Sunday, April 7, 2024

Springing Forward With New Fur-ever Friend Freddie

I have exciting news! Are you sitting? Good.

I haven't really paid much attention to this blog over the last month or so (reason to be explained later, if you haven't gleaned from title). 

In my last blog I mentioned that I have hit 25K visitors to my blog, which was amazing! So when I sat down to attempt to write this blog, I was shocked to see that I have now hit over 30K visitors! WTF? 

What makes it even more interesting is the fact that the lion's share of new readers are in Hong Kong. As you can see from the image below, over the last month, almost 5K views from Hong Kong! No idea how they unearthed it, and I don't know anyone there, but hey, thanks for reading! Or I should say, "xie.xie!"




Meet Freddie Mercury, master of mayhem

My other piece of news is that I've added a fur family member recently, a puppy named Freddie. He started off as Teddy but we decidedly pretty quickly, he was more of a Freddie. Also, I felt it was bad mojo to move away from my Musician naming convention.  

Think of him as my adorable new alarm clock that came without a snooze button.

I'm sure a few of you are questioning my sanity. I get it. There's certainly a chance this was some type of perimenopausal-induced madness. God knows there's a laundry list of not-so-great symptoms; questionable life decisions is probably somewhere on the list. 

I've certainly questioned the decision a few times myself, if I'm being honest. I told no one -including my own family - because I kept questioning my own logic, and psychologically needed a possible out. Was I sick of my footloose-and-fancy-freeness? Or thought perhaps I was getting too much quality sleep? No! I assure you the latter is not the case. Sleep is one of my love languages.

While it sounds insane, I wanted to get a new puppy because my existing dog, Bowie, needed a companion. After my older dog, Marley, died at the end of 2022, Bowie stopped playing with toys and became more withdrawn. Dogs enjoy being part of a pack. 


To be honest, I've historically have had two dogs at the same time. Although it sounds like it's twice the work; if you're doing anything with one, it's really not that much work doing it for two. Other than walks, that is. It's kind of a "what's-a-pound-to-an-elephant?" proposition.

I bought my first Tibetan Terrier, Dudley, back in 2005, when I still had my original dog, an older golden retriever named Bogart. Dudley brought excitement back into Bogart's life, who at 11yo was mainly interested in two things: food and sleep.  After adding the puppy, I swear he lived another four years, in part because of his new companion (and interesting new food smells that came along with him). 

Raising a puppy is not easy. I'm exhausted all the time. My shitty short-term memory is even shitier with my sleep-deprived brain fog. 


My house has become a dangerous gauntlet of chew toys, bones and baby gates. At any time throughout the day, I probably have puppy poop under my fingernails, and there's a faint smell of urine, the source of which I have not been able to clearly identify. Basically, puppy-induced chaos.

The first week I felt like I had a newborn again; sleepwalking through my day. Needed nighttime potty breaks and then he's up with the sun. While he thinks 6 am is a suitable time to rise and shine, I vehemently disagree due to the fact that sleep is one of my favorite things. 

Upside is I've learned I can sleep quite soundly wearing noise-canceling headphones. I wish they had those around when I had screaming newborns. Pavlov's theory proven: I put those headphones on, and my body instantly relaxes, melts into my sheets and my brain starts saying, "What puppy? You don't have a puppy...for the next hour." 

Sadly, I often awake to Bowie, wide awake, staring at me in disgust. Apparently he can hear him.

I wish I could say I enjoy being up hours earlier than I normally would be, reaping the benefit of that extra time. I was raised by a cheery morning person who constantly reminded me of all the amazing things you can accomplish by "getting up with the chickens." Well, I'm on week four of my newly imposed wakeup time, and I'm more than happy to debunk this myth. 

So far, the only upside is I can now watch CBS Sunday Morning in its entirety. Cute show; you should check it out. 😏 I've actually seen it before but it's usually just the last 5 minutes.

And, as I am writing this, I am fully aware it will take me 87 attempts to finish this blog, as Freddie's attention span is short, while his capacity for terror is massive.



What's he like? His breeder described him as "smart, curious and happy." Hmmm. She obviously didn't remember our initial conversation. This is my 5th dog, so I know personality outweighs good looks. I told her I care much less about color and markings, but really want a sweet, snuggly puppy. I didn't say lethargic, but if that were an option, I would have.

I also knew damn well I didn't want the smartest puppy. "He was the first one of the eight in his litter to learn how to climb the stairs," the breeder brags. Translation: a climber...fabulous.

I've owned dogs for 30 years and know full well that you don't want a smart dog; shoot for mid-range intelligence. You don't want dumb and untrainable, but smart dogs require owners that are one step ahead of them; not a cranky perimenopausal women with a passion for sleep! 



How do I describe him? Imagine if the Road Runner and the Tasmanian Devil somehow had a love child...that would be Freddie. He's a handful but he's also the cutest little pain in the ass ever. And, most importantly, Bowie seems to have taken a liking to him. At a reasonable hour, of course. And, he really is snuggly...right before he falls asleep. 

I hope this blog finds everyone healthy, happy and ready to embrace the warmth of spring. 

Until next time,

Barb and the boys 


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Monday, February 19, 2024

Making Peace With the Patriarchy

Greetings, everyone. Happy to report that we are all well on our way to Spring, and the days are getting longer. The end of the proverbial tunnel is near. Welcome news indeed. 

In blog-related news, I recently broke 25K views for this sillly blog, so shout out to my  readers! While I do this mainly to maintain what little of my sanity I have left, it does make my heart feel warm and fuzzy to know that someone actually reads this! Keep it up and I will do the same. 

Some of you might be aware that I work for a big software company. Annually we host a large event with approximately five thousand engineers, designers, entrepreneurs, students and makers. It's a super cool event and chock-filled with cool tech and gaga gadgetry. 

While I'm not a nerd by profession, I will admit to being quite "nerded out" by some of the incredible inventions and super cool new products we showcase that are created by our 7+ million users. Hard to not be impressed by some of these incredible breakthroughs, many of which are poised to radically change the world we live in, for the better. 

I'm accustomed to being wow'ed by cool tech. What I was absolutely not prepared for the emotion I experienced this year, which marked probably the 15th of these events I have attended over the last 20+ years. Not my first rodeo.

For the second year, I hosted a panel on increasing diversity in manufacturing and how that might help to build our workforce of the future. Diversity is something I've become more interested in as I am now responsible for the marketing of manufacturing solutions at my company. And, as I mentioned in my last blog, I've also become a radical liberal since moving to Chicago. 😉 

One of the panelists, Aneesa Muthana, is a Muslim woman who happens to be the CEO of two manufacturing companies in the Chicago area. I've spent two years stalking Aneesa on LinkedIn, thinking she would be a great panelist for this discussion.


Perhaps working in a company that's largely made up of men and knowing that the manufacturing environment is perhaps even more lopsided in terms of the number of men versus women, I was thrilled when she finally accepted my offer to come to the event.

Currently just less than a third (29%) of manufacturing roles are held by women with less than 20% in leadership positions, and even fewer in the C Suite with just 12% of those titles being held by woman, all of which made Aneesa such an anomaly. I tried to find an actual stat on "Muslim women" in executive roles in manufacturing, and Google gave up the ghost. 

Knowing her background, I assumed Aneesa would be a bona fide badass, take-no-prisons feminist. In my first conversation with Aneesa, I was fully locked and loaded to talk shit about the evils of the established patriarchy, and why as woman, we need to fight for equal representation, pay, etc. I wanted to trauma bond on the evils of the "crusty old men" who have historically dominated both the engineering and manufacturing worlds. I wanted to belt out a song from the Barbie movie.

Her response to this sentiment, however, surprised me. She told me that those white men, the ones often villainized, are the ones who taught her everything she knows about manufacturing, and will be the ones who will teach these skills to the next generation. 

What? No trauma bonding? Nope, that is not the way Aneesa rolls. She is indeed a badass. But, she's no victim. 

I wonder if she's even seen Barbie. 

Aneesa delivered one of our keynote addresses during the event. There were a few execs at my company that were concerned; what would she say? Did anyone see her slides? The discomfort was palpable. 

Not surprisingly, she killed it. She delivered a keynote address that was both inspiring and humble, and perhaps most importantly, inclusive of everyone, in particular white men, which made up the majority of her audience. For those interested in Aneesa's keynote, you can watch it below. She is beyond impressive.

After her speech, a lot of women, clearly inspired, wanted to connect with Aneesa. What was most shocking, however, was the number of men who approached me after to tell me how much her words meant to them. A total of five different men came up to me and told me they actually teared up during her talk and a few again while telling me, including a 6'5" burly, very intimidating security guy. 

Their reaction to her words was very emotional, whereas the women reacted by wanting to connect, network and perhaps find a mentor. They were inspired to action. I honestly found it fascinating.

I guess white men have been picked on for a long time, sadly often for very good reasons, but there are still good men with good hearts, and as Aneesa says, if we want them to be part of building a new future in manufacturing, we need to include them. 

Diversity is not about excluding any one group; it's about the magic that happens when diverse groups of people work together, bringing in their respective strengths, skill sets and life experiences. 

Finding real-world heroes

Another keynote speaker was Lonnie Johnson, a Black scientist and entrepreneur, with stints in the U.S. Airforce and NASA 's JPL Lab. He's perhaps best known for inventing the Super Soaker, which generated over $200 million in sales. He used that money to fund his next venture; a better battery to support the storage of alternative energy to help us build a more sustainable future.

After his speech, I ran into one of our users, Eric Timmons, who I collaborated with on this blog on stolen patents last year for Black History month. He and his wife created "Black Engineer - History & Stolen Patents," a video series featuring 28 Black engineers and inventors denied their proper due. One of those he included was Lonnie Johnson! I asked if he might be interested in meeting him, and he was thrilled.

One of my other panelists, Drew Crowe, is a two-time felon and young father, who turned his life around after seeing his young son mimicking his "street" behavior. He started out sweeping at a local factory and worked his way up, now dedicated to outreach with his New American Manufacturing Renaissance.

Lonnie is also one of Drew's heroes so I was also super excited to introduce him to the legend in person. He wrote a beautiful post on LinkedIn about meeting Lonnie in person, his lack of real role models growing up, and how today's youth idolizes athletes and rappers. 

"Lonnie's the kind of overlooked figure we gotta celebrate. Not just rappers and stars, but scientists enriching lives. Lonnie's inventions brought joy to millions. Now he pays in forward, getting youth into STEM. He represents the boundless potential in every child. That's a true hero. The type of person I aspire to be. Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

It was really touching to see both of these guys meet one of their heroes in person. 

So yeah, a few more tears...at a work conference. Weird. 

I think the bottom line is we are all stronger together. People with different backgrounds, regardless of their color or religion, all bring value to the table. It's what makes the U.S. amazing; the rich tapestry of people that makes up this country should be leveraged as a collective strength, not a reason for division.

I'm certainly a better person having met and interacted with all of these people this week. Heroes don't always wear capes; sometimes they wear head scarves and gold grills, and sometimes they are the crusty old white men paying it forward by teaching the next generation. 

If anyone is interested in the panel I moderated at this event, you can watch it here. 

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

Barb



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Sunday, January 7, 2024

Does Being an Urban Dweller Make You More Liberal?

Hi all and Happy 2024! Wow, those holidays sure went by quickly, as usual. Hope everyone enjoyed the time, even though I feel we all got screwed over by both holidays falling on Mondays. It seemed like we went from having a full two weeks of holiday time to one. I have submitted my official complaint; I'll keep you all posted on where that goes. 


Leaning lefter

Cities in the U.S. are typically dominated by people who are more liberal in terms of their politics. I've always leaned slightly left, although I wouldn't say I'm liberal in all of my beliefs. 

On the dating apps, I declare myself "moderate" as to not scare off the fiscally conservative guys. It serves the dual purpose of also enabling me to occasionally ensnare the MAGA idiots who have things like "no libtards" on their profiles. I like to match with them just so I can have the opportunity to tell them what morons they are. Just a side hobby really, but I digress. 

Back to the story: I think the main difference is that before moving to a big city, I had opinions on issues, such as homelessness, crime (gun control), immigration, the environment, etc., but that was before living in a city where you actually see these issues playing out on a daily basis.

I lived my entire life living in subdivisions in quiet, upper middleclass suburbs. I raised my own children in much the same environment. Crimes in these towns were DUIs, reckless driving and theft at Target. It was the perfect place to raise kids in a bubble of safety but does it reflect real life and the real world? Hardly. 

The homeless

Before moving here, I thought of the homeless population as dangerous, most likely mentally ill, and probably on drugs. Avoid eye contact, don't engage and keep moving has always been my go-to approach to the homeless. Probably sounds awful, but I never even thought of them as people, but more of a potential hazard to avoid.

I would never go the 7/11 a block down the street because there was a homeless man who often would sit on the curb in front and scream at people, which terrified me. One day, I was mentioning my avoidance of 7/11 to a neighbor friend of mine, Vesna. She looked at me oddly and said, "Oh, that's just David. He's not crazy, he has Tourette's Syndrome. I sometimes bring him PB&J sandwiches." What?

It turns out that David was a neighborhood favorite and had been around for a decade. Apparently, he was well known for walking through the neighborhood playing his trumpet. 

I live in a gayborhood, chockful of tree-hugging liberals. During the Polar Vortex a few years ago, the community lost its collective mind with worry over David's wellbeing (he refused to go to any shelter). It was a source of great debate for days on the neighborhood Facebook page. People en masse brought him blankets, food, and warm clothes. 

Sadly, he passed a few years ago, and neighbors organized and gathered on his favorite bench, dedicated in his honor, and had a ceremony to say goodbye. RIP David. 


Gwen, another very popular disadvantaged resident, passes out flyers for Streetwise on the main drag. Everyone here knows and loves Gwen. When someone stole her bike a few years ago, which was her only mode of transportation, the neighborhood rallied around her, collected money, and bought her a new one.  

Homeless people have names and stories. Once you have made eye contact, you are forced to see them as a human and not a problem. 

Yes, it's changed how I view homelessness. Does this mean I've made the official transition to a radical liberal?

Crime in the big city

Friends seriously questioned my sanity when I told them I was moving here. Yes, I knew Chicago, or ChiRaq as it's sometimes called, has had his fair share of crime. but never for a minute did it make me reconsider moving here. 

I have always loved the sounds and chaotic energy of cities. I don't live in fear. I am honestly more concerned with getting hit by a car as a pedestrian than anything else in terms of my own personal safety. 

When you are walking around in a city, your head is always on a swivel. You walk quickly and with purpose and stay aware of everything and everyone around you. But I would have to be naive or an idiot to not assume at some point I won't be affected by crime. 

New Year's Eve, right outside my condo, a man was shot in the head in a road rage incident. The shooter was an off-duty fireman. Neither Laura or I were home at the time, but I was alerted via my Citizen app. The silver lining: Alfie loved playing with the Crime Scene tape. 


A former boyfriend was shot at after refusing to surrender his car to a carjacker while sitting in his car in his ex-wife's driveway; four shots tore through his car, barely missing him. I've known plenty of others who have been directly impacted by crime. 

Despite fairly strict gun laws in Illinois and the fact that you can't legally purchase a firearm in the city of Chicago, there are lots of guns on the street. Last year Chicago PD removed over 10,000 illegal guns from the streets, and despite that we had just shy of 2,500 shootings in the city last year.  I won't even start on the school shootings that happen on a daily basis in this country.

So do I believe there should be stricter gun control in the U.S.? Yes. Does that mean I'm a leftist? 

One of the funnier Citizen alerts I've ever gotten. 

Immigration

In 1985 Chicago was designated as a sanctuary city. What that means is that as a city, we will not ask about immigration status, disclose that information to federal authorities, or deny city services based on immigration status.  What that actually looks like in reality is quite different than you might think.

Chicago currently has 1.7 million immigrants or roughly 18% of the total population. Without immigrants, the city doesn't work. Thanks to the governor of Texas, Twatwaffle Greg Abbott, an additional 20,000 immigrants have been bussed in since late 2022, with no advance notice, into the city, quickly overwhelming the shelter system. 

Many are now forced to live outside in tents in front of police stations. The city is scrambling to build giant tent cities to house them, but many of these people are from warm climates and get off these busses in flip flops with no coats. 

There's huge need for small clothing as most are coming from South or Central America and they are very small in stature. There's Guatemalan bakery next door, and I can attest, I'm 5'2" and would be considered model height there. Anyway, they urgently need warm coats, boots, gloves, etc. Laura and I both donated a lot of our winter clothes but it's a drop in a bucket. 

Regardless of what you think about our nation's immigration policies, when you cross paths with these people, you start seeing the issue from an entirely new perspective. These are not criminals but desperate people trying to find a better life. They are moms and children. They are cold, and it hasn't even gotten cold here yet.

Again, today I walked past a young mom and her two kids, one infant and another toddler. She has separated from the pack and is taking her chances alone on the street in my neighborhood for the past month. 

I gave her money again today but also pleaded with her to find a shelter, despite the fact that a language barrier prevents me from really communicating with her. I know someone is working through her church to help find her a spot somewhere. 

I get in bed at night this time of year and relish in its warmth. Then I think about that woman and her kids and I feel terrible.

Yes, I think we need to be better and more compassionate towards these immigrants. 

I guess I'm woke now.

So to bring this back full circle: Yes. I think I am more liberal now. I also think I am a kinder, more empathetic, open-minded and caring person, and much of that is due to being an urban dweller. Mystery solved.

New Year, new outlook

I hope the new year brings you all good health and happiness. Winter weather means more blogs. How's that for another silver lining? I promise they won't be as heavy as today's post was, but thanks for listening. 

Stay woke, folks.

Barb



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Thursday, November 2, 2023

Kicking Off the Bucket List and I Still Got It!

So we all have a bucket list, and I recently checked one off my list: seeing the Cinque Terre region of Italy. It's been on my list for the past 20 years after seeing pictures from the area in a Rick Steeves book. My goal was to see if before I was 50, but then life got in my way, as it often does. I spent my 40th birthday celebrating in Italy and intended to spend my 50th there doing the same. 


Who knew that next decade would bring some many changes to my life? Certainly not me, but instead of sipping wine in Italy and toasting to my half-century status, I found myself newly single, empty-nested, embarking on a new career, and packing up my possessions for a move to Chicago. Whatever extra money I might have had to spend on a vacation was put into a down payment on my new condo, which I will own in 30 short years. 

Let me start by saying that I had no idea that the origin of "bucket lists" was the concept that they include all the things you should do before you "kick the bucket." Obviously my stupidity coming into play here, but I never have thought of bucket list items as something to do before I die. This whole concept, however, makes me want to hurry up and assemble a more complete list. If anyone has ideas, please share! Time is marching forward and retirement is only seven years away, not that I'm counting.

Our initial plan was to take this trip in May 2020. I guess you all know what happened that year. The following year we couldn't go for various reasons; the same thing happened last year. This year, however, it finally happened and my daughter Laura and I spent 10 amazing days exploring Italy.  Actually 11 days if you count the 6-city, 4-airline, 48-hour odyssey trying to get home from Italy, thanks to a nationwide travel strike and shit weather the day we were scheduled to leave. 

It was an incredible and memorable trip. Cinque Terre was absolutely stunning and lived up to my two decades of expectations, and the area is certainly worthy of anyone's bucket list. I love active vacations and that area was perfect for that as you can hike from one village to another.  One day alone, we logged 99 flights of stairs! Exhausting but certainly worth the effort for the views from one village to another. 

We started in Milan, spent four days in Cinque Terre in two different villages and finished out trip in Florence, my favorite Italian city. We changed Airbnbs every two nights so it we were always packing and on the move, but we did well and packed light.

Overall we got along quite well, as we usually do. I also learned a lot about myself. Apparently sometimes I breathe very loudly, drag my feet when walking, burb entirely too much and snore. Also, I need to start dying my gray hairs, because it's no longer "working for me." All revelations my millenial daughter shared with me during our travels. I made a mental note to look into hair dying options and recommended ear plugs and the white noise app on her phone. 

I suffer terribly from Direction Deficit Disorder (DDD) so going anywhere can, often inadvertantly, become an adventure. Sadly my daughter seems to have inherited that gene so it turns out she is also directionally challenged but is quite the master at Google maps, so thanks to GPS technology and the kindness of many strangers, we stayed the course...at least most of the time. 

Wine country awaits

We spent one day doing a wine tasting tour out in the Chianti region of Tuscany, which is also a very pretty part of Italy. We visited a few vineyards, learning about the difference between Chianti and Chianti Classico. As a huge red wine lover, I enjoyed tasting and hearing about how the grapes are cultivated and how the different soil makes such a huge difference. 

At the second vineyard, we were in a courtyard listening to the sommelier explain more about their wines. After he was done, Laura asked why he was staring at me the whole time. I had actually noticed that among the 20 or so participants, that he did seem to be focusing on me. I assumed it was because I was being attentive and genuinely interested in the topic: wine.



Next we went into the actual wine cellar and he continued his talk about how the wines are stored, etc. After taking some ribbing from a few of the others on the tour, I did take note this time that he had his eyes quite literally locked into mine. It was so obvious, in fact, that I had to look away a few times to stifle a giggle.

Well after that, the teasing escalated. It was becoming quite obvious that the sommelier, Gianni, might be a tad smitten with me. At one point, one of the guys on our tour missed out on one of the samples, a Super Tuscan that was quite good. He desperately tried to get the attention of Gianni to get his sample, but was being largely ignored. A few of them recommended that I ask on his behalf. I swear I barely whispered his  name and he immediately came over. 

After the tour, Laura told him I was single and encouraged me to give him my cell number, which after 8 glasses of wine seemed like a splendid idea.  That night he started calling, trying to find me out in Florence, leaving multiple voicemails (that will never be deleted). They all started the same: "Hey Baby," a phrase that has been on repeat by my daughter ever since." For days, I received calls and messages and eventually we connected on Whatsap. 

I am not going to lie; it's flattering. I encounter this phenomenon on the dating apps all the time. I blame Stifler's mom (American Pie reference). Most men on dating apps lie about their age, but it's typically to make them appear younger. Conversely, however, many younger guys lie and say they are 10 or more years older. Bottom line: younger guys dig me. I'm sure many of you remember I have a little experience in this area as I explained in this blog, Don't Call me a Cougar. 

Back to Gianni. Rather tragically I finally had to ask the question of how old he actually was. Unfortunately, Gianni, turns out to be significantly younger than he looks. I'll blame early onset male pattern balding for this, but turns out my young suitor is the same age as my kids, so it went from flattering to yucky pretty quickly. 

Despite this rather tragic reality, Gianni remained adamant and I must say this response definitely made me laugh. 


So unfortunatey, this is where our story ends here. But the bottom line, and one might say silver lining to this particular story: I still got it!!!  I'm not going to lie, turning 58 and being hit on by a man 30 years younger, isn't the worst thing to happen either. Did I mention how wonderful the wine was?

Ok, well I better close. Weather is predictably getting colder so the good news is this means more blogs from Barb! Talk about a silver lining, am I right?

I hope this all finds you well and ready to gear up for the final sprint to the end of the year. 

Until next time, my friends.

Barb



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Monday, September 4, 2023

The Ebb and Flow of a Mother's Nest

I would like to start off this blog by making an exciting announcement. Overnight I hit over 20,000 views of my blog! This is particularly shocking considering I've been playing all summer and haven't really been doing a whole lot of writing.  I only write when there's nothing I can do outside, and this summer has been particularly amazing so while I've played a lot of tennis and seen a lot of concerts, I haven't been particularly prolific in terms of my blogging. 

A few interesting things have happened. My blog is read by people from countries all over the world, but the bulk of my readers are obviously in the US.  At some point over the last six months, someone in Singapore found a link to my blog and it's been quite widely shared. According to Google Analytics, over the last six months, I have almost as many readers in Singapore as I do in the US...and I don't know anyone there. I had to pull up a map to even figure out exactly where it is!


Bottom line is apparently people in Singapore think I'm hilarious. I have absolutely no idea how anyone there has ever stumbled across my blog. It wasn't through social media, and I've never put a dime into promoting my blog through any means. It's quite curious, but let me just take a minute to thank my readers in Singapore. I truly appreciate it and keep reading!

It just shows you the power of social sharing with others. I hope you all keep sharing my blog. It encourages me to keep it up, and creating a big following will also be key to me landing that lucrative book advance and movie deal I have in the works. 😁

The Empty Nest Season

It's that time of year again. Your social media feeds are stacked with images of the smiling faces of kids returning to school. What you often don't see is the even happier moms. There's a reassuring ritual to sending kids back to school. It means an end to summer chaos and back to structured parenting; everything is now scheduled. School, homework, practice, meals, etc. Most moms are often quite happy to send their kids back to school.

Sending them off to college, however, is a whole different thing. Several of my close friends sent their one-and-only kids off to college this year, leaving their nest suddenly empty. My brother sent the last of his three daughters off to college this year.

Having gone through the process, I know how hard it is. You work so hard to get them to this point, you should be overjoyed; after all this is what successful parenting looks like.  As moms, we devote so much of ourselves to being good mothers that once they are gone, what is our purpose? It's also a reality that they do not come home the same kid as the one you waved to as you drove away from their dorm in tears. 

When my son went off to college, I couldn't wait for him to leave. He had spent most of his senior year being a complete a-hole. Apparently, it's life's way of preparing you for their absence. Well, it worked but as the days were counting down, he suddenly was not so sure he was ready. 

The check for his tuition had already cleared so he was going, one way or another. One day with near tears in his eyes, he said, "Mom, not every kid goes to college. Some just get married and start families." I honestly don't remember my response, but it was probably something super-sensitive like, "Shut up and go finish packing." 

The backstory was he was dating a very pretty blond she-devil who had convinced him he should stay home and marry her, once she finished high school. So going in he was not fully on-board with the plan.  Regardless, I dropped him off with a few tears and prayed he would last.

The first few weeks he continued to struggle, feeling like he didn't fit in and wanting to come home every weekend to visit the she-devil. I tried not to worry and assumed it would pass. Two weeks into classes, I woke up and checked his social media posts to assess how things were going. On his Facebook page, he wrote the following: 

"Officially a dropout."

I laid there in bed for several minutes, contemplating whether I should be concerned about my racing heartbeat and wondering what percentage of his tuition might be refundable. Once my pulse returned to semi-normal, I called him. 

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" 

Ben: "No."

"Really? You don't want to tell me about dropping out of school?"

Ben: "Mom, I joined the Miami University Skydiving Club and we're called the drop-outs!"

I probably should have worried about the prospect of him jumping out of a plane, but my only response was extreme relief. 

As a footnote, I will also add that my son who I struggled to get to college is now 30 and STILL IN COLLEGE! This year he kicked off his 11th year of higher education. While he's close to finishing his PhD and already has one Master's degree, he's already planning on a post-doc so clearly has no plans to ever actually finish college. 

When Laura left a few years later, it was a whole new ballgame. She was my last kid and since Ben left, it had just been the two of us, and we were super close. We got along well, and I was sad to see her go. I was truly going to be all alone at home. 

My young boyfriend at the time, who you'll remember from this blog, helped me pack her up and drove my car down while I quietly cried the whole trip from the backseat. Fortunately, she adjusted well so that part was easier but coming home to a quiet, empty house was tough. 

After working so hard at parenting solo through the teen years and getting them both ready to move onto this next exciting chapter, it was time for me.

For me it was the beginning of a new odyssey. I sold the family house in Ohio, and the month I turned 50 moved to Chicago to start a new life for myself. I have lived in 10 states so moving is something I have done a lot of, but this was the first time that I decided where I wanted to move. I decided what place I would buy and how it would be decorated. Yes, it was empty but the nest was all mine! 

Until it wasn't. During the pandemic, Laura's job changed and became remote, so she rejoined the nest. Honestly it was nice to have company, and fortunately I bought a duplex with a separate garden unit so she has her own space. Then she moved out, and it was nice to have my place to myself for a bit.

Then a month ago, Laura moved back in temporarily. She is in the process of moving to Salt Lake but with me until then. I'm liking having her back, and having a free dog sitter, but she also brought another resident: her cat Alfie. 

I thought I was through with cats to be honest. The first week after they moved in, I was on a Zoom work call, and one of my coworkers said, "I didn't know you had a cat" just as Alfie knocks over a picture frame, which crashes to the ground. When I turn around and see the cat, hanging from one paw from my curtains. The next day, he came sauntering in with this little gift in his mouth. 


Anyone recognize that? That's one of the pulls for my blinds that no longer works. Alfie is a busy guy and as far as I can tell, has literally no idea he's a cat. Bowie in equal parts loves and fears him. The way they play with each other, it's clear that neither of them thinks Alfie is a cat. 


Alfie has certainly added some fun and hijinks to the household, although there are a few rugs and blinds that will never be the same. 

This blog is getting long soI'll close by telling all you new empty-nesters out there who just sent their last child to college, the empty nest eventually will feel normal. And, when they do come home, he or she will be different person, but for the better. They might actually surprise you and show some appreciation for all you have done for them. Or not, but I'm sure they think it. 😉

Enjoy what's left of warm weather and keep reading!

Ciao for now,

Barb


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Saturday, June 24, 2023

A Look Back: Wise Words from a 22-Year-Old Barbie

First off, my apologies for my rather prolonged absence. Nothing is wrong. It's just when the weather gets warm, it becomes less and less likely I will spend a weekend day inside writing but today is very hot and I've been outside a lot lately so thought I would spend some time writing a blog today. Wow, lucky day!

Lately I have had several friends and family members who have kids that are either graduating from high school or college. Many of those kids are being gifted with cars, which made me think back to when I was heading to college hoping that I would also be lucky and get a car. Looking back, I have no idea why I was so optimistic. 

I thought it might be fun to jump in the Hot Tub Time Machine and go way back 35 years and give you you all a glimpse into the crazy mind of 22-year-old Barbie, a sassy senior Journalism major at Texas A&M University, and at the time a weekly columnist at my college's newspaper, The Battalion. If you missed the whole Barbie story, you can catch up here. 

Being one of the very few liberals on campus and without question one of the most vocal because of said gig, my columns were typically met with more ire than most. Got loads of hate for my criticism of the students who destroyed the shanty shacks that had beeen set up on campus to protest The Apartheid in South Africa. You can't even step on certain grass on campus without getting yelled at. Yeah, it's a thing.

I eventually decided it was safer to just write about my life instead of tackling political topics. Less hate mail that way. 

So behold, the very earliest version of the "World According to Barb," that originally posted in 1988. Sadly, you will see my writing hasn't evolved much and my sense of humor is still quite immature today, to which you can all attest. 


Oh, Joy the Search for the Perfect Auto

Over the past weekend several important newsworthy events happened. The US warship mistakenly shot down an Iranian jetliner killing, all 290 passengers, Attorney General Edwin Meese announced his resignation, and my parents bought me a new car. Well, it's not really new, but close enough.

This might not seem to some of you as a monumental event, but then again maybe I should back up and bit and fill you all in on the whole story. 

First off, I must explain a little about my parental unit. My parents believe firmly in two principles: One is that regardless of the amount of money one has, children are not to be spoiled. They must work for things they want and not just be given them. 

The second principle is that a car is simply a mode of transportation from Point A to Point B, not material possession. As a result, my family's driveway resembles a used car lot. In my family, you don't stop driving a car until it stops running. My dad still brags of a car he once owned, appropriately named the "Vomit Comet," which he bought off a friend for $50 and drove for two years. 

A lot of kids, when embarking on their freshman year, are given cars for graduation gifts by their parents. Well Bob and Barb Jones were not those parents. It was entirely out of the question. "But all my friends are getting to take cars to school," I pleaded to no avail. My parents were not ones to fall for that sort of logic. 

Fortunately, it turned out to not be such a tragedy since I was living on campus and everything could be access on foot.

My sophomore year I again pleaded for a car; instead, I got a bike. Not a new bike, but a friend of my Mom's Sears Jiffy 3-speed with goober handlebars and a basket with plastic flowers hanging off the front. I was horrified. I was going to be living off campus with no car.

The nearest grocery store was three-fourths of a mile away. To get my groceries home, I would have to steal a grocery cart and cross a busy 4-lane road and push it all the way back to my apartment—a very humbling experience. I would try and look as it had forgotten where I had parked my non-existent car. My friends called me the "bag lady." What are friends for?

Then came my junior year, and I felt assured that this was going to be my lucky year. Well, there was good news and bad news. Yes, I was going to have a car to take to school with me. The bad news was the car I had to take. 

Close your eyes and imagine every student's idea of a nightmare car. Yes, that's right a station wagon! Not just any station wagon, however, but the same one my parents bought when I was 11. It had 130,000 miles on it and it definitely was showing its age. Now imagine the worst color imaginable. Right again...Yellow!



Since the car had been collecting dust in the driveway for a decade and not driven in ages, I felt certain the old bomb wouldn't start. My (bad) luck continued, and the "Banana Mobile" as my friends called it, started on the first try with a sizable cloud of blue smoke bellowing from its tailpipe. Lucky me, right?

So off I went cruising in the Banana Mobile. Now considering the advanced age of said car and high millage, I knew the humiliation of driving this car would be short-lived, and excitedly looked forward to its dying day. Well, it lived and it lived. It was the eternal automobile, and I felt sure that this car would see my death before its own ultimate demise. 

[SIDE NOTE: For some reason I don't add (probably because it was humiliating) that one day, the entire rusted-out bumper fell off and rolled down the street, just as I was driving past the Dixie Chicken, the school hangout bar. This bumper was made of steel and the size of a modern-day Kia Rio, so obviously I kept driving. I thought that would warrant a trade-in of sorts, but no. my mom just drove it to the junk yard and for $20 I got a new (old) bumper that came with a "Honk if you love Jesus" sticker. Yep, that happened. Sorry, back to story.]

I drove it my entire junior year and senior years, and just when I thought I would have to hire a contract killer to get rid of this vessel, it happened. While I was home for the weekend this spring, my Dad discovered some major problems and deemed it unsafe to drive.  That was one of the happiest days of my life. I was finally going to get a car...or so I thought.

Sunday rolled around and no new car had materialized. My parents smugly handed me the keys to the maxi-van. It is not a merely a van, mind you, but at MAXI-van—a whopping 3 feet longer than your average van. 


I stared at them in disbelief. I once thought you would have to work really hard to find a car that is less cool than the wagon, but let me tell you a white, wood-paneled (because they got a deal) maxi-van is about as close to uncool as one can get...unless you do airport pickups for a living. 

"You will have to drive this for a couple of weeks or so until we find something else," my mom said. Well, the weeks turned to months, and I was beginning to think I was cursed. But indeed, it happened, and the rest is history. I now have my new own car--and it's not yellow! 

UPDATE: Once my siblings and I finished college and moved away, my parents immediately moved to buying only expensive premium cars. 

Summer is here

The season we all live in Chicago for is here! I hope everyone is having a great one, thus far. I promise to write a few more blogs before summer ends, have a few topics in mind. Until then, I hope this finds everyone healthy and happy.

Ciao for now,

Barb(ie) 


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