Lets go

I just got back from a trip to the Kalahari waterpark resort with an unusual group consisting of me and my two boys (Tim and Jeff) my niece and nephew (Ramona and Cale) my mother, my aunt Judy, my cousin Marisa and her nieces Isabel and Jillian.

I held the unique distinction of being the only adult who was the parent of some of the children, who had been to this place before, and was willing to go in the water. This meant I was responsible for accompanying the kids on the slides and doing a lot of the "figuring out" of what we should be doing when, and trying to keep track of everyone.

The first day went well with the boys running around going on as many of the slides and rides as they could, but the girls stayed with the tamer activities as they became interested in trying out some of the big slides. For our second day I decided it would be best if the kids and I got to the waterpark right as it opened at 9:00 when the lines were shorter so we could go on the group rides all together.

After a quick in-room breakfast I threw on my bathing suit and went in the hallway at 9:00.

Cale and Jeff went rushing past me but I waved them back, and told them to put on some shoes and wait for the other kids.

Tim came out munching on a bagel. I told him to hurry up and finish that and get back out here because we were leaving for the waterpark right away.

Isabel and Jillian come out of their room then and I ask Isabel to go back in and get Ramona.

Ramona comes out and announces that she is going to go to the gift shop with Grandma so that she can buy a souvenir for her best friend Julia. I told her that we are on our way to the waterpark, shopping would be later. Could she go back in and get Isabel?

Ramona goes in and comes out to tell me that Isabel is on the phone with her mother.

My mother comes out and says she is ready to go shopping with Ramona. I tell her that we are going to the waterpark now, shopping later, and could she please go and get Isabel to come out here.

Tim and Jeff emerge from their room and I ask them where Cale is. In the bathroom, they think.

Isabel comes out and hands the phone to Jillian, mom wants to talk to her too. I ask Isabel to go and get Ramona, who went back in the room.

Tim and Jeff are walking down the hall without waiting for the rest of us.

Jillian finishes her phone call and I tell her to go and chase Tim and Jeff and tell them to wait.

Ramona and Isabel come out of the room, finally ready, and I tell them to wait right there while I go and find out where Cale is.

I find Cale lounging in the room and we come out and all of the kids are walking far down the long hallway, and we hustle to catch up with them.

Finally we are all together in the hall, halfway to the waterpark, and Jeffrey remembers that he left his admission bracelet back in the room...




Silly kids. We repeated a version of this scenario every time we transitioned from doing one thing to another. That's just the way it is. Still a very fun time for all.

Day in Detroit 09

For the past few years my sister Becky has taken my boys for a "Day in Detroit." In the past it was to help out with child care during the summer but this year she still did it and I came along too.

We started out in Hamtramck where she lives, and went inside of the Community Services Building so that we could view a mural on the wall of the recreation room that depicts the History of Hamtramck. It is interesting to look at but the real reason we did this was to see the image of Colonel Hamtramck. Since there are no known pictures of the real Colonel the artist (who Becky knows) modeled it after the person who dressed as Colonel Hamtramck in the Hamtramck Days Parade. That person happens to be Becky's husband, Hal. It's a reasonable likeness:

Next we went to the New Center area to visit our cousin Derek who has a deli/store inside of the DPS building. We got to see the back rooms in the basement, and the underground parking, and Uncle Buddy handed the boys these enourmous peaches:

Then Derek captured a picture of Jeffrey slipping one into his pocket on the security camera. Ha Ha.

Next we had lunch at Tim's favorite restaurant, Hockeytown Cafe, and then walked across the street to look in at Tiger Stadium and Ford Field. It is fascinating to look at these places when they are not filled with people.




The boys think it is great fun to ride the people mover so we took that over to the Cobo area, and went to see the office building where Becky works.

There are so many things that fascinate them such as elevators and built-in mail drops. Even the water cooler.

The views from the 9th floor offices were really something but then Becky had the idea that we should go see it from the roof. We had to walk through the super-creepy boiler room to get there but the view was good.



After that I requested to go somewhere that I have never been which is the Motown Records Museum. Becky knew the way and we drove down Grand Boulevard. This happened to be during the time of the Michael Jackson memorial service, and all of the news crews were parked outside of it to get footage of the "local reaction." I thought it would be great fun to be on TV paying our tribute to the King of Pop. But since the news trucks were taking up all of the parking spaces Becky wisely just drove on by.


It was as it always is, a great experience for the boys to explore the big city we live near, and I liked it too. Fun and interesting aren't perhaps the first words to come to mind at the mention of the City of Detroit, but when approached with a spirit of curiosity and adventure, it can be a truly amazing place to explore for a day.

Hurricane Me

I'm hoping this is a light year for hurricanes. Maybe they won't even get to the letter M. And look who's in front of that:

2009 Hurricane Names

Ana
Bill
Claudette
Danny
Erika
Fred
Grace
Henri
Ida
Joaquin
Kate
Larry
Mindy
Nicholas
Odette
Peter
Rose
Sam
Teresa
Victor
Wanda

Hang Time

We were riding our bikes to the library, trying to get there by 11:00 when teen volunteer orientation started. (Tim said that you can't call it volunteering if you are forced to go. There is another word for that...Community Service!)

We took the path that connects our subdivision to the library. Well, it almost does. The path runs in between some houses and then leads into a field of grass that you have to go across to get to the library sidewalk. This is sort of my doing. Back when the sub was transitioning from the developer to the homeowner's association, I was on the board of directors. I wanted the developer to finish all the items on the master plan, which included this path. I called the Parks and Recreation director to find out if they would be connecting our path to the library. He said they probably would but it depended on how they used that land. But they never did.

I was following Timmy onto the grassy part when I heard Jeffrey, who was riding close behind me, call out: "Watch out for the giant hole!"

At this point I entered this out-of-body slow motion state of uber-awareness. Kind of like back at work when I would study slow motion films of crash tests, analyzing the movements that took place in each millisecond frame. Have you ever experienced this?

Here are the thoughts that ran through my mind:

My bike is sinking
Oh no I hit the hole
That is a huge hole
I am airborne
What is going to happen?
I hear Jeffrey screaming "MOMMY!"
He sounds so scared
Poor thing has to watch his mommy fly through the air like this
He has such a cute little voice
Nice of him to care, I love that little guy
The handlebars just smacked into my leg
I am now separate from the bike
I should have tightened the straps on my helmet
I hope my head doesn't hit
I'm flying
Now I'm going towards the ground
I wonder what will happen when I hit the ground
I'm hitting the ground
I feel my skin ripping off my legs
I don't think my head hit
I feel grass on my face
The bike is on my feet
So this is what happens

I laid there stunned until I heard Jeffrey asking if I was ok. I looked up to see my children looking worriedly down at me. I sat up and after a couple seconds told them to go on to the library and sign up for their activities. They did!

I went home and cleaned up my wounds. Ugly red scrapes and huge purple/black bruises now decorate my legs. Other than a general banged-up feeling, I am ok.

We're going to go over and do something about that hole.

Where's Mork?

When I was born my parents had that unfortunate idea to name me Melinda and call me Mindy. Since the nickname isn't as obvious as, say, Joe-for-Joseph, as a child I was stuck with the yearly explanation to my teachers about what to call me, and some general confusion whenever a sub came in and took attendance. And then of course there was my own decision early in my career to go by the more professional sounding (I hoped) "Melinda" on the job. I'm not sure how well that worked, and it again added name confusion as colleagues became friends and there were people mixing all around saying different names.

And then there was that TV show. Here I was with this somewhat uncommon name, and then out comes this goofy show with Mindy right there in the title. Of course it was wildly popular at the time, and at first I thought I might glean some coolness from the thing, such as people saying na-no na-no or shazbut to me. (I was in Junior High at that time and coolness was a priority.) But that's not how it went. For decades to come, upon learning of my name people would ask "Where's Mork?" with that "aren't I clever betcha you never heard that one before" smirk on their faces. Even this would all be fine but I never did come up with an appropriate retort. I have been left blinking stupidly after many an introduction because I just didn't have a good answer to that question.

Until now:

This weekend my sister Becky presented me with my very own Mork from Ork doll. Is it cute or what? As I have mentioned before, Becky likes to go to vintage doll shows and you never know what she will come up with. One time I went with her and was able to purchase Brady Bunch paper dolls and and a Little Kiddle scented locket as her birthday gifts. Usually these items are purely nostalgic retro fun. This time, however, it is more than that. Now when someone asks me "Where's Mork" I can pull him out of my purse.
Right here! ar, ar, ar!

Concessionaire

Who would have guessed that at my age I would finally gain some new skills which most people get when they are teenagers.

The Band Boosters for the high school take turns running the concession stand at the local baseball park and since Tim will be in HS next year we were invited to sign up. The profits for the season are divided up according to how many hours you worked, and the money goes into an account for the student's future band expenses such as trips and band camp.

Even since he was very little Timmy has wanted to work at a store so he was eager for this opportunity. I liked the idea of us running our own little business together (for the night.) Timmy did really well taking orders, making change and organizing the inventory. I grilled the hot dogs, scrubbed the counters, and made sure the popcorn tasted just right by sampling it often.

It was fun to spend time doing this with my son and to see all the little kids coming to us to make their purchases. Also Jeffrey was playing in a game at an adjacent field and I could run out and watch when he was up to bat or pitching.

We're scheduled to do this again on July 10 and August 14 so if you are around Seymour Lake Park stop by and get a snack!

Camp Safety/Hayride of Horror

This week was Jeffrey's 5th grade camp trip. Having learned from my past experiences, I signed up to attend as a "visitor" on the second day rather than as a chaperon. This way I was able to observe all the fun without having to be responsible for other people's children or sleep on a moldy plastic mattress. I drove there with my neighbor friend Monica who also has a 5th grader, making it even more enjoyable. I am learning!

Fresh and rested, we drove a little over an hour, chatting so much that we almost missed the entrance to the Howell Nature Center and Camp. We made our way over the bumpy and gutted hills of the campground road to the building where our children were in the middle of a one-hour safety orientation. We greeted the overwhelmed and beleaguered looking chaperons, and I made sure to thank them for watching out for our children.

After the safety orientation was over we all hiked through the woods to the site of our first activities, which were the rock-climbing tower and "high ropes." The children were then subjected to yet another series of safety instructions. By now I was sure that they had received far more information than they could possibly retain, but I was pleased to observe the emphasis on safe practices given the dangerous nature of what they would be doing. They learned a detailed set of commands that had to be repeated whenever they were "on belay" when wearing a safety harness.

I once read about the purpose of these types of camp activities. It is to safely simulate the feeling of perilous adventure and create a bonding experience for the participants. The kids just think its fun. I was extremely proud as I watched my little Jeffrey scamper easily up to the top of the 60 foot climbing tower, a feat that only a few of them accomplished.

After lunch they were scheduled for the high ropes which is something I've never seen before and is quite amazing. The children were subjected to yet another safety orientation where they practiced the steps of transferring their safety hooks before they climbed high up into the trees to navigate across a course of ropes, wires and logs. I was again happy to observe my Jeffrey complete this with ease, and felt he was safe due to the ample staff and safety precautions they were taking.

After that they did canoeing and had dinner, and then it was time for the hayride. A tall man in a large straw cowboy hat came and told our group that one of the carts had a flat tire and they were going to see how many people they could fit onto one wagon. We squeezed our way onto the wooden benches along the sides of the wagons with the children on a thin layer of hay at our feet. The man stepped up onto the back of the cart and delivered what would be the fourth safety talk of the day:

"This wagon does not have any shocks, so the ride will be rough. Anyone with a heart condition or who is pregnant should not ride." Greg's dad jokingly started to get up, claiming pregnancy, and we all laughed. But a girl named Katie turned to me and said:

"That's how our teacher got her back injury last year!" I smiled dismissively at Katie as the hat man went on:

"Keep yer hands in the wagon cuz if ya don't they could get cut off. We'll be getting real close to some trees so the people on the opposite sides should tell people when to duck. And try to hold on." He looked down at the two kids sitting nearest the opening where he stood. "These two might fall out." I saw that there was no gate to go across that opening, and one of the dads stretched his foot out to partially cover it.

We all hollered as the man revved up the pickup truck that jolted the packed wagon into motion. I contemplated the total lack of restraints and the gaping space in the back of the wagon as I recalled the many crash videos that I studied in slow motion during my career as a seatbelt engineer. We used to fret over the tiniest details to make sure that the vehicle's occupants would remain uninjured in all possible situations. And here I was with all of these precious children as the man turned onto that bumpy camp road and revved the engine to what felt like 40mph.

The happy hollering turned to fearful screaming as the wagon flopped along behind the truck, and those tree branches started whipping us in the faces and heads. There was little to no reaction time as branch after branch sliced through the air and whapped the passengers hard and deposited leaves, blossoms, and possibly disfiguring scars all around. Monica, true friend that she is, took to screaming "DUCK" and smacking me in the back as she saw them coming. I bent into the "crash position" they recommend for descending airplanes: forehead to knees with palms to the back of my head.

We got a reprieve from the branch assault when the truck swerved into an open field and began driving around in circles. Centrifugal force slammed us all against one side and I saw Jeff's friend Nick clutching the side of the wagon trying hard not to throw up.

After another screaming tour of terror over the roads we finally lurched to a stop back where we started. As far as I know we didn't lose anyone or sustain any serious injuries, but my goodness after a full day of careful safety instructions I can't believe they subjected us to this. It was one of the most terrifying things I have ever done.

When Monica and I got off the wagon and looked at each other's crazy hair spiked with hay, leaves and branches we burst into uncontrollable laughter. It was a bonding experience.

Garden Intrusion

I love growing a garden and now that I'm home I'll have a lot more time to care for it. So maybe this year is the year that it doesn't dry up or become a giant salad bar for all of the creatures that are always traipsing through.

While I was in Mackinaw Larry did some work to get the garden ready for planting. (Per my request.) He dug out some old chicken wire and railroad ties and replaced them with a double layer of new railroad ties to make it more of a "raised" garden, and put in new fencing that is supposed to be specially designed to keep out small animals. He also turned over the dirt which looks really good this year since we added shredded leaves in the fall on the advice of my work friend Alan.

On Sunday when I got back it was ready for planting, so Jeff and I went to the Garden Center and bought seeds and plants. We got the plants a little larger than usual with the thinking that would give them more of a boost to produce. Instant Garden! It looks great!


Of course I remain worried about the deer which in the past have decimated my gardening effort immediately after its been planted. Larry helped me to stretch a special netting that Aunt Chris gave me across the top of the fencing. This created a complete Box of Protection around the garden. I hoped it would be effective but could be a pain when we need to get in there to pull weeds or pick vegetables.

I hung up a wind chime on a hook and planted marigold seeds around the perimeter, which are said to be deterrents. Then I got out this spray jug of "Deer Away" and squired the putrid stinky stuff over all of it. Disgusting, but if it works, worth it.

Finally, after a long day of laboring, I went in the house. As I looked out the window to watch the sun go down, the deer came through our yard, right on schedule. I peeked out and watched them to see what would happen. On of them went up on his hind legs to nibble on a tree branch nearby, but then they wandered away without inspecting it. Phew!

After it got too dark to see anything I sat down and watched some shows on TV. A teaser for the 11:00 news came on. FROST WARNING FOR TONIGHT! I was so busy outside all day I hadn't checked for this. And now it was dark out and not realistic for me to get out there and try to cover all the new plants.

I went to sleep and dreamed of shriveled seedlings. Later in the morning, before I'd gotten the nerve to go outside and look at the garden, there was knocking on my front door. At first I didn't recognize the woman who watches the children next door. They have a baby and a 3 year old, and she brings two other preschoolers over there with her.

"I am SO SORRY!" she said, looking stricken. In her hands were the cute vegetable-face garden markers that I had gotten on clearance last year and had put in right after we planted everything. "I was tending the baby and I looked over and saw the kids having a parade across the yard holding up these sticks I had never seen before. Then I realized they are your planting markers! Now you won't know where everything is!"

It made me laugh that all of the efforts to keep the animals away had not deterred the children from reaching their little hands through and pulling those things out. I assured her that we didn't need those markers to know what we planted, and then I explained to the guilty looking children that they had to get permission to touch anything in there from now on. They were very cute as they listened to my explanation of what we planted, and then they invited me to see their tree fort.

Other than a slight frost damage to the tomato leaves, everything is still looking good, for now.

Bad Chaperone

At the beginning of the school year Tim's band teacher announced that they would be taking a trip to Mackinac Island in the spring. He encouraged the parents to have their children attend, and said that there would be some fundraisers to help with the expenses. "It's a great experience." he told us.

Because I don't like to make my kids sell stuff I signed up for the online payment plan and forked over the $250 fee in installments. At the parent-teacher conferences in March I met with the Band teacher and asked him a lot of questions about the trip, especially regarding how to manage Tim's food allergies. Timmy has never been that far from home before without us, and I know from reading the Food Allergy Network materials that many of the deaths from food allergy reactions have occurred on this type of trip, when the kids are older and kind of on their own. The band teacher suggested that I consider chaperoning the trip since they needed more parents to go along anyways.

At that time I suspected that I might not be working any more in May, so I wouldn't have to worry about taking the time off, but doubling the cost of the trip would sting even more. I didn't do much about it until a few weeks ago when he emailed me directly requesting that I attend because they needed more parents to go. I agreed and went online to sign up. I gulped when I saw that the cost for chaperons was even more, $330, apparently due to the double instead of quad room arrangement. That's almost $600 for the two of us to do this. I could take my own family on a very nice trip for that amount, but oh well.

About a week before the trip there was a meeting for the parents. It turned out that both the band and the choir were doing this. I saw my friend Gail at the meeting. She said she would not be going but asked that I keep an eye on her son since he now has a girlfriend in the choir who would also be on the trip. I met that girl's mom and assured her that I would try to see that things were "on the up and up" with them. The band teacher explained to the nervous parents that the children would be well supervised during the entire trip, and that the chaperons would be evenly distributed throughout the bus. The man from the travel company was there and said that they have been doing trips for years and have never lost a kid yet.

One parent raised their hand and asked how many would be going on the trip, and the teacher said about 40 kids total, way down from years past, "probably due to the economy." That led me to ponder the idea that this trip was actually optional, and that my family was the one with the job loss and complicated food issues and yet was participating.

After the meeting I went up to the band teacher because I wanted to talk about allergies, and another mom was also there because she was looking to find a chaperone who could help her daughter who is diabetic. Since I was the one standing there I said I would try to help with that.

A couple of days before the trip I called the travel agency to find out about the food that would be served. Since I was going to be there with the epi-pen at the ready, I wasn't so much worried about a reaction but needed to find out if there would be enough "safe" food available for Tim to have enough to eat. After I politely explained why I was calling, the woman on the phone sounded all put out about it. "This is the first I've heard about this!" she complained. I told her that the Band Director was aware of the issue and asked if there was a place I was supposed to indicate any special needs when I registered. She admitted there was not but did list off the food that was included in the meals that would be served. When it looked like Timmy might be limited to eating dinner rolls and plain lettuce, I asked if there was a possibility of having anything specially prepared. She said that was not an option and suggested that I bring along a cooler with our own food in it. OK, then.

When travel day came they loaded up the bus with luggage, band instruments, and dozens of over-excited 8th graders. After I took my seat in the front of the bus with the other chaperons, the band teacher and tour guide took the microphone and told the kids to behave themselves, and some other typical rules. The band teacher looked at me, and took the microphone. "And no eating peanuts on the bus!" Then they made to leave and I asked where they were going. "Oh, we always travel in a separate vehicle, ever since that one time" they explained and then left us with our charges.

The bus ride really wasn't so bad, at least in the front of the bus. I looked back and thought I could see the top of Timmy's head. And I identified the diabetic girl. She had her eyes closed and mouth open. She was either asleep or in diabetic shock, I hoped it was sleep. They had given us an information DVD about Historic Fort Michilimacinac to play on the bus. When we did that the kids complained and turned up their ipods. I found it very interesting.

When we got to our destination the band teacher re-appeared and told the kids to stay on the bus while we he met with the chaperons. We were handed a list of children we would be "responsible for" and given itineraries. My list had son, his friend Clark, the diabetic and 6 other girls I did not know. When they disembarked from the bus they were told to go and meet up with their chaperons. Several girls drifted my way and I tried to find out their names and match them up with those on my list. One came up to me and stated: "We don't have to stay with you."

I said that they didn't have to but were welcome if they wanted to. Another girl smiled at that and I decided that I liked her better. Then they went away, never to be seen by me again. To this day I am sure that I could not even select them from a police line-up. I tried to memorize their faces in the 30 seconds I had to look at them, but honestly they all sort of looked the same. I happen to know at this age, they work at that. And then they all bought new sweatshirts, and later changed their clothes. I would often scan the crowd, looking at faces and wondering what girls were "mine." Especially when we were on the ferry, I hoped really hard that none of them were left behind, unnoticed. Imagine the headlines.

Our accommodations for the night were at the Mission Point Resort on the island. The chaperons were to share rooms with 2 double beds, but I noticed that the teachers would be in a complimentary "hot tub suite." I was a little nervous about sharing a room with someone I had never met, but my roommate Bonnie turned out to be very nice, and we did fine. Much better than the two stunned looking 6 foot tall fathers who went to check into their room and found one double bed. After much discussion and wrangling with the hotel and the travel guy they were able to secure 2 separate rooms. Then they were charged extra for it.

The food they served us at the resort wasn't that good and I realized that there were other children who might have had diet issues too when I saw them picking out very little from the one-entree choice line-up. Tim seemed to get in line way ahead of me despite my best efforts to catch up with him. He had very little to eat and would not accept the carton of soy milk that I had lugged all the way up there for him. This made me frustrated and him hungry. By the middle of the second day he came up to me pleading for money to buy a box of popcorn which got him a less-than-loving parental look and yet another wad of money from my purse.

At night we were given a list of rooms to check on that was different than the list of kids I was "in charge of." The rule was that they were to be in their rooms for the night at 10:30, and the chaperons job was to count them. There were security guards with roaming the halls with clipboards at this time. I checked on my assigned rooms, and all looked fine, and then went to the boy's hallway to say goodnight to my son. Clark answered the door and Timmy peeked out and waved at me and then disappeared. Gail's son (who has the girlfriend) was also in that room so I jokingly asked if it was only the four boys in there. As they grumbled an affirmative answer the guard appeared over my shoulder and told me that I should check under the beds. What? "They do that all the time" he told me. I just shouted "go to sleep!" and left.

Mackinac Island is a beautiful place but I suspect that traveling with a middle school tour group in the off season isn't the best way to enjoy it. I looked wistfully upon charming porch chairs and beachfront walkways and thinking how nice they would be to enjoy...IF I were there in different circumstances. I also believe that the students didn't appreciate it. We were scheduled for a horse-drawn tour of the island. After I saw Timmy departing on a carriage full of boys (could he be avoiding me?) I slipped into the back row of a carriage with the girls from the choir. I don't think that they realized there was an adult present as they proceeded to torment the poor woman who was charged with steering the horses and narrating points of interest to her passengers through a microphone. "I'm cold!" those dressed inappropriately for the 50 degree rainy weather interrupted her to complain. "My room had bugs in it! Breakfast was terrible! I can't live without a car! This place smells bad! Everything is old and boring!" I cringed and felt bad for their parents and embarrassed on behalf of our group, their school, our town and my gender. I noticed that it was only me and the choir teacher who chose to tour the historic fort while everyone else rushed to stand around in the gift shop and buy candy. They turned up their noses at the "too fancy" food in the Grand Hotel Buffet and Clark put in his ipod headphones during the Three Men and a Tenor concert.

It made think what the point of all this was. There was a part where they went to a soundstage to play some songs on their instruments and get instructions from a man from CMU, but it came to mind that he could have much more easily made the trip to their school and accomplished the same thing and reached more of the students. I do see the benefit for the economy of the island and the tourism industry in the off season to host all of these students in bulk, and I can see why the teachers would enjoy getting away from the classroom and enjoying their complimentary deluxe accommodations. However, knowing what I do now, I don't think I would do this again, or send my child alone. Can't trust those chaperons.

Gloria

The phone rang and it was my sister Mary Beth.

"Mom called me to tell me that she went to the funeral of our old neighbor Mr. Spiteri yesterday."

"Yeah, I heard about that, very sad." I wondered why she would call to tell me about this.

"Well, get this. She ran into some old neighbors there and struck up a conversation with a Mrs. Suffeck. Do you remember a Mrs. Stuffeck?"

I rolled the name around in my brain for a moment. "The name sounds vaguely familiar."

"Well," she went on, "apparently Mom was going on about her daughters like she does, and she got to talking about her youngest who is a Very Successful Buyer at Ford. (ha, ha)"

I wondered just what adjective my mother might have applied to my current career situation, but Mary Beth continued her story: "And then Mrs. Stuffeck says that her daughter is married to a Very Successful Buyer at Ford." I thought I could see where this was going. "Doesn't she realize that there are hundreds of buyers who work for Ford?"

I reminded Mary Beth that it is one of those Rules of the Universe that when our mother strikes up a conversation she will somehow magically hone in on the common link with lightning speed, and it always beats the odds of likelihood. Oh, your brother went to Michigan State? Well then he must know... Even though hundreds of thousands of people have attended certain Universities, or lived in certain towns or states, or worked for a giant corporation, it always turns out that you actually do know of or have a connection to the person. It just works that way. In fact, the entirety of my (unsuccessful) career at GM began with my mother standing in line to check out books at her local library, and finding out that the woman behind her worked in the department of GM where they hired summer students, and of course I was finishing up my sophomore year in Engineering and would sure like a job like that...and the rest is history.

There are no six degrees of separation when you have the single degree of Dorothy on your side.

So I was curious as to why Mary Beth was calling me with this story as she went on to say that when she asked our mother for the name of Mrs. Stuffeck's son-in-law, she found out that she had written it down on a scrap of paper and put it in her purse. And then couldn't find it. It is another (unfortunate) Rule of the Universe that my mother tends to quickly forget crucial details from these conversations, and I won't even go into the Black Hole Theory that I have about her purse.

But Mary Beth goes on: "So when I get to work today, my good friend and co-worker from the next cubicle comes over to tell me how his mother-in-law met up with my mother and that his wife Gloria grew up on our street!" But of course.

And now to the point of the phone call. Mary Beth was desperate to figure out if we actually knew Gloria growing up. She is probably a bit younger. I riffled through the rolodex of my brain trying to place a girl of that age into a house down the block near where the Spiteris lived. I thought I had it. "I know! She was the daughter of the President of the Barry Manilow fan club who lived in the smelly house who we never wanted to babysit for!"

Mary Beth was horrified. "It just can't be her. I've never met Gloria but she has a reputation of being very pretty and neatly dressed. That doesn't fit. Think some more."

I added the additional data of 'pretty' to the search engine of my memories, and came up with a vague and filmy image of a fancily dressed little girl being pushed around in a stroller to our side of the block. And then I remembered that I have this little photo album of pictures that I took when I found an old brownie camera in my Grandparents attic. The film for that thing was hard to get, so there are very few pictures, but they got looked at a lot. We're talking mid 1970's here.

I told Mary Beth that I would get back to her, and went to the closet where I quickly found the album and this very faded old photograph:

That is our older sister Becky in the back, and neighbor girl Debbie Dillworth pushing a tricycle with, could it be, little Gloria?

I scanned the photo and emailed it to Mary Beth at work, where she forwarded it to her coworker who shot it home to his wife who immediately confirmed that, yes, that was her on the tricycle.

It would be amazing except that this kind of thing isn't all that uncommon in our family and probably isn't for you either. I think that these things happen for a reason. Maybe their purpose is to serve as a reminder to us that we are always surrounded by people who are connected to us in ways we could never imagine and will probably never know. Unless, of course, you have a Dorothy.

New PMP

Well all this sluffing around the house just has to stop. I need Goals and Objectives, like at work when we had "PMPs." PMP stood for something like Performance Management Process but we would refer to it as in: "I got my PMP today." The managers were supposed to write these up for their employees but I usually used to put together my own and it would get filed unless there was a need to write up a new one to match whatever the boss might have thought an upper level director wanted it to say. There was a trend for a while to state regular objectives and then "stretch targets" for the things you thought you might be able to get done but wouldn't completely committ to. So here is my 2009 new PMP:

Mindy's new 2009 Goals and Objectives:

• Keep house tidy and clean. Such as pick up, make beds, sweep the floor, empty the dishwasher. Enabler: That new lightweight vacuum with the onboard attachments. Stretch Target: Completely organize every closet, drawer, cupboard and shelf in the house.
• Adopt healthier habits. All that sitting and eating donuts has added up, and it ain't pretty. I plan to watch what I eat and exercise every day. Enabler: Put new battery in digital scale. Stretch Target: Lose 30 lbs and participate in a bike tour with significant (40+) miles by fall.
• Spend time with kids. Attend all baseball games, track meets, field trips, and school events in the upcoming months. Make arrangements for our summer travel and camping. Do things and go places together that are fun. Stretch Target: Delay the onset of the boys thinking it is uncool to hang out with their mom.
• Learn to cook. Yeah, I know I tried this before. I'm going to try again. I'll start with packing those lunches and work up to making actual meals and doing the shopping. Enabler: Maybe I'll get out Jeffrey's DS cooking game. Stretch Target: Use the oven without burning stuff up.
• Contribute. Since there will be less cash to hand out, I will serve my community in other ways, such as working in the Giving Garden, coordinating a neighborhood event, assisting with the schools, sports teams, and in the township. Stretch Target: Maybe make that bike tour a fund-raising one.
• Connect. Maintain and strengthen the bonds I have with my friends and extended family by hosting some get-togethers out here at the lake while the weather is pleasant. Enabler: Some cooperation from Mother Nature would be nice. Stretch Target: With that clean house and cooking skill I should be able to entertain someone here for lunch, or even dinner at least once a week. Yes, I mean YOU. Looking forward to it.
• Create. Keep going with this blog and my scrapbooking hobby. Enablers: Well my scrapping table will be organized according to #1, and I can do the ScraP SisTaZ challenges and attend workshops at Lynns. Stretch Target: Write novel. I do have an idea ready. I'm going to do it.
• Get a job. Because the severance money and savings won't hold out forever. Enabler: Take advantage of the services of Right Management Consultants that are included with the severance package. Stretch Target: Something local, high-paying, that I find challenging and engaging, where I will be surrounded by amazing people and a pleasant environment, with flexible hours and generous benefits. (Ok, that one might be excessively stretchy even without being in the midst of a recession, but I gotta know what I'm shooting for!)

Of course there are many other things that are not listed here, but these are the new ones. Wish me luck!

Around the House

It's hard to believe it's been a whole week now since I last drove down to Warren. Especially when I think back on what I have accomplished in that time.

I have just sort of been drifting around the house, picking up things here and there. Such as the Easter baskets that needed to be put away. Bonus! I found some jelly beans still hiding under the plastic grass!

Larry noted that he is still the one getting up to make the lunches and get the boys off to school in the mornings. I explained that technically, I am on vacation, since I had some days left that hadn't been used. He has chosen not to argue that point for the moment.

Sometimes I check my emails, and sometimes I check what's going on in Port Charles. I found out that Michael could wake up from his coma at any time now, and that new guy hanging around the docks could be Luke Spencer's long lost son he never knew about.

My Aunt Kathy introduced me to an online game called Farm Town. I don't like to play games and it seems like a silly waste of time, but since it's Aunt Kathy, I set up my farm. Now I take care of it every day and have learned how to plow and harvest crops so I can earn more Farm Coins. I really need more Farm Coins so I can build a silo. Once I get a few more levels I can get a horse! Here is a picture of me on my farm:


I did make a little list of some things that I was going to do during the day, but I never got around to them. I think I'm going to need a plan. When I get around to that, I'll share it with you. But right now, I'm, um, well...doing stuff.

Off-boarded

Since I told you I would tell you, here's what happened on my curiously named "Offboarding Day:"

It seemed like it should be a big deal, the end of my 24 year (17.5 credited service) career, but as I saw my two boys and husband leave the house they didn't even mention it, or wish me well, or anything. And then the phone rang, it was my mother. She is a connoisseur of big deals. So much so that I didn't want to tell her this news, and so had called out for Larry to do it on Sunday as I left the house to go shopping. So now she was on the phone, trying to drum up as much drama about the subject as she could, and I resisted with short statements like: "I'll be fine, it's not a big deal."

After that I checked my email. I got one from a now former coworker wishing me well, and he included a memo from Troy Clarke, GM Executive, that announced that the separations were going to be happening this week but that employees would be handled with "respect and dignity." I promised to be on the lookout for that at my offboarding.

Eventually I left the house to drive through pouring rain all the way to Warren, and went into the conference room at the VEC. Just inside the door was a flip-chart with the words "Expressed Interest Offboarding" written diagonally in cursive with different color markers. I thought that was a nice, welcoming touch, but wondered how they would decorate the sign the next day when it would be the people who were truly involuntary.

I saw my HR lady, Terri, who didn't look quite so miserable as she sounded on Friday, but she was sitting at a table already talking to a man. Another HR lady greeted me so I sat down across from her. Terri looked over and said hello to me, and the man she was with turned around, and it was Tom, my old seat belt technical mentor. We both said "Hey!" in a "fancy meeting you here" kind of way, and then got back to our business.

The HR lady asked me my name, and then got out a piece of paper that I saw had my name and years of service written down on it, and a large white envelope. She proceeded to write my name on the envelope with a marker, and then looked at me and said, as if she had been rehearsing: "So what are your plans?"

I looked back and said "I have no idea."

She didn't seem to know what to say to that, so she got down to the business of going through the checklist of things I was supposed to turn in (computer, badge, car pass, credit card, etc) and stuffing them into that envelope. I had everything ready so that didn't take long at all.

Then she got out another white envelope and explained that it was full of information about the severance. She said "Maybe later on you can pour yourself a glass of wine and go through it, good reading!" I pondered the wisdom of GM recommending its severed employees turn to alcohol, but I just nodded in agreement. She quickly went through a checklist of items that were supposed to be inside the envelope, then stuffed it inside and said that was all.

It all seemed rather impersonal. Not that I was expecting a powerpoint slideshow of the highlight moments of my career set to the music pomp and circumstance. (Although that would be cool to see) but the packet she gave me didn't even have my name on it.

Then she said she would get someone to walk me out, and dissappeared through a door in the back of the conference room. I was sitting there picturing some burly bouncer type security guard, maybe carrying a large gun, but instead she returned with a man I recognized as an HR executive who once gave a talk at about Managing your High Potential GM Career at an affinity group Lunch and Learn. The very fine seminar title of Exiting Your Unrealized Potential Employees came to mind but I just chit-chatted about nothing as he saw me to the turnstyle doors and wished me well.

Later on at home Timmy turned the TV on since he was tired from track practice. I sat down with him as the local news show began a story about "GM begins eliminating 1, 600 salaried employees this week." They even showed a close-up of the Troy Clarke Respect and Dignity letter, and a shot of the very building I was in, with cars driving out.

Timmy turned to me and said, "Oh yeah, you did that today, how did it go?"

I smiled at him and replied "It was no big deal."

Goodbye Melinda

Friday was my last day of work at General Motors. They are going through with the staffing reductions that were a part of the original viability plan, and I'll be getting a severance package. This time.

Other than the brief flashes of terror I get when I consider my financial future, I am ok with this.

You may recall that two years ago I left my engineering job at GM on my own with no severance pay. But that was a leave of absence, and I did end up coming back to the company after 6 months but to the training department. I thought of it as a whole new beginning, a chance to learn new skills as well as apply the knowledge that I have of engineering and GM processes in a different way. At first it was all that and more. It was great fun learning how to write online training courses using the Lectora program, and I felt like I was making a meaningful contribution to the department. But over time I began to feel like I had stopped learning, and the projects I was getting and could hope to get were no more than busy work. My experience in Engineering wasn't really acknowledged. It turns out that Engineering is one of those jobs that everyone who isn't in it thinks they could do better than those who are. And although I went in there with a "can-do" attitude I found that those who are schooled in the field of "Instructional Design" don't believe anyone without that background can just step in and do it.

And then the economy tanked out, and GM began its frightening downward spiral. It became a very difficult place to drive almost an hour through the snow to go to every day. I started to secretly hope that I would get let go when they started to work on the staffing reduction plans.

When I had my performance review and learned that I was one of the people that they would be trying to "protect" from separation, I became irrationally frustrated.

So I told my boss I would be ok with it if I was let go. He wasn't exactly pleased with that, but did present my "request" to Human Resources, who demanded that I put it in writing.

I didn't want to write it down. That would mean taking responsibility for my own fate, which I ashamedly admit made me uncomfortable. I could see my poor nice boss sigh with exasperation when I resisted with "what are they going to do if I don't write it down, fire me?" Finally, after a clarifying discussion with the HR lady I did jot down the suggested "expressed interest" statement and sent it in.





And then I had to wait many weeks without really knowing what was going to happen, and the news about GM became more dire and incredible with each passing day. I also hated to see the agony in my coworkers as they struggled with all the unknown changes on the way, and felt guilty because I had to be secretive about what was going on with me.

Finally I got the word that I would be getting separated. The HR lady sounded like the most miserable person on earth. I tried cheer her up by acting all perky when she told me that my last day in the office would be April 17 and that I should go to a conference room at the VEC on Monday the 20th for "offboarding." (I hadn't heard that term before but I think it is goofy and makes me think of walking the plank)

I'll let you know how that goes. Right now I am having many conflicting emotions. I am sad that my career has with GM has come to an end, and I am sad for what seems to be happening to the company, because through it all I have always wanted the best for GM, and not just because I'm still holding some stock in my 401K. I realize that it is a might bit crazy to sort of voluntarily be leaving a job, any job, when there are so few to be had in the State of Michigan, highest unemployment in the nation right now. But then again I always wanted a severance package, and 2 years ago, albeit in a different economic condition, I was willing to leave with nothing. This time around I will get 6 month of pay and benefits, and have some more saved up in the bank since we never quite got around to adjusting our lifestyle up when I became re-employed. (Well, yes, there is the new kitchen floor.)

And, there is a beautiful Michigan summer just now peeking out and I'll be spending it with my darling little boys who I know are getting ever closer to being less little and darling with each year that passes by. I'm going to soak it up, all of it, every drop of a moment, and I know I'll never regret having that time with them, again, no matter how difficult things may become financially in the future.

And, in spite of the condition of the economy, and this state, and the automotive industry, I still cling to the hope that there is something out there for me to do, that I could both enjoy and be good at. Maybe even get paid for. For without that, well, this all would just be too darn depressing, and I don't wanna go there. I insist on being defiantly optimistic. I think.

Oh, I don't know.

There's only one thing I know.

I sure am going to miss Bob.

The Best Book Club Yet

This month it was my turn to host our Book Club. The selection was The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs. A few weeks ago I was in Target and I noticed the book there and put it in my cart. As I was checking out the woman behind me in line commented on my purchase. She said that she had read that book and that the author had called in to her book club. Hmm.

I finished reading it on the Tuesday before book club, and then noticed at the back where it said how to contact the author. I went online and filled out a form with my phone number and the time of our meeting, but didn't think anything would happen on such short notice.

We were already having one of the best book club meetings yet. Julie brought excellent snacks and Jennifer contributed some cake. We had the usual hilarious conversations and a moment where Heather had Weepy Willy do his thing on the picture of our local newspaper editors picture. We drank wine and I showed my movie. We also talked about the book, since for once everyone had read it. We all agreed that it was a nice, light read. Chick lit. But since we have been doing book club for over six years now, we've been through a lot of these types of books, and agreed that this wasn't one of the better ones. We thought it showed that she was a first-time author and that the characters weren't all that well developed.

And then the phone rang. It was her!

Even though we were already well into the wine and had just been sort of trashing the book, the conversation went well and the call lasted about a half hour. She was very nice and answered all of our questions, although some of it sounded rehearsed, and she kept pitching her next books.

I think that we all agreed that this was the Best Book Club yet, and that Kate Jacobs is super cool for calling us. Maybe she'll invite us to the premier of her movie.

Maybe I should write a book.



Amy took a video of part of the conversation, if you'd like to listen in: