A Tale of two Mondays

Remember I said how rejuvenated I felt from my weekend away? That feeling actually lasted into my Monday. I got up early enough so that my departure was almost leisurely. I took the time to make coffee this morning (thereby negating my need to stop at Tim Hortons and adding 5 minutes to my transit time -  but eliminating one more chance to roll up the rim).   OK, the traffic on Main Street still angered me at the junction of Fillmore/Amherst (it's a bottleneck there and they cannot seem to fix it), but, because I had built in some "goosh" into my commute I was (relatively) calm.

I got to work in time to prepare for an 8:30 conference call. The call should have taken 20 minutes but lasted 3 times that amount. Normally, I'd be spitting nails, but today I was not stressed. I gave sage advice (lol - at least I think it was sage) and did a thoughtful write up of the issue. All day long I was making decisions at a pace that was not crazed, and I didn't lose my cool. Not once. There were even electricians running all over the building changing out all the fixtures. One of them was on a ladder right behind ( and I mean RIGHT behind) my desk chair as I conversed on the phone and made notes on the computer. So, when I say I was serene, you know I'm not kidding.

Plus, I told other people who were clearly stressed that a couple of days off might do them so good. (Now wasn't that helpful?) I'm sure they were so happy to hear that from me. Me, whose nose was clearly burned and whom they hadn't seen in the office since Wednesday. Nice.

I also had a meeting after work where I'm also the secretary. I drank a Sam Adams while recording all the minutes and even stayed after the meeting to jaw with my fellow board members.

All in all, a peaceful yet productive day.

Let's contrast this with Bill's day.

As I pushed the door open this morning (I literally had one foot out the door), I heard Bill call my name. Now, remember how I told you about Bill's penchant for cutting departure times as close as possible? Well, today he had to take the train to Albany. To be honest, it wasn't that he cut the departure time from the house close, rather he got the departure time from the train station wrong. So, at 7:45 a.m. he realized that the train had already left the station and he was still unshaven and in his underwear. He was counting on the 5hour plus train ride to do some reading for an upcoming trial. Now he was faced with driving himself at breakneck speed to Albany and forgoing the reading. He'd have to work late this week to catch up. AND, he had to drive to Albany and back in one day.  (The good news was that he was in the middle of a book-on-tape that he was dying to finish so that entertained him on the ride.)

Despite this madness he tells me that he "killed" in Albany. In Billspeak that means he did a good job in court.  

To top it all off, he made it home about 5 minutes after me and produced a beautiful grilled salmon dinner while I wrote this blog. It was delicious.

So let's recap:

For Liz:  Rejuvenation + Leisurely start = Productive Day

For Bill: Last minute change to timetable + Insane drive on the 90 = Productive Day

Works for me and apparently works for Bill.

Weekend away

Those of you who are also my LinkedIn pals, may also know that I went to Florida this weekend. I signed up for TripIt ( an app that allows you to track your flight/car rental/hotel etc. in one handy dandy place)  a couple of years ago and somewhere along the line, I linked it to LinkedIn. Apparently, anytime I take a trip, it appears magically on my profile and ANNOUNCES my itinerary. My friend, Jen (full time mother and part time private investigator/paleontologist/genius marketer/top chef) alerted me to this fact on the day we were leaving. I quickly edited my profile on LinkedIn. Phew! Crisis averted (hopefully).

He was at least 12 feet long and amorous

So, just in case no one saw that alert, I purposely didn't blog that we were away and what we were doing.  I didn't want to tempt those intruders that might find my empty house an enticement.

Luckily, Bill had to speak at a conference in Ft. Lauderdale, FLORIDA and I got to play the role of the spouse. We had a superb time. For one thing it was WARM and we saw the SUN!! For another it was held at a really nice hotel that was on the beach and  that  also had  various pools. Waiters would come around and ask if you wanted a drink at the pool. That, to me, is the height of decadence. "I'm so lazy I cannot get off my sorry butt to get over to the bar which is less than 50 feet away. Yes, I need another vodka - and make it a double this time". Anyway, I was the one that got to laze by the pool in the morning (I carried my own drinks). Bill attended all the lectures in the morning and the conference allowed for free time in the afternoon. One of the activities that was planned by the conference people was a trip to the Everglades and a nature preserve. We took an airboat once we arrived at the Sawgrass Recreation Area. And we met a gigantic alligator who was trolling for a mate. We were very close and he was a little scary. I'd been to the Everglades a few years ago with my mum and dad and Will (when he was about 10). We went much further south - to the National Park -  to a place called Flamingo. That was a great trip. I thought about my dad while we were zipping through the sawgrass this weekend. He had arranged that trip for Will, mum and me. He wasn't feeling great then, and it took some effort for him to do the trip. It meant a lot to us. Even then we knew that it was one of those trips where memories were being made. So, reminiscing about my dad this weekend was bittersweet.

Everlades National Park circa 2002

After the airboat we boarded a bus and drove to a bird sanctuary and nature preserve. It was glorious. We saw hundreds of birds that were being cared for - hawks and storks and herons and spoonbills and raptors and owls and pelicans and a few peacocks and peahens wandering the premises. And, of course FLAMINGOS . Many birds were injured and were being nursed back to health. Our naturalist/guide (from NYC, of course) clearly loved his job and was very knowledgeable and kind to those of us who asked a lot of questions. Bill and I were the last ones on the bus.

We only had a couple of hours this morning in the sun before we had to leave for the airport. I was able to talk Bill into a walk on the beach and dip in the jacuzzi.

I think he's smiling. Right? No? Ah, the sun was in his eyes!

Weekends are supposed to be rejuvenating.  I feel younger already.

Laugh Lines

I remember skipping a week of school when I was at Trent University. It was 1981, and it was the annual film festival. The theme was animation, and there were films all over Peterborough and the campus.  One of the films that really stood out for me was a film about a Danish animator named Kaj Pindal called Laugh Lines

The film wasn't especially clever or insightful. What stood out for me was Kaj's face. He had spent his life making cartoons, and his face, in old age, had developed lines from smiling and his laughter. He did some of the voice over from the movie, and you could tell he was a real kidder. It wasn't as if he hadn't suffered - he had some horrendous times in his youth. But, he had overcome adversity and chose to live a happy life. You may know one of his most famous work:  I knew an old lady who swallowed a fly . I think he worked for the National Film Board of Canada which paid people to actually do this kind of thing - make short films. Canada is different that way.

A caricature of Kaj Pindal

Anyway, his face - or at least the characterization of it, has stayed with me. I was only 20 years old but I remember thinking that if I lived to be old, I would want my face to develop the way his had.

When I'm in a situation where I have time to kill, and I'm in a crowd of people, I happily spend the time studying other people's faces. I'm always drawn to children first. But, if there are no kids, I look at really old people and try to figure out who they are. I cannot help but compare them to Kaj. I've seen a lot of sour faces - and I have to assume their faces stuck that way because of how they spent their lives.

One of the many reasons I married Bill is because he is really funny. He makes me laugh a lot and he can jolly me out of a bad mood. (He can put me in a bad mood just as easily - but, he's awfully good at making me snap out of it, too). Anyway, at 50 years old  I have many lines on my face. But, I think those lines are already telling the story of how much laughter I have had the fortune to have in my life.

La la la la la la

I developed a really bad habit shortly after I married Bill. It's the ability to tune out conversations with which I am not involved.

Bill works all the time. When we were first married his primary means of communication with his clients was the telephone. He was one of the first people I knew who owned a portable/cellular phone. It came in its own suitcase. It was so big that it counted as a "carry on". He powered it from the car battery. He had a big case that took place in Connecticut. He would fly in and out of La Guardia and drive to Milford once a week for months. It was early in our marriage, and I thought that was what marriage to a lawyer was about. As soon as he got in the car, he would call me to say he was on his way and safe. But, the calls were very, very brief. Air time was REALLY expensive.

When he was home, he was often on the phone at night. He even installed a phone in the bathroom. He was THAT dedicated. I know that's more commonplace now, but back then it was still a little weird. I still remember that phone. We had redone the bathroom in blue and white ( I remember trying to make it look like a room in the Greek islands). It was actually the contractor who suggested the phone line - he'd just finished re-doing the kitchen and had Bill totally figured out.  I found a blue and white phone, and I was so tickled that it worked so well with the design. Bill was just glad that he could reach it from both the shower AND the toilet.

Anyway, my point is, I learned to tune out his conversations really well. Partly because I thought I shouldn't listen in, partly because I was usually busy trying to do something else and didn't like the distraction and partly because he annoyed me. He's a loud talker and enunciates really well.

The truly horrible fallout from this is that  I also started doing it with the kids (OK  - only Will).  When Will was little he was a big talker. He could talk nonstop about Lego construction and video game destruction and dinosaurs or whatever else was going on in his brain in minute detail. I perfected my 'tune out' with Will by also adding the occasional "really?" or "is that right?" or "that's cool" in what I thought were appropriate spots. Will caught on eventually (OK, pretty quickly). I KNOW there are other mothers out there who practice the same thing. Sometimes when we get into the car with our kids in the backseat it's just natural to zone out. It's almost like a "home free" zone where you don't have to pay attention to anything but the road ahead.

OK, the reason I'm writing this tonight is because I had the misfortune of sitting on a bus for 40 minutes in front of a woman who  (1) had an ANNOYING completely IRRITATING voice;  (2) was a horrible braggart; and  (3) was LOUD. For the life of me I could NOT tune her out. I couldn't figure out why my tried and true methods didn't work. Luckily, I had earphones and my iPhone and I tuned in Jazz 91.1 from Toronto.

While I listened to Oscar Peterson I tried to figure out why I couldn't tune out this horrid women. A few things occurred to me:  Bill doesn't talk on the phone as much any more. He EMAILS, he TEXTS, he works later at work and tries not to bring work home with him (OK, he does bring work home but our house is bigger than the one we inhabited when we were first married, and I go to another part of the house).
When Will calls me from school, I HANG on every word. I miss him and want to know everything and try to figure out what's happening with him  -even from his silences. I have earphones - a crutch!

I have completely lost the power to figuratively plug my ears and say "LALALALALALA" .

Half the fun is getting there...

When Bill and I travel together we ALWAYS have a disagreement. It's ALWAYS the SAME disagreement. He wants to leave the house with little time to spare to catch the flight, and  I like to obey the rules of the airline: arrive 1 hour ahead of time for domestic flights and 2 hours ahead of time for international (sometimes more if we're in a non-western country). P.S. - take the poll to the right.

Bill has spent enough time waiting at the gate that he figures he can shave off 10-20 minutes from our departure time. He believes he knows the peaks and valleys of the lines at the TSA security lines (in all airports). I, on the other hand, have seen too many times when the lines were out the door, and my heart was in my mouth.

I have tried to figure out ways to "compromise". One way, a somewhat dangerous and stupid way, is to try to make up the 10-20 minutes he has shaved off our departure time by speeding on the highway to the airport. I always drive to and from the airport. Bill gave in to me a long time ago on that. He knows I need that level of control  The last time I did this, we got a flat tire on the entrance to the I-75. Coincidence? I think not. It was only by the grace of God that our flight was delayed. Score ONE for Bill.

Another way I have chosen is to deliberately lie about the departure time. Bill and the kids have already figured this one out. It did work for a while but, the kids caught on quickly. Being the sweethearts that they are, they allowed me to continue the charade. They like to be in cahoots (yes, that's a real word) with me. They also tend to side with me regarding this issue.

Once we get to the airport and make it to the gate, I end up feeling guilty if we have to lounge in the lounge. Bill will pace up and down the terminal on his phone. I have learned to give him his ticket as soon as we leave the ticket counter, because if they call our seats to board and he is not there, we  board anyway - with or without him.. Once at the airport, HE IS ON HIS OWN. I have no mercy. More than once he's been the last man on the plane to board. I equate this to his absolute need to close down a party. He does not want to miss anything -even if it's happening in an airport terminal.

Unlike the proper loading of the dishwasher, I do not believe that we will ever sort out this disagreement. I will just have to figure out more clever ways to trick him, or he will eventually miss a flight.

Twelve Step Program

The first step in taking back control of your life is admitting you have an addiction. The recent crazed antics of Charlie Sheen have made me do a little self-examination, too. While I am not addicted to alcohol or drugs, I do have an addiction to word games: the NY Times Crosswords on Sundays and Scrabble and Words with Friends on my iPhone. Hey! At least my children are not at risk and I haven't threatened to cut off Bill's head and send it to him in a box.

The iPhone allows me to satisfy my cravings so easily. Not only can I play Words with Friends with friends, but also with complete strangers!  All you have to do is press the screen and a game will automatically be created with someone halfway across the world. Brings new meaning to the old AT&T phrase "reach out and touch someone". 

I use my iPhone as my alarm in the morning. When it goes off, I check my Words with Friends to see if any of my global competitors took a turn between midnight and 7 a.m. That action, reaching for the phone as soon as I wake up, reminds me of my dad, a HORRIBLE cigarette smoker, who would light one up as he got out of bed.

Hint #1 - if it's the first thing you reach for in the morning, you may have an addiction.

Hint #2 - When Bill sees me with my iPhone up to my face, he asks "Scrabble"? Nine times out of ten I will lie and tell him I'm checking email.  I don't want to appear as if I'm not productive 100% of my life. Lying to cover up an addiction is a bad sign.

Hint #3 - If I don't complete the NY Times Crossword on Sunday I save the magazine, keeping it in a special place.  Having a stash makes me feel better - that sounds bad, too, doesn't it?

So let's recap:  I have a new set of friends that I haven't introduced to my family, I have an uncontrollable desire to play as soon as I wake, I'm lying about it and I have secret stashes.

 I have a problem.

I think this blog may be the first step of my twelve step program. Luckily, I can count on the support of my husband.

The witness is instructed to answer the question

Bill is skyping with Emma right now on the computer on which I usually write my blog. He's helping her study for her exam. He read the text book (she ordered him a copy from Amazon and had it delivered last week) so he could study with her. I've been listening with half a brain... it sounds like Secured Transactions but in Canadian (she's studying at the University of Toronto). There are a few differences in business law between Canada and the United States. That's kind of an understatement. People assume that things in Canada and the US are pretty much the same. WRONG.  The differences are PLENTY! Starting with the way Canada is governed. But, I  am not going to blather on about that tonight.

First, I want to share with you the fact that I am writing this from Will's study. He left it fairly intact. Happily, for me he also left his big Apple desktop with a very nice keyboard. I like using it during the daylight - his study has 3 sides of windows and it's a really pleasant room -  but not at night. Because.... he also left this very creepy 'installation' which I thought  was going to accompany him when he went away to school.  I have moved it deliberately into a corner so that I don't see it when I walk past his room. I'm ashamed to say it scares me. He garbage picked it on Tillinghast last year.  Yes, it's a suit of armor - minus the helmet.

 

Will's best pal, Tommy gave him a very scary mask one year which fit nicely atop the shoulders. This addition is the part that scares me. So, imagine me sitting here writing my happy little blog with this thing standing guard. I'm a little unnerved.

What I wanted to talk about was the differences between how Canadians and Americans speak. I'm not talking about the obvious "ehs" and "abOOTs"  but rather how our sentences are constructed.


It makes Bill CRAZY.


I will often ask a question this way:

"Did you not see the garbage pails at the end of the driveway?"  You can hear the sarcasm, right? The sentence really means : "Why didn't you bring the damn pails up the driveway when you got home you lazy pig?"

Bill says that it is impossible to answer this question.  There are really just two possible responses:
1. Yes, I did not see the garbage pails; or
2  No, I did not see the garbage pails

Two differing responses that equate to the same answer. How do you answer YES, I did see the garbage pails but chose to ignore them? You cannot unless you deconstruct the sentence  and redo it.

My point is that Canadians are clever that way.  It's really a rhetorical question - one which isn't expecting a reply.

Which brings me to my point:  Bill has been living with me (and my mum -in the summer -w ho also uses this type of sentence) for so long that he, too,  has picked up this sentence construction habit. And he (mistakenly) used it in a deposition. Upon reading the transcript he realized his mistake and the fact that the answer could be interpreted in a way that was not advantageous to his client. He had to make sure that he reintroduced it at trial, in America-speak, to get the correct response.

So, he's the perfect combination to teach Canadian law to an American/Canadian student. He understands the rhetoric.

PS - I won a do(ugh)nut at Tim Hortons yesterday!