A Cat's Life

Driving home last night I realized that while I named the blog partially for my cat I haven’t mentioned him much.  I’m trying to avoid the spinster librarian who lives with a cat stereotype or the crazy cat lady moniker.

I’ve already talked about Mojo’s upbringing to this point and my history with cats.  Each time I lost one of my cats I swore it was the last.  Yeah, I know ‘never say never’.  After losing Nacho in October 2010, adopting Jingles, and then losing him in November 2011; I swore I was done.  I enjoyed the lack of responsibility, no vet bills, etc.  I realized despite the financial and personal freedom – not to mention the fact that it is a lot easier to rent a place when you have no animals – I was lonely.  So back I jumped into the pool.  What can I say; I’m a sucker for dark haired, blue-eyed males.(All six of my meezers have been either seal or chocolate points.)  I wanted to refrain from my usual follow up to that statement but I can’t .  They are the perfect men; they don’t leave the toilet seat up or hog the remote to watch football.  Jingles did have a thing for Dance Moms though but we would watch that together.

Siamese are highly intelligent, vocal and independent; a breed that is not for everyone.  I have heard that some rescues won’t take them because of these traits – basically they are divas but that’s what I love about them.

When I lost Jingles I let the director of the Siamese Rescue center from which I adopted him know.  I asked her if I could volunteer now and then to get my meezer fix because I wasn’t going to go through that again – twice in less than a year was too much.  Crafty woman that she is, she invited me to an upcoming event at the center – that way I could learn about the volunteer opportunities, yeah, right.  I guess I must have sucker written on my forehead.  Knowing I could also visit the current adoptees I checked out the profiles on their webpage (gratuitous plug http://www.siameserescue.org/).  Admittedly, Mojo was my second choice but when I walked into the center and saw him, the ear makes him easy to recognize – he had me at his first purr.  Mojo is a diva, drama queen, ex street thug and teddy bear.  I was told he was found on the streets of my state capital behind a vet’s office.  If you can see his picture you can see that his right ear is damaged.  Best guess is that he was in a fight got a hematoma in his ear which calcified so he has a dented ear which requires a little special care.  He is my favorite type of meezer known as an apple head.  They are bigger they don’t have the thin face or rat-tail.  Mojo is built like a football player- he is very stocky and looks big though he’s just about 9 lbs – he’s all fur. (As I am coming to discover now that the weather is warm and he’s shedding.  If you come to my house in black pants or skirt don’t sit anywhere unless I give you a towel.  His hairballs, I must say, are very well made – symmetrical and well formed, which fortunately makes them easy to clean up).  I brought Mojo home the day I met him – what can I say, I’m easy.  Jingles transport from the center was very traumatic so I was a bit wary.  Other than the fact that he screamed like he was being tortured for the hour long trip home, it was uneventful.  In the dining room, I opened the door to the carrier, he walked out and looked around as if to say – “This is where I’m going to live, it’ll do.”  Three hours later we were on the couch together watching an NCIS marathon on TV.  Other than a small accident in February that required me throwing out an area rug, its been smooth sailing. (He just came over and plopped himself on top of my notebook.  As I’m writing around a cat who is alternately eating the pen and licking my forehead I hope I can read this later – turns out I couldn’t had to do some creative editing.  My guess is he doesn’t want his life publicized.)  He has settled in well the ‘survive at any cost’ mentality is disappearing.  He is less inclined to steal my dinner – happened once – now that he’s sure of a constant supply of dry food.  He is a bit of a food critic though.  If he doesn’t find the canned food to his liking, he attempts to bury it – think cat in litter box after he has finished his business.  However, having spent time not knowing when his next meal would be, he eventually eats it.

He, like all Siamese, is a diva and thinks the world should revolve around him.  Of course, it does.  The drama queen in him does not like to be too hot or too cold.  As I have said before, I’d rather spend my money on dance lessons so I keep the heat at 65.  He doesn’t like this.  The second the heat goes on he stretches himself across the closest register.  Conversely I have yet to turn on the AC despite several days in a row at or near 90 – it’s already cooled off so what was the point.  Now he stretches out on the floor between the front and back doors to catch any cross breeze.  He hasn’t been sleeping with me because the bedroom is too hot.  He doesn’t come upstairs until it’s time for me to get up.  Anyone who says animals aren't intelligent has never lived with one.  Mojo has the instincts of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.  My breathing changes because I’m waking up and that cat knows it.  No matter where he is in the house he’s up in my bedroom and on the bed in a flash walking all over me.  The only reason he was on the bed with me last night was that it was raining and the upstairs had cooled down.

So that’s life with my guy as of now.  He thinks I should cater to his every whim and I do, most of the time because the companionship, unconditional love and joy he brings into my life are worth it.

Channeling my Inner Muffy

I was going to call this Channeling my Inner Buffy but ever since the program about vampires became popular it doesn’t have the same connotation it had 32 (eww, has it really been that long?) years ago when I entered college.  I have always liked the preppy look, though I have moved away from it professionally.  Personally is another issue I have to say.  I was going to an 80’s themed social dance a few weeks ago; I was driving to work the day before trying to figure out how I could put together a preppy 80’s look because I didn’t think I had the clothes anymore.  It took me a few miles to realize I had all the pieces, I just needed to put them together in the right order again.  I had  thought the look was all but dead until a friend of mine turned me on to Jen Lancaster’s books.  At first I didn’t like her because she was just like many of the women I disliked in college but I persevered.  I figured anyone who loves her rescue animals as much as she does can’t be the witch she came across as in her first book.  I’ve come to realize she has a lot of very good qualities, not the least of which is her penchant for shirts decorated with an alligator.  I haven’t owned one of those shirts in years.  I wore out the ones I had in college and I thought they had disappeared.  However, after reading the aforementioned author I realized they were still very much alive albeit very expensive.  Come on $100 for something I could get in a big box store for $25 dollars are you kidding?  Granted it would be missing the requisite reptile (had to look that one up I wasn’t sure if they were reptiles or amphibians – it’s been a long time since middle school science) but I could live with that.  On Sunday, I hit my local outlet mall – actually went to return something and ended up spending more money.  I scored big time – found out this mall now has an outlet for those wonderful polo shirts.  Decided I would go in to see how much they were selling them for.  As luck would have it they were having a Memorial Day sale and they were only $35.  That is a much more realistic price.  Only found one in my size but it is a rich shade of purple which looks really good on me.  Further down I went to another of my favorite preppy enclaves which had for a while moved away from its roots and scored yet again. A coral and white striped seersucker wrap skirt embroidered with pineapples for $15 – in this store that is almost unheard of, who cares if it is a season old it was $15.  Of course the sleeveless polo dress embroidered with their logo (a golden fleece not a horse – don’t do the horse logo shop; their clothes don’t fit.) was a bit more but still…

I was sitting on my deck reading Monday morning, Mojo was attempting to unlock the screen door or failing that, rip a hole in itto join me outside.  When he succeeded at neither and began to yowl as only a Siamese can I decided my sanity was more important so I headed to the local pet mega store to get him a leash and collar so he could safely be with me and not try to taka header off the balcony.  What do I find but a pink and green argyle collar?  Ok, so he was male at some point in his life and I realize I’m probably pushing the limit with pink and green And a pink bell but it was too me not to buy.  We’re working on the collar and leash thing in total but he doesn’t seem to be too offended by the color of the collar.  As for me – I need to start wearing my pearls and penny loafers on a more regular basis…

Lunch should be abolished

Without question my absolute least favorite daily task is deciding what to eat for lunch.  I accept that lunch is a necessity but why does it have to be so difficult?  If one works outside the home one is at the mercy of the work environment.  I think my dislike for lunch stems from my years as a temp and substitute teacher.  The first day at a new location was always peanut butter and jelly.  PB & J can survive without refrigeration.  I would never know what the facilities would be; was there a refrigerator and microwave or failing those a cafeteria of some nature?  Granted when I was in schools I knew there would always be the latter but sometimes it was eat at your own risk.  I did get lucky a few times.  The teacher’s dining room at the high school I should have attended had my parents not chosen to uproot me my freshman year made a matzo ball soup that was amazing.  One school where I worked had a cafeteria staff worthy of a restaurant.  They would start preparing the Thanksgiving meal two days in advance – everything was made from scratch.  It was torture for me because the kitchen was very near the library so I got to smell turkey, pies and breads baking for two days.  It was worth the wait.  The staff decorated our tables with real tablecloths and candles and the meal was served family style.  The last high school in which I worked was attached to the area vocational school which boasted a culinary arts program.  Once a week the classroom was opened up to the teachers so the students could learn how to run a restaurant.  I looked forward to those days – the meal was abundant, reasonably priced and always good.  Of course regardless of where one works there might always be the occasional pot luck meal where homemade goodies abound.  Where I am currently employed is in the middle of nowhere.  The closest restaurants are in another state and it takes twenty minutes to get there, difficult when you are given thirty minutes for lunch.  We are lucky in the spring to have a small barbeque stand available but they are only open on Friday.  This requires me to come up with meals four out of five days.  If I am ambitious and cook over the weekend then I might have leftovers.  However, most Mondays roll around where my weekend meals have been a slap-dash affair and I haven’t been to the grocery store.  This weekend was one of those; so Sunday at 5:00 pm I found myself hard boiling eggs for lunch.  Egg salad is not my favorite thing but it beats going hungry.  As this week looks to pan out the only night I will be home to cook will be tonight, down side is I don’t even have bread for a PB & J.  It’s getting too humid and the bread gets moldy before I have time to eat it.  I hate putting bread in the refrigerator.  Having to decide what to eat for lunch is such a pain – even on the weekends – I feel the meal should be abolished.  The majority of people in this country work through it anyway so who would miss it?

No pain, no gain. Who are they kidding?

As I mentioned before I am a competitive ballroom dancer or I ballroom dance competitively.  I never know which to say because frankly I don’t like either because I don’t consider myself a competitive person.  Competitive ballroom dancing is also called dancesport.  Therein, for me, lies the problem.   I am for all intents and purposes, a slug. I have a problem with my left knee which I learned about only after a car accident when I was in m my 20’s.  I saw my family doctor about the pain and his reply was “Well we would have found it earlier if you had even been remotely athletic in your teens.”.  Yes I remember this even twenty years on, this was also the same man who told me I was fat and he could have done with some exercise as well.  I digress.  I dutifully go to my weekly dance lessons which I video.  I will then spend a couple of hours watching the video and taking notes.  That’s the way I learn.  I intend to practice daily, I really do but except for when I’m in the shower or cooking dinner that’s all it remains an intention and you know what they say about intentions and roads.  I understand the need to practice on an intellectual level but it is so counter-intuitive to my learning style and personality.  I’d much rather sit on the couch knit and watch Dancing with the Stars.  I only watch the female pros dancing to see how they do things, doesn’t that count for something?

Anyway I like my new dance teacher.  We have only been working together for a year and have only competed once.  It isn’t out of lack of desire on my part there are basically two reasons; first, I need to do things like pay rent and eat.  (I keep my house at 65 in the winter and 77 in the summer.  I’d rather spend my money on dance lessons, if I’m cold I can always wear another layer of clothes); second from a dance standpoint my feet suck.  My teacher and I agreed I wouldn’t compete again until my feet improve.

My lessons were actually the point of this post.  As I said I like my teacher.  We get on well.  We work hard and the lessons fly by quickly.  I have learned a lot in the past year.  He doesn’t expect perfection because he says no one, himself included, is perfect.  He is, however, full of it.  I have decided that I will no longer refer to him as my teacher but as my coach.  Teachers generally bring to mind someone who is nurturing, encouraging learners to stretch and grow – think here of your favorite elementary school teacher.  Coaches are, in my mind, strong willed, determined and can be sometimes brutal in their methods.  Like teachers they want those under their tutelage to excel, however most feel losing is not an option.  How many sporting events have you seen where coaches are screaming from the sidelines.  In my chosen sport my coach is much closer – often connected to me from chest to knees which eliminates the need for screaming.  After my lesson tonight I have decided my coach is a sadist and I say that in the most loving way.

I have tried to remind him that I am nearly fifty, with a heart condition, bad knees, about 30 pounds over weight and recently prone to panic attacks.  I try not to whine in my lessons just simply ‘suck it up’ as they say.  Though I have been known to laugh hysterically and say ‘you want me to do what?” when he shows me a new part of a routine.  When I think about my dancing I don’t see why I can’t do all the things a 20 year old who it a size 2 can do.  I want to dance like that I really do, my body has a somewhat different opinion.  I know there are a lot of people my age and older who are in fabulous physical shape and who tackle health issues far greater than mine.  I am an introvert who tends to run out of steam easily.  By the end of the day I want to do nothing more than go home and hide.  I am pretty much zapped of all energy and if I have been dealing with a panic attack I’m drained.  I try to eat well but I am also a stress eater and trust me when I’m stressed – carrots are the last thing I want.  The other night my dinner consisted of roasted chicken, rice, gravy and baking powder biscuits nary a vegetable in sight.  In my defense I had been eating carrots, celery, apples and bananas and nuts during the day.  I also hate to do any other type of exercise besides dancing.  The reality is the deck is not stacked in my favor.  Now that I have made excuses, back to the matter at hand.  I drive an hour each way to get to where I have my dance lessons.  Tonight after the 45 minutes of grief  I received it took every ounce of energy I had left to get out of the car.  My legs were not in the mood to cooperate when I asked them to stand.  Once I got everything into the house and laid out the things I needed for tomorrow morning I was barely able to get up the stairs to take a shower.  While he is a sadist he at least warns me of what is to come with thoughtful questions like ‘how does your knee feel?’.  I have learned by now when he gets like that I’m in for it, my response to him was – ‘it’s fine now but I’m thinking it won’t be so great in about 20 minutes’.  He found that rather funny.  Sometimes I feel like I’m in obedience school because I hear ‘sit’ every few seconds.  Other times I feel like a misbehaving employee because I hear ‘what’s your job here?’.  Tonight I’m not sure what to liken it to because I kept hearing ‘glue your arm”.  As I wobbled down the hill to my car after my lesson I kept thinking to myself, I pay for this  – am I crazy?  I have to be a masochist to keep going back for this week after week.  I was thinking about stopping at the local ice cream stand on the way home to reward myself for surviving but I guess the lesson did one thing – I changed my mind because I was too bloody tired to stop.

To my coach if you ever read this – you know I love you.  Just remember I don’t spring for the Red Bulls because I want to have money to dance.

Crazy Animals

Well I finally figured out how to make this work on my iPad. Score one for the librarian. Of course free wi-fi at an outlet mall while eating a falafel pita helps too. Today seems to be crazy animal day. I have a suet feeder on the tree in my front yard which was empty the last few months of cold weather. Hey, I had the suet it was just too cold to go out to fill it so what do I do? I wait until it's warm out and the birds don't need it, makes sense to me.  I have had a few blue jays and a cardinal stop by to partake; I only filled it two days ago. I arrived home earlier than usual to find two rodent thieves, a.k.a. squirrels, were in the tree and a majority of the suet was gone.  When I got out of the car and approached the tree one of them ran away.  The second more urban commando of the two sat in the base where the two main branches met at the trunk watching me, daring me to come closer.  He was just sort of lounging there; if he could speak a language I understood would have been saying “Yeah babe, you wanna a piece of me?  Come on get closer.”  Give the fact that I had just returned from a job interview and was wearing the only thing I had that remotely resembled a suit and that this was a rodent who could potentially carry rabies I opted to keep my distance.  I was less than three feet away from him, however, and he still wouldn’t move.  Well I guess he got tired of my verbal assaults and did eventually run up the tree but still remained there.  I went into my bedroom to change my clothes and we were again eye to eye and it was his turn to issue epithets to me from a safe distance.  I gave up on this issue figuring it wasn’t worth making myself look like the crazy neighbor over 99 cent suet blocks.

While I had been bringing my things in from the car a fly got in the house.  Since I was dealing with psycho squirrel I let it be hoping the cat wouldn’t find it.  My hope was in vain however, because at one point I looked up towards the front door to see Mojo not only catch but eat the fly.  Of course at that moment I was not able to get up quickly to prevent it and again yelling at him did no good.  I am assuming that he appeared in good health for the remainder of the evening, digesting the fly did him no harm.  At least I know he’s a good hunter unlike my previous Siamese who would look at me as if the say “You want me to catch that?” they didn’t chase critters they hired minions to do it for them.

Some of Life's Truths

This one is a given but I was musing over it as I was driving home the other day:

• If you are running late be it at the grocery store or driving you will end up behind someone who is not.

The rest are more pertinent to me:

• Locking the car because your phone and purse are in there is pointless if your back window is open all the way.

Luckily I was at someone’s house and it was only a short stop.

• Always use the rest room before getting on a major highway, even for a short trip.  If not, you are guaranteed to be stuck in traffic.

This I have learned over years of having an hour commute to work each way.

• Never tell your cat you’ll be home at the normal time and then you’ll spend the evening on the couch with him – it doesn’t happen.

Yes, I talk to my cat.  Does that make me crazy?  I think not; he is a living, thinking being.  Also when I am actually talking to myself it makes me look less eccentric.  On that subject the hands free devices for cell phones are the greatest invention for mankind.  Now I can talk to myself while I’m driving and no one will know it.  It comes in handy when I’m driving home late at night trying to stay awake as caffeine is no longer an option for me.

• Trying to be funny in an e-mail or text always ends up backfiring – the icons included for text or e-mail don’t always go through.

Process

As I mentioned yesterday the intent behind this is not to journal but to post random thoughts as they occur to me.  I also need to make myself more familiar with Web 2.0 technology.  Information comes in many different forms these days and as I am re-branding myself as an information professional I need to be current on all means of obtaining such information.  On a side note I like the term better than librarian – there are so many stereotypes attached to that.  Yes I have never been married and yes I live with a cat and wear glasses but I am not that stereotype.  I am grateful to the upcoming generation of library professionals who also fight to dispel the stereotypes.  Proof in point just type in librarians into You Tube and you will find some truly hysterical videos – even to the non-Dewey or LC initiated.  Anyway, I digress at bit from my point.

Most bloggers would cringe to learn that I write these posts out in long hand before committing them to cyberspace – with a brief stop in Word to do a spelling and grammar check.  Obviously I’m not adverse to technology.  I’m just cheap.  I would rather spend my money on dance lessons than on more Internet access.  In an effort to simplify my life and save money I eliminated my home Internet access.  This was an agonizing decision requiring a dose of anti-anxiety meds when I took my modem back to my ISP last month.  However I was rarely on the Internet at home because I am around technology all day.  Being the card carrying introvert that I am, I can’t take too much stimulation and need quiet time with a book and the cat at home.  I have also come to appreciate the advantages of mobile technology but the reality is a smartphone was designed for the Gen X and Gen Y out there.  If you are a Babyboomer with bifocals those puppies with their 3 inch screens are murder.  They are just too small to read very well so I decided to spring for a tablet.  The alternative was to get a smartphone and tether my Internet access to my computer.  That however required buying a new computer as I am currently working off a 10 year old Dell – it runs beautifully but lacks any wireless capability.  According to the tech people at my local Staples it is perfectly healthy but too old to upgrade the memory or add wireless capability.  Also I am working off a 10 year old motherboard and hard drive so it would be pointless.  Oh how those children at Staples scoffed at me when I told them I was virus free with no virus protection or firewall.  How I smirked when in voices filled with awe they confirmed my suspicions.  I politely explained that I was a highly skilled information professional and knew how to practice safe Internet searching.  Ok yes I did get a virus once but thanks to someone who is more of a geek than I it was easily eradicated.

So with the knowledge that I was going to have to buy a new computer simply to upgrade to a smartphone and still have Internet at home I started to look at my options.  One morning I opened my e-mail to find a bit of propaganda about a soon to be released upgrade of a current tablet. Since I honestly didn’t understand fully how a tablet worked I decided to watch parts of the 2 hour long presentation.  Sad to say I was hooked.  Much to my surprise, I was able to purchase one the day after their much touted release.  The gentleman at the Verizon store after hearing of its intended use said I would be fine with a 16GB.  But I told him to super size it and I went with the 32GB.  I remember laughing at the customer service person from Dell ten years ago when she told me my computer would have a 30GB hard drive.  I responded ‘what am I ever going to need that much space for?’.  Ahem, I now have an external hard drive because I needed the space. That taught me to never say never.  So I went home the proud owner of a bright shiny new state of the art tablet.  A few weeks later I walked my modem back to its owner.  I am officially a month into this experiment of frugality.  I have found some limitations to the plan but nothing that can’t be worked around and I still have a lot to learn about life with a tablet.

This leads me back to the long hand writing.  One of the things I have yet to figure out is how to make Blogspot work with my tablet since Blogspot is a Google product and therefore a Hatfield to the operating system on my tablet’s McCoy (or Capulet and Montague – take your pick).  So I sit in my jammies in bed at night writing out my thoughts with pen and paper to be transferred to cyberspace when I have access to a computer.  Once I learn how to make Blogspot happy with my tablet I will forgo the pen and paper for the tablet.  As I wrote that I realized the irony in that statement.  When man first began to commit words to some level of permanency they wrote on stone tablets, thousands of years and leaps in technology later we are back to writing with tablets. Upside is they don’t weigh quite as much.

Blogging 101 from my perspective.

For some time I have toyed with the idea of writing a blog but I couldn’t see how anything I had to say would be remotely interesting to anyone.   Having seen and read Julie and Julia as well as reading Jen Lancaster’s books I thought perhaps I  could do this.  I don’t exactly want to open myself up to public ridicule so I chose to play it safe and only make this seen by my Facebook friends.  At some level it is much less painful to be ridiculed by people you know than by perfect strangers.  That is probably somewhat twisted logic but I would hope that those who have ‘friended’ me on Facebook would truly be a bit kinder than those who don’t know me.  Although I’m sure since I am using Google’s blog tools it could become searchable to much of humanity.  The thing that delayed the onset was coming up with a name.  I wanted it to sound interesting and reflect the things about which I would be writing.

There is an old adage for authors which states ‘write what you know’.  I had thought at first I would entitle this Confessions of a Spinster Librarian while this is accurate it wouldn’t work for a number of reasons:

1.      It sounds like a bad porn movie.

2.      It makes me sound dateless and desperate.  I’ve come to accept being nearly 50 and still single – but that is for another post.

3.      While yes, I am currently a librarian I am trying to re-brand myself so Confessions of an Information Professional was a bit too wordy though less pornographic sounding in nature.

As I mention in my first post when asked about what I wished to write I had replied life and stuff.  The stuff, if I adhere to the writer’s adage, about which I know or claim to know, is the following: knitting, ballroom dance, cooking, work and seeking of same, being an introvert, my cat and just about life in general.  Admittedly for most of the things on this list I have friends, colleagues or acquaintances that are much more skilled than I.  Please know this is only my point of view.  As many of you know I have a somewhat snarky attitude toward many things – I have actually had other words used but I’m trying to keep this G rated or PG at the very least.  I also don’t want any of my family members who might read this thinking I have a mouth like a – insert euphemism of your own choosing.  My friends know otherwise.  Speaking of my friends they should not fear. This is not a journal of any type.  I am not going to write anything personal in nature unless it directly applies to me.  If I mention any of my friends there will be nothing negative and they will be referred to in only general terms.  I value my friendships and would do nothing to jeopardize those.  I am going to endeavor to keep things very general and stay away from controversial subjects.  This is not going to be a forum for me to rant and rave about life but an effort to look at things in a more humorous light and perhaps help me get over the panic attacks that have recently been plaguing me.  If any of my friends think I have crossed a line send me an e-mail and I will pull the posting.  As to the general public - if they don't like what I have to say then let them write their own blog.

Introduction

I think the best way to begin this is to explain the title of the blog.  As with many things one must have a starting point.  While I have already decided on the subjects for upcoming posts I had to give this a name.  I turned to an old friend who by passion if not by vocation is a wordsmith.  Her first question was about what I would be blogging.  I sort of shrugged though she could not see it because this conversation, as with most that we have, was being done via e-mail.   I responded that I didn't know just stuff and life.  Since she's very familiar with the stuff in my life she and her significant other brainstormed over lunch and sent me a list of options.

I chose this title for several reasons.  In December I adopted the 6th in a line of Siamese spanning nearly 25 years.  He is my 4th rescue; was found by a vet on the streets, cared for and sent to Siamese Rescue.  The person who took him to Siamese Rescue called him Morning Joe after her favorite blend of coffee.  She told me she had taken to calling him Mojo for short.  I felt it fit his roguish appearance as he has an ear that was injured in some way while he was on the streets.  He came into my life at a difficult point so I thought it was fitting that I had 'found my mojo' so to speak.  The mambo part comes from the fact that I am an amateur ballroom dancer.  I compete in both American smooth and American rhythm.  While mambo is not my favorite of the 5 rhythm dances, it is one in which I compete.  It may be an overused concept but I do feel that dance is a metaphor for life.  Some days you get up and everything is in step, you glide smoothly and gracefully through life.  Other days feel as if you were somehow given two left feet.  The only way you are going to make it through is to keep practicing and if you are lucky be guided through the steps by someone more experienced than yourself.

As to why the blog, many of the reasons I will probably discuss in these posts.  The short answer is there are transitions I am facing; a job/profession change and a major birthday rapidly approaching are two.  I realize this is an onerous task I am undertaking as I am an introvert and somewhat private person.  I can't see this being an everyday thing but it is something which I will do on a regular basis.  My 'mission statement', to paraphrase Food Network personality and guru of food science Alton Brown, is for another post.