The way things are now, everyone seems to be worried about the possibility of being laid off or having their hours cut back. Fortunately, I’m still employed, but the worry that I won’t be, is just as real. I work in the retail field and with so many businesses going under or having to let workers go just to keep their doors open, any job security I might’ve had, has evaporated.

Because my job is as tenuous as the next persons, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I might do if I found myself out of work tomorrow. After the initial OMG, what am I going to do without a steady paycheck, I’d slap my hysterical face and tell myself to get a grip. I’d somehow survive on a weak unemployment check and think about what to do. Maybe the downtime would be the perfect opportunity to figure out what it is that truly motivates me.

I’ve always had a love of books and writing. Reading has been my sanctuary and writing my catharsis. I find it easy to lose myself in a book and to express myself through writing. The only way I could support my family with my writing would be to create a bestselling novel. The problem with this though is, I lack the willpower needed to sit at the computer five or six hours a day and pound out a page-turner. I'm easily distracted and even one tiny glimpse of the sun would be my undoing. The last place I want to be on a warm, sunny day is inside, bound to a computer keyboard. If by some odd chance, I actually did complete a novel, I’d never have the confidence to go out and promote it. I can’t even wrap my head around the idea of standing in front of a roomful of people and then yakking on and on about myself and my book. I can see myself standing up there, like a deer caught in the headlights, and blubbering, “Uh…um…I wrote this book. It’s about (whatever it might be about) and I hope you’ll buy it. Have a nice day.” Then rushing out of the room to hyperventilate into a brown paper bag. Yeh, that’ll increase sales.

Writing for a living is out, but books are not. Books don’t talk and you never have to toot your own horn to get someone to buy one. A good book sells itself. That’s why I think if I had to make a fresh start doing something else, I’d lean on my love of books and open my own bookstore. Buying and selling comes natural to me. I did for ten years in my own store and continue to do it as an associate for a big company. Why not take a potentially bad situation, like getting laid off, and turn it into a positive thing? Why not expend my energies on something that would make me look forward to going to work each day?

Months ago, I began an online bookstore and although I enjoy it, it’s more a hobby that an actual income. I’ve never had the time to pursue making it into something more substantial. A layoff would force me to reconsider how to make it a success and hopefully turn a hobby into a bonafide business with an actual income.

Instead of unemployment being considered a bad thing, with the right attitude, it could be considered a positive thing. A way to make a fresh start. The push needed to get out of a mind-numbing job and move onto something that’s more challenging.

Then if my boss did hand me a pink slip, I hope I’d be able to look him in the eye, smile wide and say, “thank you.”

“My buddy bet me fifty dollars I could never get you to let me buy you a drink. How about we enjoy ourselves on his dollar?”

“You’re hot, can I put out your fire?”

“I don’t usually do this, I’m normally pretty shy, but after seeing you I’ve decided to come out of my shell.”

Personally, I’ve never been handed any of those lines, but I haven’t gone to many bars in the last fifteen years. Most husbands, mine included, tend to frown on their wives cruising the beer joints until the wee hours of the morning. Even when I was young enough for those lines to be used on me, I can’t recall that they ever were. Me and my posse of girlfriends were pretty obnoxious. If a man did want to come over to us, he probably thought better of it once we started knocking over tables on our way to the ladies room or the dance floor. Somehow sloppy drunks never get hit on, except of course by other sloppy drunks. And then everyone’s usually so drunk nobody knows what the other person said anyway, good line or bad.

Bar cruising is for twenty-something’s. It’s their rite of passage. It’s how they test their attraction levels. How they weed out the hopefuls from the one-liners. My twenties were spent changing diapers, fixing meals, doing laundry and playing patty-cake. Not that I’d change it (at least I had the energy to keep on top of it all) but I always felt left behind when my friends were out being the life of the party while my excitement revolved around my daughter finally making it to the potty on time.

Now, two decades later, bars seem to be a thing of the past. These days, it seems like online dating is the way to meet people. I’ve talked to quite a few people who’ve met or reconnected with their current partners through online dating services and they seem happy.

But, I’ve also been told it’s just the newest meat market. Not so different from cruising the bars. It’s just easier to find someone online. There are literally hundreds of places to find that “special someone”. Put in your picture and dress up your profile and all you have to do is wait for the blinking message that says you’ve been noticed. It also seems less threatening to chat with someone through a computer line. The risks seem minimal and if after a few conversations, your potential computer companion seems less than ideal, that’s what the delete button is for. Seems easier and less personal than having a face to face with someone for a few hours and then suddenly decide you need to come up with an excuse to vamoose.

Personally, if I was out and about in today’s dating scene, I’d be absolutely terrified. To chat with a person online is one thing, but eventually a person to person date with that complete stranger is going to have to happen. On the other hand though, is that really any different than meeting a complete stranger in a bar? If I ever did find myself sitting on a hard wooden stool with my arms leaning on a sticky bar counter, in a darkened roomful of strangers, and a man came up to me, spouting off lines. I hope he’d have the good sense to shoot me out a good one like, “hi, I’m Bob. How are you doing this evening?”

Now that’s the kind of line that just might work on a woman. Nothing fancy or witty. Just an honest question. And if it’s said with genuine sincerity and a real smile (not some creepy leech-like thing), he might end up having a real conversation with a real woman.

But, what do I know? I’m just an old married woman who likes to keep things simple.

I saw this one word, Simplify, on a bumper sticker and thought…AHA! That’s the word. This is the one little word that we all need to live by. There’s nothing more self-explanatory and simple than the word, Simplify.

Our lives are cluttered. Filled with too much stuff. So much so, that we’re wading into it and then drowning. Our homes are cluttered. The busy-ness of the daily routine is cluttered. And our minds are cluttered with the impossible amount of tasks that need to be done in a day.

It’s Spring, time to de-clutter, and the first step is to put the mind in a state of cleanliness. My favorite remedy for this is to do some actual cleaning…starting with the bathroom. Nothing clears the mind like a dose of strong bleach and a toilet bowl with crud build-up.

We spend a good portion of our lives sitting on that porcelain bowl, it should be gleaming, with actual sparkles reflecting off the light. What’s more disgusting than a toilet that hasn’t had a proper cleaning in awhile? This is where we place our most privates of privates; those privates deserve a crud-free environment.

So simplify. A clean toilet isn’t just a clean toilet, it’s a state of mind. Especially when that mind is filled with overpowering fumes from the bleach cleaner. When that happens there is simply no room for any other thoughts to wander around inside your head. The mind is focused only on the job at hand…to hurry up and clean. Once done, the hand can be pulled from the toilet and the head can be thrown out the window for some fresh air. Thus dispelling the toxic fumes of bleach and filling the lungs with fresh Spring air. Thereby energizing the body and simplifying the mind.

No? How about this then? Simplify your bedroom. Our rooms, especially our resting place, is so cluttered with stuff that when we walk into it we can barely sleep, much less feel restful. It’s filled with things that make our eyes dart here, there and everywhere. Images that keep our minds moving and unable to concentrate on the one thing the room is supposed to do, relax us.

Simplify by getting rid of the stuff. Haul the treadmill to the basement. It’s just a reminder of one other thing that needs to be done before we can relax. By banishing it to the basement, the reminder is out of sight, out of mind. Basements are traditionally torture chambers anyway (having formerly been known as dungeons). So that’s where any and all exercise equipment should be.

Your bedroom should provide tranquility after a long, unproductive day at work. It’s your sanctuary. The place where expectations are low and ambition and drive are naughty words. Your freedom place. And a freedom place should be free of all negative vibes.

Computers should also be banned from the bedroom. They remind us that we have emails to answer, unopened messages that may or may not be important. Distant family members to respond to. Online strangers, who wanna be Facebook buddies, that need deleting. Urgent messages from bill collectors who MUST HAVE payment now!

No television either. I know many people will argue the point of a television in the bedroom, claiming it helps them to fall asleep…which may or may not be true. I can attest to a good golf announcer lulling me to sleep, but television is a distraction. It takes us away from the intent of the bedroom, which is to rest and sleep (and you thought there were "other" things to do in the bedroom, nope, it's all about the sleep). But, if a really good program is on, for example: Desperate Housewives, Fringe, Life On Mars or CSI, then staying awake to watch them, is a must. Which in turn will move us into the cycle of yet another unproductive workday.

If you don’t believe my theories are justifiable reasons to simplify your life, then check out the scientific facts. I’m sure there are some..somewhere...that'll back me up.

OkeyDokey Discount

My nose is crooked. Most people don't even seem notice it, at least not right away anyway. It's my glasses that make it obvious. Once perched on my nose, the crookedness becomes apparent. Most glasses sit along the bridge of the nose in an even, horizontal line, mine though, tilt diagonally. How did I wind up with a bent out of shape snoz? I blame Sunday afternoon roller-skating.

Every small town has a gathering place for kids and teens. If you lived in my area during the seventies, The Spotlight Pavilion was one of those places. It was where your friends went, where you made new friends...and new enemies (teen gathering places are notorious for testosterone -fueled fighting and boyfriend-stealing catfights). I was fourteen when mom finally allowed me to go skating with my brother for an afternoon, but the stipulation was I had to keep an eye on my younger sister. I agreed, even though Tina was more than capable of taking care of herself and probably would've been pissed if she knew Mom thought she needed someone "to keep an eye on her".

I loved it there. All my friends hung out there and the strange new kids from the surrounding schools made the place more exciting (and of course the boys more interesting). The smell...a combination of leather, popcorn and teen energy, along with the sound of rubber wheels rolling over the wooden floor and Dr. Hook's - She Was Only Sixteen, got me all pumped up for an afternoon of fun.

Because I was nervous, that first time, I didn't head right out onto the skate-floor, I kind of hung back and watched the other skaters buzz by me in a blur. I was nervous about getting on the floor with all the other kids. I'd skated up and down our tarred road a zillion times, so it's not like I didn't know how to skate, but this was different. These kids actually knew tricks, they were even dancing in their skates; doing turns and gliding backwards. I wanted to be as good as them, but was intimidated and couldn't make myself get out on the floor. It was my brother, Robert who pushed me onto the floor...literally.

"What are you standing around for? You know how to skate, get moving. Mom'll be pissed off if she finds out she paid to get you in and you just stood around watching everyone else."

And off he went, rolling around like some kind of professional. I hated him and felt proud of him at the same time.

I finally inched onto the floor, pushing one foot in front of the other, getting a feel for things. The floor was slicker than the road, but it also made for easier skating. Because I hadn't fallen down, my confidence grew, but I still hugged the walls and paused at each of the corner guardrails to get my bearings. When I realized I wasn't going to wipe out I picked up speed. After three times around, I found myself racing to keep up with my brother and sister. We only stopped when it was a couple's skate. While gulping down a sickeningly sweet, juice-flavored drink, I made the decision to try and skate backwards. I asked Robert to show me how.

It was that attempt that broke my nose. After showing me the beginner's stance and how to push myself along - toes together, then heels together, then toes again, Robert left me to my own devices. I was so focused on watching my feet, that I wasn't watching what was going on around me, and neither were the other skaters. A, have-to-go-as fast as he could speed skater, with his head tucked into his chest, plowed into me from behind. The force with which he hit me sent me flying...face first...into the floorboards with his hundred and fifty pounds landing on top of me, pushing my nose further into the floor.

Blood was everywhere. I heard whistles blowing, saw the rink owner waving his arms for people to stop or go around me. I felt my brother and sister pick me up and take me to the girl's bathroom. They made me put my head back and went through an entire roll of toilet paper before our mother got there.

At the hospital, my nose was plugged with wads of cloth and I was told to keep it plugged for the rest of the evening. The bleeding eventually stopped, but the bend in my nose was permanent.

I don't usually spend a lot of time thinking about my broken nose or the accident either...that is until last year. The year of the glasses; which brings attention directly to my nose. Maybe a nose job'll fix it, but hey, the crookedness is a part of who I am now so why waste money?

***
This is the link for my new online bookstore at ebay, hope you'll stop by for a visit!


OkeyDokey Discount

Feb. 28 marked the day that told me I’m only four years away from fifty. When I was a teen, I thought forty-six was ancient…almost dead in fact. I thought I would never be that old, but here I am and for some reason I don’t feel ancient at all. In fact, I feel pretty darn good. Yeh, there are some days my back hurts from too much of…whatever, and my bunion throbs when I’ve been on my feet too long (which is something I can’t believe either, I have a bunion). Old people have bunions and bad backs, yet here I am…with both.

Yet, for all my complaints, there’s always still someone to say, “forty-six…bah. What I wouldn’t give to be forty-six again.” Of course this usually comes from someone creeping up on seventy, who is adamant that anyone under fifty-five is still wet behind the ears.

It’s weird, but as each year older comes around, I don’t find myself dreading it like I thought I would when I was a kid. Now, I look forward to it. I’m almost on my own, finally. After two kids and having the world revolve around them, I can now loosen some of the rope that ties me to them. My daughter moved out three years ago and is building her own life with her new husband and doesn’t need me to tell her how to run her life, she can do it quite nicely on her own.

My son, although he’s only nine, needs me less and less as he gets older. He has his own mind and never fails to express it. He’s become extremely independent, a trend which will only get more prevalent as he gets older. Soon he’ll only need me to drive him around until he gets his own license. I know, that’s still quite a few years away…but as I get older, the years seem to fly by and the future doesn’t seem as distant. In fact, I find it hard to believe he’ll be ten in just a few short months, seems like he was born, just yesterday.

What am I going to do with all this eventual free time? Just what I want to. I recently completed a belly-dancing class and it put the wheels in motion and made me realize there are a million things I’d like to try, but haven’t, due to family responsibilities. Now is as good a time as any to do them.

I need to make a list. Twenty things I’ve always wanted to do. Then go ahead and do them. Heading up my list is to travel. I’ll be lenient on this one. My travels don’t have to take me hundreds or thousands of miles away (although this won’t be ruled out) it can be a day trip only as far as Portland, Maine (I live in Maine and am only 40 minutes away from that city). I could wander around the Old Port (seaside tourist trap), weaving in and out of shops and galleries, then a lunch of some new food I’ve never tried. And to finish up the day, maybe a train ride or paddling a kayak around the harbor. To me, this is what traveling is about, seeing and doing things I’ve never done before.

Number two: finish that novel that's been buzzing around inside my head for years (the one that I've posted the first few chapters to, here...Collision Course).

Number three: move to someplace warm. I don't want to spend anymore winters shivering under my electric blanket.

That only leaves seventeen more on my Birthday To-Do List, I'm pretty sure I can come up with something.

***

This is the link for my new online bookstore, hope you'll stop by for a visit. Thanks!
OkeyDokey Discount