BufBloPoFo 09 DayTwo

If you had the power to put together the most perfect, end-of-the-universe, nothing-better-was-ever-made repast, using whatever ingredients you want, and with whomever you’d like as your co-diners, what would you want? Tell me about one little bit, or all fourteen courses. Tell me about venue, about background music, about which box of wine goes best with which flavor of ramen noodles.

I have invited two temporarily resurrected men, Tim Russert and Jesus, to my place for dinner. Joining the three of us will be one person who remains of this world, Madonna. I have offerred to prepare a zesty vegetable lasagna from scratch. I have chosen a veggie meal because Jesus and Madonna are both Jews, and I do not keep a kosher kitchen. I understood from Tim Russert's waistline while alive that he is not a picky eater. I set three plates at the bar in my kitchen, and pour three glasses of red wine. Madonna only sips gingerly at hers, requesting a bottle of Kabbalah water alongside her plate. Tim Russert and Jesus start sucking it down. We all know Jesus was a pretty fun wedding guest. Tim Russert came from a blue collar Irish background. 'Nough said. I keep a plate for myself on the side. I will eat (and drink later). I do not want to be distracted or compromised whatsoever as we begin our discussion.

Wine has reddened the cheeks of Tim Russert and so he introduces a lively debate on the current economic crisis. Russert heatedly lays the blame at the feet of George W. Bush, though he does admit that the U.S. had been a little too lax about a lot of things in the last twenty years. Jesus is of the opinion that he sort of likes Obama's Robin Hood approach to his most recent budget plan. However, realizing he may have said too much, Jesus grows a little sheepish. The son of God ought not to appear to pick sides, he says, so can we all keep what he said under our hats? It's not exactly a lie, and thus we wouldn't really be breaking any commandments. I tell Jesus to relax and poor him another glass. Madonna, who charges $200 or more to see one of her shows, apparently doesn't realize there is a recession at all. Nevetheless, Jesus is always one to find a silver lining, and though he encourages the Material Girl to get to know some of the "little people," he nonetheless commends Madge on the adoption of the formerly impoverished David Banda.

As we move toward the dessert course, a homemade banana bread pudding (in this fantasy, I have miraculously learned how to cook. Perhaps the divine intervention of Jesus?), the discussion moves to the subject of children. Jesus, just like Michael Jackson a couple millenniums later, obviously loves them (However, He pointedly resents the Gloved One's use of "Jesus Juice" to calm them down - J endorses no such product), but immediately lets us know not to believe everything we read. The Da Vinci Code is just a work of fiction and there were no Jesus Juniors. I can barely mask my disappointment. Tim Russert, by now a little intoxicated, grows misty eyed at the thought of his now adult son Luke. I show him a clip of Luke working on behalf of NBC news during the McCain/Obama debates and he is done for. Madonna has three children from three different fathers (fine, the last one was adopted). Jesus knows it's 2009 and doesn't want to come off as a prude, so he stays quiet during Madonna's confessional.

Tim Russert can barely stand by the time we finish our meal. Jesus tells us the coolest thing about being the Son of God is his immunity to basically, well, everything. He hoists Tim up on his shoulder so they can begin the walk back to heaven. Surprisingly, it's not that far. Madonna has a chopper on top of my roof and will fly off with her boy toy, 22 year-old Jesus Luz. She realizes the irony of sleeping with a pretty young thing that bears the name of the Chosen One, and accepts that as further proof that her bed hopping is indeed all part of God's plan.

BufBloPoFo 09 DayOne

For your first day of Blufporbfofoing, tell me the three biggest things going on in your life right now.

Well I can't forget the first one because he is sleeping not 20 feet away from me, so I am trying to keep it down. I am a hard and fast two finger hunt and peck typer. Pretty odd for a person with a Master's in English Lit. I know. Anyway, my husband and the continued drama and uncertainty following his career path in 2009 is #1. Will he find a permanent job? Will it allow him to remain at home? We continue to be on pins and needles.

The second biggest thing going on in my world is decidedly less stressful. I am going to Tel Aviv, Israel from the 16th of April, returning the 26th. I am visiting my very good friend Bobby who moved to Israel five years back. He wanted to be closer to his spirtual roots as he grew older, and fell in love with a wonderful Israeli man named Moish. I had long promised I would make it over there, but when I was in grad school, there was no time, and afterward, no money. But this year, I can finally make good. In addition to looking forward to nine days with one of my best friends, Israel is teeming with religious and cultural history. I am a nerd at heart and this factor alone sets my blood pumping.

I had to stop and think pretty hard about the third biggest thing revving me up these days, because #1 and #2 admittedly soak up a lot of my free thinking hours. But I think, if I am being honest, the third biggest thing happening is me. 2009 has so far been one of transition in myself. I have broken out of a lot of old ruts, tried new things I have only talked about doing in the past (like blogging, or taking the online Jeopardy! test). With the help of a great therapist I have been seeing for the last six months, I have become nearly zen-like in my ability to adapt and cope with challenges. For anyone who knows me, this is especially astounding, as I have always been known as a German/Italian hothead through and through. I kind of like this calm new me who is not afraid to take risks, think outside the box and go after what she wants. I have been more honest with myself and pursued that which I desire, with the result that I think I have become far more bearable to those around me.

BUFBLOPOFO 2009

This is the busiest time of the year for me in the office, and Lord knows I have had my hands full at home, especially with my husband away. So I don't know quite what I was thinking when I signed up to do this, but I always like a new challenge, and as I have heard said, if you want something done, give it to a busy person.

I have a friend, Mike Garvey, who lives in Buffalo, and is a fellow blogger. For the last two years, he has sponsored a sort of writing contest. Basically, every day for the next 14, Garvey will choose a topic and all of us participants have accepted the challenge to write a reponse to the prompt on our respective blogs. That is right my friends, every day for the next two weeks, you will be treated to a new treatise from me. I call us particpants, rather than contestants, because there is really no prize at the end except the satisfaction of having committed and made it out the other side. For more on the rules and details, please visit Garvey's blog:

http://royaltoybox.blogspot.com/

The fun starts tomorrow, March 14th, and I am counting heavily on your moral support. Let the games begin!

Embarassment of Riches

Those who know me know I am quite humble about what I do for a living. Part of it comes from the reality of being one of the lower most rungs in the radio personality totem pole (nothing to brag about there!) . Part of it, I recently came to realize is a feeling not unlike embarassment.

The discovery came late last week when my bro-in-law (who we all know as the Denver-travelling love of my beloved sister's life) treated me to lunch before "work". You will understand the use of quotes later. After our noshing, I offered him a tour of the studios I work out of. It was his first time ever seeing such a thing, and I gotta say the look on his face was much like that of a wide eyed child seeing an amusement park for the first time. He was in awe of all of the technology. After a turn on the green screen we huddled in my broadcast booth for a quick tutorial on all things Jennifer Roberts. Yes, I have an alias. I am that cool.

I opened up the PC, logged onto the appropriate screens and within about 5 minutes he had the rundown. See why I said quick? It only took me that short amout of time to lay out what I do. It wasn't "in a nutshell" it was the whole kit and kaboodle (who says that anymore?) and it took probably less than the aforementioned 5 minutes. He stayed for a few reports and when he asked what I did for the other 56 minutes of each hour that I wasn't actually on the air I told the truth; I search the web. That's my "work".

Surfing the web gets me up to speed on all things pop culture and often leads to topics of discussion on the air with or with out me participating. I help one of the hosts I work with find stuff to talk about. But really, I would be doing that anyway as a self-titled gossip column junkie. I felt so guilty! This man has been spending more time looking for a new job after getting laid off a few months back that I have actually spent working probably all year! That guilt led to a discussion with hubby about the guilt and the guilt I had for feeling guilty.....

The point of all of this is not to be self-indulgent..."look at poor little me with nothing to do, getting paid for it, blah blah blah" but rather to shout it out that I am L-U-C-K-Y! Not a whole lot of other folks get the chance to feel guilty about getting paid to have fun. It has been like a dirty little secret I liked to keep to myself, except now my B-I-L saw it with his own eyes and now the cat is out of the bag. In a world of bad news, its my piece of good.

Lonesome Dove

It's day two of my new weekday life without Eddie. I mentioned that we have done this before, so I saw him off early yesterday morning without tears (not sure if I am capable of them at 4:15 AM anyway). I am bound and determined to make our time apart productive and as fulfilling as possible. I have my nose to the grindstone at the office and do my best to fill my evenings with work around the house, my regular gym schedule and other sundry activities. For the most part, I am so active and diligent in my attempts to distract myself, I forget that I am actually alone. The only two circumstances when I cannot ignore that weird feeling that something is missing are the bookends to my day.

My husband is noise incarnate. He talks, he snorts, he snores, he sings (loudly). Those of you acquainted with him know just what I am talking about. Eddie has a life force about him that I have often wished to emulate, but have been unable to duplicate. It's just impossible to remain ignorant of his presence. So it was as I got dressed for work yesterday morning that I wondered about the eerie quiet. When Eddie was unemployed, he wasn't even awake at that time, so why did I feel so alone? I realized that even my husband's sleeping noises carry a weight and comfort for me. His tossing and turning, coughing and heavy breathing became as much a part of my morning routine as did wrapping my scarf around my neck before walking out the door.

When I came home from the office for the day, I found myself calling out to him from the front door out of habit. I somehow hoped he'd stick his head out of our office door to bellow the familiar, "Hello Pumpkin!" There are so many instances where I have found the attention grabbing and scene stealing powers of my husband to be annoying, but once they are missing from my everyday, I realize that I am nothing without my larger than life better half.

There are many couples in far more dire straits than us, and I only need to keep this up for four to six months. It will get easier each week. The human being's ability to adapt to change is really quite remarkable, no matter how we may resist new scenarios at times. It's sort of tough though when the person you most want to discuss these ideas with is the one person you just can't see.

My End or Yours?

DOES THE "GUT FEELING" EXIST, AND IF SO, IS IT RELIABLE?

Becky Boop: Yes and Yes

My husband has told me before that he relies on my sixth sense even more than he trusts his own logic and intellectual capacities. Scoff if you will, but Jen and I have both always believed ourselves to be a little bit psychic. If you were to ask our mother, or her mother before her, they would tell you of their own long histories of small little dreams that came to fruition, little feelings that ultimately led to major life changes, etc. Now I am not claiming that Jen and I are regular mediums who should take jobs with the police department hunting down serial killers, but I firmly believe that these inklings are real and should be trusted.

Let me give you an example of a time I ignored my instincts. In early 2007, in my giddiness at being a newly engaged woman, I agreed to give up my beautiful rented coach house in the City and move with my fiancé to a suburb near the airport. For both financial and logistical reasons at the time, this seemed to make good sense. But every fiber of my being was screaming that I would live to regret the choice, not only because as we have seen, I am the ultimate City Chick. No, my gut told me that this move would be bad for both Eddie and I, and yet I went, ready to go with any flow as far as my soon-to-be-hubby was concerned.

One year of solo isolation, a smashed car (some doofus lost control of their car in the building lot and wrecked our vehicle), a tornado, floods and several snowstorms later, it was clear that I had made a fool of my own intuition. Since relocating to the City, our luck has improved considerably, job loss or no, and I believe my karma has been corrected with doing what I should have done all along.

I have other personal reasons for putting this topic out there, and concluding that the story of my own intuition may not be fully written. Sorry to be cryptic, but this is as much as I am willing to give up right now. I don't want to jinx anything. Yes, I am one superstitious girl.

Jen of All Trades: Yes and no

I definitely agree that people tend to have a sixth sense about certain things. The saying "go with your gut" is often/over used in just about every arena: real life, movie lines, the boadroom, etc. BUT - there are a lot of idiots in the world who can't decide which cereal to eat in the morning, let alone trust their inner voice to make a major life decision.

This "gut feeling" is reserved for the logical, dare I say gifted ones who really can push aside emotion, other's opinions, or additional outside factors to have that moment of clarity that leads you to the path best choosen. With that, you also have to take into account the whole "everything happens for a reason" phrase that has become my mantra. The truth is, not every decision is a good one, but it ALWAYS leads to the next thing and the one after, etc. and somewhere down the line you get where you need to be. Without those botched scenarios that inevitably will happen, you would be at that moment where you are truly content with whatever the issue it.

In conclusion (another of the many overused lines), definitely go with your gut but know that it may not always be right. It might just be the shrimp toast you chose to have for dinner. Afterall, food poisoning is baaaad but it leads to the very wise decision to never eating at Phoenix EVER AGAIN! (4 years later, I can still remember that awful feeling....)

Mixed Blessings

Hubby got a job. A job with Comcast. It's a 4-6 month contract-to-hire position. That's not exactly longterm security, but in this economy...well I don't need to tell any of you. It also pays darned good money, enough so that we can sock away a bit more while bracing for another possible hunt over the summer. But, though this is exactly what I've prayed would happen, as with any boon, there is always a catch. Eddie will have to travel back and forth to Denver, Colorado every week from Monday at 4AM, until Friday night at 11 or midnight. That's going to be rough on him personally, and hell on our marriage in terms of time spent together. Believe me, this is no whine. We need this, and most critically, Eddie needs this. But I will miss him terribly.

We've done this before. In the 6 months leading up to our wedding in Raipur, India, Eddie was away each week on a project in Phoenix. We lived almost next door to O'Hare at that time, and he always returned on Thursday night. This was rough, especially on a bride to be, but back then he slept at home more nights than he was away.

The first 7 months of our marriage, Eddie was away in Red Bank, New Jersey, and I again held down the fort at home. The one thing that rendered this bearable to a newlywed wife was that I got him to agree that we'd move back to the City, pronto. It did make things slightly harder on him in terms of getting to the airport and back, but thankfully that was a sacrifice he was willing to make for my sanity. What really killed us both with this project were the 16-18 hour days Eddie put in as a leader of the team. More often than not, this work schedule was in effect even on Saturday and Sunday. One week, he just didn't come home at all. Comcast at least states that they keep a pretty regular 9-5, Monday-Friday routine (and judging from the crap service I receive as one of their customers, I can attest to their immovability on that front), so I am keeping in mind that my sadness over the imminent disruption to our homelife can only pale in comparison to the trials we endured in 2008.

The field that Eddie has chosen for his career definitely lends itself to high earning potential. But it also comes with risks. One of those is volatility. The work is usually temporary, which creates a lot of opportunity to try new things and see new faces. But as I have seen throughout the worst of this economic downturn, that benefit of change can quickly turn to a disadvantage when you are a temp worker and payrolls are being sliced. There are no unemployment insurance benefits to collect. There's no real way of knowing when your next paycheck is coming, even if you saved during your employed period.

But as a wife who genuinely and truly adores her husband (Jen and I have that in common), I can tell you that money means nothing when you have to look at your husband's face after he returns home from months of living in hotel rooms and rental cars, working like a dog, just so he can give you the financial security he thinks you deserve. You just want to grab his weary body and never let him walk back out the door. I am proud of him. The job he has landed is nothing but wonderful, especially when you consider the many other people out there who are forced to make tougher choices than these everyday. But I can't lie to myself. It won't be so easy.