This Year In Review

Here it is again, the last day of the year. Time for reflection on the past year.

This year, I bought a new home and sold my old one. In this economy, the fact that my old home sold in about two weeks is quite remarkable. I had done a fair amount of work on the house over the years, including a kitchen upgrade. I got a good price for it, just about what I had planned on. The first new house on which I made an offer was turned down. While it was a beautiful end-unit townhouse in Herndon, ultimately, I'm not sorry that I didn't get it because it might have actually been too big and maybe even a little too pricey. There were a couple of other townhouses that I would have been perfectly happy in and on which I didn't get a chance to even make offers. The housing market this spring and early summer was still lively in Northern Virginia. Interestingly, the townhouse that I ultimately bought is nearly the twin of one in Leesburg owned by an old classmate. I've always thought her house was lovely, and now I have one very similar. The only thing I would change if I could is that it's not an end-unit. But it's certainly a very comfortable home in a lovely Fairfax neighborhood, and the cats and I will be happy here for many years to come.

This year, I changed jobs again. Remarkably, I ended up with a new job within about a week of losing the old one. While the paperwork was completing and to cover all the bases, I did apply to and interview for several other positions. I talked to a career counselor type, as well. One of the things he remarked upon was that it looked like I was a job-hopper. I wish there was some way to indicate on a resume when changing jobs was not your choice, without making it seem as if you weren't good at the job. In my recent job history, I've only left a job a few times. Most of the time, either the company went belly up or the job was reorganized out of existence - neither of which is a reflection on my abilities. Still, without a consistent job history, finding the next opportunity gets tough. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Considering that I'm almost 50, it might be too late, huh?

This year, I still didn't find love. For the first four months of the year, I tried the online dating thing. Again. I know several people who have found love that way, so I keep being optimistic that it will work for me. And since I work with primarily married men and do volunteer work primarily with women, I haven't met anyone just living my life. But no nibbles online. I don't know whether it's the gray hair, the fact that I don't photograph particularly well, or my online bio, but no man even wanted to meet me for a first date. I have to admit that is ego-crushing.

This year, I decided to make a concerted effort to write a book. I've been ostensibly writing a book, though not the same book, since I was 22. I have had outlines and ideas, but never have committed to a deadline to get it done. Inspired by a friend who rode his bike across the country for his 50th birthday, I decided to make completing a book by MY 50th birthday my goal. I have the idea, and I think it's a good one. I've been trying to make myself write more, particularly in the past month. Each story/chapter is at least started. The goal is not necessarily to get it published, just to complete it, to be able to say it was written.

This year, I was not as good as I have been in years past about doing volunteer work. I only had one brief foray as a foster for cats or kittens looking for a new home. I didn't do my usual spring kitten fostering because of my move. And somehow too many weekends ended up devoted to working rather than volunteering. I think I may have racked up about one time a month, but that's about as good as it gets. When I see the devotion of many of the others in the rescue, I feel guilty that I can't give more of my time. But I do what I can and can only hope that it's enough. I take comfort in the fact that the rescue placed more than 2,000 animals this year.

This year, I was honored to celebrate my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. What an amazing feat! And what an amazing setting in which to celebrate - a beautiful home on the point of a bay in Punta Gorda, Florida, with a 270 degree view of the water and facing west for amazing sunsets. It was an intimate party with only about 20 people, but it was full of love and that's really all you need (to paraphrase John Lennon).

This year, I was pleased to continue to be healthy. I started the year with a bit of a health scare. I'm not sure I've ever been so happy to be diagnosed as normal in my life. I am also grateful that my friends and family are healthy as well. I had a couple of other friends go through their own health scares, most of which are under control at this writing. My aged parents got through the year without any serious health situations. My siblings and their spouses are all healthy.

This year, I was happy more days than I was unhappy. I like my life. I have the love of my family and friends and a couple of cats. I am a respected member of an amazing team of people at work, the intelligence of whom I am constantly inspired by. I live in a comfortable home and earn enough money not to have to worry about how I'm going to get by. Even with health scares, losing my job, and not finding a man to share my life, it was overall a good year. And really you can't ask for much more than that.

Bring on 2011. I'm ready.

Sleeping In - Not Really

Today is a slow day, the end of a holiday week that was, for the most part, slower than most. Had a little drama on Tuesday and Wednesday trying to get a response out the door, but all in all, a much quieter week than I usually experience.

As today was going to be a slow day, I decided I would sleep in. Last night, as I prepared for bed, I turned off my alarm. I would let my body tell me when it was ready to get up. In my experience, that's usually around 9 am. As my first and only meeting of the day was at 11:30, I figured I could get away with not rising at my usual 6:30 am.

It was a good theory, but in reality - as they say - not so much.

As I think I've written before, I'm not really a sound sleeper. Quite the opposite in fact. I often describe my ability to sleep through noise this way - my cats walking in the room wakes me up. Any cat owner will tell you that cats can make an amazing amount of noise when they choose to, even if they do step lightly most of the time. But in general, when a cat walks around the house, it's not noticeable.

Maybe it's the equivalent of the mom-ears that I understand women develop to hear a crying child? Though you would think that I would only hear a cat in distress, not a cat merely roaming the halls at night. But no, I'm not that lucky.

What I really hear usually is their claws on the carpet. A sign that it's time for them to be trimmed. Still, most people would not notice that level of noise when asleep. Guess I'm just talented.

Last night, Mia decided to not just walk into my bedroom at 4 am, but to come racing in, claws fully engaged at keeping her balanced, and vocalizing to boot. At 4 am! She has been known to do this on a given morning when I haven't gotten up in time - whatever she perceives that time to be - to feed them. Most mornings, that's somewhere between 5:30 and 6. On work days, my alarm goes off at 5:30 and I lie in bed listening to the CD that's playing, dozing, and thinking about the day to come. Somehow, usually, Mia recognizes that process and generally doesn't vocalize too much in her attempt to get me up that much sooner.

So I was surprised that she decided this morning that it was time to get up at 4 am. Since I'm used to this behavior on weekend mornings and since my alarm wasn't set, I assumed it was time to get up, feed the fur children, and go back to bed for the rest of the morning. But no, it was only 4 am.

In frustration, I decided to close the door with the cats on the outside. That way, I thought foolishly, I would not be awoken between 5:30 and 6 and would be able to make up for the shorter night with a little more lazing about in the am.

Wrong! Somehow, and I still don't know how she did it, Mia was on the inside when I shut the door. So much for keeping the cats from disturbing me. About 4:30, she made her presence known by crying at the door to be let out. She's not one to be locked in, my Mia.

So at 4:30 I was up again, opening the door to let Mia out and to keep Brie from coming in. A quick open and close. Heart racing a bit, I crawled back in bed. Cozy again under the covers, ready to sleep in.

Then at some point - I didn't look at the clock - there was bump on the door. Thump! Someone was trying to get back into the bedroom. I don't really know which cat it was, but I'd put money on Mia. She's never met a door she didn't want to be on the other side of. Once again, my sleeping in was thwarted.

Then it was my own body that betrayed me! I woke up about 7, the time I usually get up to feed the cats on the weekend. You would think that since I'd really essentially been up since 4, my body would have slept past the 7 mark. But no. I figured that I might as well get up and feed the cats or at some point, the thumping on the door would become more regular as they decided that it was time to be fed.

7:15, back in bed again. This time, it wasn't the cats that disturbed my sleep. It was a dream. Somewhere between a dream and a nightmare really. Not a nightmare, but an unhappy dream. A dream from which I woke myself because I didn't really want to be having it. I rolled over and tried again.

Woke for the final time at 9 am. I could have turned over one more time since, as I said, I didn't really have anything to do until 11:30. But I was actually feeling refreshed. Huh?

So that was my morning of sleeping in. Awoken at least four or five times between 4 and 9. Sleeping in - not really.

Too Much

Every day when I wake up, I automatically make a mental list of everything I need to do that day. Same thing happens at night before bed. I make a list of what needs to be done the next day. Lists rule my life.

The list generally includes both immediate goals - things to be done that day - and longer-term goals - things to do that week, month, or eventually. I am finding that the "eventually" list is getting unwieldy. Maybe it's a sign of getting older, but it's getting to be a long list full of very ambitious things.

For example, one of the items on this list was to start writing in my blog again. It has been a while since I wrote regularly. I'd like to get back to that. But it was always a challenge to find both time and topics. I will try again, and we will just see how it goes.

Another task is my book. I have actually started the writing of said book. There's an outline and most of the "chapters", i.e., stories have been started. But I made the mistake of doing the math on how much I need to write every week to get it done. Assuming about 500 pages in two years is 250 pages a year, right? That's 5 pages a week. Now that doesn't sound like much until you try to find the time to write every week. Realistically I'm not going to have time every week. The last week is a prime example of a week with no time and it was a holiday week. So really I need to write more than 5 pages a week. Daunting.

On top of that, my mentor and I think I should get my PMP. Which means either a course or studying. More time challenges either way. Not to mention money for the course if I do that. At this point, even the idea if the application is daunting. And if they audit again - oh boy! Yikes!

And then there are the constant items on the list: eating better and exercising more.

In the meantime, there's my busy job. Which I need to go do. Forgive the typos on this post. Done on cell phone and no time to edit.

Too much.

Not A Word

Last month, I posted that I was going to write a book before I was 50. A couple of years from now. I even have what I think is a brilliant idea for a book. And one I should be able to accomplish reasonably easily.

Except that since then, I have not written a word. I have thought about writing. I have told several people that I'm writing the book - in an effort to sort of "blackmail" myself into writing. And yet - nothing.

The biggest problem, I think, is that I spend all day in front of computer. I come home, eat dinner, tend my "farm", and crash in front of the TV. Every other day, I try to get to the gym or go for a run, adding an hour or two to the time before I eat and farm. So it's hard to then get my creative juices flowing.

Except that at night, as I'm going to sleep, I write brilliant prose. I have a million ideas. I know exactly what I what to say. I will all flow easily and quickly.

Not.

Perhaps I need to go back to the old-fashioned pen and paper method. Perhaps I could convince myself that way to write, rather than read, each night before I go to sleep. Of course then I'd have to put the written word into typed word at some point. Which also seems like a waste of time. I always feel like I should just start with the typing.

One way or another, I still have this ambition. I just have to figure out HOW. And WHEN. I think I've got the WHAT determined. And I guess that's something.

Maybe.

I Before E

When I was in my 20s, I took the Myers-Briggs test, like most of the rest of the world has at some point or another. I was assessed as an ENFJ, though barely an "E". While the meaning of the last three letters can be challenging to come up with, most people have no trouble with the "E" and "I". As an "E", I'm expected to be outgoing and gregarious.

Except yesterday reminded me how much I'm really an "I". I work in business development - an "E" occupation if there ever was one - and yesterday was my company's annual offsite with all the folks in that organization from the top of the chain on down. It's a chance for us to share ideas and meet each other. It started very early in the morning and lasted through a reception in the evening. All in all, a long day.

As I'm also in the middle of a proposal, I ended up popping out of several of the meetings for conference calls to keep my proposal moving forward. I was hardly the only one. Most people ended up on a Blackberry at some point during the day. It's very hard to keep a room full of "E"s off their phones. On one of those calls, the proposal team decided they needed another call in the evening to talk more details with our partners. I was annoyed because that meant I was going to miss the reception, which really was an opportunity to talk and network. The "E" in me wanted to have a chance to talk to folks outside of the offsite.

The main offsite schedule ended, and I dashed home to be ready for the call. I took off my suit and put on my sweats, fed the cats, and got on the phone. And all but collapsed. All of a sudden, I was completely exhausted. The "E" was done; now I was in full "I" mode.

I find that this is often the case. When I'm around a crowd, I can be very convivial. I enjoy the company of others. At something like yesterday's offsite, I don't feel enervated by being "on". I don't notice the drain until I'm done. But when it's over, when I don't need to be an "E" anymore, I find that I am completely and totally spent.

The same thing happened a couple of weeks ago with my open house. For those four hours, I was happy to have everyone around, talking with my family and friends, and truly pleased to be able to share. And the second everyone left, done. Kaput. I got the house cleaned up and collapsed in front of the TV. It was all I could do not to go to bed. At 7 pm!

They say that the real way to tell an "E" from an "I" is how they get energized. An "E" needs to be around other people to get energy. An "I" is exhausted by being around others all the time. Clearly Myers-Briggs was right. I am right there, in the middle. Enjoying my "E" and energized when I'm in the midst of the crowd. And fully an "I" when it's over. The only thing I think they got wrong is that ultimately, I'm more of an "I" before an "E".

It's Getting To Be That Time Of The Year

Last week, I got my first "holiday" catalog. I put holiday in quotes because it's just ridiculously early to be getting a catalog that refers to a holiday in December.

Today, I picked up my mail again. Two days' worth of mail - Monday and Tuesday. In the mail was nine catalogs. Nine! In two days. Now, I do buy quite a bit online - which equates to catalogs for each site. But just because I buy online doesn't mean that I want the catalogs. I don't even look at most of them. I put them right into the recycling bin. And feel guilty that I even got them in the first place. Though I have no idea how to stop them. A few sites offer the option of refusing the catalogs, but most only often the option to ask for the catalogs. Hmm...

The volume of catalogs will increase as the months pass and we get closer to Christmas. At some point, it becomes even more insane. As I have a relatively small mailbox, it will be a challenge for the mailman to get them all in.

The other challenge for the mailman is the number of solicitations. They too are increasing as the season for giving nears. Every year, I pick a handful of charities to which I donate at the end of the year. As a result, I am on many lists for charities and other organizations, much as I am on the lists of many retail stores.

In many ways, I resent the solicitations more than the catalogs. Like the catalogs, the solicitations go straight into the recycling bin. I don't open them. But unlike the catalogs, most of which are for stores at which I shop regularly, many of the solicitations come from charities to whom I haven't donated in years. And yet I still hear from them routinely, and even more in fall and early winter. Including at least one that said if I donated once, I'd never get another donation request. Yeah, right.

In general, I enjoy the holiday season. But the catalogs and solicitations don't add to the enjoyment. Three more months at least. Lovely.

Cardio Vs. Non-Cardio

I came late to exercising. I pretty never exercised until I was almost 30. I did a little running, but not really enough to get in shape. As I was about to turn 30, I decided that I really needed to get in some kind of shape. I took up tae kwon do, and I quickly became addicted to it. I went from never working out to going to class 4-5 times a week. Within 3 years, I had my first degree black belt, and 4 years later, I got my second.

Along the way, I joined a gym. Part of the second degree black belt test was a physical fitness test. I was still heavier than I should have been, and I needed to develop endurance. So I worked out at the gym, I ran occasionally, I took class, and I taught class.

All of this was cardio.

A couple of years ago, a friend of mine started teaching a class at my gym that is a combination of pilates and yoga. I went a few times to support her, and I really liked it. It was similar to tae kwon do in requiring strength and balance, but didn't feel like it was beating up my joints as much. And yet, I couldn't get past the feeling that a non-cardio workout just wasn't going to keep me in shape.

Tonight I took a power yoga class. Straight yoga - no pilates. And a harder class than the hybrid one is because most of the people there have taken yoga for a while. And tomorrow or the next day, I am going to be sore. It feels like it was a really serios non-cardio workout.

Cardio vs. non-cardio? Why not both?

Hostess With The Mostess

It's an interesting expression, don't you think? Does it refer to a hostess who has too much? In that case, I think it applies! Though perhaps not in the way the original meaning was intended.

I threw an open house today for my friends and family to check out my new digs, now that I have furniture for everyone to sit on! Throwing a party can be a remarkably stressful thing. Well, maybe not stressful like many of the other aspects of my life, but stressful in its own way. I wanted to be sure that I had enough of everything - food and drink. And good food and drink at that. Because it was an open house in the afternoon, I didn't want to have anything too heavy. But I didn't want to have too little to eat either. I didn't think people would plan to eat a meal per se, but you don't want to disappoint either. And it's hard - at least for me it's hard - to judge how much people are going to eat. Maybe if I were a caterer, I'd be better at this. As it is, I feel it's always better to have too much than too little.

So I had white and red wines - 5 bottles of white and 4 bottles of red. I had asked my brother and sister in law to bring 2 of the bottles of red, and they bought HUGE bottles. So we definitely had more than enough of that. I bought a bunch of beer too. It is after all football season, and there were several games on. I thought beer would be appropriate for that. I originally bought 3 six-packs, but this morning bought 2 more just in case. Then I had Coke, Diet Coke, and Sprite for the teetotallers, plus water - especially for my pregnant niece who drinks a ton of water, but also for me and others who like to drink water with our wine so we don't drink so much wine. When I was walking through the produce section, I saw apple cider. Which just screams fall, so I had to get some of that. Okay, maybe that was a lot of options and a lot of ounces, but I wanted to have enough for everyone to have whatever they wanted.

As for food, I had wings for my one hot food. Cheese and crackers are a staple in my family, so I had some good cheeses and crackers to go with them. A couple of veggie platters - with dip - for those who wanted something healthy. Chips and salsa, too. Chocolate chip cookies for those with a sweet tooth. One of my good friends bought me cupcakes from Georgetown cupcakes, so we had really special cupcakes too. Then nuts and candy corn for picking up a handful of munchies here and there. I had bought some other party cheese dip, but when I took it out of the refrigerator today, it said it expired several days ago. I guess it only lasts a day or two. As I didn't want to poison my guests, I threw it out. I had more than enough food, as it turned out. My refrigerator can attest to that.

Now I have lots of food and drink left over. No worries; I'm sure it will get used eventually.

But really the food and drink were not the point of the party. The point of the party was to celebrate with my friends and family. They are what makes me the hostess with the mostess.

Bad Kitty Momma

One of my cats has been having problems with her fur matting. I took her to the vet today, really hoping that it wasn't another flea problem. They got fleas last year, and it was terrible to have to deal with it. For them and for me. They had to have medicine put on their fur - which of course they hated. And I had to get an exterminator in to deal with the infestation in my carpets and furniture. Lovely.

As it turned out, the matting wasn't being caused by fleas. Good news. But the vet isn't sure what is causing it. Of more concern from the vet's perspective was the fact that she had lost a pound. A pound for you and me isn't much. But for a 12-pound cat, it's about 10% of her body weight. Since I wasn't trying to get her to lose weight, the vet was concerned. And then he looked at her mouth. Oh boy. She has almost no teeth left. She has her canines (ironically) and only one molar. Which she's in danger of losing since it was covered in tartar. So the vet speculated that, perhaps, she's just not cleaning herself adequately anymore since her mouth hurts. I had noticed that she wasn't eating quite as much, but nothing dramatic. Other than the fur situation, she didn't seem to be experiencing any problems.

So I came home and looked at the mouth of my other cat. She has only one tooth in her whole mouth, as far as she would let me see. One. One lone canine. Bad, bad, bad.

And now I feel quilty that I hadn't noticed that my cats were having so many problems with their teeth. I am a bad kitty momma. :(

Meeting The Neighbors

This Labor Day weekend, I actually met three of my neighbors. One is a young lady - teenager or early 20s - who lives in the house to my left with her mother, whom I had met before. We both happened to be coming out of our houses at the same time. Part of the reason I haven't yet met any neighbors is that I get in my car in the garage (love the garage!). So by the time I hit the garage, I am ensconced in my car. But this particular day, I was putting the top down. I can't put the top down in the car. It hits the ceiling when I do. So I moved the car into the driveway to put the top down. As it was finishing, the young lady came out of her house. She saw me, waved, and then started to walk over. I was actually running late for an appointment, but I still stopped to talk to her. It's always good to know the neighbors, but to be honest, I'm also planning to change out all the windows in this house - and that requires permission from my immediate neighbors. Regardless, I would have stopped to talk. She was a lovely young woman, wearing a Doors t-shirt, a band her mother probably wasn't old enough to have actually heard live. Oh well. It's good to have music continue to have an audience. She did make me feel old, as does anyone in her age range. They remind me that I am old enough - and then some - to be their parent. She asked me if I had any kids or a husband, but alas, neither. Just a couple of lovely cats who keep me company, and the occasional foster kitten.

When I got back from my appointment, the elderly couple across the street was out working on his car, which had a flat. I had seen him that morning, actually, on our way to the mailbox. We had exchanged "Good mornings" but no names. This time, with his wife there, they waved and she said "Good morning" and something to the effect of having wanted to say hello but not usually seeing me. In fact, again, the only reason they were seeing me was because the garage door wasn't down yet (the car was in the garage) because I had a bunch of stuff to get out of the car and hadn't made it to the button to close the door yet. But, as it appeared to be the day to meet the neighbors, I went over to their place and met them both. He's retired. She's a flight attendant who flies all over the world, but mostly to Spain from what she was saying. Anyway, she's gone for days at a time, but he's around and was volunteered to take in my garbage can or packages - whatever I might need. Very nice. I did notice that they are ardent Republicans - Bush/Cheney and McCain/Palin bumper stickers. So we probably shouldn't talk politics or all that neighborly feeling might go away. Particularly when it comes to Palin. Still, nice folks and you never know when I might need my garbage can taken in.

Putting Ambition On Hold

I am a fairly ambitious person when it comes to my professional life. I think it's part of why I keep joining startup companies. In addition to enjoying the challenge of getting a new business off the ground, I like the idea of being able to write my own ticket and direct my own future.

On the other hand, it's usually not that easy. Despite having been the 9th, 5th, and 5th employee of new companies, as well as one of the early employees a couple of other times, I was actually hired for specific roles in those companies. And getting more out of those roles was harder than I had thought it would be. And being one of the early employees didn't protect me from layoffs, as you'd think it might. I did get stock options in a bunch of these cases, but unfortunately, those haven't paid off too well yet. I got a check for $0.74 last year from one of them. At this rate, I'm sure I'll earn my first million soon.

Now I'm back at a big company again. The challenge is that - as it was when I left - my role this time is a little ill-defined. While in a startup that's to be expected - to some extent - it's not really the ideal in a large company. In a large company, having a job that's new to the company can be the kiss of death. On the other hand, they were very excited to have me back. And there are lots of folks who tell me that they missed me when I was gone. Which is definitely a good thing. But...

It's a big place, and it's easy to feel lost. And I don't like to feel lost. I don't like to feel like my job isn't defined. I want to feel like I am indispensable.

But how many people really feel that way? Really. Ever. Not even CEOs are secure these days.

So it's time to put my ambition on hold. And do my job. And have that be enough. Because if I do my job, and do it well, then I should be able to feel more secure. And right now, that's more important than being ambitious.

This Could Be Easier

It would be so much easier if it were possible to dump my brain into my computer, without my having to be the one to do it.

Last night, as I was going to bed, after having written a couple of pages of brilliance - okay, I think it's brilliance; others will have to wait - I thought of more things to say. But then I went to sleep. And to work. And now all that additional brilliance is faded.

Same thing happened on the drive to work this morning. I thought of a bunch of other topics for my table of contents. I did manage to remember most of those by the time I got home.

One other thing that I'm going to have to resolve is some sort of desk to write on when I'm watching TV. My coffee table is too low. I either have to sit on the floor below the table - which is not comfortable because my legs have to stay bent between the table and the couch - or I sit on the couch - much more comfortable on the legs, but harder on the back as the coffee table is low. So tonight, I'm trying typing with my laptop actually in my lap. It means I can't use the mouse and have to use the touchpad, which I don't really like, but it's not all bad. And much more comfortable on both back and legs.

So I now need to try to figure out how to get what's inside my brain down into the computer. Next blog entry, perhaps?

Audacious Goals

A friend of mine just finished biking across the country. On a regular bike, not a motorcycle. He's a longtime cyclist and does an annual bike trip in Maine to raise money for the American Lung Association. In memoriam of his father-in-law, and because he was hitting 50, he decided to bike across the country before his birthday. He made it a fund-raising event and raised thousands of dollars. He also kept a blog of the ride, including pictures from the road. It was quite amazing to his progress. I was amazed that anyone could ride a bike that far, much less at 50!

Today, I read about another person's quest. This guy is a contributor to Anderson Cooper's 360 online. His goal is to travel to every country in the world. When I first started reading about his adventures, I assumed he was my age - middle age. In fact, he's 32. And planning to complete his quest of 192 countries by 36. Amazing. He too is keeping a blog of his quest. And the end of each of his entries is an entreaty for each of us to have an audacious goal.

So here is my audacious goal. In keeping with Mark's goal and Chris' entreaty, I am going to set a goal of writing a book by the time I'm 50. My dad has written two since he turned 80. Seems only reasonable for me to try. Right? And maybe I'll even blog about the experience / challenge.

Ready For Fall!

It's almost time for the new fall season. I'm certainly seeing enough advertisements for it, both on TV and via other media like my Facebook account. And I'm ready.

In previous summers, it seemed like the reruns were mixed in with new shows. Or maybe I'm remembering wrong. But I'm tired of the reality drivel that they parade out at the end of the summer. Big Brother? Please. Yuk!

I'm ready for the new seasons with new plots and to find out what happened in continuation from last season.

I'm sure there will be a new crop of shows, too, some of which will be good but most of which will stink. Oh well. That's the way the world of TV goes.

Mostly I'm just tired of reruns. So I have a tendency to turn off the TV early and head for bed. Which is okay except part of the point of watching TV is to give my brain something else to think about. And not having anything interesting to watch just doesn't fit that bill.

A good book would work too. But it's harder to read a book in one hour increments. And right now, an hour is about all the time I have to do anything other than work.

Hopefully that will also change in the fall. We'll see.

Yesterday's Exercise Debacle Becomes Today's Exercise Present

I knew I had to work today. But I took yesterday off. I didn't work at all, except to answer a couple of emails. Instead, I went shopping, ran errands, and went for a run.

Or at least that was the plan. The plan was to go for a run on the path by my house. A friend had told me that the plan goes all the way to a park out in Chantilly. So I figured it would work well for my usual 3 mile run.

I had tried it once before, but had ended up on a dead end in a neighborhood that was nowhere near as far away as Chantilly. So I figured this time I would take the left fork, instead of the right, and see how far it went.

The one thing that makes me nervous about this path is that it's in the woods. Lovely in terms of protection against the heat and sun, certainly cooler than my usual run around the local streets. But it also seems more dangerous somehow for a single female. So I wanted to try it to see how far the left fork stayed in the woods. But it was definitely on my mind as I headed out.

Usually I run for about 30 minutes. Yesterday, I decided to run further. It was 5 minutes down the road to the wooded path. I figured I would run 15 minutes down the path and then turn around. When I got back to where I would get back on my streets, I would have run for about 35 minutes and could decide whether I wanted to run or walk the 5 minutes back to my house. That was the plan.

I took off. 5 minutes down to the woods. Left at the fork. A nice run through the woods. Then the path crossed a street. I was about 10 minutes into the path part of my run and feeling nervous, as I said, about running in the woods. Since I recognized the name of the street and knew it would take me back to one of the main roads by my house, I decided to head out up the road and out of the woods. Down the street about another 10 minutes. All is good.

Except when I hit the main road, I realize that I am much further down the road from my house than another 10 minutes. And I'm tired - 25 minutes in. So I have to make a decision. Run for another 5 minutes to make my usual 30-minute mark. Or walk. I decide to run.

I head down the main road and take a side street that I think will take me back to the path. I run into a neighborhood and down several of the paths of the neighborhood, all of which seem like they should connect to my original path. Once I hit the neighborhood, I ran some and walked some. I walked to try to see if I could find my way better when I was more focused on possibilities. No go. Demoralized I stop running. I realized that I need to just go back to the main road and go back the way I know.

I'm now about 40-45 minutes into my workout. And I have a pretty long walk or run ahead of me. I'm about 2 miles from home. Remember that I usually only run 3 miles. two more miles is much too far. So I mostly walked back. It was another 30 minutes before I got back to my neighborhood. Might have been more than 2 miles.

So what started out as a run that I wanted to be a "little" longer ended up as a run / walk for 1-1/4 hours. I was exhausted.

Today, the plan was to work for a couple of hours after lunch, go do a little shopping, and head to the gym to work out. The amount of work I had to do ended up taking longer than I had planned. So I was going to skip the shopping and just do the gym. Then, as I was deciding about whether I would go work out and come home to finish up my work, I got a call from my niece and her husband. He was coming over to help me move some furniture. He had thought he was going to get out to me between 6 and 7. It was just about 4. They were early. At this point, I decided that I would just work through and have them come. Maybe I would get a workout in later, but if not, well, it happens.

I didn't end up finishing up work until 7:30. Much too late to work out. But then I realized that I had essentially done a double workout yesterday.

A present. Thank goodness.

Things You Never Knew You Needed

Every once in a while, I am struck by the things in life that I have bought and use routinely that I didn't know would be so helpful.

Case in point, a stepping stool. I bought one for this house because the kitchen cabinets are very tall and because the master bedroom's walk-in closet is also tall and the top-most shelves are higher than I can reach. I bought a relatively short stepping stool with only two steps. But it has become an extremely useful thing to have. I use it for things for which I used to use a chair. But it's much handier to carry around the house than a chair. And much more stable. Although I bought it for my kitchen and closet, I used it to hang my new curtains. I used it to hang the pictures in my living room. I used it for at least a handful of other things that I am not even sure I remember.

A related purchase was a pole that I could use to change the lightbulbs in the ceiling. My previous home had low ceilings, not more than 8 feet high, and no overhead lighting. My new home has can lights in the ceiling. They are 12 feet high, higher than I can reach even with my cool, new stepping stool. So I bought one of those poles that you use to grab a lightbulb, twist it out, and put a new one in. Very cool.

When it comes to technology, I tend not to be an early adopter. I like to wait a while for new technologies to get the kinks out and drop in cost. Three new technologies in my life in recent years - the iPod Shuffle, iPhone, and a flat screen TV. The first of these purchases was the iPod Shuffle. I didn't want a full iPod because I couldn't imagine walking around listening to music. I still can't. But I use my Shuffles (I have two) when I work out. Much more convenient than even a cassette player and certainly better than a portable CD player when trying to run. About 6 months ago, I went running with my sister, and she used my second Shuffle. She has a Nano that she has used at the gym, but since Shuffles are much smaller and cheaper, she planned to get a couple more. I don't know if she did.

The iPhone was my next purchase last summer. I needed a new cell phone and decided to get a smart phone. I have a couple of friends with iPhones, and they seemed like they were cool. I wasn't really sure if I would like it, and now I can't imagine how I survived without it. I can check news anywhere. I can play games anywhere. I can check my AOL mail anywhere. I text. Much easier than on my previous phone.

Right now, I'm watching my flat screen TV. In addition to being bigger and clearer than my previous TV, it's light enough that I can carry it myself. My previous TV was too heavy for me to carry. And too bulky for me to carry, too. This one is much easier to shift if needed. And of course, takes up much less space on the TV stand.

So there you go. Five things I didn't realize that I needed until I had them.

Work-Life Balance?

Does it count as good work-life balance that I got the last of my new furniture delivered, hung the pictures in my living room, unpacked the rest of my books, and worked out both days on the same weekend that I worked most of each day? Probably not.

We've been working on a significant project at work. It required most of us to work a fair amount of the weekend. I didn't work as much as some, but I did work for several hours on Saturday and again on Sunday. I was only supposed to work on Sunday, but it turned out that the lead on the project wanted to put in her input on my part of the project. So she came over on Saturday and then I implemented her ideas. Then Sunday was spent doing the things I had agreed to do on Friday.

At the same time, my new couch was delivered on Saturday. It's beautiful, and I am very happy with it. It was the last new piece that I needed to have all my rooms completed. Yea! While I was waiting for the delivery guys - who of course had given me a 4-hour window for delivery - I hung the pictures that I had had framed a couple of weeks ago. I had run out early on Saturday morning to get the level that I needed to complete that task. With seven pictures, it was critical that they were spaced the same and lined up in parallel. I finished hanging the last picture just as the delivery guys showed up. Good timing. Then tonight, I unpacked the last of the boxes - four boxes of books. That means that I am officially done with my move.

Productive weekend. Time for bed.

It's All In The Timing

I've discovered that 6:15 is my bewitching hour. If I get out of work by 6:15, I can make it to the gym or home for a run. And be done with either of them in time to eat dinner before it's too late at night. If I leave work after that, I have found that I can't make myself go to the gym or for a run. That I'm too tired. Or that it's too late. Because by the time I get to the fym at that time, and work out for an hour, I won't get home until after 8. And I just can't do that. Because these days, I'm usually in bed (to read usually) by 9:30. So if I don't eat until after 8, that's just too close to the time I'm going to bed.

So how often do you think I got out of work before 6:15 this week? Only twice. Not good.

Not All Reality Is Equal

So many reality shows are worthless. And so many reality shows only make the participants look stupid.

I'm not talking so much about the new-generation talent shows. Honestly, I don't think that American Idol is any worse than previous generations of such shows. Yes, the audition shows are vile, but those that make it into the top three or four have proven that they have some talent. Carrie Underwood. Chris Daughtry. Kelly Clarkson. Millions of CDs sold.

But look at The Hills. Worthless. Jersey Shore. Embarrassing.

In the past few years, there have been a few shows staring rock stars. I think The Osbournes started it. For the past few years, there has been "Gene Simmons Family Jewels" on A&E. If you had told me that I would enjoy watching Gene Simmons from KISS on a reality show, I would have laughed in your face. The only thing I knew about him was that he claimed to have slept with thousands of women. I thought he was full of himself and honestly a bit disgusting. The thing is that he is full of himself. But he laughs at himself about that. He's been living with the same woman for many years now, and they have two kids who are teenagers. The show is about their family. And his business. And it's really quite funny and interesting. Who knew?

Now there's a new rock star family show - "Growing Up Twisted". With Dee Snyder, the lead singer of Twister Sister. Also on A&E. Seems like more than a little bit of a copycat to "Family Jewels". And I just don't see that Dee Snyder will be as charismatic as Gene Simmons. So I don't think I'll be watching that particular reality show.

Not all reality is equal.

Time Flies

Last weekend was my high school's 30th reunion. How could that be? I'm not old enough to be 30 years out of high school. At least it doesn't feel that way. Time flies.

It got me to thinking about some other milestones. Being 30 years out of high school means I'm 26 out of college. And 23 out of graduate school. Amazing.

I've lived in Northern Virginia for 25 years, having moved back to the DC area in 1985 to go to graduate school, but to VA instead of MD where I grew up. And yet I still don't think of myself as a Virginian. Not a Marylander either. Just a citizen of the United States. Or a DC area native. Maybe it's from living in Northern Virginia, but I just don't identify with the state as a place that I'm from. Strange.

My sister married her husband almost 20 years ago now, when his kids were kids. Now the eldest of his kids is going to have a kid. Cool.

I've loved a handful of men, but haven't loved anyone in more than 15 years. Sad.

I've been working for 26 years since I graduated from college. I was a professional editor for 10 years, and haven't been a professional editor (i.e., that hasn't been my title) for 13 years. And I still write and edit almost every day as part of my job, as I have for pretty much my entire career. Odd.

In the 26 years I've been working, I've worked for New Boston Group, The Congressional Information Service, Codeworks Corporation, Hart Research, Relevant Knowledge, Validity Corporation, Effinity Financial Corporation, Treasury Bank, the CARES Commission, Northrop Grumman, Cognosante, and Northrop Grumman. Of all of those firms, only Hart Research, Northrop Grumman, and Cognosante still exist. That's a lot of baseball caps and coffee mugs for companies that have gone out of business. Entrepreneurial or maybe stupid.

It's an interesting set of statistics. There's lot of data in there. But the bottom line....

Time is flying by.

Brand Management

Between BP and Toyota, there are a lot of ads on the TV these days that are all about brand management. That is, they are about reputation clean-up. About making the company's brand viable again.

It's an interesting business to be in. During my recent sojourn in unemployment, I interviewed with a company whose job, among more traditional brand research, is to determine how best to woo the public back. When I worked years ago for a polling firm, we did some of this kind of market research. Not about which brand the public prefers, but the public's perception of a company as one they like or don't like. It's a much harder thing to measure. And also much harder to affect.

I've noticed recently, however, that more and more companies are doing this kind of advertising. It's not just those like BP and Toyota who need to address scandals that are associated with their companies. It's also companies like Microsoft. Sure, they are advertising Windows 7, and sure, some of what they are doing is trying to get people to buy that product. But they approach the advertising by trying to make people feel like Windows 7 is something that the public contributed to. That an average person's ideas were part of the process. In other words, affect the public's perception of Microsoft as a company, not just the Windows 7 product in particular. Jeep is advertising the new Cherokee as not just building a car, but rebuilding a company. Rebuilding the brand.

I wonder whether it's a trend in advertising, or it's just that there are so many companies that need to improve the public's perception of them.

You Get Back What You Give In

You give love, you get love.
You give trust, you get trust.
You give respect, you get respect.

On the flip side...
You don't trust those around you, they won't trust you.
You don't respect others' choices, they won't respect yours.
You don't believe that others know what they are talking about, they won't believe what you say.

The philosophers are right. Karma's a bitch.

I'm A Planner

When I was watching Pretty Woman - way back when - I was struck by the line "Are you a planner? I'm a planner. Well, actually I'm not a planner. I'm pretty much a skin-of-my-teeth kind of gal." Paraphrasing here, but I remember the repartee well because I am a planner.

I come a family of planners. My mother is highly-organized, and it rubbed off on the rest of us. I think I've written about that before.

But where planning gets me into trouble is that I'm not good at switching gears midstream, to mix metaphors. I can plan to be spontaneous. I can be spontaneous if I have no plans. But if I have a plan in my head of what I'm supposed to be doing and when, I have trouble letting go of it and being spontaneous.

I think some of this inability to go with the flow comes from my highly-organized genes.

I think some of it comes from the fact that I work in an environment where I have to have a plan and then I have to throw that plan out the window probably at least two or three times a week. I always tell people that this is why I have cats instead of dogs. I can plan that my day will end at 5 or 5:30. I can do what I need to do so that I can leave by that time. And all too often, something will come up and that plan to leave on time goes boom.

And so in my personal life, I tend to be a little more of a stickler for staying with the plan. Because most of the time it's just me. And so I have more control.

Which is, of course, another factor in why I'm not good at being spontaneous. I'm usually in control. If I go into a situation that I didn't plan, then I'm less in control.

But the other reason I am not good at spontaneity is that I usually have so much to do that planning is the only way to get it all done. And even then, it usually doesn't.

So I'm a planner. And that's not likely to change. Because I'm not spontaneous.

Relation-Ships

My parents are about to get their first great-grandchild. Well, in a few more months that is. And technically not really. It's complicated, as so many families are these days.

Linnea is my brother-in-law's child from his first marriage. One of two kids in fact. They have been part of our family since my sister married their father almost 20 years ago. Although my sister never formally adopted them and they are not then legally related, they are family in all the ways that count.

Linnea married Jason a few years back. She couldn't have done a better job. And now they are going to be parents and give my parents a small child to dote on. Finally.

You see, none of my parents' children ever had children. So Chris' kids became the only grandkids for my parents. Of course, we would have loved them anyway - they are awesome people - but since they are the only members of that generation, that makes them all the more special. And now there will be another generation.

The funny thing is that Linnea and Jason's child will be the same generation as my cousin Steve's kid. It's a little confusing. Basically my dad is the oldest in his family. Steve's mom is the youngest. Chris is a few years older than my sister and had his kids reasonably young. As a consequence, my father's nephew, my cousin, ended up in the same generation as Chris' oldest child. Weird how that happens.

Steve and his wife Tamorah had their first child about a year ago. Linnea and Jason's child is due early next year. So they will be about 16 months apart. That generational gap just jumped.

But the thing is, really, these generations are not related at all. My cousin's child is not related to my stepniece's child by blood no matter how you slice it. Even if they will grow up going to family functions together.

Like I said, technically that's all true. But then there's love. And how family is really defined. And in that world - the one that really counts- these two children will be related.

Why Did I Get Into Rescue?

Today, the cat volunteer coordinator for Lost Dog and Cat Rescue asked the cat volunteers how and why they got into animal rescue. Here was my answer. I think some of this has been said here before, but hey, since I already wrote it....

Why did I get into animal rescue? A whole bunch of reasons. Starting with an opportunity to be around dogs again. I grew up with dogs, but my lifestyle just doesn't work for dogs. Working 10-12 hours a day just doesn't work with dogs. And until about 10 years ago, I was living in condos and apartments. I know lots of people who have dogs in such environments, but I just couldn't imagine doing it. But I also can't imagine life without a pet, so that's why I have cats.

But I missed dogs. There's a certain irrepressible quality about most dogs that cats just don't have. Bounding and circling from excitement are not qualities one usually sees in cats either.

I also wanted to find a way to give back, to volunteer. I've never been much of a joiner, but I do believe in giving of oneself. Especially as I got older. So I looked into volunteer opportunities, but many wanted a set commitment. Given that schedule I mentioned for work, and given that my work often involves working weekends as well as workdays, I couldn't commit to a particular schedule for volunteer work. Or I could have said I'd do it, and then had to break that schedule with some frequency. That didn't seem like a very nice thing to do. So I need volunteer work that involved a flexible schedule. Not easy to find!

As I said, I have cats. I have long been a PetSmart shopper. I saw various rescue organizations in my travels to pick up cat food and litter. I started looking into rescue volunteering. I had rescued my cats through a rescue organization, but the ladies who run that organization are a little loopy (so I won't say which one). As with some rescue organizations, they seem to have gone a little too far in the direction of protecting their rescues from the world. While I value animals and life in general, I have a practical streak a mile wide. And I tend to look at people as basically good, not as out to hurt animals.

In the process of researching animal rescue organizations, I ran across Lost Dog and Cat Rescue. I liked that they helped both dogs and cats. And not a particular breed, but all kinds of rescues. I liked that I could sign up as often or infrequently as my schedule allowed. I liked that the interviewers cared about making sure that the adoption was going to be a success, for both sides of the equation - adopter and adoptee. And that that sometimes meant allowing someone to adopt under not-quite-ideal circumstances but because the adopters ultimately had the right quality for that adoptee, whatever that intangible quality might be.

So I signed up to "play with dogs" as I called it. Every week, I'd get the email about volunteering and be able to make a determination whether that particular weekend was going to work out for me. After a few months, I occasionally functioned as a volunteer captain - training new volunteers and generally helping out with the logistics of the whole thing. I was impressed with Barb, Pam, Paul, etc. Their commitment was/is amazing, but they are practical too. They work with the adopters to find the right combination of dog and new owner.

Then one of the rescue emails said LDCRF was looking for kitten fosters. By this time, I was in a townhouse and had some space to be able to foster kittens in the spring when there are so many. That first year, I asked Dot a lot questions. I had only two kittens. The first time I dropped them off to potentially be adopted, I wasn't sure if I was going to be happy or heartbroken if they actually got adopted. That's the challenge of being a foster. Loving your foster without becoming so attached that you become a foster failure. That first time when I left my kittens, I volunteered as a dog handler. The next time I brought them, I stayed with them during the adoption event and got to participate in the interview when one of them got adopted. It helped with the separation knowing that the kitten was going to a great home. And so I became a cat volunteer while I had my fosters.

I've since fostered kittens four times. And become a cat volunteer and eventually a cat adoption interviewer. I still only volunteer about once a month, but I now know pretty much all of the rescue leaders. It's a great organization doing great things. And I'm proud to play my part.

The Realities Of Dream-Land

Last night, I had a dream about an old crush. No, this will not be an X-rated post. It wasn't that kind of dream. But it did remind me that I haven't had a crush in a while. The fact that I dreamt about a crush who has long since moved away, even if we do keep in the occasional touch, is a sign that there just hasn't been anyone of interest in my life lately.

I've never been one to dream about the truly unattainable. The famous, for example. Given the opportunity, I'd love to meet George Clooney. Last night, I watched two "chick flicks" with Jude Law and Will Smith in the leading roles. Romantic leading men who say all the right things and sweep the leading ladies off their feet. But I can't remember ever dreaming about such a thing. Even my dream-land is based in reality in that regard. I only tend to dream about people I've actually known.

And my imagination rarely, if ever, includes fantasies that could have but didn't happen. Call it dreamus-interruptus. More often, my dream-land reality mirrors my real reality, with wishes and hopes and fantasies about how I might convince a crush to become more than that. But in dream-land, as in the real world, they turn me down. Or I wake up.

Which I find fascinating for many reasons, not the least of which is that I'm an incurable romantic. You would think that I would be able to suspend disbelief in my dreams and attain the unattainable. I guess my pragmatic side just can't step aside long enough for that.

I'm sure Freud and Jung would have much to say on the subject. But for me, it's not all bad. It would be hard to regularly dream about things I can't have. I get enough of that in reality.

Guess My Citizenship Papers Are Good

I'm back in proposal world. I didn't really get out of it, but for the past few years, I've been straddling proposals and marketing. In my new job, I'm fully in proposal world, though, playing both a capture and proposal role.

Those who don't do government proposals don't really understand what those of us who do mean by "proposal world". So let me offer a few insights to clarify why you need a passport (and a healthy dose of sanity).

1) Proposal world means playing catch-up. In the perfect world of proposals, the one they train you on, the company has advanced knowledge that a Request for Proposals is coming and has an opportunity to "shape the deal." The proposal team may even gather before the RFP comes out and start figuring out the solution and getting teammates onboard. And may have several weeks, or months even, to get it down. In a perfect world, rare for proposal world. Those generally aren't the kinds of proposals I work. The RFPs I work on are usually the "extras" or the "this just dropped" ones. They haven't been shaped. They are opportunities we may or may not have identified, but ones that, once they came out, were opportunities that we thought we could win. So with imperfect information and with less time than we'd like, we jump into proposal world.

2) Proposal world means working long hours. Everyone who has ever worked on a proposal knows that, no matter how prepared you think you are, the hours it takes to get one done are significant. Even with the longer schedules for the bigger deals, in the last few days or weeks, time becomes a factor. In the proposal world I live in, where the RFPs are "pop-ups" with usually a 2- or 3-week schedule from RFP date to proposal delivery, the hours can become even more insane. If you have more than one going on at the same time, long days can become more the rule than the exception. And weekends have a tendency to go out with the bath water, too. For those who only visit proposal world, it's the anti-vacation. For those of us who live here, delivery day is a mixed blessing. It's often a VERY long day the day before a proposal is due. But, if you're lucky as I am today, after delivery you get to take some time off. You've usually already put in your hours.

3) Proposal world can be full of cranky people. If you take a look at #1 and #2, you can understand why. No one likes to feel as though they have to work long hours just to catch up and then work more long hours to get it done, especially when they weren't expecting it. And most people working on a proposal don't have just one job. Most people working on a proposal have at least two. Even those of us who do proposals for a living. The people providing the technical solution usually have billable, "real" jobs to do, and the proposal is something they do in the "offhours" after the clock has stopped ticking for their customer's work. That means evenings and weekends. The people who do proposals for a living rarely get to work on only one proposal at a time. And even if they do, they have to manage the schedule, the other cranky people, feed the management chain the information for approvals, get in-house reviews done, write pieces of the documents, edit the documents, work the graphics to tell the story, and generally tell people they need everything done yesterday and perfectly. Like I said, more than one job.

And yet...there's a certain satisfaction that comes from working on proposals. Yes, people can be cranky, but often there's a spirit of "we can do this if we work together", which isn't always the case in every job. You don't get to stay in proposal world long if you're an "it's all about me" kind of person. Or a backstabbing kind of person. The residents will eat you up and/or kick you out.

And proposals are kind of a big puzzle. There's the "how are we going to get this done" part. There's the "what's the right solution part". There's the "what does this customer really want" part. There's the "oh my god, it's due in 2 days" part. Figuring out all the parts and getting a proposal together that looks good and smells right - well, it's a good feeling.

Proposal world also mean jobs and revenue. Shareholders appreciate that. Your boss appreciates that. Your fellow employees appreciate that.

If you do it right, you win more than you lose. If you do it really well, you get a pat on the back, even for just doing your job.

And who doesn't love a pat of the back for just doing their job.

Proposal world. It's an interesting place to live. Guess I'll stay here for a while.

Art Vs. Craft

Years ago, during one of my father's attempts at retirement (there would be several), he tried his hand at being what he called an itinerant artist. He has an ability that I envy. He can draw a building - interior or more often exterior - and with a few strokes of a pen, make something that looks like a building. He's an trained architect, which is why the focus is on buildings, but it's still remarkable to watch. During this period, though, when he was trying to sell his drawings, he was told that his drawings were "craft" not "art" I suppose because they were renditions of actual things. I have always taken exception to that. I believe his drawings are art. They require a talent that most of us do not possess. He can draw a few hashmarks and suddenly it's brick. The eye that knows how much needs to be there to create that illusion is an artistic one, not craft.

In the same vein, I have considered my cross stitch work to be craft. I don't create the patterns. I follow someone else's creativity to make something from nothing. It's not original. And it's something that a lot of people can do, with a little patience and a lot of time.

I was just reading an article in Newsweek about creativity. In it, the authors discuss that creativity requires both the right and left brains. Not just the left as conventional wisdom has thought. One side sees patterns, the other turns them into something new. Or the one side searches for something similar in memory, and the other side figures out how to apply it to this new situation. That's creativity. Apparently we as a nation are starting to lose that creative spark. Why is the subject of debate. But that's not what got me thinking.

What got me thinking is the article combined with a conversation I had in a bar recently about a book I've thought about writing for years. It would be about how my ordinary life has been touched by some extraordinary people and events, from the famous to the infamous to the obscure.

But would such a book be autobiography - and craft? Or more than that - and art?

Top Ten Reasons I Love My Garage

10) It has a good-sized storage room. Since I don't have a basement, that's pretty much the biggest storage space I have.

9) I can put my garbage in the garbage can so it doesn't stink up the rest of the house.

8) There's a place to hang all my gardening and lawn care tools.

7) In typical Washington summer weather, I left the house the other day in beautiful sunshine, and it started pouring the drive back home. With a garage, I don't care - I didn't need an umbrella because I was already indoors when I got out of the car.

6) The car is protected from the elements at least half of a given day. Since I'm working from home these days, sometimes it's even more than that.

5) Corollary: A car wash lasts much longer than it used to.

4) I won't have to clean the snow off the car before I can go anywhere. I'll still have to shovel the driveway, but only half of it!

3) I can leave the top down overnight and not have to worry about dew or other moisture.

2) There's nothing better than carrying in groceries without dealing with the weather - hot, cold, rain, or snow.

1) Black leather car seats.

Work-Life Balance

I am becoming a teleworker. That is, I not only work from home, I will no longer have an office in any of the buildings - and there are many - that my company uses. Instead, when I go to an office for something other than a meeting, I will use hoteling space. They've set up a website to reserve these spots, though I'm not sure how often people actually use it.

It wasn't my choice to become a teleworker. The company is trying to cut down on facilities costs by asking people to work from their homes. I suppose there are some who would choose to be a teleworker or telecommuter (the difference being telecommuters have an office, they just aren't there much and may share it). Parents of young children. Folks, like business development types, who aren't in their offices much in the first place.

It's an interesting experiment, but one of the benefits is supposed to be improved work-life balance. The idea being, I suppose, that you can flex your time more around other things in your life.

The problem is that, for me at least, what it means is that I'm available to work 24x7. Yesterday, I last dealt with a work issue at 11:00 pm. I started working this morning at 7:30. That's not much of a work-life balance. Granted, I can do laundry and work at the same time. I can accept packages, too, which has been handy as a new homeowner. But working proposals is hard enough without adding the fact that my computer is up and running almost all the time.

This extended work schedule may ebb and flow. Right now, I'm in the middle of a proposal that's due in a week, so we are putting in a lot of hours for that. Many of which would probably have been put in whether I was at work or at home. Although I'm not sure I would have started work at 7:30 am if I was going into an office. I'm so not a morning person.

Other interesting changes to my lifestyle. I used to have my home's thermometer set to turn up the temperature during the day in the summer and turn it down in the winter. Since I'm here during the day, I've had to change that. Not sure what that's going to do to my energy bills yet. And not sure what the impact might be on the environment, though my fuel consumption is presumably less than an entire building's worth if they reduce the company's footprint sufficiently.

My cats are quite confused. They are used to not having me here all the time. Now they are getting used to having me here. And I'm not sure whether that will ultimately create anxiety on those days when I am in an office for most of a day. We'll see how that goes.

It's strange to go through the day only talking to people on the phone, via chat, or via email. It's weird to have days when I don't leave my house except to get the mail or go for a run.

On the plus side, I listen to music during the day, something I've rarely done in an office environment. It's also nice not to have to dress up every day, though I'm of two minds about that since I do like to wear nice clothes. But working in a t-shirt and shorts when it's 90 degrees outside does have its advantages.

I worry a bit about the things I may be missing in hallway conversations and the like. But a bunch of the people I work with are telecommuting or teleworkers, too, so it's not quite as bad as it might be.

I just have to master the art of turning off the computer and the Blackberry. Of not feeling like I have to respond to everything instantly. Even though I can.

And making sure that life isn't subsumed by work.

Pitter-Pat, Pitter-Pat

A couple of day ago, I experienced rain for the first time in my new home. Funny how rain is different in each house. The way it falls on the roof and the sound it makes. Does it hit the windows? Front of the house? Back of the house? What about the deck? Does the patio get wet?

This house has almost no trees around it, so no chance of branches hitting the house in a storm. That's different from my previous home, and a source of some comfort. I was always a bit afraid that one of the branches would come in the window in a bad storm. The only tree around this house is next to the back fence, and if it was to uproot or lose a branch, the only thing it would hit would be the deck. Not that that's ideal, but it's better than my bedroom window.

This particular rain was a light one. Just a steady rain - no dramatic flashes. It was a soothing rain. The kind that they record for relaxation CDs. The pitter-pat on the roof made for a calm night. Yawn!

The Age-Old Question

No, it's not "Why me?" though that's a good one. It's not "Why are we here?". It's not even "Why is there air?" - one of the best Billy Cosby routines and albums ever. In my mind, the age-old question is "Which is better - cats or dogs?"

Don't get me wrong. I may own cats, but I love dogs too. In fact, I started in animal rescue as a chance to be around dogs again. A chance to "play with dogs" as I called it. In the past few years, I've mostly been involved on the cat-side of the house, but that's just because our rescue skews toward the dog lovers. Someone has to love the cats. :)

Anyway, back the age-old question. For me, it's not a matter of which is better. It's a matter of which you prefer. They both have strengths and weaknesses.

PROS:

Dogs: A dog will greet you at the door, bounding with love. This makes you feel appreciated, and who doesn't need that! Dogs can learn and do tricks - from learning to sit on command to catching a frisbee and other toys. Fun! Dogs can sleep with you and keep you warm - where do you think the name "Three Dog Night" comes from, anyway?

Cats: Purring is one of the best sounds in the world. Cat's fur is not quite as soft as rabbit's fur, but generally softer than dog's fur. Cats clean themselves and almost never stink up the place, except maybe their breath. Cats can be left for a couple of days with just food, water, and a clean litter box.

CONS:

Dogs: You can't leave a dog for days without some serious problems arising, unless you happen to have a dog that uses a litter box (some of the smaller breeds). Dogs bark. Even if you love it, others might. A cat might meow, and loudly sometimes, but generally not so loud the neighbors can hear.

Cats: Cats are almost never affectionate all the time. They're too independent for that. Cats' litter boxes are NOT a pleasant odor. So you may be able to leave them for a day or two, but you might come home to a stinky house.

But in general, the age-old question is answered best with "Both!" The love of a pet - and learning how to care for one - is a great thing.

When Turning On The Lights Is Scary

Last night, at close to midnight, long after I had gone to sleep, a light came on. Randomly. Strangely.

I have said many times that I'm a really light sleeper. My usual way of describing how light a sleeper I am is to say that my cats wake me up when they walk in the room. Sad, but true.

But you know what? My new description is going to be that a light turned on down the hall woke me up.

Woke me up and scared me to death. How could a light just turn itself on? Was there someone in my house? But if someone was in my house, why would they turn on a light? Not logical. But in the night, when woken up from sleep, the rationality of that escaped me. Instead, I was convinced there was someone in the house. If not, why did the light come on?

Are there some kind of timers? Motion sensors? I still have no idea why the light came on. Scary.

Independence

Yesterday, the United States celebrated our Independence Day. July 4 is officially the day that the U.S. declared itself independent from the British. And went to war to make it real.

Since then, Americans have been practicing our independence every day. I don't know how it's done, but the reality of being American is being independent. It's just part of our culture. Part of the American dream. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and all that. Depend on no one put yourself anymore than you have to.

The funny thing is that, even people like me who don't need to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, still get that independent spirit inculcated into ourselves. That desire to strive for more. Even if it's not financially based.

How does that sense of independence get passed from generation to generation? I'm not sure. Perhaps it's that our heroes fit that type. Perhaps it's the history we all learn in school. Perhaps it's just a theme in our pop culture that gets perpetuated as the American style.

Regardless of how it happens, it's a national trait. Independence. To be celebrated. And more than just one day a year.

Things The Home Inspector Doesn't Find

My new home is lovely and really there's nothing majorly wrong with it. But there are some things that the home inspector just didn't find.

The first challenge I faced was ants. Northern Virginia is one big ant hill. I knew that from my last house where the ants once invaded so badly that there was quite literally a stream of them from my front hall closet to my kitchen, carrying bits of cat food away. Disgusting. This house clearly has the same problem, which I found out the morning before I left for Florida. I was desperately afraid that, after two days with food laid out, I would come back to the same situation as in the other house. But in the end, the ants weren't that bad. The exterminator has been here, and the situation is under control. And it's just an example of what the home inspector doesn't find.

As I've posted before, this house has very nice appointments. Some of the nicest are three amazing full baths, with tile and glass enclosures. They are truly lovely. But...the shower head in the guest bathroom on the top floor squeals about one minutes into using it. The shower head in the master bath is so high that the water gets too dispersed before it hits me. Which is why I've been using the squealing guest bath. I'm going to try the other guest bath tomorrow. We'll see how it does. There's nothing really wrong with either shower head. They work. Just not how I would ideally want them to.

Tonight, I tried to change the water filter in the refrigerator. When you open the door, the light indicator for the filter is red. Which basically means that the filter is not doing its job anymore. So I bought a new one. And I can't get the old one out. The instructions say to twist it a quarter turn counter clocckwise and pull it out. But the filter doesn't turn either way. At all. Again, not something on the home inspector's list, but something that it would be awfully nice to have work.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining really. You just wish that the home inspector could tell you everything that you might need to know.

Back To The Routine

House - settled.
Cats - settling in.
Job - started.

This past weekend was the first weekend in over a month that really felt like a weekend.

The previous weekend, the family was in Florida celebrating my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. So, hardly a normal weekend.

The previous several weekends didn't really differ much from the weeks. Being out of work will do that. I was packing and moving, and unpacking and sleeping in hotels. Hardly my normal existence either.

But this weekend, after a full week of work (including some OT of course!), life got back to its usual routine. Cat volunteering on Saturday. Grocery shopping and other errands on Sunday. Workouts both days. Much more the kind of weekend I have had for many years.

And you know what? It felt good. It felt right. Even though it was only two days, after over a month of not working.

Weird, huh?

The Epic Epic

First round. Three-day match. No fifth set tie breaker. 70-68. SEVENTY games to SIXTY-EIGHT games! In the fifth set. After more than 11 hours of play and 183 games total. Stopped twice because it got too dark. Over 100 aces from both players. More than 250 winners from each player, too. Epic doesn't seem to quite cover it. As Isner put it, it's too bad that someone had to lose.

The sad news. Isner lost his very next match. After 11 hours of play over three days, it took only a little over an hour for his next opponent to bounce him.

Still, there will probably never be another match like this one. And both players will end up in the record books regardless of what they might do in the future.

Making A House A Home

The cats and I have been in our new house for 10 days now.

I've been unpacking boxes and deciding whether the furniture is where I want it. Most of the boxes have been unpacked. The furniture seems to be in the right place, at least for the time being.

Before I moved into this home, I knew that I was going to need more stuff. After all, this house in almost twice the size of my previous one. I need to fill spaces. I have a deck, so I need patio furniture. I have three living spaces - a living room, a family room, and an open downstairs where I have put the TV. I had two couches, so I need a third or some other form of seating. And I need to figure out where to put the art that I have and what new art I might want.

Buying furniture turns out to be more complicated than I had imagined. What kind of patio furniture do I want? Wood, metal, or wicker. I hate wicker, so that much was an easy decision. Wood is harder to maintain. Metal can rust. Ultimately, it came down to taste. Clean lines. Simple lines. I ended up with metal.

Even more complicated have been the decisions about seating. I have discovered that microfiber or faux suede are the best choices for fabric because the cats don't pick at them. Or if they do, it doesn't show. Either way, I will get more life out of the furniture with those fabrics. So that's the first decision. From there, it's a question of what style of seating. Again, I want clean and simple. Almost Asian, but not. Modern. Sleek, but not cold. Functional.

I looked for several weeks before I had even moved. And had found next to nothing that I actually liked. Even given that I had a bigger space to fill, and so could get one of the gi-normous couches that are around these days, nothing seemed quite right. Current styles seem to lean toward ornate furniture. So not me. Clean and simple seemed to be relegated to Ikea, and I was trying to go a little more upscale.

Then I found a sectional and coffee table that I just really liked. But that didn't really fit the space I needed to fill. The room that I really needed seating for was the living room. A sectional, even a really nice one, somehow just doesn't fit with my plans for that space. I need a more traditional couch to go with the two arm chairs I already have. But I really liked this sectional. It was clean and simple, and came in microfiber. Perfect. So I decided to get it and replace the couch that is currently downstairs in front of the TV. Or rather, move that couch to the family room upstairs and get rid of the sofabed that is both ancient (at least 10 years old) and beat up (not microfiber, very much cat-scratched). That still left a couch for the living room. I think I have found a solution there, too, though I haven't seen it in person yet and I need that. Hopefully soon.

Beyond furniture, though, to me, the touches that make a house a home are the accessories, the knickknacks, the tchotchkes. Placing the artwork is proving a more daunting tasks than the furniture. I have found a few homes for my existing pieces, but not many. And while I have quite a bit of artwork and knickknacks, I need more. And I need different types. I need more art, less box-store stuff. I need things with flair, not just the things I bought was I was 20 and that's all I could afford.

But those are not quick finds. It was much easier to walk into a box store and buy decorations at 20. At almost 50, it's much harder to be selective. To take the time to really fall in love with each piece.

So the house will be finished soon. The last of the boxes will be unpacked. The furniture will be bought and put in place. The spaces will be filled.

But the home is going to take a while longer.

Lost Cat!

As if there hadn't been enough drama in my life lately, in the middle of moving, I lost a cat.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have two cats, Mia and Brianne (Brie). They are both scaredy cats, quite literally. Most of my friends and family have seen only glimpses of them. Repair people never see them. They love me, but they really don't like other people. So they hide. Under beds. In closets. Anywhere they believe they won't be seen.

Moving day was, I'm sure, a very stressful day for cats who prefer things left alone. Most cats are not fond of change. As a general rule, cats prefer life to be very routine and comfortable. It's one of the reasons that I have people come to my hosue to feed them if I travel, rather than taking them to a kennel or something. They would rather be alone for days on end, and only fed once a day, than be uprooted. So change is not their thing.

And moving requires monumental change. First, the house had been devolving for a couple of weeks. Boxes everywhere. Paths across spaces were no longer available as boxes multiplied. Closets were being emptied, which meant not only were comfortable spots being taken away, but there were less places to hide. Quite a few strange people had come to the house to give estimates for various move-related things and to fix last-minute things that needed fixing. Lots of change. Lots of new people. Life was definitely not normal and routine.

On top of that, I was home all day. Well, most of each day. That too was change, but change they could get behind. My cats, after all, do love me. The more of me, the better.

So June 5 was move day. The movers came about 9 am, and we spent 3-1/2 hours getting everything I owned into the truck to move to the new house. The front and back doors were open for most of that time, of course. At one point, I did go looking for the cats and found them both in closets upstairs. Empty closets, but I guess still protection from the big, bad movers.

The movers and I got in our respective vehicles and traveled across town to unpack in the new place. Another 3-1/2 hours later, all was settled in. Since I wasn't really the owner of the house yet, I had only an agreement to move my stuff into the house. The cats and I were not allowed to stay there. So I had booked us a hotel for a few nights until I actually closed on the new house.

I was debating about going to the old house and getting the cats that Saturday night. I was thinking that it might be better for them to just stay where they were, even if there was no furniture to speak of in the house, just because it was familiar. While I debated, I went to get something to eat. I decided that, at a minimum, I had to go feed the cats. While I was eating, though, I got a wave of homesickness. Since I didn't have a home right then, I figured the best way to cure my homesickness was to at least have my furry kids with me. So I headed over to the old house to pick them up and take them back to the hotel.

Brie greeted me - crying of course - at the front door. One cat in carrier. Whew!

Mia was hiding. Big surprise. Mia is always hiding. Especially during the day. I had thought that, since it was dinner time, she might come out if I pretended to feed her. So I shook a food bag and popped open a can of food. Still no Mia.

Then I went looking.

Upstairs closets. Empty. Under the vanity. Empty. Tub. Empty. Downstairs bathroom. Empty. Now, that's really all the spaces for a cat to hide in the house. Except...behind the furnace.

Behind the furnace is actually one of Mia's favorite places in the whole world. She would sit outside the laundry room door and dry to get into that room - just so she could hide behind the furnace. In another blog entry, I talked about trying to leave for a flight to California, and Mia getting behind the furnace and not coming out for an hour or so. So once I couldn't find her in any of the closets or other rooms, I figured that must be where she was. I couldn't hear her, but if she was traumatized enough, she wouldn't be "talking". She would be very mad at me for all the commotion. Stubborn tortie.

So I left food in the laundry room and, panicking more than a little, left the house. I called my parents, crying about my missing cat. My mom drove down from Maryland to stay with me, and we formed a plan to go back to the house late that night and see if we could get Mia to come out. There was some advice, too, that if she had gotten outside - I didn't think she would have gone out, but had to be realistic about the options - that she would show up in the middle of the night. There was also a thought that she might have been packed up with the last-minute boxes. So I went to the new house and torn open every box that I hadn't packed myself. No Mia. But at the same time, I did get a blanket that would smell like me and the cats to try to lure Mia out.

Saturday night, Mom and I headed over to the house about 11 pm. We hung out on the front stairs (one of only a couple of places to sit) and just chatted amiably for a little while. I wanted to at least hear a cry from Mia. Just to know she was inside. Even if she was hiding. I went into the laundry room and called and called for her. No Mia. I thought I heard a cry a couple of times. But nothing confirmed.

I wouldn't say I slept much that night. Mom, Brie, and I were pretty restless. Brie, I'm sure, missed her sister. I was miserable thinking Mia was outside and scared out of her mind. I was thinking about how to reconcile myself to never seeing her again. To having only one cat. It was a horrible thought, but I had to be realistic. If Mia had gotten out, to a place she had never been before, there was a real possibility that she would never make it back. Or be killed by a car. Or a raccoon or fox or some other wild animal. And I would never know what happened. Also, all the information online about lost animals said it could take weeks for them to show up again. Well, this wasn't going to be my home anymore after another couple of days. I couldn't sit on the front steps in the middle of the night for a week and hope that Mia showed up.

Sunday morning, we got up early and went over to the house to see if the food had been eaten. Or the litter used. No sign that either had been touched. No crying cat. No Mia anywhere.

We went to the new house and printed up Lost Cat flyers. We posted them around the neighborhood and told everyone who was outside about the lost cat. Then Mom went home, having done all she could do to help me.

I was despondent, but still convinced that the cat was in the house. On Monday, I had an appointment at the new house, and was going to need to take Brie with me as I was changing hotels. So I went to the pet store to get a collar and leash for her, and optimistically, bought one for Mia too. While there, I talked to my animal rescue friends, and they agreed that Mia was probably inside the house somewhere. I heard lots of stories about lost cats showing up inside of homes, having been hidden in the strangest places. I called my real estate agents and told them that, at closing, the new owner may get more than just a house. She might inherit a house with a cat in it too.

Sunday night, I went back to the house and hung out in the living room. Just me and the computer, listening to some music, playing some games, and reading a book. I thought that, if I made noise like I was just hanging out, Mia would come out to see me. After a couple of hours, no Mia. I left.

But I had talked to my niece and had decided that maybe I needed to spend the night there. I went to my niece's house to get an air mattress, pillows, and blankets to camp out on the living room floor.

When I got back to the house, I heard a cry. Crying cat. But it wasn't coming from behind the furnace. It was coming from the kitchen. But we had opened every cabinet door! And then I heard it again. And I moved the fridge. And out came a cat. A very scared cat.

I grabbed her and put her in the carrier. There would be time for kisses later. I wasn't taking any more chances.

I called everyone who had helped with the search. I posted on Facebook to let everyone know Mia had finally come out.

Drama over. Sisters reunited. Lost cat found.

The Things You Keep

I am moving in a couple of weeks. So I'm packing boxes and making decisions about what gets moved and what doesn't. It's always a time of revisiting the past too as one decides what to throw away and what to keep.

I had already done a fair amount of purging before I started packing to move. In preparing my house for sale, I cleaned out closets and stored away a bunch of things to make my house seem bigger and cleaner. So some of my memory lane has already been traversed.

But today I found another treasure trove. A stack of magazines and newspapers that, at one point, had meaning in my life. Here's the inventory:

- Newspaper section of the Washington Post from 1/1/2000 about the change in the millenium
- The Opinion section of the Washington Post from the turn of the millenium
- George magazine's tribute to its fallen founder, John Kennedy Jr.
- The Industry Standard from 1999 with a list of the top IPOs, one of which was a company I had worked for
- The front section of the Washington Post from September 12, 2001
- A Washington Post magazine's special edition of views from all around the city

I kept the special section on the millenium. I'm not sure I'll ever look at it again, but it's an interesting piece of history. I kept the WP from 9/12/01. Again, it's a look at history. I don't personally know anyone who was killed, thank goodness. But I know people who do and I certainly still remember the horror of that day. I kept the George magazine too. I'm not sure why, but I remember that magazine quite fondly. It was a fresh take on politics at a time when I was involved to some extent in my work at Hart Research. I never had much of a crush on John Kennedy Jr., but I appreciated his position in history, which tragically became even more significant with his death. Finally, I kept the Industry Standard. Not so much because of the IPO from a company with which I no longer have any affiliation, but because of that era in the Internet's history. 1999 was a time of great change in our technological history. And so I thought the magazine would be interesting for that reason.

The things you keep. No really good reason for my keeping any of these items. And yet, I couldn't bear to throw them away. Until the next move...

Cold Feet

Today is May 10. Last week, the temperature hit 90 degrees. Today, the high was 65. That's reasonably typical for spring in the DC area. The temperature outside yo-yos pretty significantly this time of the year. So not a surprise that it was hot last week and cooler this week.

What is not typical is frost. This morning, there was frost on our cars. Frost! In May!

Last week, my office moved across the street into new offices. In our old offices, everyone had their own radiator and could regulate the temperature in their office. In our new offices, we are on a single thermostat as is more usual for office buildings.

The problem is that it is FREEZING in our offices. Today, on May 10, I wore the same clothes I would have worn in February - long pants, knee-his, boots, long-sleeved shirt, and a camisole. And I was still cold. About mid-morning, I decided it was crazy to be cold, and so I put on my outside coat. The coat that I had worn to combat the frost this morning!

And I was still cold. So I broke out the leg warmers. And put them on my feet over my boots.

Because if your feet are cold, you are cold.

To Honor Mothers

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. In thinking about this day, I realized that I know a lot of mothers and that they are a diverse crew.

First, there are the traditional mothers. I actually don't know very many of those, perhaps because I am not one. My mother fits that category. She and my father are going to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary next month. Not many people can say that. I have a few other friends who are what one might call traditional mothers - married to their first husbands, mothers of children by that husband, and living happy lives in suburbia.

While I definitely appreciate and honor the traditional mothers, I am in many ways more moved by the non-traditional ones.

I have several friends who are stepmothers, including my sister. It's not easy to become a mother to a child who already has one. Some stepmothers have to step in and become the mother for the child, whatever the reason. Some stepmother have to tread that difficult line of being there for the children in their lives without taking over a full parenting role. Either way, it's not an easy role and yet, with divorce as prevalent as it is and more men wanting to continue to be involved in their children's lives, there are many women who are in this important role.

Other mothers I know have adopted children. My extended family has become quite diverse from these situations. One cousin and his wife adopted twins from Guatemala and a little girl from New Orleans. Another cousin and her husband adopted a boy (not a baby, but a boy) from Russia. It takes a special person to adopt a child.

The last category of mothers in my life are the most non-traditional. They are the fosters and caretakers of animals. Now, you might argue that being a foster parent to an animal is not the same as taking care of a child. And in some instances that may be true. I myself have been a foster mom to kittens several times, and I wouldn't necessarily equate that to being a mother of child - even if I did have to worry about their growing up, their health, and getting home promptly to take care of them. But many of the fosters of animals that I know are fostering animals who need special care. Maybe they have a health problem. Maybe they have a behavior problem. Both of these situations require more devotion than that of an average pet-parent. Mothering, if you will.

So on this Mother's Day, I say thank you to all the mothers - whatever their situation. Regardless of the other being - human or animal - in their care.

The Cute Boy

So I'm trying to decide whether the cute salesman from one of the moving companies I've been talking to was flirting with me because he was trying to make a sale or flirting with me because he was interested.

First, let me say that he's probably too young for me anyway. I'm a terrible judge of these things, but I don't think he was over 40. I have no problems dating a little younger, but that might be pushing it. That being said, it's interesting to consider the possibilities. Now, let's examine the interactions and see what conclusions we can come to.

We started inventory for the move on the main floor - living room, dining room, kitchen. He said he was taking notes about how many boxes I would have, in addition to furniture, so we glanced through kitchen cabinets. He noted that my cats were well fed - there was a full supply of cans in the pantry. First personal comment.

Moving into the living / dining room, I noted that I collect vases and wondered if I should move them or whether they would. He said they moved State Department people around the country, so he thought they could handle a few vases and pictures (I asked about those too). A salesman kind of thing to say, of course. Name dropping, as it were.

We went downstairs, where he noted that the cats were not "people" cats. Which is true. Big chickens, both of them. I guess he noted this because he didn't see them. Hmmm.... Not sure what that was all about. I have an exercise ball in my downstairs. He asked me if I actually used the ball. I said that I did, actually (I had used it just the night before). Another personal comment. (FWIW--he was obviously a bodybuilder)

We came upstairs to the bedrooms. We talked a little about the challenges of moving the big armoire in my guest room. He thought it would be okay (other mover wasn't so sure). I opened the closets to show him the clothes and stuff (to determine boxes and wardrobes). He said they would dismantle and put back together the beds - nice! Conversation confined to moving.

I showed him the little closet in my master bedroom. He commented that I didn't have *that* much of a shoe collection. Of course, that's only the summer shoes. Then we went to the big closet, where the rest of my shoes are and my boots. His comment - he'd seen more shoes; I didn't have *that* many. But then he picked up my pink suede boots and said "But I'm not sure about these." To which I replied "I have a matching sweater". And he said, "You need a sun dress to go with them too". Interesting...

Back to the kitchen to talk more specifics about the move and for him to give me a brochure. He pointed out some of the more salient parts - things movers aren't supposed to move (did you know that includes jewelry - interesting) and some other things. Like loaded weapons and ammunition. He said "You don't have any ammunition, do you?" I said, in flirting mode, "No, but I do have some nunchucks. The State of Virginia considers those weapons." Ha, ha, ha. Now, normally when I bring up my martial arts background, guys say something really stupid like "Oooh, I'm afraid of you". Yuk! He said "I like a woman who can protect herself". Right answer!

Then he scratched his back. He explained (not that I hadn't noticed; his nose was bright red) that he'd gotten a sunburn this past weekend and it was now starting to peel - hence the scratching. I noted that I had gotten some sun over the weekend too driving around with my top down. Now, the last guy I had just met that I said that to made the retort "Top down? Oh, you mean the car". Which I think was meant to be cute, but just came off as a little sleazy. This guy said, "Yeah, you need to be careful about that." Much better. I said that I had gone out on Saturday and gotten a little too much sun with a t-shirt on, so on Sunday I went out with a tank top to even out the color on my arms and avoid a farmers tan. I didn't mean that to be provocative, but it kind of came off that way. He said that I couldn't really cure all my tan lines driving around in my car, because if he saw someone (me?) driving without a shirt on, he would drive off the side of the road. Why did I not see this as a sleazy comment? Not sure. We were flirting. It was cute in flirting mode. I said that, even when I'm wearing a top with spaghetti straps, I notice guys checking out my bare shoulders and seeing whether there is anything else to see. He said "Well, if a good-looking woman like you were driving down the street with bare shoulders, I'd check it out too. Well, really I'd check you out anyway." Now, that's really getting personal, no? We went on to talk about something else (not important), and then we getting ready to go I put my sunglasses in the collar of my shirt (I do that all the time rather than putting them on my head or back in my purse), and I guess it brought down the neck of my shirt a little more because he said "Yes, you did get a little sun this weekend, didn't you?" Now, with the other guy, that would have annoyed me. With this guy, I guess I was okay with his noticing my cleavage.

During the course of our walking around, he also mentioned that it's just him and his dog (we were talking about not having a really big bed - height-wise - he liked my platform beds). That's the kind of personal detail that I would drop if I wanted a guy to know that I was single. Same for him? Hmmm.... Or he could have just been creating empathy by making himself similar to me - single with pets. Trying to make the sale.

So now I wonder? Flirting to make a sale? Flirting because of possible interest? If I do hire these movers, then I'll see him again to finalize the deal and get boxes from him. But if I do hire these movers, I think I will not try to explore anything more than flirtation until after my move. Because I wouldn't want it to be awkward if he wasn't interested. Or even if he was. Because if he was, he also might not be willing to show it unless or until the move was over. To avoid a conflict of interest, as it were. So things to think about.

But mostly, it was fun to flirt again with a cute boy.