In which they finally get me

I realize I've been hinting about the awesomeness of my part-time job for a while now. The thing is this: I don't know how to write it so it's not just gushy, or self-promotional.

But I'll share the basics:

I wanted more money, so I started selling lia sophia jewelry. If you don't already know lia sophia, it's a direct sales company. So I'm doing what you may know better as Tupperware parties, but I sell jewelry.

The child who is now my very excellent manager (side note: I have often had two jobs at a time, but I have NEVER had two good bosses at a time. This is like a little miracle) tried to recruit me for a while before I caved. Selling jewelry just didn't seem like a thing my cynical dyke patriarchy-fighting sometimes-Commmunist self would do, you know? But, um. Neither did working for a business newspaper. Neither did taking the plunge into marketing. I got into the business newspaper because I liked the people, and grew to really believe in the company. I got into the marketing because I believed in the organization, and grew to really like the people. I started lia sophia liking the people and the product, both, a lot.

So. Now, I go to parties, I meet new interesting people, I put my own cynical dyke patriarchy-fighting sometimes-Communist spin on things, as appropriate. I make a lot of jokes and am very honest about when the jewelry doesn't look as good as it does in the catalog. and the results are these:

1. I'm making money
2. I'm having a ball
3. I'm thinking about marketing in new ways, so it's helping my day job
4. I, who do not at all believe in the myth of the meritocracy, am finding for the first time in my life that working hard actually does get me further than not working hard
5. I am shocked to find that I want to have much more time to work harder at it. See 1, 2, and 4.

Yeah, see how that was all gushy and self-promoting? Sorry. I won't do a lot more of that. But it felt like necessary backstory to my next several posts, which will feel more like I wrote them. I am on my way to a conference of lia sophia advisors in Milwaukee. And holy cow, it is nuts already and I've barely left Baltimore.

Obviously, if you would like to buy jewelry, or host a really fun party with me to get a ton of free jewelry, or ask questions about selling jewelry, let me know in the comments. I can hook you up.

Remind me why

A good friend of mine is going through a hard time right now.

OK, a couple of them are, but this is only about the one.

And she sent me an e-mail today, with subject line: "Remind me why I should have self esteem?"

And I sent back a very honest, very sincere, but pretty long list of all of what's so great about her. Because, seriously, she's amazing. Like, just incredible, in so many ways.

I felt it would be inappropriate to make her crisis of self-doubt about me (or anyone else) in our e-mail exchange, but, well, this is my blog. It's already about me, and all of you.

I am not in crisis, I just like to say and be told nice things.

So, two assignments for the comments:

1. Remind me why I should have self-esteem. As always, comment anonymously if you must to prevent your spouses from knowing you're secretly in love with me.
2. Post the same question to your own electronic corner of the world (blog, Facebook, whatever) and give the link, so we (I) can go respond. If you're worried it looks like you're fishing for compliments, tell them bzzzzgrrrl made you do it.
   

When lady tennis-player jokes were still lady-German-swimmer jokes

I've been watching a lot of Mary Tyler Moore on DVD lately. It's a great show, and it holds up really amazingly well.

The one thing that often strikes me is the dated pop culture references. There's at least one reference per episode I have to look up. Recent examples include (how many do you know?):

• Eric Sevaride
• Chad Everett
• Dave Garroway
• Euell Gibbons
• Kathryn Kuhlman
• Veal Prince Orloff
• Baked Pears Alicia (and this one's not fair, because it appears to have been made up. I don't have time to look up imaginary food. Well, OK, yes, I do. But I can at least save you the trouble.)
  

But then, sometimes, there's a reference so dated it's hilarious — even though I don't have to look anything up. This was the best exchange of this evening:

Lou: What would happen if Billie Jean King married Bobby Riggs?
Mary: What?
Lou: Her husband would be very upset.
(Big laugh from Lou, little chuckle from Mary)
Lou: See? That was a joke that we could both enjoy. It had women's lib in it for you and sports in it for me.

What friendship looks like

Last weekend, friend and frequent* commenter Kay Bailey and I went to get manicures and pedicures. We don't see each other a lot, because I live 500 miles away, but we make up for it when we do see each other. I have been dieting and exercising (and losing weight) for a couple of months now, and therefore have gotten some nice compliments, which some would suggest I should be writing down as motivation when I want to throw in the towel. I am bad at that kind of journalling, but this is one I wanted to save for the ages.

As I was drying my nails, she poked at my upper arm and said, "Muscle tone!" And then she looked at me and said, "And hey, where's the rest of your arm?"



*OK, I just realized I had to go back to September to find a comment from her. But I can't really blame her; I did sort of fall off the blogging planet for a while there.

Country Mouse hits the city

I was back in D.C. this weekend. I had a blast. Such a blast that I should probably break the blastiness up into several posts, but will probably try to figure out how to cram it all in here.

Starting with this: I have been out of the D.C. area for two and a half years now, and people still ask me what I miss. At first, I didn't have great answers for that. I missed individual people: my friends, my colleagues, the D.C. branches of the family, friends' kids that I don't get to watch grow up. But there wasn't a lot else that I could think of (or admit).

This trip, I've been a little more reflective, and have come up with a few more things to miss about this particular big city:

• Freddie's.*
• Women's soccer.
• Not having to drive.**
• Steak salads at Rhodeside Grill.***
• Decent manicures and pedicures****
• Shoe repair places*****
  
• Mexican food

*It's a neighborhood bar. That's mixed (mostly GLB with a healthy dose of T and Q with some S). With karaoke. Plus, as my new friend (as of Friday night) pointed out, it's very clean. Someone really dusts in there. Highlights from this trip: The elderly gay man dancing his heart out to some lesbian singing "Don't Stop Believin';" a little internal fantasy of setting up a Craigslist Missed Connection romance between the two cutest women in the bar, one of whom was wearing a Red Sox cap and the other of whom was wearing a Yankees cap.
**Access to public transportation and taxis rules.
***So, so good. The keys are good meat and also having blue cheese crumbles but not blue cheese dressing. I should be able to do it at home. But I don't do it as well as Rhodeside does.
****Totally broke the old patterns this time: Black sparkly toenails! I am more attached to them than I would have expected.
*****I don't know why there are no cobblers in rural New England. Doesn't the very word, "cobbler," sound like the purview of small-town New England? The only one in town is known for taking literally months or years to do very simple repairs.

Confidence Rorschach test

So, over the last few years of singledom, I have put profiles up on a couple of dating sites. I'm not really using them lately, not really even checking them lately. But yesterday, I got this e-mail from one of them:

From: [Dating site] Summer Interns
Subject: [bzzzzgrrrl], we have data on your attractiveness


[image of me] = good-looking

[bzzzzgrrrl]:

We are very pleased to report that you are in the top half of [dating site]'s most attractive users. The scales recently tipped in your favor, and we thought you'd like to know.

How can we say this with confidence? We've tracked click-thrus on your photo and analyzed other people's reactions to you.

Your new elite status comes with one important privilege:
You will now see more attractive people in your match results.

This new status won't affect your actual match percentages, which are still based purely on your answers and desired match's answers. But the people we recommend will be more attractive. Also! You'll be shown to more attractive people in their match results.

Suddenly, the world is your oyster. Login now and reap the rewards. And, no, we didn't just send this email to everyone on [dating site]. Go ask an ugly friend and see.

So, if I'm reading this right, as of yesterday, based on my picture, I am just slightly more intriguing to other users than average.

Depending on the day, that could be really good news. Or, actually, not so much.

Question of the day

If you're single, what are your dealbreakers?

If you're not, you have a choice.

• What were your dealbreakers when you were single?
• Understanding that you are perfectly happy with your spouse/partner/significant other now, is there anything he or she does that would be a dealbreaker if you started dating someone now?

Comment anonymously if you must.

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

So, if I'm going to be blogging again, it seems like I should also update the ol' blogrolls.

And so I have.

If you read City Mouse Country at City Mouse Country, you've got these at your disposal already. But enough of you (especially you who've stuck around) read through readers that I thought I should post the list, too. If you have a blog you wish I'd add to the list, let me know in the comments.

Blogs I like, by people I know:

• Blog-O-Daria
• But I Digress...
• From Where I Sit
• Genny's Journal
• Go Baby Cafe Conversations
• Happy Living
• Hoefering
• Hopeful Pessimism
• I Peed on My Kid
• Locked out of the Teacher's Lounge
• MaternityLand
• Polka Dot Cottage
• Tran|Script

Blogs (etc.) I like, by people I don't (know, that is):

• 30 is the new 13
• Bitterly Books
• dooce
• Dorothy Surrenders
• Finally, A Feminism 101 Blog
• Five Star Friday
• Fugitivus
• Holy Prepuce!
• I Blame the Patriarchy
• Lifetime, Wow!
• Margaret and Helen
• Passive Aggressive Notes
• Promtacular!
• Regretsy
• She Just Walks Around With It
• Steam Me Up, Kid...
• The Creamery
• The Guild
• xkcd

Crises

I am not, myself, going through anything especially difficult right now.

But seemingly everyone else is.

Seriously, every conversation I have lately is about a personal catastrophe. And these are not people whining. These are big things: Surgeries, identity shifts, mystery ailments that require lots of tests, relationship trouble, hard parenting choices, loved ones' imminent deaths.

Not all of you pray, but some of you do. Would the ones who do be willing to lend a prayer, and the ones who don't be willing to lend a kind thought, for family and friends who need it right now?

If you're dealing with your own Big Bad right now, feel free to add it to the comments so we can think of you more specifically. Anonymity is OK by me; what else are the internets for?

Back to your regularly scheduled programming

So that's what me looking for joy for a week looks like. It was fun. I'll do it more often.

But, um.

This weekend, while I was out of town, my neighbors dug up some trees they assumed I would not want where they were.

They then took them away, as they were preparing to haul some brush themselves.

I had vague notions of transplanting said trees elsewhere.

I have never, ever, met these neighbors. Still.

What, if anything, would you do with this situation?

(For context, my history with these same neighbors here and here and here.)

Extracting joy, day 7 (Sunday): Thai(ish) turkey burgers

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Whimsy's explanation

There are to many great things to cover about this day, including that it's the beginning of two days in Gloucester, MA, with a couple of high school pals and their families, that I'm at the ocean for the first time in ages, that there are moon snails to watch and holes to dig and views of Boston and glorious sunsets and kids' eyes to observe things through.

But for simple joys?

The turkey burgers we had for dinner were just amazing, thanks to one of the high school friends and his wife. Ground turkey, fresh ginger, fish sauce, and scallions, all made into patties and grilled, topped with siracha mayonnaise, cilantro (for those of us who don't hate it), crushed peanuts...

Oh. My. God.

I kind of don't want to eat anything else ever again.

Extracting joy, day 6 (Saturday): Private air shows

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Whimsy's explanation

I've recently taken up running. Sometimes I say "again" when I say that, but actually, I've never really been a runner. I take it up every few years and give it up pretty quickly. That I've been doing it a week now is, if not unprecedented, at least unusual. I'm ramping up slowly, with a run-walk program that seems to be about right for my fitness level, and I'm doing it mostly with a friend (sometimes two), which keeps me accountable.

Saturday, though, I was on my own for running. I decided not to do the route I've been doing with my friend, and headed out to the airport, where there's a beautiful flat road that's closed to vehicle traffic during the weekends. It's a small airport, as you might expect, mostly for small planes. There aren't really gates, or the other stuff you expect at a commercial airport. There is, weirdly, an excellent Indian restaurant. And, next weekend, an air show.

As I ran, I was vaguely aware of a plane around, but I wasn't paying attention. Until I heard its engine cut out, and panicked. I scanned the sky and found the plane just as the engine noise restarted — it was a biplane, and it was doing tricks (practicing for next weekend, I assume). And it was AMAZING. Other people probably saw it, too, but I couldn't see them. The plane did swirly loops and twisty barrel rolls and scary freefalls, the whole time I ran and walked. When necessary, I turned around and walked backwards on the walking parts to watch better.

As I got closer to my car, I saw the only other person I saw the whole time. I stopped her on her walk to be sure she saw her own private airshow, too.

Extracting joy, day 5 (Friday): Great shoes

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Whimsy's explanation

Way back last summer, I was working on questions and answers for, I will now admit, an internet dating site.

And one of my dearest friends, who I do not get to see in person very often anymore, but did used to see in person daily, suggested "I have nice legs and am not afraid to wear shoes that show them off" as an answer to one of the questions.

And I sighed heavily, because that used to be true, but when I moved to the country, I got a teensy bit of grief for my shoes and so gave up on cute shoes. But realizing that that was something people used to think about me was enough to inspire me to declare the period from my birthday in August 2009 to the same date 2010 "The Year of Great Shoes."

Now, there are shoe people who have a lot of shoes. I am not, usually, one of them. I generally have a few pairs of shoes I wear in heavy rotation. But this year, I've been committed to making those few pairs great shoes. And people have noticed. And I like that.

So.

Today (Friday), at lunchtime I went into the local consignment store to buy a pair of pants I saw last week and liked.

They didn't have them.

But they did have, in my size and at entirely unbelievable prices:

• Slightly worn Steve Madden wedges

• Brand-new Anne Klein wedges

• Brand-new Frye boots

• And brand-new Joan and David pumps

Three out of four of these shoes were less than $20. One was, in fact, less than $10. The remaining pair was less than half its retail price.

So I bought them all.

Extracting joy, day 4 (Thursday): Stretching comfort zones

(Sorry, gang; have had some internet/computer troubles lately. But I have been working on Days 4, 5, 6, and 7.)
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Whimsy's explanation

I had this one all written before it all disappeared. That's fine; it was probably too long anyway.
In recent months, but especially this week, I've been trying to do things outside my comfort zone. There are many reasons for this, but one of the results I didn't expect (and love) is that there seem to be many fewer things that don't seem like the kind of thing I would do anymore, at least to me. Other people probably still get surprised when I do things they wouldn't expect of me, but I don't, as much. Relatively new to that list are:

• Getting up at 5:30 every morning
• Running
• Internet dating
• Selling jewelry as an advisor for a direct sales company
• Planning a trip to Milwaukee for a conference with the aforementioned direct sales company
• Agreeing with Perez Hilton (seriously. How and when would that happen?)
  
• Reconnecting with old friends, even ones with whom I ended on not-so-great terms
• Going to see Sex and the City 2
• Communicating honestly — including having the uncomfortable conversations when necessary
• Asking for help at work, when necessary
• Not jumping to the first conclusion I think of

And you know what? So far, all of those things have worked out at least OK. Even Sex and the City 2, which I can't honestly recommend — but can recommend the company of the women I spent that evening with, and I can also recommend getting all dressed up to go out with friends on a Friday night sometimes.

Extracting joy, day 3: This second

(Day 1)
(Day 2)
(Whimsy's explanation)

So I had a post half-written in my head about my second job, which I do love, and which does give me joy, and which I will likely post about later in the week.

But right now, I am too absorbed by:

• open windows and
• episode 20, season 3 of Mary Tyler Moore and
• a raging, beautifully cooling thunderstorm and
• my new white cotton nightgown and
• the fading taste of the orange popsicle I ate ten minutes ago and
• this awesome wave of sleepiness that might just overtake me.

Extracting joy, day 2: What's in the garage

(Day 1)
(Whimsy's explanation)

A little pre-today background:

Weeks (months? I don't know.) ago, the two worst nest-builders in the world started attempting to build a nest in my garage, in the rafter right above my car door. I first noticed them one morning when I went out to the garage, and startled two blue jays, who freaked out and flew out of the garage.

When I got home from work that day, I stepped on a pile of twigs and plastic stuff on the floor next to my car.

After a few repeats of this (morning jay freakout, afternoon pile of twigs), it became clear what was going on. I did not imagine they'd successfully build a nest up there, particularly after one day when I startled the male and he crashed into the closed garage door, right next to the open garage door. But succeed they did.

And then the female just started sitting there. All the time. She was no longer freaked out, no longer even really noticed me. Which I assumed meant there were eggs in the (seriously, very poorly constructed) nest.

I finally brought my ladder into the garage from the deck, where it had been sitting all winter. I put it as far from the nest as was possible, considering that the nest is in the dead center of the garage. I climbed it a few times anyway, to look at the female jay. She seemed fine. I'd have been bored. She seemed unbothered by it.

So, today's joy:

There were babies in the nest this morning. Three of them that I could see, silently opening and closing their mouths. Their mother was still there, too, looking proud, though I could just be projecting.

I carried those baby birds in my head and my heart all day today, thinking of them about a thousand times, in meetings, as I went for a walk, as I planned for my evening.

And those weird-looking featherless aliens have completely framed my day. Made me excited. Made me want to get home, just to stare at them.

And when I did, they were still there, still opening and closing mouths, occasionally flailing a naked wing. Their mother was not still there, and who can blame her; she's been sitting there for weeks. She came back.

Seriously, I think she looks proud.

Extracting joy, day 1: A bulleted list (of course)

Have you seen this thing of Whimsy's? It's a neat idea, right? And kind of out of keeping with much of my personality, right? Which is only an advantage to you, readers (if readers still there be).
Because either:

• I will feel compelled to balance, which means a whole lot of posts in this seemingly abandoned place, or
• I won't, but you'll get joyful posts for a week.

And I know that three of you still check here from time to time (I mean you, J and B and K). Thanks. This one's for you. And for Whimsy, because this will not be the one that wins, but it will be my declaration of intent. The winning entry will be later in the week.

Here are the joys I have extracted from this day, none of which I have yet properly taken quite enough time for:

• Memories of a lovely weekend, with amazing people, new and less-new
• My sister's hand-me downs
• The discovery that Magnum condoms are actually regular-sized condoms (what? So I giggled. You did, too.)
• Plans for an exciting new world-changing project
• Praise for the new thing I do at work
• Praise from my mom for another thing I did at work
• New running shoes, daring me to make good on my promises of running (no, seriously. I will. Soon, I'm sure.)
  
• An even-better-than-expected rewatching of Stranger than Fiction, which, really, if you watched it before and liked it pretty well, watch it again with an eye for the details. If you didn't see it, watch it, quick, so you can watch it again.
• Phone conversations with old friends
  
• Beautiful, beautiful weather, just a little hot, in a way that I may get sick of in August, but totally relish in May
• A sugar-free cherry Popsicle, which is delightfully and surprisingly much better than the generic version
• Sleeping with wide-open windows, strategically chosen for maximum cross-breeze

How about you?

Back to basics

Here is what living in the country is like:

It's like when you start telling someone that they have karaoke the first Thursday of the month at the Chinese restaurant at the gas station, and everyone thinks you're talking about the other Chinese restaurant at the gas station.

Win big for big, er. Whatever.

So Condomania has apparently been measuring. Or something.

And you'll be glad to know that my old hometown of D.C. and my current home state of New Hampshire both do just fine. Seems like there would be a lot of jokes I could make, but really, I have already wasted most of the ten minutes I was gong to take for lunch on this. And you, readers, never disappoint me on the jokey joke front.

So have at it. There'll be a prize for the author of the best line in the comments. Contest starts now and ends Friday at noon.

What today is like

I'm so sorry, you people. I have sooooooooo much to tell you, if you're still there. I don't blame you if you aren't.

But for starters, here is my favorite thing that I have had to say today.

"It's, um, complicated for me to hear you suggest that the problem with feminists is that they aren't paying enough attention to men."

Yeah. So I'm about like that. How are you?

Update 6/11/10: Here is that same sentiment, expressed in awesomer fashion.