Mall buzz

I was out and about yesterday and decided to hit the mall. It's something I usually don't do, because, as most of you who drop by here know, I don't like to pay retail if I can avoid it. But yesterday was a typical Sunday of late for me: rootless, without focus and with a bit jingle in my pocket. So I drove to Silverdale and took in their gigantic Goodwill, which was right across the street from the equally large and wildly busy Costco, and so, for the heck of it, I took in Costco, too. But it was the mall that thrilled me yesterday. What is it about brand new sparkly things that gets folks so excited? Is it something the manufacturers build into the packaging that draws us in? Is it some sort of slow release chemical that attracts customers in the way that exotic flowers draw in flies?

There is a sort of energy at the mall on busy Sunday that can't be matched anywhere else, well, maybe outside of a major factory production line or the Seattle Center on New Year's eve or during a key moment at a big sporting event. It was beyond busy, human running about like newly minted molecules, excited children bumping around like pinballs. The light, always kaleidescopic in a place like that, took on a carnival air. And it applied to almost all corners of the place. No shop or kiosk or big box store was immune. I cruised fast, skirting around customers like an old tin-can destroyer on a high seas cruise, getting in my walk for the day, and took in all the sights, big retailers like Penny's and Macy's, just to see the latest cookgear, as well as old favorites like Cost Plus World Bazaar (always liked their rug and wine assortment).

But in order to slip away from all the pre-holiday madness and catch my breath I snuck away to the cookbook aisles of Barnes and Noble. It was great having that store as an access point to the Mall. It was a sort of sylvan glen to rest in before I slipped out into the desert of retail madness, and a nice place to decompress before I headed off to my car. One thing for certain, if I am ever going to have a good thing going with my cookbook collection I must have readily accessible shelving like they do, and an equally large room to store them in. I was wowed, as I should have been, by the size and breadth and freshness of their collection, but being the after-retailer that I am, I couldn't bear to look at the prices after a few moments so I just took note of the most happening and nifty of their stock and left.

I do love going to the mall, no doubt about it. There was a time when I regularly exercised credit cards there, but those days are long gone. I think of those kinds of places as the new town squares. We dress the part and stroll about, like kings and queens and duchess in the gardens of Versailles. We get to show off our feathers, blow cash we don't have, eat cookies and bad Chinese and overly crusty pizza, smile loudly, bang about like loose cannons and yell after our children, but it's all in the name of commerce and patroiotism and retail therapy. I love that last part. That shop till you drop thing. And then, after we rest our feet, knock back a good cup of coffee and a heavily sugared treat, we jump back into shopping combat mode and go at it again, sort of like kids on Halloween night. They never seem to be satisfied until those sacks of theirs are embarassingly full. Watching the crowds yesterday, I saw no reason to believe that unemployment stood at 10 percent. Heck, all I saw was the full recovery of the nation being just around the corner, all stuffed into large department store sacks.

Yeah, I'll be back. See you in the cookbook aisle some Sunday, eh?

Salud!

Lies, statistics and the realities of job searching

If there was ever a time when I needed to practice better money discipline now is the time. For all too many years I have spent money like a drunken sailor (didn't hurt that I had a lot of experience being one for a time..) but now that credit cards and a fat paycheck are clearly out of my life I have no excuse engaging in "retail therapy" on a daily basis just to get myself out of the house. I have all too many other things I could be doing but I have been finding all too much pleasure cruising the aisles of Goodwill and all the other local junk stores in search of treasures that give me momentary pleasure. That is, until the next all too necessary fix...

Work. Hmm. I spend most of mornings "working" online. Actually, my routine is pretty dependable and fairly comfortable. The cat walks on my chest anywhere between three and six in the morning. Depending on my disposition (and the amount of wine I might have consumed the night before...) that will "start" my day. Better if it's closer to six, because then I have an excuse to put on a movie. Better if it's closer to seven or even eight because then I can start my daily in somewhat realistic fashion. Eight is a good time to be up and out of bed. Eight is good time to fire up the news, the stove. Eight is late enough in the morning not to startle the new neighbors next door when I stumble out the back door in my whitey tighties and throw out yesterday's coffee grounds. Eight is a perfect time to stretch, brush teeth, scratch, all that.

A daily routine is important if you want to stay on track, if you want to seriously want to get back on track once that proverbial ship comes steaming in. I wake up to old news in my head, but know that new news is awaiting me down at the computer. What's good is that I get to work online before the bandwidth is sucked up by the local branch library. I believe we share the same cable service. Seems when their doors open my computer slows waay down. Coincidence? Imagination? I don't know for certain but it is somewhat uncanny when it takes me a half hour to move through a couple windows.

No matter. Me and the state of Idaho have become good friends. I use a variety of on-line services for job searching and let me tell you, the hour that they give job searchers down at the local library isn't near close enough to find meaningful employment. Almost every application I have fired off over the last four months has been online. Without a reasonable expectation of two to three hours to search, work through applications and download a resume (let alone build one) if you are just using local library facilities you can expect be looking for work far longer than your unemployment benefits will run.

So my mornings are spent searching, but my afternoons have been largely spent hanging out with my pal The Hot Dog King. I have a small spot of concrete that I warm next to his cart and have gotten to know his clientle over the last few months. It's been a gas meeting attorneys, sheriffs, watching the court action come and go, especially the family and drug court folks who come around on Fridays. The "1:30 Follies" are especially enlightening. It's a "but for the grace of God go I" kind of thing. Helps to keep me in line and thankful. Every day.

So, the newspaper says "10 percent unemployment" My friend says it's closer to 17 percent when you figure in men like me who are out there looking for work outside the realms of their chosen profession, men who are happy to be applying for jobs that pay half of what they were making before just to keep the wolves at bay. The other day I said that I would never consider library work again. I know that I keep plugging away at Idaho, keep looking at working a desk in Boise or Pocatello or wherever as a Workforce Consultant. The longer I keep looking for work the more I realize my skills are needed in that agency to help folks like me find work. Let me tell you, it's a bitch, truly.

That library job I mentioned a moment ago? A branch library manager, Delta, Colorado. I wasn't looking hard for that job, let me tell you, but it was there on the Colorado library job line. Wrote a cover letter this morning. Will run to Gig Harbor Peninsula branch tomorrow to print out an application, send off a package Monday. Why Gig Harbor? Seriously? Can you see me getting within shadow's distance of my local branch?

The realities, though, of my life are that for all the anxieties about work I am pretty happy. Things could be better, sure..my house could have sold, I could be in Boise with my kids right now. Could have made better sense of my life while I was here, made better choices, kept my words to myself, all that, but hey, you guys voted me Best Blog. Had to keep up the faith by writing, sharing, wearing my heart on my sleeve, all that.

Oh, and for those of you who know or have the priviledge of being able to see MJR let her know that I need to talk to her. That we need to sit down and share a cup of coffee. It's been a year since I've seen her face and even then it was only in passing. And, if all goes well with this job search business, know that I'll be gone soon. That should be a plus, as far as information to pass along to her is concerned. Let her know that she needs to call me, okay? Ah, where's a good "broker" when you need one?

Okay, keep your body and soul together, chillin's. And know to keep your words and emotions to yourself, otherwise you, too, will learn to appreciate the joys of filing your weekly claim at midnight on Sundays.

Salud!

Road trips and revelations

For the last four months I have been grounded, in a way. Strickly my fault, you see. There hasn't been anyone forcing me to stay home these past few weeks, rather, it was a sort of self imposed arrest. There is something about travel that liberates the soul, that opens up possibilities, that releases the imagination that I wasn't quite comfortable embracing at the time. I kept putting it off, wondering what the world "out there" held in store for me, yet, at the same time, turned away from it because I was afraid of what I might find.

I finally took my act on the road last week after three false starts. I put off my long overdue trip to Boise for a number of reasons. First it was the mechanics of the car, then it was cash flow and then, finally, weather. But once I road tested my wee little beast up and over and back again from Twisp I felt confindent that the car could handle the miles. Money, well, there never seems to be enough of it even in the best of times so I decided not to let that be an impediment any more. And as for weather, well, I bought chains and that was that.

I figured since I had the time and the skies were clear I would take a lesser traveled path. I took the highway up and over the Cascades by the way of Enumclaw and into Naches via Chinook Pass, driving through windshield high snow drifts on a recently plowed highway. I was happy that my car was not giving me fits, as the phone reception disappeared once I left Mt Rainier National Park. I was happy for the solitude, the sunshine and the massive bag of snacks and tunes I had by my side. I felt self contained, even giddy, knowing that the back of the wagon was filled with loot for my kids and that I would finally be seeing them before the night was out.

What surprised me more was finding that after all the angst I've had about my little house and my community I was glad and happy to be back in Idaho. I fought the notion of moving for so long that when I arrived and got into the groove of living with my children once again that I had to wonder what the heck I was thinking of before. I had to really wonder about about myself and what had held me back for so long...an old stick house, a boxful of memories and a profession that, for better or worse, was just another way to make money.

I found that I was comfortable in Boise, as the place reminded me a lot of where I grew up. As I drove down Eagle highway and on the roads in and out of the subdivions of the Treasure Valley I kept having flashbacks to early days, to old towns like Tustin and Costa Mesa and all the previously unincorporated lands that were once fields and orchards and cattle ranges. As I took the Estranged One around to second hands, as I raced the kids to the movies and school and their friend's homes I kept thinking of the times I had in my youth where my friend's moms and dads would do the same for me and my pals. All around us the bean fields were disappearing and housing tracts were popping up. On the way to and from the beach and school and playdates the orange groves were coming down and malls and eateries were rising. I saw the same thing happening there on the outskirts of Boise and strangely felt at home.

I know that to leave this little house and this sweet community would release me from the self imposed exile I set for myself. I held the line for no one but myself. I came home from a wonderful road trip and lovely Halloween and a ton of good moments to house that was warm, filled with my things and "peopled" by my cat, but not much else. Oh, sure, that and memories, but memories do not warm a bed or make me laugh out loud or keep me busy in a meaningful way.

I came off of that road trip knowing that I work at Helpline because I miss working for people in a meaningful way. I know that I am here in Port Orchard because of an old house and friends and the memory of old loves and those reasons alone. I came off the road to a house that now off the market with the phone ringing off the hook looking for new possibilities to sell it. Now that I am "home" I can see that I took that trip not only to see my children but to help me mark my internal road map. Where I was headed was a mystery before. I know now that my sights are set on Idaho, if only because the dreams I had for this house, for this community, for my profession, are all over and done with.

Later on this week I'll have a new realtor. I keep throwing out applications towards Idaho and sooner or later something will happen there. My children light up my cell phone with calls and messages that I found were, more than anything else, are what really matters.

I discovered, too, after alot of thought, that my chosen profession is really just helping people. I am a glorified customer service rep to the needly and the lost. I am a helper to those with questions and to those with poorly defined answers. I am a man who knows how to find information but more how to set people on a path to a better life. Maybe I can do that for myself for a change.

One thing I found for certain and that is the Treasure Valley area is not too big on hiring librarians. So, from here out, in order to be where my heart needs to be since this place has effectively shut it out, I am going off into the world of customer service and leaving librarianship behind. Twenty five years of doing the same thing is enough for me. Time for something completely different, even if that means reinventing myself in ways that, even two weeks ago, I couldn't begin to imagine.

See there, that's why I didn't take that road trip before. What happened was what I was afraid was going to happen. It was a release of the flood waters behind the dam. Hell, the complete and total destruction of the dam and the life that I had been living. I am ready to be swept away, road or no road, job or no job, map or no map.

I am on my way. On my way to where, I have no idea, but I think that it will be to a place where I can be happy again, even if it's just for a moment, but hopefully, for the rest of my life.

Salud!

Where trails lead

Right now I'm sitting in a very nice old chair I found at Goodwill the other day. As I was leaving the store a man walked up to me and began to tell me how to fix the material that was unraveling on the back of the chair. At closer inspection we both found out that the fabric was coming apart due to a bad staple job. He recommended hot glue. I found out that the man was an upholstery guy from way back. What are the odds of that? Leave a store with a four buck chair that takes two hands to carry ("good buy, that chair" said the upholstery man, "if you can carry it in one hand it's not worth buying") and come across a guy who can tell me right off the bat not only that my chair is grand but worth recovering as well. Wow. Love where life leads you when you are not asking for directions.

Earlier today I found myself on a "backwoods" trail instead of an interstate highway, or, for that matter, the information superhighway. I had finished up my required "three job searches" for the week and decided, last minute, to put off a planned five hundred mile ride to Boise until next week and take a long walk, instead. I figured that I needed to stick around, act on the latest job information that landed earlier that afternoon in my email box before I took off down the road. Plus I needed to secure a storage unit, spend a bit of time clearing out the little house in the back, to get that place ready for all possibilities, possibly even installing a renter if selling the house isn't this fall's big event. Clearly, life is not providing me with a map for the next part of my life.

As for that backwood trail, well, let's just say thank you, Port Orchard, for annexing The Woods to our community. I don't feel bad these days when I take advantage of the numerous paths and trails that wind through their holdings. As fun as they are to walk I found that they can be a bit of a maze sometimes. I found this out the hard way when I went out for a stroll last week. It was late in the day, the sun was down, there was heavy cloud cover and the trails were poorly marked. By the time I found a parking lot the streetlights were on and I found that I was a quarter mile down the road from my car. It was a good moment to reflect upon the "10 Essentials" I was taught years ago but more a moment to reflect on the realities of poorly marked trails. That simple walk through "the woods" retaught me a valuable lesson and that is that we only think we are in control. The casual stroll that we are taking through life, the one that we think is just a walk through the park can end up being a long journey through an ever darkening and deepening wood, one without markers, one with strange birds calling out in terror, with weird rustlings going on under the brush.

Yet today I emerged from the woods confident. I was happy to find that the street was where I thought it was. I felt the same way when I submitted an application and two more came back asking for my attention. One job in particular is for the State of Idaho, a late shift receptionist at a hospital for the developmentally disabled. What a departure from all things I have known. When I think of that job I picture my old friend Benj at the Fort Lyon's Veteran's Hospital, I see old references to Ken Kesey and One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. I picture the great American Novel being written at the desk during long quiet stretches on the 10 to six in the morning shift. And, the big plus to all that would be that my children would be living right down the road.

I think of where my life has been leading me these last few years and I know that my strange travails of late are what I've been needing. Yeah, it's all been a very generous and timely ass kicking delivered straight from some kind and all seeing and easily amused god. I suppose we all could use a real ass kicking now and then. I passed up a real one, years ago, not too long after I got out of the service. It was late at night, in a tough town, and I found myself in a fairly rough bar with my father. My father was a hard core man's man and he was more than loaded that night, loaded enought to want to take on the NFL linebacker who was the bouncer at the door. I got my pop out of the bar that night with no damage to his body, but, looking back at it, I think that there was a bit of damage done to his soul. I know he had to wonder what kind of son his mothered raised. I remember the long quiet ride back home from The Alamo that night, back to his trailer in Arleta. I can still feel the steering wheel of that big old Caddy of his in my hands I drove on down the freeway away from San Fernando. He told me that night, after I dragged him into his house and tucked him in, that he was disappointed in me, that he expected me to go out of that bar with him back to back, take on the world, or, at the very least, the linebacker.

Over what, I had to wonder. Hell, even he didn't know the next day what the beef was about.

The point to that story? The point is that I let my old man down, that I didn't get into a real old fashioned bar room brawl over nothing. And while I wasn't a candy ass I used diplomacy instead of my fists to get us out of the bar in one piece. But maybe fists would have been better, more John Fordian, more Donvan's Reef like. Looking back I could see that diplomacy, that talk, that walking away was my style. This summer I got was I deserved. I was long overdue for a good ass-kicking and because I didn't get around to it back then I feel that the universe knew that the bill was due. The fact that I got such a big dose of it was a "just because I love you" kind of moment.

Sure, I didn't come out of it bloodied in the physical form that my pop would have liked but I think I finally got that high horse I've been resting on for years kicked out from under me. Yeah, I landed on my ass hard. I may not have the bloody nose that some might of wished for for me but I am still reeling from the psychic beating I took. Let's just say that I won't let it happen to me again. It was about as big of a Zen moment as a man could ever ask or wish for and I'm the wiser for it.

So today I fearlessly wandered the trails of The Woods and took on the travails of unemployment fearlessly as well. I found a bit of sunshine as I wandered among the grey clouds and I was happy for it. Today I took out a pen knife and marked my path with numerous scratchings along the way to let the world know that I was alive. And today I took to the paved road through the Woods, waiting for the man who really had a right to kick my butt three years ago to pass me by. Yeah, today I was looking for that guy. Today I was fearless. What could he possibly do to me that life hasn't done already? Kick my ass? Get in line. I'm already "inbetween positions". I lost my job and the respect of my Estranged One because of words, words to a woman who is long gone, who is and forever shall be the embodiment of undying love.

That in itself is a trail enough to follow. Or blaze. Or blunder through. My choice.

Come along if you wish, but as the old adage goes, lead, follow or get the hell out of the way.

Salud!

"If" and the Old Men of Disney

Herb Ryman, first artist on the left. The photo is of the first bunch of WED folks to come out of the studios. What incredible people they were.

Thinking of you, Herb, and seeing all those posts and images out there attached to your name can sometimes make me feel like I have somehow squandered my life, not lived or accomplished quite enough but then again, here I am, still living a good life, doing what I was doing when I first met you and moreso and still honoring you and your life and that of old man Kipling's. So instead of saying that my life has been half lived, let us say "I think not" and lift a glass to your memory and to the rest of a life that has yet to be lived.

But, let's talk about "If".

What a gift you gave me that day.

I know that somewhere along the line I posted this poem before. You must remember the details. I worked for Disney at the time. I was newly married, newly back "in country" and working against some sort of diabolical layoff clock. I was working with you, with men, who, in the animation industry, were giants but I had no idea who you were. That was due to the lack of easy access to video at the time. Years later, when I would watch some old piece of Disney animation or another I would see your name, the names of the men that I had once served and shout out to my kids "I checked out books to that man!"

So, there I was, in the stacks, a somewhat callow youth, fresh out of the fleet, working a desk at the WED research library, the one and only "special library" of my library career. It was a happening time for the company and I was happy for the work. I came to Disney from a temp job with an electrical parts firm, but that didn't matter much as my first wife was very jealous of my appointment with Disney. She thought that her part time visual merchandising job for the Yokosuka Exchange would carry the day and that she would be taken into some department or another instead of me. Damn if that data processing of mine in the fleet didn't carry the day, instead.

But the sad thing was that at the time I wasn't given the support that I wanted from my boss as far as a library career was concerned. So, instead of pursuing a job in the research business I decided I wanted to be more like my father, instead. I wanted to be a grip in the movie industry, a desert motorcyclist, a rough and tough man like my old man. I wanted to jump out of perfectly safe airplanes and drink beer like a Titan and be a fire fighter like I wanted to be in the fleet, something like that, all those things instead of a rationally married man. Instead of realizing all those dreams my first wife left me instead and went to live with my father's girlfriend in Glendale. I went on to qualify for LA County's fire department hiring roster but affirmative action laid me low. I ended up moving back with my mom because my stepdad had a last minute midlife crisis that involved a Korean hairdresser. I ended up going back to Santa Ana, back to the old family home to help my mom through her crisis. Not a bad deal in a way, so I say, but my brother might say different as I kicked him out of his room and put him up into the attic. Our relationship was never the same after that, to say the least.

But during that time I met the great Herb Ryman, who not only sent me a very nice Christmas card that first year but also gave me a copy of the following poem. I have no idea what happened to the original copy he gave me but I have kept a copy of that poem in wallet ever since. It was a long time ago, Herb, but let me say to you "thank you" not only for the poem you gave me but for putting up with that callow youth who served you oh so long ago. If only I had known who you and all those grand old men of Disney were at the time....


IF.....

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,'
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more -
you'll be a Man, my son!

by Rudyard Kipling

Salud!

Of two hearts

The weather outside today reminds me of why I need to keep my eye on the prize. So much left to do and very little time left to do it with.

After a week of absolutely grand weather I woke up and faced a cool, grey morning outside my window. Not too bad of a start, I suppose, and yes, it could go away, but as Hot Dog King likes to say it's the cool weather that drives his sales so maybe for his sake I'll wish for this cool grey day to stick around through, say, two o'clock. My feeling about is that it can go away and come back later on in the month. That's when big things are happening in my life.

The end of October has been my focus for, well, seems like forever. All my work and energies have been sited on the 31st, and is where all my fretting, planning, prayers, frustrations, fall back plans are all headed. Right now I am still focused on selling my house, but that's strickly an afterthought of summer. I worked like an animal earlier in process to get it ready and I haven't had anyone come through in weeks. But maybe because I have shifted my energies a bit. I am back in the house again, living in it as if I still live here. The tacit agreement between me and the realtor was that the house was supposed to be vacant. After awhile that ruse didn't wash. I needed a place to sleep that wasn't filled up with boxes and spiders and where better to do that than in my own bed?

Where I lay my head down to sleep is what the end of the month is all about. I am on the road and am fast approaching an offramp of sorts. As much as I would like to get off and take in a rest stop before I get there I may not have that option anymore as things are happening now and I think by the end of the month my time in the Pacific Northwest, my fate, may be sealed. Nice to know that something will be clear. I could use a bit of clarity right about now.

What's happening are two interviews in Idaho, and possibly another one here in Port Orchard. What's interesting about them is that none of them are librarian positions. The two out of state jobs have customer service components built into them but that's about as close as they come to my chosen profession. The one here in town has a customer service angle, too, but again, is way out there from what I've been doing for the last twenty five years. The only thing that all of them have in common is the rate of pay, which is about 14 dollars an hour.

Wow.

But it's what they represent that thrills me more than anything. "And what is that, Mr Accumulate Man?" you might ask. Well, what these interviews are saying to me is that my skill set, which I was worrying an awful lot about, is a bit broader than I thought or even hoped for. I have been meaning to do up a new resume based on skills and achievements rather than a chronological list of all my librarian assignments and duties. I'm even taking a class later on the month to help me focus on what my skills and strengths are. When you've been doing the same thing for so long it's easy to overlook what it is that you are actually doing. In my head I may think "I'm just a librarian", but really, that title is like a stew. A great stew isn't composed of one thing but is a nice mix of a wide variety of ingredients, all put to the test, as it were, under high heat. How it turns out is up to the cook and the larder and life. I think if I were to rate myself as a stew I would say that I am a pretty tasty dish.

I think somewhere along the line that I forgot that. That my somewhat tasty work life hasn't been as mononfocused as I sometimes like to think it was.

So, what are those upcoming interviews for? What am I getting all excited about? Well, one of the jobs is based in Twin Falls. Workforce Consultant. I would be working for the Department of Labor, helping wonderful folks like me find work. Nice. I can relate to that. The other state job would be, for the moment, a trainee position. If I am chosen I would be working in Boise for the Department of Transportation as a Port of Entry Inspector. Picture this man finally working in a hairy chested male environment again. I would handling surly truck drivers instead of impatient moms at the desk, asking for bills of lading instead of library cards, checking out loads under tarps instead of doing fingerplays and baking cakes for book club gals. What a world of difference, what a change. As for that position here in town, well, that job would be a bit ironic, considering how hard I've been trying to leave: Moving Coordinator. Picture the man behind the desk who has been trying to sell his house helping other people move out of state. Touching and just a bit tragic.

But see, there's the rub. I like where I live and if I could have my way I would never leave. I have friends here, have some interesting things happening here as well. I'm a once a week Chili Czar for the Hot Dog King, I have my projectionist gig going on, I will be working with Helpline once a week starting next week and have a bagging thing lined up with Rosa Coffee on Bay Street later on in the month. I still throw small dinner parties, folks have me over for supper. I know the merchants and they know me. And frankly, I do like the weather, grey days or not. I know, all small stuff, but still, it's where I live.

I love my house, my view, my community, it's history. I may not have a lot of cash coming in but there are bigger things afoot. My little house has a renter possibly lined up for later in the fall and if that doesn't work out the gal across the street who runs the B and B may have an idea or two for helping me make a bit of side cash. The only thing that keeps me focused on that out of state line is Punkin and the boys. They are the reasons why I am still dogged about this move. Nothing else could get me to go. And if I don't go now, well, then, come the spring I'll start the process all over again.

But for the moment my work, my career, cashflow, all hang in the lurch. I have two, possibly three or even four opportunities coming up, all heading in different directions. I may be clearing out my house later on this month, or not. All depends how my resume and phone voice or my visage impresses the audience.

As always, I'll be sure to let you know.

Highways cross and split and sometimes carry you to places you never knew existed before. Will I ever be a librarian again? I have to admit, if I never have to do another summer's worth of summer reading programming I would be a very happy man. "What did he just say?" Heresy, yeah, I know, but there it is.

Salud!

Romance lessons on tape

Can "True Love" be bought or sold or conjuered up? Frankly, between you and me, I don't think so.

I shop around in second hands alot these days. My biggest fascination of the day was to stumble upon a multi-volume, how-to, non-fiction series on how to achieve romance for married types in VHS section of the Silverdale Goodwill. I suppose that long marrieds need a boost ever now and then, that they need to revisit the old primer that got them started to begin with in order to get the old spark plugs firing in unison once again. Or for the first time. Whatever.

But what struck me funny was that it would take a whole set of tapes for a couple folks to learn how to be romantic all over again, or for the first time. I didn't jot down the title of the set, but then again, maybe I should have. Somebody, somewhere, along the line went out and laid out good money to learn how to be a more romantically inclined partner. Maybe I've had it all wrong all these years and that tape set would have set me straight. Maybe at ten bucks or so it was the most invaluable find in the whole gosh darn store that day.

Oh, yeah, sure.

What I considered a bit more funny than that was the slug of French films I stumbled across in the same stacks that day. Now those films, I have to say, ended up in my basket. I love foreign film. For awhile I had a colleague who was absolutely nuts for foreign films. I made sure to watch at least one or two a week in order to have something to talk about at the desk, for it seemed that most other movies just didn't have the same appeal. Somewhat snobbish about film as far as I'm concerned, but, well, whatever, it takes all kinds. No matter, I know the appeal of a good French or Japanese or Chinese film. I love what the Spanish are doing these days in the cinema world and have never turned up my nose to a Fassbinder or a Wenders film and know that Thai cinema is the one to keep an eye on. I watch all kinds of movies, borrow foreign titles from Hollywood Video and from my local library, occasionally catch the rare foreign film now and then at my local art house, but as far as adding foreign titles to my collection I don't find too many non-Hollywood films out there to buy. Today was an exception. Happy days for me and for my video collection.

Okay, this post is not all about movies. I guess what I'm driving at is that someone, somewhere along the line missed out on a true romantic opportunity in the VHS stacks. I can't figure out why those movies I found today were missed. Was it a technology issue? Was it because too many folks are out are out of tune as far as the humanities are concerned? Maybe too many folks are caught up in business courses in college and not attuned to the arts. Maybe too many folks out there are paying more attention to the needs of their libidos instead of their hearts.

Maybe it's our society, or our contemporary culture. Maybe it's the way we "talk" to each other. I listen to contemporary music and watch the tele while I'm on the road and see that maybe, just maybe we are a bit too hung up on the physical side of life. Maybe we read too deep into the power of the body, of a finely tuned physique. Maybe we are too hung up on hard physical power, on what professional sports supposed bring into our lives. Maybe our lifestyles are lacking in grace and charm and plain old caring about ourselves and that other person who matters in our relationships. Maybe we've just stopped caring about anyone but ourselves.

I think of what Hallmark tries to stuff down our collective throats with their cards and such and know that that's not "romance" no matter what they might say. I think of all the stuff I stumble across in Goodwill around Valentines Day, the teddy bears and plastic hearts and such and know that stuff has nothing to do with romance either. But take a man or a gal too obsessed with chasing the buck or trying to break the glass ceiling or spending too many hours in front of the tv or the internet or spending too much time nose deep in romance novels or magazines looking for romance and not paying attention to real life and I'll show you a seeker or a relationship that is in trouble.

Hence the need for that multi-volume tape set to kick start their romantic life.

I think of whoever it was that donated that video set, if they had come down to the store today and stood next to me and chatted awhile about movies they might not have had to hit up that movie set and might have thought twice about buying someone elses's advice about what love and romance is all about. Maybe they would have ended up picking up a tape or two out of my stack. Maybe they might have been on their way to a far more romantic evening than those talking heads in that multi volumed stack could have ever offered them.

My take on on what it would have taken to have a romantic evening? After a nice vist to Red Apple, after securing a couple bottles of good wine and some cheese and bread and few other items for supper they could have wandered the store..found some new linen, a cookbook or two, maybe picked up some champagne glasses, maybe found a silver or chrome plated wine bucket to go along with, maybe found a few new and interesting plates and bowls and such for dinner. Maybe they could have found a new and interesting piece of lighting, a couple of great pillows, a piece of music or two to go along with dinner and then, after all that, grabbed a handful of French movies. The stack that I have at my feet tonight isn't all about the classics. There are a number of what would be consider "contemporary French romance" films. Knowing that they didn't come out of Hollywood tells me that there's a bit skin in there. Old marrieds, beware!

So, leave those non-fiction romance sets alone and pick up on the vibes that you tend to see and read about in the personal ads, instead. What are most folks looking for other than walks on the beach, dinners out, bike rides in the country and moonlight drives? For someone to pay attention to them, to listen to them, to be kind, to take a bit time out of their busy lives to indulge in something other than their own pleasures for a change. Sometimes it takes a cruise around a second hand to set up the stage for a romantic evening, sometimes it takes a movie with subtitles and a sexy premise, but more times than not all it takes to spark and inspire romance is to be real, be there and be yourself and to pay attention to the needs of your lover.

So, old marrieds, take it from me, leave that non-fiction romance tape set behind on the shelf and find something a bit more..what? thrilling? sentimental? romantic? to snuggle up on the couch with next to your sweetie. You'll find that your fires will be rekindled in ways that you never imagined.

Salud!

What a hundred bucks will buy you

Thursday I was saved by the bell. The wolves are still out there but have been backed off a range or two. I know that it'll kill me later on but I took out my wee retirement. So, does that make me "retired"? Do I feel like I am retired? Am I now strapping on white shoes and hitting the links and watching Oprah in the afternoons in my barkalounger and hanging out with my homies on a bench in the park playing checkers? Oh, I think not. No, I'm still hustling for work.

Sure, taking out my retirement cash was crazy, and because of that I went alittle bit crazy after a three months of austerity. Yeah, today I went out shopping. Retail therapy. Blew all too much money considering my circumstances. Today was a good example of what controlled Mexican madness is all about. But when I tallied it all up it was all spent on all goods for the long run. Groceries, books, movies, clothes and music. And not one thing bought retail.

Huzzah!

Today I hit up three second hands, a pawn shop and a discount grocery store in two counties. Bought labeled goods (Ocean Pacific, Quicksilver, Ralph Lauren, Columbia, Cablela's), a nice stack of music, an even better stack of current movies (five dvds for ten bucks, cheaper than renting) and more than a few award winning cookbooks. I look around me and see while my haul could fill a couple boxes or more on moving day I am satisfied with my craziness. Yeah, I really couldn't "afford" to do it but I did it anyway. Why? Because we are a consumer society? Because we are trained like monkeys from birth down in the OC to shop whenever or however we can, damn the cost? No, because after working the summer away like a dog under the threat of punishment and exile from a somewhat suppressive agency I had to o something to relieve the pressure. Oh, yeah, baby, and I did, and I had FUN.

Face it, I am in exile. I am a long way from family but thankfully close in to friends who went out of their way to support me during my times of trial. Let's just say that blowing fifty some odd dollars shopping at the grocery store today felt like a party. I felt vindicated stocking my wine cellar with discounted wines, loading up my larder with canned goods. I felt that what I spent today was spent in the name of good will. Someday, and that day is soon, is tomorrow, hell, is everyday, was spent readying myself for the long haul. That "long haul" started months ago and has been staring me in the face all the while, even while I rifled through today's receipts.

Today I went out and blew a fortune. But today I socked in movies and books and things that in my wildest and most wicked of imaginations I would never think to ever borrow again from my local public agency. Today I went out and paid nine dollars for a bottle of wine that in my wildest imagination I would never think to spend twenty five dollars on. Today I blew ten bucks on a coat that was mostly a forty or fifty buck coat retail that I will pack away in my car, a coat that I will use going back and forth on those long and cold trips to Boise this upcoming winter. And today I went out and added candles, cookbooks, music and movies to my collection that someday I hope to share in the wee hours with somebody who cares a bit about me, or, while I'm waiting, with friends who like to cook, like to eat, like to drink wine and who, frankly, like me, like me for whom I am, and that is a thrifty man.

Salud!

Achingly, wonderously

I went out and about in the fall weather today. It would have been all too mundane to waste away the day doing yardwork and I was aching for something more along the lines of an exquisitely mundane experience so I took a drive instead, went all the way to Tacoma, ended up at Point Defiance Park. Wandered the Dahlia Trail, took in the poetry encrusted concrete waterfront walk, watched the white horses wrestle with the wind and the tide in the Sound, talked to smiling dogs, said "hola!" to highlander indios fresh off the truck. I sucked in heartily of the tanginess of the smokey city air, ate burgers that resembled those of my youth and spent oh too money around town like the misbegotten sailor I used to be.

Yeah, today I took into account the softness of the autumn air, avoided yard work like the plague and because I was either foolish or mad or a combination of both was blessed by the season. What a benediction. It was a good day to be alive and out and about. Hope your day was half as nice as mine.

Salud!

Small thrill, new skill, big passion

Today I started a new "job", well, rather, a new volunteer position. It does come with perks, will be teaching me a new set of job skills and shows me that passions don't necessarily come with big paychecks attached. I already knew that from my years in the librarian profession. Considering how many things in that profession fall under "manual skills" I have to wonder half the time if we shouldn't just label it a "trade".

I digress.

Today I started my apprenticeship in the fine art of film projection. And really, it is an art, in the way that cooking or painting or mud wrestling is an art. No one way to really do it. It's somewhat like brain surgery or brick laying or souffle building, every time you do it seems to be a different thing altogether. Today I went in at two in the afternoon and came out at eight a different man. I finally got to see movies from the other end of the beast. That sounded strange, sure, but there's some crazy stuff afoot in a movie house once you climb up and above the comfy seats and go up into the projection booth.

My teacher and boss felt I had a leg up on the rest of his trainees he's had if only because I used an 8MM at home and was familar with threading my old reel to reel. I suppose in some ways, yes, that old up and over and around threading thing I was used to was there with me today, but man, it was a completely different ball game being up there in the booth with two movies going round and round simultaneously, with paying customers in the lobby wanting popcorn and waiting patiently in the auditorium for their films to start. You can dabble all you want at home with your music and old flicks but once you get paying customers in your midst all the variable change and everything you do becomes all too real. Or "reel" in my case.

Picture a large circular dining room table, oh, say, six feet or more in diameter..that's how big a platter is for films. Then picture this strange, overhead and underfoot sort of freewheeling jungle of film vines snaking in and out of a projector, going back and forth onto that huge platter, then top that off with old school projection technology and you get the kind of day I got to have four or five times today. My boss was patient...he's been in the business for a dozen years or so..and he walked me through the steps more than once. It felt like the first day of school. I couldn't absorb enough information fast enough, and frankly it made my head spin faster than those gigantic reels spun the film.

But you know what? I did it. With help, sure, but I managed to pull off threading and setting up four different movies today. Plus I learned how to work the popcorn machine. And I got to watch part of a Korean vampire film, the whole of the new Kevin Spacey film Shrink and even swept the floor during intermission. Next week I get to unload films from the platters and break them down into their shipper boxes, load up an upcoming film. All that for free.

All job descriptions I see these days ask for experience. Sometimes you have to go out of your way and be willing to grab that experience without pay. For me it's gravy, or rather a free movie, a bag of popcorn and a Coke on top of the new skill set. For others it would be out of the question. Will I get to use this new found experience later on? Who knows? But for the son of a grip and an old movie maven this is a job made in heaven. For the moment, anyhow. See you at the movies!

Salud!

Need movie times? Here's the Historic Orchard site:
http://www.orchardtheater.com/