What's the hurry?

I'm sitting here reading a magazine and suddenly, it dawns on me that I'm looking at Valentine's Day ideas. Valentine's Day? We haven't even had Christmas yet and they're pushing Valentine's Day ideas? I thought maybe I had picked up an old copy of the magazine, so I looked at the front to see the date. Sure enough, the date on the cover is February 29, 2009. 2009? Did I miss something? After I finish being worried that I've gone all Rip Van Winkle, this gets me thinking. Shouldn't magazines have to actually put a magazine out somewhere close to its supposed publication date? I realize they are trying to get a jump on things, but this is ridiculous.

Aside from the obvious, getting a February edition of a magazine in December tends to contribute to our already overwhelming sense that we are being rushed toward something. At least that's how it is for me. When I see this kind of thing, I immediately feel pressure to get finished with one thing and start another. It takes all of the fun out of present day. Can't I just enjoy my Christmas holiday without seeing candy ads and an unnecessary onslaught of relationship advice and cutesy cupid bullshit?

I don't need to start thinking about Memorial Day in January. In December, my mind is so far from a cookout that I shouldn't even try to remember what grilled food tastes like until we get somewhat closer to April. And no, I don't want to decorate Easter Eggs before New Year's Eve. Funny, I didn't see any St. Patrick's Day green beer ads in October. They really missed the boat on that one. I'm not sure they'll try to promote the 4th of July before July. Even the dimmest of bulbs would catch on to that. Maybe I'm being too critical here, but for those of us who are over 35, we like to savor each holiday and hold the passage of time at bay for as long as humanly possible. Let's face it, the ride to Christmas day is much like the uphill climb of a roller coaster. Once Christmas is actually here, the cars just go flying down the track and the next thing you know, it's August and you're another year older. Well, if you're me, you're another year older.

Maybe I'm just grumpy, maybe I'm an asshole. Who knows? All I know is that the last thing we all need right now is to be rushed through the good times. There aren't enough of them to go around and I personally would like to spend as much time enjoying these days as possible. I think I'm going to do myself a favor and ask the postman to hold my mail for a couple of months so that I can read the magazines when they are meant to be read. How else can I be sure that my horoscope will be accurate?

Until next time...

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Not Even a Mouse: A Rona Shively Short (Chapter One)

I don’t ask for much. In fact, I don’t ask for anything at all. The Christmas season is always a little stressful for me, but not for the reasons you might think. It’s not the shopping, hell, I don’t really shop. I just send everyone gift cards and let them figure it out. It’s not the parties…I don’t really go to those. Since I work for myself, there really isn’t much need for a company sponsored event. It’s not the jolly bell-ringers that stand outside of the grocery store begging for your spare change. They don’t really bother me because I usually just ignore them. No, for me, the stress comes from an entirely other place. For me, the stress hits me at about the time when everyone else is starting to feel relief. It hits me as I’m putting away my little, fake Christmas tree and trying to figure out why I bothered to set the damned thing up in the first place. It’s not like I have people over anymore. The people I used to spend Christmas with are either dead or out of my life for some other permanent reason. This year, I needed to keep busy. If I didn’t, it might give me too much time to think about why I don’t have a best friend to share the holidays with. It might be too much of a reminder that forty is right around the corner and I’m just now starting to grow up. I’ll have to put that conversation on hold for a bit, though. Don’t want to spill the beans.
I’m sitting in my office, looking at the ceiling as I do on many occasions. It hasn’t changed. It’s nothing fascinating, but it’s a hell of a lot better than looking at the pile of bills on my desk and comparing it to the ever-withering balance in my checkbook. My phone started ringing and I nearly fell out of my swivel chair. I had been deep into my “meditation” and the sudden shrillness of the phone’s ringer had startled me. I sat up and collected myself before reaching across the desk to answer.
“Shively,” I said.
“What are your hours today, ma’am?” a voice asked.
My hours are pretty much what I make them, I thought, but in an effort to sound halfway professional, I said, “9 to 4, what can I help you with?”
“I’m just down the street, I’d really like to speak to you in person if you don’t mind,” the voice said. I couldn’t really tell if this was a man or a woman. The voice was low and gravelly, but it could have been either had they smoked enough cigarettes in their day. They were definitely over forty. That I could tell. I’m not sure how, but I could tell.
Inwardly, I groaned. I really hated having people come into the office. I had only invested in the space to keep people from coming to my apartment. I wasn’t much of a hostess and truthfully, I preferred meeting my clients in public places. It was just one of those things. One less place they could track me down should they decide they want to shoot or otherwise injure me. “I guess that would be alright. I’m here for at least another hour,” I said reluctantly.
“Thank you very much, I’ll be around in a few minutes,” the voice said and they hung up.
“Okay,” I said to the dial tone.
I hung up and waited for the inevitable knock at the door. This visitor would be here whether I was ready or not. I sat back and put my hands behind my head. I really didn’t know how to prepare, so I figured I’d just sit for a moment and look stupid. It’s one of my strengths.
Fifteen minutes passed before I heard the knocking. I must have drifted off for a moment, because again, I was nearly startled out of my seat. I stood up, collected myself and walked the five steps across the office to my door. When I opened it, I didn’t see anyone. I stepped back and started to close the door when a tiny, old woman exclaimed, “Hey, wait a minute!”
I looked down and was shocked to see a woman, not more than three feet tall, standing in my doorway looking up at me. She was dressed in some kind of velvety, red wrap that made her look like a fancy bag lady. She was disheveled and her face sported a fresh bruise the size of a walnut just under her left cheekbone. Someone had roughed up this poor little, old lady. This immediately pissed me off.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “what happened to you?”
“Can I come in, please?” she said huffily. This woman was not happy. She pushed her way past me before I could invite her in and then plopped down in the small wooden chair beside my desk. She fussed and fidgeted around for several moments apparently trying to arrange her wrap so that it wasn’t bunching up underneath her. I could understand that, I hate bunching.
“Can I ask what happened to your cheek?” I asked her.
She ignored me, so I gave her a few minutes to get situated and then I walked back over to my own chair and sat down. I thought about offering her something to drink, but then decided to wait and see if she answered my question. She looked up then and eyed me suspiciously, as though I was the one who was forgetting something.
“Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?” she asked, twisting her face up as she spoke.
This is why you should always trust your first instinct about a situation. “I’m sorry, would you like something to drink? I have coffee and bottled water. I might have a Coke in there.” I pointed to my mini-fridge as though it held the answers to the questions of the universe.
“No, thank you,” she replied curtly. Well, now, why the hell would you ask if you didn’t want anything? Any sympathy I had felt for this woman was quickly dissipating.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me, what happened to your face there?” I asked her again.
She looked up at the ceiling and then around at my office. It wasn’t very impressive, so I braced myself for an unsolicited critique. “You should really get some plants in here, dear,” she said, “this place is so dreary.”
“Okay, yes, I know that, but what I don’t know is why you are here,” I said, getting impatient, “I hate to seem pushy, but you’re avoiding my question.” I’m not inclined to ignore signs of abuse, especially when little, old ladies are involved.
“Well, if you must know, I fell down the other day and one of my animals kicked me in the face,” she said testily, “not that it’s any of your business.”
“Your animals?” I said.
“Yes, my animals,” she said, not offering any additional information about the nature of the beast who had kicked her.
I was sure she was lying, but I decided not to press the issue. “Okay, then, what can I do for you, Ms.?”
“The name is Nellie, and I have a problem with my…employees,” she said, “I think someone has been stealing from us.”
This seemed straightforward enough. “What kind of business do you have?” I asked.
She hesitated for a moment and then put a finger up as she nodded her answer, “Manufacturing and distribution of toys, knick-knacks and other stuff, mostly.”
“Mostly? What else is there?” I asked.
“Well, it’s really hard to describe, but the part I’m most worried about has to do with our inventory,” she said.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked, never failing to hear that stupid song in my head as I said the words.
“I think it’s been a few months,” she said, “I wanted to be sure, so I waited before coming to you.”
“And what makes you sure?” I asked.
“Well, I started marking some of the items so that I could track which ones went missing,” she said, clearly impressed with her own ingenuity, “and for the last two weeks, there have been huge gaps in the merchandise that should be on the shelves.”
“Okay, then,” I said, “I guess I can look into this for you. What is the name of your business?” I pulled out a contract and prepared to write down the particulars.
“It’s Santac, Limited,” she said, finally smiling. Her spirits seemed to be lifting somewhat, but for no reason I could ascertain.
“Santac is spelled…?” I asked, writing down what I thought it should look like.
“S-a-n-t-a-c, limited,” she said.
“And are you’re the owner of the business?” I asked.
“Yes, part-owner, my husband and I own it together,” she said.
“Is he aware that you’ve contacted me?” I asked.
“Oh, heavens no,” she said nervously, “he wouldn’t understand all of this.”
I sat back for a moment to consider whether or not I should proceed. I didn’t like to handle family business cases where everyone wasn’t aware of what was going on. It made for a messier than normal investigation.
“Is he likely to give me any trouble if he sees me around your place?” I asked.
“Oh, no, he wouldn’t do that,” she said.
“Are you sure, because I don’t want to be hassled while I’m trying to do my job,” I said.
I hated giving the old lady a hard time, even if she had been a little rude. But, what I hated more was being bothered by people when I was trying to check shit out.
“He won’t even know you’re around, dear,” she said, “he’s usually not in the office.”
I nodded and we continued filling out the contract. I explained my fees and she pulled a checkbook out of somewhere within her frock. She wrote me a check for $1,000 and handed it across the desk. I folded it and slipped it into my jacket pocket so that I could take it to the bank later. We talked about some possible scenarios for my checking out her warehouse and decided that I should come through as some kind of salesperson. I didn’t much care for the idea, but I figured it wouldn’t matter much what I was as long as I got a look at some of her employees. She had it narrowed down to three of her stockers. She couldn’t figure out which one was stealing, but she knew that it was one of the three. She wanted me to come in and look around as though I were assessing their needs for some kind of product that I sell. I hate using my imagination to this extent.
Before she left, she reached out to shake my hand. When her hand touched mine, I was surprised by its warmth. This crotchety gal seemed like the type whose hands would be cold and bony, but hers was warm and soft. I suddenly felt like I was standing there with an old friend. There was something strange about her. I wasn’t prone to being naïve, but she reminded me of someone.
“Nah,” I said to myself, shaking my head. I reached into my pocket to take out the check she had written. The name on the check said, Donella Clos. Not even close, I thought. It was a completely different spelling. Anyway, I didn’t believe in stuff like that and if she was someone magical, why didn’t she smell like cookies. Wasn’t that the deal, all those elves and shit smelled like cookies or sugarplums or something Christmasy. “I must be losing my mind,” I said to no one in particular.
I got out a deposit slip and one of those envelopes for the ATM machine and started to fill it all out. I’d drop this in the bank on my way home. There was really no need to sit here in the office all day. I had an answering machine and it actually worked, so I left.

Come back tomorrow for Chapter Two!

Until next time...

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Rona Shively Holiday Serial...

I'll be posting my Rona Shively Holiday Short, Not Even a Mouse here on the blog over the next few days! Be sure to stop by for the rest of the story each day from today through Christmas!

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The only time I get sentimental...

There's something about the holidays that brings out my sentimental side. Most people wouldn't believe that I listen to Christmas music in my car, that I always try to put up my Christmas tree right after Thanksgiving, that I like to watch the same sappy Christmast movies over and over throughout November and December or that I look forward to seeing all of the lights and decorations go up each year. I just don't seem to be that way in real life. The truth is, Christmas has been the most consistent thing in my life over all these years and for this, I have set aside a special place in my heart for all things Christmas.

The earliest memories of Christmas I have are of my father being on the road working and my mother and I spending most of the season alone. There were always lots of presents back then because I was an only child for six years. One year, I remember getting a guitar which I promptly broke. How did I know that tightening up the strings would cause such a catastrophe? I was only about five years old and I really had no idea how to approach the instrument. Needless to say, I never learned how to play.

Just a few years later, when there were a couple of sisters added to the mix, Christmas was always time to visit relatives and eat pies and candies that were brought in by relatives we only saw a few times a year. It was the time when everyone enjoyed being together and things didn't seem quite so complicated.

There were some Christmases when things weren't so great, but I always remember feeling good about this time of year because people made an effort to be together. Whether that came from guilt or holiday spirit didn't matter, the point was that we were together. Now, years later, as everyone has either divorced, moved away or both, it's harder to get together. Members of the family have gotten older, some have strayed from reality, some have just disappeared altogether, some are sick, some have passed away. Though this time of year could be a time of sadness, I can still find contentment in hearing the same old songs each year, watching the same old movies, and looking at the same old lights.

I'm not sure this makes sense to anyone but me, however, I think my point is this: Though families may change or go through difficult times, the fact remains that every year we have the opportunity to make things right again. Actually, every day we have this opportunity but most people don't think of it until the holidays roll around. That's okay. Every little bit helps. Even if there are those whom we can't change, we can still enjoy what the season is about and appreciate that it means something to most everyone.

So, as I sit here in the dark (except for the lights on my Christmas tree), writing this, I hope you can think back on your Christmas experiences and find reasons why this is a great time for just enjoying life and being hopeful. Good things can still happen and most likely will. And if you can't believe that, just turn on your radio and find that station that plays all Christmas music all the time. If that doesn't make you smile, then you're not trying hard enough.

Until next time...


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Anxiously awaiting November...

but not for the reasons you might think. Sure, all of the political crap will be over and we won't have to hear about how terrible Palin is or how inadequate Obama is. We'll have discovered our fate shortly after the first of the month, so we can enjoy the rest of it. What I'm referring to is the release of the new Madagascar movie! I just can't wait to see it. The truly funny thing is that my daughter, who will turn five in November, tells me that she doesn't want to see the movie. Hilarious. She would rather listen to my Lisa Scottoline audiobooks in the car while we're driving to daycare. Could it be that something is wrong with this picture?

It's been a stressful year for everyone. November will be great for lots of reasons. Aside from the election, it will bring the start of the holiday season. It's my favorite time of year. I get to have a birthday party on the 9th for my daughter and then plan for vacation around Thanksgiving, and then start shopping for Christmas. Obama and Palin will be the furthest things from my mind at that point.

We get so caught up in the politics, the economy and all of the crap, that sometimes it seems like there will never be any more fun. November is a time when I can get centered again and remember how much I enjoy seeing my daughter's face light up when she opens her birthday gifts and hearing her rattle off an endless list of things she wants for Christmas. I get to spend more time with family and see people I might not have seen in a while. They tend to come out of the woodwork during the holidays. And then there are the parties. It's just such a happy, festive time.

What are you looking forward to? When it's all said and done, what part of the year makes you the happiest?

Until next time...


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And the merry bells keep ringing...

or so they say. It's the holiday season once again and I find myself feeling happy that they are here, but at the same time plagued by a sense of sadness and uneasiness. I'm not quite sure what is causing my dismay. Things are good. People are doing ok. There have been some ups and downs this year, but for the most part, it was ok.

I guess this feeling might have something to do with watching my little girl get older. Her personality has really started to show over these last few months and I can see for sure that she is truly my little girl. She has the same attitude, the same sense of humor and the same flair for the dramatic. I'm enjoying seeing her figure things out and really grasp how to do things. I'm also dreading watching her go to school in the next couple of years. Luckily, I have an extra year before she starts kindergarten because she is a November baby.

I might also be feeling this way because each Thanksgiving, I visit both of my parents for dinner and I always get to see people that I haven't seen for a while. For some reason, this makes me sad. I'm happy to see friends and family, but it also hurts a little to know that you have no control over the passage of time. Watching some of my relatives grow older is difficult for me. I don't do well with loss and any time I lose someone, I find it very hard to recover. Although we haven't lost anyone this year, the feeling hangs over me like a weight that is ready to drop on my shoulders when I'm not expecting it. It's tough, but like everyone else, I have to deal with the inevitable. At some point, I will lose someone else I care about and there will be nothing that I can do to stop it. Depressing, but what can I say.

Though I love the holidays, I always have this little nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach when it comes time to put up the tree or buy gifts or do anything that is remotely festive. This is my favorite time of year and I am not sure how I can be so happy yet so sad at the same time, but I do it every year. I am hopeful that this will be a great Christmas and that we'll all get to 2008 in one piece. But, in my heart, I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I guess for now, I will have to take some pleasure in listening to my favorite Christmas songs on the radio when I'm out looking for that perfect gift. I'll observe happily as my daughter watches some of my old favorite Christmas cartoons. I'll thank God that I've made it this far and I'll pray that the next year will be even better. For now, I'll turn up that radio and listen as Happy Holidays floats past my ears.

Until next time...