No Julia Child

So I went to my cooking class last night at the Natural Gourmet Institute.  The class was Easy Breezy Summer Entertaining.  I thought it was terrific.  However, you not looking at the next Julia Child.

You are looking at -- or reading about -- someone who never, ever cooks.  I mean ever.  I used to.  Sort of. Like spaghetti.  Maybe fish in the plainest sense.  Tacos.  The basics.  I have even cooked Thanksgiving dinner with the help of 86 calls to my mother over the course of doing so.  But something happens when you move to New York, which I did eleven years ago, and live alone.  It is very easy to eat out or pop something in the microwave.  Kashi microwave dinners are healthy, right?

The odd thing is, I have ordered in probably 2 or 3 times in the eleven years I have lived here.  Now that is weird.  I guess I like to get out of my apartment.  I don't know.

Anyway, the Easy Breezy was terrific.  We each had a partner and cooked two recipes.  The chef/teacher was an absolute master as keeping us all under control, getting us to do our recipes in time, helping us and aiding us in not cutting off any fingers.  I must admit, when we were left to our own devices to just "start", I almost panicked.  But there were many wonderful staff members who were graduates or students of the Institute who helped us with our questions.  We didn't have to clean up either.  That sort of makes things fabulous.

We managed to pull off a lovely meal and the recipes were truly delicious.  It would have been fun to take a french cooking class to go along with my french language classes, but french cooking sounds very difficult for a beginner.  These were indeed easy.  Who knows, maybe I will prepare a strawberry yogurt gazpacho soup.  I have a blender in my kitchen cabinet that I have never opened and I don't even have to cook it. . .  

J'aime le français

So, I have been in my french class for a month.  I love it!  I find it very difficult to learn a new language with absolutely no former knowledge, but it's fun.  I like how our teacher forces us to speak in french, regardless of what we have to say or what question we want to ask.  I am also surprised at how nervous I get when it is my turn to speak.  I am 40 years old.  We are not being tested.  I took this class for fun, for heaven's sake.

Our teacher is the most patient person on the earth.  She corrects everyone of us, over and over again.  Without irritation or impatience.  Seriously, you should here us in there.  You are not supposed to pronounce the "s" at the end of a lot of French words and we -- 4 weeks in -- are still pronouncing "s's" where they do not belong.  

I am a repetitive learner, so I have Rosetta Stone on my computer and iPod, other French downloads on my iPod, grammar workbooks, dictionaries, etc.  I have it coming from all angles.  This is definitely going to take a while.  But I am really enjoying it.  I enjoy the progress.  I enjoy a different way to communicate.

Let's see what I think of my cooking class tonight. . .

Down Days

Days like these, days that aren't fabulous, are not necessarily a result of quitting my job.  Something I need to remember.  Just because my day is not wonderful does not mean that I made a bad choice.  I could -- and would -- have had this day if I continued to work.

As a matter of fact, I would have had many, many more not so great days.  It is sort of interesting to me how I sometimes need a reference point.  How things are relative.  How things -- good things -- become normal.  I had a lot of back pain when I worked.  I saw a lot of doctors, went to physical therapy, did core work, etc. to get it back to a place of acceptable.  People kept asking how it was.  I kept saying, "it's okay", not realizing how improved it actually was.  Until the past two days, when I had a little setback.  Wow.  It really hurt.  I forgot how bad it was.  And how much it improved.

I have to have days like these.  Otherwise, I cannot appreciate how good I have it without the valleys.   The good news is, this too shall pass.  Learned that one from my Mom.  

Goals

In light of quitting my job, I am not sure how I feel about the latest article posted on a blog I occasionally read, Zen Habits.  Leo Babauta wrote a post "The Best Goal is No Goal".  He begins by describing the ingrained notion that without set goals, we will get nowhere.  Yes, I agree with that.  He then proposes that without goals, you can wander where you never intended.  Let go.  Discover new things.  Well, yes.  I agree with that, too.

He explains that with goal setting, you are essentially setting yourself up to fail a lot of the time.  Or, at least you are pushing yourself to do things you don't have a passion for.  Yep, I agree with that.

In a way, during this post-job time, I have no goals.  I have a big goal to create a career.  But not mini-goals.  I am doing things I want to do.   Explore what I want to do.  One of my biggest fears about quitting was that I would sit around watching t.v. eating bon bons.  Looks like that is not happening.  Honestly, I did not sit down with pen and paper to decide what I would accomplish when.  I am just letting it happen.

Maybe I have already bought into this theory.  But it sounds entirely scary.  In theory, like Babauta says, it is a difficult one to buy into.  

Heartbreak

Have you ever had to make a decision based upon what is better for someone else?  And try to take your emotions out of it completely?  Yeah, it's a tough thing to do.

Oscar has been having a difficult time adjusting to living in New York City.  It just keeps getting worse and worse.  After working with Oscar, passing time, seeing how much better he does at my Mom's house in suburban New Jersey, a lot of agonizing and a long, in-depth conversation with a well known dog trainer in NYC, I have decided to do what is best for Oscar and re-home him.  The trauma of finding another home for him will be outweighed by the long-term, everyday trauma of him living his life in NYC  and being scared witless.  It's really sad to see.

I have been horribly upset over deciding what to do.  It makes me feel like I am letting him down.  Like I took on a responsibility and now I cannot fulfill it.  Like I am a failure.  But I will fail Oscar if I keep him.  He will eventually be entirely miserable with us, unless I keep him in my 750 square foot apartment twenty four hours a day.  He deserves better than that.

Cooking Amendment

I want to take a cooking class.  Tonight seems too soon, though.  I signed up for a cooking class on Friday.  I need a little warming up to the idea!  

Cooking!

Cooking, hurrah!  I am getting myself excited.  I am going to take a cooking class tonight.  I don't like to cook.  But I would like to try to learn.  I am trying to be open.  I want to do things that are something other than appealing and see what happens.  I get myself into such ruts that I convince myself that I just "am" a certain way.  When in reality, there is a chance I might have more facets.

Why cooking?  Right now, I get hungry, I eat.  I don't cook what I eat.  I go out to eat, grab something from the bodega (corner store), deli, something I bought at the grocery store I can easily prepare, etc.  No fanfare, it serves a purpose.  I love a good meal, but there really is no ceremony.

When I think about people who cook, they have passion.  They chop, they stir, they knead, they roll.  They look like they enjoy it.  They are focused on something.  They are involved.  They are being creative, learning, and sometimes putting love into what they do.

Cooking will not create a passion for me.  It might, however, get me interested in investing some time and energy in being creative.  Being productive.  A job well done.  Eating something that is good for me made by me.  Just trying something else during this time off outside my normal zone that is different.  

Upstate

It is amazing what 24 hours out of New York City can do.  I went to a friend's house in upstate NY for literally 24 hours this weekend and feel like I went away for a week.  It was a fifty-five minute drive.  No traffic there or back.  Definitely not like the torture ride to Boston last weekend.

It was so green and beautiful.  Yesterday was apparently 97 degrees out, but they had a pool and with all of the shade trees, you couldn't tell unless you were baking out in the sun.  We made a gigantic dinner on the grill of chicken, salmon, steak and sausage.  A couple of us went to a local farmer's market and picked up corn, mixed berry cobbler and banana oatmeal bars with chocolate chunks.  It doesn't get much better than that.

We got a very descriptive demonstration on how to grill the corn.  Cut off both ends of the corn and take off the outer husks.    It should not be soaked in water.  Or milk.  Grill each side seven minutes each.  And the guy almost leapt over the table and grabbed the ear of corn when I started pulling down the husk to check out the one I wanted. That was a big no-no.  There would be no checking out the corn.  You just took the number of ears you wanted and paid for them.  Also, there was a certain way to put them in the bag.  Silks end first.  Or else the bag ripped.  Serious stuff.  Which it should be -- the corn was dee-lish-us.

Everyone slept super late and I got up at my usual early hour.  I went for an early run and it was gorgeous.  I jumped in the pool after with not a soul around.  The early morning light, all the space, air and trees to myself to just be peaceful and calm.  Weekend with amazingly wonderful friends.  It was heaven.    

Travel

Yesterday I posted about being ambivalent about travel during my time off.  A friend of mine sent me a link to a site called Globetrooper.  When I opened the link, I was immediately inspired to travel.  Whether or not I will actually pull the trigger is another story.  Fear (of spending my money), I bet, is what is keeping me from moving this forward.

The site is so amazingly well put together.  It helps you create a trip.  Imagine a trip.  Talk to others about a trip.  Share your own trip.  I will spend some time on it. . .

Choices

I have to make choices about what I spend my money on considering I do not have an income.  I have to pay my rent, feed myself, feed the dogs, etc.  When I quit my job, one of the things I planned to do was travel.  I wanted to take a couple of months off to do a large trip to Southeast Asia in the winter.  During this time, I have taken short trips:  Austin in May, the Hamptons in June, and Boston in July.  I have only take short trips because the extended trip has not felt right.  A big adventure surely sounded good before I quit.  Isn't that what you are supposed to do when you leave a job and are trying to figure things out?  But now without an income, it feels very scary.

I got online yesterday morning and read the front page of the New York Times.  An article about rooftop bars received star billing.  Right up there with the rest of the news about the world.  Manhattan's Rooftop Bars:  Heaven's Gates.  An amusing article and apropos of most of New York:  you have to find out how it works in order to participate.  The article also points out it's up to you to decide if they are heaven's or hell's gates.  But I digress.

My point is that I chose to quit my job.  Therefore, I cannot afford all the things I once did, including drinking my way to the perfect rooftop bar.  They are indeed fun to find.  As the article describes, instead of velvet ropes, they sometimes have velvet barricades.  Of course, I want things I cannot have, so seeking it out has a certain thrill for me.  Not to mention, space, warmth and open air is extremely limited in NY and comes at a high price.

Well, at least space, warmth and open air with a drink in your hand surrounded by gorgeous people.  New York offers other opportunities.  Central Park is the free option.  Which is what I now choose.  It is a glorious option.  And it leaves change in my pocket, perhaps for a trip. . .    

Happy (blah, blah, blah)

In short, in trying to figure out what my next career will be, I am also trying to wind my way to happy.  Lots of wonderful people have recommended or given me books to read in that pursuit.  Someone gave me Dan Baker's What Happy People Know.

I have to admit, I did not pick it up for a while.  There are a lot of books out there on being happy.  Really, how was someone going to tell me to be happy?  It is a bright yellow book.  Of course, the color people associate with being happy.  How obvious.  It has someone doing a cartwheel on the front.  Ugh.  I don't think I am grumpy.  But this was just a little too in-your-face for me to pick up and take seriously.

What I did not recognize was the rest of the title:  How The New Science Of Happiness Can Change Your Life For The Better.  I am a secret science geek.  Not a large one.  A very small, mild one.  But I like science.  And I particularly like when science supports something in the realm of psychology and anything having to do with my behavior.  Dr. Baker has his Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology and more interesting to me, he is a Post Doctoral Fellow in Medical Psychology.  According to the Academy of Medical Psychology, the practice "involves an awareness of and training of and training in medical, psychological, and social factors."  The practice is comprehensive.  It is real and takes into account people's minds, bodies and lives.  

I have only started the book, but what makes tremendous sense to me is how Dr. Baker starts off.  Humans are hardwired for a fear excessive for modern living.  We humans evolved to be afraid of and run from large animals, fight to stay alive, turn on a fear to save ourselves.  A fear that is in excess of what we need for the world today, but which still exists.  Now, it is too much for our bodies, our hearts, our souls.  A component in finding happiness is overcoming our instinctual fear and finding a balance.  To begin making decisions based on reasons other than fear.

It is the very beginning of the book, and fear is not the basis of the book.  But the science of fear's evolution -- or lack of its dissipation -- is extremely compelling to me in the happiness scheme.  I think I will keep reading this book.

Blog Interrupted

I was having a difficult time seeing the forest through the trees yesterday.  I was like, "what the *%#* am I doing?"  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I quit my job almost FOUR months ago and I am doing nothing. What am I waiting for?  A woman to walk into Starbucks and tell me my future?

It's not true that I am doing nothing.  And quite frankly, a little bit of nothing during this time is good.  Yet the nothingness can creep up and blindside me.  Sometimes I do what I believe I should be doing to move the ball forward.  Sometimes I find it difficult to do the work and find out who I am.

Yesterday, I was reading the career section of the New York Times.  Phyllis Korkki wrote a great article "The True Calling That Wasn't".  This was the article I was reading when the woman walked into Starbucks and wanted to tell me my future -- for a price.  (I am sure she would have noticed what I was reading on my computer, told me I was going to find my dream career, and voila!  My $50 dollar reading, spot on!)  The Korkki article seemed to describe my situation exactly.

Korkki quotes Robert I. Sutton, a professor and organizational psychologist at Stanford as saying (emphasis mine), "[u]nhappiness with your career choice goes to the root of your identity and your sense of authenticity".  Barbara Safani also advises that people may not like who they work for, rather than not like what they do.

I think Sutton's point is an important one for me.  Part of this process is finding out what makes me tick.  What am I about?  How well do I know myself?  He also makes another important point:  "work is overrated."  Work is work.  A new career won't be an amazing cure-all.  I am just looking for a more fulfilling way to make a living.  But the process of getting there is just as important.    

Purple, Turquoise and Silver

So I was sitting in Starbucks just about to begin writing my post.  A wiry older woman about 5'1" with dark hair to her shoulders, a deep raspy voice and smoke on her breath walks right up to me.  She leans over and tells me in a low voice that she is so overwhelmed by my aura that she just had to come up and talk to me.  She tells me her name, that she is of a tribe whose name I now cannot remember and asks to sit down next to me.  I say sure.  

She takes out a purple crystal the size of a walnut and tells me my colors are purple, turquoise and silver.  She tells me I have a power on my left side and she can feel it as she is sitting next to me.  She asks me if I dream in color; whether I dream often.  I tell her in color.  I dream sometimes.  She tells me that she has a gift to read people's futures.  It is her holiday and it only comes once a year that she is able to do this.  

 I cannot imagine what this woman is going to say next.  

My initial reaction to someone approaching me in New York is they want something.  They want money.  Then I thought she was another patron of the shop and wanted me to watch her computer.  Then she started speaking and I just thought she was nuts.  After she said a few sentences, I desperately wanted to believe her.  I wanted her to tell me my future.  Was I going to find my calling soon?  What is it going to be?  Am I going to get out of the this neutral zone?  Then, I would realize, of course she is not going to tell me my future.  The woman wants money.  I considered asking her if she wanted money.  But I politely let her go on.  Maybe she really did have an answer for me. . .

My mind ping-ponged back and forth for the 4 or 5 minutes she sat next to me.  Maybe it was less.  My mind went back between unrealistic hope that this strange woman was actually going to give me insight into my future career and realizing the more literal possibility that she was a "reader" of some sort trying to get a few bucks out of me.  This is New York, after all.  I just checked my bag to make sure my wallet was still there.

When she asked for my hands and asked if I wanted a reading, I said "no, thank you."  That's when reality set in.  I was disappointed.  I am amused at myself.   That as an adult, I very much went back and forth between childish hopefulness and serious cynicism.  

She said "God bless you."  I said, "God bless you, too."  She said, "I'll definitely take that" and walked out.  

Do You MInd Talking About It?

So I am still in Boston.  As I mentioned, I used to live here.  One of my dear friends still lives here with her husband.  We went to dinner on Saturday night despite my friend's impending cold/flu and her husband swimming for two days for Swim Across America which raises funds for cancer research.  We went to the North End and it was de-lish.

In turn, we talked about things going on with ourselves.  My news, of course, was my recent walk-away from my job in April.  I started talking about it and my friend's husband asked if I minded talking about it.  Does everyone ask you about it?  Everyone definitely asks about it.  And no, I don't mind talking about it.  It helps, actually.  The more I talk about it, the more I can put a rope around a completely open-ended concept.  Around a big blob of an idea.  One that I am living and one that moves and does not necessarily move in a linear fashion.  Odd and sometimes uncomfortable.  But I am off the treadmill for sure.

I am curious to see what my reaction to New York will be when I return, speaking of treadmills.  I love New York for sure.  It can wear on you, however.  When I got to Boston, I remembered how livable it is.  Not as intense.  Not as exhausting.

The dogs seem to like it.

So much so, they did not even want me to post a blog.

Vacation is vacation.

Boston

Bridgette, Oscar and I left NYC for Boston yesterday.  We left at 2:00 p.m.  What should have been a three and a half hour trip took eight hours.  What an adventure!  While my dogs certainly can drive me crazy in other ways, I was thanking my lucky stars yesterday that they are good in the car.  They slept the entire way.

I suppose I should have left earlier in the day considering we left on a Friday.  But we left at 2:00.  We drove in 5 to 15 mile an hour traffic for four hours.  Yep.  Four hours.  I pulled over at one point to let the dogs out, let me out and to get a snack.  We got back in the car and drove another two hours.  I had to pull over again and let us out again and feed the dogs.

No sooner did we get back into the car did the sky turn completely black.  Granted, it was getting dark out, but it was as if someone turned out the lights.  Then the sky started lighting up.  There was clearly a lightening storm going on.  It was as if someone was turning the lights on and off.  On and off.  For 10 minutes this went on.  I felt like someone was telling us not to keep driving.  To go away.  Either that or beckoning us.  I was not quite sure which.  It was kind of bizarre.

Then the regular lightening came.  The zig zag through the air.  Then the rain.  The pouring down rain.  So hard that I could barely see.  I was following a truck and its lights.  At one point, I could barely see the truck's lights.  Then the truck got off the road and I had to follow a car that was going faster than I felt comfortable driving.  But I had to follow it.  If I did not follow it, I would be left driving in the rain with nothing to follow and was afraid I would drive off the road or into something.  So I had to put my trust in the car that was ahead of me that they could see better than I.  Why I thought they could see better, I don't know.  All I knew is that I didn't want to be on I-95 and not be able to see.  There were several accidents along the way.

I literally white knuckled it for an hour.

As an aside, I think cliches are amusing.  According to dictionary.com (I am not at home with my actual dictionary),  a cliche is:

a trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase, usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea, that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse, as sadder but wiser, or strong as an ox. 

I hate to use cliches, but often find myself using them.  Sometimes they are trite, but more often, have just lost their originality.  What someone once pointed out to me, is that what they are is true.  I am quite sure my knuckles were white.  I had to keep taking my hands off the wheel to get the blood back into my fingers because I was gripping the wheel so tightly.  


We made it here safely and the weather is gorgeous.  I used to live in Boston and am glad to be back.  It is a great town - a very livable city.  Next time, perhaps I will take the train!  


       

Purpose

So as I figure out what I want my next career to look like, I think I should serve some sort of purpose to my community.  But I am thinking that while that would be nice, it is not a necessity.  Serving a purpose -- contributing -- is something I can do everyday.  Within the confines of my "career" or outside.  Or both.  I do not need to wait until my career is fully formed.  That is living in the future.  I can do something now.  Easily.

I am definitely a creature of habit.  I love a routine.  And I love the people who are part of my daily routine.  The coffee guy.  The juice guy.  The people at the gym.  Etc.  Yesterday, I was chatting with one of these individuals as I regularly do.  I cannot vouch for what other jobs they may have had or do have.  Currently, they are in a service position in which I can see people complain to, are unhappy with and basically can be rude towards this person (this happens to many of us, no?)  This person is not in a position to argue back.

On occasion I have asked this person how she puts up with it.  How she has the most amazing attitude and she is the hardest worker of the bunch.  I have told her that more than once.  What I don't understand is how she withstands the poor attitudes of others and she herself is always upbeat.  I would not last a minute in her job.  But day in and day out, she brings a smile to my face and withstands the people that come in and out of her life.

Yesterday, she was leaving her job.  She came over to say goodbye.  Instead of being exasperated, complaining and having a heavy heart, she said, "I am heading out now.  I plan to go make three people laugh.  That's my job.  That's my purpose."

Seriously?  I would be running home with a scowl on my face, putting my air conditioning on and putting my feet up.  After a day she has, with the cranky people she deals with, she leaves the place with the intent to make three people laugh.  She is contributing to her community.  That has nothing to do with her career.

What am I contributing?
      

Two On, One Off

Being out of work has definitely had a positive impact on my back pain.  Not sitting at a desk all day and lowered stressed has reduced the pain.  This is by no means, however, the entire picture.  I have had an MRI and X-ray which indicate issues with my lumbar spine, hip and hamstring.  So, rickety as I may be getting, I do the things I need to do to take care of it.

Exercise has always been a part of my life.  (The word "exercise" showed up on a spelling test in grade school and I just couldn't get it right.  Stuck with me forever.  Weird.)  Injuries have come and go over my life time and I just modify my work out as appropriate to accommodate.  Such is true with my back this time around.

I could not seem to get back to running again.  I just kept feeling the pain after 3-5 minutes on the treadmill.  Then someone recommended that I run for 2 minutes and walk for 1, run for 2, walk for 1 and see what happens.  I had heard that before, but the idea of walking to someone who runs seems so outlandish.  It is so difficult to pull back.  Walking in the grand scheme of things is fine.  But walking to achieve a "run"seemed so .... unsatisfying and not real.

I wound up trying it out and it seems to have worked.  In addition to all the other therapies, modifications and exercises I am doing, it has improved my back pain and allowed me to get back to running.

What I have learned is this:  First, I do things suggested by people I respect and who have knowledge.  The person who made this particular suggestion has done eleven Ironmans (a triathlon consisting of a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike ride and a marathon -- 26 miles -- completed without a break).  Which suggests to me when we want to teach our kids something or send a message to those who need help, it may serve us well to send it through someone they look up to.  Second, it is important for me to keep in mind the modified approach.  Two on, one off.  Especially now.  Charging ahead will not get me to where I want to be.  As much as I want to be productive and figure out immediately what I want my next career to look like, I still want and need to take some time to literally and figuratively tend to the back pain.
   

Live Life

I haven't figured it out yet.  What I want to do with the rest of my life.  Some days it makes me feel anxious.  Some days I am okay with it.  What I do know is that I am glad I made the move to begin to figure it out.  Our lives are shockingly short.

We love you and will miss you, B.

Good Dog

Volunteer work with the Good Dog Foundation is beginning!  Bridgette's application to be a therapy dog was approved, then she passed her evaluation.  Now, the actual training to be a therapy dog begins.  Saturday was our first training class.  We had a wonderful trainer and were in the room with six other dogs and their owners.  We went through a lot of information about therapy animals and worked on the basics of the dogs relaxing in strange environments, being calm in a sitting position and staying by our side.


No surprise, but the work is our responsibility as owners.  Dogs only want to please and it is up to us to direct them and show them what we want.  Often times, we have no idea what signals we are giving them even though we think we are.  I know I am often thinking "Why can't my dog just understand what I am thinking?" when I am usually not showing her what to do.  Sort of reminds me where some of my communication issues with humans comes into play. . .

We have lots of homework and learning opportunities abound.  Dogs are teachable, regardless of age.  Bridgette is seven years old and she has been in my life for less than a year.

Yet she picks things up quickly -- sit, stay, come -- particularly when there are treats to be had!  I just need to be willing to put in the work.

She will be continually evaluated throughout her classes.  There is no "test" at the end.  Her success depends on my commitment to the work we do together.  I am looking forward to it!

Hipsters, Hustlers and Handball Players

One thing I wanted to do with my time off from work is get to some museums.  A friend and I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  

It was a gorgeous day and we spent some time hanging out chatting on the steps first.  We sat down between the two banisters (who says banisters these days?  This definitely shows my age.) you see in this picture but a museum guy shooed us away.  Then we sat on the ledge at the top but I thought we would get shooed away again.  My friend explained that it was just the center steps that needed to be clear.    


We visited the American Woman exhibit.  It was an exhibit of dress, showing how women were perceived and how that affects women today.  Interesting, but we could not take pictures.  


We saw Leon Levinstein's Hipsters, Hustlers and Handball Players photography exhibit.  Black and white photos in which Leon "used his superb sense of composition to frame the faces, flesh, poses, and movements of his fellow city dwellers in their myriad guises: sunbathers, young couples, children, businessmen, beggars, prostitutes, proselytizers, society ladies, and characters of all stripes."  It was a terrific exhibit.  We could not take pictures in there either.  Interestingly, despite my recent photography class, it was my friend's suggestion we go in there.  


An Italian Journey was an exhibit full of intricate drawings of pen, chalk, washes, etc.  As a layperson, I could not appreciate the works.  Some woman was looking at them with a magnifying glass.  Enough said.


Oddly, it was in the Picasso exhibit where we could take pictures.  

People were flashing cameras everywhere.

As was I. 

It felt like I was getting away with something.  Despite the fact that I do not have an appreciation for the art, nor do I like it.  Only that he is one of the most famous artists in the world.

It was a wonderful exhibit, however, just to see so many works by such a world-renowned artist in one room.  Quite amazing.

We left and were starving so had a pretzel, hot dog and couple of sodas.  We sat on the steps to eat and listen to a guy play the sax.  I thought we were going to get shooed away again.  My friend explained -- again -- that it was the middle steps we could not sit on.  I couldn't seem to hold on to that concept.

We left the museum to walk through Central Park.  Remembering that we needed to enjoy our moment.  That this was what we had -- not the past nor the future.  We walked into the park and came across people making these gigantic bubbles.  

  

We hung out and watched for a while before setting out to walk around and then going to have some dinner at an outside cafe.  

It was a great day.   

Tuning In

You know when you buy a new car, (or if you live in NY, a new pair of shoes) you spot that new purchase everywhere? It seems that is happening to me with people who are making changes in their careers and lives.  I keep bumping into people who are choosing to do what they love.  Either in addition to or in place of their current careers.  I guess I just find my ears perking up to these people more than ever before because I want to know (1) how they found it, and (2) how they are making it work.

It seems time and time again, it is not a prescribed method.  I do find, however, that it is people doing what they love, staying open to opportunity with a willingness to give up a perceived and/or actual security.

As an aside, I am not proposing that everyone do what they love.  The world wouldn't work that way.  Doing what one loves for a living is not what makes everyone happy or click.  As I always state, this is my story and what works for me.

So I will keep tuning in to the people who have paved the road before me.  They know something I do not.  Not yet, anyway.      

Hotter, Hottest

Yesterday was the hottest day of the year.  According to the news, it felt like 107 degrees.  I put Oscar in daycare and didn't pick him up until 8:00 at night.  He needed some exercise and he was not going to get it in my apartment.  I couldn't walk Bridgette on the street.  The pavement was too hot.  I literally picked her up and carried her to the shade.  When I was in a taxi, I was watching the people on the street -- especially the men in wool suits -- waiting for someone to just tip over.  I am sure they did and I just did not see it.

At one point, I was inside, chipping away at the shape of my next career.  I was doing an exercise in a book focused on skills.  What skills I have and like to use.  It is difficult to describe the exercise without it sounding it like a complete idiotic waste of time.  But I found it quite useful because it was so exhaustive.  Problem was, I found it difficult to complete because it was asking for examples of goals I achieved which I had fun doing.  It wasn't the skills part that was difficult.  It was the fun part.  It asked for seven.  I couldn't think of seven goals I achieved which I had fun doing.  I found that troubling.  In one of two ways.  Either I was having a memory problem.  Or I just did not have seven accounts of achieving goals which were fun.  Hmmm.

I think I need to be less serious.  There should be more fun.  Laughter.  We get one time around.  

 

Hot

It's hot in New York City.  It gets us all.  Employed, unemployed, people, dogs, cats.  I like the hot weather, but this is a bit much.  Despite this hot weather, I have to cart around a sweater in my bag because every interior space in NYC is air conditioned to about 55 degrees Fahrenheit.  So I go through the day, sweater on, sweater off.  Sweater on, sweater off.

When I was working two jobs ago, I had to buy a space heater because my office was so cold from air conditioning.  Try buying a space heater in the dead of summer.  I had to buy it online.

I am sure my dogs are wondering what is going on.  Bridgette cannot make it more than halfway down the block.  I have to turn around and drop her back off before Oscar and I take a real walk.  As soon as we get into the lobby, Bridgette sprawls out on all fours to lay on the cool tile.  We patiently wait for her while she gets her body temperature down to where it needs to be.  My apartment is barely tolerable since I live above a food establishment's kitchen.  My kitchen floor is hot -- not warm -- to the touch.  A bit counterproductive to cooling one's apartment.  All I can say is I am grateful I even have air conditioning. . .

The Bike

One of the things I wanted to do post-quitting was get a bike.  I have been hemming and hawing because I have not the faintest idea what kind of bike I want.  I know there are your cruisers, mountain bikes, hybrids, road bikes, etc.  My problem is what will I want long term.

I had a mountain bike once.  When I lived in San Francisco in 2004.  It was a very scary experience.  My boyfriend at the time took me on a non-beginner's hill.  I had not yet adjusted to the clipless pedals.  I was on a hill so steep I could not pedal.  I needed to put my foot on the ground to balance so I would not fall over.  However, snapping my foot out of the clipless pedals was not yet second nature and I could not yank my foot off the pedal.  A sheer panic moment.  I fell over.  Not so bad.  The bad part came when we were doing downhill and I hit a gulley on the side of the road and literally went head over heels. I landed in the gulley with my head heading towards the bottom of the hill and my feet towards the top.  I did not go mountain biking too many more times.

So I really am deciding between the hybrid and mountain bike.  A hybrid is fine.  Those who have hybrids say this is the best because the tires are bigger than a road bike and spills are less likely.  Those who ride long distances, however, say I will eventually want a road bike if I ever plan to ride any significant number of miles.

I went on line to check out bikes stores.  Three on the Upper West Side in Manhattan had good and bad reviews.  I went to all three.  I hate feeling like a sitting duck walking in knowing they have all the information and I have none.  I poked around.  Went online after I visited their stores to do more research.  Luckily my limited budget narrows my choices significantly.  When my choices are limited, I do best.  Next step is to actually get on some bikes at the stores and see how they ride and what I like.  At least for once in my life, I did not purchase the first bike I saw. . .

Blue Sky

I was worried I had Lyme Disease.  This would be from my tick adventure to Long Island a few weeks ago.  I couldn't bear to call the title of this post "Lyme Disease".  So I looked out the window, saw how blue the sky was, and decided to call it "Blue Sky" instead.  

I have been so tired for about a week.  Super tired.  No more bright-eyed and bushy tailed at 5:30 a.m.  Tired and cranky at 5:30 a.m.  I took two naps yesterday (I rarely nap)!  I got up, brought the dogs out and came home and went back to bed.  Well, I took a 2 hour nap on the couch.  I cannot bear to get back into bed.  It makes me feels nervous.  Like I will never be able to get out of the bed again if I get back into it.  As if I will stay there for days.  

So the dogs and I napped on the couch.  Then we went about our day.  I fell back asleep on the couch at 4:00 again for another half hour until someone called.  I don't know how long I would have slept.  Today, I had to drink all sorts of coffee just to make it to 3:30 p.m.  

Fatigue is such a general symptom of all sorts of maladies.  Normally, I would not go to a doctor for such nonsense.  Normally, I have to be pretty bad off to see the doctor.  But this napping stuff is for the birds. I feel as if I am walking through pea soup.  I could attribute it to the weather, but the past couple of days have been down right cold.

Then last night I thought, "Wait!  I removed at least 10 ticks from my skin (and probably 200 from my dogs) 3 weeks ago."  So I rushed to Google "symptoms of Lyme Disease".  No, I did not have the telltale bulls eye on my skin anywhere.  But that happens in only half of those affected.  Number one symptom?  Fatigue!  Of course it is Fourth of July weekend.  Not a doctor's appointment to be had.  Luckily, my doctor was on call.  The answering service paged him and he answered immediately.  He told me it was very unlikely I had Lyme Disease (I did not have a high fever or aches all over my body), but to come in and see him anyway for the fatigue.  He would also do a titer of my blood for antibodies to the ticks.  

What did I learn from this?  I am glad I don't usually get excited over things like this because it's usually nothing.  But if I am concerned, I am glad I found out a way to take care of it instead of fretting about it until Tuesday. 

The sky is still blue!  Time to go out and enjoy it!   

Dreams

I had very vivid dreams last night.  In one dream, my apartment was leaking water through my ceiling in my bedroom onto my bed and I forgot to let my landlord know about it.  I came home later that day and of course it was worse and it was leaking in the living room as well.

In my other dream, I posted something bad about someone in my blog.  I was still working at the time and a colleague came in to say something about it.  I was shocked.  I couldn't recall saying anything off color.  She said it definitely was.  I racked my brain about it, but still couldn't see it.

I love dreams.  I find it amazing how we can remember them, if at all, much more clearly when we immediately wake up.  They fade the longer we are awake.  I don't know much about dream interpretation, but can't help but think the first is about knowing in the back of my mind, I need to figure out my path.  As patient as I am trying to be, I cannot help but want to race ahead and wake up, self-made career in hand.  If I were going to go into a job, I think I might be ready to do that.  I am, however, thinking my path will be non-traditional and unlike what I previously lived (corporate America).

The second dream just reminds me that life is filled with personal perception.  We all have our own.  We are all entitled to our own perception.  Because we are not aware of another's view, this is often where we can get our wires crossed.  Particularly on e-mail, blog posts, Facebook, etc.  I am learning the value of the phone, but even more, the value of meeting in-person.  Of course this is not always possible, but it is possible more than we give allowance for.

The Big 4-0

Some could say that quitting my job was a mid-life crisis (although we live longer now, so I am thinking mid-life is more around 45 or 50.  But I digress).  I like to view it more as a fork in the road.  As I approached the age of 40 (I turned 40 yesterday), I started to look at my life, and my options.  I saw there were two:  keep on the road in front of me or take the road covered over with grass.  The road without a defined path.

So here I am on the undefined path.  Previously, I did not associate my age with my decision because age doesn't really come into play with many things I do.  It is just a number, after all.  However, there is something to be said for the close of a decade.  And the beginning of a new one.

Which is exactly how I see this.  The beginning of a new phase.  A new life.  Scared?  Hell yeah. I just keep getting out there, talking to people, exploring the world.  Nothing will drop into my lap.  I have to create what will be mine.  Little by little, it will come together.