My Ghost Story

I love a good ghost story. I'm not sure I per se believe in ghosts. Rather, I tend to think there is not yet a good explanation in our current science as to whatever it is that happens to the life energy (or soul or spirit) of a human as it transfers out of a person's body when they die. Our understandings of thermodynamics may begin to explain some of it. (Ok, so I'm not expressing these thoughts as clearly as I should. Having just typed that and read it back to myself, I think it even sounds a little ridiculous. But it's what I happen to feel, so I'm just going to go with it.)

Do I believe in ghosts? No, but there is certainly a part of me that really wants to, because I think the idea that ghosts are real makes for a much better story. And certainly, people all over the world have been seeing ghosts since antiquity. Maybe it is how we as humans have developed a strategy to cope with our fear of death: if we think death is not really the end, it is a little easier to accept.

While I have never actually seen a ghost, I'm pretty sure I witnessed a very specific communication between grandparent and grandchild from beyond the grave.

Here's my ghost story.

In the winter of 2004, I was at my dear friend S's house one night, a few weeks after her grandmother had died. She had had a 3-month-long battle with cancer. As a child, S had lived for a time with her grandmother, and they were quite close. Her grandmother knew her cancer was terminal, so she often talked frankly with S about her inevitable death and about her thoughts on the afterlife.

They were both fans of Sylvia Browne, a psychic who used to appear every Wednesday on The Montel Williams Show. Sylvia Browne offers a positive view of ghosts (they're nothing to be afraid of, they don't always know they're dead - so if you see one, tell them the current date, that they're dead, and that they should go to the light...). Browne insists that sometimes people who have died will send their living loved ones various signs in order to say goodbye, or perhaps to let them know they're ok on the other side. The "signs" might be things like birds that will appear at the surviving loved one's window; unusual birds, or a large number of different kinds of birds. Or a special song that has not been popular in ages that will randomly play on the radio. Or the sign could take the form of flickering lights, or brief lapses in the electricity in the home.

Or in S's case - it was all of the above.

Before her death, S's grandmother had promised her that she would send S the kinds of signs Sylvia Browne talked about to let S know she's ok, and that there is an afterlife. And boy, did she. At the funeral, all kinds of rare birds showed up and apparently put on quite a flying display. For weeks, anytime S did the dishes at the sink under her kitchen window, a little bird would show up and tap lightly on the glass.

There was this old Dolly Parton song S used to listen to with her grandmother in the early 80s, and that she hadn't heard in years. Suddenly it was playing on every radio station, and for no discernible reason.

And there was the night I went over to S's house to visit. S was telling me how much she missed her grandmother, but how she felt very comforted because she perceived her grandmother's presence all around her. She knew her grandmother was watching over her.

Eventually the conversation turned to S's uncle's wife, who apparently went into grandmother's house and helped herself to some of grandmother's jewelry without asking anyone in the family. S was visibly incensed.

"If my grandmother knew about it, she'd be rolling in her grave."

Then the lights in our room suddenly flickered. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.

S turned to me and laughed, "Well, I guess my Grandma knows and she's not having any of it!"

And the lights flickered again. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.

Again, at the exact moment. How on earth could this be?

Nothing happened with the lights in the other rooms, as we could clearly see, just the lights in the room we were sitting in.

I had goosebumps. To this day, I can't explain any of it. People I've told this story to have suggested it was an older home and there were some issues with the wiring. Nope. Their house was only 2 years old and here's the real kicker - S's husband is actually a journeyman electrician. There was nobody else home except me, S, and S's infant baby sound asleep upstairs.

Eventually, after about 2 months of getting sign after sign after sign, S told her grandmother out loud - "Grandma, I hear you. I've seen all the signs, and they were just like what you told me you were going to send, and so I know you're ok. Thank you. It's ok for you to move on now. I love you and you'll always be in my heart."

Then the signs stopped.

Will we recognize ourselves in the hot mess female protagonist of 'Girls' ?

Nodding my head in agreement to Julianne Escobedo Shepherd's feminist piece Why I'm Deeply Skeptical of HBO's Super-Hyped Show 'Girls.' I, too, am having trouble digesting the idea of yet another show that's putatively about to blow up and may likely become a significant part of the cultural zeitgeist, but which features an all phenotypically white lead cast. Yet again. (See also "Friends," "Seinfeld," "Sex in the City"...) Tonight the show finally premieres, so we shall see... In the meantime, I think Escobedo Shepherd is right on about why, sight unseen, it's giving her pause:

"I appreciate the fact that when a TV show like “Girls” or movie like Bridesmaids is released, it can feel like a revelation. We’re so used to seeing ourselves portrayed in basic, often degrading ways, that when a developed, woman-written female character emerges, it feels like we’re able to come up for air. Lena Dunham is certainly admirable for her willingness to exhibit her non-model-esque body on film, a very welcome counterpoint to the unrelenting deluge of unrealistic body standards we are expected to aspire to. But it also seems like we might be so desperate for images of ourselves that are even mildly realistic, we give certain films and shows a pass in other arenas..."

"I often worry if some depictions aren’t just replacing the Mary-Eve dichotomy with an “Overachiever”- “Slacker” one. Bridesmaids was a good example of this: Hailed as a counterpoint to the man-saturated Apatow buddy oeuvre, it pitted a seemingly picture-perfect antagonist against an emotionally stunted hot mess of a protagonist and wrapped it up neatly at the end. Based on the trailers and preview clips for “Girls,” Dunham’s character reprises the concept of the hot-mess protagonist. It just seems like we deserve more than this."

"I also realize that, from a credible critical standpoint, it is not a good look to predetermine how one feels about a work of art without having experienced it first. But I can determine what I’m afraid “Girls” will be."

"Most of all, I’m afraid that “Girls” will be a “Sex and the City” redux, racially speaking: that its portrayal of New York City, the most ethnically diverse metropolis in the nation, will reduce its vast swathes of residents of color to background noise, to bit parts, to token roles in the lives of its privileged white main characters. The trailers depict as much, but for a token voice of wisdom in the form of a gynecologist, and I fear that this show will be another in a string that minimizes its own whiteness by touting its "liberalness." In her New York Magazine rave, Emily Nussbaum calls “Girls” “FUBU: for us by us,” and yet I’m worried that a lot of “us” aren’t going to recognize ourselves in this so-hailed feminist milestone of a show."

Firing the Client

I never blog about work. Sure, I'll blog about what's ailing my vagina, my marital problems and solutions, all manner of inane things, but never my work. I guess I'm just not that into talking about it. This may also stem from the fact that, in general, I don't like to spend more emotional/mental time on work than is ever absolutely necessary. My blog is my fun, personal time - separate from work. That's how I like it. I also value my privacy and don't wish to ever be outed IRL (not that that would ever happen), hence few specifics about my jobbity job jobs.

But I will say this about my work. The good (and sometimes really bad) news is I'm my own boss. I have the luxury of picking and choosing the people with whom I do business. Today I fired a client who has been a pain in my ass for the last 6 months.

It felt goooooood.

Firing a client is not something I've ever done before. I had this epiphany at 3am this morning: I honestly never want to see or hear from this client again. There is no amount of money this person could pay me that would make me want to interact with them ever. I know that saying, "everyone has a price." Not in this case. Not for me. Honestly. No. Fucking. Way.

What did this client do to piss me off and make me realize I'm done with them, you ask?

Long story short: after a shitstorm, the client told me I was supposed to have known they wanted me to tell them A Certain Thing orally as opposed to me telling them A Certain Thing via letter and email. Therefore my failure to tell them orally is their reason (excuse) they failed to complete Big Task they had committed to completing.

Or in other words, the client would like to blame me for their own failure to complete Big Task.

Um, no client, I deal in the written word. It's called CYA.

So I told them orally, and by letter, and by email that I'm letting them go. I feel better already.

Ever break up with a client? How did it go down?

Hummus Lurve

I am a hummus snob.

The best hummus I have ever had was back in 1995 at a restaurant called The Olive Mountain, in Evanston, Illinois. I hope to return someday. It was totally amazing.

Ever since then, I have tried to find a decent substitute. I've even tried making my own. Utter Fail.

I've lived in 5 different U.S. states and in one foreign country, and let me tell you, I have tried every hummus available in every supermarket available. They're mostly gross, they're not creamy enough, and they have no acidity. Restaurant hummus is usually much, much better (duh) but seeing as I live in Podunkville, I never have access to restaurant hummus.

So let's just say that out of necessity, I'm something of a self-styled expert in Store-Bought Hummus.

I recently tried Sabra brand hummus, and their Roasted Garlic variety totally rocked. (The other Sabra varieties were just ok for me, but were still miles above most other store brands.) Sabra Roasted Garlic Hummus is not quite Olive Mountain level goodness, but it is creamy and delicious, and my kids absolutely love it to pieces, and I have to fight them for the last scoops. Try it!

Sabra should totally pay me for recommending them, but that's not how I roll.

What are you snacking on?

Otomi Wall Mural

I'm loving this Otomi textiles-inspired wall mural in turquoise, blogged about HERE. If a little magical elf came and did this to my kid's room, I'd have to marry it. The elf, not the room.

The Woman in Black

I finished reading Susan Hill's "The Woman in Black" today at about 4:15 am. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight either. Or ever again for that matter.

I definitely need to change my pants.

It got me, it got me good.

The movie (starring Daniel Radcliffe) hits U.S. theaters this week. I don't think I can watch it.

I'm dying to know (puns rule) what the long-running London play was like, as in how on earth they managed to prevent the audience from tearing out of the theatre, screaming.

For those of you with excess intestinal fortitude, I'd recommend reading it. For the other 99% of people, not so much. I love me some scary stories, but this book was just too much, even for me. Consider yourselves warned, scary moviegoers!

My Xmas Decor Is Still Up

Happy New Year! Now subtract 10 days from today. My life right now is stuck there. I'm behind on everything that doesn't involve work or skiing. Today - 10 days = About Where I Actually Am.

Yep, it's ski season in Podunkville. It is kind of the time sink equivalent of us having another half of a child. In a good way. DS attends ski school every weekend and he loves it. We think this is directly correlated to the service of hot chocolate at ski school. DD will try out the rope tow with us in about a month when we can get and start using her pass for next season when she'll be 3. We all got cute new/handed down ski outfits this year. Yay us.

A local friend's 3-year-old son actually just broke his leg skiing. For some reason I can't explain, I actually used to think small kids were somehow immune to ski injuries like that.

In other news, DH's work had a holiday party after the holidays (great idea, that), but sadly it was at the home of a mean coworker of his, aka Bill Clinton/Don Draper. BC/DD is now dating a 22-year-old employee, who greeted us at the door and showed us all around the house that BC/DD's ex-wife decorated. Even though we'd been there many times before, during the period when she was in high school a few years ago. It was a total Twin Peaks experience. DH and I decided we'd feel like failures if our kids turned out like BC/DD in any way, shape, or form.

This is kind of a scattered post, I know. I promise something more substantive in about T + 15.

How did everyone survive the holidays? Talk to me.

On Hiatus

This will be my last blog post of 2012. I'll try not to disappoint. But I warn you I'm kind of not in a great head space. Lately I haven't really been feeling the blogging bug; I'm going to chalk that up to how much I kind of don't like this time of year. Thank you, shitty-ish childhood Xmas memories of my parents fighting. They should have gone to counseling like us. Bah humbug. Sometimes it is hard to get over childhood pain. I should be thankful I suppose that mine is relatively minor, yet it still casts a pallor over this season for me.

Our holiday cards are all in the mail. We've started getting a few, too. The husband's name has appeared first in about 90% of them. Sigh... (Inside I'm screaming go read your ETIQUETTE!)

I recently had a stomach bug and lost a little bit of weight due to some gross GI tract issues. The result? I officially lost count of all of the "You look so great!" comments I've been getting this week. Sad commentary on the society we live in, eh? Where sickly whittled down = better looking in the eyes of many.

We're off to my parents' house 2 time zones away for a long winter break starting later this week. I seriously can't wait. I love how we get to pretty much stop being a mom and dad when we visit there - once we walk in the door the kids suddenly start to look to my parents for every need. That right there is the best Xmas present ever.

In other news, some members of my Pretty Good book club have decided to have a discussion about changing the way we choose books. The current book selection method is as follows: each of the 12 members is asked to host one monthly meeting anywhere they like, and choose the month's book, and reserve copies for the rest of the group at the local library. The problem giving rise to the need for the "discussion" is that 2 of the members have been waiting until the last minute to choose a book from the long library list - leaving us with some truly horrid book choices. Instead of talking to the offenders directly, it looks like we are all going to choose as a group the books we'll read each year - there will be no individual choices anymore. Hmm. I guess that will help raise the overall quality. Yet there have been a handful of times when the assigned book an individual selected was a little more esoteric, or funky, or a classic, or great stuff that book clubs don't typically read. I fear we're going to lose that, and we'll migrate into Traditional Book Club fare. And I reeeally don't want to read "A Thousand Splendid Suns." No offense.

In merrier news, my kids are awesome. DD met Santa the other day and told him to fuck off. "No Santa, Don't Hold Me! Go Away, Santa!" Awesome. Her brother, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of the big red man. While on his lap, DS took the opportunity to question Santa about how he is able to fit all of the toys for all of the world's children in his small sleigh. Santa was stumped. He muttered something about his elves working overtime and making multiple trips, and carrying a lot of toys in his bag, too. At this rate, my guess is we'll have a believer for about 1 more Christmas season, tops.

Have a great rest of the year, all! What's happening at your house these days?

20 Albums Meme

I'm answering @Anandi's call for a list of the top 20 albums that have influenced my life. I purposely stayed away from "Greatest Hits" albums, because I wanted more of a challenge. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Doolittle - The Pixies. Back in the day, I included songs from this wonderful little album on pretty much every mixtape I ever made. There was a time in my life where, if you were a boy, knowledge of this band was a prerequisite for talking to me. Incidentally, I had the opportunity to see them in concert the week before I got married. Amazing.

2. The Beatles (a.k.a. The White Album) - The Beatles. Man, I totally grew up on this record. See, my parents are very musically literate and did not abide "children's music." This was their version of the music they thought children ought to be experiencing at all times. None of that Disco Duck crap, thank you.

3. Pet Sounds - The Beach Boys. Another one of my classic childhood albums that was always playing in the background. Yes, I realize its release actually pre-dated my childhood by several years. No matter.

4. Thriller - Michael Jackson. Though I believe in my heart of hearts that he was a ped, and that perhaps we should all be thanking a certain tranquilizing-prescribing MD instead of imprisoning him, I can't deny how much this album once meant to me. I can still do every step of the Thriller dance upon request (which is never).

5. London Calling - The Clash. Every damn song is good.

6. Rumours - Fleetwood Mac. Reminds me of every road trip I've ever taken. I love Stevie.

7. The Joshua Tree - U2. Hands down the best U2 album, and they've put out so many good ones.

8. Led Zeppelin II - Led Zeppelin. It was also hard to pick just one Led Zep album.

9. Let It Bleed - The Rolling Stones. Again, they've put out so many great albums, but this is a standout for me because it includes my favorite song of theirs "You Can't Always Get What You Want." True dat.

10. Dark Side of the Moon - Pink Floyd. I've never tried playing this album along with the movie "The Wizard of Oz" on mute - but they are supposed to be in sync. Someday when my kids are old enough to appreciate it, we'll have to try that.

11. The Doors - The Doors. "Crystal Ship" is probably my fave, in addition to all the songs of theirs everyone and their mom has heard a million times. And by the way, Val Kilmer made a fantastic movie version of Jim Morrison, IMHO. He wore the same black leather pants for the entire shoot. I bet that smelled lovely.

12. Appetite for Destruction - Guns n' Roses. Despite being released in the 80s, and all that perhaps implies, his album has aged so well. They never got lame.

13. Remain in Light - Talking Heads. I can't get enough of T.H. So many excellent songs.

14. Nevermind - Nirvana. Came out when I was in high school. Instant love affair with their sound. How I never got sick of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is totally beyond me.

15. Parallel Lines - Blondie. I want to be Debbie Harry when I grow up, but I'm too tall, too brunette, and can't sing. Keep hope alive though.

16. Substance - New Order. My DH totally hates "that synthy poppy crap" but I cannot get enough. This album will always be cool to play at parties.

17. Tapestry - Carole King. My favorite 70s singer-songwriter. Her version of the Shirelles '61 hit "Will You Love Me Tomorrow?" is so beautiful.

18. Sam's Town - The Killers. The most recent album (2006) on my list. Guess that means I don't think very much memorable music is being put out today. Yes, I'm looking at you Ke$ha.

19. The Chronic - Dr. Dre. Instant classic. I loved Snoop Dogg's contributions to this album, too.

20. Pretty Hate Machine - Nine Inch Nails. TR made this album pretty much singlehandedly in a studio where he once worked as a janitor, if I'm not mistaken. He's gone on to do some good work on movie soundtracks.

Assorted Updates for My Long-time Readers

This post just might read like a series of very random thoughts. I want to share some updates about some of the people and issues I've posted about in recent and not so recent months.

Remember my son's play-dough obsession at Montessori? I met with DS's teacher. It was my first parent-teacher-student conference, which is kind of a funny thing to call it considering DS just turned 4. What a great meeting. I walked away feeling so impressed with the program there, and so proud of the person my son is and is becoming. When I originally posted, my dear commenters were unanimously adamant that there is nothing "wrong" with a 4-year-old having a healthy obsession with play dough. Turns out the teacher agreed with all of you completely! He wanted to meet with me to let me know that this is what DS had been choosing to spend his time on at school, but soon moved on to other "works" and showed me what he's been drawn to. He assured me this is all well and good and as it should be, and he wanted to get from me a sense of what DS's passions are (that question is a real stumper, actually. DS is kind of a learning omnivore. He's as passionate about jigsaw puzzles as he is about the song "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele. Good luck finding an overarching theme there.)

I remain so impressed that the teacher cares so much, and keeps the class small despite a long wait list so that he can devote a lot of attention to the needs of each kid. He shared with me the story of his own daughter's experience at a different local Montessori where there was no communication at all with parents about their children's experiences there everyday. Turned out, his daughter spent an entire year coloring at Montessori, and no one there even noticed. Ultimately he felt this failed to prepare her for K, and in his own school he has vowed to keep notes on the kids and keep parents in the loop by having mandatory conferences periodically, and by sharing videos and photos of what's going on in class. I don't know that this high-level of communication is typical for "Montessori" schools, but we are absolutely loving it. And DS got rave reviews - he really is a sweet, caring kid who is a "calming influence" on some of the older, wilder girls and boys. Man, they are so different at school than they are at home!

Remember when our sitter suddenly needed to take time off because her daughter cried a lot about having to go to Kindergarten? Her daughter is enjoying school now. And apparently eating the 'good enough' lunch already. Sitter's back to working for us as regularly scheduled, so my work is no longer suffering, thank you baby jeebus! The recent debacle prompted a long term plans discussion, and it looks like we can count on Sitter being with us until at least March 1, so the search is on for her replacement. Appreciated the ample notice, Sitter. I also have secured a spot for DD at Montessori next fall, so really the only potential child care gap will be March 1-mid June. Once summer hits, we can easily find a college student.

The couple that moved to Podunkville recently with the wife who makes shitty comparisons? No, we're definitely not going to be BFF's. Not at all. Though I've been trying to be gracious. Like inviting them to trick-or-treat with us. Hanging out every few weeks is about all I can stomach. My kids apparently agree. Her DD, same age as mine, has a hitting issue that my kids can't stand. And her son is turning out to be a bit of a problem child at school, but is an angel at home so that is throwing them for a loop it seems. Trying hard not to have any Schadenfreude-ish moments nor place any unfair labels on what I'm seeing. la la la! I've tried introducing her to nice people, including my sweet friend C, but it turns out perhaps not shockingly C isn't much of a fan of hers either. I'm glad I'm not actively being mean about it. Except behind her back on the internets, of course, of course... Thanks, I had to get that off my chest!

Continuing on in the "shitty female acquaintances you just can't seem to shake department," my ex-friend, M, the lying liar who lies to get out of paying her share of a hotel bill has been successfully demoted to casual acquaintance. I'll see her in groups every couple of months, otherwise I'm remaining Perpetually Busy. She sent me these odd texts recently about getting together for coffee or a walk, then wishing me a good trip when I wasn't going on one, and now I really think there is a dementia diagnosis in her future, unfortunately. Perhaps she really did "forget" she agreed to a hotel stay on her trip. At this point though, it certainly no longer matters. Sad.

And in ancient history (not really) update news - anyone remember local yokels Bill Clinton and his now-ex-wife Skeletor? Those are some not very nice names I gave them, I know. Do they deserve them though? Hells yes. I mention them now because Bill Clinton is the first real life person I've ever known to actually personify that old-fashioned, Don Draper-ish stereotype of the middle-aged divorced guy who suddenly starts dating his much younger secretary. Can you say "Walking Stereotype?" The new girlfriend is a 22-year-old subordinate who DH says is not too bright. Bill Clinton's oldest child is 10-years-old. You do the math, people! Skeletor has also moved on, and she too is dating a 20-something dimwit who reportedly dyed their daughter's hair jet black and gave it a severe crop, taking her from Marcia Brady to Coraline. How the mighty have fallen. Two short years ago, they were in the running for America's Preppiest Family. Oh, and the kids recently contracted lice, too. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that the old them would not have been having any of that. And Daddy who has primary custody hasn't been following the treatment protocol, so everyone in my Shitty Book Club is really mad at him right now. It's a real shitshow. One of those cases that makes you question that almost-always valid presumption that it's better to divorce and get the kids far away from the parents' toxicity. I guess in some rare cases like this, sometimes each of the parents go on to find themselves in a whole new set of toxicities. Gah.

End update rant.

Little Lessons

A few little lessons I've learned recently--

People like to be asked & they like to be thanked.

Despite its name, the garbage disposal is not the place to dispose of garbage.

I have been using way too much laundry & dishwasher detergent for my appliances.

Wearing a proper-fitting bra causes people to ask me if I've lost weight. I haven't.

There is this dessert called "Crack Pie" because it is supposedly as addictive as crack cocaine. It is.

Children still play Bloody Mary, and Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board at slumber parties!

On a related note, I have an old Ouija board in my upstairs closet that I suddenly feel an urge to part with...

We recently got upgraded to business class on a flight, and soon I realized what that old yarn means: "The luxury, once sampled, becomes necessity."

It is hard to find cute, non-clunky, affordable shoes for boys. That's why DS has several of the same pairs in multiple sizes & colors. And also why I love thrift stores.

It saves so much time to mix baby formula in a pitcher, then pour it into bottles. I'm a failed breast feeder, and I'm making peace with that.

DS just attended his first Easter egg hunt today. I didn't know that these days, most kids hunt for plastic eggs with goodies inside them. I brought real ones, hard-boiled & dyed with simple vinegar and food coloring. I swear I wasn't trying to be Martha fucking Stewart. Kids fought over them. Who knew? Must be their novelty.

Your comments, your tips, and/or your own life lessons are welcome!