I was going to start this post with a rant (the bad words that I have excused from the room for today) but decided that is not the way to start a new year, so I pushed it to the side. I'll rant another day. Instead, I'll join the chorus of Babel since it's said in most languages on the planet: Happy New Year!
Further, I have decided the time has come for a new look for this little missive. The old was boring. I hope the new is more appealing. I like warm colors so that didn't change much, but the overall look is a bit different and, I do hope, more welcoming.
I hope you woke up safe, warm and hang-over free this morning. Personally, I have long since decided the new year will arrive whether or not I wait for it, so I was in bed at ten o'clock last night. Sure enough, it arrived and didn't even miss me. I knew when it got here because a bunch of neighbors were outside yelling and screaming and shooting off fireworks. I think the neighbors are getting old, too, because it didn't last every long. Maybe fifteen minutes or so.
Thinking of that now, I can just about picture some toothless old geezer sitting in a wheelchair, a rug draped over his knees, the stench of cordite swirling around him, his hands blackened with gunpowder. He's looking up at the night sky, chest heaving from the effort of striking the match, "Yep, it's here all right. That was exhausting! Ready for your prune juice Mabel?"
I also thought this morning about my chicken factory analogy from yesterday. That came a couple of years ago.
In 2012 I was let go after seventeen years working for the company I had been with. For the first three months after being "laid off", even the temporary market was barren. I got no calls - not even for something that would pay far less than my minimum. In hindsight, I suspect that it was because there was such a vast labor pool looking for temporary work but few opportunities, they cycled people through. I was at the end of the line and had to wait my turn. Once I started working, I worked fairly regularly.
In October 2012 I interviewed for a job. They wanted me but were in the midst of a restructuring. That lasted all of November and December (does the word 'frustrating' have meaning here?). I finally started working right after New Year and was doing well there.
Then, two months after I went to work there, Congress passed sequestration. The company for which I was working, a military contractor with contracts with a bunch of other military contractors, suddenly found itself holding contracts that were worthless. The companies with whom they had contracted had been hit by sequestration, too. End result, our general manager, my boss, was let go as part of a restructuring. This news came in the form of a division-wide meeting and it was while we were on our way to that that I first commented upon it being a chicken factory.
My 2012 chicken factory experience wasn't the result of my failing at my job. Instead, it was the result of competition - which is a fair basis for deciding which chicken gets hooked to the line with a Bad End. I worked for the CEO who was grooming his replacement. He wanted to step back and retire. It just happened this came at the same time that the company was suffering and needed to lay off a bunch of people. In the case, there were two chickens - one with stronger skills, the other with an 'in' with the manager needing support. The manager needing support had hired the other chicken and they had worked together for ten years. No contest and this little chicken was the one who got The Hook.
Looking back, that was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. I had been there long enough that I was getting stale in my job. Nothing was new, everything was routine, and I was getting bored (truth to tell).
Getting the boot (in the nicest possible way - they did invite me back for a three week guest appearance the year after letting me go) meant that I had a chance to try new things, see new things and learn new things. I may be an 'old dog' but I can learn new tricks and I enjoy it. It's another case of something 'bad' happening means a new opportunity arises.
So there's my backward look. My forward look is to new opportunities in personal life and in work life. That is one thing that is guaranteed. What is today won't be the same tomorrow or the day after.
Looking forward, I am making plans, deciding what I will do when the time comes and opportunity arises. I've even given thought to next Christmas and what I would like to do and have for dinner. It's pre-planning to the extreme perhaps, but it gives me a prize to strive for, something to work toward.
Life will take some major changes next year in all probability. MIL will celebrate her eighty-seventh birthday. My work situation is morphing - first into an aspect of A/P, more recently into the realm of A/R and who knows what might come next. There's the transfer I've requested and what might happen there. It's exciting to think about. There are other things, too, still private things and, when the time comes, they will become fodder for my blog so stay tuned!
In the meantime, I hope you and yours are well, safe, happy and healthy. I wish all of you only good things in the coming year - cheers!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Showing posts with label Past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Past. Show all posts
Friday, January 1, 2016
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
'tis The Season - Grumbling & Philosophy
Oh, yippitee skippitee, Scrooge is here.
The company holiday party (nope, not allowed to call it Christmas since someone might be offended) is coming up this Friday. I've had offers of hand-holding from a number of people so even though I don't really want to, I'm going. I'll sit with my hand-holding buds and shoot the breeze and will probably end up having a good time. There's going to be line dancing and, knowing me, I'll probably jump into that.
Heck - that'll be a trip down Memory Lane.
When I was about four my mom enrolled me in ballet classes not knowing that I'm a follow my own drummer personality. Or maybe she did and didn't care? I don't know. All I know is that at four years old any stage career I might have developed disappeared in the middle of a dance recital.
Black leotard with a short red tutu, a black overskirt with red polkadots. I remember that. I also remember being the one kid in the line of however many there were reaching to the ceiling while everyone else was bending to the floor and vice versa. It didn't go well. But I did get a bouquet of red roses from my favorite Aunt when it was all over.
This should be more fun though since I doubt anyone else, except maybe one or two hardcore country western listeners, will have a clue what they're doing either. In the end, it'll be fun and funny and a laugh and that's what it's all about.
With my buds and music I can pretend I'm sitting in a bar someplace. Although the room will no doubt be more brightly lit than the local bar.
Since I was in charge of the music I dove deep into my past and requested 'Twisting By The Pool' and 'The Sultans of Swing', both from Dire Straits.
Hopefully when it's all over everyone will look at everyone else and say, 'that was fun! Let's do it again next year!'
At home, we won't be celebrating the season because there's both too much and not enough going on.
MIL is becoming incontinent. Twice in the past few days hubby has been down on the floor scrubbing stains. I just hope, callously perhaps, for all of us that this phase doesn't last too long.
I spent an hour of my evening last night Googling about incontinence and its various forms. Imagine spending an evening Googling about excrement. Not pleasant. Not how I wanted to spend my evening, but what I did because we're looking for solutions. Is it dietary? Probably not, although it could be. We'll remove what we think is problematic - sodas, milk and dairy - and see what happens. Is it related to her diabetes? Probably. Nerves don't work so she doesn't necessarily know when it's time. It's also simply a part of aging. And this is where it gets into things I really didn't know about, and won't share because, who knows, maybe you'd like to spend a couple of hours Googling about incontinence in the elderly and its causes.
Unfortunately, there don't seem to be any solutions. This is end-stage and it's only a question of how much longer. Weeks, perhaps months but no longer based on what I read. This isn't something that goes for years, so there is a bright spot - caused by bleach on the carpet in the living room.
Maybe I shouldn't say this here, but I am determined, after seeing how my parents went out and seeing how MIL is going out, not to do it as she's doing it.
Dad died of cancer at home, surrounded by family. It was hard to watch but it was over in a matter of months. No dragging it out.
Mom, sadly, died of a long-term infection, but she retained her dignity up to the last several months when the pain for her and the burden of caring for the infection got to be too much for my SIL and brother. Up until the end she had her marbles. She could speak and decide for herself, and she decided when the time had come to move into assisted living. She did, and a few months later was gone, but there was none of the stress of caretaking a senile person who has trouble formulating sentences and thoughts, who struggles to get to the bathroom on time and who has trouble swallowing and throwing up half of what she eats on a regular basis.
If I reach that stage, I'm outta here. I will not burden my family with this kind of thing. I will not spend months or a year or more living like half-a-vegetable which is where we are with MIL. There are ways and I'll find one.
I think that's a major difference too. She fears death and I don't. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong, but thinking about it doesn't scare me. It's inevitable and is as much a part of living as being born.
I also wonder what's next because I don't believe it's a one-and-done. If it is, I won't know it anyway so I won't have a chance to be disappointed. If it's not, the next phase is something to look forward to. I think. Unless it's like Dante's Inferno and this is Level Three and I'm heading for Level Four or something. But, again, if it is, if I am, there's nothing I can do about it.
So the Holidays will come and go and January 1st will start our next calendar trip around the Sun. Things will change and others won't and it will be interesting to see what happens.
In the meantime, I hope you have a wonderful day and month and year and... Whatever the future brings your way.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
The company holiday party (nope, not allowed to call it Christmas since someone might be offended) is coming up this Friday. I've had offers of hand-holding from a number of people so even though I don't really want to, I'm going. I'll sit with my hand-holding buds and shoot the breeze and will probably end up having a good time. There's going to be line dancing and, knowing me, I'll probably jump into that.
Heck - that'll be a trip down Memory Lane.
When I was about four my mom enrolled me in ballet classes not knowing that I'm a follow my own drummer personality. Or maybe she did and didn't care? I don't know. All I know is that at four years old any stage career I might have developed disappeared in the middle of a dance recital.
Black leotard with a short red tutu, a black overskirt with red polkadots. I remember that. I also remember being the one kid in the line of however many there were reaching to the ceiling while everyone else was bending to the floor and vice versa. It didn't go well. But I did get a bouquet of red roses from my favorite Aunt when it was all over.
This should be more fun though since I doubt anyone else, except maybe one or two hardcore country western listeners, will have a clue what they're doing either. In the end, it'll be fun and funny and a laugh and that's what it's all about.
With my buds and music I can pretend I'm sitting in a bar someplace. Although the room will no doubt be more brightly lit than the local bar.
Since I was in charge of the music I dove deep into my past and requested 'Twisting By The Pool' and 'The Sultans of Swing', both from Dire Straits.
Hopefully when it's all over everyone will look at everyone else and say, 'that was fun! Let's do it again next year!'
At home, we won't be celebrating the season because there's both too much and not enough going on.
MIL is becoming incontinent. Twice in the past few days hubby has been down on the floor scrubbing stains. I just hope, callously perhaps, for all of us that this phase doesn't last too long.
I spent an hour of my evening last night Googling about incontinence and its various forms. Imagine spending an evening Googling about excrement. Not pleasant. Not how I wanted to spend my evening, but what I did because we're looking for solutions. Is it dietary? Probably not, although it could be. We'll remove what we think is problematic - sodas, milk and dairy - and see what happens. Is it related to her diabetes? Probably. Nerves don't work so she doesn't necessarily know when it's time. It's also simply a part of aging. And this is where it gets into things I really didn't know about, and won't share because, who knows, maybe you'd like to spend a couple of hours Googling about incontinence in the elderly and its causes.
Unfortunately, there don't seem to be any solutions. This is end-stage and it's only a question of how much longer. Weeks, perhaps months but no longer based on what I read. This isn't something that goes for years, so there is a bright spot - caused by bleach on the carpet in the living room.
Maybe I shouldn't say this here, but I am determined, after seeing how my parents went out and seeing how MIL is going out, not to do it as she's doing it.
Dad died of cancer at home, surrounded by family. It was hard to watch but it was over in a matter of months. No dragging it out.
Mom, sadly, died of a long-term infection, but she retained her dignity up to the last several months when the pain for her and the burden of caring for the infection got to be too much for my SIL and brother. Up until the end she had her marbles. She could speak and decide for herself, and she decided when the time had come to move into assisted living. She did, and a few months later was gone, but there was none of the stress of caretaking a senile person who has trouble formulating sentences and thoughts, who struggles to get to the bathroom on time and who has trouble swallowing and throwing up half of what she eats on a regular basis.
If I reach that stage, I'm outta here. I will not burden my family with this kind of thing. I will not spend months or a year or more living like half-a-vegetable which is where we are with MIL. There are ways and I'll find one.
I think that's a major difference too. She fears death and I don't. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong, but thinking about it doesn't scare me. It's inevitable and is as much a part of living as being born.
I also wonder what's next because I don't believe it's a one-and-done. If it is, I won't know it anyway so I won't have a chance to be disappointed. If it's not, the next phase is something to look forward to. I think. Unless it's like Dante's Inferno and this is Level Three and I'm heading for Level Four or something. But, again, if it is, if I am, there's nothing I can do about it.
So the Holidays will come and go and January 1st will start our next calendar trip around the Sun. Things will change and others won't and it will be interesting to see what happens.
In the meantime, I hope you have a wonderful day and month and year and... Whatever the future brings your way.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
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