Hello, dear neglected blog!
This past weekend, I went to see Julie & Julia with my mom. Excellent movie; Meryl Streep was outstanding. Uplifting, sweet and funny...except for one thing.
Among the other things that Julie & Julia have in common, their husbands are loving, helpful and supportive. They buy the right gifts at the right time. They say the right things at the right time (most of the time).
I would really love to know how much of this was fictionalized for the movie and how much of it was true. Why? I have seen very little real life evidence that men like this actually exist.
And this, my friends, is why I'm still single. I spent enough time in my dating life settling and I refuse to do it any more. I want a guy who kills the lobsters instead of belittling me for not being able to do it. I want a guy who can buy a meaningful (and note that by this I don't mean expensive) gift instead of replacement blades for my razor (true story). I want a guy who will encourage and celebrate my successes instead of trying to destroy my self-esteem so he can feel more confident.
I know you want to tell me that I actually have to date to find a guy like this, but frankly, I feel my time would be better spent hunting for the mythical unicorn. When I see more evidence that thoughtful, loving, supportive men in my age range actually exist, then perhaps I will give up my dating hiatus.
Until then, I have better things to do.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Buying American Part II
This news brief from Media Post's Marketing Daily confirms what I wrote about buying American:
http://www.mediapost.com/publications/?fa=Articles.showArticle&art_aid=109148.
Don't believe the hype. Check the facts.
http://www.mediapost.com/publications/?fa=Articles.showArticle&art_aid=109148.
Don't believe the hype. Check the facts.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Buying American
It's time for Chevy, Ford and GM to start telling their consumers the truth and stop operating under a double-standard. When you buy a car made by one these three companies, you are NOT "buying American."
In an article in yesterday's Online Media Daily, Les Luchter writes, "Buying a Ford is undoubtedly buying American...". He could not be more wrong.
My grandfather worked for a spring manufacturing company in Northeast Ohio for 67 years. For much of that time, the big three auto-makers were clients of this company, purchasing a variety of springs for the cars they made. Over the last five years or so, the spring company has seen ALL of the business from the Chevy, Ford and GM head overseas to China. The company is on the verge of closing.
I am so sick of Chevy, Ford, and GM and their dealers trying to make us believe that if we are buying one of their cars, we are "buying American." If they want us to, WHY DON'T THEY?
I feel no guilt whatsoever in driving my Honda Civic. It's a quality car and Honda is an economic engine in the state in which I live. In fact, Honda is the sixth largest employer in the state of Ohio.
I've had some people argue with me that I should buy from a so-called "American" car manufacturer because then the profits would stay in this country. Clearly not true, as the money will just be used to buy parts from overseas. Why not send it straight there anyway? Besides, it's not like the CEOs of the big three wouldn't just waste the money on private jets and other nonsense.
If you want to drive a Chevy, Ford or GM because it's a quality vehicle with the features you want at a price you can afford, by all means, please do. Just don't be fooled into thinking you are buying American.
In an article in yesterday's Online Media Daily, Les Luchter writes, "Buying a Ford is undoubtedly buying American...". He could not be more wrong.
My grandfather worked for a spring manufacturing company in Northeast Ohio for 67 years. For much of that time, the big three auto-makers were clients of this company, purchasing a variety of springs for the cars they made. Over the last five years or so, the spring company has seen ALL of the business from the Chevy, Ford and GM head overseas to China. The company is on the verge of closing.
I am so sick of Chevy, Ford, and GM and their dealers trying to make us believe that if we are buying one of their cars, we are "buying American." If they want us to, WHY DON'T THEY?
I feel no guilt whatsoever in driving my Honda Civic. It's a quality car and Honda is an economic engine in the state in which I live. In fact, Honda is the sixth largest employer in the state of Ohio.
I've had some people argue with me that I should buy from a so-called "American" car manufacturer because then the profits would stay in this country. Clearly not true, as the money will just be used to buy parts from overseas. Why not send it straight there anyway? Besides, it's not like the CEOs of the big three wouldn't just waste the money on private jets and other nonsense.
If you want to drive a Chevy, Ford or GM because it's a quality vehicle with the features you want at a price you can afford, by all means, please do. Just don't be fooled into thinking you are buying American.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Showcase 2009
After being MIA for the better part of last week, I thought I'd share a little bit of Showcase 2009 with you.
"Showcase" is our pet name for the International Showcase of Performing Arts for Youth, an annual conference held for artists, agents, presenters, producers and other professionals that are involved with the performing arts for young people. The conference travels to different cities each year, but PlayhouseSquare has hosted every other year for the past six years.
When we are the conference host, my responsibilities include managing the design and printing of mailings and the conference program, promoting the fact that we are offering free tickets to the general public and trying to get media coverage.
I also sit it on some of the professional development sessions to hear what's going on in the field and I attend the shows that will or might come back to PlayhouseSquare another time.
"OK, so what's up with the shows?" you might ask. Good question. "Seeing work" is a big part of the conference. Over the summer, a selection committee reviews submissions from hundreds of artists. 14-16 are selected to present full showcase performances during the conference. The artists are hoping to get booked at theaters like PlayhouseSquare. Theaters like PlayhouseSquare are looking for good shows to book.
Artists that are not showcasing can apply for an abbreviated "spotlight" performance and/or have a booth in the conference exhibit hall.
The Man Who Planted Trees is my favorite Showcase show of all time. We've booked it for our 09-10 season and I hope lots of people come to see it. It's hilarious.
Over all, the conference went well. I survived. And now it's time to get back to normal...whatever that is.
"Showcase" is our pet name for the International Showcase of Performing Arts for Youth, an annual conference held for artists, agents, presenters, producers and other professionals that are involved with the performing arts for young people. The conference travels to different cities each year, but PlayhouseSquare has hosted every other year for the past six years.
When we are the conference host, my responsibilities include managing the design and printing of mailings and the conference program, promoting the fact that we are offering free tickets to the general public and trying to get media coverage.
I also sit it on some of the professional development sessions to hear what's going on in the field and I attend the shows that will or might come back to PlayhouseSquare another time.
"OK, so what's up with the shows?" you might ask. Good question. "Seeing work" is a big part of the conference. Over the summer, a selection committee reviews submissions from hundreds of artists. 14-16 are selected to present full showcase performances during the conference. The artists are hoping to get booked at theaters like PlayhouseSquare. Theaters like PlayhouseSquare are looking for good shows to book.
Artists that are not showcasing can apply for an abbreviated "spotlight" performance and/or have a booth in the conference exhibit hall.
The Man Who Planted Trees is my favorite Showcase show of all time. We've booked it for our 09-10 season and I hope lots of people come to see it. It's hilarious.
Over all, the conference went well. I survived. And now it's time to get back to normal...whatever that is.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Remembering Marty
Today is the one year anniversary of my beloved cat Marty's passing. He was sweet and gentle, and was a champion purrer. He was with me for 16 and 1/2 years, through 10 moves, high school, college, my hellish relationship with my ex-boyfriend and my mom's illness. I don't know what I would have done without him.
From Marty I learned that love can truly be unconditional, that napping is very important, to show excitement when someone you love comes home, to show affection, and to try not to be grumpy even when you're not feeling well.
Marty had quite the personality. He loved to talk to his Auntie on the phone, and when you picked him up, he would give your neck a squeeze with his paw. Sitting or sleeping on the floor was beneath him; the only exception was a snooze under the Christmas tree when the lights were on. He preferred to sleep on my bed, my purple chair or the couch. And he felt that the couch was just a bit small to have to share - I guess he thought he was the size of tiger!
In his lifetime, he threw three TVs on the floor, killed a number of crickets and one praying mantis...and was loved by everyone who met him.
Even though I have two sweet new furry faces to come home to, I will always miss Marty. He truly was the best cat ever.
From Marty I learned that love can truly be unconditional, that napping is very important, to show excitement when someone you love comes home, to show affection, and to try not to be grumpy even when you're not feeling well.
Marty had quite the personality. He loved to talk to his Auntie on the phone, and when you picked him up, he would give your neck a squeeze with his paw. Sitting or sleeping on the floor was beneath him; the only exception was a snooze under the Christmas tree when the lights were on. He preferred to sleep on my bed, my purple chair or the couch. And he felt that the couch was just a bit small to have to share - I guess he thought he was the size of tiger!
In his lifetime, he threw three TVs on the floor, killed a number of crickets and one praying mantis...and was loved by everyone who met him.
Even though I have two sweet new furry faces to come home to, I will always miss Marty. He truly was the best cat ever.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
On the Road with My Dad
My dad is a retired truck driver. Toward the end of his career, he drove over-the-road, but for more than 20 years he delivered supplies to hospitals across Northeast Ohio. He took great pride in his work and won a number of safe-driving awards. To this day, I know what the terms bobtailing, jack-knifing, and cab-over mean, and I knew the rules of driving safely around semis well before I was old enough to apply for my temps.
One summer, when I was 5 or 6, my dad asked if I'd like to go to work with him one day. He didn't have to ask twice! I could hardly wait for the day to arrive. It was one of the few times (aside from Christmas) that I have ever awoken eagerly in the morning. I am not a morning person.
My dad had given me a company t-shirt, navy blue to match his uniform polo, though I wore shorts and tennis shoes to his navy pants and steel-toed boots. The night before, my mom had packed lunches for both of us.
During our commute to the warehouse to pick up his truck, my dad told me what to expect for the day. I already had a pretty good idea because I enjoyed hearing his stories about work and always asked lots of questions. I was looking forward to meeting Pat and Tony, two of his fellow drivers and long-time co-workers, and luckily, it was a beautiful, not-too-hot, sunny day. Perfect for a day on the road.
When we arrived, my dad introduced me to the office staff and the secretary gave me a donut. I munched as we walked through the warehouse, keeping a careful eye out for the cherry-pickers as my dad had warned me.
As we approached the truck, I proudly noticed that my dad's first name was displayed in black, capital letters under the driver's side window of the cab. Pat and Tony had their names on their cabs as well; other drivers who had not been there as long or did not drive regular routes were not given this honor.
After a thorough safety inspection, we were off in the bright white cab with its matching trailer. It was exciting to bounce down the road in such a big vehicle, so high above everyone else's heads. I was amazed to see how my dad manuevered the huge truck along city streets, down the highway and in reverse to back up to the docks.
I have always felt proud of my dad for delivering hospital supplies, things so necessary and important for doctors to use in healing the injured and sick. We probably made 8-10 deliveries that day. I was permitted to stand on the dock and watch the truck being unloaded wherever this task was not accomplished by cherry-pickers. Occassionally I got to hold the clipboard with all of the paperwork that needed to be signed. I felt proud to be "working" with my dad, and I was glad to discover that he encountered many friendly people during the day. All of the dock workers I met were kind and seemed happy to meet me.
My favorite stop was the one that had a cat in residence on the dock. I have a feeling that we stayed longer than necessary so I'd have a chance to meet her;-)
At lunch, we parked the truck under a bridge and ate in the cab. I knew that when I wasn't there, my dad read or did crossword puzzles - in pen, of course - during his lunch. He showed me what all of the different gauges and panel instruments were for, and patiently answered all of my questions.
All deliveries completed, we headed back to the warehouse where the truck would be cleaned and loaded with supplies to be delivered the following day.
I wish I'd had the chance to ride along with my dad again when I was older, and would have been able to remember more. Company policy changed by the time I'd thought to ask and ride-alongs were no longer permitted.
My ride along with my dad was a day I'll never forget. Not only did I have fun, but it was comforting to see first-hand what he did all day. As he talked about work on other occassions, I was able to picture in my mind just what he was talking about.
Hats off to all the truckers out there.
One summer, when I was 5 or 6, my dad asked if I'd like to go to work with him one day. He didn't have to ask twice! I could hardly wait for the day to arrive. It was one of the few times (aside from Christmas) that I have ever awoken eagerly in the morning. I am not a morning person.
My dad had given me a company t-shirt, navy blue to match his uniform polo, though I wore shorts and tennis shoes to his navy pants and steel-toed boots. The night before, my mom had packed lunches for both of us.
During our commute to the warehouse to pick up his truck, my dad told me what to expect for the day. I already had a pretty good idea because I enjoyed hearing his stories about work and always asked lots of questions. I was looking forward to meeting Pat and Tony, two of his fellow drivers and long-time co-workers, and luckily, it was a beautiful, not-too-hot, sunny day. Perfect for a day on the road.
When we arrived, my dad introduced me to the office staff and the secretary gave me a donut. I munched as we walked through the warehouse, keeping a careful eye out for the cherry-pickers as my dad had warned me.
As we approached the truck, I proudly noticed that my dad's first name was displayed in black, capital letters under the driver's side window of the cab. Pat and Tony had their names on their cabs as well; other drivers who had not been there as long or did not drive regular routes were not given this honor.
After a thorough safety inspection, we were off in the bright white cab with its matching trailer. It was exciting to bounce down the road in such a big vehicle, so high above everyone else's heads. I was amazed to see how my dad manuevered the huge truck along city streets, down the highway and in reverse to back up to the docks.
I have always felt proud of my dad for delivering hospital supplies, things so necessary and important for doctors to use in healing the injured and sick. We probably made 8-10 deliveries that day. I was permitted to stand on the dock and watch the truck being unloaded wherever this task was not accomplished by cherry-pickers. Occassionally I got to hold the clipboard with all of the paperwork that needed to be signed. I felt proud to be "working" with my dad, and I was glad to discover that he encountered many friendly people during the day. All of the dock workers I met were kind and seemed happy to meet me.
My favorite stop was the one that had a cat in residence on the dock. I have a feeling that we stayed longer than necessary so I'd have a chance to meet her;-)
At lunch, we parked the truck under a bridge and ate in the cab. I knew that when I wasn't there, my dad read or did crossword puzzles - in pen, of course - during his lunch. He showed me what all of the different gauges and panel instruments were for, and patiently answered all of my questions.
All deliveries completed, we headed back to the warehouse where the truck would be cleaned and loaded with supplies to be delivered the following day.
I wish I'd had the chance to ride along with my dad again when I was older, and would have been able to remember more. Company policy changed by the time I'd thought to ask and ride-alongs were no longer permitted.
My ride along with my dad was a day I'll never forget. Not only did I have fun, but it was comforting to see first-hand what he did all day. As he talked about work on other occassions, I was able to picture in my mind just what he was talking about.
Hats off to all the truckers out there.
Monday, December 15, 2008
A Sister for Jack
On Friday, my cat Jack got a new sister. She's a very sweet, pretty calico named Snickers. She was hanging around my friend's house, desperate to come in from the cold. After receiving a relatively clean bill of health from the vet, Snickers came home with me to meet Jack.
It's clear that Jack would have preferred a different Christmas present, but so far there have been no major fireworks. Just a few hisses here and there. Snickers hangs out mostly in my room while Jack has the run of the apartment. He does allow her to come into the living room but prefers that she not get too much attention from me...at least for right now.
I'm hopeful that they will become buddies, or at least tolerant enough of each other to co-exist in peace. And I hope it happens soon because I need some more sleep!
It's clear that Jack would have preferred a different Christmas present, but so far there have been no major fireworks. Just a few hisses here and there. Snickers hangs out mostly in my room while Jack has the run of the apartment. He does allow her to come into the living room but prefers that she not get too much attention from me...at least for right now.
I'm hopeful that they will become buddies, or at least tolerant enough of each other to co-exist in peace. And I hope it happens soon because I need some more sleep!
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