Conundrum

I am allergic to cats.


Nevertheless, I have three of them.

Two are long-time friends. Mudge is a 16-year old calico, a tiny cat who takes crap from exactly no one, be they human, feline or canine. Hoover is a 12-year old Russian Blue, who loved me with mindless devotion...at least until my daughter started reaching a size and temperament that reminded him of me. Now he's just as likely to run to her.

Gigi is a stray who found his way to our house after husband and daughter discovered him under the car at K's swimming lessons last summer. 18 months old, 14 pounds...he's strong like bull, smart like tractor.

We also have three dogs. You met the goobers last May, when they arrived here after being abandoned by their prior owners. There's also Angus, A/K/A The Moron, a 7-year-old Kerry Blue Terrier who believes he's solely responsible for our continued safety.

In short, I live in a menagerie. I didn't plan this. It just happened.

So tonight, as we're cleaning up from dinner, Mr. Bean hears a plaintive meow from the back porch. We start counting noses; all our cats are de-clawed, so we don't let them out. He opens the door and in walks a grey male kitten, perhaps 6 months old. He immediately rubs on everything in the house; Mr. Bean, Me, K. He hasn't eaten in a few days, and puts down a week's ration of food in 10 minutes. He then jumps into K's lap, purrs his little kitty brains out and curls up.

He's wonderful. Seems to get along with the other cats. Not terribly afraid of the dogs. We live in a cul-de-sac; chances are that he was dumped here. He clearly has no clue whatsoever how to live on his own. And he's just adorable.

So I find myself wondering, at what point is my quality of life suffiently decreased by the critters I bring into my house to enhance my quality of life, that I should start cutting back? I can only sneeze so much.

And who the hell is going to clean that extra litter box?

VOTE!!!

You have a really important job to do tomorrow. Get out there and vote. Don't be dissuaded by long lines or crabby, overworked poll workers. This is the most important thing you can do to improve your life.

I don't even care who you vote for. (OK, I do care, but if you are smart enough to find your way here, you're probably smart enough to know what's best for the country). Just vote.

OK, truth? Here's what I'll say about who to vote for: Vote for the people who will lead us forward out of this current mess. Vote for the people who will enrich your local city councils, your school boards, and your local judiciary. Who will look after the best interests of your schools, your needy citizens, and your public safety infrastructure. Vote for people who are smarter than you, who are more educated than you, and who speak better than you do. Vote for people who can pronounce "nuclear".

(And if you live in Ohio, it's YES on 5, and NO on 6. Seriously. Don't screw this up for the rest of us.)

Good luck!

Managing "Up"

Is there any tactful way to tell your boss that, if he's spending more time on the seating chart for a meeting than he is on the agenda, there's probably a big ol' red flag in there someplace?

Confidential to Edna's Daughter

I hope you understand that when I push you -- when I insist that you stick up for yourself, that you do the difficult things and the uncomfortable things -- it's not because I have a "control" issue, or a need to be right. It's because I worry about you every day. It's because I want you to be as happy and safe as you can possibly be. It's because those are the very things you would -- and should -- expect me to do if our roles were reversed.

It's because I love you.

I hope you know that.

Things that suck

I wrecked my pretty little blue truck the other day. Yes, yes; I'm fine. More importantly, the other guy is fine. All things considered, I was very lucky that the aftermath was more inconvenience than anything.


But my festive blue mini SUV? The one that gets 30 MPG? The one over which I was suffering all that guilt and angst less than a year ago? It's boo-boo'd. Its little nose is all dented in. Makes me sad.


Then, this morning, I had to preside over Annie's job termination. It sure as hell wasn't something I wanted to do. It was unavoidable, however, as many things have come to light in the last two months that have fundamentally changed the landscape for that organization. All through the conversation, she kept looking at me, as though I could somehow wave a wand and make this all better. I couldn't.

But again, the fact that we all were there, at that table, being forced to do that deed, underscored for me that I just hadn't done enough to forestall or avoid the situation. That I hadn't seen it coming soon enough. That I had failed, despite best intent and effort.

I am bothered by this dichotomy of feeling like a failure at a time when others perceive me as being a success. I have been working too much, trying to multi-task too often, forcing myself to be "on" too much of the time. I think it was about a year ago that I stated the need to slow down; I haven't been too successful at that. Much to the contrary, in fact. I often feel as though I'm drowning in a sea of tasks and deadlines. Things fall off my plate. I am over-committed, yet I am having a hard time saying 'no', and I am usually criticised for those few instances when I do say no.

There hasn't been a single family member -- husband, daughter, mother, dad and step-mom, in-laws -- (or close friend, for that matter), who hasn't expressed to me, in one way or another, that I am not reliable for them lately. They don't see me as having the time to be fully present for them.

And yet, I don't know how to escape from this. I have to support my family for another two years; that's my reality. And the others who come to me for help really need my help. "I don't know who else to turn to for this." I hear it all the time.

I want to know how some people maintain this kind of schedule and still manage to keep their centers. If any of you know, clue me in, OK?

Because I'm sucking at this.

W

Oliver Stone's new movie, W, comes out tomorrow.

I haven't seen it, and I probably won't. Just don't have time.

However, I have to question the motivation and propriety of releasing a potentially disrespectful biopic about a sitting president, two weeks before an election.

I think it's a very poor commentary on American society. I have no love for our current president, but I think this is in unnecessarily poor taste.

I don't know: maybe I'm old-fashioned. I think you can criticize the actions of your politicians while they're in power, but I think delving into their personal histories in such a public way (and if Oliver Stone's history is any indication, it won't be a game of soft-ball), should wait until they've left office.

There. I've said my piece and counted three.

Know Thyself

I'm nosey.

There. I said it.

It's not that I feel entitled to know what's going on in everyone else's life, and it's not that I'm intent on doing anything with the information once I have it.

But I just wanna know what my family and friends are up to, you know? If someone is having a fight, it kills me when I don't know why. If someone is sad, I can't stand it when they say 'I don't wanna talk about it". You wanna send me up the wall? Stand in my office with a big, shit-eatin' grin on your face and when I ask, say, "Nah, just in a good mood. Must be the sunshine."

Sure; I put up a brave face. "Oh, hey, you know, it's cool; I don't want to pry. Not my business. I'm here if you wanna talk." But inside, I'm yelling, "AAAAACK! WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME???"

Maybe it's "Mother Hen" syndrome. I really need to know that the people I love are OK. Or maybe it's a lack of character. Maybe it's some deep-seated paranoia that suggests that if they won't tell me, it must be because I'm the butt of some joke or so emotionally incompetent that I cannot be opened up to.

Or maybe there's some spinach in my teeth. Do I have spinach in my teeth?

I don't know.



But I want to.

C'mon. Spill! ;)

Micro-rant

My mother is driving me insane.

thatisall.

No Nose Nanette

I'm embarking on week three of a sinus infection, which in this case means that, in addition to having a headache 24/7, I have virtually no sense of smell.

On one hand, this is somewhat advantageous, as previously stinky stuff is not a problem for me. Rotten milk in my daughter's thermos from last Friday? No probs. I'll clean it out. Cat boxes? Ditto. I now believe, in addition, that everyone in the world has excellent digestive health.

On the other hand, sometimes those noxious odors are nature's little warning bells. Apparently, I hung up an entire load of soured laundry yesterday. And Friday, I didn't find out -- until I started drinking it -- that the milk had expired. Additionally, sometimes I assume that something should be stinky when it is not, and as a result, I am using air fresheners to an excess. Like French Whorehouse excess.

I planned to make festively-scented bath products for Christmas presents this year. This isn't going so well. I find that, unless I am using a pre-determined recipe for a scent (i.e. One I've Done Before), I have no idea what's going together and what isn't. Some scents come through OK (Rose, for example, for some unknown reason) while others are all but hidden. As a result, by the time I can smell the scent I'm adding to the soap, I have managed to transform my entire living space into the previously-described European House of Ill-Repute. Unbeknownst to me, I apparently gassed my husband's hooded jacket with enough lavender oil that he was drawing stares at his 'guys night out' Saturday. My family has asked me to take a haitus from Christmas crafts until my olfactory receptors have resumed normal operation.

Food? Not so much exciting. Pretty much everything is "meh" flavored. Unless it's sweet or salty, I'm not going to know it's there. Umami? Please. Total non-starter.

The only saving grace is that, hopefully, I can finally lose some weight. I'll keep y'all posted.

The moments that change our lives

“I’m sorry; what did you say?”

I looked at Heidi, who sat in the passenger seat of my car, her brows raised and her head turned slightly to the side. I hated that expression on her face. It made her look like the Church Lady from the old SNL skits.

I was irritated. We were on our way to the grocery store to pick up the other half of the ingredients for the dinner we had sitting on the stove back at my house, I had just spent an hour fighting with my friend Joyce over animal testing of pharmaceuticals, and I couldn’t fathom what esoteric bit of sanctimony Heidi was now trying to lay on me.

“What’s it worth to you to be right? What are you willing to sacrifice in order to win this?”

I regarded her with an expression of disbelief.

“So you think I’m wrong about this?”

She shook her head, “I didn’t say that. For the record, I think you’re probably right, although on matters like this, perception shapes reality as much as anything else. What I asked you was what you were willing to sacrifice in order to win this.”

“Sacrifice? I’m not sure I follow.”

“Well, you and Joyce have been having this fight for the better part of a week. She makes her points; you make yours. But the tenor of this argument is getting progressively nastier, on both sides, as this week as worn on, and the rest of us are getting a little tired of listening to it. You have logic and a body of scientific evidence on your side; she has a passionate belief in her sense of right and wrong on hers.

It’s possible that you can overwhelm her with argument until she gives in, but what does that gain you? Self-assurance, perhaps, but does it make you definitively “right”? And in the meantime, you two are breaking down a ten-year friendship over, what? A snippet of ideology? Like I said: you can win, but are you willing to sacrifice your friendship to do it? Because that’s what it will probably cost you.”

She paused. “On the other hand, you can agree to disagree, and honor each other’s feelings. You don’t get the satisfaction of “winning”, but you don’t lose -- either the argument or your friendship.”

In retrospect, that conversation changed both my outlook on life and my career. I started to focus on seeing both sides of an argument more. I started focusing on fighting “fair”. My marriage was stronger. I found I was happier and I slept better. I found that several intractable negotiations at work suddenly got a lot easier to manage.

Most of what I do now is teaching people how to communicate with each other better, to negotiate for a long-term relationship, and to focus on what they share, rather than what divides them. It’s enormously satisfying.

I’ve known a lot of smart people in my life, but Heidi may have been the wisest.