Closing the Circle on 42.

Well, it's the first anniversary of my little 42. blog, and I think it's a good time to close shop here.

I've got a decent number of entries for the year, and this blog is testament to the tremendous life changes I've created and/or experienced in the last year, including:

--relocating from my lifelong home of Nebraska to one of the Top 5 largest cities in the US

--quitting a job I worked at for 19 years and thought I would probably work at until I retired or they laid me off (more on that in a sec)

--realizing that I need to take control of my career, rather than assume a corporation is going to do so

--leaving immediate family as well as friends (some of whom I've had since high school) for a city where I knew no one, and finding out I can still make new friends, even in my 40s

--confirming my lifelong assumption that I truly did marry my best friend, and that we'll celebrate 20 years of this event in September 2013

--transitioning (over the last six years, though it was all part of a process) from an 1,800+ square foot house with two-car garage that we owned, to a two- bedroom apartment we rented in the downtown of an urban area (a huge transition in and of itself), to a one-bedroom apartment we rented in a major urban area, and realizing it's all for the better and what I really wanted all along but was afraid to say so

--getting rid of my car and ceasing to be a regular driver, for the first time in 28 years. It's been almost ten months since I last drove a car and I couldn't be happier!

--learning that it's not too late for a do-over, and that old (or middle-aged) dogs still can learn new tricks

--finding my voice, in more ways than one

The closing of this blog comes at a good time. I started a new job this week, as you know, and it is terrific so far (and amazing to me, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I could do it). Also, I learned just yesterday that my former employer (parent company) has sold the life insurance subsidiary I used to work for, to a third party from the UK. As a result, many of my friends have lost/will be losing their jobs, and I am sad for them, but also happy for myself that I chose to separate from the company on my own terms.

(Not that I blame anyone who didn't handle it the way I did. It was generally a decent place to work and they made it easy to stay there. This is something all of us have seen before, on some level, and we knew/know it was/is always a possibility. I hope the company honors the severance packages it has traditionally offered in situations like this. My 20th anniversary with the company would have been in May, had I still been there, and while I would have enjoyed the Movado watch I was going to get, I promise you that I enjoy my new life outside of the company even more.There IS life after the "Hands" company, and it's good. You'll see. Best of luck to you all.)

Boycat just pee'd on the bed, which is also appropriate (or at least expected) in light of his recent circumstances. Sigh. It's always something.

But before I go, a couple more brief comments.

Keeping 42. for a year has helped me work through many issues in a way that only writing things down can do. Several years ago, Mr. 42's mom gifted us with a copy of an amazing book called Write It Down, Make It Happen by Henriette Klauser. She had read it and talked about the "proof" of it she had experienced in her life. Mr. 42 and I both read it and began putting it to work.

The author ascribes the power of it to a more "spiritual" influence than I probably would, being an atheist (or agnostic, depending on which day you ask me), but I have always been a firm believer in the power of the written (or typed) word. Many times I have observed that I and others can speak our truth through the written word in a way that we can't articulate verbally, even to people we love and trust. Sometimes it means we speak this truth only to ourselves, but often it is only to ourselves that it needs to be spoken to. That is the lesson I took away from Write it Down. If you want to believe that putting your intentions on paper sends them out into the universe (or to God, or to the Gods and Goddesses) in such a way that they simply must happen, I'm okay with that. As I said above, depending on what day you ask me, that might be the explanation I would give, too. Other days, it seems that writing things down (or typing them, even) helps YOU as the writer to clarify what you really want. It makes you focus on something in a way that helps it transition from being a pleasant, occasional passing thought ("Wouldn't it be nice if ...") to something you have thought about, written about, clarified, confirmed and are now making plans for.

Writing it down doesn't mean it will happen right away, or in exactly the way you had planned. This is how Philadelphia happened for us. We had our sights set on Boston, and life threw us a few curveballs that meant that wasn't going to happen when we wanted. What we didn't know at that time was that things wouldn't happen in Boston at all, but having lived here in Philly for ten months now, I am positive we ended up in the place where we were meant to live. (XOXO to Boston friends. Let's get together soon!)

What took place throughout that process (and for a good six months before we even began telling people of our plans): thoughts about what we wanted in a new city and how we wanted to live when we got here. Articulated on paper. Written down, more than once, across several notebooks and in two laptops. Refined and revised and reaffirmed, constantly.

Here in Philadelphia, a full 25 months after our notes about moving and starting a new and different life in a big city first began, I am here to tell you: it works!

Thanks to everyone who has followed this blog and taken time to comment or even just "like" on FB. I plan to take a short blogging break before beginning anew somewhere else (probably in Tumblr and in a completely different frame of mind).  Cheers!--Ms. 42

So Far, So Good

Things are going well so far at the new job. Granted, it's only my second day. People seem nice. The office is in a great location. Dress code at the new office is business casual, though everyone is dressed a little more formally than we interpreted business casual back in Nebraska. But it doesn't appear pantyhose are required with dresses and skirts (hooray) and I have enough "formal" business casual clothes to get by for a bit. I already have a blister from one of my new pairs of shoes. Go figure.

One of my favorite new blouses for work, which I love because it looks like a scarf!  :-) 

Things are a little stressful and overwhelming, as they would be with any new job, but it feels good to be back on track. It's only my third night of doing so, but getting up early and getting to bed at a decent hour, instead of keeping an erratic schedule, certainly has its merits. (Sadly, I had to skip an 80s karaoke night last night, since I now have to be up early. I do hope I'll be able to squeeze one in every few weeks or so. Monday nights are either totally fun tourist crowds, full of folks ready to party on a weeknight, or totally quiet nights with very few singers, which are also fun because I get to sing a whole bunch of songs and almost no one is there to hear when I'm lousy.)

My boss took me out for lunch on Monday to an Asian restaurant, and this was the fortune in my fortune cookie. Sexist language aside, it's highly applicable at this moment in time for all sorts of reasons.

(Also appropriate because we're in Philadelphia and this is a Benjamin Franklin quote.) 

I planned to begin walking to and/or from work for the new job, but the heat wave and humidity this week are holding me back. I don't want to have to wring the sweat out of my clothes at work (ha!) after walking in the morning, and the hottest part of the day is usually between 4:00 and 6:00, which is when I would be walking home. I am somewhat of a pansy in the heat, so I'm grateful for SEPTA. Things are supposed to cool off a little over the weekend. Hopefully I can start walking (a.k.a. built-in exercise) next week.

Boycat had another little cystitis flare-up on my first day, but he's still on the buspirone, so we're just making sure he gets plenty of water and waiting it out.  (We did give him a little bit of pain medicine last night, too, but he is already doing better and I don't think he'll need it tonight.) Am I kidding myself to believe my return to full-time work caused him anxiety? I know he loves me and misses me. I really hope I am not the cause of his suffering.

I have no doubt the days will soon begin flying by. Heck, they kind of flew by even when I wasn't working full-time and could spend my time how I chose. Only two days in, and it already feels like I've slid back into the weekday groove I had for 2011 and the first eight months of 2012. I had no idea our move would essentially be an unplanned "gap year," but since I didn't get to take one after graduating high school or college, it was nice to have one in my 40s.

So, yeah. Kinda boring but I know some of you wanted to know how it's going. It's going well, and most importantly, it's going!  :-)

My Last Day of Freedom

Today is my last (week) day of freedom. I return to work full-time on Monday, 7/15.

As excited as I am about the new job and about getting back into a regular routine, and in spite of the occasional stress of not having a full-time income since early September 2012, I'm feeling a bit sad today for the loss of my free time that will come next week.

All this past week, Mr. 42 and I have been doing fun stuff that we won't be able to do when I'm working full-time again:

Mr. 42 and a fresh pitcher of Pimms and Sunshine, National Mechanics

• Leisurely lunches at off hours that included beer
• Getting tipsy in the late afternoon before Happy Hour even starts 
• Two karaoke nights
• Our first trip to the King of Prussia Mall, which is America's largest shopping center. It ended up being a seven-hour ordeal for which we had little to show but a couple of shirts from a clearance rack. Three of those seven hours were spent on buses to get there and back. The mall was huge but just a typical mall, which means 85% of the stores are ones I'll never set foot in--clothes for kids and teens, baby goods, home furnishings and decor that are not my style, etc. Another 2% were large department stores, all of which had many of the same things. The other 13% were stores that we have here in Center City within walking distance. Neither of us see any need to revisit the KOP anytime soon. (If we can't find something here in Center City, it probably means we don't need it.)
• Boring but important errands I ran on weekday mornings and afternoons that can suck up entire weekends, like getting haircuts, going to the drugstore, grocery shopping, etc. 

Still on tap: a weekday movie matinee today; walking up to my new office in order to time the walk and see what interesting shops and restaurants are in the area; painting or crafting of some kind.

I wouldn't say I've made particularly good use of my time off. I didn't complete any major projects people always say they will do, like writing a novel. I didn't establish a regular exercise routine. My apartment is not organized from top to bottom nor free of any specks of dust. 

A series of miniature paintings I completed in June

I haven't entirely wasted that time, either. I got some arts and crafts done that were very satisfying. I did lots of writing, both here and for my freelance job. I read some great books and saw some amazing movies. I went to some concerts that were fantastic. I learned how to code in HTML, as opposed to just not goofing up the existing code. I learned basic Javascript and Prezi. I explored my new city and learned how to get around in it, on foot, by train and by bus. I have new favorite restaurants, bars and museums I will visit again and again. I met lots of people and made some new friends. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I want and don't want in my life.

One of the best books I've read in a while

A Prezi I created as a demo for potential employers

To be honest, there was not as much "leisure time" in there as I expected. Hunting for a job really is a full-time job. Some online job applications take an hour or more to complete, even if you already have all your past job info, salary history and reference contact info lined up. Phone interviews and face-to-face interviews require a great deal of preparation. Plus, I still had (and will have) my part-time/freelance job, seven days a week.  

In this last month and a half, I was just getting to the point that most people probably won't see until retirement (and maybe not even then), where time itself was becoming meaningless. I was waking and sleeping when I felt like it, eating when I wanted to and giving my days only the loosest of structure. I would think a lot of time had passed and discover only 30 minutes had passed. I would think it was still early in the afternoon and discover it was somehow 4:00 PM already. I remember my late MIL could never recall what day it was, not due to dementia or absent-mindedness, but because her days had no structure after she retired and she stopped looking at the calendar. Birthdays and holidays went by and she didn't always realize it, so they were celebrated (or not) when they were remembered. I am unsure how much longer it would have taken me to get to that point, and whether or not that would be a good way to live. 

Overall, I'm calling the time between September 2012 and mid-July 2013 a brief period of semi-retirement, filled with fun and adventure and a little anxiety. It looked a lot like my own parents' retirement has looked so far. To some degree, I regret not spending that time more wisely, but I realize, too, that it was a luxury I probably won't get to enjoy again for a long time. It has definitely taught me the value of time as I go forward. 

Time to take a nap before we catch that movie. 

I Saw It In Philadelphia: Cryptic Arthouse Cinema Graffiti

Not entirely sure what this means, but it was cool nonetheless. 

Graffiti on a construction scaffold, 7th and Chestnut. 

Uniforms and Dress Codes

Although this isn't a "My Favorite Things" post, let me state right off: I love uniforms. Military uniforms, police uniforms, nurse's and doctor's scrubs, UPS delivery person outfits, etc. I think school uniforms in particular are a great idea. Most of the schools here in Philly have a uniform of some kind, including the public schools, usually khakis and a polo or tee in school colors. School uniforms seem like a great equalizer, given the cliquishness, snobbery and, in larger urban areas, gang or neighborhood affiliation concerns that spring up around clothing for kids.

Choosing one's daily clothing can be a fun expression of creativity and individuality. It can also be a huge pain in the butt that wastes time and money and breeds insecurity, especially for women in the business world.

I worked at my old employer long enough to see its dress code transition from business formal to business casual to just plain casual, with most people at any given time not knowing exactly how they should dress. In the past we had such ridiculous dress code rules that required pantyhose (hated 'em!) for any skirt or dress shorter than bottom of the knee; forbade skirts shorter than a certain length above the knee; required ties for men (even in entry-level positions that didn't deal with the public); allowed skorts and "business shorts" so long as pantyhose were worn, then outlawed them a couple years later; required capri pants to be no shorter than mid-calf, etc.

Never again! 

Too much of everyone's time at work was spent reading the ever-changing dress code, determining if our own clothing adhered to it, monitoring the clothing choices of others and either reporting violations to their manager or having a conversation with them, if they were my employees.

Business formal appropriate footwear? I didn't think so. 

I also spent too much time and money purchasing appropriate clothes for the shifting dress codes and my own increasing responsibilities that required a more professional image. I bought as few suits and business-y dresses as I could get by with, and bought them as cheaply as I could. In my 20s, I sometimes used my work clothes as my "going out" clothes on weekends, when I couldn't afford to have a separate wardrobe just for off-duty wear. By the time the office dress code had relaxed to completely casual dress, I owned just two pairs of jeans, and was so much more comfortable wearing things other than jeans that I continued to do so most days.

Some people have a personal "uniform" they wear each day. Mr. 42 figured his out years ago, and it has greatly simplified his shopping and wardrobe storage needs. It basically consists of pants (jeans or flat-front khakis) and polo shirts (solid colors only, preference for no logo or not bigger than small pony/alligator, with pocket). In the summer, pants give way to shorts, also flat-front khakis. In the winter, polo shirts give way to solid-colored V-neck sweaters. 95% of the items in his wardrobe fall into those four categories. (He has a nice suit plus a few dress shirts and ties for the rare occasions that demand it, as well as a couple sports coats and a few items of clothing for specific needs like work-outs).

George Clooney modeling Mr. 42's uniform

End result: he is dressed and ready to go, looks polished, spends minimal time thinking about it each day and minimal time when shopping for new clothing. If a new polo gets bought, an old polo gets donated to the thrift store or thrown away if it's beyond usefulness. Same with pants.

I am SO jealous of this, and at the same time, I know it would never work for me. I really look awful in polo shirts. I also have a hard time finding jeans and pants that fit the way I want them to.

Totally my kind of outfit, from Soft Surroundings

I have developed a preference for loose, flowy palazzo pants and wide-leg styles that really don't go with polos. However, they do look great with the tunics and longer, looser tops I have also come to prefer. I like to wear blazers and cardigans, too, and I'm trying to figure out how to pull all this together into some kind of "uniform" for the dress code at my new job, about which I'm still unsure if it's officially business formal or business casual (not to mention how those terms are interpreted here in Philly). In other words ... plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

Do you have a uniform, formal or informal, that you wear most days?

The Ends Get Moved Further Apart

Boycat has been struggling with feline idiopathic cystitis since early May. We've already done two rounds of antibiotics, pain-killers each time he flared up, and a full six weeks of buspirone.

He finished the last of his meds on Tuesday. All seemed like it was going well. On Friday morning, he started peeing only tiny amounts and licking himself again. Soon he was peeing outside his box.

We had a refill available for the buspirone and started him on that again Friday evening. He was in such obvious pain this morning and wouldn't/couldn't pee, so we made a flying visit to the emergency vet hospital to get him checked out.

Three hours and $182 later, he is home for the weekend with painkillers, anti-spasmodics and Cosequin. He doesn't have a blockage, and they gave him some subcutaneous fluids that helped him have a couple excellent big peeings. He's doing better now thanks to the fluids and his meds, but we have to go back to our regular vet early next week for a more complete work-up: x-rays, possible urine culture, etc. which means $$$$.

Sigh.

There is never a good time for these things to happen, but weekends are of course the worst (though I feel lucky and grateful that we have emergency vet services available). And for this to happen while I'm employed only part-time with not a lot of spare dough is of course not ideal, either. I just got a small "summer vacation" bonus from the website I write for, and I know now it's not going to be spent on something fun like a summer vacation.

But ... Boycat is family. I wouldn't consider NOT seeking treatment for him, even if I couldn't pay for it. I am grateful to have services available and to have money to pay for them, even if it means I'll be pretty broke in July. At least we got to come home with our cat and with medicines that will help make him more comfortable while we figure out if there is something behind all this. (As frustrating as it is, I do hope it is truly "idiopathic" and not something scarier like a tumor.)

There were several other folks there that were much worse off: a young couple whose dog had been attacked by a pit bull; a young woman whose cat has something similar to Boycat but who had to be admitted to the hospital for treatment and monitoring; an older couple who left the exam room crying, and without their pet. I'll take my big vet bill vs. not being able to bring my pet home, for whatever reason.

Update 7/7/2013: Boycat went for x-rays and a more complete work-up a couple days ago and they found nothing. It is truly feline idiopathic cystitis at this point. We're finishing up the meds from the most recent incident, and we're going to keep him on buspirone for a few months. We were advised to add additional water to his wet food, and were told to consider a type of wet food made specifically for cats with urinary tract problems if he has another flare up. Right now, we're relieved to find it's nothing serious, and we'll continue meds and watchful waiting, hoping for the best. 

My Little Town

Been feeling nostalgic today. The day of the week I am most likely to go nostalgia-tripping through old photos and old music or do some webstalking of old classmates is always Sunday, for some reason.

I grew up in a little town that I hated, but it's been on my mind lately.

We moved from Lincoln, NE, where I lived from infancy until age 3, to this little town for my father's career. (We almost ended up in an even smaller town, but my mother had grown up in a small town similar to the one being considered and told my father she couldn't do that to her kids. Thank you, Mom!)

I wasn't aware of how small the town was, and what that really meant, until I was ten or eleven. Places that were bigger just seemed ... bigger, but the same, like with more stuff to do, but to a kid, it was just the same kinds of stuff and more people.

My sister and I walking home from the town library

By junior high, the town and I had declared silent war on each other. I went from being unaware of my town's size to being too aware of its size, hating it for its size and wishing I was somewhere else, and expressing this outwardly with my attitude and behavior and mode of dress. (And finding a few other like-minded individuals who felt the same way.)

Which is not to say I was some kind of juvenile delinquent. I did this in a very white, middle-class way, of course. I dressed strangely and took every opportunity to assert my individual style and specify my (superior, of course) pop culture preferences. If I wasn't going to be accepted and appreciated, I wasn't going to bother trying to fit in anymore.

I was, however, always a good kid. I didn't drink or smoke in high school (not that I had many opportunities, since I never got invited to the parties). I even used my good behavior, along with being smart and getting good grades in school, as a form of rebellion, to show them they were all "beneath me," and also because it meant that someday I would have a means of getting out of there. (I recognize now that my attitude was sometimes snotty and likely had at least a little something to do with the way people treated me.)

It was probably in my blood as well. My family were considered strange in the town. My parents were intensely private, with just a small circle of friends. Until I was well into my 30s, they lived in the same old house they had bought when they were poor as church mice, my father fresh out of law school with a wife and two kids already and hardly a pot to piss in. Long after they could have afforded better, they stayed in that same old house and continued driving their same old cars. (They did eventually remodel the home and my father got a wild hair when he turned 40 and bought a flashy Cadillac.) The town was small but had its "preferred suburb" area and social clubs to which the upwardly mobile belonged, all of which my parents rejected. My parents never joined a church (or even attended any).

(Yes, I've turned out a lot like them.)

So ... what's so terrible about my hometown?

Nothing.

Main Street

It is a typical small town in a Midwestern state. Its residents are traditional and church-going, socially and politically conservative. Its community is not diverse. It is hours away from even a medium-sized city like Lincoln. It doesn't offer much for young people to do--a movie theater and cruising the main drag are the primary teen pastimes. Its teens end up drinking at house parties or out in the country, and having sex at a young age, due to lack of any better options. Older adults still see movies and drink (but in bars), plus go boating, fishing and hunting for fun. The town has developed a huge meth problem since the 1990s. Its population has declined steadily since the 1970s, as it doesn't offer many career opportunities or decent-paying jobs that would keep young people around or attract new residents.

It's neither good nor bad. I realize that now. It just wasn't what I was looking for. I don't think I knew what I was looking for, really, until I was in my 30s, but I certainly knew what I wasn't looking for: a town like my hometown.

My sister and brother-in-law and nephew still live near there. They like the small-town atmosphere and feel most comfortable there. My nephew is in college but it won't surprise me if he returns there after school, or moves to a new town that is similar in size and demographics. They obviously want something different than I want and they enjoy the pace of rural life.

I haven't actually been back there since 2005, when my father retired and a small celebration was held (and he left the next day, to join my mom in the new house they had purchased several months before, in a bigger city). During the last five years, my niece and nephew even graduated from their small rural high school that is near there, and I attended but stayed at a hotel in a bigger city a little further away, just to avoid my hometown.

And yet, now that I don't live in Nebraska anymore and probably won't visit again until there's a wedding or a funeral, I find myself looking at the hometown newspaper website more often.  I did an earlier entry about learning my high school boyfriend's dad and my old babysitter had passed away, but the obituaries are not the only section of the town's newspaper that I read. Old family friends celebrated a 54th wedding anniversary and I saw the announcement in the paper and sent a card. I occasionally recognize a classmate or one of their children in a news story, but there are many names I don't know.

I miss the crappy old drive-in/restaurant that still has customers place their order via individual telephone handsets at each table. I've been craving the jiffy burgers a "rival" drive-in used to sell, and for which I have the coveted special secret recipe.

A friend posted Facebook photos of her visit a small town that still has a drive-in movie theater, and I remembered my town had one, too, until 1980ish? My mom worked there briefly when I was a kid. I saw Superman and Star Wars there, among other films.

A new friend who is a Montessori teacher got me thinking about my old elementary school, which took advantage of an unconventional classroom layout and created an unconventional (but very successful) teaching model. (In googling to see if there were any images, I learned that it was sold to a private investor and is being developed for mixed use business/upscale housing.)

Watching Freaks and Geeks again on Netflix reminded me of my 9th grade art teacher, who looked like the guidance counselor on the show.

So ... yeah. It doesn't define who I am, but that little Nebraska town is part of me. Simon and Garfunkel already said it better than I could, so I'll let them close this entry.