Yes, Christmas specialty lights...but how many?

Many of our traditions unfortunately died with my father more than 20 years ago. One that didn't is the annual contest to count the number of lights on the Christmas tree.

When I was a kid, my father would put the lights on the tree (keeping track of the total on a small slip of paper) and my mother would finish decorating with the ornaments and garland.

The pictures here were taken from my tree. As you can see, the lights aren't your ordinary plain bulbs. No way!!! It's part of the tradition at my parent's house (mine too) to have only 'specialty' lights on the tree. My childhood included lights that were shaped like antique cars, gift boxes, icicles, lanterns, etc. I must admit, the unique shapes of the lights did add a different dimension to the job of counting the lights as it's easy to mistake a light for an ornament.

But I digress...

Starting on Christmas Eve and continuing through Christmas dinner, anyone and everyone could place their name and their guess on a tiny slip of paper, fold it up, and place it on the fireplace mantel.

After Christmas dinner, when everyone was sitting around the table drinking coffee and nibbling on one of at least five dessert options, my father would get up from the table and head to the fireplace. He'd flick his cigarette into the fireplace and collect all the scraps of paper from among the flock of porcelain angels my mother used to decorate the mantel.

My dad would read each name and number and, after the appropriate amount of ridicule was heaped on those whose guesses were WILDLY off the mark, he'd place each scrap in order on the tablecloth.

After taking out money for each of the third-, second-, and first-place guesses, my father would reach into his wallet for the magic number.

We all considered it a 'magic' number because even if it seemed that the strings of lights didn't change much (if at all) from year to year, the number DEFINITELY changed. I know this for a fact because at some point during my teen years, I got sick of NEVER even placing in the top three! and cheated. Yep, I kept my dad's list from the prior year. Still....NOTHING!

I never won.

Until this year.

Voiceover artist...rookie

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where everyone around you knows EXACTLY what they're doing and you DO NOT? Or at least, you don't THINK you know what you're doing?

That was me yesterday.

I've been told many times that studio time is very expensive, so you NEVER want to be late to a booking (to record in a studio). That's why I arrived at the studio location 90 minutes early.

No, I didn't go in.

Instead, I did what any city girl would do when faced with a potentially life-changing appointment...I found the nearest coffee shop to get some caffeine and try to settle my nerves (okay, don't lecture me about caffeine not being good for a person's nerves...work with me!)

I was scheduled to record my first-ever paid voiceover spot (for a pharmaceutical company.) I was playing the role of a cancer patient who's become anemic. Not very cheerful, I know, but a very interesting role nonetheless.

Back to the coffee shop and jittery me. Who's sitting next to me at Dunkin Donuts? It was an older couple who was in town to visit their son who's being treated for cancer. As I spoke to them about their son, it occurred to me that no more perfect people could've been placed in my path to get me out of my own worries and focus on what's important. (And the coincidence of his diagnosis was not lost on me.)

45 minutes went by quickly and I headed to the studio. The engineer and producer and whoever else I met (5 people in total) were all very nice and professional. I, on the other hand, tried not to knock over the microphone or copy stand.

Entering the glass-enclosed studio, I put on the headphones and awaited instructions from the sound engineer and the producers of this spot.

Clear as anything, I heard a thump-thump, thump-thump in my headphones.

"Oh my God! Can they hear my heart pounding, too?" I thought.

Apparently not, because the engineer was ready to start recording.

Less than an hour (and about 50 'takes' later), we were done.

I have to say that I'm pretty proud of myself for one thing, at least. I covered up for a terrible rookie mistake (at least I think I covered up). The first page of my script listed my character's part as being paragraphs 2-9, so I only printed the first two pages of the 18-page script. (There was another character, an oncologist, who was recording after me.)

My guess was that my character only appeared at the beginning of this video, so I only needed to read from the first 2 pages (where paragraphs 2-9 appeared).

WRONG!

My character re-appeared in pages 14, 29-30 and 49-51!! So basically, I was performing some scripts that I had never seen before!!!

In this industry, this is called 'a cold read.'

Cold!?!?! For my first PAID job?!?!?

Since no one on the other side of the glass threatened to throw me out on my head, I guess I did okay.

And, they shouldn't call it 'a cold read' because I sure as hell was sweating!

Shiny, new...

It's definitely autumn in Chicago now (with snow flurries shocking us yesterday), so I decided to don a few layers of fall-colored clothes and run some errands. I ran into a store-keeper acquaintance of mine and he noticed my metallic brown jacket.
"I love that color on you! You look like a penny!" he said as he headed into the stockroom.
And yes, with the economy as bad as it is, I took that as a compliment!

How old is too old?

Driving around my neighborhood recently, I came across a peculiar sight rolling past me on a sidewalk nearby. The guy was wearing baggy jeans, gym shoes and a hoodie. Nothing particularly unusual there, right?
But still...
A question popped into my head, "If you are losing your hair, shouldn't you lose the skateboard, too?"

The online application started out normal enough...name, address, phone number, work history, education, blah, blah, blah. Of course, if (like me) you haven't filled out a job application in a while, you may want to keep your resume handy (hell! I don't remember when I started that job...two jobs ago!?)
But then things got interesting. Like 'let's go back to math class' interesting.

7/8 divided by .25 =

Then there's this one.

Give me the next number in this series: 10 - 15 - 9 - 12 - 10 - ??

Yeah, stuff like that!

Finally, they got to something I'm a bit better at...words!

Which word does not belong? probationary - temporary - permanent - interim

How about?

If paychecks arrive on the second Friday of the month and today is Wednesday, Oct. 12, when is payday?

The first math question came exactly from my job application....for a seasonal employee at Target!

What year is this?

Overheard in a public restroom the other day, 'You should take a chill pill!'

Karma connection??

Has this ever happened to you?
I was participating in a research study. Waiting for a nurse to come in and draw my blood. My mind wandered and for no apparent reason, I thought about a surgery that I had had about two years ago (see photo above).
And then...and this is the weird part...about 30 minutes later my cell phone rings and it's the doctor who performed the surgery!! He's participating in a webcast about that type of surgery and wanted to know if I'd be willing to talk about it online!
(If the Twilight Zone theme music is playing in your head, too, I wouldn't be at all surprised.)
Photo is from my post-op stomach. If you are grossed out, just be happy I didn't post the photos of the INSIDE of my stomach!

Too much time, too litte $$$

You would think that an unemployed person would have TONS of time to spare. But I've been incredibly busy!
I think this is the universe coming around to bite me in the ass after I had the aforementioned thought about another friend who is unemployed but 'didn't have the time' to attend a potentially helpful networking event.
Okay, it's not EXACTLY the same. Many of my activities are very soul-fulfilling, if not filling for my wallet. I've been involved in a number of research studies (okay, they do pay...and pretty well considering the time involved).
I've had 2 fMRIs in the past month and earned about $200 for them. A fMRI is a medical test that is similar to an X-ray except they don't use any radiation and they do use sound waves and magnets (so it's not dangerous).
Along with the fMRIs were a bunch of cognitive exams. Let's try one like the ones I did.
Read this list of words:
spinach
truck
giraffe
desk
motorcycle
cabinet
onion
subway
zebra
bookcase
boat
carrot
elephant
lamp

Okay, now close your eyes and try to repeat as many of those words as you can. No peeking!
Not so easy, is it? This was one of MANY cognitive exams I had to do. The tests were part of a study working with schizophrenic patients (but I was part of the control group). Interesting, huh?
I'm also involved with another group that studies the affects of pasta on women's diets and hormonal levels. Since I eat pasta at least 2-3 times per month, I could definitely get on-board with this study. And they pay to feed you!!!
Oh, I'm also the volunteer coordinator for a charity that I've been helping the last few years. We have a HUGE fundraiser coming up in July and I need to build an army of volunteers to make sure that everything runs well.
So far, I only have about 25 people (and I need about 70). Wish me luck!

Cooked to death

Over my weekly Saturday breakfast with my 80-something mother, I mentioned what a wonderfully delicious dinner I had fixed for myself recently.
In an attempt to enjoy a balanced diet, I try to stick to the meat/starch/veggie plan, so dinner was as follows: boneless, skinless chicken breast in a honey & wine sauce with sweet potato coins and garlic asparagus.
Yummy, right?
My mother's comment: "You're getting to be too good a cook, you'll get fat!"
?!?!?!?!
My family has perfected the ability to take a positive accomplishment and spin it into a potentially deadly feat.
If I haven't said it before, let me say it now: My family is not supportive or encouraging.
There.

The universe is having target practice and I'm wearing a bull's eye

Is this week over yet?
Maybe I'm over-reacting, but I'd REALLY like to stay home under the covers for, say, the next couple of days. Would anyone mind?
On Sunday, I treated myself to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. While I chatted with an usher, one of the Pittsburgh Pirates players ripped a batting practice ball into the left field stands and WHAM! hit me on the side of my face!!!
More embarrassed than hurt, I allowed the security personnel to take me to First Aid where I partook of some aspirin (no ice packs necessary). NEVER in the literally hundreds of baseball games I've attended have I been hit with a ball. Geez!!!
Oh, and the Cubs lost.
Fast-forward to Tuesday and another Cubs game. Although it's been pretty chilly here in Chicago, I had previously neglected to bring my 'Opening Day blanket.' It's a lovely, dark blue medium-sized blanket with wind-blocking vinyl on one side and a few straps to hold it together when it's folded up. Perfect to keep me warm during the spring at Wrigley.
Apparently, it's also a great target for the winged rats (i.e. seagulls) that have taken an early season-liking to the skies above the Friendly Confines.
You know where this is going, right?
Sure enough, during the late innings, I thought maybe someone had spilled a beer from the upper deck, but NO!!! two huge splatters of bird shit landed on my blanket-covered lap!
But my boys won, so YAY! for that.
I didn't attend the game on Wednesday, but instead ran some errands, including one that brought me southbound on I-55 just outside downtown Chicago. A large white van curved onto the exit ramp just to my right and then, without warning, swerved back into my lane!! Fortunately, the state of Illinois (and my mother) are correct in their opinion of my fine driving skills as I managed not to hit the moron.
Hope everyone else is having a MUCH better week!
If anyone needs me, I'll be under the covers.

The Case of the Missing Clothes

I recently returned from my annual jaunt to the Cubs spring training in Arizona, but I was not a happy camper. Okay, since it was 36 degrees in Chicago and 76 in Arizona, it was understandable that I was in a bit of a snit going home (oh, how I love me some hot weather!!!)
My bad attitude was definitely of my own doing (isn't it always?), but a complete stranger single-handedly pulled me out of my doldrums with a random act of kindness.
Here's what happened...
While sitting on the grassy berm (thought I would write 'knoll' didn't ya?), I met a nice, single fellow who lived in the area and offered to go for a drink after the game. When he started to get in my car (I know, I know...never let strangers in your car!), I grabbed the 2 jackets and scarf that I was planning to wear home and threw them in the back seat of the rental car.
You know where this is going, don't you?
Yep, I left the three important articles in the car. (No, nothing came of the 'post-game drink.' Thanks for asking.)
Changing into my 'cold weather' clothes in the airport bathroom, I realized that I had no appropriate outerwear for the just-above freezing weather that would greet me in Chicago. Two long-sleeved shirts and jeans. That's it.
After making several unanswered calls to the rental car company, I stood in the gate area with a distinctly cranky look on my face (I'm sure, I'm not very good at hiding my emotions.)
"Well, I know why you were here," said Phoenix Inspector (we're going to call him PI) after noticing my long-sleeved Cubs shirt.
"Um, yeah." Did I mention I was NOT HAPPY?
It turns out PI lives in Phoenix, but comes to Chicago almost every other week. After hearing my stupid mistake, he offered to bring my belongings on his next trip (if/when the rental company finds them).
How nice is that?
We exchanged business cards and said our goodbyes prior to boarding our very-crowded flight.
Turns out, the rental car company found my clothes (after assuring them for the 50th time that the clothes were NOWHERE ELSE EXCEPT the backseat of the car). They asked for a credit card number and sent them to me via 3-day FedEx.
Happy ending!!!
Question: I considered calling PI and telling him the result, but offering to buy him a drink the next time he's in town just to repay his offer of kindness. That doesn't sound like a pick-up line, does it?

Bridal bouquet of maple leafs

I just returned from a wedding in Canada. The bride is a Canadian friend who lived in Chicago up until about 3 years ago. She called me in December to tell me about the wedding and ask me if I could make it.
'Wouldn't miss it,' was my answer. It was true. Although we have grown apart since she left Chicago, I still consider her a good friend and wanted to be there for the biggest day of her life (so far, anyway).
The bride and her groom are both from small families (okay, small in comparison to my massive clan), so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when the entire reception totaled 30-40 people. That's essentially my immediate family...just for comparison sake.
Anyway, the ceremony was lovely, albeit different from the numerous over-the-top glamfests that I've been involved in. The bridal party included one matron of honor and one best man (both women). No religious ritual here. Just a female minister from some organization I'd never heard of, reading some wonderful, heartwarming sentiments followed by vows and ring exchange and wrapped up with the reading of a poem by a family friend.
Did I mention it was lovely? Simple, direct, unique and wonderful.
The reception wasn't really the typical reception, but I expected nothing less. It was dinner in a private room (with a fireplace!) in a steakhouse/bar that the bridal couple frequent. There were no ceremonial introductions, no receiving line, no DJ or band, no tossing of the bouquet, no garter snatching and tossing, no first dance.
Lovely!
I was seated with another American, a friend whom I hadn't seen in several years. Aside from the bridal couple, this woman was one of only four people in the room that I had EVER met!
It's always interesting and exciting when there are lots of new people to meet...in another country to boot!. People who didn't know you weren't popular in high school, wore braces for three years and were a bit pigeon-toed in grammar school. A fresh new start in socializing!! Yay!
Nevertheless, at least three complete strangers came up to me and said, 'Oh, YOU'RE (The Writer)!'
Am I wearing a sign?

I'll take a nametag and a bar of soap

In a feeble attempt to expand my social horizons, I've taken to frequenting a restaurant/bar that's just down the road from my condo. I describe it as a 'feeble' attempt because I stop at this place probably two or three times a month. So I'm not exactly a 'regular,' but I've managed to get to know some employees and a few actual regulars.
Part of my expanded social horizon also includes volunteer work. One of the charities I support is run by people in Atlanta, so if they need something done locally, I'm one of the people they call.
Not long ago, I had a brilliant idea to ask my 'hang out' if they would offer specialty drinks to benefit the Atlanta-based charity. They were 'happy to help,' according to the bar manager.
Yay!!
The drink recipes had already been created by the charity, so I organized the necessary signage for the bar and prepared to talk up the new creations among my new fellow regulars.
Fast forward to last night, my first opportunity to actually try the new creations and work on my sales techniques with a Saturday night crowd.
Selling drinks, not me, mind you.
I sat at the crowded bar and ordered the tequila-based creation. I took a sip. Hmmn....it's not as sweet as I thought it might be (with juices and agave nectar in it). I think I like it and I would expect men would like it because it's not a 'girly' drink.
In the middle of my internal diagnosis of the cocktail, the man sitting directly on my right suddenly spun around and extended his hand.
"I didn't realize who I was sitting next to?! Ms. Sawyer?"
Confused, I shook my head.
"Diane Sawyer?"
Okay, the ABC News corespondent is an attractive woman, but she's 20 years older than me!!!
In order to keep myself from saying something unnecessarily rude to this guy, I just shook my head again and turn to the guy sitting on my left. He had just taken the seat and seemed to be alone.
And then I found out why.
A wall of funky, sweaty b.o. hit me as I turned toward him. There certainly wasn't enough tequila in my new cocktail to offset this assault.
I lifted my drink and my coat and retreated to the other corner of the bar.
So, how was your Saturday night?

That's what friends are for, right?

I've always wondered how it is that guys can reconnect with a friend after many years apart and just pick up where they left off...like they started the conversation just yesterday. Like the past, oh, 10 or 20 years never happened.
And then SusieQ sat down and reminded me about how I barfed on a Southern Illinois highway some 20+ years ago after a significant number of tequila sunrises. Ah, those were the days!!
This past week has been full of wonderful surprises. I'm so happy that I was able to catch up with two friends who played very different roles in my life then and still do today. Okay, Kung Fu Girl entered my life just a few years ago, but we seemed so similiar even at the start of our friendship that we try to keep in touch at least semi-annually.
SusieQ, however, is a friend from my college days. She's one of those rare people that could probably tell a number of terribly embarrassing stories about me if given the opportunity in the right company.
Note to self: Never introduce SusieQ to my current group of friends!
It's funny how people who've skipped massive chunks of the dramatic periods in your life can somehow skip right through to the core of who you are just at the time when that core-drilling needs doing? (Does that make any sense?)
Anyhow, thank you, Kung Fu girl, for helping me sort out some current insanity and reminding me that I'm probably on the right track in my life. And to SusieQ for reminding me that a little insanity is often a good thing.

Happy New Year!!

I was returning from my mother's home in the suburbs, just about to pull into my condo's underground garage when I saw the young man with the food delivery jump out of his parked car. Trouble was, he parked behind my building and he would be towed if he left his car there.
How did I know? Because approximately 8 or 9 years ago (before I had a leased parking spot), I left my car in that exact spot and got towed in under 3 minutes. (The bastards at Lincoln Towing are nothing if not efficient!)
"You can't park there," I said to him as he walked toward the building across from mine. "You'll get towed!"
"Okay, thanks," he said as he climbed back in and started his car.
I pulled into my garage, pleased in the knowledge that I had just saved someone from the crappy fate of a towed car on New Year's Day.
I smiled as I stepped out of my car and started walking toward the door to the elevators for my building.
A shirt box containing pajamas from my mother were in my left hand, my purse was slung over my shoulder and a bag containing wine bottles (from my brother) were in my right hand, so I would have to do some maneuvering to get the door to the elevator bank open.
A man I had never seen before (in a Cubs sweatshirt and pajama pants) emerged from the door with a plastic laundry hamper. He started to walk across the garage floor, looked at me for a split-second and then turned around and went back to the door.
He opened the door and stood there, holding it for me.
"Thank you," I smiled at the kind gesture.
And there it was....the good karma of the world in complete equilibrium.
Pass it on.