The Top 10: Working from Home

Working from home is not always ideal. I don't have a proper office. My desk is in my bedroom. It's over crowded, and feng shui proponents would be wary. Yet, most of the time, it works just fine, like this afternoon. At about 2:30 i was feeling mighty sleepy and rather than fight the feeling, I honored it. I crawled under the covers, read for about 3 minutes, and then drifted away into power nap semi-oblivious bliss.
Here are my top 10 reasons why I like working from home:

1. The coffee is consistent and fresh.
2. The dress code is barefoot and braless
3. Don't have to share fridge.
4. Ditto for bathroom.
5. Don't have to pretend that I am very deep in thought when I am really sleeping.
6. Reoccurring fantasies about UPS guy could actually come true.
7. I can multi-task -- make business call while scrubbing shower or making soup
8. Flexibility in scheduling appointments with Comcast, exterminator, etc.
9. Saved gas money goes toward computer printer ink fund
10.When I am not in the mood to work, I can clean closets and still get that feeling of accomplishment.

Roll With It

One of my closest friends called today. I love our Sunday conversations. They are an accumulation of a week's worth, or sometimes two weeks worth, of action and emotion. We discuss our relationships, careers, and kids mostly. I miss her terribly since I left New York.
After the usual personal updates, she politely asked, "Can we change the subject?"
"NO," I answered sarcastically.
She went on to say, "My stomach has that roll!"
There was a dramatic pause; she used to be an actress.
"I read about it," she said describing it as an 'our age' kind of inevitability. " And I am quite troubled by it," she added.
Though her son had just told her that morning how beautiful she was, there was more on her mind.
"There I am...my skinny legs, fat arms, and this roll. I'm like a donut woman."
My friend, though sweet, is not a donut woman by any stretch. She's more of a smart cookie, is very revered in her field, has a lot of fans, plus her son is absolutely right about her beauty. Caught without her Spanx, however, she feels a tad "less than" cause she has "more of."
(It is rare to post without a pic, but Miss Blogworthy notes that she promised anonymity to her donut pal, and would not post a photo of her or any middle aged part of her body. Finding a body double in the wee hours of the morning would prove too difficult.)

Breathtakingly Bad Judgment

Last week there was a most beautiful sunset over the Coral Springs Super Wal-Mart -- My appreciation for the pink sky and dramatic cloud formations, however, was overshadowed by the orange glow of a cigarette. A father lingered by the front entrance smoking. His fidgety kids waited as he luxuriated with deep rhythmic drags. Eventually he put it out and they went inside.
I don't want to sound overly righteous. But the only not-very-eloquent thought I had was "Are you f--king kidding me?!?!" It's not about the smoking. It's about making it look like such a treat in front of his kids.
I mean, is that really necessary?

Checked Baggage 2

I wrote a letter to Delta expressing my dissatisfaction with the checked baggage system (see "Checked Baggage" post). I decided to sign it "Dr. Dagmi." I don't think it had impact on the response, but it was kind of interesting to borrow a different identity, and kind of scary to do it so easily. Stan the Man read the good doctor's plea, and sent me back this note...........

Dear Dr. Dagmi,

Thank you for sharing your concerns regarding the service provided while
traveling with us on October 10, 2009. On behalf of Delta Air Lines, I
sincerely apologize for your disappointment with our checked baggage
fees.

Your feedback is important to us and we appreciate the time you took to
write. Be assured I will be sharing your comments with our Corporate
Marketing leadership team.

Since the fee charged for your bag was correct, a refund would not be
due. Prior to your next trip, we invite you to visit the web site of
your operating carrier for the most up-to-date information on checked
baggage fees.

As a gesture of goodwill, I have issued an Electronic Transportation
Credit (eTCV) in the amount of $25.00.

Dr. Dagmi, I hope I have been able to resolve your concerns. As a
valued customer, your business is important to us and given the
opportunity of serving you in the future, I am confident Delta will not
only meet but exceed your expectations.

Sincerely,

Stan M. Pereira
Coordinator
Customer Care

I am still wondering how many of the airlines are going to manage this problem. I flew Jet Blue two weeks ago, and they managed it very well. They didn't charge for checking bags.

Checked Baggage

The bag checking system is far from perfection. I get royally irked when i pay $20 per bag, and others check theirs at the gate for free.

It happened today flying back home from Tallahassee. I flew with Delta, on a 50 passenger plane operated by Atlantic Southeast airlines. It was a pretty full flight, and as we boarded nearly everyone was asked to hand off their rolling suitcases so that they could be stowed in the luggage compartment below. Credit cards, however, were not swiped.

My breath quickened. I felt the frustration of unfairness spreading inside of me. I got to my seat and had to rant to my neighbor, Mr. Cedric Austin. I noticed the shallow and short overhead bins. I am sure the Delta personnel were well aware of the size of the aircraft, saw the terminal gate swell with people, and knew that many bags would need to be checked.

We deplaned, and all the pink ticketed bags sat on the tarmac. Passengers readily picked up their bags. I asked a bag handler, "How many bags did you just unpack?" "About 30," he said. So Delta got my 20 bucks but let this additional $600 fall through their fingers.

I picked up my bag 20 minutes later on the carousel. Naturally, mine was the last bag out. I know that I shouldn't just whine. I should make suggestions on how to better the systerm. But it's 3:38 AM and I need to get my daughter to school around 7:30. I emailed Delta customer service on Saturday afternoon and am waiting for a reply...................to be continued.

BLACK THUMB

I can keep fresh flowers alive for a couple of days,but I can't seem to get the gist of plants. The last plant that i killed was an orchid. It was given to me on my birthday last year. I strategically placed it in a place that I pass by everyday, so that I'd remember to check on it often and see if it needed watering. That did not end very well.


I discovered that I do like fake flowers -- but I mean the seriously fake kind, so that there is no mistaking them for the real deal. I like my fakes made from plastic, beads, yarn, fabric,and paper -- these are les fleurs for me.




I now have a virtual garden around my house, and all they require is a little dusting.

TWICE LICE

I am finally seeing the lice...........i mean light.

Last night, howeverm I saw the former. I was not happy, but neither was I in denial like the last time. The first time "we" had lice it took about 10 days for me to finally make the connection between sammi's incessant head scratching and head lice. I chalked it up to dry skin, allergies to shampoo, allergies to food...anything but lice. But you know what. We got through it.

Today, less $295, I could breathe a sigh of relief and release my children back into the social arena in which they most brilliantly shine!(Well, ok, that was a little over-dramatic, but the gentle sarcasm laced with iced coffee that's running through my body, made me write that.)

At the Family Lice Removal in Coral Springs, Sammi and Dylan were de-loused, I was head-checked, and we bought a can of anti-nit mint hair spray which smells good to humans, but repulsive to lice. Wendy Pincus, owner and Head Lice Specialist, has opened branches in Atlanta, Maryland, and New Jersey. We'll be checking back with Wendy for a $75 follow up visit at the end of next week.

I could also buy the product from Wendy, apply it, and then hopefully (and joyfully) confirm the absence of lice or eggs. But, simply put, I do not have faith in my own ability to know if my children are de-loused. I have never been a mom who does hair -whether french braiding or diligently parting and combing, it's just not my thing.

Last night I took the over-the-counter NIX kit and smothered Dylan's hair in the formula. As i sifted through her heavy, thick, beautiful infested hair, I knew I would be taking her to a specialist in the morning. But I continued nit-picking for a while. Even though i know i'm not that good at it, there is something very satisfying about finding lice and removing them. The "Got ya!" moment is extremely rewarding. You've seen monkeys at the zoo patiently lovingly picking through one another's coat....same thing.

DIAPER DRAMA AT 10,000 FEET

Setting: August 26, US AIR Flight 959, enroute from Charlotte to Ft. Lauderdale, 11:40 pm. Sometime between initial descent and landing. A toddler makes a near fatal error by taking the poop of his life at a most inconvenient time.


Intercom: "...tray tables up, please pass any trash to flight attendants...."

Me (thinking): ooh, what is that smell...did someone throw up...something happened...yuck

(a young mother with a diaper in hand, races to the back of the plane)

Me (thinking): ohhhhh...poop...poor Mom...glad I'm not her.

(the mother returns to her seat hastily. though she is partially hidden from sight, we know she is changing her child who happens to be babbling sweetly. She tells him to hush. Meanwhile a very tall flight attendant appears at row 14)

Attendant:You can't do THAT here.

(she thrusts a plastic trast bag into the mother's hands.

Attendant: Put that under his bottom. It's unsanitary for the people who will be sitting there after.

(the attendant walks away leaving a snitty cloud in her wake)

Me (thinking): Just make a fucking note to clean row 14 with lysol. seems pretty simple to me. I mean...really.

(A second attendant is making her way toward row 14 with a plastic bag in hand)

Attendant 2: The diaper has to be in a bag and deposited in the bathroom.

Mom: I put it there.

(Attendant walks away with an exasperated sigh which meant: "How could you let your child do this.")

Me (thinking): did you ever think of helping her rather than condemning her for her child taking a big shit. aren't you supposed to be of service rather than of judgment...are you a mom.

The confrontation subsided as did the scent of poopy diaper. I could hear the mother speaking Hebrew which was a consolation to me because Israelis are pretty thick skinned when they need to be. Where as I would have probably been bawling in my seat, she was probably a little incensed but it would take more than two judgmental unhelpful US AIR workers to upset her. But there's more.....

(Plane lands, passengers unbuckle and quickly stand, a tall lean woman with a smart khaki pants suit in row 13 is standing hunched over her seat. She faces the mom in Row 14)

Lean Woman: "Changing your child in your seat...do you realize how unsanitary that is. Are you even aware of how bacteria spreads.........."

I heard the mother ask if she had any kids. And some more dialogue ensued, but that was all I heard in the deplaning shuffle.

I was ticked off because the attendants were bitchy and unprofessional. Perhaps there was some earlier interaction where the mother caused "a stink" -- so to speak. And now the flight attendants were getting their revenge. Who knows... I was asleep for a good part of the flight.

But to me it seemed the mother was in a lose-lose situation. If she had taken her baby to the changing room bathroom, they would have scolded her for getting out of her seat. She was "in deep shit" either way.

As I walked off "the poopy plane", I almost said something to one of the attendants.

I know almost doesn't count.

Self Esteem is a Beautiful Thing

The floor of my car is a collection site for book, gum wrappers, and doodles. While I was away, my 8 1/2 yr. old daughter created the "Who Dosent Like Me" page. Knowing that it took me 40+ years to discover my best traits, I was ecstatic to see that Sam has already discovered many of hers, spelling not amongst them.

In case it's hard to read, some of the adjectives she wrote are (spelled as she spelled them: awsome,entelegent, doutgoing, pretty, cool, good, friendly, creative, chic, flexeble, honnest, wonderful, funny, cute, smart and strong.

contemplating cleavage

I was flat-chested for what seemed like an eternity. I don't even remember wearing a bra until freshman year in college. I had gained 40 pounds and finally had breasts. My body changed and thinned out some after that, but the boobs pretty much remained front, center and fairly perky, hovering between a 34B and 36D (i was breastfeeding!), for the next 18 years. At 37, however, when child #2 had given up nursing, I was relatively flat-chested again.

I might not have felt the impact of flat, if I had not moved down to South Florida. There, breast implants are as common as highlights and with tank tops being the state uniform, it was impossible not to notice. I began contemplating surgical enhancement daily; my ego, like my chest, was deflated.

I had a boob fantasy. I would enroll a few girlfriends and we would “Beg for Boobs” at a busy intersection. We would have signs and "Tit Jars" and naturally there would be a website link about this particular project. I envisioned that this public fundraising ploy would get news coverage, and then an empathetic, opportunistic, and skilled plastic surgeon would take notice, and volunteer to do my surgery.

Then a cop friend of mine told me that I could get arrested for soliciting. When I imagined my children's faces peering at me through the bars, I scaled the plan down some. I bought a couple of Wonderbras instead, and watched my real breasts and nipples disappear into padded oblivion.

Six years went by, and after regularly contemplating cleavage at Publix and PTA meetings, I finally accepted my breasts and let go of the idea of surgery. Choosing real and natural in the land of milk and money was refreshingly liberating. My petite breasts were uniquely mine, and left room for other parts to be admired.

On this journey to basic acceptance, however, I amassed quite a collection of bras, and they are divided into three categories: No, Low, and Whoa! The No has no padding, the Low has a modest amount, and the Whoa! -- well, hmmm, take a guess.

When I told my teenage daughter about my bra rating system, she smiled so big which is no easy feat for her these days. She shared the story with some of her friends which made me happy because not only did she actually retain what I said, but she found it worth repeating. Her math instructor overheard one conversation, and he said that it had no place in his classroom.

Is Oprah's Word Losing Weight?

You know how they say that Oprah's blessing is golden...that if you are lucky enough to be on her "i like you" list, you've got it made.... well , perhaps the power of O is not as salient as it once was.

On January 13th, Oprah interviewed Kate Winslet. And in the conversation, Oprah let it be known that she loved Kate's breasts. In fact, Oprah high-fived Kate and emoted, "God bless your real breasts!"

So why then, did Kate rank 99th out of 99 on AskMen.com's 2009 edition "Top 99 Women." Kate placed, but placed last. Is that cause for celebration or a recount? Was the poll settled before or after Kate picked up two Golden Globes, before Oprah complimented her 'girls'?

AskMen.com had these glowing words to say about Kate: "She fearlessly confronts negative body images in the media and bares her own voluptuous ”imperfections” in films." True, Kate's weight has fluctuated over the course of her career, and it is truly a pity that she has had to deflect criticism about her real curves, top and bottom. I just saw "Revolutionary Road," and one thought that kept popping up was how hot she looked in those tight 50's pencil skirts.

If the poll were Askmenandjane.com, Kate would have made the top 10.

Restraint

I am vain. Not exceedingly so every waking minute, but I am vain in the sense that one zit can make me go into hiding. I am presently sporting one on my chin, and of course, I feel like it has taken over my entire face. Yet with this particular eruption, i am heeding the advice, here-to-fore unheeded, of my mother, not to touch it. I am excercising restraint.

This zit is running its natural course. I have played dermatologist too much, ending up with little scars along the way. I've battled zits by trying to steam them into oblivion with super hot washcloths followed by a clay mask. I have gone after them with a sanitized needle, followed by a pimple drying medication or calamine lotion.

This may all seem silly, petty, and overly narcissistic because, quite frankly, it is. And I know that, and I am not going into hiding with this one. I have chosen to face life with or without the zit.

Sorry, no picture.

Wishbone Creative

On Thanksgiving, I was awarded the turkey carcass. I took it home in a ziploc and it provided me with meat for one turkey vegetable soup, flavor for 3 containers of stock, and the inspiration for one wishbone craft project. I returned the wishbone from whence it came (is whence a word??. My dear friends got their wishbone back on Christmas Eve, just a little altered a la Miss Blogworthy.

Materials:
1 wishbone, cleaned, boiled, dry
1 old crappy frame
paint (and a brush)
glue (and a brush)
thin wire (and a wire cutter)
Drill
A coupla magazines for cutting (note: don't use issues of any of the following defunct mags: O at Home, Cottage Living, Home Companion, Country Home,CosmoGirl, etc. -- they may be worth something in 30 years)

How to:
Paint frame. You will probably need 2 coats.
Paint wishbone and let it dry.
Once dry, brush on a coat of elmers glue and sprinkle glitter on top.
Arrange cut out phrases on cardboard frame insert and affix with glue.
Drill small hole in top of wishbone and through top of frame.

Twist wire in wishbone and then feed up thru frame hole. Secure with tack.
Write something meaningful on the back.