Music as Metaphor

When I look back at 2008, I'm going to remember April as one of the best months of my life.

I have a lot to tell you, but I'm not quite sure how to put it all in a container. I think the best way to describe it is though another metaphor, selections from the newest playlist on my beloved iPod.

This music is my life.

What a Wonderful World - Louis Armstrong
True Colors - Cyndi Lauper
Shining Star - Earth, Wind & Fire
You Get What You Give - New Radicals
Respect - Aretha Franklin
Change the World - Eric Clapton
I Can See Clearly Now - Johnny Nash
Three Little Birds - Bob Marley
The Way You Do the Things You Do - UB40
Beautiful Day - U2
Sitting in Limbo - Jimmy Cliff
You Gotta Be - Des'ree
Upside Down - Jack Johnson
Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles
Kind and Generous - Natalie Merchant
Why Georgia - John Mayer
Every Morning - Sugar Ray
You Raise Me Up - Celtic Woman
Off the Wall - Michael Jackson
Let's Get it Started - Black Eyed Peas
Just Can't Get Enough - Depeche Mode
Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day
All for You - Janet Jackson
Happier than the Morning Sun - Stevie Wonder
New Soul - Yael Naim
Don't Stop Believin' - Journey
I'm on My Way - The Proclaimers
These Are Days - 10,000 Maniacs

Put it all together, and it paints quite a picture.

Thinking it might be time for caller ID

SCENE INT. FAMILY DINING ROOM DINNERTIME

MOTHER is rushing between the kitchen and the dinner table. BOY (5) is playing Wii in the living room and has refused to come to the table, not responding to MOTHER'S threats that he won't be playing Wii tomorrow, either, if he doesn't come to the table immediately. GIRL (3) has woken up poorly from an afternoon nap and is crying at the table with regard to something unfortunate about her string cheese.

FROM THE LIVING ROOM:

BOY (O.S.)
But Mom, I didn't finish this level yet.

ANSWERING FROM ACROSS THE HOUSE:

MOTHER

That's too bad, it's time for dinner, then bath, then bed. You're done. Period. End of story.

BOY (O.S.)
(whining, demanding)
But I need to finish. Mom (said so that it sounds like two words).

The phone rings. MOTHER picks it up, assuming it is a call from FATHER announcing he has left the office and will be home soon.

MOTHER
(answers the phone, shouting)
NO!

(pauses)
Hello?

VOICE
(after a slight, subtle laugh)

Hey, Karen. It's [HER EMPLOYER].

I'm guessing that was for the kids?

MOTHER
(embarrassed, wincing)
Yeah, sorry about that, thought you were my husband.

MOTHER hurries to exit the kitchen into the yard, slightly more embarrassed now since she has just mistaken her boss for her spouse, to collect herself and continue her adult conversation.

EXT. BACK YARD, BIRDS CHIRPING, NOT CRYING NOR WHINING

(continuing to HER EMPLOYER) So, what's going on?

FADE OUT:

THE END

I know, but I said I'd probably never write another screenplay.

Taking some time for meme

I've been tagged by both Working Mum on the Verge and Oh, The Joys for what amounts to roughly the same meme (though I'll merge the two, not to discount either one), and since I've been quiet this week, I'll give you something to ponder while I'm out and about doing my thing.

The Game Meme Rules:

The rules of The Game get posted on the beginning.
Each player answers the rules about himself [or indeed herself].
At the end of the post, the player tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they’ve been tagged and asking them to read his [or her] blog.


What was I doing ten years ago?

Ten years ago, I was newly engaged and planning my wedding which would take place in about seven months. I was working a new job, one I'd coveted from afar and found to be somewhat disenchanting upon my arrival, but plodded through nonetheless(and lived in an apartment just four minutes from my office!). I had just completed an intensive program of religious study. I was a few months away from a three week trip to Israel with my future in-laws and fiance. (I had also just met with a nutritionist to figure out how to lose the twenty-five pounds I'd gained in the early months of courtship with that soon to be husband of mine.)


5 Snacks I enjoy

1. Chips & salsa, hummus & pita, veggies & dip
2. Nuts
3. Fruit
4. Popcorn
5. Edamame


Things I would do if I were a billionaire

1. Fund my children's education, and also their children's education, possibly their children's as well
2. Fund education for children not directly related to me
3. Give generously, and anonymously, to causes that matter to us
4. Travel until it wasn't fun anymore


Five jobs that I have had

1. Ice cream scooper
2. Babysitter
3. Assistant to a Private Investigator
4. Attractions Hostess (that's ride operator to you) at Disneyland
5. My family had a bunch of chickens, and I sold the eggs to our neighbors @ $1/dozen.


Three of my bad habits

1. I'm messy.
2. I try to do too much in too little time, and am typically late because of it.
3. I'm a perfectionist.


Five things on my To-Do list today

1. Buy milk & eggs
2. Watch Grey's Anatomy
3. Confirm plans for Friday
4. Coordinate materials for new staff person to review for community event this weekend
5. Help Jake finish his spring break homework


Five places I’ve lived

1. Laguna Hills, California
2. Los Angeles, California
3. Hermosa Beach, California
4. Huntington Beach, California
5. Woodland Hills, California


Five books I’ve recently read I'm reading

1. Go Away, Big Green Monster
2. Goodnight, Gorilla
3. Back on the Career Track
4. Brother, I'm Dying
5. What Einstein Told His Cook 2: The Sequel: Further Adventures in Kitchen Science


Five people or communities I’m going to tag

1. LaskiGal
2. Ann(ie)
3. Liz
4. Crystal
5. Amanda

Eight Windows

Oh, The Joys posted eleven windows to her soul.

I'd started my own list a month ago, inspired by Mighty Girl's List of 100 scenes she hoped she'd see as her life flashed before her eyes. But I hadn't quite reached 100 and it's been getting dusty in my drafts.

Not seven, not eleven, not one hundred, here are eight windows to my soul.

1. Watching the thunderstorms roll through the sky from our Miami Beach balcony one hot August night.

2. Choosing her first pink dress, minutes after we learned she was a girl.

3. Seeing his face as I walked down the aisle.

4. My hand against the worn stones on the wall in Jerusalem, seeing all the messages people had tucked in its crevices, knowing I wished for nothing, that all I had was all I would ever need.

5. Finding my name on the paper taped to the leadership office window of officers appointed to student government positions.

6. Walking around the gardens of the LACMA knowing I had to tell him that I loved him that day.

7. The view of the lights along the Champs-Elysees from the top of the Arc de Triomphe, (a place I'd seen only in old videos from high school French class and from a poster on the back of my bedroom door) after insisting we climb all the way up, in the rain, at night, because when was the next time we would be in Paris?

8. Alone with my newborn boy in the dimly lit hospital room, stretching out his tiny fingers against mine as I told him the stories of our family so he would know who he would be meeting and how very loved he already was.

What do you see?

If you join in on the prompt, add the links below to the bottom of your post. I'll add your link to my list, too.

jen with seven windows of my soul
Jessica with Eleven Windows
Tracy from Tiny Mantras
Defiant Muse from Musings...
LSM at Somewhere In the Suburbs

The Buttercream Remedy

You'll trust me when I tell you, without giving any detail or explanation, that I needed to bake a cake for my parents last week. Some days call for a particular kind of celebration, especially when there is no way Hallmark could market an appropriate card for the occasion, and my parents had a reason to rejoice. In their honor, I decided to bake a cake.

I'm not your average baker. I'm worse. I've made some disasters in my time, some food chemistry experiments gone bad, and some ugly but tasty treats. Looking to avoid this kind of issue and working to keep special occasions special (and the focus off the detritus from my oven), I've taken to (gasp!) purchasing desserts and only baking the cupcakes that I've practiced and mastered (using the famous Magnolia Bakery recipe, give or take). The decision to bake a cake wasn't one made lightly.

I'm not shy about sharing my flaws and foibles with you. As readers go, I've found you to be very kind and understanding, so I know you'll recognize my challenge in having made up my mind to bake, recognizing that I am both a remarkably poor baker and a perfectionist! The idea of ruining another cake, when a cake was so very necessary, was almost enough to make me reconsider but pigheadedness resolve won the round and I baked. I made a chocolate cake.

As it turns out, the baking part wasn't so bad. The kids helped, and it was fun.

Assembling the layers and frosting the thing nearly pushed me over the edge.

I was this close (imagine the thumb and forefinger about a half centimeter apart) to putting out a distress call to my pal Ivy Brown because not only do her words give me confidence, I also believe in her ability to put a cake together better than my own. (Had I known my girlfriends L and Liz had graduated basic cake decorating classes, I'd have considered calling them, too.) But as stubborn and determined as I am, I forged through alone.

I. Baked. A. Cake.

And they loved it.

It was exactly what I wanted to make - a thoughtful gesture that was also delicious.

* * *

I'm learning some things about myself as I age mature, and one talent I'm cultivating is getting over myself, hurdling past my insecurities, fears and doubts simply by doing exactly what I want to do even if it means asking for help and possibly making mistakes. Baking a cake, knowing well that its perfect execution didn't matter nearly as much as the perfect thought behind it, was also a metaphor.

* * *

P.S. Another important life lesson I've learned: doubling the recipe for buttercream frosting enables one to hide a multitude of sins on a less than perfect cake.

Easy Vanilla Bean Buttercream (adapted from Cook's Illustrated March/April 2005)

Makes about 1 1/2 cups, enough to frost 12 cupcakes (but barely enough to cover two layer cakes)

10 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups (5 ounces) confectioners' sugar
Pinch table salt
1 tablespoon heavy cream

In standing mixer fitted with whisk attachment, beat butter at medium-high speed until smooth, about 20 seconds. Beat in vanilla extract at medium speed to combine, about 15 seconds. Add confectioners' sugar and salt; beat at medium-low speed until most of sugar is moistened, about 45 seconds. Scrape down bowl and beat at medium speed until mixture is fully combined, about 15 seconds; scrape bowl again, add heavy cream and beat at medium speed until incorporated, about 10 seconds, then increase speed to medium-high and beat until fluffy, about 4 minutes, scraping down bowl once or twice more. Add drops of food coloring to create the desired pastry palette.

Idealism

Today, I went to work early to attend a meeting for one of the projects I am managing. We had called together all the heavy hitters to address the setbacks and slowing that has taken us off track. My job is to make sure the project completes on time and under budget. The way things are going, it seems unlikely to impossible, but I remain hopeful.

As the important and interested parties parted, I gathered my notes and files and asked one of our consultants a nagging question: Can we do this?

She responded politically: Ideally, she said, if everything goes well, we can meet our schedule.

Good, I replied. Because we're in the business of "ideally."

* * *

In my paid hours of the week, I work with a non-profit organization that serves mentally ill and homeless adults. Prior to my professional hiatus, I oversaw the agency's non-clinical operations, which included job training, the provision of two daily hot meals, and the administration of social and recreational classes, all with the goal of helping the people we serve to reintegrate into the community. Upon my return, I have worked in an entirely different capacity and towards more external pursuits; instead of providing and guiding direct service, my experience is now used in ways that remind our community, donors, and partners of why we do what we do.

I can see past the red tape, the bureaucracy, the seemingly arbitrary requirements and deadlines, because at the end of the day, when it does work out, a handful of people who have nowhere else to go will have a home of their own.

There are many deserving individuals, communities and causes to serve, and this one presents unique challenges. Mental illness, especially when combined with homelessness and substance addiction, is not a glamorous cause. The days are not easy for our staff or our clients, their problems are not quickly or easily solved. Sometimes the best work that is done is to maintain the status quo, and stability is seen as progress.

I share this not to solicit funds, empathy or awareness, but to explain why I remain an optimist.

If we have hope, we have something. "Ideally" is at least a place to start.

Very Good Advice

In the sixth grade, I played (a very brunette) Alice in Wonderland in my school's musical of the same name. I will not elaborate here on the histrionics I employed in my pursuit of the part, though that is the part I remember most about it - not the flowers at curtain call, I remember the process of getting to the role I wanted.

Coming in close second in the memory of this experience is a song. My part (and you'll excuse me for a moment while I stumble over the word "my," for the part was not awarded to me, but to a classmate who graciously offered to share the part since there were two performances and she was a kind child while I tended towards, shall we say, petty and selfish, and did I already mention that I threw a fit when I wasn't selected for the role?) included a solo performance of a number called Very Good Advice.

I practiced intently, rehearsing diligently in front of the bathroom mirror to such an extent that I find, now twenty-five years later, the words are still seared upon my memory.

I give myself very good advice
But I very seldom follow it
That explains the trouble that I'm always in

Be patient, is very good advice
But the waiting makes me curious
And I'd love the change
Should something strange begin
...
I give myself very good advice,
But I very seldom follow it,
Will I ever learn to do the things I should?
Will I ever learn to do the things I should?

Music and Lyrics by Sammy Fain and Bob Hilliard

* * *

I will offer no false modesty. There are skills I have, gifts even, that are mine uniquely, that make me who I am. I am a good listener. I am highly resourceful. I am an analytical problem solver who will work with people to find the most meaningful outcomes to meet their intentions. I am intuitive and insightful. I am able to help others recognize their own talents and roadblocks. I have gone so far as to create a career around this toolbox of mine that I have been able to revive after spending my children's first years at home with them.

I also happen to give very good advice.

But I very seldom follow it.

I have been inching towards doing something new to combine all these things, and I am scared.

There. I've said it. I am afraid.

That explains the trouble that I'm always in.

I am trying not to let my overwhelming sense of perfectionism get in the way of my progress (and no, it's still not the good kind of perfectionism that would have me obsessively checking off my lists to accomplish every tiny milestone getting me that much closer to my goal that much faster), though I know it is. Perfectionism is a hard habit to break, even after becoming a mother and throwing it all in the air. I know that if I decided exactly what it was I needed to do, I would find a way to do it and be done, deciding that good enough is. But I am stuck in wanting to have every piece of it lined up just so before I feel I can confidently advance. There is safety in doing the same.

Be patient, is very good advice/But the waiting makes me curious.

I am undeniably patient (add that to my list of qualifications), maybe too much if that's possible. When it comes to my big little plan, I'm afraid if I sit on it too long I will find myself doing something else, something more known and tangible to avoid the risk. Yet every time I think of not following through, I shake it off. In every piece of me, I believe my idea is something worth doing and something both relevant and timely. I'm afraid if I don't do it, a world of opportunity would be missed.

(Did you notice how I keep saying afraid? I do.)

And I'd love the change/Should something strange begin

In my head, my voice still waivers on that last note.

Will I ever learn to do the things I should?