Smell My Feet

It's that time of year again. How can you not love a holiday that involves getting dressed up and eating chocolate? She was telling us about her dad who passed away several years ago, and how much he loved Halloween. When she was little, he took her trick or treating. And once she was all grown up, he did the trick or treating himself. He and two of his buddies would get in costume and walk their neighborhood every Halloween night with their glasses in hand, hoping that the neighbors would pour an adult beverage in there. Now this was a man who knew how to have fun.

I wonder what the guys might have said? Something like, "Trick or treat, don't be a fink, give me something good to drink," or "Trick or treat, have no fear, all I want is a cold beer..."

Happy Halloween!

Susan

Playing Small

"Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so other people won't feel insecure around you." Marianne Williamson

Doing my best is very important to me. Over the years I have tempered my perfectionist traits, but I do enjoy being competent and giving my all. Excellence is something I value very much. So when my general manager at work called a meeting with me on Saturday, I was happy to find that she is very pleased with the progress I've made three months in to my new position. I received a promotion in July. I love my job, and I look forward to going to work. During the course of the conversation, the manager told me of a few upcoming changes that will be taking place that involve me, and I am delighted. It is very exciting.

In smaller stores within our company, there is just one person who has my position. Since our store is quite large in volume, there are two of us. The other person has been in the position for several months longer than I have. Earlier that same day, the manager had a meeting with my counterpart, and the manager told me that while the same subjects were covered, "it was a very different conversation." This other woman, whom I like very much, is struggling as much as I am excelling. I didn't get the impression that my boss had any other motivation in telling me, other than to give me a complete picture of how things in our area are functioning. Comparisons were drawn between me and her, and I became uncomfortable.

Since then, I find that my colleague has become more deferential to me, and I hope she doesn't feel inferior. You see, I want to be the best, but I don't want anyone else to feel bad about it. I guess I want to be number one, but I don't want there to have to be a number two or three or four. I know it doesn't work that way.

I hesitated to write about it, because it sounds like I am arrogant perhaps. As if I am so fabulous, I must constantly downplay myself. I want to shrink a little, so no one thinks that I am such a big deal. Toward the end of the conversation, I asked my boss if there was something I might to do to support my colleague, and she replied that I was already doing much more than my half.

I guess I would like to help lift her up, but she needs to do that for herself. And I don't do her or anyone else any favors by turning into a shrinking violet. So I'll just be me, the best me I can possibly be. I won't play small.

Susan

A Waitress in a Cocktail Bar

I recently wrote about the new Muzak we have in the store where I work, and how much I love it. My colleagues? Not so much. While I haven't polled all 64 employees, so far everyone hates it but me. One of my co-workers said, "It's the worst music of the 80's and 90's." Really?

So here's another selection. Enjoy! Or don't enjoy, as the case may be.

Susan

"Don't You Want Me?"written by Philip Oakley, Jo Callis and Philip Adrian Wright

Confession

I have a confession to make. I got home from work a little after 6:30 tonight and made some coffee, wanting to be alert  to do some homework. I have all online classes this semester, so it's all "home" work. Here I am three hours later, and I haven't done any school work at all. It's a boy. He has me distracted. More than a little.

I watched some TV. And when I say "some," I mean "a lot." Okay. I'll just say it straight out. I have a major crush on Tony Micelli. Don't judge. I'm probably not the only girl in the world who has felt this way about him. In case you don't remember him, he's the cutie pie housekeeper on the 1980's sitcom "Who's the Boss?" You may be thinking, oh yes, Tony Danza. No. I am not crushing on Tony Danza, the actor, the actual human being. I heart Tony Micelli.

It's funny, because when this program was on prime time television (1984-1992) I rarely watched it. I thought his Brooklyn accent kind of irritating, and he seemed a little dumb. And Angela Bower, the woman he worked for? She seemed so uptight, and for goodness' sake, aren't the two of them ever going to get together?

Now more than twenty years later, it's all happening for me. I was channel surfing and found that "Who's the Boss?" reruns were on this new station. I started watching when they were in Season 1, when widower Tony applies for the job of housekeeper at the Bower residence. He and his little daughter Samantha move in with the divorced advertising executive Angela and her little guy Jonathan. And don't forget Mona, Angela's mother and the one who found Tony in the first place. They become this really unlikely but very lovely family. The writers were very talented in how they showed the relationship between Tony and Angela unfold over the years, in a very believable way.

It is just the sweetest show. Funny and clever and heart warming, and if ever two people were meant to be together, if ever two people had chemistry, it's Angela and Tony. So he's my new crush, and although I guess I should be, I'm not even jealous at all of Angela.

I also know the answer to the show title's question. Angela is Tony's employer. Angela writes Tony's paychecks. But Who's the Boss? Tony is the boss. And now I think his Brooklyn accent is adooooorable, I must confess.

Susan

"Steppin' Out" written by Joe Jackson

The Muzak Man

The other day the Muzak man came into the store where I work, to install a new system. Our new music is wonderful. So yesterday I walked in the front door of our very large store, heading to the very back where we clock in. It was all I could do not to dance right down the aisle by Dinnerware and Wall Art as this song was playing. From one of my favorite movies, "Flashdance."

Enjoy!

"What a Feeling" written by Georgio Moroder, Keith Forsey and Irene Cara

Susan

Wild Flowers

"Wild Flower" written by Doug Edwards and Dave Richardson

Lately I have had some younger women cross my path who have difficult relationships with their mothers. Not the perfectly normal head butting that may take place during the teenage years, over curfews broken or school work neglected. These young women have been abused by their mothers. Just like I was.

It's like this big club, and none of us ever wanted to join it. I hear the sadness in their voices. I see the pain in their eyes as they tentatively describe it. I sense the shame they seem to feel, that it is somehow their fault. They blurt something out, and then they backtrack a little to make an excuse for their mothers, to give these older women the benefit of the doubt. They shyly share their stories, and then I see it. The spark of recognition when I tell them, oh yes, my mother used to do that to me, too. My mother used to say that to me.

Some bloggers don't use their real names, but Susan is my real name. It is Hebrew for "lily." A couple of years ago, I wanted to get my first tattoo and my daughter-in-law took me to her tattoo artist. We exchanged names, I told him I was Susan and he asked what I had in mind. I said I wanted it near my ankle, my initial "S" for my name and a flower. That's all I told him. He came back about ten minutes later with a sketch, and there was my initial entwined with a lily. Was that just a coincidence, or did he look up the meaning of my name? I didn't ask, but I loved his art and creativity.

These younger women that I am telling you about don't deserve what they get from their mothers. They are good girls. They are talented and beautiful and loving, and against the odds they are blooming where they are planted. In some pretty rocky soil, and without a lot of sunlight. And still they grow. And still they bloom. They are wild flowers, because they have not been carefully cultivated like some girls who have loving, devoted mothers. They have to figure a lot of things out for themselves, and they make their share of mistakes. They are not fragile flowers, but sometimes I treat them like they are. They deserve an extra helping of kindness and love. I am blessed to know them. Their fragrance is so sweet.

Susan

Urgent or Important

"To forget one's purpose is the commonest form of stupidity." Friedrich Nietzsche

I have been thinking about all the details of our lives, and how we sometimes might mistake the urgent for the important. The urgent is right there up in our face, demanding our time and attention. "This must be done now! Immediately! Yesterday, if not sooner! Drop what you are doing and take care of this right now!" it screams.

The important can be much more subtle, quietly tugging on our sleeve for a while, then walking away quietly when it fails to get our attention.

The urgent is the dinner that must be prepared. The important is the child who puts his arms up, asking to be held. The urgent is the client who calls and emails at all hours. The important is the spouse who would love to have a few minutes of our undivided attention. The urgent is the need to earn a living. The important is the desire to really live a  life.

It's safe to say that most of us in modern day America are very busy. It's easy to get our priorities out of order. It's easy to cave into the demands of the urgent, while ignoring the important. So here is what I am going to do. Today I am going to take a few deep breaths and contemplate what truly gives my life meaning. Today I am going to ask the urgent to sit down and take a number, and focus my full attention to what is important. I've been ignoring it too much lately.

Susan

Heart of Gold

"Heart of Gold" written by Neil Young

Susan