Time to move on....and grow up.

I've have been blessed beyond measure this past year. To quote Dave Ramsay, "Better than I deserve." Really though, aren't we all better than we deserve? We as people are fairly ridiculous... I'm digressing though and back to the topic: I'm sucking it up and rejoining productive society.

My wonderful husband has granted me the privilege of staying home this past year since the closure of my store. We had never really planned on it working out this way, but rather muddled our way through. It's been a tough year financially with the loss of my income but the trade-off was well worth it in time gained with my kids and dear Bob.

Years ago, I was an Account Executive for HFC and sold financial products through them to the "B"-paper crowd. Basically, that's below bank standards, but still above sub-prime. I hated it more than anything. The idea that you can help people is great, however, becoming financially successful requires a psychological mindset change that most people are unwilling to make. When you are writing a jumbo-loan (that's over and above true equity, that's taking out the first with an adjustable equity piggy-back for up to 125% of the value) for someone that owes over $55,000 to QVC and the Home Shopping Channel, these folks aren't likely to change their spending habits and bow you're left with the knowledge that they can never move because they are never going to be able to sell their home- ever.

I haven't sold insurance or mortgages for over 10 years so the current crisis is in no way, shape or form my fault. That said, it seems I'm once more for the battlement. I'm currently studying up and next week am taking my pre-licensing course for insurance with commodities and mortgage to follow shortly. The company that I'm intending to sell for seems rather reputable and only time will truly tell. For now, it feels rather good to know that once again I have a hand in the direction that my life is going. I love and respect my husband more than I can express for the chance he gave me to lean on him and prove the 'for worse' part of our wedding vows to be true.

Anyways, for now I am still writing because selling finance isn't actually what I want to do and we all need to have dreams, right?

Interviews...and why I blame Lloyd Dobler...

I've been interviewing for jobs lately.

I did what a lot of moms did...I gave up my career so that I could work around my kids.

The problem with getting off the career highway is once you change paths you often realize that wasn't the road you were supposed to be on in the first place! Mortgage Banking!?

Like many women my age, I now find myself in a conundrum.

I am in need a job but having a career that is fulfilling and something that I would enjoy seems elusive and plainly out-of-reach. I do not have the availability, drive, determination or desire to be cutthroat enough to get to a similar position to the one I had before I decided to play "Mommy".

I think I've determined the cause of my discontent regarding the jobs currently available.

It's Lloyd Dobler's fault. Yes. Lloyd Dobler-the fictional Cameron Crowe creation brought to life brilliantly by the iconic '80's actor John Cusack in the classic 1989 film Say Anything.

Why Lloyd Dobler you say? It's his speech he gives the John Mahoney character about what he intends to do for a career. He's not entirely certain what he will do but knows with great clarity what he doesn't want to do.

I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.

Now I will continue to interview for jobs that I can't get very excited about...the jobs that I've truly enjoyed don't "pay". Maybe even someday my version of Lloyd's kickboxing (my writing) may even pay the bills...but for now I need to practice my pithy responses to "And tell me where you see yourself in five years. And what would you say your greatest strength is?"

In five year's time I hope to find myself to be a happy wife and soccer-mom with a published book or two under my metaphoric belt. I also hope that fortitude will be my greatest strength in the event that my wished-for future doesn't materialize and instead I'm asking if that was a Tall or Grande Latte.

A good day for justice....

After dodging the metaphoric bullet of jury duty for many years, I was finally hit.

In early December I was summoned to Coleman A. Young for January 27th with instructions to call the night before. I call and hear the dreaded words, "Groups numbered from 50-150 must report to Frank Murphy Hall of Justice...." and I don't recall the rest as I was jumping up and down in frustration. The difference is civil cases (Young) and criminal cases (Murphy) not to mention parking! (infinitely easier at Young-you can park underground at Ford Auditorium and then just cross Jefferson)

So after figuring out a happy medium of comfortable, yet appropriate clothes and googling how best to navigate my way, I set off for downtown. Yay construction. St. Antoine was all blocked off and they were sending me every-which-way around Greektown EXCEPT the way I had to go. I get to Murphy and check through security where I discover Bob, being the best husband on the planet, had packed me a surprise lunch. No cell phones, iPods, radios or any electronics of any kind are allowed so I brought a hard-copy of my nano to edit, assuming incorrectly that I would have time to do so.

They call me up in the first batch of jurors. They started with 60 of us to seat a jury of 14. They randomly seat 14 using jury cards and a bingo-ball cage. They dismiss 3 of them based on ESL, religious, and medical reasons. They seat 3 more and start 'group' questions. 2 more are dismissed and 2 more seated. They are questioned and when they get to seat 14, there was a conflict and they were also dismissed and I was seated in 14. I'm questioned and sat as last member.

In the information we were given before we were seated, we had been told that it was a sex-crime case and the alleged victim was a minor. What we learned after the other prospective jurors were dismissed and the trial began was the perpetrator was the victim's biological father. The girl was 12 when the charges were filed and the father was 41. There was an established pattern of abuse which began at age 6 and continued through the date the charges were filed. The victim's half-sister (same mother) had given testimony (to show pattern) her step-father had also raped her until she reached high school age and could defend herself. When the defense asked why the older girl didn't warn the younger one she responded that she hadn't imagined he was twisted enough to do that to his own flesh and blood.

We sat through extensive medical testimony, complete with diagrams and pictures. I will spare everyone the details but suffice it to say I don't watch Law & Order SVU because of it's graphic and depressing nature...everything I've seen the last few days is so much worse. He would reward her by bringing her bags of Doritos and Mountain Dew. He robbed his own flesh and blood of her innocence and he repaid her with snacks? I was physically ill on my way home from court yesterday as all the evidence and testimony replayed in my mind. How can anyone do such a
atrocious things?

Today the testimonies were complete and all evidence was summarized and closing statements were made after the defense rested without pleading their case, despite his plea of innocence. When we adjourned to deliberate, we took a vote and had one dissenter. The issue was the non-eloquent testimony of the girl. After much discussion, she understood what the rest of us did...she's a twelve (actually she just turned 13) year old girl and kids that age aren't renown for their powers of speech. This was not a scripted drama...the girl had to get on the stand and give a roomful of strangers graphic detail of the deplorable, immoral and illegal things her father did repeatedly to her. After further discussion, we reached a unanimous verdict: guilty.

There were five counts of first-degree criminal sexual assault between a child under thirteen by a person over seventeen. The ages are important because it determines the minimum sentence. After we had given our verdict and verified it in our own voices in court, the judge came into the jury room and explained what would happen next. In Michigan the charge for 1st degree sex assault with an under-13 by an over-17 carries a minimum sentence of 25 years to life. He was found guilty on all 5 counts. I am very proud that I was able to do this. I don't really ever want to sit in judgement over another like this again, but I am glad that I was able to see justice done.

I offer to you all this last thought...the next time you are called for jury duty, think about the true need for justice and how you can help. Instead of getting out of it and letting it be someone else's responsibility make it yours.

Coming soon to a theater near you: The Pothole That Ate My Car

It started out like any ordinary evening. The kids did their homework. We ate dinner. All was well with the world.

The boys had asked if we could go to Toys-R-Us as they had Christmas money that was burning holes in their pockets. J wanted to get the new Guitar Hero for his DS and S could not wait to get his little hands on the new Sonic Unleashed game.

Simple enough trip...we piled into the station wagon and attempted to make the three-mile trek. I finally understand Gilligan's Island and the bit about the three-hour tour. (still unclear why Ginger and the Howells packed trunks for a three-hour boat ride...it's a plot hole as big as my pothole!)

Here in the fine State of Michigan we don't have little potholes....no. This is Michigan where there are more registered cars than eligible drivers for them. With such a surfeit of autos, it's no great surprise we make killer chuckholes. Along Warren Avenue, each lane, including the center turn lane, has tire-popping holes in it.

We were halfway to the store last night when we hit one of these monstrous, car-eating traps. We pulled over and Bob showed the boys how to change a tire. Everything went fine and we moved on...until we hit another pothole and popped our spare.

We thankfully had reached the plaza and called my parents to come and get us. My husband, being the resourceful man that he is, has an extra set of tires he has stored at work. He ran out to Plymouth and picked up a tire and then the jack ripped apart like a tin can. Luckily, something had gone right and we had an extra jack we could use.

What should have been no more than a thirty-minute, three-mile trip turned into a three-hour adventure in the cold and snow!

Just be warned...watch out for those devastating potholes! They will eat your car and then some!

I'm a writer!

This year I signed up for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)'challenge'. The goal was to write 50,000 words in a month or less. I've been beta-reading and researching for a friend who has authored several Austen alternates over the years. Bob has often told me I should write a book and that, in concert with the harassment I received from my so-called friend, the idea to try my own hand at writing was born.

They say write what you know. Over the years I've read more P&P related miscellany than I care to admit. Some was exceptionally well done but most was not. Too much fan-fic on the Internet has dumbed-down our expectations and so much has felt like it's been done before. I have a passion for history and had this great idea to set P&P against WWII. The stage is wide and there's a lot you can use for obstacles. The possibilities are nearly limitless.

The essentials of the characters, their nature as it were, wholly belong to Austen. That said, these characters- William Darcy, Ellie Bennet, Richard Fitzwilliam, Jane Bennet, Charles Bingley, Georgie Darcy and the ever-nefarious Wickham belong to me. Their neurosis and pathos are (sorry Shakespeare) fashioned from my own pure brain.

Will gets stretched more,and Ellie gets to be more outspoken. I love writing for Richard...the Colonel may be my favorite side character! Jane is made stronger, her quiet nature has more to do with earlier circumstance and Bingley is quicker in wit and is much more self-assured here. I admit I've treated poor Georgie awfully, but out of tragedy good things often come. And, well, I may just end up killing Wickham before all is said and done.

What I am writing is mostly for my own benefit. After I 'won' the challenge, I understood what Jane Austen had meant when she talked about her characters being real to her, My Ellie and Will are NOT Mr. Darcy and Miss Eliza. The circumstances and period warrant changes and I find I have to continue writing. I cannot leave Ellie stranded in Gander and Georgie needs some happiness and Bingley and Jane have had it too easy thus far!

What I have posted on my blog is chiefly to help keep me accountable in my writing. Some things will inevitably be altered as the novel continues to take shape. I thank all of you for indulging in my new found passion. I need to do this and see it through!

Thanks everyone for bearing with me. Happy New Year!
-michchick

Out with the old....

2008 is at an end and 2009 is rapidly approaching whether we like it or not....

A very long time ago my friend Doug had demonstrated that life is fluid, like water. When you remove a seemingly immovable object from water, like a rock or a piling, the water simply fills in the gap. The point was no matter what happens in life, change is inevitable and life goes on without us.

This was a lesson played out when I lost my job. I had identified with my job far more than I had realized. I am ashamed to admit it took far longer than it should have to realize that I already had several, much more important jobs. I was privileged to spend the bulk of the year simply being a wife and mother.

It was hard, and sacrifices were made. Not so many new video games nor trips to Chuck E. Cheese, but instead we spent a great deal more time together as a family. It was awesome and I found such delight in my family that whatever constraints on my time there may be in the future, I will always be able to look back on this time and cherish the memories we made as a family.

2009 will be a different sort of year altogether. I will procure some sort of job and I really don't care what it may be. My priority is my family and no job or career is worth putting the ones I love on hold as I've done so often over the years.

With this new perspective I look forward to what 2009 may bring. There will be some interesting times...(my 20th high school reunion!) and I look forward to them all!

michchick's love of cars, or, It's a Jeep thing....

Okay, over the years I admit I've owned my fair share of automobiles.

In high school I shared my mom's Chevy Celebrity Station Wagon. It was gold and my friends and I affectionately nicknamed it the 'Chuckwagon'. It was great because we could jam 7 of us in there and the stereo cranked decently loud. It's greatest problem was it rode low and when you went through too much water it would flood and stall.

For graduation I inherited my Aunt Tree's 84 1/2 (the half is important because it signaled production changes) Ford Escort. It was my first car that was wholly mine and though it caused me lots of grief I loved it truly. It was a color I always referred to as 'a Smurf-caught-in-the-Chernobyl-accident-blue'. I put 100,000 miles on that car myself in less than five years. Trips to anywhere and everywhere, the 'smurfmobile' was intrepid. Usually. They say Ford isn't just the family's name but an acronym. I have lived it and can attest to it's truth.

Ford stands for: Found On Road Dead or Fix Or Repair Daily. Both seemed to be the case in my beloved smurfmobile's case.

When at last the Escort would journey no more, I bought my first Chrysler product. I became the proud owner of a Plymouth Sundance. It was exactly the same car as the more familiar Dodge Shadow, they just plated them differently. It was a lovely mid-size car but I was fiscally irresponsible and had to part ways with my lovely car.

It was then I bought a car that I disliked so much I can't even remember what it was. A friend of my mom's had been in it when it was hit by a SEMTA bus and the seat was broken and wouldn't stay upright. It also had an odd odor I couldn't get rid of. My dear husband was my fiance at the time and he drove my wreck and let me instead drive his Pontiac Grand Am. The car was so truly awful he can't remember what it was either except it was a black hatchback.

When we were married we purchased a four-door 'family' car. We bought a blue Chevy Cavalier with the upgraded engine and all the bells and whistles available way back in '97.

Shortly after that my husband parted ways with his Grand Am and we inherited a Dodge Dakota complete with cap. Neither of us had ever owned a truck and it was a unique experience. With a small baby though, a truck isn't practical so we did what all families eventually do...we got a bigger vehicle.

We bought our first minivan. It was a bright-red Plymouth Voyager. I never in my life thought I'd ever own a minivan, let alone before I turned 30. The dirty little secret they don't tell you is that once you have one, you don't know how you lived without one!

Along the way we inherited my Grandpa's Buick Century Station Wagon which was a sister vehicle, though newer, to my mom's old chuckwagon. I still get flashbacks when I drive it to this day!

Our red van was totaled by a distracted driver on her cell phone one day. As we had the Cavalier and the Century, we didn't replace it right away. Then a few months later the Cav blew up. (We had it paid off for over a year and Murphy's law clearly stated it was time for something to go wrong!)

We set out to find a new car. We found the best deal ever...we bought a forest-green Plymouth Town and Country that was beyond loaded and completely within our price range. What made it even sweeter was when the salesman explained he'd have to change out the all-gold (read: pimp) wheels for the plainer, Chrysler-logo wheels. For the inconvenience he took an extra $500 bucks off the price. We drove my minivan everywhere! It was comfortable and convenient, it was part of our family for many years. As all family members get older, so do vehicles. Finally around the ripe-old age of 190,000 miles, the transmission dropped. There were other signs of aging we'd been trying to ignore, the trans was simply the death knell for my T&C.

It's no secret that I've spent most of this year unemployed. It's been difficult but we've managed to get by. We are simply not budgeted at this time for the expense of a second vehicle.

It turns out our neighbor, who'd worked years ago with my husband at Delphi, had an extra vehicle in his backyard that he had no use for. Our neighbor gave us his Jeep Cherokee. My husband is the nicest man on the planet and it warms my heart greatly to know that someone thought so well of him to be this generous. Who gives away a car? We are very blessed indeed!

Anyways, we currently own the Century Wagon and a 1992 Jeep Cherokee (it has half the miles the van did and though it's 17 years old, it's in fantastic shape). I had a friend in college named CJ who had a Jeep Wrangler and would always say you never could explain what owning a Jeep was like, it was something you just had to do. I always thought CJ had been exaggerating about 'Jeepdom'. It seems I was wrong, and Christian Alan Johnson...if you're out there...I'm sorry! You were right and I was wrong!

We've had significant amounts of snow already this year and I've not gotten stuck even once. The high clearance of the car, combined with the short wheelbase makes a huge difference. When you start to slide even a little, the recovery is shorter and easier and that's all before you even think about engaging the 4-wheel drive! Extra bonuses are my neighbor had put a PA system and a 'police' bumper on the Jeep. I also have a tow-hitch so it seems I'm now well-prepared for anything. I miss my van's spacious interior and regret I can't pick up a carload of my kid's friends to go to Chuck E. Cheese anymore but I confess driving in this mess is much preferable in the Jeep.

I now belong to CJ's ranks of people who say 'it's a Jeep thing, you wouldn't understand...'

Quiet!

Today my boys, all of them including the 37-year-old one, are out of the house. I honestly forgot what quiet sounds like. I've not turned on the radio, left my computer's music files silent, I'm not streaming anything, nor have I turned the TV on. I'm just simply enjoying the quiet and solitude.

This Christmas season we've all been terribly rushed...finish up school for the year, complete various projects before it's too late, clean the house from top to bottom (maybe not the last one) and so many other things that just aren't important in the long run.

Today I am enjoying the quiet. There is too much noise already and just for one day, I am enjoying some peace. My kids would interject here and say, "I'm bored!" Instead of our usual crazy pace, I'd actually like to try some boredom for a lttle while. ;)

Professional Indoor Soccer?

My kids play soccer. Both of them. The older one plays because his friends do and he likes it well enough. My younger son plays because he has to....it's like his life depends on it or something.

Being a soccer mom was not what I signed up for as I really always hated the sport. My boyfriend in high school played travel, school and rec with games year round and, being the dutiful girlfriend I was, I went to way too many games as a result. Yes, Mr. HS-BF wrecked soccer forever for me, or so I thought.

My younger son's passion for the game is rather infectious. He is a rock star in goal, and a super-tough forward as well. He has a very competitive nature which helped drive his team's fall session to go undefeated.

Trying to be the involved parents we want to be, my husband has been working as assistant coach for one of the teams and recently went for his certification training. As a bonus, he received some tix for the Detroit Ignition. The Ignition play in the XSL at Compuware in Plymouth.

Let me say indoor extreme soccer is soccer on ADHD. It's soccer that plays with the speed of hockey and scores like basketball. It's completely insane and if you have the opportunity to go, I highly recommend it. In normal soccer, play is stopped frequently for out-of-bounds. In indoor soccer, they play purposefully off the boards and it's absolutely cool to watch!

Also, they've 'amped' it up to compete with other pro sports. There's giveaways, dancers, cheerleaders, extremely loud music, more giveaways, pyrotechnics and a roaming mascot to boot. I found it to be surprisingly great entertainment. I just know Mr. HS-BF would laugh really hard if he knew I liked soccer now.

Australia!

This is a most amazing movie! Yes, I am particularly obsessing about WWII at present but I promise that has nothing to do with my admiration for this film.

Till just twenty-five years ago, in Australia there was a hundred-odd year practice of taking so-called 'half-caste' children away from their aboriginal families to 'remove the black' from them.

This abominable practice was sanctioned by the government and the church who both thought it was their moral duty to provide this service for these poor, immoral souls. Nevermind the fact that if the European settlers hadn't engaged in 'immoral' practices, there would not have been the half-caste issue in the first place.

The movie does a very decent office in shedding some light on this practice. Sociological texts such as the awful Races of Europe perpetuated myths about the physical superiority of certain races over others. This in particular was a text revered by Hitler himself, for it gave him the 'scientific' evidence he wanted to prove his claims regarding Jews as less-than-human. The church and government held erroneous beliefs that the aboriginal peoples didn't value their children, and would forget them because of the importance of self-reliance in their culture.

The half-caste children, almost entirely born within the aboriginal communities, were removed and taken to 'centers' where they would be trained to forget the heritage entirely and learn how to be a domestic servant. The disgusting behavior to the aboriginal women was an excellent means of continuing to provide what was essentially free labor for many generations. The men bore no reprecussions as the women were never believed, and the offspring, often derogatorrially called 'creamies', would in turn be forced to work in white people's homes and the vicious cycle would continue on.

The lighter the shade of half-caste, the more prestigious position you could gain. This horrendous practice continued until 1973 and the Australian government only apologized to the aboriginal peoples this very year of 2008. There is no talk of restitution for the 'lost generations'.

An excellent docudrama on this subject is Rabbit-Proof Fence. There is some artistic liscense taken with the movie but the core story is based on an actual events. This is the imdb decription:

Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002) IMDB
This is the true story of Molly Craig, a young black Australian girl who leads her younger sister and cousin in an escape from an official government camp, set up as part of an official government policy to train them as domestic workers and integrate them into white society. With grit and determination Molly guides the girls on an epic journey, one step ahead of the authorities, over 1,500 miles of Australia's outback in search of the rabbit-proof fence that bisects the continent and will lead them home. These three girls are part of what is referred to today as the 'Stolen Generations.'

Western Australia, 1931. Government policy includes taking half-caste children from their Aboriginal mothers and sending them a thousand miles away to what amounts to indentured servitude, "to save them from themselves." Molly, Daisy, and Grace (two sisters and a cousin who are 14, 10, and 8) arrive at their Gulag and promptly escape, under Molly's lead. For days they walk north, following a fence that keeps rabbits from settlements, eluding a native tracker and the regional constabulary. Their pursuers take orders from the government's "chief protector of Aborigines," A.O. Neville, blinded by Anglo-Christian certainty, evolutionary world view and conventional wisdom. Can the girls survive?