Sunday, May 31, 2020

"No Speed" Naveed and the Joys of Urban Transport

Greetings again, fellow survivalists! I'm back. Last weekend it was nice out so I will admit that I played a lot and wrote not a word. I hope you all have survived the last week despite this. I'm sure it touch and go, but I'm back! Still locked down here in Chicago, but still lawlessly disregarding the "no tennis" policy and getting out and hitting balls with my friend and co-conspirator, who I just found out tested positive for the antibodies for COVID.

Interestingly enough, one of the other women I've been hanging out with in my building during the quarantine also tested positive for the antibodies so that's good news. Courts opening officially soon so that makes me very happy! Weather has been lovely. Finally got my pantry organized (see below). No, Mom, that's not really cocaine! Just me being a smartass.

I'm also damn close to touching my toes so that yoga shit must really be working! When I do, there will be video evidence. Those are my silver linings for the week. What are yours? Not easy lifting identifying the positive this week.



Appears the world is going to hell in a hand basket. City-wide curfew because of all the looting and violence overnight is now in place. Makes me sick and so mad to think that greedy opportunists have destroyed what should have been a powerful message delivered through peaceful protest. So today we all have to dig a bit deeper for those "glass half full" thoughts. They are always there though.

The logistics of moving about in the city

As I have mentioned before, one of the things I dislike most about living in the city is just the required logistics of moving from place to place. If you live in a city, you spend an inordinate amount of time and money just moving your own ass around. Cabs, parking tickets, traffic at all times of day and night, red light cameras, and of course, your city sticker   all part of the fun and expense of driving in the city.

We touched on my parallel parking phobia and my road rage-fueled potty mouth in a previous blog. City drivers really are the worst (and yes, I'm now including myself in this group). Driving in the cities isn't about being nice, it's about survival. It's war out there and blinkers are a sign of weakness.

The bottom line is that getting around any big city is a grind. It requires real effort. Public transportation is cheap and efficient, but sketchy at certain times of the night so I typically defer to ride sharing, either Uber or Lyft.

@courtesy of BoredPanda.


When I first moved here, I asked my brother-in-law about the logistics of getting to the airport since he's a consultant and travels weekly for his job. I live within a mile and a half of Wrigley so in the summer when the Cubs are in town, finding an Uber can be an issue. I liked the idea of scheduling a ride but Uber didn't have that ability at the time. He mentioned the idea of finding a driver I like from a ride share and using them as a regular driver.

"No Speed" Naveed

My first trip to the airport after I moved here, I used Uber and got a lovely Indian driver named Naveed. He was extremely polite, his car was spotless and smelled like exotic spices, and he appeared to be a calm yet confident driver, not erratic like many cab drivers. I often get car sick in cabs because of the quick starts and stops. He was married and had kids the same age as mine.

As we made our way to the highway, I asked if he had ever driven anyone outside of Uber. He said he had not. So we worked out a deal; we exchanged cell numbers and he promised to buy a Square device so I could expense my airport trips. It was a perfect situation. Until it wasn't.

Soon we got to the highway, which is about the halfway point to O'Hare. I was a bit alarmed by his merging speed, which seemed equivalent to a fast golf cart. We fortunately we able to merge in but then I noticed Naveed was topping out speed-wise around 50 MPH. Might seem wise but on a highway in Chicago where the average speed is probably around 70, this is not a wise strategy. Very old women were flying past us.

I texted my brother-in-law Greg about my current rather unfortunately situation. His response, "hahahaha, you hired "No-Speed" Naveed?" Very clever but not funny. I eventually got over his centurion driving style and just appreciated that when I had a flight, Naveed always show up on time to get me there and then come back and bring me home. I just built in the extra 10-15 minutes it took us to get there.

Looking back there were a few oddities, or red flags. One time, he picked up me and the kids after a ski trip to Colorado. He had a pretty small car so I sat in front and the kids in back. It was Christmas Eve around 9 pm and Naveed asks, "What are we feeding the children." I could see Ben's expression from the back seat, conveying confusion. I think my response was whatever had not turned ugly in the fridge while we were away. Oh no, he insisted on calling restaurants for us. No, that's not necessary, Naveed. Later he texted me and asked if I would be sharing vacation pictures. I didn't respond.

I will say Naveed never missed a holiday: Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, Easter, Christmas, always thinking to text me images of flowers. It's the thought that counts, right? My kids definitely thought I needed to end my working relationship with Naveed, but it was very convenient and he was if nothing else, quite reliable.

Well, all of this came to a crashing halt one day. I had a flight to Boston for work. I came out to get in the car and first I noticed that Naveed seemed to be a bit more dressed up than usual. He jumped out to assist with my bag but then instead of opening up the back door, he opened up the passenger door. I paused for a moment, but didn't want to make it awkward so I got in. Immediately I noticed an overwhelming smell. He was burning incense that was attached to the cigarette lighter. His car smelled like a hookah bar. Signaling my dislike by frantically waving my hands in disgust, he quickly detached it.

I initiated the normal chit chat, asking him how things were going. He solemnly shook his head. Oh no. Yes, apparently he and his wife were getting divorced. Oh man, I suddenly am not liking where this is going. He then starts asking me about some type of Indian shirt, name of which I don't remember. No, I do not have a shirt like that. His next question was what size am I? Wait, no, Uber drivers don't buy their passengers things. Then he asks about some restaurant and at this point I just feign that I can't understand him. In my head, I'm starting to fight the urge to just throw myself out of the car  because let's face it; we probably were not going that fast.

As we approach the airport, he starts driving slower and slower, perhaps sensing my vibe. Cars are quite literally flying by us on all sides. I finally scream, "Naveed, you are going to get us killed if you don't speed up." He sped up a bit. When we blessedly finally arrived at my drop off, I jumped out immediately, thinking to myself, Naveed, this is the end of the line for us. Perhaps he sensed that too because when I asked for the receipt, suddenly he seemed unable, or perhaps unwilling, to produce it. He kept saying, "Don't worry, you can pay me when you come back." Nope, that's not happening. For one, I'm never getting in a car with him again, but I decided that was more than I could handle communicating at this point. I explained how I can't pay him unless I have a receipt but again, he said insisted I not worry about it.

I was just happy to be out of his car. So I go through security, board my plane and take my shitty middle seat in the back of the plane. Then my boss calls and tells me that the people I am coming to meet did not make their flight from Paris so the whole meeting was getting rescheduled. Do you have any other meetings here, she asked. After replying no, so she simply said, "get off the plane then." I didn't even know you could do that, but I had no checked luggage, so what the hell? I grabbed my bag, put it on my head and swam upstream like salmon to get off the plane. I'm sure people were speculating: panic attack? Sudden change in plans? Curiously not a single person asked why I was suddenly de-planing. Though the gate agent did shout, "what seat were you?" so they could at least fill my crappy seat.



I took a cab home. Later in the week, I started getting texts from Naveed. I knew explaining the entire scenario would be too much. When are you coming back? What time is your flight? I responded that I had not actually gone to Boston, so I would not be needing a ride home from the airport. "Oh, ok, so what time should I come?" This insane text conversation went round and round until I finally stopped responding. He just could not accept the reality: this would be the end of the road for us. He has been added to the "blocked" list on my phone, along with a hefty handful of dates that went sideways on me after I gave them my cell number.

Thanks as always for reading and I hope this finds you all well or at least surviving.

Until next time. Namaste.

Barb

Missed any blogs? You can catch up with the past blogs with links below:

It's About DamnTime: Barb's First Blog

6 Tips for Working from Home

Celebrating Love Amid Dark Days

Derelict Driving and My 15 Minutes of Fame

Pandemic Family Craziness

Are We Living Through the Greatest Depression?

Why is Mother's Day a Day and Not a Week?

No-Speed Naveed and the Joys of Urban Transport

Shapewear and The Costs of Being Female

Online Dating in Your 50s 

Golf, the Cruel Mistress of Summer

From Darkness Comes Light

2021: A New Year, a New Outlook

The Barbuda Triangle

Don't Call Me a Cougar 

Bidding Adieu to a Wonderful Summer

The Time Machine in the Garage

The Benefits of Being a Certain Age

There's a Sandwich in Every Beer

Remembering the Big Ass Christmas Party


Sunday, May 17, 2020

Shapewear and the Costs of Being a Female

Greetings again. We're still here. Week 97 in captivity, or it at least feels like it. Yesterday, a friend and fellow criminal and I took advantage of decent weather and broke into the only tennis courts in the city that have not been successfully locked down! I can hardly explain how happy I was to be outside hitting balls again. Yoga is great but I was longing for the endurance required and the endorphins generated by playing tennis. There is no substitute and for an hour, it felt like everything was normal.

Lucky for all of you the shitty, wet weather has returned so here I sit contemplating what the hell I'm going to write about today. I've been spending a fair amount of time concentrating on silver linings, as it is my plight in life to focus on what's positive. I complain a lot about things too. I'm a Libra so balance is important to me. On the bitching topic, looks like restaurants and bars in Chicago are not opening until July now. That's half of the summer. Seriously sucks. Quarantine is not fun, but there are some things I think most women at least don't miss. Shapewear! Anyone missing their Spanx?

I'm going to hazard a guess that you are all getting very comfortable in your new normal work wardrobe of yoga pants or sweatpants. Can you imagine pouring yourself into pair of Spanx anytime soon? I think this is a good opportunity for us women to align on this: no more shapewear!!!  I myself have a dubious history with these types of garments anyway, so I let my lady lumps exist peacefully now. My muffin tops don't want to be squished into some torturous garment. Who invented these things, anyway?


History shows us that shapewear has changed over the years to reflect societal preferences of what a woman's body should look like. In the 20s, women donned undergarments to hide their curves.  In the 50s women wore padded pointed "bullet" bras because apparently boobs were in fashion but girdles were required to cinch in your waist. Then Spandex made its appearance in the 60s, promising a more comfortable way to keep all our lady lumps in line without corsets and girdles! We can also thank this tech introduction with the beginning of pantyhose, yet another awful trend. Fortunately that one died so here's our moment ladies! Let's ban shapewear!

My first rather unfortunate brush with shapewear was after the birth of my second child. A few months after the birth, my brother was getting married and I was a bridesmaid! Yeah, right? The dresses were being hand-made by a friend of the bride's so I had to send my measurements just a few weeks post-delivery. The seamstress contacted my sister-in-law Kristen and said that I must have mis-measured. Yes, I'm now shaped like a ladybug, I do realize that!

This spurred me to action, knowing a  ladybug silhouette will not be flattering in a bridesmaid dress. How am I going to squeeze this body into a dress of any kind in the next 6 weeks?? So I left my newborn at home with her toddler brother and father and made a desperate dash to Marshall's to find some type of "jaws of life" garment to rescue me. Knowing full well I was on the clock, I grabbed a handful of suitable options, opting for the full-body assist slips and ran to the dressing room.

Not having time to waste, knowing I had baby at home that would require breastfeeding within the hour, I decided to leave my leggings and boots on. In retrospect, that might have been my undoing. I held it in my hand, pondering my plan of attack. Now this might sound silly to the men out there, but I was at a crucial juncture: should I step in it and pull up or should I go the over-the-head route. Typically I'm bigger on top than on bottom, but at this particular time, I resembled a pregnant cockroach so either approach should be equally awkward.

After determining I couldn't get my snow boots through it easily, I choose the over-the-head method. I got my first arm and one giant boob through successfully but when I tried to get my second arm and equally large other boob through, the whole thing started fighting me and tightening like a giant spandex boa constrictor. I immediately start to panic and decided to abort but now it's not budging. I'm working against gravity without any leverage. Hundreds of years of material science advances were now working against me. The more I fought to pull it off, the tighter its grip became. I struggled to loosen its vice-like grip. I'm starting to sweat as I come to the realization that I'm literally trapped in this thing.

So join me in this visual: I've got this damn thing stuck, can't pull it down and now can't pull it off so I'm quite literally wrestling at this point just to liberate myself. What are my options? If I had any adequate tool on me, I would have cut myself out, but the baby nail clippers I had on hand did not cut it, pun intended. 

So options are A: Scream for help and just live with the extreme humiliation of someone seeing me naked from the waist up — but still wearing my boots and leggings — with this goddamn contraption caught like a sling from hell? Or dislocate my own shoulder to remove it? Not great options. Eventually some primal survival  "fight or flight" instinct kicked in and with Herculean strength, I was finally able to liberate myself. I don't remember if the garment survived. I barely did.

My only other experience with shapewear was fairly recently and also ended badly. I had a big date and wanted to look good in a dress that was a bit more clingy than I usually wear. So I ordered by very first pair of Spanx, assuming shapewear had come a long way since 1995. I thought I looked a bit like a tube of toothpaste but at least the lady lumps were in line.

That night at some point, I had to pee, and it wasn't until I got to the bathroom that I realized that there was a real sense of urgency. Perhaps too much wine was at fault, but once I got in the stall, I remembered that I had to undo some type of mechanism between my legs (there to keep the garment in place) but I could not figure out how to do it. I thought it was a snap so I pulled and pulled. WTF? 

Now I was starting to panic, perhaps due to the previous trauma and the realization that peeing myself was not an option. I still could not get the damn thing to work and I couldn't pull it down without removing my entire dress! So finally I just ripped it, only then to realize later it was a hook-and-eye closure. Did I mention the wine? URGH. 

The only other time I wore it, sans the whole crotch-area attachment, it just slowly rolls itself up while I'm wearing it until the whole thing is basically around my waist. Another shapewear disaster in the books. 

Well, thanks for reading. Hope you are all ok. Congrats to all my friends with kids graduating. Sad they were robbed of proper pomp and ceremony but know they are bound for greatness, and will have a great story to tell. Some areas returning to some level of normalcy? I'm looking forward to seeing that. Stay safe though and have a great week, everyone!

Ciao for now.


Barb

Missed any blogs? You can catch up with the past blogs with links below:

It's About DamnTime: Barb's First Blog

6 Tips for Working from Home

Celebrating Love Amid Dark Days

Derelict Driving and My 15 Minutes of Fame

Pandemic Family Craziness

Are We Living Through the Greatest Depression?

Why is Mother's Day a Day and Not a Week?

No-Speed Naveed and the Joys of Urban Transport

Shapewear and The Costs of Being Female

Online Dating in Your 50s 

Golf, the Cruel Mistress of Summer

From Darkness Comes Light

2021: A New Year, a New Outlook

The Barbuda Triangle

Don't Call Me a Cougar 

Bidding Adieu to a Wonderful Summer

The Time Machine in the Garage

The Benefits of Being a Certain Age

There's a Sandwich in Every Beer

Remembering the Big Ass Christmas Party


Sunday, May 10, 2020

Why is Mother's Day a Day and Not Week?

Greetings again, fellow quarantiners. I thought this week it would be a good time to recognize all the moms out there, the ones constantly in the trenches, quarantined or not. Time to give a well-deserved shoutout to the unsung heroes who keep families running under any and all circumstances. As women we do the heavy lifting in terms of creating new life, carrying  and delivering them just so we can then schlep them around for another year, at least. Then they get bigger and start talking. Adorable at first, sure, but then they start talking back to you, which can be decidedly less cute. Then you add in the realities of life: sports, music lessons, field trips, school projects, doctor appointments, and suddenly you morph into an Uber driver with ungrateful, complaining passengers.

Sums up my parenting philosophy beautifully. 

Now don't get me wrong. I truly love my children and would not give back one day I had raising them. That said, it was hard work, every day. So really Mother's Day? Are you fucking kidding me? A day to celebrate the family's unsung hero? It should be Mother's Week at a minimum! Mother's month would be even better. And, let's face it, most Mother's Day celebrations last about 10 minutes. Do we ever actually get a full day? Maybe a breakfast is made, a few cherished gifts opened, and then boom, it's over. Now someone is asking if their soccer uniform is clean and another is asking what's for dinner. Wait, that's it?



I admit, there were many Mother's Days when I felt profoundly disappointed. I think as moms we buy into the "Hallmark" notion of what this holiday should be, believing that somehow these gestures are  somehow going to make up for everything we do for our families in the previous year. They are not. If you think your snotty teenager is not going to do some grand gesture to undo months of eye rolls and disrespect, you're probably going to be disappointed.

We do all that we do out of love and commitment. I think it's not until you are a mother yourself that you understand how important this day is. That said, reach out to your friends who are moms. With no opportunities to have massages, get their hair or nails done, or any other self-care activity, they might need it. I have received several lovely messages from girlfriends today. In a weird quarantine world, these kind words mean more.

I will say my adult children, especially my daughter, are very thoughtful now. Even my son has come around. During his high school "asshole" years, I was lucky to get a Happy Mother's Day text! I think what we all want on Mother's Day is just a little recognition.

I truly won the lotto with my mother. She is pretty amazing so I am thankful for her every day and cannot imagine my life without her. Even more blessed that she is now my friend as well. You all have gotten to know her as well through her crazy Facebook videos. Yes, she's funny and crazy (in a good way) but she's also kind, always upbeat and very loving. My mom is certainly irreplaceable and I hope she knows that every day, not just on Mother's Day.

The Mother's Day gift that keeps giving...and sometimes taking

Two year's ago, I got quite the surprise gift for Mother's Day. My kids conspired and surprised me with a puppy. Wow, right? Yeah, I know many of you are thinking, "Oh, that's so sweet!" or "OMG, what thoughtful children!" Sure, he's cute, but so are toddlers. When was the last time you heard of someone getting a toddler sprung on them? Yeah, that does not happen and surprise puppies should not either.

The picture below is a screenshot from the video that Laura took of the moment it was sprung on me. I think it speaks volumes, but if I would put words to the expression it would be something like: WTF??? This is going to destroy my summer; no street festivals, fun weekend trips, music fests, etc. Now I'm suddenly on puppy watch; can't leave for more than 3 hours at at time.



Don't worry; my retribution plan is in the works. I'll be surprising them with a puppy at some time in the future, perhaps when they have toddlers! I mean they can save on puppy chew toys because the puppy can just chew on the toddler! Brilliant, I know.



Now do I love said puppy? Of course I do. I'm not a monster. He's absolutely the cutest pup in the world but that's two years out. You have heard of childbirth amnesia? It's similar. I've had two years to forget about potty training, being awoken in the middle of the night, etc. It's just been in the last couple of months that I can leave toilet paper out. But yes, he's now a treasured member of the family and even Marley has decided to let him live.

Has everyone gone bipolar? 

How's everyone doing out there? I think this whole quarantine is making people bipolar, or at least it seems to be having that effect on me. One minute I'm happy to be outside and taking the dogs on a walk and the next minute one of themmost likely Bowiemisbehaves and I'm jerking his leash and screaming "If you pull me again, I'm going to rip your fucking head off!" Let's face it; if he were a kid, social services would probably have been called. I never actually entertained the idea of actually decapitating my dog, but bursts of anger just seem to be emerging much more frequently. The road rage is...well raging, even more than normal. Seems like there are few drivers around these days, but somehow magically the same number of assholes. My F-bombs seem to be flying more freely.

I'm sure there are some of you who have popped off on kids, spouse, partner or yes, even your dog, but I'm officially declaring we all get a sort of cosmic pass for this kind of shit. We are just human after all. Tears too, and I'm not a crier, but recently certain music, a sappy commercial and I can feel tears welling. It's like everything is amplified a bit right now.  Or maybe we are all a bit bipolar these days. Probably yoga is the only thing keeping me from true bat-shit craziness so namaste, bitches.

I hope this finds you all well. For all the moms out there right now, I'm giving you each a virtual hug and hoping you are all having a great Mother's Day or Hour or whatever. Hang in there, summer is coming and eventually life as we knew it will return or at least some version of it.

Until next time.

Barb

Missed any blogs? You can catch up with the past blogs with links below:

It's About DamnTime: Barb's First Blog

6 Tips for Working from Home

Celebrating Love Amid Dark Days

Derelict Driving and My 15 Minutes of Fame

Pandemic Family Craziness

Are We Living Through the Greatest Depression?

Why is Mother's Day a Day and Not a Week?

No-Speed Naveed and the Joys of Urban Transport

Shapewear and The Costs of Being Female

Online Dating in Your 50s 

Golf, the Cruel Mistress of Summer

From Darkness Comes Light

2021: A New Year, a New Outlook

The Barbuda Triangle

Don't Call Me a Cougar 

Bidding Adieu to a Wonderful Summer

The Time Machine in the Garage

The Benefits of Being a Certain Age

There's a Sandwich in Every Beer

Remembering the Big Ass Christmas Party


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 t...