Cracked

Both jb and I have been self-employed for a number of years now. This means we have to manage our time off (you don't get paid if you don't work), our marketing needs (you don't work if you don't have the work) and our finances (you'd best earn more than you spend).

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A few years ago we set up a Financial and Retirement account with a trustworthy young man who has been great in every way. thanks to him we have a systematic plan for managing our money and we've followed it, mostly.

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Last week a good friend, who happens to be very business savvy and has always given me good advice, cautioned me about the state of the American economy. "It's a recession", he said, "and no one knows how bad it might end up. Hold on to your cash, kj. make sure you have enough of it to last awhile. Don't trust the stock market right now".

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Hmmmm. This got me thinking. I remember my parents talking about scarcity of the Great Depression. And I saw firsthand the effects of Hurricane Katrina when so many people lost everything--everything.

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So that night, at my weekly writing group, with something about "cracks" as the prompt, I wrote my first and probably last poem about financial well-being. Kind of. Please accept this disclaimer that I am cautious but not hysterical, at least not yet. However, I taking little steps to be sure our "savings" are safe.

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I apologize if this is dreary or depressing. You know how serious writers and poets can get sometimes....

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The banks folded, one upon another,
Paper thin accordions piled so high and wide
it took some seeing before I knew
my little stash fund was buried from the bottom up.

I should have known when
A stern faced Brian Williams talked about the first takeover
last Saint Patrick’s day,
Foreboding tucked between fact and fiction.
Concern tucked between dinner and dessert.
Tucked away
And out of luck,

Defaults and deficits:
The birthday balloons of a million little stashes
Falling to the ground with scarcely a bounce.

But that’s not what I thought then,
When I heard the first of it,
Then, even the far away tales of the great depression
Meant nothing until
The crack became so wide
One thing led to another
And whoosh-wash in magic time
My pockets jingled with counterfeit faith.

I cancelled my trips and catalogues,
Collected certain coupons,
Stopped my auto pays.
And organized my closet.

I’m walking into this Midwest bar
At 4 o'clock the Sunday after Easter
and I’m announcing that I’ve torched my house,
Watched it burn to the ground
Just before I packed my suitcase
And headed here,
Worthless and spent
Just so I could savor an ice cold beer
Free of the weight
Of cracked expectations.

The Family Home

I grew up on a dead end lane in a working class city. My father planted rose bushes and giant sunflowers and built a white picket fence in the front yard. My grandfather and godmother lived in the big white house beside ours, and Jeannie and Janice--two sisters just about my age--lived across the street. They had a nice father and a mean step-mother. She made everyone take their shoes off in the kitchen and was very strict about the volume of laughter anywhere in the house. All their living room furniture was covered with plastic and no one was ever allowed in there. And worse of all, she made them share one hula hoop one Christmas. They never complained about it, but I remember their eyes were sad on that Christmas day.

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My life on the lane was safe and easy. On summer days I'd sit on Jeannie and Janice's front steps and we'd play with our dolls, or we'd chalk up a hopscotch game on my grandfather's driveway. Sometimes we'd walk a block to the local field, where a recreation person taught us to play softball and make potholders. I'd come home for lunch and head out again until dinner. My mother never worried about predators or speeding cars.

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These days the family home is empty. When my father died 12 years ago, it took a few seasons before the yard began its decline. My mother still raved about her roses, and I pruned and planted here and there, but it was never the same.

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Last July my mother broke her hip will not return again to the home my father and grandfather built with their own hands almost seventy years ago. When Spring has settled, I will begin to clean it out and arrange the repairs it will need before it can be rented out. I will sort and sift through memories that will always live within me as surely as I breathe. The lane is no longer the lane of my childhood. At the last of it, my mother no longer knew her neighbors and there were no children playing there as I did. And sometimes the cars speed too fast coming and going.

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Still, a few weeks ago, in the old desk that is now in my Mother's room at the Rest Home, I came across this picture of my family home. It reminded me why my childhood seemed so right.

Blogland Friends

It's been two years since I began blogging. Early on, in 2006, I wrote the following:

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I'm starting to wonder about connections and friendships from blogging. It's weird to share, to learn about someone, let alone care about them, without knowing them in some other context, or perhaps never meeting, seeing their face, hearing their voice, knowing where and how they live.

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One of the contributors to Illustration Friday has "disappeared"--she hasn't made an entry in weeks, and I find myself worrying about her, wondering what happened. It feels oddly strange that I'd like to know she's ok.

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For a couple of years I was part of a dog group: we'd meet in the middle of a park every day with our dogs; we'd talk, laugh, catch up, philosophize--all this on a first name basis but not much else. Unusually we didn't know each other's last names,about our work selves, homes, kids, backgrounds etc. But we knew what was happening day to day, as we shared stories about the best shoes for sub zero (ughs), places to take our dogs, the murder of sharon's beloved son, and the rearranging of jonatha's music and career. I remember thinking how lovely it was to have relationships based so fully and solely in the present moment.

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Is blogging the same kind of connection? Can you really come to know someone in this way? How are personal boundaries different, if at all? How can you be who you are and yet be discreet in what you share about yourself?

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These are my thoughts on this fine Thursday night. Any comments?

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Update two years later: The blogs have been very good to me. From across unthinkable miles I have been blessed with a best friend and improbable soul mate; I've made another friend who lives within an hour of me who I can joyfully meet for lunch; I enjoy the comings and goings of several of my "Big Yellow" buddies by reading their posts; I have a local friend who I'm getting to know better from her blog, and despite the miles my days are filled with art and birds and humor and wisdom and, yes, okay, it's true: love.

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I'm not going to name names but I can think of at least a half dozen, maybe a full dozen, people that I really care about. Some I will probably meet face-to-face one of these days. Several I root for and care about in deep important ways. They are my friends. It's not the same as friends down the street but these are folks I "speak" to and "hear" from regularly. They make me laugh, they read my poems, they share information and visions, they offer support when I need it. When I'm down and don't post, they often know something's not quite right. If that's not friendship, I don't know what else to call it.

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I'm interesting in hearing how others view their blog "relationships". I'm willing to bet you are as surprised as I am about how damn meaningful they have become.

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And while I'm on the subject, thanks for being here. And there. Not everyone would understand this, but honest to god, if you needed a hand, I'd be gratefully stretching mine out to you. I hope you remember that, just in case....

Quite a Feat....

Last week jb bought Mr. Ryan a rubber ball and a silly clown. She put both on the living room bookcase awaiting Mr. Ryan's arrival one of these weekends. It wasn't until a couple of days later than we noticed the clown's feet look remarkably like Mr. Ryan's feet in a black and white photograph also on the bookshelf. We're still chuckling every time we walk by this piece of symmetry.

Some People

Some people shop for clothes, or art supplies, or glassware or yard sales. Me: about this time of year I just shop for gardens. The ground isn't ready, but I am.

Six Words

I might change my mind about the six words Red Mojo asked me to choose about myself, but this sentence comes pretty close:

I give up, then I begin.

Happy Easter

Maybe new growth is difficult.

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Maybe the picture is not always clear.

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But when you pause to look around,

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You'll find you are not alone.

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This Easter, I wish you

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the wisdom to recognize

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and appreciate

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the people

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who love

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and surround you.

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And I wish

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that you don't waste a moment

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to love and surround them back.

Thursday 13: Conveniences

Probably it's because I'm back to work in a job where I have to face my pathetic inability to figure out how to get from point A to point B, (and I HAVE to figure out getting from point A to point B not just accurately, but efficiently) but I'm beginning to bond with technology. True, sometimes I mislead myself into believing I can program my VCR (so far, hopeless), but I'm grateful for the the following:

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1. My cell phone: It wasn't so long ago that I scowled at every rude person loudly injecting his/her personal trivia into the public air space, but now: I couldn't live without my cell phone. I rely on it in emergencies, to multi-task when traveling, to call ahead, to return my calls.

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2. My navigation system: Oh Lord! I've had it two weeks and I've convinced myself I have a personal driver in the car with me telling me where and when to turn. "Left turn in .5 miles", it says. And if I screw up, it corrects my mistake and gets me to my destination anyway. This is the best $ 200 I have spent in decades.

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3. My laptop: I've made friends. I write stories. I send and receive notes and letters. Don't ask me to ever live without it.

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4. Google: I now can learn about anything I wish or need to--in a matter of minutes.

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5. My bread machine: Okay, maybe it's not the same as making bread by hand, but it's better than buying bread from a grocery shelf. And it makes piping hot bread on a lovely Sunday morning.

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6. My Toyota RAV: The back opens up and I can lug and transport anything I want: bounty from the local auction, junk on its way to the dump, unlimited shopping bags. Plus, I have all wheel drive--no need to let snow slow me down.

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7. My camera: I am the perfect candidate for a digital camera. I don't know how to operate it, exactly, but with enough chances I usually manage to snap a good picture here and there.

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8. The telephone: I have a relationship or two where the phone is the glue to staying close. Unlimited long distance is my friend.

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9. My calculator: Will I ever add/subtract/multiply/divide by hand again? This is probably not good based on the "use it or lose it" principle, but I'm a whiz at math thanks to my calculator.

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10. My spade: It's not high tech--it doesn't even have moving parts--but this nifty tool has transformed how I garden. I now make borders effortlessly, even circular borders.

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11. jb' s I-phone: Have you seen it? It's incredible. jb hates technology but in a flash she can pull up her calendar, make notes, look up directions, watch U-tube, take pictures, send emails, check the stock market. This is THE invention of 2007, and when you see how easily it scrolls from the slightest roll of your fingers, you might fall in love with the I-phone.

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12. Trader Joes: This unique store specializes in fast, prepared, tasty, and natural foods all wrapped into one. My freezer always has Trader Joes' something in it for the times when I don't feel like fully cooking but want a good meal anyway. I never tire of their products, and I try new ones almost every week.

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13. My moleskine: Here technology can't come close. I use my moleskine to write and draw anything I want any time I want. I happen to have a special moleskine--given to me with little drawings and silliness sprinkled throughout its pages by my best dearest most talented friend.

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What else? Any thing you'd like to add?

News Bulletin

Thoughtless Mean Friend

Forces Wonderful Loving Friend

to Sleep in Scary Room

All By Herself

(AP) Local police have confirmed that a disoriented woman in her pajamas was picked up on Route 9 carrying only a moleskine notebook and a number 005 micron pen. The visiting woman reported that her closest friend had declined her request to sleep in the closest friend's office and banished her to the family porch, where imaginary shadows and sounds prevented her sleep and adversely affected her well-being and mental health for several days. The woman, whose name is being withheld for a wide range of appropriate and inappropriate reasons, declined to press charges. She did however indicate that she planned to forcefully remind her closest friend of this grave injustice for the next 25 years. She was released of her own accord after posting bond for contributing to several traffic accidents caused by the sight of her flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers.

This Desk

This is where I sit to:

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write stories

& poems

pay bills

plan vacations

sing songs

imagine my most successful self

lament a few regrets

have the best late night talks with my best friend

do some volunteer work

organize my too-many papers

BLOG!

watch the sky

plan my schedule

arrange appointments

google anything and everything

clear my head at midnight

hide when I need to

be thankful

&

think big

Transitions

Two days ago I took myself to a garden center as a defiant acknowledgement that Spring is coming. And today I'm releasing the first poem I have written since my, shall we say, "challenging" poetry manuscript conference a month ago. The poem was inspired by several of the naturalist poets at the conference and by one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver. I love anything outdoors--birds, walks, trees, lakes, mountains, oceans, storm clouds, gardens, even plain old dirt--but I can't seem to jumpstart myself into happy appreciation the way so many other people say they can. So this poem is about that.

These buds need light now,
They’ve been bullied by a merciless snow
That stormed in last November
And white washed everything in sight.
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The ground is weary,
Battling for sun,
Anticipation tainted
By a white depressing permanence.
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I could walk along the curved path
And seek out the red berries
As a sign of vibrance
But today I hobble instead of sprint
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And that is no way to take this walk.
It’s harder still to reconcile the hundred foot pine in front of me--
Stripped by some disease my neighbor did not treat--
Framing the landscape of a slumbering sky,
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Jolted by the flapping wingspan of a passer-by hawk,
Carrying a stunned squirming chipmunk in its mouth--
That chipmunk in a fight I’m sure,
It had no chance to win: no chance at all.
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And me? Must I fight too?
Memory wrestles me down.
A white despondency covers even me.
Sometimes instead of chimes and dances
I hear only ice howls and hollow echoes before they hit the ground.
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Those poets who find meaning
In observing the natural life:
That is not me. My comfort comes from underground
where roots are the flowers of the otherworld.
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Time Off and Time Out

Dear VIP,
and everyone else who could use a break:
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Fall into this day
Have it exactly your way
Don’t hesitate to say
You want toast on a tray
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Keep worry at bay
Do what you may
There’s nothing to pay
This is your time to play.
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Most Sincerely,
kj

25 Tid-bits

My brother often sends me tid-bit emails. Here's the latest, which may satisfy a curiosity you didn't know you had......
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1. In the 1400's a Law was set forth in England that a man was allowed to beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb. Hence we have the term:"The Rule Of Thumb".
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2. Many years ago in Scotland , a new game was invented. It was ruled "Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden"....and thus the word "GOLF" entered into the English language.
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3.The first couple to be shown in bed together on prime-time TV were Fred and Wilma Flintstone.
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4. Every day more money is printed for "Monopoly" than forthe U.S . Treasury
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5. Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better.
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6. Coca-Cola was originally green.
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7. It is impossible to lick your elbow.
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8. The State with the highest percentage of people who walk to work: Alaska
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10. The percentage of Africa that is wilderness: 28%
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11. The percentage of North America that is wilderness: 38%
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12. The first novel ever written on a typewriter: "Tom Sawyer".
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13. Each king in a deck of playing cards represents a great king from history: A. Spades - King David, B. Hearts - Charlemagne, C. Clubs -Alexander the Great, and D. Diamonds - Julius Caesar
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14. If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.
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15. Q: Half of all Americans live within 50 miles of what?
A: Their birthplace
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16. Q: Most boat owners name their boats. What is the most popular boat name requested?
A: "Obsession
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17. Q: If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter "A"?
A: One thousand
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18. Q: What do bulletproof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and Laser Printers all have in common?
A. All were invented by women.
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19. Q: OnWhich day are there more collect calls made than any other day of the year?
A: Father's Day
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20. In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes, When you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bed firmer to sleep on. Hence the phrase......... "Goodnight, Sleep Tight."
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21. It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month, which we know today as the honeymoon.
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22. In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts... So in old England , when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them "Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down.." It's where we get the phrase "Mind your P's And Q's"
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23. Many years ago in England , pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim, or handle, of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phrase inspired by this practice.
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24. At least 75% of people who read this will try to lick their elbow!
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25. Please read: you can actuallyread and understandit:I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh?

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RING, RING, RING

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Hello?

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"kj, don't you research this stuff? It's all spam!"

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Whaaat?

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"They're urban myths, kj. The one about golf, and the rule of thumb...all of them...I looked them up....it's ridiculous."

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Oh jeez.

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"Are you going to pull the post, kj?" (accompanied by uncontainable smile)

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Oh jeez.

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"You're so gullible" (another uncontainable smile)

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Oh jeez.

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Disclaimer: The facts as stated herein are not facts.

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Sometimes you just have to bow to the intelligence of a know-it-all best friend, who is correct too damn often.

I'm Changing My Ways

One day my neighborhood bank was bought out by a larger bank. The paintings that hung behind the tellers and in the little offices were replaced with advertising posters, and the little common touches that I so enjoyed disappeared. Since then, the bank that bought my bank was bought by another bank which was then bought by another bank, and so the story goes.

You can look at the insurance industry, your local pharmacy, the flower shops, the Mom and Pop variety store--and see that small and independent is being replaced by big and corporate. More and more I don't think this is good. Perhaps because I'm an entrepreneur myself, I believe in small town principles and locally grown businesses. So much of what I purchase--no matter what it may be--is made and imported from China. I don't think this is good either.

Wal-Mart has been at the epicenter of large versus small. While it's true their prices can't be beat, the displacement of independent businesses, American made products, and down town Main Streets is a fact. I don't think this is good either.

I'm not pointing this out to point fingers. In fact, to quote an economist,"Wal-Mart probably doesn't set out with the purpose of destroying lives and wrecking the American economy. The company is trying, in a bigger way than has ever been tried before, to achieve three contradictory goals: pay its workers enough, make its merchandise affordable to almost everyone, and increase value for stockholders. In doing so, it has been both a wild success and an utter failure. In its ultimate inability to satisfy all three goals simultaneously, Wal-Mart mirrors the economy at large."

The following information dates back five years, but it still illustrates how Wal-Mart deals with trade offs among the interests of workers, customers, and shareholders--and how those trade offs domino off each other:

$23,000,000: Average annual compensation for Wal-Mart CEO, 2000-2003
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$9.68: Average hourly living wage as defined by 22 of the U.S. cities and towns that passed living wage ordinances between 2000 and 2004
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$8.00: Approximate nationwide average hourly wage for Wal-Mart employees .

$6.25: Starting wage for a cashier at the Wal-Mart Super Center in Salina, Kansas, 2003

$12,192: Income earned by a newly hired cashier working 40-hour weeks (more than the 32-hour company-wide average) for a year, with no weekdays off, at the Salina Super Center

$13,994: Minimum annual expenses for bare existence faced by a single cashier with children 4 and 12 who lives in Salina, Kansas

$0.23: Average hourly wage at 15 Chinese factories making clothing, shoes, and handbags to be sold at U.S. Wal-Mart stores, 2001

$420,750: Annual cost to U.S. taxpayers of a single 200-employee Wal-Mart store, because of support required for underpaid workers -- including subsidized school lunches, food stamps, housing credits, tax credits, energy assistance, and health care

45%: Decrease in annual sales of Levi-Strauss clothing from 1996 through the first half of 2003, largely because of competition from less expensive jeans sold at Wal-Mart

6%: Sales increase in the third quarter of 2003, just after Levi-Strauss began supplying jeans to Wal-Mart

60: Number of U.S. clothing factories operated by Levi-Strauss in 1981

2004: The year in which Levi-Strauss planned to close its last two U.S. plants and stop manufacturing jeans, importing them from overseas instead.

Do what you may with this information. Myself--I've decided to make a pledge to support independent artisans and companies and buy handmade, whenever possible, for the rest of the year. I'm looking to Etsy and other resources for the presents I buy and the goods I need.

It's not much, but it's something I can do. And I feel good about it.

Hang In.....

"I think and think for months, for years.

Ninety-nine times the conclusion is false.

The hundredth time I am right."

Albert Einstein

Mr. Ryan

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He's 13 months old and he's starting talking.

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First Word: CRACKER

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Plus:

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Good Girl!

DaDa

Mama

Ooooooh!

Sexy!

Banana

Baby

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I'll be tending elsewhere for a little while. I'll look forward to visiting you all again soon.

It's Official

I returned to work this week. I started a new job this week. I am indeed working this week.

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Title: Psychotherapist

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Location: Community Mental Health Center

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Clients: Teens and Adults

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I'm talking to my friend Mike, explaining that I feel good that I will be counseling poor individuals and families.

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Mike: Language is important, kj. Do you mean low income?

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Me: Yes.

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Mike: You shouldn't say poor. Because many low income people are rich. And other people, like President Bush, are poor.

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Me (often a fast learner, thankfully): You're right, Mike.

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So today I saw four clients and I'm pretty sure this work will offer me both challenge and honor.

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That is actually a gift to myself. I'm tired and pleased......

Patience

Years ago my Mother, at my request, gave me a set of Tarot cards for Christmas. Sometimes I go months and years without using them, and other times I read them regularly--for guidance, for practice, for fun.
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These days I've been turning one card over before I start my day and using it as a kind of meditation. I'm often happy to consider things I don't understand, and my experience with the Tarot has been pretty remarkable. Even when I read for people I don't know, there seems to be information and advice that is often accurate and clearly helpful to them.
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So, with this in mind, yesterday I used an internet site to turn over my one card and this is what it said:
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Be patient. Confusion and disappointment are exaggerated.

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Well! Good advice if you ask me. So good that I'm passing it on......

Plan for the Day

Today is Sunday. I slept until 9:30 because I did not go to bed until 3 am, which I loved.

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My plan for the day is:

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Breakfast: just finished--one blueberry scone, one apple, and one cup of coffee made and readied for me by jb. I read the Sunday Boston Globe quickly, because it was boring.

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Now, another hour at least into jb's tax preparation, currently entering her bank statements into Quicken and organizing all our expenses and deductions (I hate this but I am driven to get it done)

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Noon: Open House at the the local Food Co-op, which will be completed mid spring. We've paid

$ 150 to be members and I hope it's the kind of place I will love to go.

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Shortly thereafter: Real Estate Open House by our friend who is a realtor. We'll stop in because I love real estate and this house is apparently very cool. It is selling for around $ 525,000 in a declining market. This is far more than jb and I paid for our house and above average for where we live.

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1:30 (or so): Visit with my Mom at the Rest Home. We've established Sunday afternoon visits and we'll stay until her bingo games start at 3:30. My Mother loves to play Crazy Eights so that is probably what we will do, until the weather is nicer and then we will coax her into Sunday drives, dinner at our house, etc. I do not enjoy cards or games much at all, so Crazy Eights is an act of love from me to my her. jb is a total good sport about it all.

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Late Afternoon: unknown at this time. I will probably continue jb' s taxes, chat by phone with my best friend (which I could do for hours), and I may work on the story of Alex and Lily.

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Dinner: Shrimp Jambalaya with tossed salad, my own salad dressing, and french bread.

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After dinner: More tax %%$#@, perhaps 15 minutes in the hot tub under the stars, another invigorating chat with # 1 best friend, perhaps a few catch-up calls, study my tarot cards, possibly watch CNN for election outlook and updates--actually--I'm not sure....I could fall asleep on the couch somewhere along the line.

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Tonight: I usually write, blog, putter, and then write, blog, and putter.

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This is a day in the life of kj. It is as calm a day as I've had in months and months, and I am quite grateful for it. It does not include physical exercise or home repairs, both of which await my committed effort.

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I am always interested in how people spend their time. (Wouldn't I love to follow Anon for a day!). So if anyone has an interest in sharing your own day, I for one would love to hear about it.