S is for Selfish...

Yes,alive, well and kicking. So a hearty THANK YOU for not giving up on me.

I've given myself some time and space this past month to just see what life has in store for me. Here's what I've discovered....

1. I'm really good at laundry
2. I'm a kick ass cookie baker
3. I'm really glad that if I was going to have a week-long debilitating head cold, I wasn't two weeks in to a new job.
4. If I don't sweep EVERY DAY it looks like there is a molting grizzly bear playing hide and seek in our house.
5. 14 is the magic number

After 14 job applications to any job that remotely interested me, I finally had a call last week for a job interview. The posting is very similar to the last job I had in Not For Profit, so it was a relatively easy chat.

Following a five minute conversation which felt like a lovefest of ME ME ME, I waited to see if I qualified for a face to face interview. I did, and yesterday I made the hour-long drive, 70 km return trip, for the hour and a half meeting. Each mile down the road, I'm thinking about how long this drive seems. How much driving time is going to eat out of my day. How the plan to keep my truck indefinitely will have to be revised since I will be driving the crap out of it.

The office is in an impressive building. I felt like Melanie Griffith in Working Girl. This was the vision I'd have for myself for a long time. Beautiful lobby, elevator, office. Just what a career-oriented person would shoot for - and I'm not going to lie - it felt right.

I feel I did well. Probably because I went in with about as much expectation in getting the job as I did about winning the last seat on the final shuttle mission. So I let it all hang out. No nerves, no stress and no hope in Hell. Could I do the job? Absolutely. Do I want it?

Tap, tap...hellooo? This thing on?
Perhaps it's my previous experience with charitable organizations, but for me the question is the pay. Show me the money. I'm at an age where I won't undervalue myself. I know what my skill set is - I know what I'm capable of. I know what the next step in my career should be.

But I've also had six weeks of home life where I've had a bit of a revelation.

I'm a disappointment. A traitor to the Women's Movement. I like being at home. I find myself keeping very busy around the house. Not just with traditional house work, but with the activities I have long yearned to do and simply not had the time to do. Unpacking and settling the house. Reading. WRITING! I feel more creative than I have in years. Probably because other than being off for the maternity leaves for my two boys, I've never been off work in more than 20 years. By MYSELF.

I have days that I can plan for myself. I have been freelancing like crazy for the local paper and truly enjoy it. I'm spending less on groceries because I'm planning, not reacting to meal time. I actually have "down" time where I can watch a movie without guilt, because I have all my work done. My stress level is barely registering.

It was a long drive home from the interview. Pondering and consider the impact of various options. Calculating my mileage, the in-freaking-sane gas prices and the time away from home. What I will give up if I'm offered the job and accept it. What I will give up if I don't.

I don't know that it will be worth it. And I'm trying not to dwell on it and let the pieces fall where they may. I think part of my warped psyche said if I didn't go to the interview, I would jinx myself from ever getting another one.

Fortunately, The Big Guy is totally supportive. I explained that I want to find a job that excites me. Something that can challenge me and give me the financial reward that will justify my skills and dedication. He gets it. Likely because he finally has that kind of job and understands the satisfaction it brings. And I've seen the postings - the jobs that as I read the description gives me shivers. Yup, I get tingly over job postings. You would too if you'd been on poggie for three weeks.

For now, I suppose I'm putting the price on my head - which means I'm worth more at home right now than I am an hour away.

Gloria Steinem is pulling my Woman Card...

When I Grow Up I Want to Be......

The search for the perfect job has been far from idylic.

But then, being laid off during one of the biggest "economic downturns" in recent memory...and during the winter at that, probably isn't helping the situation. Neither is the fact that I'm so used to being busy that having any kind of down time is rather unnerving. Oh, and add to that the daily updats that I'm asked for. People are genuinely interested and concerned, but one does tend to go against the odds when they are looking for employment in a rural area with a Communications background.

There is always another school of thought...

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" asks First Born Son.

The laughter that comes from me takes him back - and in that split moment the hurt and confusion that crosses his stabs at my heart. At what point to we stop believing in what we could be? When does the reality of mortgages, bills and responsibility cloud over the sunny possibilities?

I don't believe in regret. There is nothing in my life I would do over differently - even this time I'm in now. I'm heading toward something, I just have to wait until the timing clicks and I set sail again in a new direction.

So I'm not wallowing in self pity, or despair that I should have done something different with my life. But FBS's question has brought to life a new consideration - I want to love what I do.

If you look at the School Days archive my parents maintained for me, you would have seen a young girl who dreamed of being a cowgirl, a vet and eventually a stewardess. This echoed my interests at the time, animals and travel.

While I have been fortunate enough to travel without having to incorporate handing out snack-sized peanuts, my extent of being around animals has been limited to have a dog - and I look forward to someday having the time and resources to have a horse once again.

What I have now is a young family and I love the time I have right now to do all the cliche house-mommy tasks I've struggled to cram in while balancing a job - baking, cleaning, getting jobs done while the kids are at school so I can enjoy my time with them when they are home. Was it what I planned when I was seven? No, but at the time I didn't realize what all of my options were.

So as far as what I wanted to be when I grew up...perhaps I still have some growing to do!

Be Careful What You Wish For

So, how's your 2011 treating you?

Just days shy of the first month ending and a month since Christmas (longer since since I've checked in here - more on that in a minute - patience!)

At Casa Bowery, life has been nothing if not unpredictable. Starting back at the week before Christmas - The Big Guy was head hunted and accepted a job that not only offered greater compensation, but also recognized individual achievement. He has a company truck which means we only have one vehicle on the road. After 23 years with his previous employer - this was as close to a Christmas Miracle as we were going to get!

The Christmas Holidays were frantic, visiting with family and sharing the good news. Hosted Christmas Morning Brunch, add a hockey tournament, no, actually two, and enjoyed a small get together with our friends for New Year's Eve. Put this all together you can imagine why at the end of the week, I was practically in the fetal position. All I could think of was, I need a vacation from the vacation!

I had my next entry all ready - the week that The Big Guy started his new job, I was ready to share the big issue facing my little family - how to share a morning with a father who's had 23 years of peace and tranquility - aka - Welcome To The Real World Big Guy! It still may come, but isn't really relevent right now...

But Life - well, every now and then Life likes to pick you up by the back of the collar, hoof you in the hiney with a frozen work boot and then wash your face with snow, just for laughs.

This cruel form of karma came back the first day of TBG's first day on the new job. We all made a fuss when he left - as proud of him for keeping his cool with two kids and wife "underfoot" as we were of him heading off to the next stage of his career.

When he came home, the kids were all over him. They wanted to know every detail of his day - which he gave in spite of the fact that he was mentally exhausted and looked like he'd run a brain marathon.

So I let him share his stories, show us is lap top, the truck, the new cell phone and all the other details that make little boys glow with envy and pride. After the kids were weary of his accounts, I took the moment to give him some news about my day.

I was laid off. Indefinitely.

Happy First Day at Work Honey!

Being in the manufacturing industry, I had some idea that things were slow, but to say I was caught off guard by this news would not only be misleading, it would be hilarious.

He was very supportive and understanding and I felt like a heel for raining on his parade. We agreed to save telling the kids until the end of the week - which was to have been my last day.

Except, it wasn't. Higher ups in the company decided it would be best for me to leave immediately, as is the nature of Sales. So on Tuesday, I was packing up my desk and back to the house by 11 a.m. As long as I was being paid, I might as well start looking for the next job, right?

Finally, the Heir and the Spare come home from school.

"What are you doing home mom," asks First Born Son.

"Where is your brother?" I reply - yes, diversion is an acceptable tactic.

"He's coming - I threw his toque in the ditch and he's gone back to get it. Why are you home?" he repeated.

"Oh, I've been home all afternoon," I respond - do you see what I'm doing here???

"MOM Why are you home?!" At this point, I realize the poor little bastard is JUST. LIKE. ME. I would totally have done the same thing. Your Spidey Sense is tingling, isn't it FBS?

"JEEZ FBS, take it easy, you just got in the door, I'm wondering where you brother is - do you need to go help him?!" The tone tells him to take a break, and he does, but only for a moment.

Second Born Son finally arrives, asks almost the same question but is satisfied with the "I've been home all afternoon" line. He's so his father's son.....

I had hoped to wait until TBG got home, and don't ask me why. Because it would sound better with him in the room? Dunno. FBS waited all of ten minutes and came at me again.

So I get both of them in the same room and share my good news.

"WHAT? Why would you take a job where you could get laid off???" FBS demands. I'm astonished to see he is REALLY mad. It takes a moment to realize that he thinks I could have prevented this from happening which is why he has a small measure of anger directed at me, but the larger portion is aimed at the business for letting me go. He also admits that he thought we'd won the lottery since over the holidays apparently I had indicated that I would quit my job if we ever hit the jackpot. (Uh, it's pretty much the opposite of that...)

After I explain that any job can be subjected to a lay off, and that in this economy, millions of people have been in this position for much longer. I reassure them that I will be looking for a new job and that we don't anticipate any changes in our household for a while. His tone changes and it becomes evident that he's worried about me, but his surprise got the best of him.

At that point I realize, SBS has been rubbing my back and giving a reassuring pat ever since I told them. He hasn't uttered a word and when I look at him to thank him for his comforting gesture, he stops me mid sentence and gives me a huge hug. I love this kid!

The shock of the news was soften considerably by the fact that I had dinner in the oven and was giving a most delicious aroma. Immediately they seemed to register that there were some advantages to having Mama Bear around.

In the week since this has happened, I've painting the exposed flooring in the upstairs hallway, tidied up countless boxes that were half unpacked, set up the hutch in the dining room and emptied at least 10 boxes of china, decor items and silverware. The living room actually looks like a living room instead of a drop zone for everything from action figures to saws,and the laundry is totally caught up! I'm ready to tackle SBS's closet which requires some shelves to be built. Power tools anyone?

Fortunately, my contact at the local newspaper is thrilled to have more of my time and I will be writing more than I have in years. Stepping back into journalism is like putting on your favorite pair of jeans - the ones that went out of style for a while, but now are so retro they are cool again.

I love the fact that I have a skill I can use in a freelance capacity, and plan on using this as an example for my boys when it comes time to choose a career path.

Finally TBG comes home, and since from the boys perspective, this is "news", SBS greets him at the door.

"Hey Dad, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is, dinner is ready! The bad news is, Mom lost her job!"

Factual, to the point and direct. I wonder if this boy has a future in reporting?

Spreading the Good Word - of a fashion

There are some things you never discuss in polite conversation, Politics and Religion are usually at the top of that list.

Ironically, I feel I can talk about just about anything with anyone. It's HOW you talk about it that determines the success of the conversation. You can believe whatever you want, and we can share our opinions, but I'm not going to cram anything down your throat and in spite of how hard you may try, you won't be cramming anything down mine! Maybe we'll both learn something.

So when it comes to how a person demonstrates their faith, you could consider me more of a behind the scenes kind of gal, rather than a front and centre with a spotlight.

I absolutely believe in God. And Jesus. And even if you want to argue the validity of the Bible, I would suggest the meaning is there, if the message seems to be a bit handed down.

For me, living my belief is most important. Case in point.

Got my new truck (Santa Fe) back in February. Two weeks later, I bump (literally - a gentle slide) into another vehicle on an icy street when I'm backing out of a driveway. It was parked and unattended. I got out and had a look. I take pictures (because I always seem to have my camera around at the right time - lol!) and go to the house. I give the owner the info - it's a young mother and she's almost in tears, so grateful that I've come in to "confess" and not simply drive off.

I get home. The Big Guy is understandably upset. He says "Why didn't you just drive away if no one saw you?? Do you know how much this is going to cost?!?" (Keep in mind we have JUST bought the truck, taxes are due and both boys have $$ hockey tournaments around the corner - oh, ya and my sister is getting married in two months...) I look him calmly in the eye and say "Because that wasn't the Christian thing to do!"

I told him about the young mom and how I figure we can afford to fix her car easier than she can, and I simply couldn't expect to raise my kids to do the "right" thing, if I couldn't. IMMEDIATELY, he felt SO bad for what he had said, admitted it was likely the proper thing to do, but was still sullen about it.

The upside....(read here - GOD AT WORK) the body man agreed to fix both vehicles at COST! $100 for mine (it's a tank - you can't hurt it) and $500 for hers. It would have EASILY been $3,000 at full price and our insurance would have been impacted if we claimed it. In the end - doing the RIGHT thing was cheaper!!! THAT is my belief. THAT is what I feel I need to do to spread "The Word". My husband, my children, my family will know how to do what God would want us to do - and hopefully others will see what we do and will conduct themselves accordingly.

The Gospel According to Me...now where's the Offering Plate?!

When More is Simply Too Much

Since when is "more" better?

I prefer to err on the side of "less" especially when it comes to public displays of affection, demonstrative actions etc. unless it is something truly funny. Funny needs to be shared.

But lavish, meh, not so much.

So I'm standing in the bridal salon that I shall not name because I'm still mad at them, waiting for the rolly polly seamstress. In the wall of mirrors I'm watching a tiny young woman leafing through wedding dresses. Honestly, she weighs about as much as my thigh. She's with her mother and while the young woman is very collegiate looking, her mother looks very tired, dishevelled and not nearly as current in her wardrobe as her daughter.

The woman sits in the middle of the room on the bench and watches her daughter fanning through the gowns and I notice she only looking at short, strappy styles. I figure she's having a small wedding and doesn't want to overpower her small frame with a large gown. In my head I'm giving this girl a lot of credit - she's going to spend about half to three-quarters what she would have spent on the larger dress.

I'm annoyed at the mother, who doesn't seem engaged in this time with her daughter. Instead of revelling the time to being with her to pick her wedding dress, the woman looks and acts like she's afraid to touch any of the dresses, and that she's not buying into the idea of the wedding at all. I'm annoyed big time. If I've learned anything in my many trips down the aisle, it's that the wedding is not about anyone other than the bride and groom - egos and attitudes need to be checked at the door.

Then grandma walks in. Wiry white hair cut bluntly that frames her face, makeup stylish appliced and a kick-ass outfit that makes the mother look even more frumpy. Her artisan jewelery plays off beautifully with the chic hand-crafted wrap and dark-wash jeans she's wearing. She looks impecable and carries herself with an air of sophistication reserved for Katherine Hepburn. As soon as the woman walks in, the young girl starts to squeal, and the mother stops talking entirely.

Grandma fawns over the young girl, pulling out various dresses and suggesting various alterations to make the dress "her own". My pleasure at seeing the older woman relishing the time with her granddaughter comes to a screeching halt when the younger female corrects the sales associate.

"Oh, this isn't my wedding dress," she said. "I already have my wedding gown."

dead air

"This is for after the service - and pictures - for the reception," she clarifies. Now I understand why Mom is hanging her head. She can't afford this. And the daughter - a recent grad, can't either. So thank goodness Money Bags showed up.

"I LOVE my dress," she said. "But I just can't imagine wearing it ALL DAY!" she gushes. "I mean it's SO big and SO heavy, I would just DIE wearing it ALL DAY - it's going to be too hot!"

What

the

hell

So you are getting married at the end of June - you've picked your dress - DON'T YOU PICK YOUR DRESS BASED ON WHEN YOU ARE GETTING MARRIED? I felt like asking, "What are you wearing, Angora wool? RAYON? PIG IRON??"

Unless this woman is marrying a multi-millionaire, she is about to start her married life under a grave misapprehension. It's clear she wasn't raised with a lot of money, but money is around her. She is having a wedding with TWO wedding gowns because, after all, didn't Jennifer Lopez or Katie Holmes do that? The cost of having a second dress was over $750 - how much did you pay for your initial gown? Likely between $1,200 - $2,500 - and I'll bet the farm it was closer to the top end amount. So now, you are looking at well over $3,000 AND TAX just for one day.

Because there was no time to order the dress in, the girl was negotiating the cost of alterations and the sales rep was having a dandy time trying to calculate how much it would cost to alter and cut down a sample dress. Grandma never blinked at the cost. She only concurred with her granddaughter - one dress simply would not DO! Mom just sat there like she was watching it all happen to strangers.

I wondered if she had tried to instill a sense of frugality in her daughter all these years, knowing she had limited resources. Had her mother then trumped her and usurped her rights as a mother when she felt she had the overpowering right as a grandmother? Did the daughter see this dynamic and play one off the other? At what point would the grandmother stand down and let this girl see things for what they are? Maybe the girl was embarassed that her mother was not in the same world as her grandmother was, but I daresay, unless her grandmother planned on supporting her for the rest of her life, the young woman's wake up call was going to greet her the morning after her honeymoon.

It's a disturbing trend, young people starting out expecting the best of everything. My parents were the most fortunate of all their friends. They had saved enough money to buy a house when they got married. Many of their friends had to rent an apartment for the first couple of years, finally saving a down payment in time for the first baby to arrive.

Homes were furnished with miss-matched furniture and dinnerware, save for the nicer items they received as wedding gifts. You worked hard and gained throughout your marriage. You had goals and dreams and set targets for yourself, including one day, GASP, buying a NEW car.

When did we decide it was ok to start at top? Newlyweds moving into homes that are fully furnished and model-home ready. Neither of their cars are more than 3 years old. A trip up north or to Niagara Falls is not be considered a worthy honeymoon, and if it didn't include either a cruise or a number of spa treatments (for both of them)it simply wasn't worth writing home about.

Methinks we need to adjust our expectations. Otherwise, what do you have to look forward to, other than a mountain of debt and a divorce decree?

Give or take an inch....

So with the Royal Wedding Part II looming on the horizon, I thought it would be a good time to haul myself into the bridal salon to get my dress on - extra five pounds and all.

Fortunately, I had been down the week before with Little Sister to try on her gown as well as help out with the three young'uns who also needed fittings. This gave me an idea of what LS was looking for and how receptive the seamstress was to change/suggestion. In a word - she's "not." Therefore, I pulled on my dress and was delighted to see the extra winter poundage means I don't have to alter a thing in the bodice, which previously was a little loose.

I'll work on the Winter Five next - I'm just glad we don't have to alter anything!

Then I pull on my shoes. Amazingly I have a pair of metallic strappy low heels - around 2 inches - that give a nice lift without making me an Amazon. As soon as I straightened up I realized, things were going to head south.

The dress was perfect for me when I was in bare feet. It's too short with the heel. Did I mention it is a floor-length dress? Oh - ya, so now we have a lovely little gap and on top of it all, when I stride you can just about see too much of my foot. Not the look for a floor-length gown.

Also, the style of the skirt is very now. The runched, slightly messy, yet elegant look. The only way it works is if it is even and distributed throughout the skirt. Mine was definitely not even or distributed. The seamstress sighs when I point out the obvious flat areas that will need to be fluffed. She groaned when I asked her to re pin an area that was poorly done and then the situation went from bad - to worse. Now the gown is easily two inches too short all the way around.

My seamstress is convinced she can "fix" this - and re pins all the gathers she has just redone to make them shallow and allow the length to fall. The skirt looks like CRAP. The week before when my niece "M&M" tried on her dress, the seamstress tried the same thing - except LS pointed out the point of the dress was the full, soft gathers and they needed to look deliberate, not pinched and hastily done. LS was getting what she wanted and I totally had her back. When you pay over $200 for a dress, sista, you might as well make sure it's what you want!

With this in mind, I know that this is the look LS is going for - I try to direct the short, rotund woman, who is now perspiring and on the verge of wheezing as she pins and re pins the skirt.

Round and round we go - pinning and re pinning. "Fixing" and re"fixing". I even suggest a different look for the skirt which she refuses to do. Now I admit, I'm no seamstress and I'm not even on friendly terms with needle and thread, so I'm conceding when I say to her "I'm going to have to call LS about this and see what she says," and head to the change room. We book an appointment for this week and I head downstairs.

There is a cloud of brides and their mammas and grandmammas all cooing and clucking and hovering. This is the kind of energy that makes me wish I worked in the bridal industry. That and the billions of dollars it makes every year.

Over the din one of the sales associates calls over to me, "How did everything to up there?" I survey the area and debate. Do I tell her I think her seamstress is past her prime? Slander the woman in front of all these customers? Do I start on a rant about how we discussed extra fabric for my dress because I'm tall and obviously they didn't do it and SHOULD HAVE? No - let's see how the "fixing" works because I'm not carrying the dress out with me and I'm not letting my mouth write cheques my bank can't cash.

So it say it. "FINE." And I leave.

After discussing with LS - she calls the salon. Speaks with one of the sales associates who pulls my file. Under height, she tells LS, it says I'm 5'8. THERE is the problem. I'm not 5'8. I don't ever say I'm 5'8 because I'm taller than that. If I say I'm shorter than I am, clothes are always the wrong proportion. I look like I'm wearing my younger sibling's wardrobe.

Now add a 2 inch heel and you've got the beginning, middle and end of the problem.

LS advises the associate that this needs to be fixed immediately. The sales associate points out that I didn't say there was a problem when I left and LS replies that it was only because I didn't want to make a scene in front of other customers - for which they should be appreciative.

So THIS week, I'm going back down to see what miracle this poor woman has had to conjure to make the floor meet my floor-length gown.

Comedy 'round the Dinner Table

(envision a family of four happily munching away on dinner, the sound of plates being scraped clean and groans of fulfillment.)

"That was really good," said First Born Son.

"Yup - really good, hon," concurs The Big Guy.

"Mom is ALWAYS a good cook," said Second Born Son.

(noting the patronizing tone I reply to him)

"Well, I just want to make you happy."

"Oh you are sooooo good at that," said Second Born Son. "You are always making us happy, except for me, when you won't let me play on the Wii, but we're not going to go there now, are we....."

I need to start selling tickets......