Thursday, January 17, 2008

The Bitterest Pill

In my haste last night to put down my pseudo S&M experience with the cute DO, I forgot to mention that I have been listening to Dan Klass's The Bitterest Pill podcast for the past week, non-stop. I discovered "Pill" soon after buying an iPod and enjoyed it until he recommended another podcast, Cush's Things I Say. I got hooked on Cush and left Dan behind, until now.

Both are talented writers and speakers. I can sit here in my (home) office and enjoy as the mellifluous sounds wash over me.

But, Cush's posts started getting farther apart and I stopped listening. Then I remembered Dan. Now, in all fairness, the thing that drove me away initially, was the squeaky-clean family nature of the show. Where Cush would speak of getting laid or getting into fights, Dan talks about trips to Target and running into "Pilates bodies" and Japanese stewardesses and lusting in his heart, a la President Jimmy Carter.


Klass, I'm back. I'm sorry for the break. In the last week or so, I have spent all of 2007 with you. I especially enjoyed episode #99, which I think is posted on his web site under March 2007. You can find his stuff on the web or on iTunes. Here's a link to the web site:


http://www.thebitterestpill.com/ and I think you can just listen to that one story here:

http://danklass.com/pill/?p=387

This post is especially important for anyone over the age of 40 who works in a corporate environment. Spend some time with it and you will understand why you need to "Get a Thing of Your Own". Damn. It was like he was talking right to me. Oh, right, he was.

Give a listen, subscribe, whatever. But get working on your "Thing", whatever that might be.

I'll see you soon,

Joe

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Short excuses

Yes. Christ, yes. I've done it again. My "normal" days got in the way of me writing to you (and only you. YOU know that, don't you?). Ah, but what is normal these days?

My bathroom is torn apart and we juggle the numerous lotions, potions and pastes out of the tiny master bath. Um, I think the correct term for this room should be "mistress" bath because I don't get to use it much. See honey? You DO have your own room! Anyway, I refer to it as "the spa" thanks to the teak shower mats from Brookstone. And I always ask permission before using "her" room.

The "boys" room is torn apart, thanks to a leaky bathtub that must be as old as the house. After a week of demolition, much dust and few cups of java with friend Jerry, it's almost complete. BTW, he does a good job and if you live in the Nashua area, look him up for this type of work. Just email me and I'll pass it along. So, the bathroom project coincided with yet another snow storm here. I took off 1.5 days to lend a hand, tote that barge, smoke that bale. With all that free time, I tried to cram in every personal appointment in the one full day. I'm beat!

Work is nuts and it seems to be that way for everyone else there, too. Something is afoot and I've heard rumor of an acquisition of a competitor. To pave the way for that, management has been pushing a few folks out the door. Others are parachuting (not in the "golden" sense) to safety. Me, I need help. I'm torn between my financial reality and a desire to do more interesting work. Some days I just feel like I am digging to China. I know that if I just stopped long enough to listen to my inner voice, I would be able to make sense of this odd assortment of skills & experience.

Ampersand apologies. I didn't sleep well last night (you did read the above paragraph, right?) and I am tired and taking short-cuts.

I wish I had time to take all of the constructive criticism I've rec'd on these missives and put it to good use. That would mean taking time and since I can barely keep up, well........So, I'll bump along. I'm afraid to wish for more time to write because we all know how THAT will come out.

Does this happen to you? I type "good" and get "god". And it pisses me off every time. Because I'm not religious and I know it's just my clumsy fingers at work and not the hand of God. Because I am sure She can type better than me.

I had a point to all of this, really. What I wanted to tell you about was my experience yesterday at the doctor's office. Remember when I stayed out last week to help on the bathroom and tried to schedule all of my personal junk in one day? The doctor's office called and rescheduled me for yesterday. In the interest of FULL DISCLOSURE, I've already shared this story with my wife. So, there!

My back has been bothering me for over a month. I mostly attribute that to age but this was a weird pain that caused a dull ache in my upper back, when I took a deep breath. I put up with it and only occasionally complained about it. You know, like every time I took a deep breath. And the pain appeared at about the same time that my upper back started to make these loud cracking noises when I stretched. So, I didn't really think there was a large tumor growing on the inside of my rib cage and pressing in on my lungs. Just only once in a while.

It turns out that my sporty new physician is an Osteopath and SHE was recommended in case I needed "an adjustment". I need a serious adjustment but that will take longer than an hour visit. (The chicken's the "special" today. Can I get a cup of psychotherapy on the side?) Now I have to describe her in detail. First, she seems really cool. Like "Hey, man, I went to Med school and know a bunch of shit." She is smart, cute, funny, engaging, petite. She's small. Man, she's tiny.

So, after all of the pleasantries, history, etc., she asks me to remove my shirt and lie on the table. Now I think she had a step-stool or ladder because, in one swift movement, she's up on the table straddling me. I'm not normally shy but, she had me in a clinch, her arms around my back and she trying to "crack" my back. She's up there on my chest, like a crazed Elfin mountaineer looking for purchase. To no avail. So, what does she do? She rolls me over. Or rather, she asks Shamu here to roll over.

And here we go again, she goes from standing beside me to practically sitting on me, trying to get my muscles to loosen up. Hey, I don't mind a little huggin' and a-squeezin' now and then! In the end, I think she got the muscle a little looser but I got the impression she was a bit disappointed that she did not get the results she wanted.

So, what does one tip for that???