Caterwauling

1. How to Go From Working 60 Hours a Week to 40 By Sending 2 Emails a Week

Seriously? I am thrilled when I get it DOWN to 60 hours! If I get it down to 40, I’m going to see a unicorn farting out a rainbow of sparkle dust. MY EYES ARE NOT READY FOR THAT.

2. In addition to ex-stefather-type, another of Mom’s illustrious exes is hurt he didn’t hear from me this year. And Mom’s uncle yelled at her for only sending a card and not calling too.

You know, for two grown-ass women who don’t have daddies … and to who these men barely pay a whit of attention throughout the entire year … you’d think they’d mind their damn business. And my own great-uncle’s daughter didn’t even bother doing anything for him at all.

Ex-stepfather-type person told Mom he’s hurt that I didn’t wish him a Happy Father’s Day.

Well for fuck’s sake. Of course I thought of him yesterday.

And I cast a pox upon his house.

What more does he want?

How about answering any of my texts to, for the love of God, help me to help my mom? Since you are in the MEDICAL FIELD and she has CHRONIC AND ACUTE ILLNESSES?

I haven’t been to a Weight Watchers meeting in more than a month. Mostly because I’ve developed a love affair with Bell Plantation PB Thins cookies and YOU CANNOT TEAR US APART.

Ahem.

Last meeting I attended, we had a guest leader whom I love. Grace was speaking of our “Extra” 49 points we get in a week, and she said she doesn’t spend them. Plain and simple.

She lost 110 pounds at age 70, so believe me, I’m listening.

She told us her husband will nudge her to eat a bite of his dessert, or friends will encourage her to have a cocktail or eat something they cooked because they made it for her.

And that’s all well and good when she has the points to spare, but she said, “I jealously guard my 49 points. I want them to be there if and when I need them. I do not spend them just because I can.”

Lately I haven’t been jealously guarding my points. I still keep track even when I don’t go to meetings, but I have been kind of going off the rails on the weekends. So, no points to spare midweek when I REALLY NEED SOME WINE.

Something I’ve been guarding jealously however has been my time. Last week I “only” gave 60 hours to my full-time job.

And … the world didn’t end.

What did I do with my “free” time, you ask?

Took care of my health. Physical and metaphysical.

Now if only I could get consistent in guarding my time the way Grace guards her points (oh, yeah, and to learn from her and do THAT too), this would actually be another awesome week.

Met a guy yesterday. Generally not an unusual occurrence. Nor the way it played out.

I walked to Starbucks in the morning and was walking across the bridge on my way home. He was in front of me and slowed down to talk.

We had a nice conversation (it’s a long bridge) and he was going to go to the beach at the end of the bridge, and I was going to hang a left and head home.

I said enjoy the day, and he asked if he could walk with me a little while longer.

I said no. I was thinking, “Never let them know where you live.”

He pleaded his case, “You’re so funny! I loved talking with you. I enjoy your smile and want to keep talking with you.”

Now, how sweet was that, right?

Here’s the thing.

I know I’m funny and interesting and just plain awesome when I want to be. When there’s no pressure. When there’s no reason to care either way what kind of impression I make.

But the point I really want to make is sure I may be brilliant to him, but was he to me?

Not really.

Men have the ability to chat up anyone, so he’ll find someone else.

And I expect to find someone else … one who gets me all tongue-tied and twisted because I’m so enamored and eager to impress because he’s dazzling MY brain.

It can happen. It’s gotta happen … right?

I did not have the worst week. Go figure.

I attribute my happiness to working from home three days last week. Everything seems surmountable when I’m staring at the ocean while I’m dealing with it.

I also think my conclusion helps that I can feel “meh” inside 40 (72) hours a week as long as I have something to look forward to. (And Winger is coming to town next month …)

Things are fine right now and I know to appreciate these boring moments. But …

*cue continual existential dilemma*

But what if we were put on this earth to be amazed and wowed and challenged (in a good way) and to be filled with wonder (again, in a good way) more often than not?

At the point I stopped having a family to return to, and being the only one capable of keeping a roof over my family’s (i.e., mom and cat) head, I gave up on chasing dreams. Or having them, for that matter.

But I was talking to a friend who still has those dreams. And while part of me wanted to pat my friend on the head because it’s so damn cute, another part of me said, “I want to help you because that dream is just fine by me, too.”

I’m not saying others’ dreams are or should be my own. But, you know. It’s a start.

To work from home or not to work from home? That is never a question.

As we get closer to leaving Ye Olde Alligator Farm and closer to civilization, the “Which part of Civilization?” discussion is next. Will we live on the Mother Ship still too far north for my tastes? Or move gloriously, independently South? Or in the Deep South, so to speak?

Mom’s and my Spidey senses always have us north with the Mother Ship. Where I’m sure I will get snubbed for a big-girl office again and relegated to General Population. Which, I like my corner now. However, I can’t imagine I’ll get such a lovely setup next time around.

And today I got that stab in the heart that it’s “to the Mother Ship we go” when I had an overjoyed moment that there is someone I will never, ever, never EVER have to see again when we move. Like, Snoopy dance over-the-amber-honey-moon that’s outside my window right now.

And since the universe LOVES to fuck with me, I have a funny feeling I will be stuck with this person till I find a career alternative. Which, this is pretty much reason enough.

I think of how great it could be to sit in a room with my immediate team — my two counterparts S & P and the new person we recently brought on and the new person I’m about to bring on. This proximity could produce some big fat fucking magic, if you ask us.

And not to say they won’t throw us all in a room together on the Mother Ship. But it just won’t be the same. And we know how to come back from disappointments big and small. But I don’t know how long it would take to recover if we’re simply saying goodbye to Wally the Gator and taking with us everything else we have been literally living to leave behind.

Throughout my career, I’ve always managed men. Like, powerful and brilliant and successful and multimillionaire men. Because, I rock like that.

My newest batch is proving to be my most difficult yet. But that’s a story for another blog.

But one thing I’ve always done is be everybody’s fluffer. I’ve done everything from writing their scripts before video shoots to showing up at photo shoots to talk to them about their kids or wives or the hookers whose stomachs they used as tables to do blow … whatever. Anything to get the smile, the humor, the fire, the passion, the WHATEVER I needed from them at the time.

Today one of my boys showed up for a video shoot. So I did the fluffer routine, once again customized for my audience.

“So, how about ol’ Eric Cantor losing his seat, eh?”

Aaaand, scene. Political Viagra. My boy was all fired up and he gave it his all on-camera.

To everyone who needed this shoot to go well, you’re welcome.

One of my boys who overheard this miracle take place said, “There is really NOTHING random about you, is there? You know EXACTLY what you’re doing at all times.”

You’re damn right, Buttercup. Now if only everyone else appreciated it that much!

Went to meditation last night at a place that pumps salt through the air. My skin was perfectly flawless and my sinuses were clear … till I got home and my body went to hell like usual from the “construction” fumes. (By construction, I mean “one guy and a bag of concrete to repair a neglected 100-unit building by the sea.” Hah.)

My teacher always asks us to set an intention at the start of the session and then to revisit it before we close.

Last time I asked for peace. This time I asked for joy.

And maybe it was the salt haze but I had a very interesting discussion with my Higher Self about that joy.

As a nice finishing touch to each session, my teacher drops an Earth Oracle card at our feet before we “awaken.” This time mine was Fire.

Which, whoa.

I always struggle with my career. I mean, struggle to the point of “I don’t want to work anymore” struggle. Like, find a way to make baskets on the beach with palm leaves rather than put on another pair of pantyhose and have another rambling meeting ever again. I am so burned out on everything that I don’t want to do anything. Ever. Again. Anymore. Ever. Never. Ever. Never.

The irony here was that my Higher Self told me to shut up already and find whatever sparks some passion in me again. And that if I’m not going to find it in an office, go get a side job in something that makes me use my brain again.

Find your fire again, my Higher Self said. No one else will give you back your joy.

So to awaken with the Fire / Passion Earth Magic Oracle card at my feet, well, whoa.

Awaken, indeed.

In a world where everyone is discouraged from/punished for daring to explore whether something else could or couldn’t be better fit …

The Spreading Sclerosis of the Non-Compete Agreement

Tim Fernholz on how non-compete agreements are gaining a chokehold on American business. “Economists think that innovation can be spurred by having lots of firms in the same skilled industry working near each other; as workers move from firm to firm and mix with new people, new ideas and firms are created. Non-competes limit their ability to do that—in fact, California law makes most non-compete agreements unenforceable, and other research found that Silicon Valley has an unusually high level of inter-firm mobility for workers.”

I’m watching my idol Hillary Clinton on Diane Sawyer. In awe. And crying as hard as I did the day I stood in the presence of her greatness in the National Building Museum as she conceded the nomination to our now-current president.

Hillary hasn’t declared her candidacy for president yet (and why should she — back in the day you only had to campaign for eight months, not two years). Even though all of us who donate to her PAC have no one else we can even dream of supporting at this juncture.

What if she doesn’t run? I wouldn’t blame her one bit. A girl can only handle so much heartache in one lifetime. But if we miss out on someone extraordinary (again), I genuinely don’t think I would be able to forgive humanity. I really don’t.