Bad Day

I had to let someone go today. Sadly, it was a reflection of the volatile economic times. Call it downsizing, or a layoff, or whatever you want to call it. The bottom line is that we’re cutting our work force and it started with her.

If you’ve never been in this situation, you’re lucky. I do not relish this duty at all. It’s awkward from the moment you start walking toward that person, to asking her to go with you to talk privately, to sitting down across from her and thanking her for all the hard work she’s done, but…

My co-worker says I handled it beautifully with kid gloves and sensitivity. I hope so, but don’t feel any better about the fact that I know this woman’s income is gone, and that she was planning a vacation next March, and that we had to walk out of that room and back to our desks and finish our days as though we hadn’t just emerged from a huddle room with a plan to terminate her employment.

If it hasn’t happened to you, then it’s difficult to describe your demeanor afterward; the distance, the wall you put up between yourself and the rest of your officemates as you finish out the day and try to give the newly displaced person some dignity. I tried to walk away and let her have some privacy to speak freely about her feelings among her colleagues. I tried to tone down any frivolity that might have come up as a routine part of my day. I tried to stay somber and professional when all I really wanted to do was go home and not have to face her anymore.

I tried to imagine myself anywhere else and watched the clock until it was finally over.

Fat Pants

We pulled these off the rack at the local thrift store.

I think most women have at least one pair of "fat pants" - loose pants that you pull on when you're feeling bloated, big, or just need to feel comfortable. We often like to fool ourselves into thinking that our fat pants are somehow flattering, or at least disguise some of the "fat" that caused us to wear them in the first place. We certainly don't want to draw attention to ourselves on days like these, so I think the fat pants I picture here are out. I don't think I'd even wear them on a "skinny" day.

Third Time's A Charm?

NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month at nanowrimo.org) starts again today. Despite my upcoming travel and heavy workload, I decided to take part again. In fact, that's exactly why I decided to participate -- so that I do not lose sight of my writing life. Work could so easily get in the way. I'm not going to let it.

I first did NaNoWriMo two years ago when I completed my 50,000-word middle-grade novel The Witch Wore Pink. That was a huge high; a great accomplishment, and is work that I continue to be proud of.

Last year I started an alien abduction mystery I titled Out Of This World, but dropped out at the 32,000-word mark. I was stuck and couldn't figure out how to finish. I wish I'd persevered. I still want to finish that novel someday.

Today begins my third NaNoWriMo. I have no idea what I plan to write. I only vaguely know that it will be adult fiction, and I have my main character's name.  But what she does and how the novel will play out is completely unknown. I'm hoping that I will find that freeing. At least freeing enough to get me to 50,000 words of craptastic fiction. (We're encouraged to write crap. It's a first draft, after all.) We'll see how it goes. Hopefully the third time's a charm.

Halloween Night

“Mom! Mom!”

Mrs. Stewart hurried down the hall to her 10-year-old’s bedroom. She flung open the door and flipped on the light switch. Jeremy’s hand flew to his eyes. He squinted into the bright light, even as he lurched forward in his bed toward his mother.

“What is it?” she asked as she moved toward her son. Jeremy wrapped his arms tightly around his mother. She hugged him back and then gently pushed him back at arm’s length so that she could see his face. She involuntarily felt his forehead. It was cool. His anguish wasn’t caused by fever.

“Mom! I saw him! The Boogeyman!”

Mrs. Stewart’s shoulders relaxed. She’d worried there was something terribly wrong, but it had just been a nightmare.

“You were having a bad dream,” she told Jeremy as she smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. There’s no Boogeyman. Now get back to sleep.”

“Yes there is! I saw him!” Jeremy insisted. He whipped the blankets off his legs and pulled his mother toward the window. “Look!”

Mrs. Stewart made a show of peering out the window, searching the street for the Boogeyman. “I don’t see him. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Now get back to bed.”

“Look at the pumpkins,” Jeremy insisted. “They’re all lit up.”

“So?”

“We blew them out. Remember?”

Mrs. Stewart gazed down at the pumpkins guarding the front stoop. “We must not have blown them all the way out. I’ll take care of that. You need to get back to sleep.” Mrs. Stewart started to guide Jeremy back to bed but he pulled his arm away from her and stood firmly at the window.

“No, Mom. We did blow them out. They were out. But then the Boogeyman came and the pumpkins lit up again and scared him off.”

“Jeremy, you were just having a dream.”

“No, I wasn’t! I saw it! He came up through the grass, all black and scary-looking. He was almost to the porch when the pumpkins lit up like they were on fire and scared him away! He ran down the street to the O’Briens. Their pumpkins lit up and scared him off, too. I don’t know where he is now.”

“Okay. Well, the Boogeyman is gone now, and I’m going to go blow out the candles in the pumpkins. It’s getting late. You need to sleep.”

“You don’t believe me,” Jeremy said.

“Of course I do. Now get to bed.”

“Lock the door, Mom.”

“I will. Good night.”

Jeremy waited until she closed the door, then he jumped out of bed again and watched at the window. His mother pulled the tops off the pumpkins and blew out their lights. Jeremy saw the small wisps of smoke evaporate as his mother went back inside the house.

Jeremy waited there a moment longer. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black shadow move across the yard where no shadow should be. He sucked in his breath and ducked to the side of the window, out of sight. The Boogeyman was back. He inched across the lawn toward the front porch. Suddenly, the stoop was awash in light. The jack-o-lanterns grinned their triangular grins and the Boogeyman jumped back into the darkness.

Jeremy watched a while longer as pumpkins up and down the street suddenly glowed orange. The Boogeyman was nowhere to be seen. Satisfied the neighborhood was safe, he went back to bed.

Uniquely Chinese

I'm back from China. I've shared most of my stories, though I may share a few more in future posts. But for now, I'll post a few of my random street pictures; images that to me, are so uniquely Chinese. Enjoy!

Business in Beijing



Learning Salsa dancing to a Latinized version of "Stairway to Heaven."


As mentioned, I was in Beijing on business (though my posts looked more like a vacation, to be sure). But I was actually there for a training.

At the beginning of the training, the instructor put this quote up on the screen:

Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.

Then we modified that to Growth begins at the end of your comfort zone. And Learning begins at the end of your comfort zone. And Discovery begins at the end of your comfort zone. So, it should have been no surprise that we were going to be taken out of our comfort zones, though I'd already considered wandering alone in a country halfway around the world as having fulfilled that.

My comfort zone ended in a Chinese restaurant where no one spoke English and the menu offered up delicacies such as pig's ear, turtle, jellyfish, and pig snout. (Though the menu had English descriptions, no one spoke the language. I just pointed when I found a picture of beef.)

My comfort zone ended when I was trapped inside a tiny souvenir shop outside the Great Wall by a large, aggressive seller who wasn't going to let me leave without a sale. She forced me to haggle, and I got pretty good at it.

My comfort zone ended when I squatted over a toilet alongside a road in the country. And when I used chopsticks. And when I crossed the streets full of zigzagging traffic. I don't think I was ever actually inside my comfort zone in China.

But none of that compared to the networking activity after the training when our class of 47 Chinese twentysomethings and I were given Salsa dancing lessons and yoga instruction -- in Chinese.

Needless to say, I didn't understand a word and could barely keep up with the smooth-muscled gyrations of our incredibly talented instructor. She danced beautifully. I, on the other hand, could not even move in the right direction and managed to tangle myself up with my equally ungifted dancing partner. We managed to stay toward the back of the class for the Salsa lesson, but my new Chinese friends would not let me hide during yoga.

I found myself standing barefoot and flat with my back against a wall, watching the grimaces and exaggerated 'bad posture' examples of the yoga instructor. I thought I got the gist of what she was saying ("good posture is important"), but my new Chinese friends took it upon themselves to translate for me. And to contort my body into the correct yoga positions -- no matter how much my body resisted.

I left my comfort zone far behind, and wished for an outer body experience to leave my body behind, too. But true to the quote, I felt personal growth and achievement when I managed to twist my body in ways it really should never be twisted at all. It was a fantastic night of networking and camaraderie. The Chinese students were so gracious and friendly. I was taken out of my comfort zone, but found that I was grateful for that. That night turned out to be one of the most enjoyable of my trip.

Chinese Toilet Extremes

It seems there are two different types of toilets here in China. I got used to the squat toilets which I encountered nearly everywhere outside of my hotel. Again, my pre-reading served me well; I knew I needed to take my own toilet paper with me.

But then, I finally went into the office (since I was here on business, after all), and lo and behold, I found deluxe toilet accommodations! The seats were heated and there were all kinds of extra buttons to push. I read 'massage' and 'bidet' and 'shower pressure'; the rest was in Chinese. I was so tempted to push 'massage,' as gross as it actually seemed in a public toilet. I stopped myself. I was afraid of what might happen if I did. Instead I took pictures while everyone else in the Ladies' room watched my camera flash going off in my stall. I think I'd embarrassed myself enough by pushing the button on my camera. I didn't want to risk further embarrassment by pushing the 'massage' button on the toilet.



It's blurry, but I think you can read it.