February 26, 2008
Today was one of those days at work. The kind you can never truly anticipate and always find surprising. I don’t care to go in to the details but at least in the short term the amount of stress in my life will increase significantly. My head hurts as a result of all the commotion so I am doing the only responsible thing and opened the good bottle of wine.
It’s funny. Over the past weekend several people asked me, “So, what’s new with you?” A certain excitement and expectancy of amazing tales of unexpected adventures that only a single gal in the city would have hung in the pause waiting for my response. “Um,” I’d stall, “Work is going well. I’ve been keeping busy there.” Honestly, the only truly new and exciting thing I could think of was that I switched my facial cleansing system. (And this is exciting news not to be taken lightly, by the way. I thrilled with the new products and my skin is glowing. But it very well may be just me.)
Anyway. I had this blog entry in my head where I would painfully detail all the “new” happenings in my life, only to illustrate to those who live vicariously through me that my life is not all martinis and mystery men. Or mostly the martinis. But then today happened and I was reminded once again how quickly things can change.
And speaking of changes, as of last night I am going to Atlanta in April and Las Vegas in May. My dearest friend Julie is getting married and I am her maid of honor. This would have been on the “new and exciting” list, and be the most exciting thing on the list. I have been weepy since she asked me because I can’t believe my little girl is getting married. I am so incredibly happy for her and honored to stand up for her.
As for work - well, it will all get done. It always does.
February 19, 2008
On Sunday I was mad. I mean really mad. The kind of mad where I was shaking, teary and even had a passing wave of nausea. I’d try not to think about it, to talk myself out of it even. But I was unsuccessful. And sleeping on it didn’t help.
There was one problem. The person I was mad at was my priest.
Side note: I think the world of my priest, my spiritual father. I respect him and love him and am amazed at how easily he simplifies complex life issues.
But I was pissed.
Because I am also on Parish Council and we had a meeting last night, I emailed him to let him know how I felt and asked if I could please talk to him prior to the council meeting. He agreed, surprised to hear about my anger, and I reluctantly showed up at the designated time.
Relationships are strengthened through conflict resolution. I repeated this like a mantra in preparation for our meeting. There is something risky about admitting to another person that you are upset, especially one you love. That person can decide that putting up with your shit isn’t worth it and walk away. Or they could stay, hear you out, share how they feel and your relationship will prosper as a result.
I was told to go into the church. Normally we meet in his office to talk, so I immediately felt like I was in “big trouble”. He put on the stole he wears during confession and called me to the icon of Christ, instructing me to venerate it after he did. Then we stood next to each other, in front of the breathtaking iconostatis and prayed together.
In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Glory to You, Christ our God, our hope, Glory to You!
Heavenly King, Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, present in all places and filling all things, Treasury of Goodness and Giver of life: come and abide in us. Cleanse us from every stain of sin and save our souls, O Gracious Lord.
Holy God. Holy Mighty. Holy Immortal Have mercy on us.
Holy God. Holy Mighty. Holy Immortal Have mercy on us.
Holy God. Holy Mighty. Holy Immortal Have mercy on us.
Glory to the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit, both now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen
All Holy Trinity, have mercy on us. Lord, forgive our sins. Master, pardon our transgressions. Holy One, visit and heal our infirmities, for the glory of Your name.
Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.
Glory to the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit, both now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen
Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For Yours is the Kingdom and the Power and the Glory of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, both now and forever and to the ages of ages. Amen.
By my soft whispers, I think Fr. John could tell that I was nervous. “Lord have mercy,” he whispered half-smiling as he turned the pages in his prayer book looking for a specific prayer. I elbowed him, half-smiling back. The prayer he was looking for was related to conflicts, anger and forgiveness as best I remember. “A special angry prayer,” I explained to my brother later. After finishing the prayer, we went and sat down on the pew.
Silence. I knew he was waiting for me to start.
I took a deep breath and started in on how I was feeling. He sat listening, interjecting as necessary. At first we were misunderstanding each other’s points, so we went round and round to clarify our positions. Eventually we realized it was a miscommunication, and I was upset prematurely. “You may have overreacted a little, but I don’t fault you for that.” And I knew that was the truth.
“Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “I do forgive you, if you will forgive me. I never meant to hurt you either,” I replied. We stood up and hugged, following the tradition of Forgiveness Vespers.
(Forgiveness Vespers is before Great Lent starts and involves every person in the parish asking each other for forgiveness. One says, “Forgive me my brother/sister,” and the other replies “God forgives, forgive me also.”)
And then it was over. The anger, the frustration, the hurt were all gone.
My sister-in-law pointed out, “Can you imagine if all conflicts were resolved that way? That’s amazing!” And she’s right. Relationships are strengthened through conflict resolution. And it was definitely true in this case.
February 16, 2008
I was talking with my friend Monica this week about my anxieties. I think they have gotten worse since the drive-by, since I find myself anxious about the smallest things. I may have mentioned that before, but I realized this week that I left a tough working situation at the exact same time at the drive-by. Literally the exact same day. So, maybe it is a combination of both those things. Anyway, I think I am going to be okay. I replaced my broken elliptical machine and believe exercise will help manage my anxieties.
I took Wednesday off work to use up carryover PTO days. It was a wonderful day. I slept in, waking in time to make it to my spa appointment. I love the spa. I got a facial, which lasted nearly two hours and included a shoulder, neck and arm massage. So relaxing. Shortly after I got home, my dad arrived in the city to help me remove the aforementioned broken elliptical and replace it. We went to Sports Authority, found one I wanted to purchase, and thankfully it was also on sale and in stock. Despite my dad’s many attempts to coerce the Sport Authority representative to come home with us and help us carry it up the stairs, he declined and we (my dad and I) managed to do it ourselves. It was fun working with my dad to assemble the machine and, quite frankly, I would have been pissed off at step two and postponed assembly to a different day. Together we did it, and I am thrilled to have it.
After dinner we went to the restaurant across the street. As we sat down, my dad pulled out a Valentine’s Day card and gave it to me. “Mom has been sick, you know, so I was walking through the store and saw the Valentine’s Day display, I just wanted to help out . . .” he explained. I think my sister would agree with me - I am not sure about my brother, but I know my sister would - we cherish anything my dad writes. He is a kind man; sincere, loving and full of integrity, but also one of few words. I remember my sister-in-law being surprised when she first joined the family to hear my dad say “good-bye” at the end of an hour-long phone conversation, not realizing he had been silently listening the entire time.
It was a really sweet card; one that said nice things about how I turned out. But even more meaningful to me, his hand-written note inside was an acceptance of my faith. A faith that was confusing at best to him, when he was first presented with it. But a faith he has grown to appreciate, with questions of course, after years of exposure.
My brother converted to Orthodoxy shortly before my grandfather passed away. At that time, my father was confused and concerned about this unknown faith. My grandfather, his father, asked my dad, “Is Troy still a Christian?” and I don’t think my father knew at that time how to respond. My brother told me this on the drive back to Chicago from Upper Michigan, while my grandfather was still in a coma. “What if he dies, not knowing? Not knowing that I am?” Troy exclaimed. Just over two hours later, he did and we turned around the car. At that time, I did not understand what Troy’s faith was, or that in a few more years I would call it my own. I just knew he was different than the brother I knew previously. He was a better person; a better brother. A big part of that I attribute to his wife, but there was something more. And it made me curious.
For my father to recognize this now gives me peace. To know that he knows.
—-
On the way to work this Escalade pulled out in front of me. In my humble opinion there is no reason to drive an Escalade in the city. No reason. In fact, I dare say it is irresponsible. Yep, I said it. Irresponsible.
February 3, 2008
I would have rather stayed home, not because I am anti-social or didn’t want to spend time with my friends, but because it was a tough week and this weekend just wasn’t long enough to fully recover. However, I promised I would attend the Super Bowl party, so off I went.
It was a fun party; good friends and good food. I decided to leave at the start of the third quarter so I could make it home at a reasonable time and still see the end of the game. It would have been timed perfectly too, if it hadn’t been for the blizzard going on outside unbeknown to us in the basement. Regardless, I decided to leave and the twenty minute trip home turned in to well over an hour. I thought maybe the highways would be cleared, as Chicago is super-great about snowplowing, but I was horribly wrong.
Not going over 20 miles an hour the whole way home, cars (including mine) were slipping all over the road. The Silver Bullet, bless her heart, doesn’t have four-wheel drive but likes to pretend she does. Um. It was a nightmare. I finally got to Fullerton, which was partially plowed. I tried pulling in to my garage and ended up getting my car stuck in the snow. After a little shoveling, I finally was able to pull it in.
I wonder what the commute will be like tomorrow.
Oh, and the worst part! I didn’t get to see “the biggest upset in Super Bowl history.” And I was even rooting for the Giants too.
February 1, 2008
Approximately one foot (or twelve inches, because it sounds better), was dumped on the Chicagoland area last night and through this morning. Maybe it is because I lived in Kansas City, where every possible drop of snow was the BIGGEST SNOW STORM OF THE YEAR, but I never really believe the weather forecast when it is so extreme. So when this was predicted on Wednesday and Thursday, I was skeptical. Well, I was wrong.
Listening to 780 as I got ready, the majority of the morning broadcast was the many, many school closings in the area. Felicia Middlebrooks and Pat Cassidy urged listeners to take public transportation if it was an option, as the highway travel times were well over an hour; up to two or three in some places. The smartest thing I did all day was listen to them.
Side note: When I visited Chesterton last week, Paige let me try on her new The North Face boots she got for Christmas. They were cozy and warm and light so I had to have some. My old boots were leaky and very heavy they hurt my feet when I wore them. They were the best investment I made. I’ve already got my cost per wear down to $7!
So I put on my fancy new boots and planned to trudge the three blocks to the Metra station. In Chicago, the building owner/merchant/management is responsible for shoveling the sidewalk in front of their space. As I walked outside, it appeared the owners/merchants/managers on my block seemed to be sleeping in. The bus was pulling up right in front of me, so I hopped on.
I really like the Metra. It’s luxurious compared to the L, mostly because it doesn’t smell like urine and you can usually get a seat. I arrived to work only a few minutes later than usual but was 45 minutes to an hour before everyone else. Oh, and I should say that I was feeling really strange last night. I told my friend I felt like I had a fever because my head was cloudy so before I went to bed I decided to see if I was right. Oh yeah, I was. And I’m the girl who rarely gets fevers. I am convinced it has something to do with my nasty fall (currently applying “moist heat”), but I can’t find anyone who agrees with me. I don’t think the fever broke until early this afternoon.
When I got to work, I had an email from my boss saying we should work from home. Doh!
Another side note: I have been developing an integrated communications plan for one of my clients with my creative lead partner. This has been a big process where we locked ourselves in the same room for two straight weeks. I look forward to actually sitting at my desk again on Monday. The plan was due to the client yesterday by “early afternoon” and was delivered by “mid afternoon”. Today we had a conference call to present the plan to them, which lasted three full hours plus some.
I am so glad this week is over!
At the end of the call, the client said, “This was very fun to read and really some great work. We really appreciate all your efforts.” Seriously. It doesn’t get better.
So now I am at home, relaxing with my moist heat. (Monica, that one was for you.)
Complete, but yet kinda related, subject change: Dr. Phil tackles the tough issues. Earlier this week he met head-on one of the biggest issues plaguing this nation this year - baggy pants. Apparently there is a “Pull up your pants” coalition, with one goal. You guessed it, to get people to pull up their pants. They have a song! See:
If you stand up straight, bet your pants fall.
Might as well walk around with your pants off.
Pull ‘em up, pull ‘em up, pull ‘em up.
Be a real man. Stand up.
Is that your underwear, man? Pull your pants up.
There are apparently several reasons or concerns why this is a major issue affecting our nation, and Dr. Phil had an impressive panel of experts, including the mayor of Atlanta, Rev. Al Sharpton and the Ying Yang Twins (who are, it is important to note, divided on this issue). All of their reasons are at the very least thought-provoking, but I was surprised that one of the major drawbacks to pants below your butt was not mentioned at all. And this is where it starts to get somewhat related. On the walk home from the Metra this evening, I was slowed down by the boy in front of me. He was in sneakers, having a hard time with the volume of snow on the ground. But then I realized the truth - his pants were barely hanging on his body; just below his butt! And because of this, he didn’t have full use of his legs. Like when you are taking off your pants and try to walk while they are still half on and you fall down. He was trying to hold the legs of his pants like women do skirts in order to give him more control. It didn’t work. Thankfully he had a ride, otherwise it might have taken him all night to get home.
PULL YOUR PANTS UP!
I’m just sayin’, it might help . . .