Taking Baths

The other night Connor and I went out to dinner with my friend Jacque who has known me since we were wee tots. We got onto the subject of my bath taking habit. Most of you probably know (and by 'most' I mean the four people who read this blog who also happen to be related to me) that I don't take showers unless necessary. So literally, every morning, I wake up about 30 to 40 minutes earlier than necessary, I make a small pot of coffee, pour myself a mug and drink it...in the bathtub...at five forty-five in the morning. Is that weird? When I get freaked out, I take a bath. When I'm sad, I take a bath. When I'm bored, I smoke crack and troll the neighborhood for my next trick and then I take a bath. Jacque said she had no idea that I took ONLY baths. How did this all start you ask? What's that? You didn't ask? We'll TOO BAD, you are my family and you will keep reading!

When I was growing up I shared a room with my sister who is a little under a year older than I am. It was really difficult for either of us to have any sort of privacy. There were two phones in our home, one was downstairs in the kitchen and the other was upstairs in my parent's room. I quickly realized it was impossible to talk about anything I wanted to keep private on the phone downstairs. My mother would always be listening. She would spray 409 on the kitchen counter and wipe it down. She'd repeat this process the entire time I was on the phone. Sometimes, she would even be so bold as to make random interjections into the conversation. Other times she would forget her cleaning ruse all together and just stare at me as I talked on the phone, motionless, wash cloth suspended in the air with one hand and the 409 bottle in the other. I couldn't work under those conditions. So, I took my plan making action to the tub. I'd drag the phone from my parent's room into the bathroom and sit it next to the tub. When someone would call for me, I'd hang my head out of the tub and make plans. If you knew me in high school and we spoke on the phone there is a 90% chance it was from my bathtub. Although this tactic proved to work better than talking on the downstairs phone, it was far from fail proof. There would be times when someone would call for my sister, brother or parents. Then I'd have to get out of the tub, wrap a towel around me, run to the top of the stairs and scream "PHOOOOOOOONNNNEEE!" as I dripped water all over the floor. Not only did I make plans on the phone from the tub, I started receiving guests from there as well. When my friends would come over my dad would point upstairs and say, "She's in her office." They'd knock on the bathroom door and announce themselves. I'd close the bathtub curtain and tell them to come in. They'd walk into the bathroom, step over the phone and sit on the toilette across from the tub. Sometimes they'd sit on that toilette for ten minutes and then I'd get out and other times I'd be in there for an hour. There were even times when the entire visit was nothing but me being in the tub and them talking to me from the toilette and then they'd leave.

That is how my bath taking habits began and I'd like to say that a lot has changed in this respect but I'd be a big fat liar. In fact, I started school this past June and my bath time increased three fold because I find I do my best studying in there. I STILL talk to the same friends from the tub that I did growing up, now it's just on my cell phone. I am Deidre Daly, and I take baths. Just reason one million eight hundred eighty four that I have issues.

Superpowers

I was just thinking the other day of how cool superpowers are and how useful it would be to have one. But then, upon further reflection, I realized that there are a couple of superpowers out there which I actually wouldn't want. Here are some of them:

1. Wonder Twins' superpowers

Please tell me some of you remember these two clowns? Twin boy and girl, boy can turn into any form of water (yes, that says water) and the girl can turn into any form of animal. The only way they can activate their powers is by touching hands and announcing together "Twin Powers activate!" Then separately they each state "Form of...." and they say what they are turning into. I think we can all agree that once you announce what you are going to do, it instantly makes it less cool. It would be like Superman stating "I am going to fly now." every time he flew. It would get awkward and people would be annoyed. And seriously, I want to meet the genius who thought that turning into a form of water was a good idea. Someone was paid to come up with that crap. "Oh, well, you better watch out, or I'll ah, make a puddle at your feet. And then whatcha gonna do punk? Huh? HUH? Oh wait, where's my sister?" I remember getting hives watching these two because I was embarrassed for them. I was 8. If you know something is not cool when you are 8, it's clearly not cool.

2. Aquaman's superpowers

Did anyone really care about him? I just remember all these superheroes doing all these cool things, flying on their own or in their invisible jet, running at the speed of light and making large explosions and then this dude dashing to the nearest waterbody. "I'll warn the fish!" Ah. Gee thanks Aquaman, that's really awesome. Honestly, I don't even think the other superheroes cared about him. They just felt bad for him because they knew he had a lame superpower. Did Aquaman ever really save the day? I don't think so. They would show some crazy fight or chase scene and then pan back to Aquaman, still swimming real fast like with weird sound waves coming off of him. Thanks Aquaman.

3. Robin's superpowers

Enough said.

4. The Incredible Hulk's superpowers

If my super power was that I got big and green every time I was angry, I would be so pissed (and then I'd get big and green). Seriously though, what a horrible super power that would be. Imagine talking to your boss with Hulk superpowers:

You: "No, I'm not upset that I didn't get a bigger raise."
Boss: "Really? Are you sure? I just hope you understand the position our company is in."
You: "Yes. I am totally fine, I completely understand. What kind of jerk would I be if I was upset about not getting a larger raise when you have had to fire forty percent of the company? You know me, I'm just not that person."
Boss: "OH thank you for understanding! I'm so glad to hear...."

You start to turn green.

Boss: "Oh. I see."

Awkward silence.

You: "Ok, maybe I'm a little upset."

Your shirt starts to tear off because you are growing huge.

You: "I'm pissed."
Boss: "Clearly."

I'm sure there are others, for example, I can't even think of one positive result of being able to hear other people's thoughts like Matt Parker in Heroes can. Oh, and anyone named "Elastic Man'', can't possibly have cool superpowers. Yes, this is the way in which I make myself feel better about not being born with any sort of power....well...except for the power of being AWESOME.

The Ins and Outs of Buffing and Polishing

I’ve had many an unpleasant job as I’m sure you all have. However, looking back I can now see that they have taught me a valuable lesson: marry someone rich. Just kidding there folks….sort of…but not really. Sorry Connor, we are done, consider this my two week’s notice. Unless you become rich in the next two weeks in which case, I love you, I always have, I want to marry you.

So, one of my favorite horrible jobs was buffing and polishing jewelry for the home shopping network at a local factory in Keene, NH while attending college. I started there as seasonal help before Christmas one year so I could make some extra cash and buy my family gifts. Why? Because I’m pretty much da’ bomb, also, I’m clearly in my mid-thirties because I just said ‘da bomb’. You got a problem?

The first day on the job I was told several things from my supervisor:

1. Always wear your safety glasses lest some Dimondique (just a little something I learned on the job, no big deal) stud comes flying out of your hand and stabs your eye.

2. Never over buff or polish hollow jewelry or you will put a hole in it.

3. Always put a wad of medical tape around your thumb as to not buff or polish the skin off your finger.

4. Lastly, never, under any circumstance wear loose clothing. The issue with loose clothing is that your sleeve can get caught in the steel rod (which sticks out at the end of your machine and spins your buffing and polishing wheels).

“If your sleeve gets caught on the metal rod then it will twirl up and break your arm off. “

That’s what my supervisor said but I was pretty sure she added the breaking of the arm piece to make our job seem more dangerous, sort of like being a Navy Seal. And since being a Navy Seal and buffing and polishing jewelry are pretty much interchangeable they have also become interchangeable on my resume as well. Moving on.

The things that my supervisor didn’t tell me yet I learned relatively quickly on the job:

1. There are approximately ten buffing and polishing machines which are attached to one central ‘blower’. The blower suctions all of the buffing and polishing debris from your machine into a central bucket so you don’t inhale any harmful substances. Well, the closer you are to the ‘blower’ the better this works. Conversely, if you are on one of the machines that are the farthest from the blower, you can pretty much go f’ yourself because you spend eight hours inhaling crap. As a new person, you don’t know this and may wonder why your coworkers always stick you at the end machines. You also may wonder why at the end of every shift your face is totally covered in gray dust and everyone else’s seems just fine. Lastly you may wonder why people point and laugh at you. I actually still wonder that.

2. People don’t want you to work too fast. This is simply to create job security. As a veteran buffer said to my friend Amy when she too decided to take a job as a jewelry buffer and polisher, “Girl, you better slow down. You’re going to put us all out of work. This aint no damn race.”

3. Lastly, the people who do this line of work are a tight knit bunch. It takes a lot for them to warm up to new people. They pretty much assume when you walk through that door, that you will not be able to adhere to the instructions which were laid out to you on the first day. What were they thinking? Did they think I couldn’t handle this job? Pffffft, apparently they never met the likes of me.

Day two, buffing and polishing 12K gold cat pins. Hollow. Must be careful and not make any holes. Wearing my safety glasses. Sitting at the end machine with dust flying all over the place. Solid concentration. Nobody, I say nobody, will out buff and polish me today. I’m focused. I’m in the zone. I’m showing these people what’s what. I’m feeling a small tug on my men’s extra large J Crew cable knit sweater sleeve? Hmmm…what could that…? F.

I realized that the cuff of my sweater had gotten caught on the spinning rod at the end of my machine and within a fraction of a second I pulled my arm out of my sweater sleeve. The sleeve spun around the metal rod all the way up to my shoulder and I was stuck against my buffer and polisher. The wheels could not turn anymore and the whole contraption made a loud noise sort of like a fog horn which turned everyone’s attention in the factory to me. I could not reach the on and off switch with my other hand so I did what I always do when I’m at a loss. I smiled. Yes, I sat there smiling like an idiot while the machine that I was attached to was letting off large plumes of smoke and making sounds that probably woke up the neighborhood.

I locked eyes with my supervisor who was pushing chairs and open mouthed coworkers out of her way to get to my machine. There was a smell of burning and I committed to going down with my buffer and polisher. We had a good run of it. We shared some moments. We had some laughs. But fate had other plans for me. My supervisor turned the switch to ‘off’. The noise slowly ceased and silence filled the factory. I stood there for a few more seconds; smile still plastered on my face. It took a bit of time to finally muster up enough courage to move. I unrolled my sweater from the machine and put my arm back into my sleeve which was so stretched out that it hung to the floor. I looked at my supervisor and thanked her ‘for saving my life’. Yes, I actually said that.

With a couple of quiet laughs and murmurs everyone went back to their work. I did the same, after a brief second rundown of rules 1-4 with my supervisor, and spent the next three hours of my shift contemplating coming home empty handed for Christmas.

Food, Folly and Work

So I did the most embarrassing thing yesterday. When people have extra food at work that they dont' want, they leave it on the counter in the kitchen. I went in there at two pm and saw a sandwich sitting on a paper plate. I was so excited because I was starving and hadn't eaten anything since eight in the morning. I was also exited because it looked like corned beef and it was Saint Patrick's day, much better then the salad I was planning on eating. So, I took half of the sandwich (I didn't want to be the office a-hole and not leave some for others) and brought it to my desk. With in two minutes I had inhaled the meat off the sandwich and threw out the bread. I have a hard time digesting white flour, yes, apparently I'm 80.

Approximately five minutes after I had finished the sandwich, I hear my boss yelling from the kitchen, "Someone ate half my sandwich?!". There was a moment of silence and I could feel the blood start to rush to my face. Another coworker yelled, "What? No!" then I heard their speculation "Maybe it was one of the auditors. Jack, you should confront them!" and another, "Who would just take a sandwich? That's so strange." Then my boss again: "I can't leave my food on the counter for five minutes without someone taking it?"

Oh. My. God. What to do? I contemplated my dilemma and options for the next 5 seconds or so. Maybe I should just not say anything. But then I remembered that the bread was still in my trashcan. Maybe I should smuggle the bread into the bathroom and flush it down the toilette piece by piece. No, it will never work, the walk to the bathroom is too long and I would surely pass someone on the way. Damn that bread. Stop staring at me bread. Maybe I should eat the bread from the trashcan. I looked in, picked up the bread and held it in my hand for a second. I peered back into the trash and saw old candy wrappers (they are mine, no big deal), pieces of paper (whatever, paper is pretty clean) and old tissues from my daily allergy attacks (It's my own snot...No. Pull yourself together woman!). Oh god. I sat listening to my coworkers plotting their confrontation of the auditors. They were getting more and more incensed. The poor auditors, I can't let one of them take my fall. I put the bread back in the trash can and executed my plan.

Taking a deep breath I walked over the circle of coworkers which had formed pretending like I hadn't heard them talking. One said, "Did you hear? Someone stole half of Jack's sandwich". My boss adding, "Preposterous!". I feigned letting the information sink in and then allowed shock to register on my face and stated, 'OH MY GOD! It was me! I ate your sandwich, I'm so sorry. I just saw it sitting there, and thought..someone was giving it away". The first part of my sentence was loud due to a sort of false confidence I had from having not eaten out of my trashcan, this girl has standards, yes. But by the end of my statement I had trailed off to being almost completely inaudible and ended with a strange cough noise to punctuate that I was finished speaking. I sat there with a stupid grin on my face as if to say "Silly me!". They all looked at me with deep confusion as I shifted from one shocked coworkers face to another trying to find someone to meet my gaze. However, each coworker would avoid my sandwich stealing eyes and look at the floor or the wall or at each other. I finally locked at one coworker who appeared to be on the verge of something. Yelling? Crying? Screaming 'Oh the humanity'? Then it came out, a deep loud from the pit of the stomach laugh as she stated, "That is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time. Seriously, hysterical." My boss, whose sandwich I ate, looked wounded at first (I mean, I had almost quite literally taken the food out of his mouth). But then his face turned red (I think he was so embarrassed for me that it made him embarrassed) and he too gave a good laugh. I offered to buy him another sandwich to which he graciously declined and walked to his office with the non eaten half of his sandwich.

So now, I'm that girl. I'm the girl that eats other people's office food. Sweet.

My Family (Not a funny post...sorry!)

There are very few things that are so important in my life that I dare not speak of them. As if my thoughts alone could break the fragile glass bubble that holds those very things together. My family is sustained there.

It’s strange to think about the bond between my mother and father and what it grew from and what grew from it. A young sales man in New York City meeting a youthful nurse in a hospital cafeteria and such is how the idea of my life began. I often try to picture them, so novel to each other and the journey that lay before them. I imagine my father in a derby hat with his cleft chin and laughing eyes, introducing himself to my mother. My mother with her infinite style, sensitivity and fire which I’m sure claimed many hearts but my father was the last to lay claim on hers. It has been said that my mother innately has the kind of style that people try all their lives to have but never quite achieve. Above all, my parents laugh. They share a bond that makes it hard not to believe in the kind of love that can endure a lifetime. Sometimes I wonder if my fear of marriage is that of seeing in their relationship a mythical perfection.

My parents love brought them to marry and my father’s job brought them to Chicago where my sister was born. My protector. My sister came out of the womb with a maturity which took me decades to understand and even longer to reach. She has always taken care of me so subconsciously but entirely that I have found it hard to find a specific occasion to thank her. She has a laugh that fills a room and a kindness that sooths. There is understanding of me in my sister that I myself do not possess and that has guided me to answers which questions I hadn’t even thought to ask. Growing up we shared a room and being only eleven months apart shared a disparity of personalities. I made sure I was everything that she did not wish to be. That is how I found myself, by looking up to someone and trying to find the differences to live inside of.

My father's job relocated them to Canada after my sister was born. I can't grasp the task at hand for my mother, having a one month old baby girl, being newly pregnant and moving to another country. So far away from her home and her family with her husband traveling for weeks on end, I am amazed at the strength she must encompass to have gotten herself over the border to create another home thousands of miles away. There must have been lonely nights when she realized, as she put her head to the pillow, that she hadn't spoken one adult word throughout the entire day. My mother may breakdown now and then but she is unbreakable. Ten months later, I came into this world, into a foreign country that is so similar to ours yet a bit tilted. I still believe that this somehow explains at least a portion of my oddness.

Two years after I was born my family made its last voyage to central Massachusetts where my father’s past of moving from school to school decided for him that he would not move his children again until they graduated high school. Regardless of the offers that surely would come in, we would stay.

Three years later my brother entered our lives with weak lungs, a sensitive heart and his own way of doing things. He was my biggest fan and shadowed me for the following seven years of our lives giving me a sense of worth that I had lacked in being only a younger sister. I found reasons to teach and guide, to boss around and to be in charge. But the three years between us was an eternity of difference and through the eyes of my adolescence he was stuck at the same age and would never grow up. Until, that is, I graduated from college. I remember a party in New Hampshire that my brother had invited my boyfriend and me to. We stopped by for a few beers and I met my brother again as well as for the first time. Out from the depths of the boyish façade that I had created for him emerged the confident, secure, mature young man who could make even the most severe crumble to the ground with laughter. I saw the lightness and the wisdom of my father. It was apparent that his friends had known this man for a long time.

And these are the things that stir in the quiet of my mind. I know that family, like all things in life, are fleeting. For humans are born to this earth with only one piece of certainty, knowing that they too will die. But on this day, I speak to the now and I am indebted for it. For this has been by no choice or will of my own that I should have been placed in the hands of those whom I not only love but who I like. And when we sit together at a table sometimes the laughter builds to a level that makes those around us uncomfortable. I try and make a photograph in my mind. I hold my breath. I try to not disturb the balance and I think to myself, remember this. Remember always what was your family.