…and the last few months living with the bad roommate blues.
Thanks to Lizzie Stewart for the wonderful blog of illustrations that I love to follow.
Blog
I started blogging in 2005 as a way to deal with my post-college depression. I had a lot of hair back then.
I share funny stories and life lessons all written in the same down-to-earth, tell-it-like-it-is fashion that makes me my mom’s favorite blogger.
Turbomode: Take Two
Four years ago, I posted about my life going into turbomode. I had just been promoted at the BSC (formerly USCA) to the position of Development Director in a year that came with a 75th anniversary gala for 300 and an accompanying fundraising campaign.
On this day in 2012 I find myself in turbomode again. Only this time my life has been hijacked by a booming business and a sudden change in housing after a long four and a half years.
The trouble is that every time I wind up in turbomode — or just busy — I find that I forget me. My social life persists (with some exceptions)…as does my work for others. But the self preservation activities that feed my soul: writing, creating and exercise…all of them out the door.
The Oaxacan wood carving I started 8 weeks ago with a fervor stands unfinished (headless, to be specific) and neglected. This blog — one of my favorite projects — barely updated.
I’m a people pleaser. I always have been. Back when I had life coaching every week, I called that side of me Little Miss Puppet. Little Miss Puppet calls a lot of the shots…she’s always the top priority. What can I do for you today?
But what should I do for me?
Yesterday I sat on the couch all day definitely not nursing a hangover the size of Texas. I caught up on Desperate Housewives and Community and didn’t think about anything. All of a sudden I wanted — no, needed — to create. My brain started to bubble with blog ideas and plans.
This is the end of my Saturn Return, a time when Saturn’s 30 year old orbit crosses my sky again.* Saturn’s return forces us to face what’s not working for us. If we face the lessons in its first orbit, they’re easier to take…changes that happen after 60 years of life can be much harder.
I’ve been pretty aware of my Saturn Return since I was 28, though I’ve neglected to share about it here. It wasn’t without inspiration, let me tell you. Yet another thing to blame on Little Miss Puppet! Bah, that Little Miss Puppet.
At its onset, my Saturn Return forced me to recognize that I was not happy working for someone else’s mission, even if it was a non-profit with a worthy cause. It forced me to follow my dreams and live the life of an entrepreneur…as crazy as it has been.
Since I have come face to face with that fact that I’m uncomfortable living beyond my means. That was a tough one. I’ve also come to understand that — as an enthusiastic collector of stuff — I need to keep all of it in order. When it’s disorganized and hard to find I get very grumpy…at myself and the world around me. As much as I haven’t really wanted to admit it, I seek order.
And I seek to take care of me. To find a way to prioritize the hours that feed my soul, even if it means letting down a friend here or there. I’m not sure how to make this happen, but it’s an important project to undertake.
And, I’m hoping, the final lesson of my Saturn Return.
*perhaps not exactly right but pretty close Continue Reading
Goodbye 3809 Shafter
Goodbye long bedridden gazes at the rooftops out our bedroom window…
Goodbye late night back porch chats with Kelly, Jeremy and Ila. So long happy baby noises and mimed conversations through our kitchen windows.
Never again will I watch the sun set while washing dishes or hunt for dinner in our walk-in pantry.
Ahhh We Lost the Guster!
The Guster is not a very courageous fellow. The saying, “Curiosity killed the cat,” almost doesn’t apply to him — that’s how fearful he is.
Until we brought him to his our new home Saturday night.
We didn’t really plan the move well. We thought we would take our time, but then when push came to shove, we had an empty gleaming apartment to move into and we didn’t want to do anything else.
We dropped everything, and brought the bed and the Guster over. Living there has been a little like urban camping — not much furniture, only the basics. Just what we need to survive: some food, a litterbox, a bed and Gus.
He was pretty upset and meowing a lot, but I could tell he was okay because we were there. He walked the perimeter of the house over and over sniffing everything. Eventually he took a sit on one of our familiar kitchen chairs and just watched us.
We went outside to sit on the stoop and enjoy a celebratory beer. Gus came along. He likes to come outside with us. He sniffed around… I went back inside for something and he followed me right back in.
Good Guster!!
We went back out to join Will. The Guster went back to sniffing the neighborhood. Will and I stopped paying attention for a bit… and then when it was time to come back in, he was nowhere to be found!
We called him over and over to no avail. Not willing to leave the front door wide open, we reluctantly turned in without our best furry buddy.
I didn’t sleep a wink. Every noise the new house made I was sur was Gus coming to the door. Eventually I put together a pile of blankets and tried to sleep next to the door so I could be sure not to miss him. Every hour or so I got up and tried to track him down.
Nothing.
The morning arrived, and we combed the neighborhood shaking our cat food and calling him. Nothing. Now, he’s not a young cat. He can’t scale fences and is terrified of anything new. I knew he couldn’t have gotten far, but at the same time I was sure that he might have been scared into running away by the howls of the neighboring dogs. Who knows where he’d end up??
Distraught, we asked our new neighbors. I made signs and we posted them throughout the neighborhood. With nothing else to do but try to ignore our heavy hearts, we went back to unpacking. It was lunchtime, and I made sandwiches in our new kitchen. Ham and cheese. Pretty good, though we hadn’t moved the toaster yet and toasted bread makes sandwiches better.
Sandwiches in hand, I went out to our stoop to call Will for lunch. He was out looking for the Guster again. I looked left and wonder where Will could be. I looked to the right and lo and behold! Who do I see cautiously walking towards me? No one else but the Guster.
I screamed and grabbed him and gave him the biggest hug he’d ever gotten. He was sleepy; just waking up from a nap in the neighbor’s overgrown yard and deaf to our pleas.
Cats. I swear they don’t care about anyone but themselves.
Girl Scout Cookies: Stingier than they used to be
The last year I sold Girl Scout cookies was 1999. Yes, it’s true, I was an 18-year-old Girl Scout.
Here’s a photo for proof:
In 1999, Girl Scout cookies cost $3.50 a box. This is after years of the price going up so regularly that customers expected and joked about it.
Fast forward 13 years and Girl Scout cookies are now $4.00 a box. How is it possible that they only have gone up $0.50??
Instead of increasing the cost, they’ve decreased the yield.
Thin mint rolls used to fill up the box…give a full box a shake now and it doubles as a maraca…the rolls of cookies bouncing around. I swear that peanut butter patties (aka Tagalongs) used to come six to a roll, not the measely five you now get.
It’s the truth and it’s pretty sad, but I can’t really blame the Girl Scouts…it’s all marketing…no one wants to pay more than $4 for a box of cookies.
And three cheers for the Girl Scouts for being inclusive of that transgendered kid. Makin’ me proud. Continue Reading
Reader Submissions!
YES! The text boxes are working! Thank you, dear readers, for filling them out.
Reader #1 says…
U should be on TV
We agree!!
Reader #2 says…
have you seen this?
you’re welcome.
No!! I hadn’t. That is awesome. Thank you!!
Reader #3 shares…
I miss you MOMUC!
And I miss you, FOMUC. What is this? Glad you asked. When I was in college, I lived for years in a triple room in a co-op. I went through about 12 or so wonderful roommates back then… Two of them were named Blake and Tom and together we made a baby that remains unborn. Thinking about it now, that’s a little weird, but back then it seemed like a good joke… I call Blake and Tom the “fathers of my unborn child” or “FOMUC” for short. And they call me “MOMUC.” We were sure brilliant back then.
And finally, Reader #4 says…
MAGIC…you’re an airstt, Tasha! Being partly Scottish too, I’m a sucker for tartan, and as for Jen’s big brown eyes – perfect. Must say, I didn’t notice that the bride atop the wedding cake was way too large
Hmmm… well, Reader #4…you have left me speechless. And that is hard to do! Continue Reading
Miracles Happen: The Redondo Beach Penthouse Apartment
We’d just begun the apartment hunt. I had imagined going to see but one apartment and it being perfect. How easy would that be?
We went to see one. It was odd-shaped, but had hardwood floors, lots of light, a garage, gas stove and washer/dryer. Pretty much everything we need except normally shaped rooms. And the location was not perfect, but good enough.
I kept looking. On a Friday evening, I see this:
Light, roomy 2BR 1BA apt in triplex with shared yard/garden. Laundry room, garage, hrdwd floors. 2 level: One BR and laundry room on ground floor; living, kitchen, BR.and bath on 1st floor above. Close to BART, College Ave., Farmer’s Market. Deposit: $1575. Small pets OK. Garbage included. Year lease. Available March 1. Open house for viewing on Feb. 11, 9 am – 2 pm.
Redondo Ave. at Clarke St.
Cats are ok – prrrr
I was in love…I didn’t sleep for hours daydreaming of moving into it. My mind morphed “Apartment on Redondo Ave” into “the Redondo Beach Penthouse Apartment.”
We woke up. We authored our rental resume and filled out rental apps. We went, packets of rental apps and resumes in hand to the follow up appointment on the imperfect odd-shaped but good enough apartment and then to experience the joy and wonder of the Redondo Beach Penthouse Apartment.
It was perfect. It was beyond perfect. The first level would have been nice enough, but the bottom story had an additional huge room and a laundry room / mop sink big enough to dance around in.
We were charming. We tried not to act too desperate, but responsible and friendly. We tried to embody the perfect tenants.
Of course the open house was crawling with other renters. A fellow was hovering like a vulture — trying the shower, exploring the drawers. “We don’t want to be vultures,” I say to Will. “We just want to subtly charm her and move on.”
Subtle charm: Check. Rental packet in landlord’s hands: Check.
And now nothing to do but wait. A day or two passed. I couldn’t think of anything but the Redondo Beach Penthouse Apartment. I checked my email obsessively and answered all unknown number calls. Nothing.
A few days later we heard that the odd-shaped imperfect apartment was ours for the taking. What to do?!! We couldn’t make a decision about that one without hearing about the Redondo Beach Penthouse Apartment! How could they ask that of us?
We stalled and stalled. A few days later, we were out of options. We couldn’t stall any longer. The landlord at Redondo wasn’t letting us know, and we had to make a decision. We printed the lease and went over it. Shaking with indecision, we showed up to meet the landlords and make our final decision. We called, left a message, and rang the doorbell. No response. Even though we could see him walking around inside!
Perplexed we called again. Rang the doorbell again. Again, nothing. We turned to each other and wondered what was happening. We had no choice but to move on. We moved on.
An hour later found us waiting for a table at Lanesplitters with great friends in town to visit. An hour later found my phone ringing from an unknown number. The pizzeria was loud; I didn’t hear it. A few minutes later I noticed it, wondering if it was the landlord from the imperfect place calling back to apologize for missing us. We still had that decision to make after all.
It was Cathy, the keeper of the Penthouse Apartment. She’d been sick and did not realize we were under a deadline. The place was ours if we wanted it. And want it we did!!
The news had come just in time. The Universe had conspired to keep us from taking the imperfect place for just long enough to hear the great news. And, it has to be said, the rental resume worked. We had a 2/2 acceptance rating using ours in a competitive market.
Now that’s a miracle right?
In Case You Were Wondering
This is how you address a cat.
The Ad-Dressing Of Cats
T. S. Eliot
You’ve read of several kinds of Cat,
And my opinion now is that
You should need no interpreter
To understand their character.
You now have learned enough to see
That Cats are much like you and me
And other people whom we find
Possessed of various types of mind.
For some are same and some are mad
And some are good and some are bad
And some are better, some are worse—
But all may be described in verse.
You’ve seen them both at work and games,
And learnt about their proper names,
Their habits and their habitat:
But
How would you ad-dress a Cat?
So first, your memory I’ll jog,
And say: A CAT IS NOT A DOG.
And you might now and then supply
Some caviare, or Strassburg Pie,
Some potted grouse, or salmon paste—
He’s sure to have his personal taste.
(I know a Cat, who makes a habit
Of eating nothing else but rabbit,
And when he’s finished, licks his paws
So’s not to waste the onion sauce.)
A Cat’s entitled to expect
These evidences of respect.
And so in time you reach your aim,
And finally call him by his NAME.
So this is this, and that is that:
And there’s how you AD-DRESS A CAT. Continue Reading
New Office: Pros and Cons
This whole work-home separation has been really a) wonderful and b) hard.
a) Wonderful
– More stairs! I walk up and down at least (and this a conservative estimate) six times the number of stairs I did when I worked at home. This has to be good for my butt and my general well being.
– Biking! I bike to work!! So fun. And Real Simple says that biking gives you more energy which is something I definitely need.
– No cat. No one is meowing and clawing and trying to eat some of my lunch.
– People! I talk to at least one extra person every day. It rocks.
– Way cool space. Warehouse 416 is a way inspiring place to spend my time.
– Friendship! (Yes, this is somehow different than people.) I have an office mate who is pretty freaking awesome and takes great photos that make the office look even better than it actually is:
(Photos by Sarabek Images)
b) Hard. And stressful too.
– Rubberbands are hard to locate. I always kept a well-stocked home office which, I now realize, was relied upon in non-home affairs.
– Where to file?? My desk is at work. I pay my office bills and my home bills at the same time (always have). Where do my home credit card bills go? Where do my work bills get filed? (off subject — why are they not all e-bills??)
– What to do? Get up earlier? The office is in a warehouse that has an art gallery on the ground floor, artist studios and one other business office. It’s pretty vacant and rather creepy late at night. Which is when I’m used to accomplishing most of the coding necessary to develop websites…what can I say? I’m a night person. It’s quiet — no one calls and I can put on a soap, and get in the coding flow. I’ve been tried staying late by talking myself out of American Horror Story memories and dissolving into the comfortable lull of Days of Our Live, and then boom! The timer from the weekly Toastmasters meeting goes off startling the wits out of me and bringing back American Horror Story memories. SO SCARY.
– No cat. When I drop some food on the floor, I have to clean it up. That’s a serious bummer.
