Joining the Thin Club

The Downside of Being Functional

Today is my birthday and I am feeling a little sorry for myself.

I've always been the functional one.  Sometimes that is a good thing.  Looking back at my life, I've accomplished a lot - wrote three books, published two.  I've succeeded in taking the lemons I've been served in my lifetime and used my skills and strength and made some pretty delicious lemonade.  It hasn't been a single-handed endeavor.  I've had help from G-d and others along the way.  But fortitude has always been a tool in my toolbox - and I've used it with pride.

I've worked hard to not ask others for help - and to extend myself to others instead.  I can do it myself.  That's the credo I've been fed from infancy, and one that I am proud of.

So when I meet someone else who claims she is helpless and uses others, without reaching for the fortitude in her own toolbox, who calls on others for every little thing and who functions from a sense of entitlement, I have a hard time understanding.  I even feel slighted.  Like perhaps I've missed out on something cogent in my bid to be independent and strong.  Because without even realizing she is doing it, the other reaches out and helps herself to extreme doses of sympathy, caregiving and nurturing that I would never dare to ask for.  Perhaps that very quality has contributed to my strength over these years.

Is this my life's challenge and something I should address in myself?  I probably should thank G-d that I am mentally and physically able to care for myself without draining the people around me.  But still, there are times when I feel like strong people finish last.  So I am reaching within for strength to deal with this conundrum and to hold my head up and keep going as long as I am on this earth.

Happy birthday to me. 

Living La Vida...BORING!

It's the weirdest thing...I just can't think of a thing to complain about.  Maybe that's why I haven't been blogging much lately.

I mean, of course there are the occasional kvetches - dealing with a dog  when I'm not a "dog person," or learning to live a rural life after living in a city my entire life, or trying hard to make my stepchildren like me, when I realize I can't "make" anyone do anything at all, has its challenges. 

Have I become boring?  Some might say yes.  Am I set in routines?  Hardly.  Every day offers up a new challenge - but not the insurmountable kind - work situations, personal issues - but nothing dramatic. 

I used to pray for a "boring" life, without the daily drama that seemed to control my every move.

These days, as I look out at the lake as I work from my dining room table and anticipate seeing my husband each night, and think about kayaking around as the sun goes down, I realize that life is good and that prayers do get answered.

Parent or "Friend"

"Don't try to be your child's friend," all the parenting books advise.  "You are their PARENT."

So why does it feel rotten when a child "unfriends" you from Facebook, which seems to happen in my life all too often--like every time I express an opinion to a child - or even hint at gentle criticism.

As a parent of three - my youngest being 17 - I have long recognized that I may not always make decisions that make my children happy.  I acknowledge that I am far from perfect.  Lord knows, I have made mistakes and I have my own personal foibles and stubborn desires.  And one of those stubborn desires is to raise my three children to be responsible, mature, and considerate human beings.  That means I have to sometimes set parameters, enforce rules, review the value system that has been integral in our lives - and let them know when I don't agree with some of their personal choices.

"I wish we could be like Amber and her mom," my daughter sighed.  "They sit in her mom's bedroom and talk every night-- about their lives and their innermost thoughts.  They are so close."

"I would love if we could be like that," I told her.  "Why don't we try?"

"Because you don't love me," was the quick response.  "You don't accept everything I do.  You disapprove of some of the choices I make, and refuse to support me when I do things you disapprove of.  You don't like all my friends and you are always judging me with your antiquated value system."

In other words...I am not being a very good "friend" to my daughter.  I am being a parent.

So today when I woke up to find myself written off her "Friends" list yet again, I was not surprised - but disappointed.  And I got to wondering how other parents manage to stay on their children's (and even MY daughter's list).  I'd love some input here.

For all those parents who manage to stay "Friends" with their kids, please tell me:

• If you see your child "hanging" with friends who are engaging in questionable activities, do you just look the other way?
• If you notice your child doing something that goes against your values--and is the antithesis of everything you have ever taught him, do you just take it on the chin and move on?
• If you find compromising photos of your child on Facebook - or photos that clearly prove that he or she is breaking your House rules, do you stay a "Friend" and pretend you didn't see it?

Because I would love for my child to think of us as having that perfect "friendship" like Amber and her mom.  But somehow "Friends" don't let friends drive drunk, but parents take away the car keys.

My Life in 10 File Cabinet Drawers

As I prepare for my mondo move to Michigan - where I can't wait to join my husband, who has waited patiently to welcome me to my new home, I have begun the grunt work of sorting through my "stuff" and figuring out what to take and what to trash.

Since I have been operating a PR agency for over 20-years, that means lots and lots of files.  And since my business pre-dates the paperless office of today, lots of files means lots of paper.  Some of the papers are boring - old records of receivables, cash receipts, the kind of stuff my ex-husband who is a CPA, routinely kept in folders and envelopes.  Some are home-related - old floor plans, swatches of wallpaper and carpet.  And some are child-created - love notes, stories, letters from camp - my three prolific children - the youngest of whom is set to graduate high school today - certainly gave me enough to stock several file cabinets.

As I piece through each file before I send some to the dispose/shred pile and others to my new home, I realize that my entire life is contained in a row of metal cabinets.  Forget the pine box - bury me in a file cabinet.  Everything I ever did - clues to my existence as a rebellious teen through my college years as President of the Film Society to first job at Paramount Pictures Corporation to my married life and subsequent jobs.  My letters of recommendation supporting my ambitions (never realized) to go to law school, books and screenplays started but never finished (there were quite a few of those).  Awards I've won, campaigns I've run.  Research for the books I did complete and manage to publish - and article after article, photo after photo of me in every stage of MEdom. I never realized how many lives I've lived until I attacked those files. And my children - stories and cards they composed when they were so young that gave hints as to who they would grow into so many years later.

I woke up my hours-away-from-graduating senior with a story she wrote and illustrated in first grade, entitled, The Little Bear.  It's about a bear named Cottony who goes to school, makes cupcakes and encounters a "mean girl" on the bus.  He cries at the end because nobody likes him and his mommy assures him that he is liked - because SHE loves him.  And wouldn't you know it - just yesterday Casey and I had that discussion.  "You don't love me!" she cried.  I assured her, I do - SO much.  Precious and prescient is that special story.

Of course, now that society is essentially paperless, most of the papers in my file cabinets are meaningless - but sorting through the piles of paper, I've found some gems - more than enough to fill a time capsule - with treasures that my entire family can read, review and enjoy for years to come.

(Kosher) Food for Thought

Being an Jewish Orthodox woman can be a challenge in the greater world when it comes to socializing and doing business.  While the rest of the world is first beginning to discover the notion of "unplugging" for a day, Jews have been doing it for over 3,0o0 years.  No turning things on and off - lights, cars, blackberries, etc.  Complete focus on one's spiritual self from sundown to sundown every Friday and on quite a few holidays.  When you take on the Orthodox version of Judaism, your life revolves around your faith - and your values and standards shift from secular to Torah-based. 

This past weekend, I got to experience a new way to enjoy a kosher gourmet meal in the finest nonkosher (a.k.a. trayf) establishment in all of Ann Arbor. 

We were invited to dine to celebrate a relative's happy occasion - at Eve, a tony contemporary French restaurant in the Kerrytown section of Ann Arbor.  Before I embraced the Orthodox way of living, which entails strict adherence to kosher laws, I would have happily dined on what looked like amazing seafood, chicken, and beef entrees, and internationally inspired appetizers.  Now that I am strictly kosher, not only am I not going to partake of nonkosher food, but I won't even eat kosher food that is prepared in an establishment that is not kosher.  I cannot drink wine that is not kosher certified.  I won't even eat off dishes in a nonkosher establishment.

Which left my husband and myself in a bit of a quandary.  Because we function in a greater world - a pluralistic world - even within our own families - how could we dine with our friends and family without compromising our religious standards?  In the old days it would have meant airline meals and plastic utensils, as we watched our family enjoying haute cuisine.

My brilliant husband - and he IS brilliant - had a great idea.  He called the restaurant and asked if we could bring our own meals.  Not only our own meals, but our own wine, our own tableware, and our own china.  I decided to go all out for the occasion - if everyone else at the table was going to be enjoying gourmet food, so would our little kosher party of myself, my husband and my daughter.  I made a green salad with mango chunks and roasted almonds in a butternut squash dressing.  I brought along some homemade date-pecan challah, double wrapped in foil so it was warm from the oven.  Our entree was duck a l'orange, garnished with an orange slice, with a small scoop of red quinoa pilaf and a few roasted garlic fingerling potatoes and a sliced vegetable melange.  My husband brought a bottle of Israeli Sauvignon Blanc to pair with the meal.

The restaurant owner, Eve, introduced herself to us and promised to accommodate us in any way possible.  She came from an Orthodox family and was only too thrilled to make it possible for us to join our family celebration in an elegant fashion.  I brought the food double wrapped in foil and watched as they placed it in their ovens.  It has always been my secret dream to work in a fine restaurant, and here I found myself working alongside Eve, a former contender for Top Chef, as we each fussed lovingly over each plate that left the kitchen.  Eve was kind enough to assign a waiter to assist me and she set aside a station just for me in the busy kitchen. What a thrill it was to plate each course and hand them to a group of very solicitous waiters brought them out and served them.  And it was a pleasure to be able to be as much a part of the feast as those who were wining and dining on the other end of the long restaurant table.  No one was feeling sorry for us as we enjoyed our duck and side dishes.  And our berries drenched in almond milk/Amaretto sauce for dessert.

Only one family member had a vocal objection to our meal modifications.  "Kosher - shmosher," she rolled her eyes contemptuously.  "G-d won't be mad if you just give it up for just one meal."

But, see that was the beauty of it all, we didn't have to give up a thing...talk about having our cake and eating it too.  Ain't life grand?

Taking a Break

My workspace has gone from suburban to rustic, as I sit at the cottage, creating lists and negotiating conference calls, as birds tweet, geese squawk and a big lake ripples in the sunshine, just feet away from the glass sliding doors of the new table that houses my laptop.

Before leaving for his conventional job, my husband said, "why don't you take a walk down the road and shmooze with the neighbors - or go for a run to the gravel pit?"

I looked at him incredulously.  On a work day?

I've been working from home since 1989.  The thought of taking a shmooze break - or even a walk break - is bizarre to me.  Until now, my breaks have been dropping my daughter at school at 7 am, picking her up at 2:15 pm and re-immersing myself in work, usually making crucial phone calls from the speaker phone in my car en route.  My husband's former wife never worked.  But now he is married to me - a woman who has identified herself as a working woman from the time I graduated college, through three children and beyond.  And while, as a doctor, my husband works 24/7, answering phone calls at 3 am, he has been able to preserve the sanctity of his home somehow.  Home, to him, means relaxing.  Wow, what a concept!

I explained to him that the computer goes on first thing in the morning as I attack my tasks, one by one, until the to-do list is completed, usually by midnight or so.  Until now, I've eaten my meals over the computer, and even the bathroom was frequently a convenient place to send a quick text message or email via my smart phone (okay, I realize that's probably TOO MUCH INFO).

Bottom line is - a shmooze break is not in my vernacular.  There is no water cooler to entice me. And a coffee break involves making and drinking a quick pot of coffee.  Hunched over my keyboard, as the pretty lake ripples out the window.

But I do take breaks.  My breaks are usually brief - checking Facebook or Twitter to see what friends are saying or what is happening in the world.  Working on my recent wedding, a quick run to the supermarket, throwing a candlelit supper together for dinner (no more cereal and milk over my keyboard for supper), marketing my house and figuring out how to pack - that's all  a break from the client load, although it is hardly a break from the grind of planning, executing and crunching numbers. I guess there are breaks and there are breaks.

How do YOU take a break from work?

Fly the Crazy Skies - If the "Spirit" Moves You

Ever since I began seeing my fiance, I became a frequent flyer.  Between trips back and forth to Detroit and work-related trips elsewhere, I found myself in the air several times each month.  I spread the love around - and take the flights that are most affordable.  Yet nothing prepared me for my close encounter with Spirit Airlines today.

Bing Travel returned an alert that showed that Spirit had a very affordable flight back and forth to Detroit.  Since I'll soon be in a commuter marriage, I jumped on the opportunity and went online at the Spirit Airline's site to book my flight.  I quickly entered my information - perhaps TOO quickly - because at the end of the day, the flight that was advertised for $69 each way ended up costing me close to $300--and the dates I had plugged in somehow shifted.  My return ticket was a full MONTH after I had planned to return.  And I ended up with travel insurance - how the heck did that happen?  The seats they encouraged me to book cost me $20 apiece.  Huh?

Alarmed, I picked up the phone to correct the reservation.  A customer service rep who had a thick Jamaican barely-understandable accent told me he could help me - for a change fee of $110.

I tried not to lose my breakfast - and told him that was unacceptable.  He said, "sorry, that's the policy."

I pulled up Twitter and got ready to Tweet and told the fellow, "I want to speak to your supervisor - and I want you to know that I'm going to go on Twitter and tell the world about your ridiculous travel fees."

Showdown at Spirit Corral

The self-righteous customer-service machismo kicked in and he said he would be happy to connect me with his supervisor.  But, he explained that the supervisor was busy and it may take a while.  "I've got a speaker button on my phone.  I'll wait," I told him. "I've got Twitter all fired up and ready to go."

It took about thirty seconds for the customer service guy to tell me that the supervisor had approved a refund of my errant ticket - and that I was welcome to go online to re-book the ticket on Spirit.  I don't think I'll mess with the Spirit anymore.  The bait, switch and hidden fees method of attracting customers is really distasteful.  While no airline offers great service and excellent prices, I'm sticking to Delta, USAir and United. At least with these airlines, what you see is what you get.

Getting Married

In case you've noticed the absence of blog posts, it's because life got rather busy--and at the same time somewhat more private.  About two weeks ago, the someone special whom I've been seeing for some time, asked me if I would marry him.  Time suddenly stopped.  And life began changing. I said yes.

I wasn't compelled to take it to the airwaves, or sing it from the hills as I've seen so many others do.  and as I've done in the past.  Instead, I told the people that matter to me, and I've been working hard to plan a wedding that will signify the end of a long and broken road - and hopefully the beginning of a new life.

Being a divorced woman has instilled within me a much deeper respect for the commitment that I've made, and an even healthier respect for the institution of marriage that I will soon enter into.  Once you've suffered a burn, you are likely to approach the fireplace with a more cautious attitude.  Cautious but optimistic. I hope I've learned lessons and that the man I love will continue to make me a better person.  

The Awesome Power of My New Phone

So here I sit, contemplating a sleek, new addition to my business.  I’m the proud Grandmama of a bouncing baby Droid. Sliding my fingers over it's smooth surface, trying to make sense of the screen icons, the buttons, the applications, the funny sound it makes when a message comes in, and the ringtone that I have no idea how to customize...I feel like I'm back in Kindergarten, trying to make sense of a complicated "grown up" world.

Only the world I'm trying to figure out is not a grown up one at all, rather one that people thirty years my junior handle with fluency.  The college student who sold me the device, let her fingers skate over the phone seamlessly adding apps, shifting without a pause between phone and email and google.

"Wow, you have over 700 phone contacts!" she announced to the entire Verizon store, impressed that someone my age could possibly have that many people stored on my phone.  "Yeah, I should delete some of my old boyfriends...ya think?" I confessed.  "Cool!" she trilled, showing her fellow-younguns my impressive contact/ex-boyfriend list. 

But when I hit the wrong button on Facebook and my contacts suddenly merged with my Facebook photo faces and profiles, my valuable phone numbers disappeared and I panicked.  The sales associate just rolled her eyes, grabbed the phone and fixed it.  "That's what happens when you sync your phone contacts with Facebook," she scolded.

My head is still spinning and it spun all the way home as I contemplated the awesome power of my new phone.  Not to assign supernatural intelligence to a mere machine, I couldn't help but think, as the Metro-North conductor came around to collect tickets, that it is just a matter of time before he points a phone at my phone and the fare is collected.  No paper, no punches, no tickets to purchase, no receipts, no upgrading from non-peak to peak hour fares.  Just me and my phone.  Point and click. And the record goes to my expense database.  Wow.

The Power of Words

My latest hobby--once a week Talmud study--is teaching me a whole new way of looking at the world.  The Talmud, written 3,000 years ago, is a compilation of discussion, debates and arguments based on presumably simple statements.  Learning Talmud requires a keen and open mind, the ability to wrap your brain around concepts that are derived from basic rules that don't always make sense in today's mindset, and a certain "follow-through" from start to finish as the complex arguments bring in esoteric theorems, random proofs and eventually climax in a resolution of sorts.

The tractate I'm learning involves marriage concepts, which I find, as a divorced woman, particularly intriguing.  The question being pondered is whether a woman can back out of a betrothal.  In today's day and age, of course the answer is moot, as naturally a woman doesn't have to go through with a marriage if at some point during the engagement she determines that the relationship is not appropriate.  But the deeper question being argued in the Talmud is that of commitment.  Can words be used nullify words?  Are words ever considered "actionable"?  And if they are, does it take an action to negate an actionable word?  And if so, how concrete must that action be?

The question is a legal one.  It explores agency--whether, if a woman appoints an agent to find her a man to marry--she can call him off if she finds a man on her own.  It is a philosophical one--looking at words as binding, with the ability to transform an object from one state of being to another.  One Rabbi points out that if you are creating something and midway through the work process, although it could still be considered unfinished, you determine that you have completed the object you are creating--the thought alone can transform your creation from a pending project to a completed object.  If thought can do that, he points out, why should words be considered any less potent.  Can they transform?  Can they be undone?

One of the reasons these debates about words intrigue me, is that things are so different today. Words are bandied about so freely in the world we live in.  They fly at you on twitter and Facebook.  They randomly flit about, exposing some, accusing others, pointing us to inane websites, mind-wasting diatribes, patent stupidity.  Most of today's words profane their very nature.  Because if words are so powerful that, as the Talmud points out, they can bind and transform, shouldn't we all be more wary about how we use our words?  Can words ever be rescinded?  Can they really be undone.  Should we all just stop our words, and perhaps, for once, just...listen and learn?

Shhhhhh...