February 28, 2014

Last day of February.

Very cold today. Feels like -8 degrees below zero.

Coldest temperatures of the Century for some.  I think we might be included, if not officially then certainly by mere personal opinion.

I got the email that I was so excitedly waiting for from the possible 3-month freelance job this morning and unfortunately they have decided to continue working with their current picture editor. It was difficult to read, difficult to accept. But accept it, I did...and quickly. There is absolutely no time to fret over the proverbial spilt milk. 

The email was very complimentary about my experience, my ideas, my resume, my organization and my aesthetic and left room for working together in the future. Again, even rejection done in the most professional and kind way...is still rejection. It's tough. But resiliency is one of my acquired characteristics, having to bounce back from my share of disappointment in 53 years on the earth.

In the least, I've made a new friend named Molly. And that...is a good thing.

(I do feel as though I should quickly send off an email to another friend and former school mate who is so keenly worried about Harry and me...tell him I still have hope, still have some possibilities and that I still voraciously devour all the job search websites, network groups and keep in touch with my friends in the business absolutely every day. And that March begins tomorrow. We are getting closer and closer to spring and renewal. And that, too...is a good thing.) 

Sigh.

The record cold continues and even the heartiest of the long-time residents have begun to complain about the temperatures. My sister leaves for work every morning at 6:30 a.m., for her job at a local school as the self-proclaimed "lunch lady." She's greeted temperatures of minus 13 degrees the last few mornings. "Boy, that's cold!" She's said while shuddering her shoulders for added emphasis. And everything is covered with solid ice. Warming temperatures one day, met by the liquid melt and refreeze of another day, left Mom's (and my sister's) driveway a solid sheet of ice. 

Tracks over solid ice.

Mom bought about 50 pounds of playground sand to sprinkle over the entire driveway (always keeping the environment in mind, she chose sand over the myriad of ice melts available here.) There's a light layer of new snow over the ice which reveals some of the animals that frequent the yard. There were opossum tracks (although my brother-in-law says they are raccoon and I have yet to look them up in Mom's local wildlife book for authentication), birds, rabbits and one group that I couldn't really identify, nor could anyone else.

Opossum?

Bird on the front steps.

We are making a big trip to Costco Saturday morning...in Madison.  Family outing. My sister, her daughter and her daughter's daughter, Mom, Harry and me, all stuffed into my sister's van. Options for shopping are limited and I've expressed my feelings in the past about the local Wal-Mart, so I won't do that again. It's nice to have the option of Costco, only 50 miles by major highway. We haven't made the trek in some time and we all have our own lists and lists of other family members.

Selfie in the late afternoon winter light.

Looking forward to the season of renewal, I'm thinking of starting some seed plants that Harry and I can plant when the ground begins to thaw. The growing season is short in Wisconsin it seems, but growing up we had a wonderful vegetable garden and a beautiful cut-flower garden. I'd like Harry to have that experience too, but perhaps not on the scale as when we were children. The gardens were huge and took a great deal of attention and tending to. It is a very fond memory, though, seeing things come to life and to grow to produce the vibrant colors of tomatoes, carrots, onions, Irises, Zinnias, sunflowers and many other things. And looking back on the size of the two gardens, it's all the more an impressive memory!

Maybe we'll make that a little journey this weekend as well, buying seedlings to start Harry's garden and making new memories of renewal, growth and childhood.

February 25, 2014

Harry and I went on a picnic last week. Yes, a picnic…in the dead of winter…in Wisconsin.  We packed up a little bag of snacks and walked into the woods to find just the right spot. Harry used to eat quite well as a baby, every single kind of fruit and vegetable you can imagine. He loved pears and parsnips and spinach! Rutabaga and kale and kiwi! As he grew into toddlerhood, he ate tuna and salmon and peanut butter for proteins. When he started going to school, he stopped eating peanut butter. We couldn’t send it along to school for lunch – too many children with nut allergies. School was a nut free zone. So he stopped eating it at home too. And for some reason, he started refusing the fish as well.

Although I know vitamins aren’t ideal and can’t replace the nutrients of actual food, he does get a daily dose of all natural vegetable and fruit gummy vitamins, but he refuses most real food. He has his favorites and is not often inspired to try new things. He eats yogurt (Mango and Honey), Vermont extra sharp cheddar cheese, Stacy’s crackers – he calls them Cracker Crackers – bananas, applesauce, bread, Goldfish, the occasional graham cracker, waffles, pancakes, Chex, and Cheerios. Grandma has managed to sneak into the mix an infrequent Apricot or Peach yogurt and he has gobbled it down while distracted watching The Adventures of Peter Rabbit on his iPad. He actually asked to try a grape tomato, a firm little red gem, the other day. I was thrilled! He bit it quickly in half and then handed it back to me with his little nose scrunched up as far as it could scrunch “Um, I don’t like this.” I wasn’t surprised by his reaction. I was thrilled that he wanted to try it. Small victories.

Just across the street and half way down the road through the woods to my sister’s house, sits Uncle Gilbert’s ice shanty, a perfect place for a winter picnic. It’s kind of just parked there, in the woods, not on the ice. Our picnic was grand. We sat on old car seats, ate bananas and looked out the little window in the door into the woods.  Harry wore a red and white fuzzy Santa hat. He’s been wearing the hat (borrowed from Auntie Laura’s collection) almost constantly since he saw The Polar Express last week  (probably for the 483^rd time) at my niece Rebecca’s house. He viewed it on what I believe is a 50-inch screen. Quite a treat since our regular viewing is done on Grandma’s old Quasar! We’ve been reading “'The Night Before Christmas” – two different versions of the holiday classic – at bedtime, Harry’s choice. He talks about Santa all the time too. This is the first year that he’s been so enthralled with all the details of Christmas, The Nutcracker, the baby Jesus and the Nativity…and so unwilling to put them away until next year. He is four.

On our way to the picnic.

A banana in the ice shanty.

I’m feeling a little cautiously excited these days. With the help of emails and phone calls from friends and colleagues, I’ve found two full-time positions to apply to and one possible freelance position that is incredibly intriguing.  I’ve got a conference call appointment tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. Of course when I made that appointment, I had daycare lined up for Harry (Miss Margie is on her second week of vacation) and a clear landline for the call.  Since then my niece has cancelled on the daycare, she’s ill. And there is absolutely no possible way to have a business call with Harry in the room.  He is of the age when he MUST have all my attention all of the time. “Watch this, Mommy.  Watch this.  Mommy, you’re not watching. Mommy! Watch this,” as he flies back and forth in and out of the living room whirling his arms around his chest, chugging and puffing and huffing and chuffing his best train imitation. Everyone is pitching in to try to solve the challenge.  Mom has volunteered to take a half-day off.  That is quite generous, but a horrible idea just to cover for a phone call. My sister suggested I call my niece Sarah, who she believes has the day off and might be able to come to the house to entertain Harry. She’s quite good with him and he would be fine with her.  The last resort really is to walk him over to my sister’s house and leave him with Gilbert, my sister’s husband.  It’s not that he’s not capable, but his interaction with Harry is usually to tease and torture him (in a Uncle Gilbert kind of way.)  I have an Uncle Bernie and when we were kids, we used to try like anything to escape his two-handed tweak of our cheeks as he said “Hello.” It’s that kind of thing with Gilbert and Harry.  Gilbert wants to tickle him or dangle him upside down or something equivalent.  My sister wants to know if I reach Sarah, my Mom wants to know if I reach Sarah. I’ve left a message on her phone…a new phone since her old one was stolen a couple of weeks ago. Everything is on hold…literally.

I’m excited about the possibilities of the freelance opportunity. It’s with a very nicely done start-up magazine (that I probably shouldn't mention by name just yet, but it explores the ideas of making connections between what we eat, how we live and the planet) and was very generously sent my way by my dear friend (and former colleague) Dina.  She’s a sweetheart to constantly keep Harry and I in her thoughts (and a sweetheart to keep reading my blog.)

Growing things.

I was SO excited about the possibilities of sustaining Harry’s and my existence by freelancing from here that I started investigating a new iMac with a 27 inch screen and smoking processor, memory and storage. It would be an investment in our future, but a necessary one to handle the work I will be doing. I will also need to bring the Internet to Mom's slightly drafty old farmhouse. That...is change. 

That change will involve a satellite dish. I asked Mom if she would mind putting that sort of thing on her roof and she hesitated a long while. "Mom?" I said, wondering if she'd heard me.  "Well, it's a brand new roof!" She said, quickly exasperated. I think they might be able to put it on the side of the house. It just has to have a clear angle in the southwest sky. We can and will certainly avoid the brand new roof.  There aren't a lot of options in the hinterlands of Wisconsin, so we'll have to make due. 

I've got a lot to figure out in very little time. I need my own little office here in 53965. And that has given me that lump in the throat, kind of sick feeling I get when I'm excited and nervous and happy all at once.

It's a great feeling.

Orange at the orange store, Home Depot.

February 21, 2014

Being unemployed for 7 months has afforded me a great deal of time for introspection. Maybe too much time. I know I made some mistakes professionally, in the course of my career. And in that, I think I am among the many, not among the few. Thankfully, there were no major irreversible ones. And I’ve definitely made some mistakes personally. I have had a lot of time to consider those mistakes…and to think about the kind of person I am and the kind of person I’ve always wanted to be. It’s actually something that I’ve always thought about on some level…because I was raised by a mother who was very loving, thoughtful, self-sacrificing, and just plain kind. She taught us (my sister, brother and me) to be grateful, to appreciate small things, to notice the beauty of the world in everything and to follow the Golden Rule, of course.

Winter white Hydrangea.

In the last few years in Boston, I think I unconsciously suspended that “molding-of-self” while trying to just plain catch up with life. At times, just surviving took priority. We’d gone through a lot of change in the office. I was constantly sleep deprived. I was preoccupied with the wrong things and putting what energy I did have into worrying about what was wrong instead of how much I had been blessed.

I’ve always tried to live a life of gratitude, grateful for the smallest of things. I would always say an audible “Thank you” to the Parking Fairy when I came upon a great parking spot in Boston. Enjoyed the blue, blue skies and the starry nights. And actually, really, stopped to smell the flowers along the way. (And I’ve been teaching Harry to do the same.)

Smelling the flowers along the way.

Blue, blue skies.

But when you are unhappy about one thing or another (or many things) and if you are not cognizant of the power of sadness, you can be swallowed whole. I never went completely off track, Harry kept me righted, but I did derail a few times. I don’t know if any of that really makes sense. Suffice it to say that there are things that I wished I had handled differently. That…is what life is all about though, isn’t it? Experiencing, making mistakes, learning along the way and hopefully ending up in a better place…molded as a better human. It’s all a journey. And a bumpy one at that.

I had gone to a spiritualist named Souda, recommended by a good friend, for a “reading,” for the first time several years ago. I suppose some might think that’s a bit…well…nuts, depending on your belief system. I wasn’t really sure what I believed before I went, but I trusted my friend, so I went. After sitting and listening to her tell me about me…well, I was convinced that she had some kind of something. She told me that angels and spirits talked to her, told her things. She knew specifics - not just generalities - and she offered me some advice that was, after all, just plain common sense: “Live a life of gratitude. Begin every day conscious of what you are grateful for and the blessings that you have.”  She said she knew that I was sad. Granted, it wouldn’t have taken a psychic to see that. Professionally, I was very dissatisfied, actually unhappy. Personally I’d lost a close relationship, a good friend and I was struggling at times as a single parent. She described my aura as gray…very gray.  I didn’t like hearing that. Gray is fine for ferocious thunderstorms but not for humans. I did not want to be gray.

I thought about what she said every single day, made it a conscious part of my day. I thought about my blessings. I spoke them out loud, as I ran errands, did the laundry, cleaned the floor. Even after I was told that my position was being eliminated, I tried to see the blessings hidden in that devastating moment. And I did. It happened on a Monday morning, but by Wednesday, even not knowing what the future would be, I was calmer, less stressed…relieved, really.

Before I left Boston, after being unemployed for 3 months, I returned to Souda once again. I certainly had less stress in my life…well, a completely different kind of stress than what I experienced at the office every day. I had no idea how miserable I was in that position, until I wasn’t in that position any more. That is quite possibly not a great thing to say when you are currently unemployed and hope to be employed again soon, but the truth is that I had done all that I could do in that position – accomplished a great deal and had great successes. So much had changed, though, and it just wasn’t where I was supposed to be anymore.

I wanted to know if Souda could see a change too. I felt very different than I had the day that she described me as gray. I went to see her again.  Immediately after her always spirited and smiling greeting “Hello, my dear,” she said she could see happiness in my eyes and in my spirit. She said my aura was yellow and that she expected it to be pink very soon and that was very, very good. (Harry’s favorite color is pink.) She said that I was on the right path.  She said that Harry and I would be fine. “No despair,” she said, “there will be an offer.” “There will be an offer.” And she kept repeating that. She was referring to a job offer. She had given me hope - hope that I still have…for a job where I can maintain my pink aura and my grateful existence.

It’s not easy…maintaining pink. But everything in life takes effort.

Seven months of unemployment is a long time…a long time to maintain the pink. It’s been filled with emotional ups and downs. And has coincided with some of the coldest winter temperatures on record in Wisconsin. And if you don’t think that adds to the challenge, you should spend a winter here.

It is late February and winter will soon be over. And then comes the season of renewal and reinvention. The journey I’ve been on all along.

I got an email from my friend and former college schoolmate. The subject line said “Winter is not going to last much longer…” He had been reading my blog and he was worried about me. I emailed him to tell him that I was fine. The blog was just a place to write about the journey, that my feelings about this whole process were normal (as far as I know). And that if I weren’t worried about Harry’s future and our future together, there would certainly be something wrong with me.

Many, many friends and colleagues have reached out to me to offer words of encouragement along the way. And frankly complete strangers that I’ve struck up a conversation with at Starbucks or in the grocery check out line have as well. They are all certain that there is something out there for me. Something...where I will thrive and be happy. I am so grateful for those people and their support. Their words of encouragement always seem to drop into my email just about the time I need a little boost. I don’t wish this situation on anyone, certainly. Being unemployed, living with family, single parenting a small child and now without unemployment benefits or any income at all.  I don’t know what we are going to do, but I will figure it out.

I applied today for two different positions based in Washington D.C., both that I am very qualified for. There will be a lot of competition and I just hope that I’ll make it to the interview stage. Remember…take nothing for granted. If neither is the place for me, then there will be another opportunity. I trust that to be true. The passing of time is the only enemy.

The road less traveled?

February 19, 2014

I've been staring at the blank screen under the words "new post" for some time now, wondering what to write so that I'm just not repeating myself:

I am unemployed. 

I have exhausted my unemployment benefits. 

I am a single parent of a 4-year-old boy. 

I worry about his future...and mine.

I have 30 years experience in visual communication and journalism. 

I'm actually pretty talented.

I, honestly, did not think it would take this long to find a job.

7 months have passed.

I have good days of optimism about the future and some not-so-good days.

It is a sunshiny, beautiful day today, Monday's snow is melting, but the weather app on my phone says that there is more on the way for Thursday and Friday. Harry is spending 3 days this week with my niece, Rebecca. She cares for some of my grandnieces and grandnephews three times a week, and Harry was excited to spend some time with his "cousins." They aren't really his cousins. They are actually my niece and nephew's children. I'm not really sure what that makes them to Harry, but because of my late start at parenting, they are in Harry's age range and he likes playing with them. It also allows me to stay on track at the Public Library; networking online, searching job sites and trying to connect to former colleagues who might have even the slightest bit of advice for me, or leads to pursue.

Tracks in the snow.

Harry and I haven't yet made our split to the twin bed scenario. We are awaiting the arrival of the $35.00, 5-piece, "bed in a bag," circus theme quilt and sheet set that I ordered from OverStock.com. I wanted to entice Harry a bit into his sleeping independence, since he's expressed fairly mixed emotions about the whole idea. Last night was pretty awful, neither of us getting much real sleep.  Harry kept waking up and asking, "Is it time to get up yet, Mommy?"  To which I answered, "No"... at midnight...3...and finally, 5 a.m. His lack of real sleep last night was partially my fault, I suspect. Just before announcing that it was bedtime, there was a rather vigorous "tickle attack," following by some wrestling about and other animated play.  He was worked up into a pretty good frenzy when I then tried to convince him that it was now "quiet" time, "book reading" time and of course, time to "crawl into bed and close our eyes and go to sleep" time.

It's bath day, Wednesday. One of the days we make the short trek down the road or through the woods (usually after school) to my sister's house for Harry to take a bath. Mom has a very small bathroom and in the renovation that a friend and I did many years ago to bring it into the modern age - or as far into modern as was possible - we removed the tiny tub and replaced it with a shower. Mom didn't use the tub and it seemed more convenient to use the space more economically by installing a shower.  Of course, we never imagined that we would be living here together with a 4-year-old that needed baths. 

Harry, Grandma and I rode the rails again on Sunday. Harry is a long-time, big fan of trains...any train. But I have to admit that he is a creature of habit and introducing the idea of riding in the caboose instead of the passenger car required a bit of finesse. He started out by flatly refusing the idea. "No. I don't want to ride in the caboose." Mind you, this was an idea that he had expressed many times - that is, the desire to actually ride in the caboose, where "the conductor sits." I wanted to switch things up a bit on the "Snow Train," a 55-minute ride into the Baraboo foothills and back to the station. I was even looking forward to it myself. It took some convincing and some calm consoling when he plunged quickly into refusal and added tears. We were actually aboard the caboose by then and I was trying to get him seated. I was standing behind him, making my 4th or 5th attempt to lift him to the cupola seats (very high seats in the caboose that afford a rather nice view of the outside, track and the rest of the train) as he wriggled out of my grasp. As the train suddenly lurched forward, he immediately quieted. I lifted him quickly into his seat.

One of two Snow Trains. 

A broom for clearing snow...on the Snow Train.

The Conductor explains the details of the caboose.

If there is one thing that I have learned (albeit, the hard way) it's that a 4-year-old is a study in contradictions. At least my 4-year-old. At times those contradictions come in incredible waves and mere seconds apart. "Harry, would you like Mango yogurt for breakfast." "No, I don't want Mango yogurt." One. Two. "Mommy, I want some Mango yogurt for brexfist." (Harry is still working on the pronunciation of the word for the morning meal.) "Harry, we need to get going or we'll be late for school." "I don't want to go to school." One. Two. "Mommy, I need to get dressed for school."

Sigh.

It was a great day for a train ride and we did enjoy the caboose. We were treated to some information delivered by the volunteer conductor himself. It was all very interesting history about the line and the acquisition of the old cars and engines, and even how the train operates and the conductor's role. The caboose was not intended for passengers, only for crew, so it was pretty neat to experience the ride from that perspective. And most of all, Harry enjoyed the ride after all.  He spent the entire rest of the day pretending to be an engine, running from one room of the house to the next, blowing his whistle, making huffing and chuffing sounds, and moving his arms in motion - round and round - like the metal wheels he had seen that morning.

An engine being refurbished.

Harry's view in the cupola.

All in all, it was a good day.