Album of the Week: A Very She & Him Christmas

The guests have arrived, everyone has a cocktail in their hand, and this is playing in the background: A Very She & Him Christmas. It's the perfect CD to set the atmosphere for your Christmas party. And ahem... Zooey Deschanel is the cutest thing ever.

This band consists of Zooey herself and the lovely M. Ward. Here's a of Baby It's Cold Outside.

Happy Christmas party-ing!

Every Job Has a Lesson: Part 1

Job #1: My Father’s Computer Company

In the late 1980’s, my father rented a one-room office, put on his khaki pants and tennis shoes every day, and drove across our small town to “work on his computer.” Our living room and bathrooms were filled with computer and programmer magazines, and he was living and breathing everything “PC.”

Within a few weeks he’d purchased a second computer and was starting to practice networking. I still remember his first day of success. After school, he drove me to his empty office. There were two computers, one metal folding chair, and a coffee mug. He unfolded another chair and sat me down next to him in front of the two computers. I sat on the edge of my chair and watched dotted lines going from one screen to the next. When one computer made contact to the other, a box would blink at the end of the dotted line. His eyes were wide and he was full of boy-ish laughter, slapping his knee and getting up from his seat, “How about that! Isn’t this amazing!”

I worked for him the summer after my junior year of high school. By then he had a good-sized office, a small staff, and was the largest internet provider in the surrounding counties. He also built computers from scratch and sold them. (On a side note, it was 1991 when I got my first email address, although there was no one for me to email, because no one I knew had email yet. “Rocketmail” was one of the first freebie email addresses and that company eventually achieved 1 million users before Yahoo bought them out. I still have a rocketmail address!)

Here’s what I learned:

1.  Love the Help

My dad was happiest on Monday mornings. He’d get ready for work and come downstairs with a big smile on his face (and 1-2 little pieces of toilet paper covering where he'd nicked himself shaving...) and say, “I can’t wait to give [insert name of receptionist here] a hug this morning. I really appreciate her!" And he’d go on and on… “She never complains. I wish I could pay here more.” The first time he told me this, I rolled my eyes in typical teenage fashion. Then, I witnessed it for the first time when we drove to work together... and several times after that. He’d walk over to the front desk, happily say good morning, and hug anyone who was working there, and thank them for all they were doing. He was truly thankful for his receptionists and the good bookkeepers he had and knew his well-being depended on them.

We had a conversation once when I was an adult about big businesses and how they were able to provide extravagant bonuses to their employees during the holidays. He gave me one article in particular about a guy who bought all of his employees convertibles and gave them two weeks off. His heart ached that he couldn’t do more. He truly appreciated the people who worked for him.
  

2.  Never Say No to Work

“If someone asks you to clean the bathroom, you clean the bathroom,” he used to say. He never did ask me to clean the bathroom, but I quickly learned in a small company, you can’t be afraid to get your hands dirty. Do this, and your employer will remember that you’re someone who can be counted on to help out in a pinch. Even in my annual review last week (20 years later!) my boss thanked me for being her right-hand woman.
  

3.  If Someone Trusts You, Try Trusting in Yourself

One day when I arrived, my dad said he had a big job for me. A hospital in the neighboring town had purchased 30 computers and they were ready to be delivered and hooked up. “BY MYSELF?” I asked? I was only 16! “Well why not,” he said, “you know how to hook up a computer. Ask them where they’d like to have them.” I was beyond nervous. What if I didn’t do it right and damaged them, or what if the people asked me questions I couldn’t answer? I had to drive the huge van for the first time, make two trips, and it took the majority of the day to roll all of the computers in with a dolly, open them all, and set them up. When I was done, I left the hospital and they had 30 new computers ready to go. I had actually surprised myself. My dad believed in my ability more than I did, and the fact that I accomplished the job taught me an important lesson: learn to recognize the nerves in your stomach as a challenge. No big growth ever happens from maintaining the status quo. Even today when I’m asked to take on something new, I may feel nervous or have a moment of doubt, but I've learned to recognize that feeling, and accept the challenge. More often that not, by being resourceful and drawing on what you already know, you'll surprise yourself, too.

Job #2: Chinese Restaurant

4.  You can leave at any time, or choose to stick it out – it’s a choice. But never accept being abused at a job.

It was the summer before college and my dad stated that he expected me to get a job. How dare he! I had envisioned two months of freedom hanging out with friends. I was so furious that I drove up and down the main street in our small town and applied at every business there was. Even if they said they didn’t need help--if they gave me the application--I applied anyway. The first business to call me back was a Chinese restaurant. I’d never waitressed before, but how hard could it be? My first day, me and two other girls stood against the back wall. We’d figured out we were all new. “Have you ever done this before?” I asked them. “Oh yeah." One of the girls said. "Here, take this order tablet. First, just go ask what they want to drink, then come back.” By the end of the first night, I’d learned the two owners were brothers. Neither could speak English, and the only thing they tried in English was yelling, “STUPID AMERICAN GIRL” in a thick accent. (I still like to yell this to people as a joke because WOW, just WOW.)

When I got home, I put my apron on the kitchen counter, and took all my $1’s and spread them on the counter intentionally, so my dad could see how much money I’d made. The next morning he said, “Whoa, what is that, $30 or so?” “Yep,” I replied. When he asked me how it went, I stated very factually, “Well, they never trained me, and it was me and two other girls, and the owners just screamed, 'Stupid American Girl' the whole time from the kitchen and everyone in the restaurant could hear.” His face turned red. “WHAT?! Why on Earth would you put up with that?” The tears started to come. “Because you said I had to get a job and I wanted to prove to you I could do it.” He looked at me very seriously, “Don’t you ever let anyone treat you like that. Do you understand me?”

He asked me to quit, but to be honest, I liked the idea of getting cash every day. We agreed I would go back, but I wouldn’t let them push me around. I went back empowered, knowing I could quit whenever I wanted to. I talked back once, and they respected me more. They never called me names again, and I became a really great waitress! The day I spilled a pu-pu platter on the floor was not good, and trying to vacuum sticky white rice off thick, red carpet every night was terrible, but other than that, the feeling I could quit at anytime made the job feel easier, and *HELLO,* unlimited fortune cookies.

As we get older, it seems less possible to make career changes, and things like insurance coverage for our families and mortgage payments need to be well thought out before leaving a job, but the lesson here is, we all have the ability to quit our jobs at anytime, and knowing that makes going to work less burdensome.

More to Come…

Painting Figurines

Church Office

University

Country Club

BBQ Restaurant, Italian Restaurant, Coffee Shop

Writer, Editor

English Academy

Public School

Resource Center

Admissions at a Business College

Property Management

Investment Company

Payment Technology Company

Song of the Week: Horace Silver, Senor Blues

This is in advance for next Sunday morning. I highly suggest some Horace Silver in your weekend wake-up routine! Goes well with: the Sunday paper, sunlight coming in the windows, and a cup of hot coffee.

Senor Blues on youtube. Enjoy as recommended above, or on the train or a long walk this week.

If interested: Mr. Silver's website.

Happy listening!

Song of the Week: Where Is My Mind?

Song of the week Pixies bonus!

For when you want ease in to the week: Dig for Fire

And end it rockin' out: Where Is My Mind

A Love Note to My Dad, My Cover of Ben Harper's Waiting on an Angel

Two years ago tomorrow, I didn't get a phone call my father had passed away.

Instead, my family back home called my husband at work, gave him the news, and said they thought it would be best if he could go home and tell me in person. I'll never be more grateful for the grace in which they thought to handle that.

My husband is a road bike devotee and rarely drives to work, so as usual, rode his bike all the way home. I was shocked that he was rushing through the front door at 7:30 a.m., just an hour after his start time. My 3 year old was on the couch watching a show before preschool, and I was in my usual rush to get to work.

My husband is a lot like my dad was: very John Wayne, very tough. I heard the frantic keys in the door, saw him burst through, and and he ran over to me sobbing like a baby. He was trying so hard to talk, but couldn't make words. Time passed slowly, my heart sank more and more. I wondered, did a bomb go off at work and his partners were all killed? Did he accidentally cause a fatal car accident on his bike?

He hugged me so hard, my ribs were on the verge of becoming dust, and I knew by the way he was acting that whatever I was about to hear would change me--us--forever. I begged, "Honey, what's wrong, what's wrong, what's wrong?"

... ... Sobbing: "Your dad died this morning..."

...

What? ... What?
__________

My dad died alone. In the days following the funeral and returning home, among all the heartbreak, long before healing ever peaks in, all I could think was, "He was with me my entire life, why couldn't I have just been with him at that one moment?" It takes a long time to make peace with those thoughts. My husband was equally as close to my father. He was Such. A. Man. One of a kind.

Now I offer this up this in memory of my dad. When I hear this song, I like to let myself imagine that maybe he wasn't alone. Maybe there was something bigger and better than I could ever be, helping him go softly to the other side.

This is Ben Harper's Waiting on an Angel, covered by yours truly. Higher than I should actually be singing, I might redo it later. By the time I finally learned the song today, the family came home and I didn't have time to figure out how to tune down the guitar. Not meant to be sad... A song of hope & comfort. From me to you...

Coming out of the Closet: My Cover of Bon Iver's Flume

CANNOT believe I'm actually doing this. <Pant, pant, sigh, stop breathing...> Fear is a powerful thing.

I have enjoyed singing my entire life, but absolutely cannot sing in front of anyone without almost dying--and yes, I mean seriously really truly dying from nerve overload. I've sung at three good friend's weddings at their request and thought I would die each time. I'm still here, but my heart probably has scars on it from stopping a few times. Lately, I've started to wonder what is at the root of my stage fright.

When my son was born, I felt a fantastic urge to get over this fear. I'm looking at this precious new individual, amazed by how funny he is, thinking that if he were ever embarrassed to let any part of his personality show, or if he had a talent he was scared to share... just... just... WHAT AN INJUSTICE! And what am I teaching him by saying, "Oh no, no.. I couldn't..." when people ask me to sing? Yuck. I never want to represent anything other than how important it is to figure out who you are and be that thing.

A few months ago, I thought it was about time I made a move. I sang at an open mic night, and over 15 of my friends and family came to cheer me on. I shared a part of my soul and no one disowned me. I didn't even die. I'm still afraid, but much less afraid.

Nothing I do is perfect.* And I think that's part of the root of my fear. "Keep your eyes open when you sing, don't miss a note." Though when I watch my favorite musicians, they're not perfect. They sing with their eyes closed. And I'm reminded singing is so utterly emotional and raw. It's the realness, not the perfect-ness, that makes it resonate.

Music also brings me closer to knowing who I truly am. And so does my current obsession, Bon Iver. (Please don't ask me what any of his songs mean, because I have no idea.)

Here is an acoustic guitar cover of his song, Flume. (It starts at 11 seconds in.) It's just a stagnant image, because I don't want you to actually watch me while I sing. Just not there yet.

*Also, I do already know that I cannot play guitar worth squat. You can let me know that, too, but I am painfully aware.
<Wiping sweat off my palms as I click "publish" for the first time...> From me to whoever might like this, enjoy!

Movember

When even a woman looks at my husband’s face, she shivers with dread just wondering what it would feel like to shave that. 

Aside from the fact that his facial hair resembles a Calico cat, with red, white, blonde and black hair, it is coarse and prickly and hurts to touch. On his chin, there is one black hair (ironically surrounded by white hair) and if you peer at it closely, you can see the actual diameter of the one hair. 

All that to say... he can grow a great, thick beard. From far away, it looks red. Up close, his soul patch is blonde. I beg him to do it every Christmas because even though it’s not white, he looks Santa-ish. And it gets very soft and handsome-looking, and much to my surprise, totally turns me on. 

Historical photo: (Reason for growing a beard? Attended a Halloween wedding with a dress-up reception, and it was needed to be Goundskeeper Willie from The Simpsons, at right).

 

 

 

 

 

This month, to raise money for prostate cancer research and other cancers affecting men’s health, Mr. P. will be growing ONLY A MUSTACHE for the first time! 

I would also like to admit that I probably have enough upper lip hair to look like a weird librarian, and I could probably compete in the mustache event, but... on second thought... nah.  

Now that you see what the beard can do, I cannot wait to show you pictures of this stache at the end of the month.

Read more about Movember.