Full of Thanks

Tomorrow is a day to remember all the graces, the gestures, the kindnesses of all sizes, and to be thankful.

While I'm not a pie-eyed, rainbows and unicorns, "all the world is wonderful all the time" type, I'm well aware that my outlook, in general, is silver-lining lined.  Heck I'm actually thankfull my tire blew out when and where it did because it was followed by general niceness by lots of folks.

I believe in "Thank You".  I believe in smiling.  I believe in being gracious, if at all possible.  Some days it takes a LOT of energy to be gracious and even just to smile.  I know that.  I'm a realist.

My health did NOT turn out as I'd ever thought it would, but I'm thankful that, since I have Parkinson's, I at least have access to the health professionals who help care for me.  My career did NOT turn out as I thought it would, but this path opened up so many other doors for me.

Last week, (and now I'm crying) last week I made a pledge and sealed a life-long bond.

Hell yes, I'm thankful.

Take a minute.  Stand up.  Listen.

Give thanks.

It is SO worth the energy.

Bears Do NOT Use Toilets

One semester in college, I took a course in advertising.  I wanted to learn the basics of why we see (and hear) what we hear (and see) on television.  I don't recall why I chose this exact course, perhaps my parents had said something about me watching too much TV.  (If they didn't, they should have.)

All these maaaaany years later, I still notice more about advertising because of that course.  I notice colors, sooundtracks and actions that subtly (and not-so-subtly) drive home the message we're supposed to get.

So when I see ads that show cartoon bears who don't shit in the woods and have problems using toilet paper, I make a note to never, ever buy that product because I find their line of advertising distasteful and stupid.  There were many ways they could've gotten their message across - this wasn't a good choice.

When I hear ads that feature insipidly sweet-voiced singers telling us to drink their magic pink beverage for an energy boost and they'll donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, I get irritated at the overall stupidity of the agency who got the account.  Having lots of energy (and being pink, for that matter) has - trust me on this - NOTHING to do with cancer.

And while we're at it, showing your sports car skidding sideways across the TV doesn't show me how cool and sleek your car is.  It shows me you've designed a product that can go fast and lose control at the same time, even with a professional driver behind the wheel.  So thanks, but I'll pass.

Lately there's been advertising for Microsoft Internet Explorer 9.  I know it's for IE9 ONLY because I just looked it up.  It could have been for a laptop or a video game or an animated series.  Anyway, the ad shows all the cool things you can do, create, watch, post, find, and listen to using their product.  My issue is the soundtrack.  Yes, having  thumping, energetic background music was a good call.  But did anyone in the agency listen to the lyrics?

"And it feels like I am just too close to love you", warbles the singer.  Wait so I'm supposed to LOVE IE9?  We're just being introduced.  And yet I'm already too close and I can't love it?

"There's nothing I can really say", continues the song.  Isn't IE9 supposed to help me communicate better?  And now I can't say anything at all because I'm too close?  Or don't love it?  Wait- what?

"I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more, got to be true to myself".  So letsee - pre-IE9, I was lying and hiding and faking myself out with other products?  And now, with IE9 (which, again, I'm too close to and can't love) I can be real and honest.  That's convoluted, at best.

"And it feels like I am just too close to love you, so I'll be on my way" which very much makes it sound like I don't get to use IE9 and I'm walking away without it.  The exact opposite thing the advertiser wants me to do.

While it's not part of the advertising being aired currently, later in the lyrics is "I must leave without you.  You know we're headed separate ways."  Nice going, Microsoft - way to get your customer base locked down.

Now the old Meow-Mix ads ... THERE was some great advertising.  Gosh, those were talented felines ...

A Message To Those Who Ran

This morning marked the first time (in a long time) that I didn't hear any ads for "Prop. X" or "Re-elect Senator Smith", etc.  I realize that there were folks in the US that had such ads for nearly a year.  Those people are easy to spot in a crowd - they're dancing with glee in the silence of the morning.

I did my best to avoid the debates and the proclamations and the cheap shots and the out-and-out lies.  It wasn't easy - especially  toward the end where it was all the news reports would cover.  (Don't get me started on "legitimate rape".)  And just when it couldn't get any stranger, someone angered that thing on the top of Donald Trump's head, which woke The Donald up.  (Whomever is responsible for that should just leave the country quickly and quietly.)

I'm enjoying the peace this morning.  This is not at all what I expected.  I anticipated teams of lawyers and hanging chads and finger pointing.  I expected recounts and recalls and ... and I'm just so glad that's not happening.

I do, however, feel compared to say the following to all who ran for any post in any facility at any level:

You spent time, energy, probably money, and brain power (all not necessarily your own) coming up with plans of action and designing solutions to situations that our country, our states, our cities and townships face.  Homelessness.  Out-Of-Control National Debt.  Equal Rights.  Economic Cliffs.  Job losses.  Benefits cuts.  You - or someone whose message you approved - said you had the answer.  You knew the path to take.  You had it all figured out.  You stood there, with the American Flag pinned on your collar and the National Anthem blaring from loudspeakers, rallied the troops and promised you had found the light at the end of the tunnel for this country you love so much.

It's November 7th.  The confetti has been swept from the floor and the banners have been taken down.  Those problems I listed still exist and you, whether you won or lost, still have the answer.  If you won, you now owe it to those who voted you into office to implement your brilliant plan.  No excuses,  We, the people, hired you for this task and we'll be reviewing your progress regularly.  And if you lost?  Well, if you lost, you now have a choice to make.  You can either share your solution with those who can put the wheels in motion, saving your beloved country, and you'll be the hero who did what those in office couldn't do.  Or you can keep your solution as your own secret weapon for the next election, while the problems continue to grow and your beloved country continues to flounder.

The choice was ours.  The choice is now yours.

Damn You, Opie.

It's all Ron Howard's fault.

"Parenthood" is one of those films I can watch everytime it's on.  If you don't like Steve Martin, don't worry - it's got Tom Hulce.  Don't like Mary Steenburgen?  The next scene has Dianne Wiest.  Can't relate to the "perfect yuppy" family? Wait 'til you see what one of the kids finds during a blackout and you'll realize that NONE of these families have it all together.  Just like real life.

So when I heard that "Parenthood" was gonna be made into a TV show a few years ago, I was ready to watch.  Sure the families were different and the actors and characters had been changed but Ron Howard was still involved.  I've been watching since the pilot and, while not every storyline is a home run, if you just wait a few minutes, it will change ... just like in the movie.  Just like in real life.

Well, last week I got worried.  It felt like one of the characters was being given a storyline that was gonna feel false and cheap.  A lead character was given breast cancer.  She already has plenty on her plate - a child who just left for college, another with Asperger's, an infant, a very distracted husband - and this new story could've gone horribly wrong.

Instead, as the Awesome Fiance and I watched, I found myself pausing the show and saying "she's feeling like no one is listening", "he should just let her vent and not say anything", "the doctor she sees isn't a debate she wants to have".  And, over the course of the show, the Awesome Fiance started asking me "what's she thinking about now" or "how is she feeling" and, just like the movie did so long ago, it reflected real life.

But - fair warning - if anyone gets Parkinson's, I'm removing "Parenthood" from our TiVo.

A Low "Ha!"

I haven't written much - or, really, at all - about the incredible two week vacation that the Awesome Fiance and I took this summer.  We've been back for over a month now so it's probably time to revisit it.

I could write about the travel experience itself but the airline (I'll call it "Untied") would probably put me on the "no-fly" list after reading my tirade.  I'd have to create new, more descriptive words beyond "dunder-headed ass clown" and "inept corporate maggot" ... and I'm just not feeling all that creative today.

I could write about this being the ONLY time in my life I've actually taken two whole weeks from work for vacation.  Yes, I had a sabbatical, which was 6 weeks, but in all the 29 years I've been employed, I've never taken two solid weeks of vacation.

I could write about the food ... OH.  MY.  LORD.  THE.  FOOD. ... but that'll probably just make me hungry and I probably wouldn't be able to describe some of the dishes to the level of deliciousness they deserve.

I think I'll write about my overall take-away from the first portion of our two weeks.  The "Family" portion.

Ya' know that family you see on occasion when traveling?  Grandparents, grown children, grandkids ... dining together, smiling and laughing, posing for goofy photos, etc?  The clan that piles out from the minivan and walks into the mall, maybe wearing similar teeshirts ... or the multi-generational gathering on the beach - a few are reading, some are splashing about in the water, the youngest members are creating elaborate piles of sand?  Well, I was part of that family as a child.  My best friend really did have the perfect family and I spent countless hours as an extended, adopted family member.  Oh, they were SO much better than my real family.

Dad was a teacher, an avid weekend golfer, and liked to take rides on his motorcycle.  Mom, also a teacher, liked to go on walks, spend time with her family, and be outdoors.  Son - the youngest member of the family - was into all things bicycle.  Daughter - my best friend - was everything I wasn't ... graceful, very pretty, delicate.  They'd include me on short weekend getaways and I'd see a family who REALLY enjoyed being together.  Parents who had conversations about news and politics and things that didn't involve work or animals or relatives.  Children who played nicely together and went to the movies together - not because they were told to but because they wanted to.  For me, it was surreal.

It was also fake.

I know now that my seemingly perfect adopted family ... was not.  Dad, it seemed, waited until the children were grown and on their own, and then got on his motorcycle and rode away.  Mom developed an eating disorder and handled her divorce as 'tho everything was fine when, clearly, it was not.  Little brother got married *WAY* too young but to a wonderful woman who nursed him back to health for a year after a very nearly deadly motocross accident.  And best friend, who had aspirations on being a psychologist, instead became a grumpy, gloomy, unhappy stay-at home mom who shielded her own small children from their "awful" Grandfather ... even as she herself continued the cycle of cheating on - and eventually leaving - her own spouse.  I stopped being a part of her life after her second child.  We just didn't have anything in common anymore and I got tired of trying to set up the lunch date that clearly was never to be.  We had a mutual friend who kept me updated on her activities and, last I heard, her two oldest children asked to move in with their father because they were tired of being told how awful both he AND their own Grandfather was.

*******************
So while, as a child, I had my seemingly perfect family and my real one, as an adult I knew that my real one was so much better than "perfect".  It was flawed, but flawed in a way I understood.  The members (myself most assuredly included) were maddening, but in a comfortable way.  We have family logic for the things we do - twisted as it is but it is, at least, logic of some sort.  And, as the airplane drifted towards our family getaway home for the week, I thought that I was ready for the quirks and actions and whatnot that were likely to come ... flaws and maddening members and twisted logic and all.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh I was mistaken.

It's an exaggeration, to be sure, that I spent the WHOLE week closing screens, sliding glass doors, turning off lights, turning on ceiling fans, drawing drapes, turning on the air conditioner, and locking front doors.  It's an exaggeration, certainly, that the week was spent washing the same dishes, clearing the same table, drying the same glasses, closing the same freezer doors, and wiping the same counter-top surface.  It's an exaggeration, yes, that my island time was filled with folding towels and doing laundry and explaining how air conditioning works and sharing that, while I was sorry the upstairs was 76 degrees (aka "super cold") in the mornings, our bedroom was still at 87 degrees at 11pm the night before because no one could be bothered to close a door or shut a window to keep the air temperature at a reasonable number - say, somewhere slightly lower than 80.

It did FEEL like the whole week was like that, but I know it wasn't.

"But remember", you say calmly.  "Remember that you were sharing the house with young children and you're not used to young children."

"And that's very true", I reply just as calmly.  "But what makes you think I was talking about the young children?"

*******************
Ahhhhhhhhhhh but they are my people.  They are my family.  Are they perfect?  Ha!  No.  Thank heavens no, they are not perfect.

I Am Jam. Jam I Am.

I've gone through a *L*O*T* of changes in the past few years.  In fact, it would be accurate to say that changes - both big (my job, home, relationship status) and small (radio-listening habits, wardrobe, beverage go-to) - have been a constant for me.

I forget, though, that quite a few of these changes go largely unnoticed, especially by my friends who are based within my previous hometown.  Many are surprised at my living on the East Coast, or my not working in the sales technology sector.  And most have had NO idea that I have Parkinson's Disease.  As I've written here before, it's not the kind of thing one can just mention as an "oh by the way" sort of conversation topic.  If I knew someone who was diagnosed with PD (or something similar) and they shared the news with me, I'd have follow-up questions and I guess I presume that's true of others, too.  I could be wrong.

I was reminded not of what's changed but what hasn't changed in my life just last night, in a very wonderful way.  We sent a box of FMD jams to Shari, an ex-colleague of mine.  Shari and I worked in the same company on the same floor of the same building - and in the same department - for 3 years or so.  I eventually transferred into another division based in another city and, due to our different locations and job demands, I hadn't been able to keep in contact with Shari as much as I would have liked.  And then I moved and ... well ... we lost touch.  She sees Tim on occasion and, I guess, gets brief updates on me via him.

So it seems Shari's box arrived yesterday, and the receptionist alerted her to the delivery via email.  Shari forwarded me the entire email train, copied below.

*****************

From: Christina B/Reception
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:14 PM
To: Shari; Richard; Amber; Lindsay; Jeremy; Jack
Subject: Package in the lobby for you

Hello.

You have a package in the lobby.  Please come to pick up at your earliest convenience.

Thank you,

Christina B

*****************

From: Shari
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:15 PM
To: Christina B
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you

Hi Christina,

I am leaving for Korea and be back on Monday.  Can you hold it for me until Monday?

Thanks

Shari

*****************

From: Christina B
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:16 PM
To: Shari
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you

Hello,

Yes of course. We will hold it in our locked closet till then.

Have a safe trip!

Christina

*****************

From: Shari
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:20 PM
To: Christina B
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you

Thanks.  Do you know what it is?

*****************

From: Christina B
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:22 PM
To: Shari
Subject: RE: Package in the lobby for you

Not really - there's a sticker that says “homemade jam”.

*****************

From: Shari
Sent: Monday, September 17, 2012 3:27 PM
To: Julie
Subject: FW: Package in the lobby for you

Hi Julie,

You are the best!  Did you send me jam?  I am not in the office and asked the receptionist to hold it for me.

Thank you so much!  I am sorry that I didn’t get to see you when you came by.  I always ask Tim about you.  I hear that you are engaged!  Congrats!  I am very happy for you.

I really appreciate you always thinking of us.  Hopefully we’ll connect next time.

Take care,

Shari                                                                                                                                                                               

*****************

Yes, much has changed.  But, comfortingly, I still = "homemade jam".

FMD ... Arriving NOW Across The Country!

Whelp, it's that time of year again.

Over the past couple of days week, we've shipped out 14 22 boxes, each with 6 flavors of FMD goodness.

We have at least a dozen more boxes to assemble and/or ship - some we're waiting on to confirm addresses, others are being held while late-Summer vacations come to an end.

While we've managed to ship out 86 132 jars, we still have more jars in inventory than we even created in all of 2011 ... which is a little crazy to think about.

Just think ... FMD will be arriving to homes in over 20% 27% of the 50 states in this week alone.  That's also kinda crazy to consider, since I'm 50% of the FMD employee base.

I mean - did you even figure there WERE 41 flavors of jams?  And heck - there's still a few fruits we haven't tried yet ('tho, honestly, there aren't too many ... but there's a few).

 Thanks to the other 50% of FMD's employee base, recipes have been diligently kept, so if there are any "out-of-the-ballpark-homerun" flavors, we'll be able to recreate them in the future.

But, for now anyway, we'll keep shipping out the 2012 creations.  Since taste is a subjective thing, I know a few of our creations may better received than others but, overall, I'm a fan of the work we did this year.

 

For now, all we can do is just wait and see what the rest of the country says.

{Updated on Friday 09/07/2012}

On "Hook", and Off the Grid

Quite literally, I *just* read that actor Bob Hoskins ("Who Framed Roger Rabbit?", "Mermaids", "Hook") has announced his retirement at the age of 69, and that he was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease last Fall.

I don't know that he's retiring BECAUSE of Parkinson's and the brief article didn't say that.  Retiring at 69 isn't unusual so if it was just that he felt he was done with acting, hey - who can begrudge that?  But the article didn't say that he wasn't retiring because of Parkinson's and - if that's the case then, honestly, I'm bummed.

Depending, of course, on how long he waited before he saw his doctor and depending also on how fast he's progressing, now isn't the time to slow down.  Heck - my own Neurologist is on me all the time for not getting out and moving MORE, and I don't consider myself to have that much of a sedate lifestyle.

Of course, I'm also not 69 years old.  What the hell do I know about being 69 years old?

Being diagnosed - of anything, really - DOES knock the wind out of your sails, it's true.  It will rob you of sleep.  It will ruffle your feathers and seep into your thoughts and dreams at the strangest times.  It will yell hateful, awful things into your ears at your most reflective moments.  Being diagnosed is draining, in and of itself.

One either lives with a diagnosis or dies from it.

Me?  Yeah, I'm living with it.




****************************


I'll be on vacation for two weeks.  You all be good to each other.

Take fun, have care.  - J

The Blame Game

Little Bobby isn't crazy.  He just listens to heavy metal music too much.
Little Janie isn't cruel.  She just sits too close to the TV.
Mr. Smith didn't know what to do because he was neglected as a child.
Ms. Jones didn't mean to be careless but the baby wouldn't stop crying.

Have you ever felt like you were the only responsible person on the planet?

I'll be the first to admit that hindsight is always 20/20 and that judging a situation from a birds-eye view gives one an unfair advantage but geeeeeez I am really getting tired of seeing people NOT stepping up to the podium and saying "this is all on me.  I did this.  I am fully to blame for what happened."

It's so much easier to deflect that glaring hot spotlight.   "This is all on me.  I did this.  I am fully to blame for what happened" is all too often followed by a single word.

But.

"but I haven't slept in more than a week."  "but I didn't FEEL drunk."  "but I didn't think people would believe me so I just didn't say anything."  "but I didn't think anyone would notice the money was missing."  It starts out about someone else getting the short end of the stick but then the responsible party turns the spotlight back on themselves as being the unsung victim.

From mothers to murderers to friends to fathers, from coaches and co-eds, bullies and braggarts, robbers and rapists, and every other kind of so-called "misunderstood" human who has ever gone haywire.  The most miserable wretch ... the lowest form of homosapien ... the weakest link on the ladder that is the genetic code that creates every man or woman ........ they do something incredibly stupid or terrifically horrible and expect to be shown pity or leniency or mercy that they were unable (or unwilling) to show to their victim.

Mahatma Gandhi is credited for saying "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind".  Gandhi is also credited for this:  "There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall.  Think of it -- always."

If it makes you feel any better, even Gandhi had limits ... this is also his:  "I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers."

The Cat Burglar

Well it seems we have a cat burglar in our neighborhood.  Not just "in our neighborhood", actually, but in our home.  Right now, in fact.  I can even identify this cat burglar.

We once called him "White Kitty".

Now we call him "Murphy".

Since the great Summer power outage of 2012, Murphy has called our downstairs his home, his bachelor pad, his very own man ... er ... cat cave.  Now that he lives under our roof with us, I've learned a few things about him.

(1)  He's strong.  When I hold Shiloh, I'm aware she weighs more than a cat should, but it's not "solid" weight - it's fluffy and soft.  Holding Murphy feels like you're holding a solid muscle.  He's buffed out.  If he lived on the beach, he'd be working out every day.

(2)  He's inquisitive like cats are, but very timid.  He wants to see what is going on, but it also terrifies him.  He wants to play with his "fish on a line" toy, but the noise it makes freaks him out.  He wants to meet the other kitties in the house, but he doesn't know anything about cats.

(3)  He's VERY nocturnal.  From the time I leave for work to the time I come home, it appears that he sleeps.  He also sleeps from the time I arrive at home until about 9pm.  At 9pm, he's as pleasant, as cuddly, as wonderful as any cat can be.  It kills me that I can't stay up with him until midnight or so just to hang out with him.

************
A weekend or so ago, the Awesome Fiance and I went to our favorite frame shop to drop off some art and then to the store for a few things.  Having just recovered from the power outage, we needed to restock.  Shiloh was, as usual for that time of day, sound asleep in her room.  Tabby had the run of the upstairs and Murphy had the run of the downstairs.  (Caring for three cats that either don't know or don't like or can't be trusted enough to be left together can be a REAL pain.)

We returned a few hours later.  Knowing that Murphy could easily be waiting by the door and could maybe dart outside, I went in first.  After a brief glance at the bottom and top of the stairs to see if it was "Murphy-free", I pushed open the door at the top of the stairs which leads to our kitchen.  I rounded the corner and noticed a bit of Tabby-colored fur.  This time of year, it's not unusual to find a tumbleweed of kitty fur, but as I looked further, I noticed another small fluffy clump ... and then a third and fourth.  "Uh oh" I muttered.  I glanced into the living room, expecting to see Tabby somewhere but, instead was met with a lovely pair of large, bright blue eyes.

Murphy was sitting on the chair, waiting like a character from The Godfather.  He was expecting me.  A glance at his coat seemed to indicate no obvious injuries.  I turned back to the kitchen and was met with a lovely pair of even larger, bright green eyes.

Tabby was sitting under the table.  She seemed to have an expression full of questions on her fuzzy face.  "What IS that?  How did it get in?  What the hell IS that???"  These were good questions.  How DID he get upstairs?  By this time, the Awesome Fiance was in the kitchen, too.  He was ... un-amused.  I escorted Tabby past Murphy (who was still waiting for me while he sat on his chair) and we went to our bedroom.  Tabby was completely pissed off as she stomped by Murphy for a brief exchange of words, but she was, at least, uninjured.  Just upset.  "No seriously - what the hell WAS that thing?" she seemed to continue to ask me as I checked her out and tried to calm her down.

I went back to the living room to Murphy, who had two tiny Tabby-sized claw marks on his nose, and we went downstairs.  I pushed the kitchen door to allow us downstairs and, for a brief second, thought "he opened this??? but ... no ... it's a heavy swinging door.  He'd have to run fast after opening it or it'd start to close on him."  We sat downstairs and, after a moment, Murphy went to a favorite spot to hide away and nap.

************
Since that event, I've envisioned (in almost cartoon fashion) what this must have been like to see:  Murphy cautiously darting up the stairs after he is sure we'd left.  Tabby sniffing under the door and then walking into the living room for a nap.  Murphy hearing Tabby and pushing against the door, not realizing that it'd open and then, when seeing it would, butting his head against it until he flopped through.  The door closing behind him - locking him in and sealing his fate.  Tabby, alarmed by the commotion, re-enters the kitchen and they exchange looks.  Murphy tiptoeing past Tabby, while she yells at him for breaking and entering.  Shiloh waking up and demanding to know what's going on.  Murphy turning his head in Shiloh's direction and then turning to Tabby, who smacks him in the face and squarely on the nose.  Murphy telling Tabby to knock it off, causing Tabby to purposely fluff her fur in an effort to look larger than she is.  Murphy scrambling onto the living room chair, not daring to reenter the kitchen where Tabby is still yelling and not able to hide in the hallway where he's hearing Shiloh.  He sits, trapped in the chair.  Tabby sits in the kitchen, trapped by Murphy's location.  Shiloh, having missed the excitement, is bummed out and goes back to bed.  We return home to witness the aftermath and wonder about the goings-on.

But today, some of it came true in an even funnier fashion.  As I was washing his breakfast bowl out, I noticed a noise behind me.  I glanced to my right and saw the kitchen door swinging closed, and then open again as it was being pushed by a strong, muscular, all-white paw.

Oh he IS a smart ninja kitty, he is.

Un Gatto Racconto

Cast of Characters:

Tabby  (also "Tabitha", "Mathilda ", "Meow")

Murphy (also "Murph", "White Kitty")

The Scene:
It is Summer in a suburb somewhere on the East Coast.  Several States are in the grasp of a heatwave that will crush long-standing records.  To add insult to injury, more than 1,000,000 homes have been without power for several days following a freakishly strong storm and there is no official word when electricity will be restored.  The home where the scene is set is one such residence.  Power was lost on Friday at 11:10pm.  It is now Monday at 4:45am.  With no air conditioning available, Tabby and Murphy were relocated to the relative cool of the basement, which was divided into separate, single feline "rooms" to prevent any arguments.

Action:
Female Human, asleep in bed above the basement, wakens to hear what may be distant sounds of a cat yowling.  She slowly trudges through the home and makes her way down the stairs, expecting to see chaos but, instead, is greeted by calm.

Puzzled, female human slowly reviews the room and locks eyes with an innocent-looking Tabby.  With no obvious signs of trauma, female human then advances to see into the second "room", where she is greeted with an equally innocent-looking Murphy.

Realizing that there is no problem, female human then turns to trudge back upstairs but, before she's left the area, hears Tabby rather emphatically say "meeeeeowww".

A beat goes by.

Murphy then responds with an equally meaningful "meeeeeowww".

Next from Tabby is "merrrowww".

Murphy counters with his own "merrrowww".

Confused but with no action required, female human makes her way back up the stairs, through the home and back into the bedroom.

Male Human stirs as female human crawls back into the bed.  "Everything alright?" he sleepily asks.  "Mmmmhmmm" says female human.  "They weren't fighting then?" male human continues.  "No" she responds.

Silence falls over the room.

Then female human adds "Tabby was just teaching Murphy a bunch of Italian swear words."

More FMD 2012 Fruit Pics

I've already posted a few pics of the fruit we're using for jam (link).  Well, as is often the case, I should have ended that post with "... but wait - there's more!"

Those are yellow cherries.  No, not Rainiers, which always have some blush on them but these are straight-up yellow.  I've seen them referred to as "Stone Harvest Gold" cherries, but who knows.  They're a nice balance between tart and sweet and they made GREAT jam.  I hope we find them again next year.

These are, of course, blueberries.  See how some of them have stems?  Yeah, well before we jammed them, we picked through each berry to remove those stems.  There were over 20 pounds of berries, by the way.  Ponder that when you're enjoying this on toast, ok?  We didn't just slap these guys together - each berry gets inspected.  THAT's why I don't "sell" FMD jam.  I'd have to charge way too much.  (Note "sell" is in quote marks there.  This year, there will be a way to donate anything you'd like to contribute to a worthy, fully tax-deductible cause very close to my heart.  More on that later ...)

Raspberries.  I just love 'em - maybe even more than strawberries.  The ONLY drawback are the seeds.  So these are also inspected piece by piece to make sure that there are no leaves or cores and then I split the quantity in half and remove the seeds of one pile by pushing them through a sieve.  Or, at least, that's what I *used* to do.  This year, thanks to The Awesome Fiance, we used the Kitchen Aid mixer with a strainer attachment and geez - it did the task in just under an hour (and yes, that's a huge improvement).

Unfortunately there is no such shortcut for blackberries.  See how those raspberries above are hollow?  And see how these lovely blackberries aren't?  Well, while there's no reason to de-seed a blackberry, I do take the time to remove those cores.  It's just for looks, mostly.  If ya' don't remove the core, they can look like little white worms and ... well ... yeah, that's just not cool.  So we purchased close to 19 pounds of blackberries and once again, each one was inspected and cores were removed.  It's ok, really.  I don't mind.  I don't like creating something half-way great so if it means a few extra hours, so be it.

There will be more fruit pictures soon ... but that should cover things for now.

Go To Hell

It could be worse.
No one is on fire.
No one is shooting at me.
No limbs are at risk.
No lives are at stake.

I embrace that.  Really, I do.  I am now, and have always been, the glass-size-is fine type.  I have found silver linings in the darkest things.  (Health issues?  Thank heavens for well-informed doctors.  Car troubles?  Automobiles are a luxury.  Airplane delay?  Travel is amazing in this century and airports are great for people-watching.  Bad hair day?  What a cute hat!)

Along with a good portion of the state, The Awesome Fiance and I lost our electricity late Friday evening.  It was hoooooooooooooot that day.  We scrambled Saturday morning, calling vets to see about boarding the cats (no dice - no power there, either), rearranged the entire house to move the felines into the basement (yay!  moving hot, angry cats to strange parts of the home is sweaty work!), picked up dry ice for our home (and two others), adjusted our whole weekend plan (more jam-making) and tried to keep our heads on straight.  We skipped dinner (it was too hot to eat) and spent the night in two different homes (notice I didn't say we SLEPT in different homes ... there was very little sleeping where I was due to bouncy kitties and a not-comfortable sleeping surface).  Sunday morning started early with setting up a generator to power the bare essentials in three homes (not including air conditioning unfortunately) and lots of sitting in the dark trying too not notice it was 87 degrees inside the house before Noon.

Oh - and our air conditioner was having issues last weekend, too, so this was the second weekend in a row with too-much in-home heat.

And I drank a big gulp of sour milk (accidentally).  And got chewed up by mosquitoes.  And The Awesome Fiance walked into the corner of a dresser and bruised the heck out of his arm.  And we sweated.  A lot.

By Sunday mid-day, we were done with it.  We went out for lunch and to a bookstore - mostly for the indoor cool air.  We reluctantly headed back home and re-rearranged the feline population, recognizing it was too warm inside for them to be too angry at each other.  The house properly trashed (boxes everywhere, hastily arranged drapes, cardboard blockades in stairwells), we gave up by 9:30pm and tried to get *some* rest.

So of course the power popped back on at 10pm.

Thus began the un-trashing of the house, the un-hooking of the generator, the re-re-rearrangement of the now totally over it felines.  Showers were taken, fans were strategically placed and by Midnight, we were nearly back to normal.  I awoke at 4:45am to relocate the final feline (once the air conditioning had done the trick upstairs) and pretty much was up from that point onwards ... just in time for work.

So go ahead and tell me to be grateful that the power is restored (I am) and that the air conditioning is even available (of course).  Remind me that there huge wild fires eating up a good portion of Colorado (I'm aware of that) and that we're lucky our water service was never interrupted (I agree).

And I will still tell you to kindly shut the fuck up.

Blast From My Past

This is Charlie Horse and Humphrey Hambone.  They were a HUGE part of my childhood television viewing.  This was my second favorite spot ... still trying to find the "honeybees" one.

Anyway, enjoy!

Yay Me!

I done good.

A few years back, for our first birthday(s) "together", I managed to *really* surprise The Awesome Fiance (then known as The Awesome Boyfriend) with a seemingly simple gift ... a lunch box.  It wasn't actually all that simple and involved some pretty good Internet search skills, quick fingers, and putting my trust in the seller of said lunchbox that the item was as pictured.  (It was.)  Anyway, the gift went over well and was greatly appreciated, judging from his reaction and from his writing about his memories with his original lunchbox on his blog.  (Anytime I think I write well, I visit his blog and know I'm not all that talented after all.  I DO WISH HE'D RETURN TO WRITING *ahem* ....... but that's not my decision to make.)

Since that birthday gift exchange, we've had a few occasions to exchange presents - anniversaries, Christmases, birthdays - and I've wished to be able to come to the same level as that original gift.  Which is not to say I've been phoning it in on the gifts I've given, but - for that particular gift anyway - I felt I'd peaked and wasn't measuring up.

I knew what I wanted to do for this birthday for a few months now - upgrade our flights on our Summer vacation.  It was gonna take creativity, a little deception, a LOT of luck, and some financial wrangling.  I mapped out the order of things I'd need to do so that I didn't miss any steps.  One wrong move and I'd wind up with a surplus of airline miles and no way to turn them in ... or, worse, seats but no miles to secure them with.

One random Saturday morning, the airline alerted me via email that the miles were in my account.  The email arrived at something like 4:30am and I read the message at 6am.  I reeeeeally wanted to sleep in but I knew I'd never forgive myself if I screwed this up (plus I didn't really have a backup plan if this fell through) so I dragged myself carefully from the bed and slowly walked from our bedroom to the living room.   Tabby looked at me from her bed as if to scold me for messing up her routine so I quietly sat down and, took a deep breath and crossed my fingers, logged into my airline account to see what, if anything, was available in the way of better seats on our flights.

As it turned out, being awake at that hour worked out quite well.  Seats were requested and granted and fingers were uncrossed.  Now, how to wrap them.  It's not as 'tho anything is done via actual paper anymore.  No one has actual airline tickets ... confirmations, yes but even those are likely electronic.

A quick search of words ("travel" and "folder") brought me to a vendor in Texas who had a collection of 1950s travel-focused items, including original airline-created travel folders.  If one was traveling in the 1950s, one worked with a travel agent, who would issue actual tickets, luggage tags, a fully-customized itinerary and a pen by the airline they'd be using, all bundled up in a folder specific to the region the flight was headed.  It was just dumb luck that the folder was created by the same airline we booked with going to the same area that we'd be venturing to.

From there, I found a few grocery items either associated with or containing the name of our destination, and appropriate wrapping to use to decorate the gifts with.  (I used a tablecloth that had decorations of our vacation spot.  Hey - sometimes ya' need to be creative.)  I swung by a clothing store for a "travel" themed shirt and contacted my local florist to recommend a vendor to provide me with the right flowers.

Well, it all came together.  Last night, The Awesome Fiance experienced his virtual vacation-themed birthday.  Everything worked out great and it was all appreciated.  It may not have been much to open/unwrap, but he mentioned a few times he saw the thoughtfulness I'd put into it and that ... well, that honestly was what I was REALLY hoping for.

We're now 364 days away from his next birthday.  I'll give myself a few months before I start thinking about what I'll do for it.

... And Many Morrrrrrrrrrre!

Happy Birthday to you.

Happy Birthday to you!

 




Happy Birthday Dear Human who caters to my every mewed whim ...

Happy Birthday to you!

Good Enough Isn't

Out of all the different ingredients that can be added to a batch of jam (and there are a TON of available options if you're willing to get creative), the one that makes the biggest difference to the end result is the fruit being used.

If you can talk to the individual who planted or watered or weeded or picked the fruit you're planning to use for jam, it's the closest thing to getting a guarantee that your end result will be pretty great stuff.

No matter what experts say, I don't believe that there's a substitute that tastes as good as "field fresh" fruit.

It's true that you CAN make jam from frozen stuff where you don't have to remove stems or seeds or pits, it's also true that it's that frozen taste you're gonna be preserving - and since there will always be more bags of frozen berries available, why would you need to "preserve" that??

For me, it's the difference between a garden tomato and a supermarket tomato.  They're the same thing, but they taste like they're barely related to each other.  So for everyone who says "Well heck - I can BUY jam at the supermarket" - yes, yes you can.  But it's never gonna taste like this.

Nice Going, Moron!

When I came to a decision on what to name this ... this place, "Fall to Grace" seemed to fit.  I strive to be fairly graceful, both in movement and in tact, and a lot of times I fall short.

I try not to take pleasure or smile knowingly when I see someone "put their foot in it" because I've been that person oh so many times.  I've never asked a woman "when are you due?" and have them turned out to not be expecting a child, because simple common sense tells me not to ask that question unless I have confirmed knowledge that she is, in fact, pregnant.  I have, however, managed to put myself in plenty of awkward situations over the decades.  It's not fun.

That being said, I recently was part of an audience to an exchange that, honestly, both pissed me off and humbled me.  Someone - not me - made a "funny" remark as a response to an UN-funny situation because ... well honestly, I don't know why.  I can only guess that their common sense trigger didn't ignite.  To the credit of the recipient of the remark, rather than climb up one side and down the other and dope-slap the moron, the benefit of intent was given and everyone moved on.

Seeing someone do something dumb and taking pleasure in it may not be my way.  However, watching someone do something that good ol' common sense would typically jump up and say "HEY!!!  That's NOT a good idea!   Step away from the snarling, rabid mongoose!" ... well, that's another story.

But I'd rather focus on the actions of the anti-moron (in the above situation) for a moment.  This individual was given a bright green light, red carpet lined runway, all fees paid pass to rip said-moron to shreds, but did not.  Instead the person actively chose to respond with class and grace that I just am in awe over.

I've already had a few awkward moments and exchanges when it comes to my having Parkinson's - nothing major or terribly insulting but still a little "crunchy".  I've made it a point to have everyone feel at ease about asking me questions (which is NOT my nature because of my tendency to protect my privacy at all costs) because I want to be at ease about my Parkinson's.  It's a practice I hope I can continue down the line.  No matter how tempted I may be from the all-fees paid pass to do otherwise.

FMD 2012

Healthy pets (and humans).
Sunny mornings.
Sharing something I think is tasty ... and having others say so, too.

It's June (at last!) and the weather is encouraging the ripening of fruit as you read this.  "FMD" HQ, which is to say our home, has been stocking up on jam jars, tasty ideas, new methods of incorporating flavors, and contacting local farms to warn them we'll be placing fairly decently-sized orders of various fruits as they become available.  (What's a fairly decently-sized order?  How about "Hello Ryan?  Yeah - any chance we'll get those 20 pounds of cherries this week?  Great!  See ya' then.")

Having recently completed creating 7 different strawberry-based flavor combinations (resulting in 75 filled jars), we're planning on moving on to cherry-based jams this weekend.  I'll post pictures of the fruit we're using (because I think the first pic I took looked great - I just need to upload it so I can add it here) and, as the batches are done and stored, will share some of the 2012 new flavors.

I WILL say now that the two taster-jars I brought into work today were overwhelmingly approved.  I don't let anyone just say "nice job" or "mmmm" as I would much rather know what is working - or not - for each flavor (and each taster).  As much as "mmmm" is nifty to hear, it doesn't really inform me much and I'd almost rather hear "uh - yeah - that ... that's too bitter" than just get "mmmm" as a review.

It's nice to create good-tasting things.  It's pretty damn cool to hear others say things like "I know you won't officially SELL these but *oops* this $10 just fell onto your desk."

In short, making jam that folks enjoy makes me smile.  Lucky for them, I like to smile A LOT.

FMD 2012.  Coming soon, to a mailbox near you.

Just A Mutter Day In The Office

I like my job.
I like the environment I work in.
I like that I get to do different tasks.
I like that if I don't like what I'm doing at the moment, I'll be doing something different soon enough.
I even like the people I work with and for.

However

I work in a pretty small office suite.  I'm in the main part and there are three offices that span from mine.  The two offices in the front are occupied by quiet workers with calming voices and good office etiquette.  They know that if they're gonna be in a phone conference that shutting their door benefits the office environment and helps them to concentrate more on their meeting.  They know not to listen to their voice-mail on speaker-phone mode (or to at least turn down the volume before doing so).  They don't hold impromptu meetings in the center of the suite (which would essentially be next to my desk).  And they know not to stand behind me and read over my should when I'm typing and trying to ignore them so I can concentrate on my work.

The office closest to mine is occupied by two individuals.  The first - Dee - is a knowledgeable, soft-spoken, even-tempered woman who has been in this department for at least a decade.  She is an early riser, too so she's always first in the office to arrive (typically around 6am) and first to leave (3pm).  She knows the ins and outs of our specific department and I rely on her to answer my occasional query of "who should I ask about ...?"

The second individual - Ell - is also knowledgeable.  She is NOT soft-spoken, or even-tempered, and she's been working as a temporary employee for 6 months.  She worked for the business for close to 20 years, retired and, after a few months, decided she had too much time on her hands.  She is scheduled to be here two days a week but continues to find reasons to be in more than that.  None of that bugs me at all.  No, what irritates me is the discussion of all she is doing.

I don't need to know, for instance, that she's going down the hall for a few moments to get coffee or use the restroom.  I don't need to know that she's gonna get a few tootsie rolls from the basket in the center of our suite before she begins to work on her next task.  I don't need to know how her previous department got rid of their petty cash box because it was never kept locked.  (And, for the last time, that is NOT a petty cash box.  It is a deposit drawer for folks who sign out keys.  When the key is returned, so is the money and the entire transaction is tracked via signed records which I have from 1997 onwards.  I don't make change from that drawer, I don't refund soda machine ripoffs from that drawer or let people buy stamps from that drawer.  Finally that box is kept locked, in a locked drawer, in a locked office within our locked-during-off-hours suite.)  I don't need to know that the system she used before SAP was so much easier because blah blah blah.  I don't need to know that the manager she used to work with in a different department from a different decade had thus-and-such policy.  None of this has anything to do with anything on my desk today.

The positive side is that when she does shut up, Ell is a huge asset to our team.  She knows SAP inside and out and can find most any information I might need.  She was able to step into a vacant position and immediately picked up the ball, which was terrific.  She takes her (temporary) job seriously and responds to emails and issues rapidly.  But none of this is done without an accompanying near constant narration.  And these aren't under-the-breath mutterings ... these are out loud, full voice "and now I will follow up on that check request" discussions to - well - to no one.  Which makes days she's here "Mutter Days".

Today is just a mutter day.

For Edward and David and Tim and Joan and ...

Thank you, Mr. President, for seeing that “separate but equal” is always … ALWAYS … only a 50% accurate phrase, at best.