Since I’m on a Power Trip . . .

My last post on Friday was about the power of positive thinking–today, I want to talk about a different kind of power, or more accurately, the lack thereof.  Last night was a typical Sunday night at my house.  The husband and the kids and I were all in the family room watching TV, using the computer, etc. when BAM! the lights went out.

This happens fairly frequently, and, more often than not, the electricity comes right back on within a few minutes, the outage lasting only long enough to make it necessary to reset the 58 clocks we have in our house.  Not this time.

I scrounged in the kitchen for some candles and brought them into the family room, but the competing fragance combinations were a bit much.  Then, I remembered that upstairs in the guest room I had one of those candle gardens, I think they were called–you know the plate with different size pillars arranged on it?  The best part was, I was pretty sure the candles were unscented.

I set the candle garden in the fireplace and lit it up and it created such a nice, warm, homey glow.  The house was so quiet without the omnipresent white noise hum of the computer, the stereo, the lights and the refrigerator.  It was peaceful, and my family actually talked instead of just occupying the same space.

The lights came back on after a couple of hours, and we went back to business as usual.  However, this afternoon, at about 4:00, with a steady, raw, gloomy drizzle falling outside, I lit the candle garden again.  Why wait for the lights to go out again before enjoying the quiet power of a flickering candle?

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) Joan McCue 2008 All Rights Reserved

The Power of Positive Thinking

I’ve been in a bit of a funk this week and have fallen out of the good routine I’d established for marketing myself as a writer. The weather isn’t helping–gray, gray and grayer today. However, I vowed to get back on the horse and started my day by visiting one of my favorite online spots, Deb Ng’s Freelance Writing Jobs site.

Low and behold, one of the posts there and the subsequent comments are all about the power of positive thinking when we writers hit a low spot in our careers. One quote that one of the commentators offered up really hit home. It goes like this: “Success is not playing the game with a perfectly dealt hand. Success is make the best of a poor hand.”

I certainly haven’t been dealt a poor hand; I have many blessings in my life, but when we hit a stretch when the assignments aren’t exactly rolling in but the bills are, it can be hard to sit in front of that keyboard everyday or pick up the phone to follow up on or generate new leads. But, ya gotta do what ya gotta do and sometimes, just one email or one phone call is all it takes.

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) Joan McCue 2008 All Rights Reserved

It Doesn’t Hurt to Ask, Right?

In the 3/23 issue of The New York Times I read an article on negotiating the price on items other than new cars and fine jewelry. Click here to read it. I’m always interested in ways to save money, so I found this to be useful information. I haven’t had the opportunity to try it yet, but will keep it in mind. Anybody else care to comment on your unusual negotiating successes?

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) Joan McCue 2008 All Rights Reserved

Bullies Cross the Line, But Why Don’t the Authorities?

I wanted to ease into my Monday by spending some time with the NY Times, delivered electronically to my inbox each morning. So, I poured myself a second cup of coffee and settled in, with the dog curled up at my feet. The first headline that caught my eye was A Boy The Bullies Love to Beat Up, Repeatedly. Good bye easy morning. Hello outrage. Click here to read the piece.

What is wrong with us today? How is it that a boy like Billy, so much like the fictional character in Jodi Piccoult’s The Tenth Circle, has to endure repeated beatings, online harassment, and just plain mean, nasty attacks from his schoolmates almost daily?

His parents must be so overwhelmed with anger, sadness, pity, and frustration; I cannot imagine. That Billy’s principal had the absolute gall to say that Billy is somehow “asking for it” makes my blood absolutely boil, and I have never met this kid or his parents and have never been to the city in which he lives. But there are Billies (and Betties) in virtually every school in every city in this country. As the kids say, “WTF?”

I’m often accused of being too simplistic, too black-and-white-rules-are-rules. But, COME ON! I don’t care how whiny, obnoxious, or otherwise offensive Billy may or may not be, and I’m not saying he’s any of those things, remember, I don’t know him; he doesn’t deserve to be physically and emotionally assaulted in school. The way I see it, the school is at fault, no matter what. Either, 1. Billy is an incorrigible brat (unlikely) that the teachers and administrators can’t or won’t discipline, so the other kids take matters into their own hands, or 2. (More likely) the PTB can’t or won’t control the bullies. I’ll take door number two, thanks.

Why won’t the authorities cross the line and do whatever’s needed to ensure that the Billies of the world can feel safe at school? What say you?

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) Joan McCue 2008 All Rights Reserved

Holy Saturday, Batman!

Welcome to the hump day of the Easter Triduum (that’s Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter Sunday). I never quite know what it is I am supposed to do today. On Good Friday, we pray, fast, and abstain from eating meat. We may opt to attend the Stations of the Cross if we want to. Clear, easy-to-follow rules–no problem. On Easter Sunday, we go to mass and celebrate the risen Christ, the end of lent, and new beginnings–no problem. Today, however, I find myself in a religious holding pattern. There are no formal church services, no mass or anything. There is a blessing of the Easter food, but we’re eating out this year, so no need for that. I know what I will do–clean the house and bake a little something, but it just seems . . . I don’t know, like not enough. When all else fails, I guess you can always turn to the rosary, right?

If you’re Catholic or Christian, how do you spend Holy Saturday?

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) Joan McCue 2008 All Rights Reserved

The Easter-Basket-Fake-Grass-Chocolate-Bunny-Thing

Today, for us Catholics anyway, is Holy Thursday. That’s the day that Jesus celebrated the last supper with his disciples and was betrayed by Judas. (I read a funny quote the other day: if the 12 months were the 12 disciples, March would be Judas–I like that!)

Anyway, Holy Thursday also represents the day I can’t put if off anymore. Do I do the Easter-basket-fake-grass-chocolate-bunny-thing or don’t I?

As much as my girls are growing up, part of me still wants to dress them in smocked Polly Flenders dresses with big straw hats and shiny black (NEVER white before Memorial Day) Mary-Janes. Since that’s not about to happen, I end up flying to the mall to put together Easter baskets for them at the 11th hour and wind up spending too much on iTunes gift cards, lip gloss and earrings; items that are way costlier (is it still cool to use “way” as an adverb?) than jelly beans and marshmallow peeps.

Why? Because for years, I did the whole Easter-basket-fake-grass-chocolate-bunny-thing only to find, for weeks after, the little crumpled-up foil balls that were used to wrap the little chocolate eggs EVERYWHERE and shreds of fake grass out on the front lawn, after the dog has, well, let’s say finished with them. The best though is that by about June, I will, without fail, reach into the refrigerator, pull out an earless chocolate bunny or two, and grate him/them on top of a cake.

Have a blessed, joyous Easter, and,

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) 2008 Joan McCue All Rights Reserved

Cutting School for Community Service

How many times have I said to my kids, “school comes first?” So, how come they are sleeping in on this icky, rainy, March Wednesday despite the fact that due to a crazy standardized testing schedule and parent-teacher conferences, they’ve barely been in school this month?

Well, yes, school does come first, generally speaking, but sometimes there are other things that come up that are just as important and teach lessons that no classroom lecture or Smartboard presentation can.

My girls are Irish step dancers and the month of March finds them leaping and flying all over the state doing a series of what we call “dance outs” or shows to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Some are gigs at pubs, dinner dances, civic group meetings, etc. and most of those take place at night and make the dancers feel like stars. However, many, maybe even the majority, take place at assisted living facilities or nursing homes in the late morning or afternoon. These performances are not glamorous. There’s no big stage on which they can strut their stuff, no fancy lighting or big sound system. Usually, there’s a square of worn linoleum surrounded by the tools of physical therapy that serves as their dance floor, and that unmistakable nursing home smell.

Make no mistake. My two girls are every bit as obsessed with cell phones, Abercrombie and American Eagle, boys, the Jonas Brothers, and text messaging as every other American teen or tween. But for some reason (maybe a little leprechaun magic) when March rolls around every year, they are able to shed all those trappings and give a little of themselves to make the elderly smile. I cannot tell you how it warms my heart as a mom to not only watch my girls dance their hearts out (that, for them is the easy part), but after the show, see them make their way carefully through a sea of wheelchairs and walkers to shake frail hands, accept hugs, or allow trembling fingers to touch their exquisite costumes. My normally quiet and reserved 11 year-old becomes animated as she answers questions about her hair (yes, it’s a wig) her costume (it was made in Ireland) and is generous with her smiles and laughter. My vivacious 15 year-old dials it down a notch and becomes patient and kind, looking deep into eyes that are clouded by cataracts or dementia and really listening to what her new “fans” have to say as they share stories, real or imagined, about their own histories as perfomers.

Should they be in school today? Probably. Will they pay the make-up price when they return tomorrow? Yup. But, these are life lessons and memories they will keep with them forever. Experiences I daresay will serve them better than the using the quadratic formula or memorizing the dynasties of China.

Until next time,

Joan

(c) 2008 Joan McCue All Rights Reserved

Some Days, It All Just Works

Wow, it’s not even 11:15 AM and I feel like I’ve accomplished so much. Ahem. So far today I have:

• Gotten my high schooler up and out the door (a yeoman’s task in and of itself)
• Attended my middle schooler’s parent-teacher conference (and got a great report, I might add)
• Returned home, fed said middle schooler a balanced breakfast (so it came from Dunkin’ Donuts–I’m bragging about efficiency here, not perfection)
• Driven my middle schooler to school, complete with homemade bagged lunch (delayed opening today due to conferences)
• Done some grocery shopping (would you believe I can carry $135 worth of groceries all at once?)
• Picked up a friend’s son after he missed the bus and drove him to school (this kid was trying to milk the delayed opening for all it’s worth)
• Talked to dh on the phone (twice)
• Completed two loads of laundry, with the third almost ready for the dryer (folding and putting away doesn’t count–it’s clean and ready to wear, so it’s done)
• Updated my blog (okay, so that’s not DONE by 11:15, but pretty close)

Left To Do:

• Assemble tonight’s dinner (sausage and potatoes anyone?)
• Pray (if it doesn’t get written down, it doesn’t get done)
• Complete an assignment for a client (gotta pay those bills)

So, moms, what’s the deal? How come there are some days when I can barely get my teeth brushed by noon and others when everything comes together with so much efficiency that I think I might actually still have some multi-tasking skills left after all? I think it has something to do with spring being right around the corner. The light outside is different, if you know what I mean, and I think it packs a whole different kind of energy. Whatever it is, mine is not to question; mine is to shut up and do.

Until next time,

Joan

(c) 2008 All Rights Reserved

On New York’s Governor Crossing the Line

I don’t usually touch the topic of politics, but it’s been impossible to open a paper or turn on the TV or radio and not see or hear something about the now infamous “Client 9″ and his philandering ways. I just shake my head in disgust.

I’d like to focus on his wife, though. I mentioned to a group of ladies I had lunch with last week that I couldn’t believe she stood next to him, appearing anyway, to be supporting him as he issued his vague apology and then again when he announced his resignation. Much to my surprise, most of my companions remarked that they’d have stood next to him too if they stood to get half his fortune. Huh?? Sorry, but my dignity can’t be bought and, what message did she send to her daughters?

One person did view it from a slightly different angle, that, while it didn’t completely persuade me, it at least made me pause. She said that on their wedding day, Mrs. Spitzer stood up before God and her family and vowed to remain true “for better or for worse,” and this episode merely represented the worse part. But, we’re not talking about financial ruin, illness, injury or other tough times here. What happens when one spouse breaks the vows of marriage–is the other still bound to keep up their end of the deal?

To me, Elliott Spitzer crossed the line in the worst possible way.

Until Next Time,

Joan

(c) 2008 All Rights Reserved

Come Cross the Line with Me

Welcome to my little corner of the world wide web, where I hope to entertain you with commentary on my life as a wife, mom and freelance writer. First, a little about the name of my blog and its URL. I’m a writer by trade and meticulous (okay, neurotic) about grammar and style, so I like to make sure all my “i”s are dotted and “t”s are crossed; hence, crossinganddotting@wordpress.com.

In addition to being a stickler for sentence structure and syntax (and I enjoy alliteration, too) I apparently have a knack for . . .

Crossing the Line.

If I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me, “no one has ever asked that before,” I’d be blogging from my oceanfront deck on my own private island. I don’t consider myself to be unreasonable; in fact I hate confrontation and do my level best to avoid it. However, I also have a very low tolerance for political correct-ness, and I am the first to admit that diplomacy is not one of my strong suits. So, something as simple as commenting on how much homework my middle schooler has gets me in hot water, as does questioning why 200 6th graders with little or no sailing experience are boarding a schooner for a day without life jackets. You get the idea.

Anyway, thank you for visiting, and whether you’re a kindred spirit who will jump over that line with me without a second thought, or a more even-keeled sort who will watch my antics from the safe side of the line, I hope you enjoy what I have to say, and won’t be afraid to engage. Just be sure not to dangle any participles or misplace your modifiers. Like the bumper sticker my teenager sent me for my Facebook page says, “If you use bad grammar, I will judge you.”

Until next time,

Joan

(c) 2008 All Rights Reserved