprisingly, my first performance evaluation went rather poorly. When I protested, I was called into the office by my bosses’ boss and told it was not my place to question the opinion of my betters (exact words). I mentally checked out that second and handed in my resignation a few months later.

Every once in a while, one of them tries to connect with me on Facebook or LinkedIn. I always refuse.

Holiday Cheer

The office Christmas Party and gift exchange was yesterday. I ended up leaving work early due to a power outage; it's hard to work in complete darkness. The owner sent us out of the office early; everyone decided to go the restaurant and sit in the bar...at least I thought that was the plan.

I was the first person there by about half an hour. Now, there's nothing that screams, "I am a loser with no friends," like sitting at a table in the bar by yourself and reading a book. This is what I would have ended updoing as I literally had nothing to do. Instead of heading in the bar, I sat by the window and gazed out longingly for my coworkers. I was just about ready to give up and go to the bar to see if I could find someone that did not mind me sitting at their table when Richard showed up.

He looked rather uncomfortable when he saw it was just me, but I ran over and grabbed him anyway so that he had no choice but to keep me company until everyone else arrived. I am aware that Richard is a (not out) gay male, and I got the feeling that he was afraid I would try and hit on him. I quickly steered the topic of conversation to safe topics like travel to make him feel comfortable.

After about an hour of me pulling out every travel anecdote I could think of, another colleague showed up with her partner. I breathed an internal sigh of relief and did mental cartwheels when sat down to join us. Thank goodness as my conversation topics would shortly have been tapped as dry as the Los Angeles River during drought center. Most of my coworkers showed up after that, and we went into our private room for the party.

We started off the evening with appetizers, wine, and the white elephant gift exchange. I was the only one that brought a gag gift. As predicted I got a laugh, but not as big a one as I had hoped. My gift was opened by the only other woman working in the office. I'm sure I would have gotten a much bigger chuckle had one of the guys opened it. Predictably, no one would trade with her.

Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer

Background: Our office, which is predominately male, has a white elephant gift exchange every year during the holidays. This is my first year with the company. Per Wikipedia, a white elephant gift exchange is a popular party game where gifts are exchanged that are typically inexpensive, humorous items or used items from home and sometimes, they are just plain trash; the term white elephant refers to a gift whose cost exceeds its usefulness.

I've participated in white elephants before. They're fun as long as people abid by the rules. I've been to parties where people get quite emotional when their gift is stolen. I caused a frenzy myself when I brought a back massager (it had been deeply discounted on sale) to the white elephant gift exchange.

I asked around to get a feel for how past white elephant were handled. It seems that about 20% of the gifts are gag gifts. The other presents are quite nice.

This year, I decided to bring a gag gift. I originally looked for a carved, wooden Jesus. I preferred one that either lit up and/or played Christmas music. I had no luck. I perused Nordstrom.com until I found something that would also deliver a laugh, a Bella Band. I cackled like Baba Yaga just ordering it.

I purchased a Bella Band for a pregnant friend of mine. She loved hers. However, my office is heavily male, and most of them are in their early to mid-twenties. Trust me, their significant others won't be using the Bella Band anytime soon.

I am embarrassed to know

I am in the process of getting caught up on my blog entries for the Blogger's Blog Tour. During the week of September 15 our blog topic was: What one thing you are embarrassed to know?

I remember reading an article a while ago that was a rebuttal to an ultra-conservative piece about how children should not be adopted by same-sex couples because they would be damaged by being raised under such conditions. The author of the rebuttal piece argued that children would we "damaged" by any notion of their parents' sexuality, regardless of whether those parents were the same gender or different genders.

This is so true.

When I was in high school, I operated under the happy delusion that my parents had sex the exact number of times it took to conceive my brother and I - two. As a grown up, I would say that - if pressed - I wish my mother and father fulfilling sex lives, but that I have no desire to know anything beyond that.

What does this have to do with what I am embarrassed to know?

In 2007, when it became clear that my father was not going to be able to return to his house, I began the massive task of sorting through his belongings. The house had been trashed by a crackhead that took up residence while my father was in the hospital (long story). While much of the furniture was gone, there were a lot of things scattered everywhere.

My nephews came to help so that we could get done faster.

I was sorting through a stack of odds and ends in the master bedroom when I came across my father's sex toys. What makes matters worse was that I gave a little shriek when I ran across his stash (I won't say what it was that I grabbed), so my nephews came running to see what had frightened me. They arrived just in time to find it in my hand with me trying to stuff it in the garbage bag and failing miserably. To this day, they get a kick out of recounting that story.

What am I embarrassed to know? I am embarrassed to be privy to the type of sex toys my father prefers.

Biggest Faux Pas

I am in the process of getting caught up on my blog entries for the Blogger's Blog Tour. During the week of September 8 our blog topic was: What is the biggest faux pas you've ever committed?

I reached back in my memory for anything that would make me cringe in embarrassment but that was not too mortifying to post. There are some stories that don't need to be told, even in a fairly anonymous blog.

It should be mentioned that I was a fairly spoiled child. My parents were not rich, but we were quite comfortable. Add that to the fact that I was generally well-behaved, especially in comparison to my rambunctious brother, and you'll see that I had a lot of privileges as a child. My mother and father certainly set boundaries, but there were times when my behavior went way over line.

Picture it. Los Angeles. 1979. My cousins and I attended the same elementary school. My aunt would pick us up from school. There were six of us kids in all, and we would wait at my aunt and uncle's house until our parents came to claim us. My aunt is a very soft-spoken and petite woman. She corrects with a quiet gentleness. It is this technique she used to tell me that my ears were in need of attention from a Q-tip.

I have no recollection of why this set me off so much. All I know is that I went into a screaming, tantrum at this suggestion. I kicked my aunt and called her a liar before going into full meltdown. Or rather, I started to go into full meltdown. My tantrum came to a complete halt when my uncle scooped me up from the floor by my neck (he had come home early from work and had entered the house without me noticing it) and began delivering a brisk spanking.

The spanking did not last long, but my backside ached for quite some time afterwards and my mortification lingered as well. I was sent to the basement (it was a rec room) to sit in the corner and contemplate the error of ways. To this day, I kind of cringe in horror when I think of my actions because my aunt is such a genuinely kind woman; it was a horrible way to treat her.

Worst Diet Food

Last week, we had a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What is the worst diet food you've ever been served?

The first time I really started to plump up was when I was in high school. In response to my burgeoning waist line, my parents removed the high calorie snack food from the house - not that there was much to begin with - and replaced it with rice cakes.

Nowadays, Quaker Oats makes rice cakes come in yummy flavors such as apple cinnamon, peanut butter, etc. Back in the 1980s, the favors were a little more limited and a little more bland. Rice cakes were the Model T of the snack food world in that you could have any flavor you wanted so long as that flavor was plain.

The rice cakes we had in our house were bland, seriously bland. The air in the roof of my mouth had more flavor, and those rice cakes were actually tastier than the worst diet food I have ever been served.

The worst diet food I have ever been served is a Nutrisystem's Chicken Breast Patty. It should be said that, for diet food, Nutrisystem does a good job of providing low-calorie meals. Some of the food is tolerable and some of the food is quite yummy. The Chicken Breast Patty, however, is just flat out gross.

What's inside the package looks *nothing* like the photo on the outside, and it tastes like flavored rubber. The first time I tasted the Chicken Breast Patty, I took one bit, chewed maybe three times, spit it out, threw everything in the trash, and went to the cafeteria for a turkey burger.

My Super Power

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What would your super power?

Given all my responsibilities right now, I would have to say that my super power would either be speed (e.g. Flash from DC Comics) or the ability to change my physical appearance (e.g. Mystique from Marvel Comics).

Having super speed would give me enough time to accomplish everything I have to do - sell my father's house, go through the remaining items that used to belong to my grandmother - and still have time for a social life. Plus, think of all the money I could save on gas by running at the speed of light to work as opposed to driving in. I would have time for a social life and to work out.

Speaking of working out, I would love to have the ability change my physical appearance. I could keep myself fit and trim without having to work out or reduce my food intake. Mystique rocks the skin-tight spandex. I could achieve the same look with minimal effort. Ha!

Plans for the Summer

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What are your plans for the summertime?

I have fallen a bit behing on the Blogger's Blog Tour so I will be posting three entries today.

While I have several scheduled events (e.g. Family Reunion) this summer, my main plan is rather nebulous. I want to, once and for all, get through the remaining major tasks I have for my father so that I can have my life back.

Last year around Memorial Day weekend I completely revamped my budget so that I would have more free cash for things like the local film festivals. Shortly thereafter, I got a phone call that my father was in intensive care and my costs have spiraled upward.

I want to be done with this so that I can have my social life back and stop spending so much money.

Reading is Fundamental

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: Tell us about one book that changed your life.

Feel free to post your own answer in the comment box, and let me know what you think of mine.

I cannot answer this exactly because I don't have any one book that changed my life. Nearly every book I have read has left some sort of impact, even those books I put down in disgust. Let me explain.

I was a painfully shy child. I interacted well with family and people that I was used to, but strangers? I would hide behind my mother when someone I did not know tried to greet me. The unfortunate thing is that I did not want to be shy, but contact with people I did not know would cause me to become tongue-tied and inevitably I would shrink away in fear.

Books were an escape. They were a place to go where I could be brave (Nancy Drew series), choose my own path (Choose Your Own Adventure series), dream of a different world (The Chronicles of Narnia), or thank God that I was born when I was to parents that loved me (The Color Purple - my mother was not too pleased about this one because she felt it was way too advanced for a 9 year old, and it was).

I've forgotten the names of most of the novels I read as a child, but not what they've given me. Books gave me the courage to start talking to other people and keep talking until I conquered my shyness. Books gave me a common avenue of discussion for my friends. We could go on for hours about Sweet Valley High, Elizabeth and Jessica.

Books taught me that even nerds can captivate nations (Harry Potter series), that even the most mediocre novel can become a best seller with a controversial subject (Satanic Verses), that adults are not always right (the Grounding of Group Six), that good does not always win (Will There Really Be a Morning?), to choose my employers carefully (The Devil Wears Prada), and the importance of managing my money for tomorrow (The Millionaire Next Door)

Just for the smell of it

We have a new question for the Blogger's Blog Tour: What’s your favourite smell in the world and why?

Feel free to post your own answer in the comment box, and let me know what you think of mine.

I was born without the ability to breath through my nose. My adenoids were enlarged and blocked my breathing passage. Like most babies, I took my first breath through my mouth. Unlike most children, I kept breathing through my mouth until I was 7 years old and a doctor removed my adenoids (along with my tonsils).

The impact of not being able to breath through my nose for my formative years was quite profound. My family would comment on the wonderful smell of bread baking or the scent of the roasted turkey in the oven. I would be unable to comment. I used to try and inhale scent through my mouth. It never worked, and made me the butt of some particularly cruel taunts and pranks at school.

Mealtimes were especially bad for me; each time I took a bite and chewed I felt like I was suffocating. My parents taught me to take smaller bites so I could chew with my mouth closed, but to this day I chew as rapidly as possible due the need to get food out of my mouth. I also have to watch myself so that I don't inadvertently open my mouth.

After the surgery, a whole new world was opened for me. I could smell my grandmother cooking, and she made a mean bread pudding. For the first time, I became hungry at the smell of food. I also discovered why it's a good idea to sometimes let the bathroom air out once someone has been in there a long time.

What’s my favorite smell? Everything.

The answer is odd because, while there are certainly scents that I do not like, deep inside me lurks the little girl who did not care that the dog poo was stinky. She's just glad to be able to smell everything that the rest of the world can.

My Dream Job

I am still a week behind as I am just now getting around to posting last week's topic. Our topic for last week was our dream job.

My dream job would be to travel the world and write fiction. This combines two of the things I love the best: writing and travel.

I keep imagining that I will find a way to make the trip tax-deductible (novel set in Copenhagen, expenses written off as research).

My Bucket List

Our topic for last week was a list of things to do before I die. It's fairly ironic that it took me so long to complete this list given that I've had my bucket list together since I was 21 years old.

1) Learn how to use my digital camera. I purchased this camera over a year ago. It's actually become rather embarrassing. Also, not knowing how to use my digital camera is going to keep me from completing two other items on my bucket list.

2) Take a photograph of myself everyday and post it on my blog in a slide show. I read an article a year or so ago about a guy who took a picture of himself everyday for 17 years. He posted it in a slide show. Over the course of time, you could see how his face has changed. I would like to start on this project before the end of the year. I'll take a photo of myself everyday for 34 years to see how my face changes from age 36 to age 70. Of course, it will have to be password protected initially since this blog is supposed to be anonymous.

3) Take a photograph of some random thing in my life in my life. This was inspired by a recent article I read about a man who took a Polaroid every day for one decade. This will be a little harder for me as I'll need photos that are interesting enough to be meaningful and yet random enough for me to keep my anonymity.

4) Learn to speak the Italo-Western Romance languages fluently. I would love to learn Spanish, French, and Italian. I was fairly fluent in Spanish in high school but lost it through non-use.

5) Visit fifty countries and every continent (except Antarctica) before I die. I don't like the cold, so I will skip Antarctica, but I love to travel and want to continue my goal of visiting one country every year before I kick the bucket.

6) Become a published author. I started working on my fantasy novel last year and stopped once my father became ill. I'd like to finish this and complete two other books - a biography about my great grandfather and a biography about my grandmother.