Diary of My Last Day--For the Memories

Got into work 20 minutes late due to last minute stuffing of the car with the last of the stuff from my daughter's place. My tiny car now looks like I may be living in it.

7:00 Clean out the last drawer at work and go through the last of the professional documents on the remaining shelves above my desk. I have already filled a large green recycle dumpster with files no longer needed. So much of what we do at work is busywork.
7:45 Go through some historic materials and sort certain files for boxing and mailing to remote staff.
8:10 A few farewells from staff who stop by the desk and one surprise hug. I send out a thank-you to that 'Team' who gave me a nice lunch the day before.
8:30 Exit interview with the person who oversees all the divisions including ours. I was calm but honest. Bottom line is that resource depletion, a few dysfunctional personalities and a few hard-workers who spend time looking over their shoulder are interfering with the peace. He actually said he would implement some of my ideas because they were good. He has several idiots under his domain and knew exactly what I was talking about.
9:30 Take exit form around for signing and find that since I had parts of it pre-signed yesterday (by appropriate staff), it made the person who starts the form today look like she wasn't doing her job (??) 15 minutes of small talk and reassuring her and I finally get the signed form back to walk around!
10:00 Get a lovely figurine from our secretary and a rose. Unfortunately the figurine got broken in the transport, and while easily repairable, she is devastated. She will miss me the most as I have been the one she leans on when stressed, and she gets stressed a lot.
10:30 Get an orchid corsage from the other division head who insists this signifies the start of the party. She is the one everyone hates as she micromanages the hell out of things and never listens to you. Today she has gone out of her way to be considerate...who knew? The orchid is missing the plastic tube for attaching and we jury rig with some brown book tape someone had in a drawer. (Is all this an omen?)
10:45 Write a lengthy memo outlining the history of a project that never got off the ground and for which monies had been allocated and then disappeared. While I didn't point fingers I made clear where the problems were. Also find some last minute digital outreach files for colleagues who are in a panic about loosing them.
11:15 Hubby has come to the building and is meeting with an old friend and then we head out together for a quick lunch.
11:45 Heading out to load the over-crammed car with yet one more box! Now I have only a tiny place to sit as hubby will be driving.
12:15 Going over the last of the email folders and files on my PC to make sure I didn't miss anything.
12:45 Labeling the last of the packages that need to be routed to other offices and washing down the bare shelves and desktop...yes I am anal.
1:30 The Party Starts. I am surprised that both of my children can make it. I also see a few colleagues from remote areas of the program that I haven't seen in a while. I didn't expect them because the flyer about my retirement was posted just the day before. Over thirty people show up (including two that I am sure I do not know!) and the table is spread for a king. (They love me, they really love me ;-))
1:00 Lots of very nice speechifying with just a little roasting. Several paper certificates and gift cards.
1:30 My brief farewell speech. At the first I almost loose it and then tell myself I refuse to cry and I hold it together. I actually stupidly hadn't planned anything to say...so am doing a stream of consciousness thing.
1:40 More gifts, lots of photos. I am beginning to feel like some movie star as even people I hate have to have a picture taken with me!
3:30 It is finally all over. Such a rush-around morning followed by a very emotional afternoon. Send out my final thank you email to all. Hubby and I gather the gifts and once again cram the car with more stuff. Farewell to the children.
3:40 Head down to my new house for the very last time from this office. Very much a stunned thought time. You know it is coming...but like having a baby you can't really get your mind around it until it happens.

Such a milestone. And definitely worth a thoughtful blog entry once all has been digested.

You're Gone Before You're Gone

This past week I have had two colleagues come drooling over my cubicle (one of the best locations and sizes on the floor) asking who was going to get it when I am gone--like I know or care! I have had another colleague ask if I minded if my PC was moved to somewhere else next week after I am retired...again I feel DITTO.

And finally, just this morning, another colleague asked if I had Adobe PhotoShop on my PC and since I was leaving his 'helper' needed a copy and could he put in a ticket to have it removed from my PC and transferred to hers?

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out." This does sound a little more heartless than it actually is...but not by much.

I am so OUTTA here.

I was less than a month from the big retirement date ( this past April 4) when the former 'Team' that I worked with sent me an email that we needed to get together for the transition to exchange ideas and a little 'farewell." This is so totally spastic as far as I am concerned, because the last time I was included in a meeting with this 'Team,' was March 22, 2007! Other than the routine outreach mailing I have not met, seen or traveled with any of them and have no idea what their initiatives, projects and needs are. I do know that they meet almost weekly. Quite frankly, I have learned to enjoy work-life without them. Other than the few snide emails I exchange with others with whom they have burned bridges, I have gotten over the insulting ignoring process. Now I have to sit through a 2-HOUR transition meeting tomorrow and a farewell lunch next week. My tongue will be bleeding!

Maybe I will bring the huge half-inch thick folder of web files and pass it across the table and say "Any questions?"

Six-Word Memoir

Accepting this Meme challenge from Colleen to write a six word memoir:

I have a few for a quick blog entry on this busy weekend. (I am in the process of moving into my house on a permanent basis over the next two weekends and this means going through more clothes than a 'non-material' girl should have. In other words, being retired means I have no excuse for all the material I have hanging in my closet!)

1. Living one day at a time
2. Forever looking for my inner peace
3. Life was too short for me
4. I needed one more beach walk!

Stream of Consciousness Tabor

March 28:

I was in a dark nightclub in a scuzy part of town (rereading this sounds like a Guy Noir skit). We took a cab because daughter and I were too scared to leave a car ANYWHERE IN THE AREA. Nightclub was filled with twenty and thirty-somethings. A very few were "over-medicated." Even though I was one with the beat once the band started, I kept thinking the little flecks of light on the floor and lower backs of people from the turning mirrored balls above was a toddler moving between the adults. Sort of a grandma reaction that took a while to shake. My daughter said the crowd was 'alternative' due to the facial hair and just a few with tattoos. The bouncer wore spiked wrist guards and looked so totally bored. He had that expression on his face that a parent has when he has just put the child in a time-out for the fifth time in an evening. Music was great even though the sound system was mediocre. My son introduced me to a chatty Kathy that was a total fan of the band. Said she was a "band-aid." Seemed to be totally jazzed about meeting my son's mom and sis. Please God, do not make this the final girlfriend!

Left the club after midnight and took a cab back to the car which we found had been towed! They towed it an hour before the meter expired, but have not been able to get justice on this to this day! The extra $100 fine did put a damper on the evening.

March 29:

A whiplash Saturday morning for this old head. Up early with toddler getting ready for a trip to a museum with another toddler friend to have an early celebration of grandson's third birthday. It was far more scary than the night before watching toddlers run beneath displays and climb upon metal chairs and benches. Then back for gift opening and homemade chocolate birthday cake which daughter and I had decorated with a PERFECT Lightning McQueen frosting graphic, if I do say so myself.

March 30:

Sunday was a second birthday celebration with the arrival of the other set of grandparents. While I would have loved to lie around in bed or watch cartoons with grandson, I escaped to the mall to give the grandparents one-on-one time and to give me some sanity time.

March 30, March 31, and April 1:

Took daughter and I three evenings to watch the movie "Rendition" which we had rented while both hubbys were on travel. ("The story of an Egyptian, married to an American, picked up on the suspicion of links to terrorist organizations and shipped to a friendly (with US) Arab country for "enhanced interrogation.") We could only get blocks of 45 minutes free time before we both were ready to fall asleep. The Egyptian is kidnapped just after arrival in the U.S. from a business trip and the wife spends the rest of the movie in a panic trying to determine where he is.

April 2:

Hubby is arriving - finally - from Korea in the early evening. I get ready to meet him with a call the airport to confirm his flight arrival time. They tell me the arrival time is 30 minutes earlier than I had scheduled, so I tell daughter and rush to the airport. The flight has arrived by the time I get there and for some reason my cell phone is not working. I go ahead and park and head to baggage claim. Many of the passengers have gotten their bags and are leaving. I scan the crowd, but no hubby. I wait until just a few stragglers are left collecting their luggage. I go to the United desk and try to get information. The lady behind the desk is vague and suggests I just go home and wait for his call. (This Rendition movie is beginning to nag at my brain.) I decide to wait for the final flight from Korea which comes in a little later. So, I ask her if by any chance he is on that one. NOPE! I cannot get into my voicemail on my cell...geeze. I head to daughter's house.

I reach there at 9:30 and ask daughter to check her email on her blackberry since I do not have a computer at her house. She doesn't have any messages. She cannot get into my email with her little machine--probably javascripting block.

10:00 PM we get a call from Hubby who was caught in the major FAA/United cancellation of flights--guess I should have been watching the news instead of a movie. He and three others worked the desks at Pusan like a team and were able to get out of Korea that same evening. There were only 8 from his flight who made it out of Korea that night...he is pretty enterprising! The only problem is that he is now in New York and he lost one bag! He has a morning flight home scheduled.

April 3:

I get Hubby without incident and we rush down to the house to pack. We are heading for a week's vacation in Sarasota, Florida. Why the rush? We have to meet daughter and family at the Tampa airport in just two days and we are driving down---with more baby and toddler junk than is found at a Babies "R' Us sale in the two backseats along with two newly installed carseats. We work hard to squeeze in our two small suitcases and a few beach chairs while leaving room for two adults to sit in the back.

April 4-11:


A blur of beaches, aquariums and DisneyWorld. Forgetting the long lines at DisneyWorld, the expense of gas and the strange leg rash Hubby got from wading through seagrasses, methinks everyone should have this much fun in their old age.

April 14:

WE MAKE IT BACK HOME! Had a wonderful time and hope I can get my head in gear before heading back to work on Wednesday.

Tech No No's

Tammy at The Daily Warrior recently blogged about cell phones and how frustrating it is to adjust to the cultural changes they are bringing about---such as talking to people who are not talking to you but talking to their Bluetooth..

I find that, for the most part, cell phones are valuable. When I ‘lose’ a family member in the mall, they save me time. When I am trying to meet up with friends or family at a specific time, they come in handy. A cell phone is necessary sometimes when meeting someone at the airport after flight delays, and they are so valuable for emergencies when you are not near your land line.

As a devotee of new technologies I am willing to work on that necessary learning curve. BUT, yesterday, I was in agreement with Tammy.

I had recently seen my son on Friday night after a long hiatus and when I got a text message on Sunday morning, I knew it was him since he is the only person who text messages me and I have never text messaged back. This time I was up for it. It went as follows (names and locations changed to protect everyone):

The Text message I received: “Whazup? Son son”

Me: “Goin shopin, Smith’s coming later, daughter mulchin call if you want”

“WTF did u just write” (When did he get so rude with his mother?)

My diplomatic response, “Call me”

“When”

“Anytime”

“okey dokey imam call u when I get back in “State”

Once I reached the mall I decided to check this text message dialogue to see why my son was out of the state and what was going on. As you have astutely already guessed, I had just received my first wrongly sent text message. (Thank goodness it wasn’t a drug deal.)

So, if you are ‘son son’--- watch your text language please and make sure your dialing finger is accurate.

Remember when you had hormones?

I have added a NEW link beneath My Other Blogs link in the side column, to one of my favorite new bands. It is loud and raw and sexy and reminds me of my youth---(Yeah, Tabor, you wish).

If you are over 40 you should probably have a drink before listening to this band to mellow out and forget all that adult nonsense you do during the day that pays all those adult bills. I am related to a person who writes much of the music and lyrics...needless to say, any person Tabor would be related to is HOT! OOOUCH!!

I shamelessly promote this information to any talent scouts that you know. Everyone needs at least one rock star in the family.

An Email Smile

Just got this email from hubby in Korea:

"I must say one thing I am going to have to go on a diet this next two weeks and do exercise as the trips are just one big eating orgy. There are big lunches and dinners, you remember our Taiwan experience where we hoped we could take a break from eating for three days or so because of the constant large meals. The Koreans always seem to have about four surges of food in addition to all the little side dishes they bring out. The food has really been good but they always want me to try new things so I overeat. My clothes still fit OK but I know I am heavier. "

The Punch List

I have been living (at least on weekends) in my new house for almost 18 months now. As with any new house, there is always what the builder calls a punch list that is reviewed when the house is 99% done. The punch list is a list of items that the builder or the owner identify as corrections to mistakes or things that need to be finished but were overlooked. They usually get done prior to the final payment or within a month after the final payment.

Since my husband and I are relatively easy going and have made our final payments, there are still a few things that need to be done. I am not worried because the builder's subcontractor is free-lancing by finishing our basement. He has said he will get to these items and he is a reasonably nice guy, so I trust him. I also find that my karma gets really crappy if I turn into one of those bitchy homeowners that feel it is necessary to get in the contractors face every time I see him, when I see that he IS doing work. As a side comment we are actually having the basement finished based on a handshake, an estimate that is not in writing and by writing checks every now and then when asked. I do not recommend that homeowners do this in real life, but it seems to be working for us.

ANYWAY, one of the items on my punch list is that foyer light above. The larger light in the foreground was hung quite high with the builder's brother telling me that was necessary to allow a decorative view from outside the front door when it was on at night. There was a spot light over that window that fell on that small landing below---this landing is found in many new homes and is a totally useless feature added by architects for you to place totally useless decorative crap that you could not reach to dust without endangering yourself.

This foyer light in the foreground was found after much searching in several light stores and catalogs for something large enough in size and with a style that fit with my "pseudo-Tuscan" approach. The light was found hanging in a corner of one of the larger light fixture stores covered in dust. Naturally the builder hung it with all the dust still intact! When I explained to the builder that the foyer light was so damn high even my husband could not reach it to clean it or replace bulbs with his two story ladder and that it needed to be lowered, this led to me purchasing a similar light (from a totally different company) that hung directly in front of the window where the ceiling spot was. (WE RARELY USE THIS SECOND LIGHT!)

Now I continue to see my foyer light dusty and with one burned-out bulb hanging at the same height as if in some vacant house. I wait patiently for them to lower it at least two feet. They keep saying they will get to it. I will keep those blogreaders who are on the edge of their seat about this challenge posted.

Just Rewards!

Thursday Thoughts #10--Lies - Black and White

1. Do you tell your husband that you threw out the year-old toaster with the broken plastic knobs and bought a brand new one that cost three times as much, or do you just hope he doesn't notice when he gets back from his travels? (In my self defense the old/new toaster buttons could only be turned with a fish hook remover thingy which no longer opens regardless of my extensive efforts and use of four letter words.)
   
   
2. Do you tell your daughter that her foolish husband was throwing Xman up into the air and then came so close to missing catching him that the kid almost landed head first on the sidewalk and one came away crying and one came away almost crying? (Heart attack city my friends.)
   
   
3. Should you feel guilty for blowing off the last two hours after your doctor's appointment when you should have been driving back to work instead of home? (Who am I kidding?)
   
   
4. Is it a lie when you tell your doctor that you drink a glass of wine in the evening when it is usually closer to 2 or 3 glasses?
   
   
5. Are you being foolish when you fail to tell your son-in-law that you have second degree burns on the palm of your hand from that DAMN frying pan while you continue to pretend you can get dinner on the table, juggle the baby and sooth Xman like clockwork? (Second degree burns and now waiting for blisters.)
   
   
6. Are you really unprofessional in leaving the room to rush to a "meeting" as you ignore a 50-year-old "colleague" who still giggles incessantly and says awesome every 15 minutes.
   
   
7. When someone tells you that you look way too young to retire...is it dishonest to pretend you are surprised at their surprise?
   
   
8. I don't have anymore...guess I am not as dishonest as I thought.
   
   

Little House Life Story #13

Living on a remote island in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean requires depending on your resourcefulness almost all the time. The stores in Micronesia were very similar to the old-fashioned one-stop store in "Little House on the Prairie." You could buy almost everything in one of these stores, but there wasn't much of anything at any one time.

There were a few canned goods, a few types of hardware, a little fresh produce. One had to be very resourceful to identify what was useful. You could never predict what you might find in the store. But, interestingly enough, due to the proximity to Asia and India there were bolts and bolts of summer fabric: fabric of all types, colors and weaves. Fabric did not spoil or damage easily on the long boat ride to Guam and the trans-shipment to Palau. There was always a selection of colorful bolts to peruse. If you could sew, you could fill your days with making things.

In one of my recent blogs I mentioned how I made clothes for my baby girl out of fabric scraps. Well I pretty much had to sew everything I wanted out of these tropical patterns. The photo above shows a cover that I made for my bamboo furniture in our little apartment when the original fabric wore out. I am sure that I found this quite the interior design solution.

If you keep reading, you will notice that the fabrics in the photo below are the same as the one on my baby girls outfit. This is a photo of the bedroom. Yes, the bedroom! I must have loved the pattern. I am sure that I thought it was very stylish and a wonderful example of creative interior decorating.

I must have had absolutely no taste after years of living on a remote tropical island. Geeese!!

Three Day Weekend

Hubby is in Korea for a month or so and I am alone (except for noisy and nice contractors finishing the basement) at the house on the weekends. It is VERY odd being able to do anything I want, eat anything I want, watch anything I want for days...a VERY odd feeling.

During this wonderful respite I decided that it was time for another "Lifestory" blog. I was going through old slides and albums for ideas and then came across this photo of my husband and some islanders during one of his many island hopping jaunts when we lived in Micronesia.

I had to scan and post this because the picture tells a story or two if you look closely---no, my hubby is not gay---he is the most unselfconscious, unpretentious person I know and is totally relaxed with his body. Instead, look at the two island boys and imagine what they are thinking and saying. I am sure they had never seen reef shoes. Then look at how the other islander is dressed and also his body language. A thousand words in this photo, right?

The Ongoing Education

Once again Tabor is getting an education in life. I guess it means we are still alive if we can still learn.

I have recently (re) learned the following:

1) When you receive a call from one of those little people that starts with "I go poo poo in potty." you still react with the same manic enthusiasm you did when you had little tykes of your own. Obsession with pee pee and poo poo goes on and on from generation to generation.

2) Potty training means a child may wake up in the middle of the night several times screaming that he needs to go to the potty.

3) Watching a child bounce off the walls due to too much Valentine's Day chocolate and candy is almost as frightening as a Stephen King movie scene.

4) The reason they are called the Terrible Twos is because the child can be really, really, really terrible---behavior that one expects in an insane asylum comes to mind.

5) It is definitely time for mom to feed the toothless one when the toothless one starts grabbing food off of my plate and then commences screaming when I pull the plate away and lick her hands that are full of my mashed sweet potatoes.

6) At day care little girls are little girls---hugging and hanging on to X-man and little boys are little boys--- running around the room casting glances as they try to impress the visiting grandma.

7) Being around small children brings to mind the same question I ask about Presidential candidates...Why would anyone in their right mind volunteer for this!

8) The answer to #7 is that you are in love with the idea, the process and the result.

Happiness is Overrated

The February 11 issue of Newsweek has an article titled "Happiness: Enough Already." The gist of the article is that melancholia "generates 'a turbulence of heart that results in an active questioning of the status quo, a perpetual longing to create new ways of being and seeing." And the authors conclude that this is a good thing. In other words if you are perpetually happy you no longer long for anything and become constipated, boring, and coasting through life. Some of the article is based on a new book coming out - "Rethinking Happiness" by a father and son team --the Dieners.

Since I have not read the book, I cannot comment on it. But I do tend to agree with the Newsweek article on the popularity in our society of medicating anyone who finds themselves depressed. The clinical definition of depression is too easy to fit most of us at many times in our lives. Medicating this feeling away seems to me a false approach to growth and understanding. Yes, there are people who become suicidal and therefore need medical intervention. But too many of us in our wealthy and self-stimulated society are taking pills to avoid normal pain, to pretend that feeling depressed is not natural.

Pain/depression is a lesson. It tells us something is wrong. It tells us we must step back and move in a new direction. It reminds us that we cannot make it alone in this world and we should turn to those who love us for help. It tells us we are alive and when we begin that time of happiness (and it will come) -- great or small -- we will only fully appreciate it if we can contrast it with the sadness. We can also be more emphathetic and understanding of others' sadness when we take time to go through our own periods of the blues.

The cliche that great art results from great sadness seems to be true. Therefore, will our society not produce any great works of art because we are counting out pills from a bottle with each hiccup in our life's path?

I also think that if our society accepted mild depression or sadness as a temporary transition rather than a permanent setback, we would have fewer suicides. If we accepted that folks are going to be gloomy for a little longer than we like, than we would be more tolerant of their struggles. We need a little patience in this solve-it-in-24-hours-so-we-can-get-on-with-our-lives. We need to hold their hands and see if they can turn it around. We need to remind them of the good times or share our good times. We need to be patient. It is a fine line, but if we follow our instincts we will know the difference.

As Lucy would say, that will be 5 cents please.

Contrasts

This special doll belonged to me at one time long ago. I could not leave the room without her crawling speedily behind me almost causing an accident if I stepped back too quickly. Her little green and navy sundress is one of many that I made from scraps of materials I had. Almost all of her clothes were homemade because we lived on an island that had no clothing stores. Most of the native children ran around naked anyway...so she was the most overdressed. Thirty-some years later, HER little girl, on the other hand, has literally three or four very large plastic containers filled with hand-me-downs in pristine condition in all sizes that will last for years to come.

Little Bag of Tricks

Anna at Self-Winding found this link which is such a good fit following my earlier post.

Don't Think Too Far Ahead

I am probably not the most upbeat person to be around. I do love life and I do find each day an adventure, but I am one of those people who is always thinking too far ahead.

For example, when my daughter was a baby, each time I nursed her, I would think sadly about the day I would have to start weaning her. Then when she became a toddler I would get sad thinking about the day that she would head off to school and how I would miss our hours together. Then, as you can probably guess, the years in junior high for both of my children were filled with my thoughts about the empty nest when they would head out to college and their bedrooms would be filled with dusty prom trinkets and forgotten basketball photos.

I really do try hard to live in the moment. I certainly think that is the healthiest way to get the richness out of each day. Having written that though, it seems I am always hardening myself to what I am going to miss when something good comes to an end. I can remember an really odd moment during (probably) desert storm in the 1980s when I saw a handsome and healthy group of sailors at DisneyWorld on leave. They were having a wonderful time. I was sitting at a table with the family eating a hotdog and suddenly tears filled my eyes and my hotdog became a lump of clay in my throat because I thought about what they would soon be facing. I was embarrassed needless to say, and my husband tried to make light of it so that the kids wouldn't misunderstand.

I really try to be an upbeat person...I am sure that is what my family would say...

International Gifts

We have a weekend visitor from Korea. He is in charge of a marine laboratory in Korea and while visiting my husband also will be visiting relatives living nearby. As Asians always do, he brought a lovely gift and presented it with gracious charm. The box itself was first wrapped in a silver-gray scarf with writing that meant something about power (?). When I accepted the gift I was surprised at how heavy it was. It is about 2 feet by 1.5 feet in size. He carried this all the way on his trip! When I accepted the gift I am sure it weighed 15 pounds!! Inside is a very beautiful assortment of Korean sweets. Far more than my husband and I could ever eat. We will share at dinner tonight and I will also share some with my grandson who may enjoy them. Now we have to think of something nice for my husband to take on his trip back next month...

The Sweet Sadness

I am sitting alone in my room watching the first feathery light flakes of a new snow drift onto the gray shingles of the roof outside my window. In the background I can hear the sweet sad horn of Chris Botti playing on the stereo. I had been to a concert of his recently and remembered that I had not listened to his wonderful music in a long while and pulled out the three CDs I own.

Today is one of those days of strange dichotomies. I am lonely and yet savoring it. I am sad for no reason but know that this sadness can only be appreciated because my cup overflows with happiness. I feel the pace of my breath and heart slowing to a rhythmic peace in sync with this silver gray day. This sadness is bittersweet. This melancholy is the one side of the whole that keeps me from flying off into space.

I am savoring 'Empress of China" tea in a cup I had made with my daughter at a pottery place a number of years ago. It is an ugly green and purple and thus fits completely with the strange day.

I know that part of this strange feeling is the nearness of my retirement. I have told the important people at work and therefore solidified this leap. In the spring, I will be retired. No matter what angle I look at this, it is another milestone in my life. It is another major corner turned. It is like a gift that I have been given, but it is like a large beautiful bowl in which I must find beautiful things to place. There is a real danger of filling the bowl with bits of flotsam and jetsam.

This milestone also means that I have definitely moved away from those parts of living that meant so much. There is no innocence, there is no pureness, life is what it is. When the bowl is full there is no more pleasure in finding new things to place there. At the very end, there are only old memories after all. All the fresh new memories will be made by those that follow us.

It is sad, but it is also wonderfully sweet this little bit of life we have been given.