Just Another Herd Creature

On my drive into work today, CalTrans closed a ramp for repair. Flares were set to alert drivers and several of them rolled out into the driving lane. I drove over one and the smell of cap guns filled my van. I might be a 49 year old woman driving on a California highway, but for a couple of seconds I transformed into a 10 year old kid, playing cops and robbers on a hot summer evening in the Midwest of the 1960’s. The smell of gun powder clung to me as I hunted my enemy.

Heart pounded as I’d round the corner of the garage. I knew he was close; after all it wasn’t that large a backyard. The silver cap gun was stuck in the band of my pants. I needed both hands free to climb up the side of the garage to get to the roof. Could I make it before he saw me? The muggy summer night had sweat pouring off my forehead, burning my eyes. A storm was due in a few hours. My muscles tensed with the exertion of the climb and the anticipation of a certain death if discovered in this vulnerable position. I held my breath. Only a few more seconds and I would have the high ground and he’d be the dead man.

What happened next? The car in front of me braked hard and I had to do the same. Then I was at my exit. The memory, just like the flare/cap gun smell, was gone.

Doesn't the title say it all. Sorry I don't have time to figure out how to put both photos in one post. I'm already late for work.

I love to read, but until recently, I only wrote when I had to. And I haven’t "had to" since approximately 1997 when FAT LIP Readers Theatre ceased activity. With rare exceptions, most of FAT LIPS’ pieces were written by company members, so there was a certain expectation to write, to add your voice to the script. While I took some pleasure from having written, the process itself was terrible.

Over the last few years, this has changed. I find myself thinking about writing while I drive or take a shower. I jot down little notes and email them to myself from work. Just ask stonebender how focused I get when writing. I say "focused", he might use the word "obsessed." I’ve sacrificed much needed sleep to write. I’m not sure why this has changed. Does having an LJ as an outlet for anything I write cause this? I read lots of personal blogs; is blogging contagious?

Most of what I write is family connected. My parents and all of their siblings are dead. Am I feeling the pressure as an "elder" in my family to write these stories down before they are lost, and if they are lost, so what? My family, my stories are not unique – strange sometimes, but not unique. Or, as I enter my 5th decade, do I just want to write to tickle my memory, keep it all alive for myself. This might explain the personal essays, but what about the fiction ideas. I’ve not committed any bytes to disk yet, but I want to. Today I surfed for local writing classes and workshops.

And it’s the process I’m enjoying now. I daydream about having more time to write. If dbubley ever wins that Big Lotto Money or if I ever retire, I know what I want to do. When I grow up I want to be a writer. It’s a little scary to put this idea out in the world or at least this little section of LJ World. I’m not a "magical thinking" person and I don’t think this will jinx anything either. Yet still there’s some fear with posting this and I’m not sure why.

Well, the "why" of it will have to wait for a later introspection. It’s after 3 am and I have to get up at 6:30 am. Okay, maybe it is an obsession.

The sauce is simmering on the stove. It is almost to that "just right" tomato/meat taste and texture. Tomorrow it will be the magic ingredient that sinks into the pasta and floats between the layers of noodles and cheese to make one of my favorite foods - lasagna.

There's history here. Christmas Eve was the day my extended family would gather at our house or my aunt’s to eat, talk, open presents, talk and then eat some more. Lasagna was always served. We’d have ham or turkey, potatoes, veggies, salads and desserts, but the lasagna was the star of the show. Mom made lasagna other times during the year, but there was just something so different about the xmas lasagna. Maybe she splurged a little more and added extra cheese? Maybe she added something extra to the sauce? Maybe it was because, as soon as I was old enough to fish a noodle out of the water, I helped Mom put the layers together. Or maybe my anticipation of this one special family day was the secret “spice.”

Of course I was excited about the presents – first I opened the family presents and then, after only a few hours of sleep, I’d have Santa’s haul to tear into. I played with my cousins and my nieces, but what I really enjoyed was weaving in and out of the adults’ conversations. Sometimes they didn’t notice I was listening; I learned more than one family secret this way. But that’s another series of stories . . . back to the lasagna.

My first xmas in California was also my first xmas away from my family. It was 1981. stonebender was the only person I knew in the area. He spent the holiday with his family, who live about an hour inland. I was invited to join them. I think they were all curious to meet stonebender’s friend who happened to be a girl; he had most emphatically told them I was not his “girlfriend”. I think he didn’t want to either assume too much (I’d only move here the first week of Nov.) or have his family tease him in front of me.

I sat in the living room watching the lights on the tree blink on and off. I met his mom, dad, sisters, brother, aunt, uncle and grandparents. It all made me so homesick. With the 2 hour time difference, I’d just made a call to my family’s celebration. Everyone took turns talking to me. Over and over we’d talk about my 60 degree vs. their 10 degree weather. This was the first of what has become the traditional xmas eve phone call from me, their crazy sister/daughter/cousin/aunt who moved to earthquake country. Tonight I will make my 26th such call.

Back to 1981: Most people don’t think of me as shy, but I have my moments, and this was most definitely one of them. I didn’t know what to talk to these strangers about. stonebender stayed close and tried to deflect most of the weird questions from his grandpa and uncle. Grandpa immediately started hinting about grandkids. I guess he didn’t get the memo re: I am not stonebender’s girlfriend! Everything was strange – from no snow on the ground to the appetizers. Tree and presents do not a xmas make. And speaking of presents, when everyone was passing them out, I was a little surprised when I received two. I knew stonebender had one for me, but what was this 2nd one? Wanting to make me feel welcomed, his parents had bought me something. I felt strange because I’d not brought them anything. I was 24 years old, living in a hotel in Santa Clara until I could find an apartment and I’d never heard of a “hostess gift.” I’ll admit I was confused when I found a silver whistle on a chain, much like the ones referees wear round their neck to get the players attention. They told me it was a whistle I could wear to be safe. I don’t think they actually called it a “rape whistle”, but that’s what stonebender and I called it. I guess they figured if their son finally had a girlfriend and I was going to visit him in scary downtown Oakland, they didn’t want anything to happen to me.

So there I was, feeling very alien, wearing a rape whistle around my neck and now we had to all gather around the table for dinner. I think I bumped one of his siblings to the “kids” table, as they made a space for me at the adult one. His mother started bringing the dishes out. When she set the large pan of lasagna in the middle of the table, tears started to fill the corners of my eyes. It wasn’t my mom’s lasagna (they used breakfast link sausages!) but it was noodles, sauce and cheese; it was familiar. Lasagna was their traditional Holiday meal too. Now it felt like Christmas.

Tomorrow stonebender’s family will come for dinner. Yes, there’ll be appetizers, ham, veggies, salad and dessert, but it will be the lasagna that will sit center table. I’ve only been making the lasagna a few years and it makes me feel like such an adult. Mama’s little noodle fisher has graduated to the big time.

It is very, very quiet here today. My next-door-cube person is on vacation. My immediate boss is on vacation. I think about ½ the department has taken today off. I suppose it’s a combination of a Friday and 10 days before xmas. I’m still feeling pretty weird in this corporate world. I’m still surprised when my key card actually lets me in. Any minute now they’re going to figure out I’m a pretender. I don’t really belong here. It’s also “Casual Friday” and I don’t feel all that casual. Will I ever feel “at home” here?

And it was fun, as usual. We even had 3 children in the 8 to 11 age range - just right for appreciating all the decorations. And Baby Fly and family were here too. I'm too tired to write anymore about it right now. Just to say, I'm exhausted and I had great fun. And serenejournal rocks as party helper extraordinaire!

My first week of a 9-5 regular job has been rough. I miss my old co-workers more than I thought I would. And even more surprising, I actually miss the work I did - or more accurately, I miss a level of expertise, a level of knowledge, a level of competence that I do not have in this new position. I know that will come with time, but while my new classification is a step up, the actual job is not. I know I was way, way under compensated for the old job, but I had a much more direct impact on the program than I will EVER have in this department. I have knowledge in the arts and how that fits into a recreation department. I don't have any special Information Tech knowledge; my contribution is purely in an administrative assistant way.

Everyone has been very nice, but the overall culture is so much more corporate like, I have a cubicle. I can not close my door. It's on the main hallway and I have one co-worker in a cube next to me. We can hear everything each other does. I feel very "Dilbert". The other big difference is the female/male ratio. Old job about 10% male, this job about 65% male. And, while not to stereotype too much, the guy's in the arts were guy's I could have long conversations with. I'm sure there are a few guys in IT that as I get to know, I will feel that way about too. But so far, I have very little in common with my new co-workers, including the woman. And there are so many of them, about 75 new faces and names to put together.

I will give it a few months and see how I feel. It just sort of took me by surprise how much I'm bothered by the “little fish in a big pond” thing. And working 5 days instead of 4 is not going to be an easy conversion either. And HAVING to be at work at 8:30 am and HAVING to stay until 5 pm, even if all my work is done – that is very hard. I know there are millions of folks, who do this every day, but I’ve managed the last 20 years of my work life on a task oriented schedule and this new schedule just seems weird.

Last night serenejournal and I babysat for cassidyrose and ptor's little sweet boy. He ate a little, played a lot, cried a little and slept a little, in general he did his baby thing and we did the required changing, entertaining and feeding. And, of course, it wouldn't be baby sitting if we didn't raid the fridge and find the candy stash. Okay, they said eat what we want and cassidyrose showed us the candy filled plastic pumpkin in the closet, but still we fulfilled that portion of the baby sitting code.

serenejournal totally blissed out on smelling and kissing the baby head. I loved his vocalization as he played and the bubble mouth. Even Harley got a little play in when I tossed him a paper ball to chase down the hallway.

All in all, a successful evening.

It's the official last day at my job of 20 years. Removing some of my stuff last night from my office left me in tears. They are giving me a party at 5 pm tonight. I should just wear a big absorbent bib.

The dining room table is cleared of all the xmas decorations. The couch and one comfy chair are now cleared off too. That's all I need for Thanksgiving tomorrow. serenejournal, someotherguy, sogwife are coming over for dinner. With dbubley and stonebender we will be a party of 6 (or 7 if you count Gilly, da dog). We're having baked chicken thighs, mashed potatoes, cornbread sausage stuffing, green beans, carrots, bread or rolls, salad and spice cake. And stonebender has to have the cranberry jelly in a can or it's not Thanksgiving. And he eats it separate from all other food, so he doesn't "need" a turkey to go with it. And none of us are big on turkey, so I went with chicken. Plus in all the years I'm made turkeys, I think only one turned out good. Most are okay to too dry. I will miss the carcass to make soup with the next day.

I just finished making the stuffing and it's in the fridge. I might prep some of the salad stuff, but then again I might not. I might just noodle on the computer until bed time. I'm betting on the latter.

Happy Giving of Thanks Day for folks who celebrate it.