Courage

If a kid shows courage in the woods, but no one sees it, was she brave?

I was nine, caught up in the raw beauty of the blazing bonfire. The heat on my face competed with chill of night air on my back. My eyes watered from the dusky smoke when the breeze shifted my way. The crackle and pop of damp kindling sent bright orange sparks into the crisp night air, like tiny fireworks. I knew to keep my distance.

My eyes tuned in to the bright light of the flames, making the darkness beyond the fire impenetrable. I could see the faces of the other campers gathered for the sing-along.

Everyone kept a safe distance from the flames.

Except for the kid across from me.

He was part of a loud group that had been disturbing my peace with nightly parties and loud music since their arrival a week before. Just after the sing-a long started, I noticed that his parents had left him sitting there and gone back to their party.

Finding himself suddenly alone, he stood searching.

He stepped forward.

He was wearing those footsie pajamas every little kid seemed to have in the 70s and I could see the white plastic sole of his foot, outstretched, and searching for a place to set down in the narrow space between the singers and the fire.

He threaded his way through; his gaze fixed on his cabin in the distance.

The pace of the music picked up. The neck of a guitar bobbed in time. Everyone clapped along.

The boy squeezed between the guitar and the fire. The guitarist swung his body with the music.

The kid lurched out of the way and into the flames.

Sparks flew up as the boy came down.

I looked for movement from the adults around the fire, but nobody moved. The clapping continued. The singers sang on.

Suddenly, a pair of hands hoisted the boy away from the blaze. His feet scraped a dark trail through the hot red coals. Flames flickered on his synthetic flannel pajamas. The hands beat down the flames and brushed away the glowing embers that clung to the melting vinyl soles of his pajama feet.

I looked down and realized that those hands were my own.

The kid scampered away without a word or a look back.

In his wake, the cool night air washed over me. Music again filled my ears.

I brushed the grey ash from my hands and was shocked that they were not burned. I sat there for a while, mouthing along with the singing. When the music and the fire finally tapered off, I headed to our cabin.

I didn't tell anyone until a few weeks later.

"Gramama," I whispered. "I was a hero!"

We stood alone in her dining room with only my play-dough sculptures watching us from a midst her treasures in the china cabinet. I admired her simple cotton dress knowing that she'd probably made it herself--a skill she'd begun to share with me. We'd just finished another one of her incredible meals and it filled my belly like courage.

I thought she would be proud.

"But Crissy,” she said, “if no one saw you, how do you know you were a hero?"

My throat tightened and I turned away so she couldn't see me biting my lip. I had been brave and fast—that was a hero in my book. No, I thought, it didn't matter that no one had noticed.

Years later, I Googled myself and was surprised to find my name, along with my husband's, in a police blotter column. It briefly mentioned how we had stopped to give aid at a car wreck. Had my grandmother been alive, I might have shown it to her and shared the story of another night when I battled fire, this time with a fire extinguisher and witnesses. I wonder what she would have said.

I can't ask her about it now.

Manspreading

I took a rare trip into New York City today. I had heard that manspreading was an issue, but I didn't realize how long it's been one. This building is practically a monument to it!

At Midnight...

Paul and I were watching At Midnight. They were playing #FML or #YOLO.

Paul: What's YOLO?

Me: You Only Live Once. I'm not sure what FML means.

Paul: Fuck My Life... You see, between the two of us, we're cool.

(Originally posted on March 13, 2014 on Lifeat30Feet.blogspot.com.)

The Yearly Tree Post

Tis the season to post about my Christmas Tree. As I've mentioned before, the tree has been up since 2009 and up until this year, it existed relatively untouched with the exception of adding new ornaments.

This is what it looked like.

That was before Roger.

Roger...or ROGER! as his name is properly pronounced, came to us in February. It was the morning before a huge snow storm. I was awoken from a sound sleep just before sunrise by the sound of a cat wailing. I thought one of our pride had gotten stuck somewhere, or locked in the hall, or maybe sick. But when I went downstairs to make a headcount, I found our cats safe and sound and Paul getting dressed to go out and investigate.

He didn't have to go far. This young cat—no longer a kitten, but not full grown—was huddled under our car. By the time I got to the kitchen window, the cat had come out and was circling Paul's legs.

What followed was this quick conversation.

"Should we?"

"You know what that means."

"The storm's coming, we can't leave him out here."

"Do you think he belongs to anyone?"

"He's friendly."

I passed some food out the window to Paul and the cat went for it.

"He's hungry."

"Should I open the back door?"

"The rule applies."

"I'll go open the door. We'll see what he does."

When I opened the door the cat came right in...and became ours—or we became his. You see, the rule is, if we let the pet cross the threshold, it's found a home.

We brought him up to my office, he looked around and (I swear) he sighed with relief before settling down for a nap.

What does all this have to do with the tree?

Well, at first Roger was docile. Probably because of the wound we found in his side. But once he healed he turned out to be every bit the energetic adolescent boy. He was always hungry, always getting into trouble, and always trying to get the other cats to chase him.

And once he healed completely, we learned he's a climber. That's when we learned that his name isn't "Roger" it's "ROGER!" as in ROGER! GET DOWN!

Over the last year, Roger has explored the joys of our Christmas tree. He's climbed every limb, cherry picked balls, and chased them around the house—don't worry, they're plastic.

I've taken all of our more fragile ornaments off, and the special ones that were gifts were placed in a box.

Finally, with little left to pull down from the tree's branches, Roger began taking down the branches.

Here's what our tree and Roger look like today.

I don't have the heart to take it down just yet. Roger enjoys it so much.

Maybe once the holidays are over...or maybe I'll just put it back together so he can start again. After all, it makes every day Christmas for Roger.

Because it's that time of year again...

The holiday hype started early this year. I was seeing Christmas in stores and TV commercials alongside Halloween costumes. I keep thinking back fondly to when the holiday hype didn't start till after Thanksgiving and I wonder if that was really in my lifetime.

Before the yearly opening salvos of "War on Christmas" bull start inundating the airwaves, I thought I'd share this post I wrote back in 2011.

Because "Happy Holidays" is a NICE Thing to Say...

Oh, and in case you don't follow me on Facebook, I've been plugging my Zazzle shop, as I do this time every year. I hope you'll come and check it out.

Zen and the Art of Toast

I incinerated my lunch...again.

This is a common occurrence. In fact, Wookie has more than once arrived home to find the still-smoking remnants of a melted cheese sandwich, bagel, or reheated pizza slice in the back yard.

Luckily, our toaster oven is right next to the kitchen window—making for easy disposal of burnt offerings before the kitchen fills with smoke.

While ours is a very old toaster oven (it was old when I brought it from my apartment nine years ago), the fault lies with me. The problem is that I lack the ability to be still and do nothing, and this greatly impacts my ability to make toast.

From the moment I push that button down, the time it takes to lightly toast a bagel stretches before me like an unproductive eternity. To distract myself, I find some way to fill the time, whether it's folding laundry, writing a blog post, or checking my email.

Inevitably, I become focused on that more interesting activity until that nagging feeling that I've forgotten something...or the smell of smoke...or Wookie's voice calling, "are you burning something?!" sends me rushing back to the kitchen.

This doesn't happen so much when I'm cooking on the stove-top. That's a more active endeavor—checking the flame, stirring, adding ingredients and tasting tend to be enough to keep my attention. Toast, on the other hand, is my nemesis.

I envy people who can be still. 

I often joke that the only time I'm not multi-tasking is when I'm underwater. There, amidst the fish and the sound of my own bubbles I manage to escape my need for more input. Of course, we always get breakfast out when we dive, so I don't have to worry about forgotten toast.

Happy Blogging Birthday!

Just a quick post to wish a very happy blogging birthday to one of my favorite blogs, The Reedster Speaks.

Cindy is my good friend, teacher and mentor. But most of all, she's courageous, honest and damn funny.

You'll laugh, you'll think, you'll shoot your beverage from your nose. (Best not to drink while reading the Reedster!)

Congratulations Reedster on an amazing year of blogging!

A New Year, A New Way

My first New Years Eve with Wookie was a cold night in 2003,standing on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River with a couple of cups of hot chocolate. The skies over the Hudson were quiet. And at midnight when the ball dropped in Times Square, I was shocked to find that I could hear the cheers of the city erupt with the new year.

It was magical and as fireworks lit the sky, I told Wookie I loved him too. (He'd been saying it since our first date, a week before on Christmas.)

This became our New Years Eve ritual for our first eight years together. Standing near that spot, on some very cold nights, waiting for the ball to drop, reflecting on our year and looking toward the future.

Over the years it became harder to hear the cheers. The night sky has become a buzz with low-flying helicopters. The skyline has changed. And our reflections have changed as well. We've had a few rough years and our conversations, as we've looked out over the black waters of the Hudson have turned to tales of survival.

We watched the fireworks saying "screw you Twenty-(Ten/ Eleven)! We survived!"  We faced the new year battle-scarred, exhausted, and more uncertain that hopeful.

Twenty-twelve was a hard year as well. We had our high points and triumphs, but we are not anywhere near where we'd like to be,

As much as I loved that we had created a holiday tradition for ourselves, I felt that to welcome the new year in the same way would be to invite more of the same. It was time for a change.

Yesterday was an amazing day.

It started with lunch with my college roommate Aimee. We had not seen each other since graduation—twenty years ago. Looking across the table at the diner was like looking back in time, except I had Wookie sitting next to me.

Aimee and I picked up where left off. Twenty years wiser, and with families and careers of our own. Two adults, but certainly not "grown-ups"—which I am certain is something we swore never to become. So one college goal well met!

After a very fun lunch and promises to see Aimee again soon, Wookie and I set off for our next stop—my last wedding of 2012.

Patricia and Larry had been together for 45 years and were finally tying the knot in an intimate ceremony at the Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ at The Rat's restaurant. As we gathered and got ready, I heard them say that we were actually at the site of their first date. That just made the celebration more magical.

It's hard to beat a wedding where the groom breaks out into a dance after he kisses his bride. That kind of joy is why I love being a Life-Cycle Celebrant. Wookie was by my side, and sharing that moment made it all the more special for me.

We had one more stop for the night. Instead of our usual celebration alone, Wookie and I would celebrate with friends. We continued our southerly trek through New Jersey to meet friends Rich and Debbie.

I'd never been to Atlantic City, though I'd flown over it many times. Debbie and Rich had a fabulous night planned for us. We started with a buffet at one of the casinos. Wookie and I often have very different food preferences and this place had us both very happy.

Rich has his own buffet rules. I think he summed it up as "all protein, no salad, no veggies." But I couldn't resist laying some gorgeous baby carrots (real ones with a little bit of the tops still on) and a few fingerling potatoes next to the lovely lobster I chose for my first course. When I met Wookie back at the table, he had chosen some beef medallions, that were tender enough to cut with butter knife.

Sitting across from Debbie and Rich, we had a great time. Our troubles forgotten for the night. I worked my way through two lobsters and a small bowl of duck soup (which I highly recommend!) before moving to the amazing deserts. There was chocolate mousse served in the delicate petals of a chocolate tulip—so thin that the heat of my hand holding the plate started the chocolate melting. But I really loved the tiny chocolate cup-cake with icing that I think was infused with rose essence.

I had such a good time, I didn't even stop to take pictures!

As a food coma descended across the table, we made our move for the boardwalk. Wookie and I haven't been on many double dates. I loved walking down the boardwalk, two couples, chatting and people watching.

Rich promised us good people watching and AC certainly delivers! The four of us were fairly well bundled up. I wore several layers against the winter chill, but everywhere were girls in dresses that covered about as much as my bathing suit—no coats, not even a scarf. It might have been an old fogy moment for me, but I can't remember being so impervious to cold when I was young. Though someone in our group theorized that the mass quantities of alcohol in their blood might be acting as anti-freeze.

Midnight came—celebrated prematurely by some people around us and a little late by others. At Wookie's request, we met the new year outside, looking this time out toward the dark waters of the Atlantic. We compared cell phones with Rich and Debbie. When both phones agreed it was midnight, we wished each other a happy new year!

I kissed my Wookie and as he wrapped his arms around me, I greeted the new year with hope.

This morning I learned of an African proverb, "If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."

Wookie and I will go far, accompanied by good friends.

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope your 2013 is full of good friends, good health, joy, prosperity, and love.

This is a test...

Just a quick test post as I do some year-end clean up.

But while I'm at it, here's a little piece of inspiration. I drive past this regularly and it makes me smile every time.

Anatomy of a Scam Email

I get a few of these a year. 

Scam emails are an inevitable hazard if you do business on the Internet. 

They tend to be more subtle than your typical personal scam letters, which usually appeal to greed. "Hi, can you help me get money I'm not supposed to have. I'll give you a huge cut." OR "There's a pile of money here that you know really doesn't belong to you. But if you give me your banking information (and everything else I need to steal your identity) I'll make you rich!"

Scam letters aimed at your business tend to look like more legitimate queries. But if you look at them carefully, you can see the telltale signs that they mean trouble. 

There are a lot of hints to indicate that you're dealing with a scam email. Among them, vague references to your services and location without showing that they have ever read your website. Often the recipient's name or the name of his/her business is not even used.

Typically these scams include an offer to send you a check in excess for your fee, which you're supposed to either distribute among other vendors or refund the difference.  The scammers' goal is for you to deposit the check so they can somehow cancel it and suck the funds from your account.

This isn't just for wedding professionals. Anyone with a business could be targeted. Here's an email I received recently. Hopefully this will help you avoid a scam.

Ever Green

In case you've been wondering, our tree is still up.

As I mentioned last year, it's been up since 2009. I am sure this seems ridiculous to most people, but it's become a bit of a totem for me.

The tree has stood through job loss, an earthquake (albeit a tiny one) and two massive storms, the loss of two of our beloved cats and bills, bills, bills.

As the pressures of adulthood (which at 42 years old I have decided I will never get used to) continue to mount, the tree stands in defiance of it all.

Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind is a much younger me, probably in footsie pajamas, wishing the tree could stay up all year even as pine needles littered the carpet like prickly confetti.

This tree stands for that part of me that thought, "some day, when I grow up, I'll keep the tree up for as long as I want."

Of course, 10 year old me wanted more from life than just to have a the tree up all year. So if anyone has a spare light saber lying around, you know where to send it.

Slow Cooker Lasagna

I haven't had the combination of time and energy to cook in ages. I just started a VERY short contract job and also teaching this year's Celebrant class. So today was my last chance, for a while to experiment in the kitchen.

I had seen some recipes online for lasagna cooked in a slow cooker. The proposed advantages being fewer pots needed and a long, slow, hands-off cooking time. I figured I'd give it a shot.

It is by no means my grandmother's lasagna. I cut a lot of corners, used sauce from a jar, didn't have some of the ingredients (tomato paste, oregano) I would have like to include. But, it is tasty.

What stands out the most is the consistency of the noodles. Because they go into the slow cooker dry, rather than pre-boiled, the consistency is different. The noodles melt into the other ingredients more. It's not unpleasant, but it's not my favorite part of the dish either.

I am thinking of boiling the noodles next time and cutting the time in the slow cooker. That way I can skip using the oven, but still get the regular consistency of the pasta.

I'd almost consider skipping the noodles altogether, but there is something way to decadent about a big pot of melted cheese and meat sauce...

UPDATE:

Rosie approves.

My Heroes of Hurricane Sandy

I am using my blog this week to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who worked so hard to keep people safe during Hurricane Sandy and those who are working tirelessly to put our little corner of the world back in order.

Dearest to my heart are the members of the BTUSAR Squad 86, of which my husband is the training officer and of which I have recently become a member. While I was holding down the fort at home, the men and women of the Squad were out in the winds and rising flood waters helping people escape to safety. 

I'll let the press release bellow tell the rest. I am just so proud of all of them.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Contact:

Richard Zeller, Assistant Chief

Berkeley Township Underwater Search and Rescue (BTUSAR) Squad 86

RPZ322@aol.com

609-661-8207

www.BTUSAR.com

Local Volunteer Dive Squad Saves over 100 People from Hurricane Sandy

Volunteer Members of BTUSAR Risked their Lives While Their Own Homes Were Being Damaged

BERKELEY TOWNSHIP, NJ

NOVEMBER 3, 2012

The first call came in about 9AM Monday morning (October 29, 2012) as winds from the leading edge of the storm system began pushing tidal waters inland, past the barrier islands and toward Berkeley Township and other Jersey Shore communities.

For the next 52 hours, as Hurricane Sandy, approached, made landfall, and passed overhead, bringing with it record tides and floodwaters that reached up to two miles inland, the members of the all volunteer Berkeley Township Under Water Search and Rescue (BTUSAR) Squad 86 worked tirelessly to rescue local residents.

Where local police and fire vehicles were unable to traverse the deepening waters and strong tidal surge, BTUSAR members came with boats and, wearing wetsuits, even waded through the chest-deep waters. They guided, carried, and ferried local residents from their flooding homes.

"We had four teams working on rotation plus our command station." Says Richard Zeller, BTUSAR Assistant Chief. "At last count, we rescued over hundred residents."

And that's not all. BTUSAR's Training Officer, Paul Skehan notes, that BTUSAR's squad house also ended up serving as a shelter for those rescued from the storm. Says Skehan, "Our team returned from a run to find a police lieutenant at the squad house with his laptop. A tree had fallen on the generators of the dispatch station and shelters were full. From that point on, the victims stayed with us until they could be bused to safety. At one point I came back from a call to find every available space filled with people sleeping or getting warm."

A tree damaged by Hurricane Sandy's winds lies beside the BTUSAR Squad house that sheltered victims of Hurricane Sandy's floodwaters Monday night.

It's worth mentioning that Sunday night, when BTUSAR went on call gathering at the Squad House to prepare vehicles and equipment they did not expect to be activated until after Hurricane Sandy had passed. Public announcements by Governor Christie as well as communications from local officials had been that first responders would not be called to rescue those who had ignored the mandatory evacuation orders, until the storm had passed.

But in the hours after that first call Monday morning, the BTUSAR team worked tirelessly and selflessly to rescue those in Sandy's path—even as their own homes were threatened.

Says Zeller, "During this storm I've seen the best humanity has to offer and some of the worst. I want to commend our officers and crew for putting themselves on the line and making the sacrifices they did to make sure that others were safe.

When asked about finding that his own home had been demolished by a falling tree Monday night when he was on duty, Zeller responded, "I don't care. My kids, family , and friends are all safe. We helped hundreds of families and that is what matters."

BTUSAR is an all volunteer organization. They meet twice a week for training sessions covering everything from first aid to under water search and recovery. For the last two years, they have also served as the safety team at speedboat races for the Jersey Outlaws racing association.

In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, BTUSAR, while standing down, is still serving the community. Yesterday, Zeller and other members of the squad raised a boat that had sunk in a lagoon with 150 gallons of fuel on board. The six-hour operation not only saved the boat, but also prevented the environmental damage that would have resulted from spilled fuel. Today, and in the days to come, BTUSAR members are making themselves available for body recovery efforts.

BTUSAR Squad 86 has been serving the residents of Berkeley Township and surrounding areas since 1979. They are an all volunteer unit of trained underwater rescue and recovery divers with EMTs and commercial divers on staff. Their mission is any and all marine rescue emergency response above or below the water line and to respond to mutual aid requests in any other emergency within the realm of the unit's training.

For more information about BTUSAR contact Assistant Chief Richard Zeller at RPZ322@aol.com or by phone at 609-661-8207.

A Better Meme

I keep seeing these memes going around saying "when someone asks how you you're doing, don't dwell on your troubles, focus on the positive."

While I do understand the idea of focusing on the positive--and that it can help a person get through rough times, I also know how difficult it can be to ask for help when you need it.

I know there were plenty of times in the past when I answered, "how are you" with "I'm fine" but I should have said "things are bad and I need help."

There are a lot of people who suffer from Depression or other problems (financial for example) who answer "I'm fine" because they don't want to trouble others with their problems.

I've moved past that. I prefer to think that when someone asks how you're doing, it's because they care to know. I one doesn't care, there are other questions to ask to make casual conversation. How's the weather? Read any good books lately? Can you pass the salt?

These are hard times for a lot of people--my little family included—but I've made no secret of that. Wookie and I are lucky in that we have some great friends around us—and family too. I would wish the same for everyone.

Wouldn't it be better to encourage people to ask for help if they need it?

A better meme would be, "If you ask how someone is doing—listen for the answer." Or "When a friend asks how you're doing, remember a true friend wants to know."

I don't care if you wrap the message in pictures of kittens and bunnies or little old ladies, or what have you. The package doesn't matter. What matters is squashing the idea that people should suffer in silence, spouting rainbows and unicorns so as not to bring others down.

I'd like to think we're better than that, or that we should aim to be.

New in my Zazzle shop...

Ask me mug by Lifeat30Feet

See this and more at http://www.zazzle.com/lifeat30feet*

Bouncing Back

It's been a very rough few weeks here. It began with our Biggles passing away. We had been hoping for more time with him and his presence is so sorely missed. I still have not been able to write about it, though I will eventually post a tribute to him, like I did for Frankie.

A week to the day later, we found out that someone had cloned one of our bank cards and drained one of our checking accounts. And then, because we weren't having enough fun, a week and a few days after that, I lost my job.

Losing my job came as a complete shock. I was in the middle of several ongoing projects. Everyone was happy with my work—and said so. To the best of my knowledge, my contract was going to be renewed and paperwork was underway.

It was the Tuesday following Labor Day. I was in up to my ears and having a very productive day when the phone rang. It was the consulting agency that signed my checks and my rep with the agency said, "we've just received a very strange email from the client. Today is your last day."

I'm in my forties. I've had my fair share of jobs. I've never lost a job like that. No warning. No explanation. It was three-thirty in the afternoon and in less than two hours, I was going to be unemployed.

To say I was in shock doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling. I had no idea what we were going to do. I didn't even have a final week's worth of pay to look forward to, just my earnings for that Tuesday, minus the usual taxes and the cost of health insurance for two. (It didn't amount to much.)

It angered me to be dismissed with so little care—to know that my work could be deemed unnecessary and unwanted by someone I'd never met. I'm not surprised though. It's the way companies operate these days the people who do the work don't matter. (Job-providers my ass!)

Wookie and I thought this job was a new beginning for us. We were hoping to finally get climbing out of the morass of debt that my little family has been trapped in. It's amazing how quickly that hope was extinguished.

After the initial shock started to wear off I had another battle to fight. I could feel Depression looming. Suddenly, for the first time in many years, I was hitting the old lows that dominated my twenties. It wasn't just the emotional lows—being sad is a perfectly justifiable reaction to getting fired. Suddenly, I was saddled with the physical side of Depression. The aches and heaviness I had not felt in years.

I fought Depression in college and throughout my twenties. I know Depression lies. But it this time I had something tangible pushing me into the darkness. It did not help that when I applied for unemployment, I had to watch a video about resources "to help me find a job and and keep it." Insult added to injury because I had done nothing to earn my dismissal.

The ache of depression pushed my shoulders down and made my joints hurt. I steeled myself for battle. There was too much to do and I could not afford to be in that pit again. I had obligations to meet. While the day-job was over, I still had other work to do and more than that, I had Wookie.

In my darkest moments, Wookie was there. He brought me roses and told me how much he loves me and needs me. Wookie reminded me of the difference I make—Wookie, who has also been struggling to find work, but still gives back. He trains a search and rescue squad to help others in times of crisis and has never hesitated to help someone else in need. If giving back could pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads, we'd be set.—Wookie reminded me of the lives I touch as a Celebrant and teacher. Loss of the day-job had not changed that.

The Social Media course I teach my fellow Celebrants every summer was due to start that Thursday night. I had to pull myself together. I also had several weddings coming up that needed to be revised, written or officiated. My other professional life was still intact and this work—while it usually has to take the back-burner to the higher-pay and health insurance of the day job—was important.

The first session of my social media class was just one hour, but I felt immeasurably better afterwards. The heaviness and pains of Depression had faded. Was I still sad? Sure. Was I still afraid of what the future would bring? Absolutely! But I was reminded that I still had work with a purpose.

People tie so much of their identities to work. Take that away and you can hurt someone on more than a financial level. I think there are two kinds of work. The kind you do for the paycheck and the kind you do to make a contribution. If you're lucky, you get to do both at once. Sadly, I think many people don't ever look past the paycheck. Maybe they don't think they can.

My day job as a technical writer was a paycheck job. I enjoyed the people I worked with. I enjoyed the challenge and always worked to exceed expectations. I even enjoyed the products I was working on. But at the end of the day, I don't believe lives were touched or improved by what I worked on for 40-hours a week. When I walked away at the end of the day, I had money but little else. The same can be said for most of the 9-5 jobs I've had.

I believe my work as a Life-Cycle Celebrant® makes the world a better place. It glorifies Love. It honors the individuals, couples, and families I serve. I tell their stories, because they are important enough to be heard. I respect and honor their wishes and help I them celebrate in ways that are unique, because each person's experience of life is unique.

When I walk away after a ceremony, I feel satisfied. I know I've made a difference. This may sound like just so much fluff, but I've been the client and I know how it touched my life to be heard and have my wishes honored. I've also had the honor of hearing from clients and their friends and family about what their ceremonies meant to them.

When I teach my fellow Celebrants, I know more lives will be touched by what they carry forward. It all ripples out like rings from a stone tossed in the water.

So here I am looking for a new day job and I know that there may come another day when an employer decides that my contribution is unimportant and lets me go.  Luckily for me, I know that my work as a Celebrant is important and always will be.

I'm never going to get rich as a Celebrant, though my hope remains to eventually make a full-time career of it. But for now, as some parts of our world come crashing in on us, I know that no matter where Wookie and I end up, we will always have each other and I will always have Celebrancy as away to contribute to the world. What I get back from Wookie and Celebrancy is a wealth that can't be measured.

Calling All Biggles Fans

My Cat Biggles needs surgery for a mass on his large intestine. After all we went through with Frankie, I admit to being a bit of a wreck. We've been working with the vet, treating a mysterious array of symptoms. Now we know where the mass is.

The vet was supposed to remove it today, but when she got in there she realized it was a bigger job and required a surgeon.

Please feel free to spread your good wishes and check in for updates for Biggles on his Facebook Page or on Twitter @BigglesSays.

Until this crisis is over all proceeds from my Zazzle Shop will go to paying for Biggles' medical expenses.

Biggles T Shirt by Lifeat30Feet
View more Biggles T-Shirts

I have a variety of items. Please consider getting something for yourself or as a gift. Most items can be customized and if you don't see one of my photos on something you're looking for, let me know.

create & buy custom products at Zazzle

Pon Farr: Why I Love Being Married to a Geek

Conversation with my husband last night while watching Star Trek (2009)...

Me: So by changing the timeline, those Romulans have unleashed a new, more emotional, and more vengeful Spock on the universe.

Paul: Should make Pon Farr interesting.

A Single Shade of Grey: Sometimes a Thank You Means No Thank You

A few months ago I found myself in an unexpected position. I had to say no thank you without actually saying it.


After a very long dry spell I finally had a job interview. I prepared for days—researching the company, scraping together money to print new business cards and gathering appropriate writing samples. I had not been on a job interview in years and so I read all I could on questions to ask and answers to have. I prepared to present myself as exactly what they needed me to be.

Things were going very well. On paper, I was a great match for the position. My writing samples were a near perfect match for their own documentation. The people were nice and friendly. It wasn't going to be interesting work, but it was work I am good at and the company appeared to value the contributions of its writing staff.

I was getting ready to ramp up the charm for the final push. I had researched the company, I had my mental checklist of questions to ask about the position, and answers to questions like "where do you see yourself in five years?" It wasn't my ideal job, they were not big on telecommuting, but my little family needed the paycheck and I could make this work.

I had one more person to meet with and I was asked if I wanted a look around to see the workspace. I am so glad I said yes because that is when they lost me.

It was as if the office had been designed around my own personal list of depression triggers. High-walled grey cubes, the color of a rainy day in winter, sat in a field of matching grey carpet in a windowless area. The few people that were there were working in complete silence and, as I was taken through the office, I didn't see one personal item in any of the workspaces. It was sterile, uninspiring, and stifling.

I had already met with two people and those potential co-workers I had spoken with had been enthusiastic about the company but had described a typical work day as "heads down" and the office itself was in the middle of nowhere. So I could see there would be little in the way of conversation during the day and nowhere to escape to for lunch. I imagined what it would be like to work there in the winter, to go from the grey of early morning to 8 or 9 hours of silent grey on grey to the gloom of a commute that would have me home well after dark. It was not a good picture.

Between the dull work, the commute cutting into my time with Wookie and my Celebrant work (the two things that keep me sane and centered), and the incredibly dreary work environment, I realized that the worst case scenario would be if they offered me the job.

I'm sure this may sound ridiculous to a lot of people. I know some would say I should have sucked it up—that work is work—but having a job wasn't going to do me and Wookie any good if it pushed into the deep grey funk of Depression. I've been there and done that—I have no desire to go back if I can help it.

So I became a bit of a cold fish for the rest of the interview. I am sure the lead interviewer noted a drop in my enthusiasm even if she didn't know why. I wasn't in a position to refuse a job if it was offered to me, but I knew this job would not be good for me.

We entered the "Do you have any questions?" phase of the interview. I simply responded (repeatedly) that they had given me a lot to think about.

When I talked with Wookie after the interview, he was supportive. We discussed the possible ramifications on my unemployment should I actually be offered the position and then turn it down. We agreed that, while we needed the money, it would do us little good if my mental health wound up in the toilet as a result.

That was when the world's most non-committal thank you letter was born.

 Dear [People I Interviewed With]: 

Thank you for taking the time to meet with me yesterday about the [writer] position at Company X. I appreciate the opportunity to learn more about Company X and its [writing] department and to see your workspace. 

I was impressed with what I learned about the company and how it operates. I was also pleased to see that its [writing] staff is a valued part of the organization. It’s nice to see how much you all enjoy working there. 

I am pleased to know that my past experience and writing samples are similar to what you already have in place. If you have any more questions about my experience or skills, please let me know. 

Sincerely, 

Me 

I never heard back from them.

While there was never a guarantee I'd get that job anyway, I'm glad I acted against getting it. A short while later I was hired for a better job, one where the work is interesting and I can telecommute.

It's the next best thing to being able to work solely for myself. I'm more productive on my own and I don't bother anyone with my need to read things aloud to work out just the right wording. My home office is full of the things that inspire me. My commute is a walk down the hall. When I'm done with the day job, I can take care of Celebrant business without dealing with an hour plus of traffic first and when I need a bit of conversation, there's always a Wookie or a cat to talk to.

My Latest Creation:Byzantine & Beads Bracelet

I made this as a birthday gift for my sister. Glad to see my new chain maille skills are coming in handy.