Starting Out

NOTE: I haven’t written here in a very long time and I’ve missed it. I found this piece as I was looking for something else. Of course … isn’t that how you find everything these days? I go shopping in my own closet all the time, but I digress. I wrote this for a magazine column in 2007 when I had just started my own consulting shop and life was most uncertain. It’s now seven years later and I find it truly interesting to look back and, based on a project I’m working on, I’m thinking that this is a good starting point for upcoming articles because I have to tell you … if what’s happening now continues … I promise … truth is absolutely stranger than fiction and most certainly … funnier (if that’s even a word?)

Life as a Sole Proprietor in these Economic Times

I love your column. I’ve learned a lot from the people who have shared their stories. They feel like friends and indeed, I’ve been surprised to find out that over the years I have actually known a few people who have written a column or two…which has prompted me to think about writing a few words of my own.

So here I am. Like so many people in this excruciating economic business climate I too am an independent business person caught in the quicksand of the self-employment/un-employment struggle. On the outside everything looks fine, I can say to my friends, business is fine, I have my clients and business is going on as usual, but I know that it’s a struggle keeping afloat from month to month. Where I used to be able to go to the grocery store whenever I wanted and buy without looking at the prices on each loaf of bread…life has changed and the $2.10 loaf of whole wheat looks more reasonable than the $3.53 loaf of 12-grain. It’s become a game…a game that should have begun a long time ago for a lot of us…the game that would have kept more dollars in our pockets and perhaps safer from the storm.

But would it? Is that really the issue? I don’t think that the differential in this can of tomato sauce or a particular type of ground beef is really the core of our problem. Buying smarter helps these days, certainly. It will be human brilliance and the ability to think differently that will see us through this trough.

As I’m writing this, I know how fortunate I am to have my clients that bring in enough income to keep me in my home, cover my basics and allow me to pay the utilities and go to the grocery store. My cat has kibble and enough litter to last a very long time. I’m safe in my house and no one will hurt me here. I have my ideas and my friends and the freedom to know that I can live on a lot less than I previously thought I could, which opens up a tremendous number of career opportunities I never before thought possible. And while I will continue to work to grow my start-up business, we can do so much we never really considered before…which is the crux of my discussion.

I have friends who are giving up their high-octane business world lives and going into teaching in the primary and secondary universe because they want to give back and know that’s where the action is…and they’re doing it because they can and want to. The not-for-profit world can’t pay the salaries that business can, but it shouldn’t have to and if we realize that we don’t really need as much personally…well, then…perhaps we may get a second chance at life in a world that needs us too.

I think what I’m trying to say is that as the country looks to re-tool itself for the challenges we face, perhaps we too can regroup in our own small way and if we’re lucky, perhaps find answers to employment in our own backyards that we might not have been looking for. I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m not that naïve. But maybe we haven’t always considered the obvious. Why not look at working for not-for-profits that need help? What about getting teaching degrees and going back to the schools? If we’re all competing with each other for the same commercial jobs…only a few will be employed….we need to broaden the pool, because the number of those swimming will only increase…so we need to consider where to play and who else needs us.

I heard an expression the other day… that we’re turning into a “gig” society… that we all have several “gigs” at once… that we’ll cobble together enough projects to make a full-time job…there are already so many people working two and three jobs to make ends meet… perhaps creativity can make the workload more manageable and hopefully more profitable. New business models will emerge from this time, entrepreneurs will find a way to help make sense of this madness and build new organizations we’ve never dreamed of…and it will come from out of nowhere. It could be any one of us. It could be you. What do you want to do? Why not do it now? What’s stopping you? There’s nowhere to go but up. Start it on the side, who knows, you may be the next great thing!

I’m At A Loss

I’m rarely At a Loss for Words….
Yet after last year’s Thanksgiving it’s been hard to write and I’ll tell you why.

2010 to 2011 has been a bit of an odyssey full of those kinds of times we’re supposed to learn from and grow. So, first I should say that I miss you all. I’m sorry I’ve been away from my blog for so long and I promise I’ll be back more frequently as time goes by. My second point goes something like this:

I’ve been running my own consulting firm for almost 5 years and while I love what I’m doing, I really miss working on bigger teams and the pace of the corporate world. I also miss having someone else make the coffee in the morning. As much as they try my two new rescue cats, George and Gracie, talented though they may be, just haven’t figured out the filter pot thing. But I digress…where was I? Oh yes…job opening awareness.

Well, I just hung up the phone from the first interview phase of “Go back to the Corporate World” and I’m more than certain that it didn’t go well. I answered the interviewer’s questions, but they were impossible to answer succinctly… so of course the interview went overtime. The questions were actually vague and took a bit of time to give a complete answer… so of course, I couldn’t stop talking and I’m sure it wasn’t appreciated. I’m starting to want to write my blog again, and I’ve found out that people are still reading the stories even though I haven’t posted anything new since Fig died a year ago. I just haven’t had the energy to write anything funny. Not a lot seems to strike me as funny at this moment even though I know so much really is funny. I just can’t seem to make a story out of it.

This afternoon I on my way home from running errands when I actually saw a man, clearly homeless, searching through a public garbage can for something to eat. When he found a fast-food soft-drink cup with a straw and a top on it… he opened it and drank the remains. It made me so sad. I wanted to chase him down to give him money for food. There is so much wrong in this world. I found out from a friend who works for the Cincinnati Jewish Federation that the budget that they diligently keep and monitor for “Emergency Food Relief” … used to help families who have nothing… is now empty. I know from my work at the Freestore/Foodbank that cupboards everywhere are bare to empty.

Where does this end? What happens when people have nothing to eat? The students in the Cincinnati Cooks! Program at the Freestore/Foodbank take food from class home for their family’s dinner and we pack back-packs full of non-perishable food for school kids to take home to feed their families over the weekend… but what if you don’t have that to depend on? There are soup kitchens and food pantries but even they are running short.

OK, so I blew a job interview. I have my choice of what I want for dinner. My cats have their choice of what they want for dinner. How low do you have to be to get your drink out of a public garbage can? He didn’t stop anyone and ask for help. It seemed that in his mind he could take care of himself. Self-sufficiency is a powerful force.

My colleagues and I at Cincinnati Cooks! (a jobs-to-work program) are close to introducing a project to support our program by launching a test market to sell flavored vinegars through a major retailer. The plan is designed to help the Cooks! Program become more self sufficient by developing outside revenue streams. But even if we are successful in building our funding to help more individuals …how do we reach all of the disenfranchised?

No matter what, there just doesn’t seem to be a good reason for hunger in this country of excess. People should be able to eat…. especially children. When you figure it out, will you call someone?

Fig and Me

Fig and Me
My Life and Times with a Most Unusual Feline

November 12, 2010
A Note to my faithful readers: This is the first half of a story that was submitted for a Paris Literary Contest where I became a participant. My friend Sarah, who lives in Paris, is my cohort in crime, and I’d been trying to write a story about Fig but couldn’t really find the right outlet…it was either too long or too short… well, you get the drift, and this became a very fun outlet. Very sadly, as you know, Fig died two weeks after I submitted the story to the Shakespeare Bookstore in Paris and it has taken me until now to be able to share this story with you. So here’s the first half of what was to be a much longer story and while I’m not sure that I’ll be able to finish right now I hope you’ll like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it with Fig sitting next to me with an ever watchful eye.
Of course, the end of the story is that Gracie and George are now living here, two rescue cats, with very different personalities. I must confess that I really do think that Fig pays them visits to cheer them on and train them as my favorite pens disappear, toys end up in their water bowls and their favorite seats are on my computer keyboard… and, well, you can guess the rest. Here is a toast to my Figgie, she was an amazing girl and I will always miss her.
Synopsis of Fig and Me

Fig and Me is a story about my life with a very unusual yet extraordinary cat. You might ask, what’s so unusual about a cat? I mean, doesn’t everyone love their pets? The answer, of course, is yes, most do. But Fig is spectacular. She’s wicked smart, answers to her name, comes when I call her, meets me at the back door when I come home and sleeps right next to me every night. To me, she is the sweetest, most loving pet companion I could ever hope for. Now, here comes the catch, she hates everyone in the world except me. She has a few notable exceptions, but I’ll let you read about them.

The story Fig and Me attempts to take the reader on the journey Fig and I have mapped over the past 16 years. I will tell you all about each stage of Fig’s life with marked events as she grows from kitten-hood, to discovering the outdoors while indoors, fess up to the daily routines of our lives or the games people play, my futile attempts to find babysitters for Fig, and finally what our lives are like today as we’ve both aged gracefully and settled down to become journeyman quilters.

Whatever the outcome of this event, I hope that you enjoy reading about the most wonderful, complex and legendary cat in the neighborhood. She is my joy.

Fig and Me

I have a favorite television show that asks famous actors great questions to get a better feel for who they are as a person vs. the characters they play. Questions start out easy such as…“What’s your favorite color?”…normal answers, vibrant purple, cobalt blue, hot pink, in-your-face yellow. Next comes, “What’s your favorite swear word?” smiles all around the room as everyone slyly thinks of their very favorite word to use to emphasize a point. Short words. Usually start with either an “f” or an “s”. Here comes the best question of all…“What’s your favorite sound?” That’s the question I’ve always wanted to answer because I have the perfect response. My answer, of course, is my cat’s purr. To me, there’s no sound in the world as exhilarating. It’s both comforting and amazing at the same time. It’s like a little motor running that assures me that all is right with the World.

Now, while these are stock questions posed to famous actors I think they’re some of the best questions to ask just about anyone…I think it’s interesting to understand what they think about their favorite colors, words and sounds. While we’re on the specific subject of sounds, I should tell you that some would say that it’s impossible to hear my cat purr, rather that she roars like a lion. You see, very few humans have ever gotten close enough to my sweet girl to hear her purr, but have rather been subjected to a considerable, booming scream, and she has sent many adult cat lovers running in fear for their lives. But you need to understand, she’s quite an unusual lady.

I must confess, I am totally devoted to my cat. Yes, I’m over 35. Yes, I’m single. No, I’m not one of those crazy old ladies with 500 cats living in her house, wearing cat sweatshirts, growing catnip in the garden. Not that there’s anything wrong with cat sweatshirts (I know a lot of people who wear them proudly) or growing catnip…I actually tried it once and every cat in the neighborhood came running through the plants, plus it’s not one of the prettiest herbs in the potager. The biggest reason I don’t have multiple cats is Fig. That’s my cat’s name. Essentially, she doesn’t work and play well with others. She hates everyone and everything in the world except me … with a few notable exceptions. She likes Dave the bug guy, Josh the contractor and Joel the plumber. These are the only three people (other than me) who can get within 3 feet of her and, miracle of miracles, play with her. My friend Denise has taken care of her when I have gone out of town for all 16 years of Fig’s life and she still hisses at her when Denise comes to FEED her. Most people find this phenomenon incomprehensible and feel that since they are true cat people, they will win over my wild beast. Bring on the challenge. No one has succeeded yet.

You would think, from this ghastly behavior, that Fig is an enormous cat. Not. She’s never weighed more than 8.3# at any point in her life. She’s tiny. She’s beautiful. She has the most gorgeous black and white markings that make her look just like the cat, Figaro, in Disney’s Pinocchio movie. She has clear, green eyes that look like pools of sea green water and a pretty pink nose that looks like it was painted on. Her belly is snow white and so are her legs and paws. Her back and tail are jet black right up to the tip of her tail that looks like it’s been dipped in white paint. Now how could such a beautiful lady behave so badly? Welcome to my world.

I adopted my fuzzy little child when she was 6 weeks old from the Warren County Animal Shelter. (A note of explanation: One of the Vets in the practice my sister went to brought adorable strays from the Warren County shelter into this suburban practice so that everyone in and out of their doors would fall in love with these cute little beings and they’d find their forever homes…well, it works.) It seems that she and her litter mate, a yellow and white male, were abandoned when they were two days old and a nurse at the Animal Shelter bottle fed them until they were old enough to be put up for adoption. I had always promised my nieces and nephew that I would get a cat when I bought a house (they wanted a cat for themselves but because of their babysitter’s cat phobia, a kitten was out of the question).

One Saturday afternoon in early May my phone rang and it was my then-10-year-old niece, Lesley, on the phone.

“Aunt Barbie?”

“Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Do you remember when you said that when you bought a house you’d get a kitten?”

“Yes”

“Well, you bought that house didn’t you?”

Now, I know I’m in trouble.

“Yes…”

“Good! Because I found the kitten for you! We were at the Vet’s this afternoon and there are two really cute kittens who need homes and you really need to get them! They’re really, really, really cute!”

“Lesley, all kittens are cute.”

“Not like these! They’re REALLY cute.”

“Lesley, please put your mother on the phone.”

My sister picked up the phone…and she was no help at all.

That was Saturday afternoon.

On Monday morning I was on the phone to the Veterinarian’s office asking about the kittens. “Well, we only have the black and white female left; someone adopted the yellow and white male on Saturday. The black and white female is really sweet.”

“You know, I really want a kitten but the timing is so terrible. I’m going to be travelling a lot and I just don’t want to leave a kitten alone. You’ll have more kittens over the next few months won’t you?” I asked the Vet Tech.

She assured me that yes, they would and that they would certainly find a good home for this adorable little kitten.

At noon I was at the pet store buying cat litter. I mean, every home needs to have cat litter on hand, even if it’s just for emergencies, don’t you agree? So, there I was, in the middle of the pet store, buying litter and a litter box, for what emergency I don’t know, but I just thought it would be good to have on hand, just in case…you understand, right?

By 3pm, I decided that I needed to go to the Vets’ office just to visit this kitten. No harm in visiting. Someone else is going to adopt this cat, not me. I can’t take a cat home now. I’m travelling too much for work. (Ever heard that one before?) What am I going to do with a cat? I took one look at this little tiny bundle of fluff sitting in the palm of my hand and I was hooked. That’s how Fig came to live at my house. I mean, that’s how my house became her house and she allows me to live there with her. That was 16 years ago and I can’t imagine living without her.

Plus! Did I mention that I had recently acquired litter and a litter box? Terribly convenient.

So where does her, let’s call it, particularly outstanding personality come from? Well, over time, when people would come over, first she would hiss. Then the hiss gradually became a growl. I’d never really heard cats growl before. Then she started staking out territories, like my bedroom. I had to rescue adults from the second floor of my house because they were afraid that my 8#, de-clawed petit chat had transformed into the Terminator and they thought they’d be cornered in my bedroom forever. It was then that I realized she’d turned into a Rottweiler in cat’s clothing.

I finally learned the root cause of her behavior when I had to take Fig to a Cardiologist. Yes, my cat has a cardiologist. Just as a point of reference, I have three cardiologists, my cat has only one, and I can see any one of mine faster than I can get in to see hers. Well, we arrived at the Cat Cardiac Clinic on the day of her first appointment and as they were carrying her out of the exam room for some testing, I told the Tech not to worry about her growling as her bark was far worse than her bite. Or so I thought. When the Tech and Cardiologist returned with test results and the exam was over I learned a thing or two.

Cathy, the Tech, came into the room first and said to me, “Barbie, just a bit of advice, don’t tell anyone else that her bark is worse than her bite. If she has the opportunity to take a major chunk out of someone’s arm, she will. We’ve started handling her with chain mail gloves.”

I WAS HORRIFIED! This is my sweet-natured, purring, ball of fur she’s talking about. Not the demon cat from hell! What happened to my playful, sleep next to me, come when I call her, fall asleep in my lap, devoted best friend? Then Fig’s Cardiologist, Dr. Cathy (yes, another Cathy) came into the room.

She asked me, “By any chance, is Fig a bottle-fed cat?”

I was blown-away!

“How did you know?”

Dr. Cathy said, “I knew it. Bottle–fed kittens are just a little nuts. They bond with their one human, and you’re hers, and they’re very aggressive with others. This is classic behavior for a bottle-fed kitten and she’ll never change. Basically, they never had feline mothers who taught them to be cats.”

I must say that life with Fig is never dull. She keeps me laughing and comforted on a daily basis. Who knew when I adopted this 1# bundle of fur all that I was in for? Well we all have our little quirks, don’t we? Fig’s, let’s call them idiosyncrasies, don’t end with her outspoken tendencies. She puts me through my paces for her own entertainment every day. I can only tell you how she has trained me and the secrets and joys of living with Fig are many.

Strap in for the ride…you’ll never believe it!

I have very sad news to share

I have very sad news to share from this Thanksgiving weekend. Fig, My best friend, my steady companion of almost 17 years, my child in cat’s clothing passed away on the Friday after Thanksgiving after a brief battle with Leukemia. I will never forget her, she was my constant comfort and joy.

A Note to My True Loves and Passing Crushes

I have to preface my story by telling you that all of these notions have been brought to the surface by the fact that I just missed my 30^th college reunion.  I had good reasons for not being there; but still, I couldn’t help taking a major trip down memory lane. 

I’m not sure if I read or heard this quote recently, but it has stayed with me…”If you have truly loved someone, that love never goes away”.  I can’t say that there have been a huge number of men in my life but I’ve been very fortunate to have loved just a few and for better or worse I can honestly attest that, for me, those feelings have never changed.  I do have to say that the strength of the sentiments has certainly mellowed with time and I tend to forget hurtful moments and choose to remember the good things.  I believe that’s the gift of time and distance.  

Both men are married now.  Each with beautiful children and I’m sure that life has turned out just as it should. …But I also have to say that there are evenings when I’ll think of something specific and long to re-live it.  Snippets here and snippets there.  I’ll wonder if they ever think of me as I think of them. …or is it more usual for most people to just say goodbye to the past and remember it for the gift it was and move toward what the future holds? 

My question is this…once people marry and have families of their own…do they ever think of past loves or close friendships or do those related vignettes fade to dim recollections of times long ago past?  I wonder. 

College.  Oh how I wish I had the confidence I have now and could pass it back to my college age self.  Would things have spun so differently?  I think of one young man and question if I could have only spoken my mind then – would things be so different?  I think of a perfect party and a perfect dance and when I hear a certain song my mind takes me right back to that dance floor and I can’t help but smile.  Does he even remember? 

Here’s the best part I have found about reunions.  When I went to my 20^th High School Reunion all of my friends – men and women – fessed up to everyone we’d ever had crushes on and laughed – wives and husbands included.  What we found was a universal lack of self-awareness and self-confidence that now, fully developed, lets us talk to those who mean so much to us.  Oh, if we’d only known!  This time, the wish was “Why didn’t you tell me?”  I wish.  So many lost opportunities even just to reach out.  Perhaps that’s the burden of youth. 

So as we age, do we long for do-over’s?  Do we get smarter or bolder?  Or do we just get lucky enough to reconnect with cherished old friends and savor the moments we can actually spend together now and know that’s enough?  

Oh, for times gone by.  We don’t even see them passing when we’re in the thick of it.  The drama of high school…the angst of college – always trying to get somewhere…to enter the working world… to prove that we can make something of ourselves…and to make a difference in the world. 

All the while the world keeps spinning and so many of our special people will scatter to the winds and take different life paths.  Some will always be there no matter how far the distance or how long in between real conversations.  Some friendships pick up just where we left them and some are lost for time. 

It doesn’t stop me from holding on to vivid snapshots of memories or wondering if those are shared or if, by now, I’m the sole keeper of the flame. 

I can say with certainty they were beautiful and promising times.  I’m happy to have them so clear in my memory and that they are mine to relive any time I reach for them.  Some I want to believe are still alive with others, but in truth I know they’re either forgotten or they’ve tucked them away and moved on. 

My comfort comes from knowing that our memories are our own, always and forever.  I wouldn’t change where I am in life for anything…this is a great time and is an end product of all of the times leading up to now…still I can’t help wondering about the spectacular people I’ve found along the way. 

So, as reunions go, I think I’m going to have to go to my 35^th and quit wondering who was there and get the details for myself.   I’m pretty sure that all is right with the world just as it is.  Onward.  I wonder what’s around the corner.

Delta Loves Me

It was a beautiful fall day in 1997.  Clinton was in his second term as President.  I had a 9a flight to catch to New Orleans.  It was an easy day.  I was going out and back in the same day with two really good friends and colleagues, Bryan and Mary Jane, to see one of our biggest and favorite customers and it had all the makings of a great business meeting.  The big plus was that it wasn’t an early, early flight.  All is right with the world.  We’ve all got our coffee, bagels and time for a leisurely boarding process.  Bad news is that the flight is packed. 

So we all get to our seats and start to get settled.  It’s a beautiful blue sky day and should be an easy flight.  I’m sitting next to the window, relatively close to the front of the plane and a very nice older woman is sitting in the middle seat next to me…scared to death to be on an airplane. 

“You know I don’t really fly any more, I never really have.” She said.

“Oh, it’s so easy, this will be so comfortable, a short flight down and you won’t even know you’re on a plane.  The time goes by so quickly,” I told her, adjusting her air flow to make her a little more comfortable.

“Do you fly a lot?” she asked me?

“Yes I do.  I seem to be on a plane at least twice a week these days, it’s just like riding a bus, there’s nothing to it.  Is the air helping you?”  I asked her.

“Yes dear.  Thank you very much.”

“So nothing really bad happens on these flights, right?”

“No, these are really easy flights.  Bad things don’t happen.  Just relax.  Read your People Magazine. And you’ll be in New Orleans in no time.”   Seemed to calm her down.

About 15 minutes later it’s time to close up the plane and get moving.  Well, we’re jammed into this plane and it’s pretty hard to move around.  The plane is moving away from the gate and the Flight Attendant is doing her “Here’s how you buckle your seatbelt” routine and I just didn’t feel right.  I thought I’d try to be subtle about it and nudged my new friend next to me…the one I had just told nothing ever happens on planes….and said “Would you please get her…”pointing to the flight attendant and then all I remember is slumping into her lap.  Unconscious.

That’s pretty much all I remember until I heard a different voice, a man’s voice, say,

 “She has a pulse” and,

 “Take the plane back to the gate.”

 When I woke up there was a very handsome EMT looking at me asking the most cheerful “How ‘Ya “Doin’?”

I answered back, that I was just fine, thank you.

He didn’t really agree and said that it was time for us to get off the plane.  I didn’t really think I needed to get off the plane, but for some reason I thought it was ok to follow him.  At this point I noticed a police car, a fire truck and an ambulance on the tarmac all with their sirens running… that couldn’t have all been for me, could it? 

Now, I have to tell you, remember I got on the plane with two friends?  Just to fill you in, they were both sitting a few rows behind me.  Mary Jane saw that there was some commotion near my row… and then saw that it was ME…and came running.  Bryan was a little calmer… and came up behind Mary Jane and were following me off the plane.  So when I was at the front of the plane, all three of us were with the Police and the EMT’s. 

As soon as we were off the plane the EMT’s wanted to see just how scrambled I was and so they asked a few questions to use as a gauge.

“Let’s see how you’re really doing.  Can you tell us what day it is, what date it is and what month it is?”

Those are hard questions on a normal day.  I don’t usually get that right without a calendar but I gave it a shot.  Shockingly, I answered the questions correctly.

Then they asked me who the President was and I told them “Jimmy Carter”.  It was a “C” and a democrat!  I was just off a few years.  Yea, only, 20!

Then they asked me if I was there with anyone…bear in mind Bryan and Mary Jane are standing right behind me.

I told them that Mary Jane had cancelled out of the trip and that Bryan had tried to come but that he had gone on to New York to talk to “Newsweek”.

That’s when they thought I was sufficiently scrambled to earn myself a trip to the Emergency Room.

Well, Mary Jane rode in the Ambulance with me and the driver looked at her and said,

“Please don’t’ worry about your friend, she’s going to be fine.  But we have to run the sirens because we’re the only crew at the Airport so we have to go pretty fast so that we can get back.  So buckle up and hold on.”  Needless to say, it wasn’t a long trip.

Bryan did his own flying in his car but for once was immune from Northern Kentucky speeding tickets on this particular morning.

So there we were…three of us in the Emergency Room at a hospital in Northern Kentucky, laughing about turning Delta around.  I’m sure I scared the poor woman sitting next to me so badly that she’ll never fly again.  I think the only people who benefitted from our mishap were the three guys who had been overbooked and managed to make the flight and actually make their meetings in New Orleans that morning.

So, the short story from the ER that morning is that X-Rays, Cat Scans, EKG’s, and every other test, turned up nothing… couldn’t figure out what was wrong.  Instructions were to go see a Cardiologist.

And thus began my 12 month odyssey.

Went to see the Cardiologist.  Really respected guy.  Told me that, I, as women do from time to time, must have swooned and he thought I was afraid of flying.  Next time you’re on a plane, relax.  How condescending.  Not cardiac.  Must be neurological.

Go see the neurologist.  Did you have a stroke?  Nope.  No stroke.  Must be a balance disorder.  Go to the balance clinic.

Go to the Balance Clinic.  Wait forever to go see the Balance guy.  Meanwhile, I keep passing out.  Balance Guy is great.  He says, not a chance this is balance.  What did the stress test say at the cardiologist?  No stress test.  Told him that the cardiologist pretty much threw me out saying I was afraid of flying.  Should have seen his face.  Total incredulity.  Bit his tongue and collected his thoughts as to how to calmly word his response.

“Barbie, this is cardiac.  Not straight down the middle of the road stuff, but it’s for a cardiologist.  Go to a different Cardiologist.  Do you know one?”  and I did.  A friend of mine’s husband has a funky arrhythmia and swears by her guy, so I called him.

I got him on the phone right away and explained everything that had happened so far and asked if he’d still see me.  He said “sure” and set an appointment in the next few days.  I liked him immediately.  The first day I met him, he had at least 6 residents trailing him.  He’s a phenomenal teacher.  He’s in “Who’s Who in the World”.  He’s in every honorary society known to man and he’d be the last person to ever tell you about it.  For a while he wore the worst ties I’ve ever seen.  I soon learned that this incredible man, who knows everything about everything (including the best places to eat in any city in the world), wears whatever ties his 4-year old picks out for him, regardless of what it looks like…everyday.  Thankfully, as his equally amazing son grew up his tie collection improved, but for a while, it was always interesting.

Without dismissing me like all of the other doctors had, he looked at me and said, “I don’t know what you have for sure, I think I do, but I’m not certain.  So, here’s what we’re going to do.  We’re going to run a lot of tests to eliminate the possibility of all the really bad stuff and we’ll figure it out together, does that sound ok?”

I have never been so relieved in my life.  All of the things you hear about women with cardiac issues being misdiagnosed had seemed so true until I met this man.  I felt so validated to have someone take me seriously.

So, we ran tests, and tests, and tests.  And finally he called me and said, “Listen, I’m still not sure what you’ve got, but whatever it is, it’s not life threatening.  Let me say that again, because I don’t get to say that very often.  Usually, by the time someone gets to me, it usually is.  Whatever this is, it’s not life threatening.  But here’s the deal, to go any further and really figure this out, the tests get kind of nasty and I’d rather not run them unless we have to.  So, let me tell you a story.  I have a friend who’s a psychiatrist who works with couples who are thinking about getting divorced. I just asked him one day why don’t you just tell them to give it up and get divorced?  He told me that they’ll tell me when they’re tired of sitting on a hot stove.  So, I’m going to tell you the same thing…you tell me when you’re tired of sitting on a hot stove and we’ll do the next round of tests.” 

Made sense to me.  Even though I kept passing out, it wasn’t until I was coming home from a trip on a small prop jet that I knew I really had a problem.  I passed out on the leg of a trip from Ithaca, New York to Philly and was so confused that I couldn’t read my airline ticket well enough to know how to transfer flights to get home.  The good news was that I had a lot of friends on the Ithaca flight who carefully turned me over to a kind man making the same flight transfer.  I thought the man taking charge of me had looked somewhat familiar and it turned we knew each other from long ago.  He had been the Dorm Head Resident from my Senior Year at Cornell (now working as a State District Attorney for Connecticut).  As he promised,  he became my babysitter and we laughed and caught up on old times before he very carefully and kindly, put me on my flight to Cincinnati before he went on to DC to meet with the US Attorney General.  Unbelievable.  If I’m going to pass out, I do it in good company.  There really is no substitute for old friends.

So, that was a turning point for me.  Called Dr. Bob the next morning and told him about passing out on another plane and I had a pacemaker within a week.  So, here I am, battery operated.  It still didn’t fix everything.  Of course it would be a little more complicated.  It’s really not just my heart that’s a little funky, it’s my head too, which my friends will tell you, explains a lot.  Heart is perfectly healthy, just gets some funky signals.  So, what are the other tricks?  Oh, orthopedic stockings… I’m looking stunning these days.  Drugs, those are always good.  Nothing that does anything except keep you standing upright.  I’ve found that staying conscious and upright are major benefits in operating effectively in the world.  Downsides?  No more martinis, scotch, champagne or margaritas.  All of the drugs I now take have great big warning signs on the labels that say “If you are STUPID enough to drink while you’re taking this, DON’T call us when you get to the Emergency Room because you are TOO STUPID TO LIVE.”.  So, that about sums up some of the major changes in my life after turning Delta around.

Really good news?  I get to be everyone’s designated driver.  I’ve found this to be a really cool job.  I’m very popular at parties.  For a long time I could replace the calories with chocolate.  Also not a bad trade-off.  I’ve also found that I buy more wine now that I don’t drink it because I listen to all of the wine research and it’s more of a game to look for the hard-to-find wines and give them as presents to my friends who can drink and appreciate them.  Oh yeah, I look for single malt scotch too.  The stuff that tastes like dirt.  The stranger the name the better.

So, have I passed out in strange places since my first episode with Delta?  Sure.  Has it been interesting?  Oh, yeah.  Different cities.  Different EMT crews.  Different Emergency Rooms.  The good news is that thanks to an amazing team of doctors who are leaders in their fields who very patiently take care of me I now know enough that I can explain what’s happening… so that by the time I actually get to the Emergency Room…all is right with the world and I’ve had great conversations with the EMT’s… some of the most amazing people in the world.  In the end, would this be my choice, no…but it sure has been an interesting ride.

“The Dinner”, Summer Edition

After hearing from you in my last blog, it seems some of you would really like a few recipes which really made me think.  How can I give you recipes when I rarely follow them myself? …and then I thought I should tell you the story of “The Dinner”.  Everyone has their own version of “The Dinner”… it’s that meal that you serve when everyone special is coming over for an event…the one that you pull out of the closet when you don’t know what else to make and you want everything to go right.  Well, I have a few versions, but since I’m writing this on the 4^th of July, I think it’s only fitting that I give you the summer edition of “The Dinner”.  The only difference between the summer edition and the winter edition are the sauces you use…and I’m not really ready to reveal all of my secrets…well, maybe eventually, but not today.  …and I’ll still give you a few. 

Here’s the menu…roasted beef tenderloin, horseradish sauce, corn soufflé, Caesar salad (and my friend Jerry says you HAVE to make your own dressing and it’s definitely NOT OK to buy bottled), and since the summer vegetables are gorgeous, steamed green beans…and then chocolate cake for dessert… of course with Graeter’s Ice Cream… a favorite around these parts. If you’re trying to ditch sugar, you can always serve fruit, and I’m definitely leaning in that direction these days…but for the chocolate freaks in my world, there’s nothing like a good old fashioned flourless chocolate cake iced in fudge.  Not too rich or anything. 

My favorite part about “The Dinner” is when your friends know exactly what you’re talking about when they ask if you’re going to make…”The Dinner”.  It’s sad when your repertoire is so predictable.  Have to figure that one out.  It’s just that this is the easiest to make ahead of time…and make for a lot of people.  I have some other favorites, so you’ll have to tell me what you want to know… apple crisps, stir-fry’s, beef wellington…how to bone and clean fish… some of the more disgusting things I’ve learned along the way.  I can take apart a side of beef with a saw too… but I think that’s a little too graphic right now…what an education, I must say. 

Where was I?  Oh, yes, roasted beef tenderloin.  I think I’m going to start with the entrée and give you additional menu options of the menu over the next few weeks… otherwise you’ll be reading this blog forever! 

Roasted Beef Tenderloin is the easiest thing in the world to make.  You’ve done this before, haven’t you?  You can do this the hard way or the easy way…depends how comfortable you are with knives and a lot of kitchen and meat prep.  If you’re really comfortable with knives and know how to clean and tie a tenderloin, then you already know what I’m going to tell you…for you folks, buy the whole tenderloin you can find packed in Cryovac in the meat case at the grocery store.  If you want a little more help and don’t mind spending a little more, call the best butcher you can find and here’s what you ask for… 

1. Tell them how many people you’re having for dinner and they’ll tell you how many pounds you’ll need (for information, most tenderloins are about 3.5-5# and easily serve 8-10 adults)
2. Ask them to clean and tie the tenderloin for you and specifically ask them to remove the silver skin
3. Since it’s the summer edition and you’re going to serve this cold, pick your tenderloin up a day before your event so that you can roast and cool it ahead of time.
4. There are several methods/theories about how to cook a beef tenderloin and cook times vary based on the size of the tenderloin (thick, thin, altitude etc.) but the one I’ve found tried and true is this…
5. Once you get your tenderloin home, or ready to roast if you’ve prepared it yourself, be sure it’s rinsed and dry… rub it with a little bit of olive oil, garlic salt and white pepper to taste, I like a lot of garlic,  and put it in a pre-heated 350* oven for about 50-55 minutes for a medium rare – medium roast.  Start to watch for how well done your meat is at about 50 minutes, if it’s really squishy, it’s really rare, when it looks like you could push it and leave a thumbprint in it, pull it out of the oven, it’s medium.  Don’t let it get too firm, then it’s overdone and will be tough and dry.  If you’re using a meat thermometer, test the meat at its’ thickest point and take the roast out of the oven when it reaches 135*.  The meat will continue to cook once you take it out of the oven.
6. Once you take the roasts out of the oven, DO NOT CUT INTO THE MEAT for at least 10 minutes, let the roasts rest, the juices will evenly distribute and you’ll have a perfectly finished roast.
7. To cool overnight, turn some small plates upside down in a larger platter,  put the roasts on top of the plates, so that the roasts won’t sit in the juices, cover and cool.
8. Once they’re cold, the next day, cut the twine (remember they’ve been tied), cut your roasts in ¼” thick slices, arrange on your platter (line your platter with leaf lettuce so that the meat is properly presented), garnish liberally with parsley, tomatoes, lemon, whatever you want.  I’ll explain how to make tomato and lemon roses for your garnishes later…just be sure you’re ok with a paring knife and promise I won’t send you to the Emergency Room for stitches.  It’s sort of like peeling an apple in reverse. Then curling the peel back onto itself. 

For a Summer Sauce, I use a Horseradish Sauce…here’s the easy version 

1. Buy one container of good sour cream, buy the name brand (I even use the fat-free and no one can tell the difference)
2. Buy a big container of prepared horseradish (you usually find it in the dairy case)
3. Drain the juice off of the horseradish (if you don’t it just makes the sauce too runny)
4. Add horseradish to sour cream to taste (I like it spicy so I just add the whole jar)
5. Refrigerate and don’t forget to garnish when you serve it
6. Serve with mini-buns so that your guests can make little tenderloin sandwiches if they choose… buy these in any bakery department or your local bakery…you  might have to order them ahead, so just check to be sure of availability. 

Now, the only menu items left to tell you about are the Caesar Salad, Corn Soufflé (and I’ll teach you how to cheat on this one), steamed green beans (I do have a little secret here that seems to create a following, even so that kids eat green beans) and dessert where I’ll give you a few options. 

Talk to you soon.  Happy Roasting!

The Three Great Principles of Life* (*according to Harry, learned Sage)

*I had the great privilege of working with a very kind and very bright man named Harry in my last years at the Mother Ship (remember, I told you about the enormous Corporation I used to work for?…hence the Mother Ship).  Harry is, by training, a PhD scientist, but in this particular assignment was working in a group called External Business Development.  This group was specially charged with the task of making “deals” for the Company searching worldwide for great new business ideas that weren’t necessarily invented within the hallowed walls.  

One day, Harry took it upon himself to impart to me “The Three Great Principles of Life” or more simply, his three keys to eternal wisdom and peace.   These were derived from years of doing business in the trenches…both in deal-making and also grounded in actual scientific experiment.  I count myself fortunate to have this knowledge and it is with great honor and responsibility that I now pass these tenets along to you.  Heed them well and treat them kindly.  They will stand you in good stead. 

1.  More money is better than less money.
2. Money now is better than money later.
3. Fat and sugar make things taste better. 

The End.

Where, Oh Where Have You Gone?

I’m losing my touch – not that I think I ever really had it mind you.  But most of all – I think I’ve lost all of you – you meaning everyone or anyone who has ever read this little experiment of mine – my stories to make you laugh blog.

So after quite a bit of thought I’ve decided to do what any self-respecting quasi-marketer would do and that’s morph into a market researcher.  Here’s where I ask you what you like and what you don’t like… what you want to hear about and what you’d rather I never mention again. 

You see – every time I post a story I anxiously wait to hear from you…posts, ratings, little e:mails… I love them all! But lately, it’s been total radio silence…which is starting to remind me of high school dating years …you know, wanting the phone to ring so badly and knowing it never will!  But since I’m a little older and hopefully a lot wiser, and that was always a worthless activity… this time I get to take my query to the people!

I have a few ideas…

1.  Remember the New York Times cartoonist who used to hide his daughter’s name, NINA, in his weekly work and you had to find the total number hidden?  I could write one of your names into a weekly blog and have everyone look for every derivation of your name?  No?   Ok…next.

2.  You could write and tell me things that are bothering you and I can research and write about anything, as long as it’s legal, and share our findings with our little audience.  However, thinking about this again, I know all of you, and I know how twisted your logic can be and I’m thinking this might not be our best bet.

3.  I can include a recipe with each posting.  Although I must say that I’m on the fence about this one too.  For one thing – I don’t really measure much, unless it’s baking and then you have to.  Oh – and I just made some split pea soup – about 3 gallons worth – and although I have to say it myself, it’s really good pea soup.  Even my mother doesn’t want a container claiming no freezer space ( I believe her because I’ve tried to pack her freezer), but nonetheless…no takers.  My sister declined based on seasonality.  I even offered some to my friend Denise who said she has an aversion to anything green and squished and my friend MaryAnn, who DOES like pea soup, is out of town. Oh well, more for me.  As a side thought, if you want my recipe and have a really big stock pot (about 15 gallons) just let me know, I’m happy to send it.  But remember I have massive problems with portion control.  You’ll be eating pea soup well into 2011.

I had another thought about why I’m getting no comments, ratings or how-do-you-do’s.  Maybe readership is in decline because of seasonality and you’re all on summer holiday?  I miss you my friends.  Stop by sometime and if the spirit moves you, please leave a little note and make my day.

And next week I’ll tell you about Morty, the snake, who’s taken up residence in the holly bush by my front door.

My stuff is your stuff…

I’m finding that it’s not so unusual to have stuff go missing…do we just lose a CD here, a pen there?  Everyone seems to be losing things these days.  Well, I’ve found that there’s a big difference between losing things and having things taken. 

So, here’s my story.  I was headed home after a day of work… no different from other days and needed to stop at the pharmacy to pick up a few prescriptions.  Mullaney’s Pharmacy is a Norman Rockwell kind of place… they know your name.  If you ask, they’ll still deliver to your home.  They know when you have a cold and even more importantly they really care.  It’s a neighborhood place and I popped in just for 10 minutes to pick up my neatly packaged bag of belongings, said my hello’s and good-night’s, and headed back to my car to go home. 

So, imagine my surprise when I got back to my car and saw that things weren’t quite how I left them.  I thought, I couldn’t have left such a mess when I got out of the car, could I?  Then I couldn’t breathe.  Something was missing.  Where was my briefcase?  It was GONE!  IT HAD MY LAPTOP IN IT!  

I ran back into the store with my heart in my throat and screamed to Jim Mullaney, as if no one else mattered, “JIM, SOMEONE BROKE INTO MY CAR AND STOLE MY BRIEFCASE! MY LAPTOP IS GONE!”  Jim, the patriarch of the Mullaney family and the kindest man known to the world, immediately came from behind the pharmacy counter to walk outside with me and see the crime scene for himself all the while asking one of the Pharmacy Tech’s to call the Police to come to take a report. 

 “Did you lock it?” he asked patiently. 

 Now, I don’t know about anyone else, but I lock everything I get near… could I have left it unlocked?  Was this the one time in my life that I walked away from my car and didn’t hit the clicker on my key fob to lock the car door?  Was I that distracted?  I swear I locked it!  No, it was locked.  I retraced my steps. Tom Mullaney, Jim’s son, had been coming out of the Pharmacy as I had arrived, we talked about their plans to make my cat’s heart medicine (yes, you can have your pet’s medicine compounded to taste like tuna… it’s a lot easier than trying to give a cat a pill!) finished our quick talk and turned to go inside. 

Did I forget to lock the car because I was talking to Tom? 

Am I losing my mind?  (As a side point, I know I lost my mind long ago, but that’s a topic for another day.) 

Well, whatever, let’s go with the thought that I locked it.  

Who cares?  They got into the car anyway! 

So the police arrive.  It’s dark outside and the police want to take a report.  I’ve now realized that my cell phone is gone too. 

MY CELL PHONE IS GONE TOO!  Every phone number I ever knew or needed is in my cell phone.  My cell phone knows more than I ever will!  I’ve forgotten half the people in my cell phone, but when I need it, there they are!  I have international calling capability on my cell phone.  Any calm I ever had is now gone.  At this point, I’ve convinced myself that the kids who have my laptop and cell phone are out surfing the web while simultaneously calling everyone they know in far off places like Paris, London, Belize and Morocco while ordering carry out from Pizza Hut. 

Here’s where it gets easier.  I’m now resigned to having a total personal meltdown.  I have realized that my proverbial goose is completely cooked.  My data is gone.  I have no recourse.  Briefcase.  Calendar.  Business notes.  Cell Phone.  Cool Sewing Bag.  Sewing Project.  Little pin attached to the Sewing Bag that has the American and Canadian Flag together (gift from this summer’s friends’ wedding…an American marrying a Canadian).  All gone. 

Some semblance of rationality is returning to my brain. 

I’m wondering what good all of this does for a total stranger?  Nothing.  The computer is password protected because I have a very bright IT guy.  Two non-sequential password protected screens.  Computer is useless to anyone but me.  Cell phone?  Disabled the SIM-card at Cincinnati Bell within an hour of being stolen.  Useless to the roving band of borrowers.  What does it do for me?  Enormous confusion, anxiety, inconvenience and expense.  Did I have back-up copies?  

Of course not. 

That’s when one of my best friends told me that there are two kinds of people in this world.  Those who have lost data.  And those who haven’t lost data….yet.  I beg you my friends…back up your computers.  Get a flash drive and back them up.  Or get a fancy system and back them up.  It’s so worth it.  Starting over just totally stinks.  You’ll thank yourself the day someone drops your laptop into a bubble bath and fries your system. 

However, it is the best way to go through what my previous employer used to call “File Retention”.  That’s when you go through all of your files and eliminate or archive the information that is no longer relevant.  Well, wiping a slate completely clean and starting over from scratch is sort of cathartic.  So much for pesky archives.  But I digress. 

So, with adrenaline pumping in high gear, quickly replacing a cell phone and starting to rebuild a data base of essential numbers, I need to start rebuilding the rest of my life.  Go into the office.  I have a question.  Rhetorical, of course.  How do you order a new computer on-line when you have no way to go on-line? 

Thankfully, my client at the time had an extra computer and I spoke with the greatest rep at Dell who helped me build the laptop closest to my just stolen unit based on their records (thankfully, SOMEONE keeps records!).  Moreover, because they felt so bad about mine being stolen they gave me a discount on my new purchase!  I’m feeling better about having a band of roving youth breaking into my car and taking my essential tools.  Done.  Computer is on its way. 

Next.  Briefcase needed.  Called LL Bean.  Love their stuff.  Get the Rep on the phone and for some reason I feel compelled to tell my story to everyone I encounter and unbelievably enough, the woman I’m talking to had her car broken into a few weeks before too!  Why is everyone I’m talking to having the same experience… and this is all over the country?  Well, after we swapped stories, I told her that I needed to replace my briefcase and because of my story, she gave me a discount on my new briefcase and then shipped it for free.  I’m feeling so pampered and feeling so much better.  There really are so many people who understand how awful it feels to have things you need taken from you and will do all they can to make it better.  People you’ve never met in your life, but will do everything to pick you up and make life a little lighter.  Her story got better too… the police in Freeport, Maine found her Palm Pilot that had all of her son’s medical information on it and all was well once the records were found.  There.  Good things really do happen. 

Now, my sewing bag. I know I’m a total geek.  It was a special bag given to me by my very cool Aunt for my last birthday and I carry it everywhere.  I could only think that the kids breaking into my car thought it was a purse and that’s why they took it.  

Well, all of this had started on a cold Monday evening in January.  The next Sunday afternoon I was at a surprise 50^th birthday party for a friend when my new, fancy cell phone rang.  It was a man’s voice asking if he had reached Barb Stern and asked if I had recently lost a briefcase and a black bag with embroidery on it.  He wouldn’t give me his name, but told me where he was and said that the two bags had been behind the gas station where he helps out and thought I might be looking for my things.  I told him I’d meet him immediately if he’d stay there.  I was ecstatic! 

I went back to tell my friends and they were worried.  Instead of meeting the man by myself, they suggested I call the Police who had been working the case.  I followed their advice and the police were glad I called.  Evidently, you never know who is on the other end of the phone.  Here was the plan.  The Police would escort me to the location the man described to see who had called and would help recover whatever was there.   We all agreed to meet at Mullaney’s.  We left the party and were on a mission. 

Wow.  I’ve never seen so many huge police cruisers in one parking lot at one time.  Two of my friends had driven with me so that I didn’t have to go alone.  While they are two of my best friends, one just happens to be my rabbi.  So there I was with Bob and his wife, Terri.  Can you see it?  Recouping stolen property with the cops and the clergy?  It was perfect.  If you were guilty can you imagine being confronted by the Police and your very own Rabbi?  Felt like Terri (a college professor) and I were the witnesses.  Off we go…the police took the lead. 

As soon as the cruisers got to the gas station where we were told to go… lights and sirens blaring… I’ve never seen people scatter so fast.  As it turned out the man who had called was truly a Good Samaritan and the bags he called about were strewn across the yard behind the station and yes, they were mine.  Most importantly, my papers and calendar were relatively intact despite three days of rain, my briefcase was doused, but had my business card in it and that’s how the gentleman found me. 

Best news of all? MY SEWING BAG WAS THERE AND SO WAS MY AMERICAN/CANADIAN FLAG PIN!  No one else would have understood the sentimental value of the pin and the bag, but I love them and I got them back!  I can only imagine the total disappointment the kids who took them felt when they opened what they thought was a purse expecting to find wallets and credit cards and all they found was light blue fabric and embroidery floss!  I’m sure that’s why the material was lying in a heap on the grass.  

So, what did I learn?  Nothing is ever completely safe.  Be careful.  Back up your computer and keep the back-up someplace safe.  Password Protect.  Freak out when necessary, but laugh at it with your friends and you’ll get good stories.  And always travel with your rabbi.