Yesterday, I was in the process of moving my working space in my "crowded city" remote office. Same floor, just different space. After working for a company of this size for more than 2 years, you kind of expect to move every now and again … just for facilities sake, I think. I've been at this same spot for more than 3 years now, so I'm overdue to move. It provided me a chance to purge my desk a little.
I am no good at throwing stuff out. Considering my past job tasks, this has been a very good thing indeed, as I've been able to get information on meetings from 3 years prior and not lose anytime in moving forward with planning a return to that same venue. However, it has also been a very bad thing because I also am no good at filing things. My desk was … trying to find the right adjectives … well, it made sense to me anyway.
I had holiday cards from folks I have no intention of ever contacting again, and holiday cards from sales guys who I will haunt for the rest of their days. I have my red Swingline stapler (hey - that's MY stapler, got it??) I have one Silver Oak wine glass waiting for the day I decide to start drinking again, and interestingly two bottles of equally nice red wine under my desk (which I keep there for emergency purposes - like an earthquake or a difficult Thursday afternoon). I have a thank you note from Olga at Tiffany & Co., who sold me a silver baby gift (that Scott and I sent to Andy in celebration of the arrival of his second daughter), and a newspaper clipping telling me that Jonathan Wright is no longer the executive chef at the Windsor Court Hotel in New Orleans (a GREAT and wickedly expensive hotel. Take my word for it – if *I'm* describing it as "expensive", it is – but VERY worth it.) My gut tells me that much of this stuff should be thrown out, or boxed and stored in my garage until some random weekend when I decide the boxes have aged properly and *then* throw them out. There's only so much space and I've learned in the past couple of years that I NEED very few "things" in my life.
Speaking of "only so much space", I've been TRYING to remember the name of my Great Aunt Ynez's husband since I posted about my July 4th memories. She was already a widow when I was born, so it's not like I have any imprint to reference. However, after deciding NOT to think about it, it came to me in a flash last night as I was making dinner. Don. His name was Don. And I'm sure that I lost some other small piece of information when I came up with that.
Now where was I? Oh yeah - back away from my emergency wine or I'll hit you with my stapler...
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
This evening, on Entertainment Tonight, we’ll talk about … nothing.
It's always fun to speculate about people. Wait – no – what I meant to say was that it's always fun to speculate about OTHER people. Recently, I've become a small focal point of some tiny amount of speculation. As someone who values her private life with "great anger and furious vengeance", this focus in any amount is unwarranted, unnecessary, unrequested, uncomfortable, unneeded and – honestly – it's pissing me off.
As humans, we tend to like talking about ourselves. What do we know the most about – have the most information on, know the most details involving, have the innermost thoughts of if not ourselves? Let's get real – "myspace" wouldn't exist if this weren't true and reality TV would be dead air. (I'm not gonna debate what it is now – I have my opinions, but they're mine.) Don't get me wrong – there are things about me I like talking about – the cheesecake-making, volunteer-working self – but there are things that, no apologies, are no one's damned business but my own. (No, I'm not gonna list them here, dumba$$ - haven't you been paying attention???)
There's a celebrity chef currently who may, or may not, be going through a rough patch in their personal life. Man – you should hear what they're saying about … oh, wait – you probably HAVE heard. I don't watch this person's shows. I don't own any of their cookbooks. I have never met this person or any members of their family. I DO know that there are lots of folks that could also say these same things but boy – they all have their two cents to add in, don't they? Ya' know what? It's my two cents, thank you – I'm keeping it.
Imagine what Mary Hart would have to say …
As humans, we tend to like talking about ourselves. What do we know the most about – have the most information on, know the most details involving, have the innermost thoughts of if not ourselves? Let's get real – "myspace" wouldn't exist if this weren't true and reality TV would be dead air. (I'm not gonna debate what it is now – I have my opinions, but they're mine.) Don't get me wrong – there are things about me I like talking about – the cheesecake-making, volunteer-working self – but there are things that, no apologies, are no one's damned business but my own. (No, I'm not gonna list them here, dumba$$ - haven't you been paying attention???)
There's a celebrity chef currently who may, or may not, be going through a rough patch in their personal life. Man – you should hear what they're saying about … oh, wait – you probably HAVE heard. I don't watch this person's shows. I don't own any of their cookbooks. I have never met this person or any members of their family. I DO know that there are lots of folks that could also say these same things but boy – they all have their two cents to add in, don't they? Ya' know what? It's my two cents, thank you – I'm keeping it.
Imagine what Mary Hart would have to say …
Friday, July 6, 2007
The gift that keeps on giving
I knew that I'd be receiving a birthday gift package from Scott because he told me he'd sent one. I don't think he realized the depth of his gift … and, even though I'm good with words, I don't think I'll ever be able to tell him.
The gift included a copy of the July/August edition of This Old House magazine. On Page 21 is a photo of a mom with 6 kids in front of what looks to be a house that's still got some work to have done on it, which makes sense because that's exactly what it is. The article talks about the work that Architecture for Humanity is doing throughout the Gulf Coast region.
When I look at the picture they've used though, I see a photo of Karen Parker and her six AMAZING children, including Natalie, her second oldest daughter, in front of their new home (not a "house" – a "home"). I know that Natalie is really looking forward to having a room to share with just one sister, instead of two, in an actual HOME, instead of a FEMA trailer. I know this because I helped build that home, and because I met and worked with Natalie, Karen, and the rest of the Parker family.
The article is brief, concise and includes a quote from Kate Stohr, a friend of mine for two years now. We met when I approached her and her husband, Cameron, on behalf of the company I work for, asking if they could please find a project for a bunch of unskilled but eager volunteers in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I vividly remember Cameron's response – "How many and when?" It was *so* totally different from what I'd heard up until that point – which was "we're not ready in New Orleans". After hearing that a couple of dozen times, I wanted to scream "but this was a big fricken' storm and I can walk across New Orleans in half a day. Isn't there anybody who wants help?"
I don't take "no" easily – and that's even more true when I know the person telling me "no" has no authority to represent more than three states worth of people. I was watching the TV after Katrina hit just like everyone else – you can't tell me that the government had a clue as to how to help, even 7 months afterwards. That I ignored so many "no"s until I was told "yes" is just the Irish in me. The difference is that, this time, I was right to continue to push for a "yes".
Someday I'll be calm enough to write Scott a proper thank you for the rest of the things in his package to me – a journal because he knows that each time I go to Biloxi, I write each day for the sake of my company and for the sake of my soul, and a story/cookbook from Matt and Ted Lee, the guys behind the Lee Brothers Boiled Peanuts Catalogue. I'll figure out something clever and charming to say and it will probably come easy to me. If I'm feeling especially talented, I may order something from the Lee catalogue to arrive with my thank you note to him.
But the magazine? It's been in my hands now for more than 4 hours, and I can't look at the Parkers without welling up – knowing that they're home.
How do you thank a friend for a $5.00 magazine that is actually a priceless gift?
The gift included a copy of the July/August edition of This Old House magazine. On Page 21 is a photo of a mom with 6 kids in front of what looks to be a house that's still got some work to have done on it, which makes sense because that's exactly what it is. The article talks about the work that Architecture for Humanity is doing throughout the Gulf Coast region.
When I look at the picture they've used though, I see a photo of Karen Parker and her six AMAZING children, including Natalie, her second oldest daughter, in front of their new home (not a "house" – a "home"). I know that Natalie is really looking forward to having a room to share with just one sister, instead of two, in an actual HOME, instead of a FEMA trailer. I know this because I helped build that home, and because I met and worked with Natalie, Karen, and the rest of the Parker family.
The article is brief, concise and includes a quote from Kate Stohr, a friend of mine for two years now. We met when I approached her and her husband, Cameron, on behalf of the company I work for, asking if they could please find a project for a bunch of unskilled but eager volunteers in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I vividly remember Cameron's response – "How many and when?" It was *so* totally different from what I'd heard up until that point – which was "we're not ready in New Orleans". After hearing that a couple of dozen times, I wanted to scream "but this was a big fricken' storm and I can walk across New Orleans in half a day. Isn't there anybody who wants help?"
I don't take "no" easily – and that's even more true when I know the person telling me "no" has no authority to represent more than three states worth of people. I was watching the TV after Katrina hit just like everyone else – you can't tell me that the government had a clue as to how to help, even 7 months afterwards. That I ignored so many "no"s until I was told "yes" is just the Irish in me. The difference is that, this time, I was right to continue to push for a "yes".
Someday I'll be calm enough to write Scott a proper thank you for the rest of the things in his package to me – a journal because he knows that each time I go to Biloxi, I write each day for the sake of my company and for the sake of my soul, and a story/cookbook from Matt and Ted Lee, the guys behind the Lee Brothers Boiled Peanuts Catalogue. I'll figure out something clever and charming to say and it will probably come easy to me. If I'm feeling especially talented, I may order something from the Lee catalogue to arrive with my thank you note to him.
But the magazine? It's been in my hands now for more than 4 hours, and I can't look at the Parkers without welling up – knowing that they're home.
How do you thank a friend for a $5.00 magazine that is actually a priceless gift?
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