Pulled from the archives of a previous blog. Originally posted June 29, 2005
I am a woman without wind in her sails.
I went to a public relations conference with my best friend yesterday and though most of it was so boring that I wanted to stick hot forks in my eyes, there was one session that rocked. It was engaging, exciting and informative.
And it made me want to become a professional-type career womanyish person.
And it made me feel small and insignificant.
And I didn’t want to go home.
I need to focus and figure out my plan. I told hubby last night that I didn’t necesarrily want to go get a job, but I wanted to WORK. And I want to start going to little workshops or seminars or something. And in 6 to 8 weeks I think my little man will bet heading off to pre- pre- pre- preschool. Otherwise known as Mother’s Day Out. For one sacred day a week where I will go there and then go work. At a coffee shop or home or the library or somewhere. No grocery shopping, no home improving or cleaning, no doctor’s appointments. Just writing or planning. And NO FICTION. Just writing for money.
MU-HU-HU-NEY. All about the benjamins. 😉
Just thinking out loud…I mean, on paper…I mean, on keyboard.
Funny side note… our opening speaker yesterday was a funny man named Frosty Troy, who has been an investigative journalist almost longer than my dad has been alive. He coughed a few times toward the end of his speech and someone realized that he had no water to sip. A woman hurriedly got him a cup of water and as she approached the podium he looked at her and said,
Pulled from the archives of a previous blog. Originally published May 24, 2008.
Wanna know how to get a fast-track to a new friend? Poland.
It worked for me.
Before we left for this Polish adventure I knew that I would probably get along okay with Megan. Not great, but okay. Who knew that once we got over there we would discover that we were practically the same person with the major differences of:
She plays soccer.
I can drink her under the table.
She reads way, way more.
Traveling for a month with women can be a little difficult. And by difficult, I mean it is like crawling naked for thirty miles across a field of rock salt that is wedged perfectly under a thunderstorm of elephants hovering in the sky 8 inches above your crouched, sweaty body. Of course I don’t mean that. Of course not.
It is worse.
The elephants are schizophrenic and have diarrhea and the salt is laced with poison ivy. And scabies.
The gleeming treasure in the whole experience is that sometime in that first week I realized that I had a soul sister among us. I was getting along with everyone nicely and them with me, but at some point Megan and I realized the magic. Actually, I realized the magic in Mikov when we went back to the flat to have a nap. It is awkward sharing a bed with someone you don’t know that well, but you can do it in the dark at night without much trouble. Exhaustion gives way to weirdness and it all works out. But there we were, crawling into bed together in broad daylight for an unexpected opportunity to nap.
Sheri: Please don’t spoon me.
Megan: ::::spoons Sheri:::::
Sheri: “And I can’t fight this feeling anymore…”
Megan: “I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for…”
Sheri: “It’s time to bring this ship into the shore…”
UNISON: “And throw away the oars, FOREVER!”
That clinched it. We eventually fell asleep, but not before laughing hysterically for 20 minutes.
As the month wore on we experienced Poland in all its glory (not sarcastic) and there’s an upcoming post about Poland as a country and experience. Trust me. But there’s another facet of my trip across the pond and it is of finding a friend in surprising circumstances. That is this story. This is that story. Meg-aaan rocks. How do I know for sure that she rocks?
When we were halfway through our trip we had to carefully consider our luggage. We were traveling too heavy and there were rumors that if we were over a certain amount at the Lviv, Ukraine airport that Bad Things Would Happen. Terrible overcharges and possibly random assasinations of character. And scabies.
So she and I are sitting at our hotel in Krakow having breakfast (tomatoes, anyone?) and talking about what we are ditching in Lviv to save space and weight. The subject of our red blazers came up. They are our uniform and we were already resenting their very existence. Plus, the coats were heavy. We spoke of burning them.
Then I had an idea.
Capes. We would fashion capes from them. With cuffs. We simultaneously made jazz hands and the bond between M and S grew stronger. Two weeks later:
With 2 inch scissors and a pair of nail clippers, we became superheros.
Sorry for the fuzzy. Apparently Ukraine is so deficient as a country that the the air zaps the ability for cameras to focus properly. Luckily, another team member shot this little gem:
And then this one:
And that’s how I knew we’d be friends outside of Poland. Blazer capes.