I don’t know about you, but deciding what type of career to have can be very mind boggling especially for those who graduate from high school, enter college, and wonder what they are going to do with their lives; or college graduates coming out and really wondering if the degree they now have in their hot little hand was actually the correct choice. You would think by the time you reach the golden age of 50 all those decisions would be long behind you. That doesn’t seem to be the case for this soon to be 51 year old. They say the average person will change jobs 7-10 times in a lifetime. Seems like I’ve done that many in just the last five years.
Haven’t had much luck with employment lately. Constantly seem to be making wrong choices. Have had a lot of interests over the years. Have tried a lot of different things and usually know within the first two weeks if it’s going to be a good fit. Probably accepted the mail order pharmacy position last November out of pure desperation as no other offers were coming my way. Always avoided call center environments like the plague, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised at what transpired. Applied to numerous jobs of interest but since money was a factor, always chose or returned to the administrative (meaning clerical) route. Knew I was good at it, but just wasn’t my passion. Read an article a few weeks ago about middle aged people seeking employment or having career changes. One of those factors to consider--What is your passion? So, Debbie, what is your passion?
Went to the Arco station the other day to get gas. Pumped the gas, put the cap back on the tank and observed an elderly woman coming out of the store who looked very confused. Got in my car and watched her for a minute as she struggled with the hose. Started my car and noticed the woman was still struggling, so turned off the ignition, got out and went over to help. Got the hose to work properly. The woman thanked me. It felt great. Yes, in that moment I realized what I always knew deep down--my passion is helping people.
When Carl died and everything was blown out of the water, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents. During the next couple of years I helped cook and clean and in my mind was “taking care of” my parents even though my parents were quite capable of taking care of themselves. In my job confusion, thought I wanted to take care of something, but in actuality it was somebody. Have been a nonmedical caregiver for an elderly lady and helped my aunt numerous times. After many anxious prayers, a 100-watt light bulb came on the other day. My passion--taking care of ELDERLY people. So I went over to the retirement facility where my parents reside and applied for an activity assistant position and anything in food service. Of course, the salary won’t be as good, but that is secondary.
Watched a story on Oprah this week proving the fact that it is never too late to fulfill your dreams. Karen wanted to be a doctor and was deemed to be the first one to enter college, but she got pregnant while in high school. Had no support from her husband to pursue college and by the time she was 29, she had five kids. Eventually she graduated from nursing school but still wanted to be a doctor. Secretly applied to medical schools as Karen thought people would think her crazy. Crazy? Don‘t think so--she is the first grandmother to graduate from Yale School of Medicine. Karen also has school loans to pay off. A national skincare company was so impressed with Karen’s story they have agreed to pay the $160,000 school debt.
Although still would like to be a cop, that ship has sailed even though I consider myself in better physical shape than at 25. Also, don’t think being a veterinarian is the way to go. So, I’ll consider getting trained as a certified nursing assistant and possibly even pursue a nursing career. In the meantime, I’ll still work at the fire retardant business until something develops. It is quite a relief to have “figured out” what career to pursue. Now my only downfall is thinking too much and making excuses why it won’t work. And if a great job in an administrative field with tremendous salary and minimal commute drops in my lap, will have no qualms about accepting the offer.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Troubled Water
Moved my keyboard to my parents' place two weeks ago to practice in a better environment. Would be able to turn the volume up without disturbing the neighbors (the hearing in a retirement facility is not as keen), but seriously, the walls are actually quite soundproof. Mom also would be able to play once in a while when the mood strikes.
Yesterday, practiced that song I so wanted to learn many moons ago. Struggled with it for over two hours. All I can say is that I felt sorry for Mom having to experience such torture. (Dad was in the bedroom with the door closed watching TV which tells you something.) Usually have no problem quitting after utter frustration and surprised I lasted so long. Surprised myself even more by returning today although won’t be practicing quite as long. So, apparently I’m determined to persevere until it’s right. Who knows, it might sound bearable by the end of the year.
Yesterday, practiced that song I so wanted to learn many moons ago. Struggled with it for over two hours. All I can say is that I felt sorry for Mom having to experience such torture. (Dad was in the bedroom with the door closed watching TV which tells you something.) Usually have no problem quitting after utter frustration and surprised I lasted so long. Surprised myself even more by returning today although won’t be practicing quite as long. So, apparently I’m determined to persevere until it’s right. Who knows, it might sound bearable by the end of the year.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
HODGEPODGE
Been a little behind in blogging but besides the few hours working at the job that made life suck, have been spending my free time practicing. Now since there’s a little reprieve there are a few thoughts I wanted to say over the past week and will encompass them all into one. (Yeah, it would probably be easier, and shorter, making separate blogs for each, but then I would have to come up with more than one title, or do it in parts.)
Well, it became official Sunday, April 22, 2007, around 11:45 a.m. The announcement, which I knew, was coming for quite some time. It’s just more real when stated from the pulpit in front of a 100+ people. Worked in with a sermon about the neglected parable from Mark 4:26-29, or in other words, the parable of the growing seed. Done in quite an articulate fashion with the background of Josh, the acquisition of the soon to be England Family Mortuary, and father and son who will be getting an opportunity of a lifetime--working side by side in a family-owned business.
Greg and Janice are two of the nicest and most caring people I have had the privilege of knowing. Who you don’t want to see leave but are happy for them and who will be sorely missed. A man who speaks and writes with such adoration about his lovely wife of 32 years and who would never tell any of those “take my wife please” jokes. (I was fortunate to have had such a man in my life and hope to have again some day.) Have only known this couple for 1-½ years, but think I’ll miss them just as much as those who’ve been at LBCC the entire 14 years. Although not the only reason, they are a big part of why I’m here.
Although raised in the Church of Christ and attending the same most of married life, we became disgruntled after some Christian school experiences regarding Jonathan while living in Texas and never planned to step foot in a Church of Christ again. After moving to California tried different denominations but they all seem to have the same fundamental thought--we’re right and everybody else is wrong. We went to a Baptist congregation and the minister was raised in the Church of Christ and started knocking…… Thanks, but no thanks! We became fed up with the whole concept of denominations and started attending nondenominational assemblies.
After Carl passed away, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents until he graduated from high school. Mom and Dad sold their house in Oceanside and moved into an apartment complex in downtown Long Beach. They had visited LBCC once and decided to attend on a regular basis. Mode of transportation--the Metro bus. I moved up to Long Beach a couple of months later and stayed with my parents on a short-term basis. I was a less than stellar churchgoer. My parents went to church and I was on the Internet and watching the Food Network channel. I offered to drop my parents off at church and they could take the bus home, but they refused. This continued for several weeks and Debbie started to get a guilty conscience. Something is wrong with this picture. Who lets their parents take a bus to church? Decided to take my parents. It wouldn’t hurt to sit in a pew for 1-½ hours. Would just sit. Had no interest in becoming involved, getting to know anyone, or placing membership. This would be a short-term basis only.
Know Mom and Dad had talked about “their daughter” and several people came and introduced themselves. (I have always appreciated those who are nice to and take an interest in my parents.) Every week a lovely, sweet, and pleasant Southern belle always asked me how things were going in my job search. Her name was Janice, the preacher’s wife. Ed and I related about job search struggles. Steve and Laura talked about a fellow acquaintance, the same person who was the best man at Ed and Sylvia’s wedding. Barbara and Pam who had taken my parents up to the Pepperdine Lectureship. Arlene who had grown up in the same town and whose father I had heard preach. Bruce and Chuck who always acknowledged my presence. Sharon who invited me to the singles’ Christmas party. Was somewhat skeptical at first because I’ve attended congregations where the people are overly attentive to you until you place membership, then drop you like a hot potato. Reminds me of a membership sales department in a club-type atmosphere. It soon became apparent that people at LBCC do indeed care about others.
The minister preached sermons that were innovative and thought provoking. Sermons that were out of the C of C philosophy, at least the ones I attended. Issues I actually agreed with and wondered why others hadn’t preached about a long time ago. Praise team, hands raised in the air, clapping. Who cares? A preacher who admitted his infirmities--in public! An elder who admitted past addictions and struggles! People who celebrated other individuals’ sobrieties! Made you want to go outside and look at the sign. Yep, it says Church of Christ.
Suffice it to say, I was hooked and placed membership. I’m continually amazed how this group of people love and support each other and feel so lucky to be included. Greg is a special person (you don’t write a poem for just anyone) who has been such an encourager and supporter to me. They say every person is replaceable. All I know is Greg will be a hard act to follow and there is no one I’d rather have perform my wedding or funeral (whichever comes first). Greg and Janice, I’m going to miss you. (Oh, and Chipper too.)
***********************************************************************
Medicine. Doctors. Lab tests. No wonder people get frustrated and fed up. Dad was scheduled to have his angiogram on Monday of last week and the bypass on Tuesday. Drove Mom and Dad to the hospital and dropped them off two hours before the procedure. I would come back at noon.
When I returned, Mom, B and D were surrounding Dad while he lay on a bed in the Heart Institute. No angiogram or bypass would be done. The doctors determined that Dad’s red blood cell count (RBC) was low, he was anemic, and needed a blood transfusion. Excuse me? I knew his RBC count was low after the lab tests came back when Dad was taken to the ER three weeks earlier. One of the doctors explained how minute differences in RBCs from month to month are not vital but when compared with lab results from nine months ago, there was a significant drop. Hm, I would have checked that before ever scheduling Dad for surgery and wouldn’t have waited until he was already in the hospital before figuring it out; but they don’t pay me the big bucks for my medical opinions. At least I should be grateful that it was discovered before the procedure had started. Dad will have to see his primary doc in two weeks and his heart doc in one month. We’ll then be back to square one and start this whole process all over again.
***********************************************************************
I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be at work but am getting used to Master Quinn (the dog). The first thing I wanted to be growing up was a veterinarian until finding out how much schooling was involved. Unfortunately, I let that keep me from what could have been a satisfying and lucrative career. Who knows, I might have turned into a great animal activist.
Still hating the commute but bought a digital voice recorder to use for blogging so commuting won’t feel as much of a waste of time and money. (However, I should be looking for a new job instead of writing blogs.)
************************************************************************
Well, the day finally arrived. Sunday, the day of my debut. Had helped set up Saturday morning and got to meet Randy and see Keith again. They came out for the annual Pepperdine Lectureship and would be playing in the band. We had a great rehearsal that night and the nerves were already off the charts. High anxiety. Adrenaline pumping. Very antsy. All four emotions were to remain until the conclusion of the gig. Decided during our first practice session that the pinky ring was too much of a hindrance so there would be no good luck charm this night (Still can’t figure out how Liberace played with all those huge rocks, but his response: “Very well, thank you.”)
Morning worship service was not only very inspirational but also very emotional. Cecil, an elder at a church of Christ in Florida, who was also here for the lectureship, gave the communion talk. He spoke from the heart about his church combining membership with a non C of C entity and
being ostracized from a place he had been a key force in for many years.
Keith was prepared to give a sermon on “HOPE” (I know, because I had asked him Saturday), but Cecil’s testimony moved him to speak of his own Christian life battles. You know, I just don’t get it. Christians are commanded to love each other. Traditions, philosophies, disagreements should not matter--a common belief in Christ and the Bible, trying to live a Christ-like life, helping others…these basic things should be our focus. No wonder people take the nondenominational route--they don’t get bogged down with the inane things like instrumental music, raising hands, clapping….
Before our performance that night I had a good talk with Keith. Appreciated what he and Cecil had said. What a neat guy with a great sense of humor! Told Keith if I ever were to move to Northern Alabama, Creekside would gain one new member. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that same chance to talk to Cecil.
The Praise Band was on stage ready to start. Have always enjoyed their performances. Now I was part of this group and standing in front of the Yamaha keyboard. Camille, one of our teens, was to sing the first song. During practice, Camille had trouble projecting. Before she was to perform, told her to think American Idol audition with Simon sitting there (actually I wanted to tell her to picture Greg as Simon--that would make anyone belt out in song). Camille has a sweet voice and didn’t disappoint. Other guests performers: Randy who sang and played guitar and Keith who played the drums. Very talented. The regulars: 1) Steve who looks the part with beard and longer hair, a diverse player of several instruments with an exceptional voice; 2) Ross who plays bass and as Keith noted “fast as greased lightin’”; to me the knowledgeable professional; 3) Greg who is musically gifted but not sure he actually believes it, and now with facial hair looks quite bandish, meaning belongs in a band (okay, so I made up that word). Seem to remember the growth as a Pepperdine tradition, but maybe I’m mistaken. However, it looks good and he should keep it. Miss hearing Joanna sing with the band since she’s been away to college. Think she has a “voice of an angel” and should be the next American Idol.
Greg gave me a nice introduction and said I “blew him away.” Not sure of his meaning, but that would be the last thing to describe my playing. Although having dabbled on a keyboard for 40 years, if you were to calculate actual playing time, I doubt it would total five years. The one who would blow somebody away would be the regular keyboard player, Daniel, a junior in high school. He’s a member of his school’s jazz band and has played some solo performances at church. Greg asked me to fill in for Daniel as he would be out of town at a jazz festival. (His mom told me the band placed first in their division, so kudos.) Talked to Daniel once and have tried to on several other occasions. He seems reserved and has his head down when passing by. Maybe it’s just me, but seems like most teens put their head down when approaching an adult; however, at times I catch myself doing the same thing. Thought Jonathan was shy and reserved, but he told me otherwise. Having a 21-year-old son, you’d think I could have a repartee with a teen without appearing to be a total dweeb (Mom asked if I made up that word too). Anyway, I’ve been invited to become a regular member of the band and think Daniel will be able to teach me a thing or two.
Still hard to believe I was on a stage playing music with a band (only in my wildest dreams). My parents had listened to me for an entire week practicing the songs along with a CD. Received many compliments and Mom said we sounded better than the artists on the CD. After the performance, we all enjoyed a meal and fellowship together.
Will just say this--Practicing, performing Sunday night, and being a part of a band is the biggest thrill this 50-year-old broad has seen in a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NG time!!!!!
************************************************************************
Just a side note--Again, want to thank you all for taking the time to read my blogs, whether you comment or not. It means the world to me and has been great therapy. I love each and every one of you.
Well, it became official Sunday, April 22, 2007, around 11:45 a.m. The announcement, which I knew, was coming for quite some time. It’s just more real when stated from the pulpit in front of a 100+ people. Worked in with a sermon about the neglected parable from Mark 4:26-29, or in other words, the parable of the growing seed. Done in quite an articulate fashion with the background of Josh, the acquisition of the soon to be England Family Mortuary, and father and son who will be getting an opportunity of a lifetime--working side by side in a family-owned business.
Greg and Janice are two of the nicest and most caring people I have had the privilege of knowing. Who you don’t want to see leave but are happy for them and who will be sorely missed. A man who speaks and writes with such adoration about his lovely wife of 32 years and who would never tell any of those “take my wife please” jokes. (I was fortunate to have had such a man in my life and hope to have again some day.) Have only known this couple for 1-½ years, but think I’ll miss them just as much as those who’ve been at LBCC the entire 14 years. Although not the only reason, they are a big part of why I’m here.
Although raised in the Church of Christ and attending the same most of married life, we became disgruntled after some Christian school experiences regarding Jonathan while living in Texas and never planned to step foot in a Church of Christ again. After moving to California tried different denominations but they all seem to have the same fundamental thought--we’re right and everybody else is wrong. We went to a Baptist congregation and the minister was raised in the Church of Christ and started knocking…… Thanks, but no thanks! We became fed up with the whole concept of denominations and started attending nondenominational assemblies.
After Carl passed away, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents until he graduated from high school. Mom and Dad sold their house in Oceanside and moved into an apartment complex in downtown Long Beach. They had visited LBCC once and decided to attend on a regular basis. Mode of transportation--the Metro bus. I moved up to Long Beach a couple of months later and stayed with my parents on a short-term basis. I was a less than stellar churchgoer. My parents went to church and I was on the Internet and watching the Food Network channel. I offered to drop my parents off at church and they could take the bus home, but they refused. This continued for several weeks and Debbie started to get a guilty conscience. Something is wrong with this picture. Who lets their parents take a bus to church? Decided to take my parents. It wouldn’t hurt to sit in a pew for 1-½ hours. Would just sit. Had no interest in becoming involved, getting to know anyone, or placing membership. This would be a short-term basis only.
Know Mom and Dad had talked about “their daughter” and several people came and introduced themselves. (I have always appreciated those who are nice to and take an interest in my parents.) Every week a lovely, sweet, and pleasant Southern belle always asked me how things were going in my job search. Her name was Janice, the preacher’s wife. Ed and I related about job search struggles. Steve and Laura talked about a fellow acquaintance, the same person who was the best man at Ed and Sylvia’s wedding. Barbara and Pam who had taken my parents up to the Pepperdine Lectureship. Arlene who had grown up in the same town and whose father I had heard preach. Bruce and Chuck who always acknowledged my presence. Sharon who invited me to the singles’ Christmas party. Was somewhat skeptical at first because I’ve attended congregations where the people are overly attentive to you until you place membership, then drop you like a hot potato. Reminds me of a membership sales department in a club-type atmosphere. It soon became apparent that people at LBCC do indeed care about others.
The minister preached sermons that were innovative and thought provoking. Sermons that were out of the C of C philosophy, at least the ones I attended. Issues I actually agreed with and wondered why others hadn’t preached about a long time ago. Praise team, hands raised in the air, clapping. Who cares? A preacher who admitted his infirmities--in public! An elder who admitted past addictions and struggles! People who celebrated other individuals’ sobrieties! Made you want to go outside and look at the sign. Yep, it says Church of Christ.
Suffice it to say, I was hooked and placed membership. I’m continually amazed how this group of people love and support each other and feel so lucky to be included. Greg is a special person (you don’t write a poem for just anyone) who has been such an encourager and supporter to me. They say every person is replaceable. All I know is Greg will be a hard act to follow and there is no one I’d rather have perform my wedding or funeral (whichever comes first). Greg and Janice, I’m going to miss you. (Oh, and Chipper too.)
***********************************************************************
Medicine. Doctors. Lab tests. No wonder people get frustrated and fed up. Dad was scheduled to have his angiogram on Monday of last week and the bypass on Tuesday. Drove Mom and Dad to the hospital and dropped them off two hours before the procedure. I would come back at noon.
When I returned, Mom, B and D were surrounding Dad while he lay on a bed in the Heart Institute. No angiogram or bypass would be done. The doctors determined that Dad’s red blood cell count (RBC) was low, he was anemic, and needed a blood transfusion. Excuse me? I knew his RBC count was low after the lab tests came back when Dad was taken to the ER three weeks earlier. One of the doctors explained how minute differences in RBCs from month to month are not vital but when compared with lab results from nine months ago, there was a significant drop. Hm, I would have checked that before ever scheduling Dad for surgery and wouldn’t have waited until he was already in the hospital before figuring it out; but they don’t pay me the big bucks for my medical opinions. At least I should be grateful that it was discovered before the procedure had started. Dad will have to see his primary doc in two weeks and his heart doc in one month. We’ll then be back to square one and start this whole process all over again.
***********************************************************************
I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be at work but am getting used to Master Quinn (the dog). The first thing I wanted to be growing up was a veterinarian until finding out how much schooling was involved. Unfortunately, I let that keep me from what could have been a satisfying and lucrative career. Who knows, I might have turned into a great animal activist.
Still hating the commute but bought a digital voice recorder to use for blogging so commuting won’t feel as much of a waste of time and money. (However, I should be looking for a new job instead of writing blogs.)
************************************************************************
Well, the day finally arrived. Sunday, the day of my debut. Had helped set up Saturday morning and got to meet Randy and see Keith again. They came out for the annual Pepperdine Lectureship and would be playing in the band. We had a great rehearsal that night and the nerves were already off the charts. High anxiety. Adrenaline pumping. Very antsy. All four emotions were to remain until the conclusion of the gig. Decided during our first practice session that the pinky ring was too much of a hindrance so there would be no good luck charm this night (Still can’t figure out how Liberace played with all those huge rocks, but his response: “Very well, thank you.”)
Morning worship service was not only very inspirational but also very emotional. Cecil, an elder at a church of Christ in Florida, who was also here for the lectureship, gave the communion talk. He spoke from the heart about his church combining membership with a non C of C entity and
being ostracized from a place he had been a key force in for many years.
Keith was prepared to give a sermon on “HOPE” (I know, because I had asked him Saturday), but Cecil’s testimony moved him to speak of his own Christian life battles. You know, I just don’t get it. Christians are commanded to love each other. Traditions, philosophies, disagreements should not matter--a common belief in Christ and the Bible, trying to live a Christ-like life, helping others…these basic things should be our focus. No wonder people take the nondenominational route--they don’t get bogged down with the inane things like instrumental music, raising hands, clapping….
Before our performance that night I had a good talk with Keith. Appreciated what he and Cecil had said. What a neat guy with a great sense of humor! Told Keith if I ever were to move to Northern Alabama, Creekside would gain one new member. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that same chance to talk to Cecil.
The Praise Band was on stage ready to start. Have always enjoyed their performances. Now I was part of this group and standing in front of the Yamaha keyboard. Camille, one of our teens, was to sing the first song. During practice, Camille had trouble projecting. Before she was to perform, told her to think American Idol audition with Simon sitting there (actually I wanted to tell her to picture Greg as Simon--that would make anyone belt out in song). Camille has a sweet voice and didn’t disappoint. Other guests performers: Randy who sang and played guitar and Keith who played the drums. Very talented. The regulars: 1) Steve who looks the part with beard and longer hair, a diverse player of several instruments with an exceptional voice; 2) Ross who plays bass and as Keith noted “fast as greased lightin’”; to me the knowledgeable professional; 3) Greg who is musically gifted but not sure he actually believes it, and now with facial hair looks quite bandish, meaning belongs in a band (okay, so I made up that word). Seem to remember the growth as a Pepperdine tradition, but maybe I’m mistaken. However, it looks good and he should keep it. Miss hearing Joanna sing with the band since she’s been away to college. Think she has a “voice of an angel” and should be the next American Idol.
Greg gave me a nice introduction and said I “blew him away.” Not sure of his meaning, but that would be the last thing to describe my playing. Although having dabbled on a keyboard for 40 years, if you were to calculate actual playing time, I doubt it would total five years. The one who would blow somebody away would be the regular keyboard player, Daniel, a junior in high school. He’s a member of his school’s jazz band and has played some solo performances at church. Greg asked me to fill in for Daniel as he would be out of town at a jazz festival. (His mom told me the band placed first in their division, so kudos.) Talked to Daniel once and have tried to on several other occasions. He seems reserved and has his head down when passing by. Maybe it’s just me, but seems like most teens put their head down when approaching an adult; however, at times I catch myself doing the same thing. Thought Jonathan was shy and reserved, but he told me otherwise. Having a 21-year-old son, you’d think I could have a repartee with a teen without appearing to be a total dweeb (Mom asked if I made up that word too). Anyway, I’ve been invited to become a regular member of the band and think Daniel will be able to teach me a thing or two.
Still hard to believe I was on a stage playing music with a band (only in my wildest dreams). My parents had listened to me for an entire week practicing the songs along with a CD. Received many compliments and Mom said we sounded better than the artists on the CD. After the performance, we all enjoyed a meal and fellowship together.
Will just say this--Practicing, performing Sunday night, and being a part of a band is the biggest thrill this 50-year-old broad has seen in a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NG time!!!!!
************************************************************************
Just a side note--Again, want to thank you all for taking the time to read my blogs, whether you comment or not. It means the world to me and has been great therapy. I love each and every one of you.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
LIFE SUCKS!
This is the thought of the day; actually since last night. Feel like smashing, kicking, throwing, or hitting something (and/or someone) so writing this blog seems to be a much smarter thing to do. Besides, it’s good therapy and lets me vent, but do apologize to my few unfortunate readers who will have to put up with these few paragraphs of acute frustration.
So, three guesses. Mom says I shouldn’t write about everything, and this time she might be right. The job that was the be-all and end-all to my existence. Even had a few calls for interviews from companies I previously submitted applications to which were promptly turned down because of this great job I just landed. (Opportunities I needed many months ago when the job hunt was producing zero results.) This job--not so grand after all. Delayed in starting. Business down. Hours cut. A discombobulated mess. A dog that seems to run the show. Who brings a pet to work anyway? It may be all the rage (at least in that area) but doesn’t work for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but not in a place of business that has nothing to do with the zoological field. (If my boss were to read this now--“To the unemployment line for you, Babe!”)
Although the owner/boss is very nice, it’s not worth going 21 miles for only 20 hours a week, in the hopes of being full time down the road (which I doubt will ever happen). Hate the commute and the wear and tear of the motor vehicle. And right now it is necessary for me to stay close to my parents. So, tomorrow, here I go again. “Sorry, but…..” and will stay until she gets somebody else.
But I do know things could be much worse, and this seems to keep me motivated and not to give up.
So, three guesses. Mom says I shouldn’t write about everything, and this time she might be right. The job that was the be-all and end-all to my existence. Even had a few calls for interviews from companies I previously submitted applications to which were promptly turned down because of this great job I just landed. (Opportunities I needed many months ago when the job hunt was producing zero results.) This job--not so grand after all. Delayed in starting. Business down. Hours cut. A discombobulated mess. A dog that seems to run the show. Who brings a pet to work anyway? It may be all the rage (at least in that area) but doesn’t work for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but not in a place of business that has nothing to do with the zoological field. (If my boss were to read this now--“To the unemployment line for you, Babe!”)
Although the owner/boss is very nice, it’s not worth going 21 miles for only 20 hours a week, in the hopes of being full time down the road (which I doubt will ever happen). Hate the commute and the wear and tear of the motor vehicle. And right now it is necessary for me to stay close to my parents. So, tomorrow, here I go again. “Sorry, but…..” and will stay until she gets somebody else.
But I do know things could be much worse, and this seems to keep me motivated and not to give up.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
VIRTUOSO
Sensation. Genius. Consummate. Masterful. Superstar. What great words to describe someone with musical talent. Wish those words could describe my musical flair. Although having dabbled with a musical instrument for 40 years, the words used would be more like inept, amateur, unskilled, rookie, neophyte, benchwarmer, loser, second-stringer, untrained, and greenhorn (never heard this one before, but sounds cool). Had I known how much fun music could be, might have strived for greatness on a keyboard and play at functions or become part of a band or even discover my own prodigy.
My parents bought an organ when I was about 10. Took lessons for a couple of years until my brother and I decided we didn’t want to take them anymore (or maybe we just didn’t like to practice). Have difficulty remembering a lot of specific details about the past which Mom contributes to my car accident over 20 years ago. Really have no recollection why my parents would buy an organ. Why an organ over a piano or some other “normal” musical instrument? All I remember is that when I went to my friends’ houses, they had pianos, and I wanted to sit down and play. Mom said she encouraged the organ because she liked the sound and my brother and I had no preference. Also, you didn’t have to be able to play very well to actually sound good. (You don’t suppose she was trying to avoid hours of excruciating pain listening to us practice?)
Even though my brother and I were no longer taking lessons, my parents kept the organ mainly for looks. Imagine many people have a baby grand in their living room and never tinkle the ivories. I decided to keep playing but never did understand the reason for sharps or flats and if chords were fancier than a C7, forget it. I’d find a familiar chord that sounded on pitch, although still knowing it was wrong. When we took lessons, had to play music from my parents’ generation (ugh) so I bought music books with the current pop songs, specifically 1972 and 1975 and played them as written. Thought playing straight chords was juvenile and not very challenging. Bought some other sheet music and my goal was to learn to play as written (and sound as good as) Simon & Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” I’ve yet to attain that goal. Now, if I could play all of Elton John’s and Lionel Richie’s hits and sound as good…..WHAT A FEAT!!!!
The organ became my possession when I got married and since it was never maintained, the keys and pedals eventually started wearing out. The organ followed us in all our moves until we left Austin and it found its way back into my parents’ living room. The organ was very heavy and it cost extra to transport so my parents decided to sell it after they sold their house in Oceanside and move to Long Beach. Keyboards are the trend and a lot less cumbersome.
This past summer I really missed playing and someone recommended going to Guitar Center. (Now, who do you suppose that could have been?) I purchased a Yamaha keyboard and checked out a book from the library. Not only did I learn the mechanics of music, it actually made sense (so that’s how you decipher sharps and flats) and was able to read the notes much easier (not perfect though by any means). The only drawback was going from two keyboards down to one. If only I had done this 40 years ago, who knows what could have been. There also is a claim that playing a musical instrument is good therapy, and heaven knows I could use a dose of that at any time.
As I mentioned in my previous blog, I was asked by one of the illustrious Praise Band members to rehearse and play keyboard during April’s Sunday Celebration. My dad’s unfortunate trip to the ER cancelled the first rehearsal but Greg, Steve and I practiced for a while Saturday night. They said I played well which was a relief and made me feel good but still felt somewhat skeptical. But, hey, they’re church people, and you know church people don’t lie.
This past week I practiced several hours a day and probably played more in a week’s time than I’ve played since purchasing my keyboard last summer. On Friday, I got to play in another setting and could crank up the sound of the CD player and keyboard. Except for lunch and an occasional stretch break, I played for about 6-½ hours. What a blast!! Even practiced my signing on some of the songs I didn’t yet have the lead sheets for. Don’t remember having so much fun and could have kept going, but you can only have so much of a good thing (and my fingers, neck, and back were getting stiff). Since the start of my new job is delayed for another week, I’ll spend the time practicing and it won’t have to be in a boxed up studio apartment with the volume down to barely audible.
Still have a couple of weeks to practice and about three rehearsals before the big event--my debut….my coming out….. Will be nervous. Will be anxious. Will wear my pinkie ring. Will be glad when it’s over (just kidding). More than likely, it will be in my blood and will have to start my own band (yeah, when you know what freezes over).
When things calm down, when time permits, and when I save up a little money, might utilize the services of a music teacher to help me accomplish my goal and set a deadline--By the end of this year, I’ll play “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as written.
I’ll keep you posted on the trials and tribulations of Debbie’s musical aspirations.
My parents bought an organ when I was about 10. Took lessons for a couple of years until my brother and I decided we didn’t want to take them anymore (or maybe we just didn’t like to practice). Have difficulty remembering a lot of specific details about the past which Mom contributes to my car accident over 20 years ago. Really have no recollection why my parents would buy an organ. Why an organ over a piano or some other “normal” musical instrument? All I remember is that when I went to my friends’ houses, they had pianos, and I wanted to sit down and play. Mom said she encouraged the organ because she liked the sound and my brother and I had no preference. Also, you didn’t have to be able to play very well to actually sound good. (You don’t suppose she was trying to avoid hours of excruciating pain listening to us practice?)
Even though my brother and I were no longer taking lessons, my parents kept the organ mainly for looks. Imagine many people have a baby grand in their living room and never tinkle the ivories. I decided to keep playing but never did understand the reason for sharps or flats and if chords were fancier than a C7, forget it. I’d find a familiar chord that sounded on pitch, although still knowing it was wrong. When we took lessons, had to play music from my parents’ generation (ugh) so I bought music books with the current pop songs, specifically 1972 and 1975 and played them as written. Thought playing straight chords was juvenile and not very challenging. Bought some other sheet music and my goal was to learn to play as written (and sound as good as) Simon & Garfunkel’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” I’ve yet to attain that goal. Now, if I could play all of Elton John’s and Lionel Richie’s hits and sound as good…..WHAT A FEAT!!!!
The organ became my possession when I got married and since it was never maintained, the keys and pedals eventually started wearing out. The organ followed us in all our moves until we left Austin and it found its way back into my parents’ living room. The organ was very heavy and it cost extra to transport so my parents decided to sell it after they sold their house in Oceanside and move to Long Beach. Keyboards are the trend and a lot less cumbersome.
This past summer I really missed playing and someone recommended going to Guitar Center. (Now, who do you suppose that could have been?) I purchased a Yamaha keyboard and checked out a book from the library. Not only did I learn the mechanics of music, it actually made sense (so that’s how you decipher sharps and flats) and was able to read the notes much easier (not perfect though by any means). The only drawback was going from two keyboards down to one. If only I had done this 40 years ago, who knows what could have been. There also is a claim that playing a musical instrument is good therapy, and heaven knows I could use a dose of that at any time.
As I mentioned in my previous blog, I was asked by one of the illustrious Praise Band members to rehearse and play keyboard during April’s Sunday Celebration. My dad’s unfortunate trip to the ER cancelled the first rehearsal but Greg, Steve and I practiced for a while Saturday night. They said I played well which was a relief and made me feel good but still felt somewhat skeptical. But, hey, they’re church people, and you know church people don’t lie.
This past week I practiced several hours a day and probably played more in a week’s time than I’ve played since purchasing my keyboard last summer. On Friday, I got to play in another setting and could crank up the sound of the CD player and keyboard. Except for lunch and an occasional stretch break, I played for about 6-½ hours. What a blast!! Even practiced my signing on some of the songs I didn’t yet have the lead sheets for. Don’t remember having so much fun and could have kept going, but you can only have so much of a good thing (and my fingers, neck, and back were getting stiff). Since the start of my new job is delayed for another week, I’ll spend the time practicing and it won’t have to be in a boxed up studio apartment with the volume down to barely audible.
Still have a couple of weeks to practice and about three rehearsals before the big event--my debut….my coming out….. Will be nervous. Will be anxious. Will wear my pinkie ring. Will be glad when it’s over (just kidding). More than likely, it will be in my blood and will have to start my own band (yeah, when you know what freezes over).
When things calm down, when time permits, and when I save up a little money, might utilize the services of a music teacher to help me accomplish my goal and set a deadline--By the end of this year, I’ll play “Bridge Over Troubled Water” as written.
I’ll keep you posted on the trials and tribulations of Debbie’s musical aspirations.
Monday, April 2, 2007
LIFE CHANGES - THE SEQUEL
It still amazes me how one’s life can change so suddenly, whether it be in a split second or a few days. I have experienced both, the former being as recent as yesterday. Wonder why we can’t experience these changes only once in life? But I guess that wouldn’t be life.
It would be a typical Sunday--well almost. Walk four miles, play tennis, eat breakfast, go to church, and eat lunch with Mom and Dad. Usually have a blank social calendar but this afternoon I would be rehearsing with the Praise Band and possibly play keyboard on a couple of songs for April’s Sunday Celebration. I was very apprehensive but also very excited. Never have played before anyone but family and never with a band. There was a pinky ring I used to wear as a good luck charm when I interpreted and hadn’t worn it since. Today seemed to be an appropriate time to wear it once again.
As I sat waiting for Bible Class to start, Mom and Dad walked in. For several weeks Dad has been having trouble just walking a short distance from the retirement facility to church without getting winded and stopping numerous times. Today was no exception and Mom said Dad felt dizzy and more confused than usual. I didn’t think Dad’s coloring looked good. Mom was concerned and asked Dad if he wanted to go. Thought she meant home but she meant hospital. A debate ensued whether I should take Dad or call the ambulance. Greg called 9-1-1 and waited outside to guide the paramedics. They arrived within five minutes but, hey, they come to the retirement and assistant living facilities next door almost on a daily basis. Imagine they were somewhat surprised that the emergency was at church. Dad got very emotional, a not too familiar sight from the man who is constantly cracking jokes and making others laugh. He looked scared and was having trouble catching his breath. Many in class seemed to be stunned and as the paramedics attended to Dad, I could hear Chuck in the background offering up words of prayer. When circumstances close to home occur, they seem so surreal, like you’re watching from the inside out. I used to get visibly and verbally upset during these times, but the years with Carl taught me to be calm and collected in crisis situations.
When the paramedics took Dad, I drove Mom down to the ER. (It’s nice being so close to the hospital.) Joe, a member at church who is a cardiac nurse came down and sat with us. Not only was it a comfort having a friend with medical knowledge there, it also was gratifying for all of us to get to know each other better. The wait was long as is typical in the ER and family members took turns to go see Dad. Dad was completing the preparation stages to have a bypass soon and this incident led us to believe Dad would be getting that bypass sooner than anticipated. Greg, Janice, Steve, and Laura dropped by to check on Dad. Everyone seemed quite surprised that Dad would probably be released. Bruce came by just before Dad walked out. Yes, I said walked out. (Always thought hospitals had policies about patients leaving in a wheelchair.) When I drove my parents home, Dad got out and opened the car door for my mom. Typical Dad; always the gentleman. When I crossed the church parking lot, Chuck drove up. He had been to the hospital and was surprised that Dad was gone.
We’re blessed to have such loving and caring friends as we do at Long Beach.
It would be a typical Sunday--well almost. Walk four miles, play tennis, eat breakfast, go to church, and eat lunch with Mom and Dad. Usually have a blank social calendar but this afternoon I would be rehearsing with the Praise Band and possibly play keyboard on a couple of songs for April’s Sunday Celebration. I was very apprehensive but also very excited. Never have played before anyone but family and never with a band. There was a pinky ring I used to wear as a good luck charm when I interpreted and hadn’t worn it since. Today seemed to be an appropriate time to wear it once again.
As I sat waiting for Bible Class to start, Mom and Dad walked in. For several weeks Dad has been having trouble just walking a short distance from the retirement facility to church without getting winded and stopping numerous times. Today was no exception and Mom said Dad felt dizzy and more confused than usual. I didn’t think Dad’s coloring looked good. Mom was concerned and asked Dad if he wanted to go. Thought she meant home but she meant hospital. A debate ensued whether I should take Dad or call the ambulance. Greg called 9-1-1 and waited outside to guide the paramedics. They arrived within five minutes but, hey, they come to the retirement and assistant living facilities next door almost on a daily basis. Imagine they were somewhat surprised that the emergency was at church. Dad got very emotional, a not too familiar sight from the man who is constantly cracking jokes and making others laugh. He looked scared and was having trouble catching his breath. Many in class seemed to be stunned and as the paramedics attended to Dad, I could hear Chuck in the background offering up words of prayer. When circumstances close to home occur, they seem so surreal, like you’re watching from the inside out. I used to get visibly and verbally upset during these times, but the years with Carl taught me to be calm and collected in crisis situations.
When the paramedics took Dad, I drove Mom down to the ER. (It’s nice being so close to the hospital.) Joe, a member at church who is a cardiac nurse came down and sat with us. Not only was it a comfort having a friend with medical knowledge there, it also was gratifying for all of us to get to know each other better. The wait was long as is typical in the ER and family members took turns to go see Dad. Dad was completing the preparation stages to have a bypass soon and this incident led us to believe Dad would be getting that bypass sooner than anticipated. Greg, Janice, Steve, and Laura dropped by to check on Dad. Everyone seemed quite surprised that Dad would probably be released. Bruce came by just before Dad walked out. Yes, I said walked out. (Always thought hospitals had policies about patients leaving in a wheelchair.) When I drove my parents home, Dad got out and opened the car door for my mom. Typical Dad; always the gentleman. When I crossed the church parking lot, Chuck drove up. He had been to the hospital and was surprised that Dad was gone.
We’re blessed to have such loving and caring friends as we do at Long Beach.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
HUCKLEBERRY PIE
H U Huckle
B U Buckle
T U Tuckle Y
H U Huckle
B U Buckle
Huckleberry Pie.
That little ditty is the first thing that comes to mind when thinking about my grandmother. That was her version and she recited it often. I absolutely adored my grandmother. No "Nana" or "Grams;" just "Grandmother." My favorite relative to visit. My favorite relative to be around. Grandmother just made me feel good. She was feisty. She was spunky. She had a mind of her own. She was a stubborn cuss. Dad said Mom, Grandmother, and I were three peas in a pod. I always resented that statement, and Dad said it a lot, but now... Na, I'm honored to be compared to her.
Most of our summer trips were spent visiting relatives in Oklahoma and Missouri. My grandparents lived in a mobile home, and I always enjoyed spending time with them. Grandmother was a great cook and we ate well. Grandmother also took the time to play games and one of our favorites was caroom. This game was played on a square board with four netted pockets on each side. You use a cue stick to hit a round, white playing piece into a pile of shiny, round red and green pieces and try to get your designated color into one of the pockets. Grandmother didn't use the cue stick. She smacked that sucker around like a marble with thumb and middle finger. Of course, I had to lose the cue stick as well and the only thing I ever came away with were sore nails. Yes, Grandmother was tough.
Mom's brother had a stroke when he was 44 and moved in with my grandparents six years later. After Granddad died, the burden was all upon my grandmother's shoulders, and she did it for 18 years.
Grandmother's favorite place was the yard and flower bed--well, at least that's where she spent a lot of her time. She mowed the lawn, trimmed and edged, and knelt down in the flower beds to weed until she was 89 years old. Unfortunately, Grandmother's mowing days ended once the mower threw a rod which ruined the motor. It was as if she had lost her best friend.
Grandmother took aspirin and pain pills and developed bleeding ulcers--huge holes in the lining of her stomach with profuse bleeding. She was admitted to the ICU and Grandmother became confused and didn’t even believe she was in the hospital. She even palmed her meds and believed the nurses were trying to kill her. To ensure her safety, Grandmother had to be strapped down to the bed. Every time anyone came into her room, Grandmother pointed to the straps and asked, “Do you have a knife or a pair of scissors?” Later she had a stroke and was never the same.
Toward the end Grandmother was transported down from Houston to Austin into a nursing home to be closer to us. It was difficult going to see her and tears rolled down my face as I caught just a slight glimpse. Grandmother was asleep. She looked so weak and so fragile. Not the vibrant, gutsy lady that brightened up my days. The main thing I noticed was the sunken mouth and on the nightstand lay her set of false teeth. It's odd how the facial structure changes when one's teeth are gone. Visiting with Grandmother would have to wait for another day.
When we went back the next morning, the tears started falling before I could even get out of the car. I knew the end was near, and I didn't want to lose the person who made me smile and made me laugh. Grandmother was my role model…my rock…my heart. As I walked in her room, our eyes met. Although she could not speak, her eyes lit up--I knew she recognized me and believed it gave her comfort. That would be my last memory.
Grandmother died in 1999, two months short of her 95th birthday. Mom has always said Grandmother would have gotten the biggest kick knowing she died on April Fool's Day.
Whether it was true or not, I always thought I was her favorite. Although never really telling her the depth of my love, I'm sure Grandmother knew, possibly when our eyes met on that final day.
B U Buckle
T U Tuckle Y
H U Huckle
B U Buckle
Huckleberry Pie.
That little ditty is the first thing that comes to mind when thinking about my grandmother. That was her version and she recited it often. I absolutely adored my grandmother. No "Nana" or "Grams;" just "Grandmother." My favorite relative to visit. My favorite relative to be around. Grandmother just made me feel good. She was feisty. She was spunky. She had a mind of her own. She was a stubborn cuss. Dad said Mom, Grandmother, and I were three peas in a pod. I always resented that statement, and Dad said it a lot, but now... Na, I'm honored to be compared to her.
Most of our summer trips were spent visiting relatives in Oklahoma and Missouri. My grandparents lived in a mobile home, and I always enjoyed spending time with them. Grandmother was a great cook and we ate well. Grandmother also took the time to play games and one of our favorites was caroom. This game was played on a square board with four netted pockets on each side. You use a cue stick to hit a round, white playing piece into a pile of shiny, round red and green pieces and try to get your designated color into one of the pockets. Grandmother didn't use the cue stick. She smacked that sucker around like a marble with thumb and middle finger. Of course, I had to lose the cue stick as well and the only thing I ever came away with were sore nails. Yes, Grandmother was tough.
Mom's brother had a stroke when he was 44 and moved in with my grandparents six years later. After Granddad died, the burden was all upon my grandmother's shoulders, and she did it for 18 years.
Grandmother's favorite place was the yard and flower bed--well, at least that's where she spent a lot of her time. She mowed the lawn, trimmed and edged, and knelt down in the flower beds to weed until she was 89 years old. Unfortunately, Grandmother's mowing days ended once the mower threw a rod which ruined the motor. It was as if she had lost her best friend.
Grandmother took aspirin and pain pills and developed bleeding ulcers--huge holes in the lining of her stomach with profuse bleeding. She was admitted to the ICU and Grandmother became confused and didn’t even believe she was in the hospital. She even palmed her meds and believed the nurses were trying to kill her. To ensure her safety, Grandmother had to be strapped down to the bed. Every time anyone came into her room, Grandmother pointed to the straps and asked, “Do you have a knife or a pair of scissors?” Later she had a stroke and was never the same.
Toward the end Grandmother was transported down from Houston to Austin into a nursing home to be closer to us. It was difficult going to see her and tears rolled down my face as I caught just a slight glimpse. Grandmother was asleep. She looked so weak and so fragile. Not the vibrant, gutsy lady that brightened up my days. The main thing I noticed was the sunken mouth and on the nightstand lay her set of false teeth. It's odd how the facial structure changes when one's teeth are gone. Visiting with Grandmother would have to wait for another day.
When we went back the next morning, the tears started falling before I could even get out of the car. I knew the end was near, and I didn't want to lose the person who made me smile and made me laugh. Grandmother was my role model…my rock…my heart. As I walked in her room, our eyes met. Although she could not speak, her eyes lit up--I knew she recognized me and believed it gave her comfort. That would be my last memory.
Grandmother died in 1999, two months short of her 95th birthday. Mom has always said Grandmother would have gotten the biggest kick knowing she died on April Fool's Day.
Whether it was true or not, I always thought I was her favorite. Although never really telling her the depth of my love, I'm sure Grandmother knew, possibly when our eyes met on that final day.
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