Whew!

It's annual review time at work.

Man how I hate this. I hate having to try and judge people in fair and objective ways... knowing that in a lot of ways there is no fair and objective measure and in some ways this will have absolutely no impact on their life but in other ways I have the power to make or break a career (or at least derail it pretty badly.) But what's even worse is getting my own performance review.

I have absolutely no self-confidence. Every year since I started my career more than 15 years ago... review time is exactly the same. My boss puts the meeting on my calendar. I try to ignore it. At first I do. But as the meeting time inches ever closer I get more and more nervous until... I'm a puking, nervous, bundle of good for nothing quivering putty on the floor. When the meeting time finally arrives (and it's never soon enough and always too soon) I go to the meeting and find out that I'm exceeding expectations in every conceivable measure. I walk out of the meeting -- totally exhausted, completely useless for the rest of the day, and so relieved that I swear to myself I will NOT do that to myself ever again.

Every year has been exactly the same. Every year that is -- until last year. Last year my review was abysmal. There were a lot of factors for this. I've shared the details of my story with many of my friends, but given that I don't want to risk having to shield myself under the "whistle blower" law... I'm not going to get into those details. Let's just say, I've spent a better part of the last year researching said whistle blower laws and some of my issues have been discussed in such places as The Wall Street Journal and congress.

So this year, as my review approached the puking, quivering, and puttifing were at an all time high. This year, I couldn't even comfort myself by saying, "Heck, every other year has been just fine... calm down, silly girl." No, that was not available to me this year.

But, I'm happy (and a bit surprised) to report that this year my review went like the previous 14 plus reviews. It's like last year never happened. Tomorrow, I can go to work for the first time in over a year without the very real fear that it will be my last day on the job. How cool is that!

In other news, I was gearing up to give my admin a "does not meet expectations" rating on her review. It was killing me, because I know how awful it feels. But it doesn't do any good to lie to her... It doesn't help her grow and it certainly doesn't help me get my job done. Well, she called out sick every day last week. This morning she left a message that she was running late and would come in around noon. At 11:30 I got an email from her. She quit. That was it. Bye-bye.

There is a stack of work piling up on her desk. Expense reports... travel arrangements... supplies to order... documents to file... all of the reviews for my department to prepare for HR... UGH! It's always something.

What does this mean?

Elizabeth's newest music obsession is Axle Rose doing covers of Queen?

Rites of Spring and Pole Dancing?

OK, who would believe that Kate Moss would pole dance to the Young Girl's Dance from Le Sacre Du Printemp AKA Rites of Spring AKA the greatest piece of music in the world...

Your Stress Level is: 86%

Wow! Not only are you extremely prone to stress, you're a total ball of stress these days. And while times are certainly tough right now, being stressed out is not making it easier. Your stress is effecting your relationships, career, and most importantly, you health.

How Stressed Are You?

Gee, shows how much I know! I thought things were better than ususal this week...

Your Driving Is is: 82% Male, 18% Female

According to studies, you drive like a typical male.You're reckless, aggressive, and see driving as a game.And while you like to live on the edge a little, you still know how to drive safely.

Do You Drive Like a Guy or a Girl?

Yup! It's the one place that I'm totally and always aggressive. Just remember where I learned to drive... it's more sense in that context.

It's Working!

For sometime now, well since before she was born, I have worried about Elizabeth's self-esteem and her ability to be properly assertive (that is standing up for herself and taking care of herself without being a bully or a bitch or mean.) I worried about this, because I have serious issues with self-esteem and assertiveness. I've been working hard to address these deficits, but I'm not sure that I've been as successful as I need to be (or would like to be.) So, I worry... how can I teach someone to do and to think and to feel things that are so elusive to me.

Well, yesterday I was presented with objective evidence that Elizabeth is developing a healthy sense of self-esteem or at least she knows how to talk the talk... and I'm pretty sure at six-years-old she hasn't figured out the fine art of telling people what they want to hear. At least not in this case.

Yesterday Elizabeth was mad at me. I forget the exact cause of her being mad at me, it was some kind of kid disappointment... she wasn't getting her way or something. In her anger she said, "I hate you!" She said it several times. My normal response to this statement is something to the effect of, "That's ok. I will always love you no matter what." But yesterday she got me at a bad point... maybe a moment of low energy or high frustration or both so instead I said, "Yeah, well me to!"

Now adults will immediately recognize that my intention was to say that at that moment I hated her, too. I really didn't hate her and I feel really, really evil for having to admit that I thought such a thing... even in jest; but like I said, it was a low moment for me. Elizabeth had a different take away message. She heard me say that I literally hated myself. She immediately dropped all of her anger and became very concerned.

"Mom!" she said. "You shouldn't do that."

At first I felt flush with guilt. She was calling me on my moment of parental weakness. But then she went on... "Momma, you have to love yourself!" She was obviously alarmed that I hated myself.

I took advantage of the moment to probe a little into her thinking process and her feelings about herself. And I'm happy to report that I think she's getting the message. I know we have a lot of self-esteem hurdles yet to over come -- that in some ways the real test of self-esteem doesn't even begin until puberty. But on the other hand she is so far ahead of me... so far ahead of where I was at her age... at any age... that I feel a momentary sense of relief and celebration. After all, if you don't have self-esteem as you head into puberty; you certainly aren't going to pick it up during that time in your life.

Check out the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse

I found a link to this on Pearl's blog. I've been working my way through some of the posts -- it's slow going because some of the stuff is hard to read. But it's important to remember Survivors Can Thrive!

What is worship?

OK, I bet some of you think you know what what this is going to be about... but I'm willing to bet you're wrong. This topic has been bubbling around in my brain for a long time now. I'd say you could count the time in months. I don't think I've stumbled onto the full answer to my question, "What is worship?" But the questions I have became a little clearer to me this weekend.

I'm a member of the Design Team at my church. For the few of you that don't go to my church, the Design Team plans and implements the weekly service. So, every week we're designing a worship experience. Back in the spring, the church Leadership Team (yes, we've very team based) told the Design Team that they would like to have the summer series address the Beauty of God. They said the wanted the topic be light and positive and up lifting.

I found myself really struggling with this concept. Light, airy, positive, fun, worship. What was is that? It just seemed so contradictory, an oxymoron. How could worship be like that? It felt very foreign to me. Worship felt like it should be prayerful and profound.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that worship, or religion in general, has to be a heavy weight or a burden. It's not something that should make us feel bad. In many ways, I think I have a very joyful faith. My faith is certainly joyful compared to some of the hell and brimstone and eternal flames people I've met in my life. I think God wants us to be happy. I think he wants us feel the beauty he's created and to experience the bounty of life and love and his kingdom on Earth.

But somehow, it just felt really wrong to create a worship experience that was light, airy, and fun, worship. Positive I could handle. I could envision a profound and adequately reverent experience that was positive. I would never expect worship to be anything less. But light, airy, fun? The move I've thought about this dichotomy, the more I've struggled with it. On the surface, it seems that worship should be all those things and more. And yet, it just felt so wrong to go there.

In the midst of this internal debate and stuggle to understand myself and my discomforts; I found myself at a Worship Rally. Elizabeth is going to a summer camp / day care that is associated with a somewhat conservative Christian church. This past week the church held Vacation Bible School. All children in the summer camp automatically go to VBS. Friday night was the closing ceremony, dinner, party, moon-bounce, kids going crazy with sugar highs and a late night thing. I didn't realize the closing ceremony would be a Worship Rally... but what the heck. I just went along for the ride.

During the rally each of the grade levels got up and sang some of the songs they learned during the week. In between the kids performances they had a rock band that played some modern worship song. The lyrics were projected so we could all sing along. A lot of these songs were really joyful sounding. The beat was fast and strong. There was clapping and stomping and hand signals and laughing.

So I asked myself, why is this kind of joy OK, but a light airy worship service is not OK. As I pondered this, the words being projected on the screen caught my attention. Boy, were those lyrics depressing. They were all about Jesus dying on the cross and how worthless and depraved I am... but for the grace of God. I realized that even though the beat was happy, if you really paid attention, you were getting beat up. And it occurred to me... maybe that heavy, I'm a sinner, mentality was seeping in on a subconscious level.

So, is light and airy without the undercurrent of hell and damnation an acceptable way to worship? Is it even possible -- by that I mean, does the very act of prayer and praising God for his gifts and confession of our sins become heavy? Is it even possible to have light worship? I hope so, 'cause that's how we're spending our summer vacation at my church.

More Pictures -- So, shoot me! I'm a mom

The End of Vacation Bible School

(these pictures posted by special request)

The Worship Rally to end the week -- the Kindergarten and Pre-school kids singing their song.

Standing in line for the moon-bounce at the dinner and party after the Worship Rally. (Yes, it was an in-door moon-bounce.)

Showing off her face painting. Even with the AC, the VBS shirt got too hot (or maybe it was just spaghetti strap withdrawal.)

Introducing... the newest member of our family

Mama Ghada

Mama Ghada came to live with us last Saturday. She is about 18 months old. She had one litter before coming to live with us, but will have no more! There aren't many pictures of Mama Ghada, yet. She's spent the better part of this week under beds, tables, and other furniture.

Better Late Than Never

Elizabeth graduated from kindergarten back in June. I used my digital point and shoot... but digital doesn't really save me much. I still have to find the time to upload them onto my computer. At least with film I can drop it off somewhere and pick it up when their ready. Oh well... for a computer person, I sure do love analog.

Without further ado... The graduate:

Curtsey practice before the ceremony.

Saying her lines...

Listening to a classmate's line.

Looking at her award for "Best Class Helper"

The principal congratulates the graduate

Officially a graduate.

Teacher and Student

Desert Island Disk

I just picked up the best new record I’ve heard in a long time… The posthumously released American V: A Hundred Highways by Johnny Cash is just amazing! It's one of those albums that just touches you somewhere deep inside.

I Came to Believe

By Johnny Cash

I couldn't manage the problems I laid on myself
And it just made it worse when I laid them on somebody else
So I finally surrendered it all brought down in despair
I cried out for help and I felt a warm comforter there

And I came to believe in a power much higher than I
I came to believe that I needed help to get by
In childlike faith I gave in and gave him a try
And I came to believe in a power much higher than I

Nothing worked out when I handled it all on my own
And each time I failed it made me feel twice as alone
Then I cried, "Lord there must be a sure and easier way
For it just cannot be that a man should lose hope every day."

And I came to believe in a power much higher than I
I came to believe that I needed help to get by
In childlike faith I gave in and gave him a try
And I came to believe in a power much higher than I
Yes, I came to believe in a power much higher than I

File under: What the ??? was she thinking.

About ten years ago, give or take a few years, I was going through a period that I've termed my "Angry White Chick Phase." It was fortunate for me that I timed this phase in my life with rise of such famous angry white chicks as Alanis Morissette and Tori Amos among others. Actually, my entire play list consisted of:

** Alanis and Tori as mentioned above
** Fiona Apple
** PJ Harvey
** Bikini Kill

So one day I just happened to find out that Fiona Apple was going to play a concert that night in a quaint, smallish venue in my area. I figured the theater was small enough that no seat would be a bad seat and rushed out for tickets.

Ms Apple was working her way through the set when she paused to talk with the audience. She said the next song she was going to sing had been requested by a woman (girl?) in the audience and she was dedicating this song to her boyfriend.

Sweet, I thought. It sure was supper nice of that woman to dedicate a song to her boyfriend and especially even more supper-dupper kind of Ms Apple to take the time to announce the dedication.

The music started to play and I couldn't believe my ears... The song she was singing was on her first album. But it had to be a mistake! This couldn't be the song that a woman would dedicate to her boyfriend... could it? Would someone really dedicate a song called "Carrion" to a boyfriend?

It's been a long time since that concert and some times I still wonder about that dedication... did the girl just like the music without listening to the words? Was it an inside joke? Or... was this woman cleverly and maliciously and very publicly breaking up with that guy? Now talk about one angry white chick!

And now for something completely different...

My friend is playing a game. I'm going to join in...

Four Jobs I have had in my life:

Babysitter
assembly Line worker
librarian
teacher

Four Movies I could watch over and over again:

Working Girl -- It was the theme movie when I owned my own business.
Apollo 13 -- Failure is not an option.
Dirty Dancing -- ain't it kitsch
The In-laws -- the original with Alan Arkin and the Colombo guy

Four places I have Lived:

Pittsburgh, PA
Durham, NC
Jersey City, NJ
Blacksville, WV

Four TV shows I love / love To Watch:

Law and Order -- any variation, but the original with Sam Waterson and Jerry Orbach is the best
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
The Dick Van Dyke Show
Any of the Newhart shows

Four places I Have been On vacation:

Aurtherdale WV
Niagara Falls (Canadian side)
Montreal
Boston

(most of the really exciting and glamorous places I've been have been business trips :-( )

Four web Sites I look at daily:

Aside from the blogs I've listed on the right I always end up at:
MSNBC
Google
www.fda.gov
um... I guess I only go to three non-blog sites on a daily basis

People who've Been tagged:

Following the lead... everyone who has read this and wishes to play is tagged.


Brickman -- the Capitalization is for You.

The Power of the Spoken Word

Given how free I can sometimes be with personal information; you might be surprised to find out that I actually have a few secrets that are, in fact, still secrets. Last night I found myself in a place where I was being asked to tell some of these secrets. Not just think about them, but actually give voice to them. To say them out loud.

I knew this would be difficult. After all, I’m 44 years old and some of these secrets go back to a time before I had acquired language. That’s a long time. It’s an even longer time when you think about how many of those days and years were spent putting up defenses around these secrets and trying to bury them so deeply that they could not have power over me. But defending against secrets and burying them only intensifies their power. Every time I swallow a secret or hide it or deny it; it’s that much stronger – to the point that their power has taken on a life of its own.

These secrets are very well defended in my psyche. These secrets have become so well defended, deep in their hiding places, that on some occasions I can actually talk about them… I can bring them out and parade them around and polish up the boxes where they are hidden before putting them back. Because this detached viewing of the secrets is done without feeling or emotion, when it occurs I am not viewing these stories as if I own them. They are not a part of me or my life. I can express these events in very clinical terms – the way a mechanic would describe what’s wrong with your car or a plummer would tell you that you need a new septic tank. When these things are expressed with such detachment, their power is not released. If anything, their fortress is buttressed ever more and the power these secrets hold over me gets stronger.

So, last night I tried to speak the truth – and by telling the truth I mean feeling the emotions that go along with the words. It meant owning my history and accepting these stories as mine. I can’t tell you how scary it was to even approach this task. I listened as my companion for this journey asked me if I wanted to try this… he talked about all the reasons this was a good thing to do and how he understood it was difficult and scary… I could hear his voice talking to me, but I really wasn’t there.

The fear and the dread were already carrying me away. What if I opened the box without my familiar protections and the contents of the box just swallowed me up? What if there was no end to the pain so neatly contained in the boxes? What of the stories contained in the boxes were more horrible than I had imagined? Or worse, what if there was nothing of note… like the Coke can Heraldo Rivera found in Grant’s Tomb. That would be embarrassing to have made all this fuss over nothing. Or perhaps it would signal that I was as weak and worthless as my mother always led me to believe I was.

But we agreed that speaking, feeling, and owning the stories I had stored away was the only way to rob them of their power and to release the grip they have on my life. So, I took a deep breath and started to tell one of the stories from the beginning. Even the very beginning words, “Well, there was this time…” seemed almost impossible to utter. I wanted to raise the shields and return to the comfortable clinical, detached perspective. But I fought against it. I summoned every ounce of strength that I could. I heard myself say, “…and then…” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words. My companion started asking questions… I couldn’t even answer him. After a while he said, “I’ll just ask ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions. Can you answer those? Try to answer.”

At first I couldn’t even say “yes” or “no”. I just sat and stared blankly into space while he queried. Finally he asked a question and I was able to whisper “yes.” It was just a rush of air between my teeth, but you could tell it was supposed to be a “yes.” It felt so overwhelming. “Yes.” It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever said. A few seconds later I was able to answer another question with the word “both.”

I was too shell shocked to cry. Waves of fear and grief and horror and embarrassment and terror and shame and pain just washed over me. It was saturating… all consuming… engulfing… Today most of those emotions remain, just not quite as intense as they were last night. It feels a little odd to sit with these emotions. I’m so used to packing them up and pretending they don’t exist. So it doesn’t feel right to have them out in the open. But it also feels like a victory. A small victory for sure. But as small as it is, it is also important. It doesn’t feel quiet right to celebrate this victory; what it represents is just too sad. But I feel like I should observe the occasion in some way. A memorial day of sorts. Perhaps I could send flowers to the grave of my great-grandfather and send a bouquet to the one still living. Of course, she’d think it was a token of my love and devotion. HA! Such irony. I think I’ll do it.

I can’t wait!

OK, I was doing some research / preparing for an upcoming service at my church. We’re doing a summer series on The Beauty of God. In a few weeks we are going to approach the Beauty of God through the eyes of the children. I decided to start greasing the skids with my own daughter. I figured I’d approach the topic with her and get her creative juices flowing so that in a couple of weeks I might have at least one thing truly worthy of sharing. Well, as it turns out I can’t wait to share what she said…

The conversation started as simplistic and as banal as I expected. Let’s see, she said that she saw the beauty of God in trees and butterflies and flowers and grass and the list went on a little more. Then she stopped. Actually I thought she was done “playing” with me. But instead, she thought for a second, then she said, “You know momma, I see the beauty of God in you.”

“In me?” I was a bit surprised and taken aback by this answer.

“Yeah, I see it in the way you love and the way you take care of me and, you know, like that.” Then she ran off to get a Bratz doll or something. I don’t know what surprises and shocks and stuns me more… The fact that she actually sees the beauty of God in me or the fact that she was able to come up with and express such a philosophical and intangible theory.

Regarding Parenting...

I have a lot to say on the topic of parenting, but not nearly enough time to say it. I'll get around to it... some day... But in the mean time, I'd like to recommend the book I just finished reading.