Ooh baby baby it's a wide world...

... Sorry. I couldn't think of a good title. 

I wrote this blog post yesterday, but I couldn't post it because of internet problems. By this morning, the issue had spread to my landline, my cable and my wireless router (which affects Facebook on cell phones and horror of horrors, iPods), all of which are connected to the same modem, which just sat there, all black and lightless. 

Bleary-eyed (I was still waiting for my coffee to brew) and while my cereal got mushy, I mashed the reset button on the back with a half-chewed pencil. The modem lights flickered, then flickered out. So I called Comcast to have them send me a refresh signal. Didn't work. The automated lady offered to put me through to a real person, who said he couldn't see my computer from his end. He asked me if it was plugged in. Of course it is, I thought. Otherwise no lights would have come on when I hit the reset thingy, right? Made sense to me. I had no idea which plug in the power strip was the modem, so I just started pushing in random plugs, and guess what? 

Yep. Shut up.

So anyway...here is the blog post I was gonna post yesterday. I'll wait for you to finish laughing. 

I have figured it out. I live vicariously through my subjects. Either that, or I'm ADD. 

We won't discount that possibility.

There is a ginormous world out there, and as much as I want to experience it all, I can’t. As much as I want to do it all, I can't. I meet people every day who are passionate about what they do, and they become amazingly good at it. That is why we write and read about them, after all. They study everything they can get their hands on about their one specialty.

I would love to have a fraction of their knowledge and be just a tiny bit good at whatever it is that they do. But frankly, I don’t want to invest that kind of time. Plus, I just find way too many things fascinating to be tied down to one specialty for very long. If I took a six-week course in everything I find interesting, I would never do anything outside a classroom. Besides, in three days I'd be like, "Okay, that was fun. What's next?" 

Take today. I talked to a 29-year-old chef who is clearly rising quickly to the top of his field. Twenty medals in the 13 years or so he’s been with the American Culinary Federation. There aren’t many chefs in his position in this area, I’m told. But every time I tried to talk about him, as a person, he steered the conversation back to food, and the profession. Actually, I don't think he steered it so much as we just kept ending up there. That's the passion talking. I tasted a fruit leather (think fruit rollups without all the sugar) he created just that morning. Just...out of the blue decided to make some berry puree and stick it in the dehydrator to see what it would do. And then there was the brisket he had cooking in this tub thingy that smelled absolutely divine. They won't be ready until Friday, though. All I know is, after 30 minutes of talking to him I was ready to sign up for a cooking class.

Then tonight, I spent two hours watching members of the Aiken Community Playhouse rehearse The Great American Trailer Park. What started off as an interview with a director ended up feeling like I was just hanging out with a group of friends. Or, talking to a group of friends I was welcome in but not necessarily a part of. Yeah, that’s it. Then they invited me to stay and watch. So I did. I remembered drama class in high school, and all the times I get up and sing karaoke in front of strangers. It is all fun and is great for building confidence. This group had so much fun “working” that frankly, I kind of want to go back tomorrow night. I almost wanted a part, too. And I left wanting to join a theater group. But honestly, I don't think I could handle the rehearsal schedule. Four nights a week. All day on Sunday. My hats off to all of them. 

Hmmm….maybe I need to write down all the things that I'm interested in. Sort of a Bucket List of things I want to do or learn before I die. Then I guess I need to get started doing something! 

Ballroom dance

Learn how to adequately decorate a cake

Take a cooking class

Take a writing class

Learn to row

Bike

Run

How to make a latte, or a cappuccino, or an espresso, or some other yummy coffee with whipped cream on top

How to run a business (preferably a coffee one)

Learn how to buy coffee beans, and how to roast them

Go see another country. Perhaps to buy coffee beans

How to invest and grow money

How to make some extra money...without sacrificing time with my kids/friends/family or a somewhat clean house (needed in order to grow money)

Gardening

Planting and tending a vegetable garden

Canning the stuff I grow in the garden….provided any ends up edible

Learn how to take an X-ray

Learn to give a shot (I don’t know why. I hate getting them.)

Learn how to write a book

Write for a home magazine

Sew curtains…and pillow cases…and a dress

The fundamentals of interior design

Learn about architecture

Walk across the country. (I’d be happy to drive, too.)

Coupon like a champ

I will definitely have to add to this list later. These are just off the top of my head. Tomorrow I’ll probably meet someone else cool, and I’ll want to do what they’re doing, too.

How times have changed

So there I was, interviewing a guy for a story when in walks his grown son. The son had to be in his late 40s, at least. If you said 53, I wouldn't be surprised.

My very first initial impression was, cool! (Please don't judge me. I am a child of the '80s.)

His full head of more-salt-than-pepper flowed behind him as he walked with that arena-rock-star swagger adopted strictly to make it move just like that. You remember how these guys walked, right? They threw their hair better than a swimsuit model. I don't remember if he were wearing a Motley Crue T-shirt, although that's how I now have him pictured.

That first impression lasted all of 10 seconds.

My second thought was, "Man, 20 years ago I'd have thought you were the coolest thing ever. Now, it's kinda sad."

I mean, that was 20 years ago. I would have been 18, that look would have been cool, and I would have been dumb enough to think that awesome rock-star good looks were all that really mattered, even if I was jealous their hair was prettier than mine.

It's funny how times and tastes change. The reason our parents hated to see us come home with one of those guys was that even 20 years ago, he probably didn't have a steady job. That would have been evidenced by the fact that he only had the 2-60 air conditioning in his Trans-Am (two windows down at 60 miles per hour). He probably would have lived in his parents' basement, too.

To see a guy like that now you think, wow. I bet you still work in a record store. Or the skating rink. (I've seen more of his kind there.) Is it bad that I was picturing this guy sitting in a Naugahyde recliner in the paneled living room of an old single wide with Kiss and Lita Ford posters all over the walls?

*Sigh* Me and Cathy talk about this on our walks sometimes. I told you we used to walk this very neighborhood when we were 12 and 13, didn't I? We used to look for these guys! We totally overlooked their primered cars with cracked windshields. We could forgive them because they were cute and looked very nice from behind in those Levis. We loved it every time one of them honked at us while we strolled the sidewalks of the highway. They still honk, only now we look at the cars and think "Yeah, right. Not in this life, buddy." Because the kind of guys who impress us now don't have longer hair than we do blowing in the breeze. And they would have more class than to honk anyway.

It's one thing to appreciate classic rock, but dude. You really don't have to dress the part anymore.

Re-entry

Let me see if I can illustrate this.

I have officially been back at work for three days. Reporting is my full time job. (Yay!) I have gotten exactly one story written. Because for two of the last three days, my full time job has been regaining all of the resources I lost access to.

Think about your job. Can you name all the little things you use that are specific to your job and your company? What would happen if they were gone?

I never thought about it, either. But basically:

* I couldn't write in our word processing program and save it into our publishing program, because I was missing the right link. Therefore, I had to email stories to my editor. Doable, but not preferable.
* I couldn't use our email program, either.
* It took until today (Tuesday) to get either  resolved. I started work Friday.
* I couldn't access previous stories to research a subject because I kept hitting the paper's paywall. I used up all my free pages Friday. It took a while to figure out that I had lost my free account when I got laid off, and to figure out how to get it back.
* I still don't have access to voicemail for the extension I am using. 5:30 p.m. is a bad time to realize nobody can leave you a message, as anyone who could fix this had already left for the day.

These are not necessarily bad things. The company does have to protect itself from disgruntled employees...like the recently laid off. But I just had forgotten how long it takes to get everything in place just so a body can do her job when she comes back.

I think...I hope...that I have all the bugs worked out now and I should be able to move full steam ahead. :)

Nevermind! I don't need to go shopping.

I'm actually almost caught up on laundry.

So...I know you're not supposed to air your dirty laundry in public, but I've had a basket of "hand wash onlys" and "dry clean onlys" and other "special care" labels that have been taking up residence in my laundry room for so long it was beginning to get its own junk mail.

I'd forgotten about that perfect "grown up" dress we bought for Catie to wear at Vince and Erin's wedding two years ago. It's hand wash only and...well...I did hand wash and she did wear it several times before it fell into the abyss. I hope it still fits her.

I also completely forget about last year's teal sleeveless blouse that I promise I did adore. I just didn't rescue it before it faded from memory. I'm quite happy to have it back.

I'm ashamed to admit, but I've had another one of these baskets occupying real estate in my bedroom, too. It was filled with fleece jackets and sweaters (so that's where that pretty pink YSL sweater went!). I'm kind of mad at myself. It's really not so hard to do this. It's almost like cleaning toilets. It doesn't take but a few minutes, so why is it so hard to just go ahead and do it? Why must I let it collect lint for six months, until I decide I'm finally sick to death of moving these ugly baskets out of my way?

I guess so I don't have to go shopping! :)

Sayonara...bring on tomorrow

So today was kind of...I don't know how to describe it.

It's rainy, which puts me in a dreary mood anyway. And I walked out of The Mirror for the last time today. Y'all know what an emotional fool I am.

Last week was when it hit me I'm out of a job again. I had a meltdown and did all my freaking out. (It wasn't pretty. Poor Robb. And kids.) I'm over it.

This just felt....I dunno. I hate goodbyes.

It was weird. My co-workers and bosses stood there and said goodbye and good luck as I walked out the door. I felt sad, but I really wished I had the chance to know them better. I think that made me more sad than actually saying goodbye to them. They're good people.

Of course, I've only been there three months. It felt like I should be a little more sad when I drove out of Thomson for the last time. I was a little sad, but I felt better by the time I got to Augusta.

Now I'm just trying to figure out what my new tomorrows will look like. Last time I was out of work I accomplished very little. This time I vow to make much better use of my time and actually do some things. I'll let you know how it goes.

Holy cow

Gotta share this. It's funny how things smack you between the eyes sometimes. Especially since this message has been coming to me for the last few days in a variety of ways.

"This just means God has something better in store for you," a lady told me just today, after asking what I'm going to do after our last paper comes out next week.

I needed to hear it. I had a meltdown yesterday. Some days you just don't want to put on your big girl panties. You just don't want to deal with it. You want someone to come make all the bad stuff go away. I think that's okay once in a while, as long as it doesn't go on for too long.

So anyway, tonight as I was eating dinner, I finished reading The Walk, by Richard Paul Evans. It's a true story. I thought I had problems. This man built a successful advertising company, married his best friend, drove a Lexus and lived in a $2 million home. Then his wife became paralyzed in a horse accident, while she recovered his partner stole his company, his car was repossessed, his wife then died from complications, and his home was repossessed. He decided to walk from Seattle to Key West, and this book is about his journey. Read it.

But he shared this story, and it just smacked me between the eyes. So I thought I'd share it with you. I'll try to abbreviate it. It's a Brazilian folk tale and it's kind of long.

A Master of Wisdom was walking through the countryside with his apprentice when they came to a hovel on a meager piece of farmland.
"Go see if they will share their food," the Master told his apprentice, though they had plenty of food.
The apprentice did as he was told. The farmer, his wife and and their seven children came to the door, their clothes tattered and dirty.
"My Master and I are sojourners and want for food. I've come to see if you have any to share," he said.
The farmer replied, "We have little, but what we have we will share." He gave the apprentice a small piece of cheese and a crust of bread.
The apprentice reluctantly took their offering. He didn't want to take from what little they had.
"Life is difficult, but we get by," the farmer said. "And in spite of our poverty, we do have one great blessing. We have a little cow. She provides us milk and cheese, which we eat  or sell in the marketplace. It is not much but she provides enough for us to live on."
The apprentice took the food back to the Master and told him about their situation.
The Master said, "I am pleased to hear of their generosity, but I am greatly sorrowed by their circumstance. Before we leave this place, I have one more task for you.
Return to the hovel and bring back their cow."
The apprentice did as he was told. When he returned, the Master instructed him, "See yonder cliffs? Take the cow to the highest crest and push her over."
The apprentice was stunned. "But Master..."
"Do as I say."
The apprentice sorrowfully obeyed, and he and the Master went on their way.

The apprentice grew in mercy and wisdom, but always felt a pang of guilt at the thought of the poor farmer's family. One day he decided to apologize for what he had done. When he arrived, he found the hovel gone and a large, fenced villa in its place.
"Oh no," he cried. "The poor family who was here was driven out by my evil deed." Determined to find out what happened to the family, he pounded on the door.
He was greeted by a servant.
"I would like to speak to the master of the house," he said.
A smiling, well-dressed man appeared.
"Pardon me, sir, but could you please tell me what has become of the family who lived here?"
"My family has been on this land for three generations," the wealthy man replied.
The apprentice looked athim quizzically. "Many years ago I walked through this valley, where I met a farmer and his seven children. But they were very poor and lived in a small hovel."
"That was my family," the wealthy man said. "God works in mysterious ways. We had this little cow who provided us with the slimmest of necessities, enough to survive but little more. We suffered but expected no more from life.
Then, one day, our little cow wandered off and fell over a cliff. We knew that we would be ruined without her, so we did everything we could to survive. Only then did we discover that we had greater power and abilities than we possibly imagined and never would have found as long as we relied on that cow. What a great blessing from Heaven to have lost our little cow."

Maybe newspapers are my cow.

Hello....goodbye

I'm not even going to apologize for my absence this time. Trust me. You haven't wanted to hear the thoughts in my head. You would have been patting my knee sympathetically with one hand and dialing the asylum with the other. I can't promise I'm saner now, but the earth is definitely a little less shaky.

A week ago, my boss had to have surgery. He is out on medical leave for the rest of the time we're open. Next week is our last issue. Guess who gets to figure out how to say goodbye for a paper that has served this community for the past nine years?

How do I do that when I've only been there three months?

That's what's been on my mind since about 3 p.m. today, right after I finished Thursday's paper and turned my attention to next Thursday. How many stories do I write? What about the stories we already have? What should run? What should never see the light of day? How much new stuff do we cover? What exactly do we say to close this chapter in the town's history?

I wanted to see how The Mirror said hello. It took me about one minute to find the very first issue. (Somebody was clearly a whole lot more organized than I am.) I read the first article, written by the staff, announcing the new paper, its mission and its goals for serving the community. In true me fashion, I started writing a column. Because I narcissistically believe everyone is dying to know what I have to say, I guess.

Not really. I just think this is one of those occasions that needs a personal touch. I guess I feel like somebody should actually say goodbye. I'm not at all the person to do it. I've been there three months. I'm still being introduced to people who pop in to say hello. I haven't met the mayor. There are streets I haven't seen yet. There are restaurants I haven't eaten at. I can't name all the main thoroughfares. I still don't know where all the bad parts of town are, and which are the really good parts. But since I'm the only writer there...somebody's got to do it. Don't they?

I will meet with the publisher tomorrow. Perhaps he can write something for us. But I don't think he can say goodbye the way I think we should, either. He is based in Louisville and hasn't been publisher very long. I have a vision and I believe I'm right. I just wish I had the relationship with the town to make it mean something.