Archive for the 'The Business of Life' Category

Honey, I’m home!!!! Getting on with 2008 by getting out the door.

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2008

Yes it’s been too long since we have talked! No, I wasn’t on some exotic vacation trolling white sandy beaches searching for something worth picking up. Instead I was stuck in 2007, unable to move on to the new year until I did my homework – I had to close out my company books and send them off to my friendly bean counter. This annual ritual gives him the opportunity to take the “happy” out of “Happy New Year” for me by crunching all my tax numbers while simultaneously dispelling any illusions I may have had about a prosperous new year.

Once my work was done, covered in paper cuts, I clicked my ruby mouse twice and like magic found myself in the land of 2008.

And what did I find ?

I woke up, sat down with my cup of hot coffee, looked around my comfortable little nest as I do every day and felt a new feeling. Had no idea what it was to begin with. Then it came to me. It was boredom! I was actually, profoundly bored.

I don’t expect to rock your world with this announcement but it rocked mine, because, you see, for the past year I have been perfectly content being a shut-in covered in Persian cats.

My God, it took me an entire year to get bored with having no life!

Now that’s what I call staying power or more accurately, staying in power.

So with the fervor of the recently converted I put my plan together.
I would get social – whatever that means.
I would change my hair.
I would get happy with my body.
I would walk out my front door on a more regular basis.

How have I done so far?
2 lunches with friends
1 dinner
2 movies in a real theater
1 haircut with new color and streaks
I theater night – Menopause the Musical
All of the above involved walking out my front door.

Results:
I realized that my front door needed a new locking mechanism.

I discovered that for the longest time my very own 86 year old mother has thought my hair cut/color was boring. I gotta tell you when an 86 year old woman tells you this you gotta pay attention!

Not wanting to go too far over the top I decided to back away from the possibility pictured below. Although I recognized that the face jewelry would be effective in camouflaging my wrinkles, my heightened aversion to pain won out. However, if any of you could Photoshop my face onto this picture I would love to send it to my mother. She’s been asking for a photo of my new “do”. That rendition would certainly get her attention.

hair

Everyone, including my hair dresser found it necessary to tell me that changing my hair color would not change my life. I must have forgotten to have the word “stupid” surgically removed from my forehead before visiting with them.

Upon hearing of my new plan, my girlfriends immediately offered to help me find a man. Apparently all I need to change my life is a boy toy. Never once did they offer to give me batteries for my birthday. Perhaps they assumed I was already well stocked.

I watched the premier of “How to Look Good Naked” – more about that later.

I am researching the purchase of a new bathroom scale – one that measures all that body mass stuff. I am also looking for a doctor wise enough to prescribe Valium to help me deal with what the scale has to say. If you can recommend a good scale (or a sympathetic doctor) I would appreciate hearing from you.

I am working up to using my reclining bicycle as an exercise machine rather than a piece of furniture – one baby step at a time.

So there you have it.

How about we all work together on making this year new?
I don’t know about you but I could sure use the support.

Til the next time.

Shabby Chic

Back to the beginning

Sunday, December 16th, 2007

During my “staring at my BB (blank blog) stage” I accessed a few established blogs to see what other people were writing about. Can’t say that I became immediately inspired by the ones I checked out. It may have been just my bad blog choices. Not that the writing wasn’t good, a lot of it was. I think it was more the subject matter that caused me to click on down the road. Perhaps, because I no longer have small children to talk about. I don’t know. Frankly,I’ve never really liked children that much, other than my own. I realize that most civilized people expect women,to like children. To admit that I don’t may not reflect well on my nature. In my defense I do like puppies and kittens. Trust me, I have a good and loving hearty damn it! Also, I might add that if asked, my daughter Lauren would tell you without hesitation that under the right circumstances I am very capable of being a real mother. So there you are. Anyway, as a result of this maternal deficit I was not transfixed by tales of other women’s adorable, or not, rug rats.

That it not to say that I won’t relate enormously embarrassing childhood stories about my grown-up girls. I will of course. But that falls more under the category of me being a real mother.

What I did pick up from other bloggers was the bio thing. Seemed like a good idea for you to know a little something about Shabby Chic. I had planned to do that first. Seemed like an easy way to start. After all, most days I remember who I am. But then life or rather death intervened and I jumped head first into the Passing Words piece.

Now I will go back to the beginning.

My name is Susan. I am a 57 year old white (whoops should I say Caucasian? I can never remember) woman. Anyway, my skin is white - mind you, not as white as my daughter Lauren’s - she damn near glows in the dark (that is her Irish father’s fault), but white nonetheless.

I am separated ( 4 1/2 years and counting) from my husband/partner of 27 years. I do not live alone. I share my domestic nest with 2 persian cats. I used to live in this same cozy space with 4 cats and 1 dog. Knowing that I was precocious as a child, my friends accepted my herd of animals as my getting a head start on senility.The passing of 3 of my old room mates have made me seem somewhat less eccentric to the general public. Proof positive that appearances are usually deceptive and not to be to be trusted.

I was born in Canada eh, raised in Toronto and have lived in the States, LEGALLY for the most part, since 1981. To say that I was raised in Toronto is not entirely accurate - I was raised in the burbs -Cooksville back then, Mississauga now. Toronto just sounds sooo much better (read more sophisticated and interesting) and frankly, how many of you would know where Mississauga is. How many of you could spell it?
Hell, many Americans are not even sure where Canada is. I feel I should fess up to being a Burb Baby as it may, down the road, explain to you some of my social shortcomings. So there you have it.

I graduated with a BA in English and History from the University of Western Ontario in London Ontario. Why that particular double major? My mother wanted me to be a teacher. She somehow knew that her youngest daughter, would at some point, be in need of a stabilizing influence in her life. Upon hearing this from my caring and wise mother, I nodded pleasantly and after graduation went directly to Europe for a year by myself. That would not prove to be the last time my mother was appealed by one of my decision.

In 1981 I moved to Houston, Texas and lived there for 10 years (we can talk about that weirdness later). In 2001 we moved to Corrales, New Mexico ( a funky little rural Spanish village that hangs delightfully off the north west end of Albuquerque)and lived there for 13 + years. Presently, I am living back in Burbville, in the west end of Albuquerque. Yes, you’re right, there’s a story to that as well. Life is a roller coaster and apparently someone reserved the front car for my exclusive use.

I have been self-employed for most of my professional career - do not read unemployed into that statement. Since 1981. I have been a partner in a variety of oil field service/production companies. Why a variety you may ask. Are you paying attention? Remember the roller coaster comment a couple of sentences back? For the past decade I have run a oilfield service company in West Texas. I choose to run it from the Land of Enchantment rather than Midland because, although I may be a little crazy, I’m not crazy enough to live in Midland Texas. Toronto and Texas may start with the same letter but the similarity ends there.

Generally, when I tell people what I do they look at me strangely and say something like “That’s an unusual business for a woman. How did you get into it” I wonder if they think I’ve had a sex change operation or if my marriages have been a pathetic cover for some kind of dark less traditional lifestyle. Who knows? When asked, I look directly into their suspicious eyes and say ” It just appealed to my feminine side”.

In 2004, having been separated from my husband for 1 year, I decided to try being more professionally independent from my ex by taking a real job with an outside entity(my ex lived in another state, but was and still is my partner in the company). At the time I really didn’t mean it - I mean why would I want a real job? I hadn’t worked for someone else since I was 30 years old for God’s sake!!! So I talked about the idea to some of my friends and that was it. I didn’t send out resumes or make any other sincere effort at job hunting. I just talked about it. What’s the harm in that? My friends had never taken me seriously before. Why would they start now? I figured I was safe.

To make a long story short I ended up getting a 2 1/2 year gig working for the Attorney General of New Mexico on her executive staff. Lesson: be careful what you blather about. People just might take you seriously. I became one of her speech writers and handled a variety of grunt type work. Prior to this experience my major outside interest in life had been business. After this gig I emulated my college days and ended up,once again, with a double major: business and politics - the incestuous cousins of the national family we call America.

I am happy to say that I am now back to having only one job - running my strange company and dabbling in the occasional political project. I am happy as a tick on a dog (disclaimer: this is a folksy Texas saying - although I freely admit to being a dedicated capitalist,I do not mean to describe myself as a bloodsucking insect that happily tortures man’s best friend. Remember I love puppies- for verification of this, if your eyes haven’t totally glazed over by now please reference paragraph 1 of this blog.

I spend my days in my snug nest office, doing my work, talking to myself, talking to my cats and now talking to you. Let’s see how interesting a conversation we can have together. Write comments to me. If you’re feeling nasty you are welcome to leave me a scathing critique of my writing ( I’m tough enough to take it and if I prove not to be there are pharmaceuticals for that). If you want to talk about anything at all jot it down on a comment and we’ll go at it. Let’s get busy. Let’s get interesting.

Til the next time.
Susan the Shabby Chic

Passing Words

Saturday, December 15th, 2007

Despite the fact that I am not Catholic, I am going to start my first blog with a confession. I confess to being a procrastinator.

I have been avoiding writing on this blog for weeks now. Put it off to performance anxiety. Contrary to popular belief men aren’t the only ones to experience this.

For clarification purposes, I want to point out that I did not jump into the blogisphere, set up my blog and then chicken out. My very own daughter set me up - literally in this case. After my enthusiastic endorsement of her establishing Woman Remodeled, she immediately set up a page for me. She called me saying “Check out my site I have a surprise for you”. Being a doting mother I immediately complied. And there it was - in full color - New Mexico Woman - words from a woman who has been there - or some such thing. My immediate reaction was to say “Thanks honey but you really shouldn’t have” My gut reacted as if she had given me a pair of black lace thong panties for my 57th birthday.What was she thinking? Oh well. she refused to remove it leaving me with this blank blog out there. How lame is that?

Not wanting to be a complete wimp I had her change the blog name to Shabby Chic. Sensing my inner fear she spelled it “Shabby Chick”, A tad passive - aggressive if you ask me . It’s not nice to publicly call your mother chicken. As I don’t believe in making hollow threats, I will post this blog and threaten to go on strike if she doesn’t change the spelling.

Ok, enuf about that

I have a friend in Toronto, who I will refer to as VF (virtual friend). She is not completely virtual as we have met and I spent a brief fabulously fun time with her during my last pilgrimage to Toronto (my home town)in October. Since that time we have been e-mailing damn near non-stop and as a result have become good friends.

Her partner’s mother died today.after a long illness. Over the last number of days I have been standing vigil over my e-mail inbox doing what I can to support her from afar. Despite my physical absence I was in that hospital room with her for 4 long days and nights. It has made me a believer in the ability of words to render comfort and companionship, no matter where they come from, no matter how far away they originate.

Despite the fact that I had not met her partner and did not know her mother, I grieve for her loss. The loss of any one’s mother pulls at us all. For those of us who have already lost their mother, it takes us back down that painful rabbit hole. For those of us who have not, it augers a time when we too will have to say goodbye.

Today the daughter asked all friends and family, where ever they happen to be, to make a toast to her mother’s life. As I did not know her mother I wrote a poem for all mothers and daughters. So I will say these words over my wine glass and dance a solitary 2-step in her honor.

Here it is

Passing Words

Her face shadows mine
The tint of her colours my life
Her voice whispers in my mind
Whether I want it to or not
In life I sought her and hid from her
In life I laughed with her and railed at her
In life I hugged her and pushed her away
That’s what we do
We daughters of women
That is how we love
Now that the day is done
I am free to embrace it all
I am safe to miss it all
And I will

Til next time

Shabby Chic