Fish sticks are better than I thought

I had fish sticks for lunch today. 

Normally, I would have had a, um, less processed fish, but my nieces are visiting. I needed something easy enough for Kaylee, the 17-month-old, to eat, even though she only ate one half of a stick.

I can't remember the last time I had fish sticks. Maybe second grade. And if so, I buried the memory. But these Mrs. Paul's fish sticks were pretty tasty. Crunchy. Fresh. Yum.

When was the last time you ate fish sticks?

 

Entry 1: Getting the kids to NJ

If you've been following my blog, you know that Phillip and I brought my nieces, age seven years old and 17-months, back to New Jersey with us. We were all in Memphis for the holiday.

Kendall, the oldest, has flown before, so she was least of my worries, but Kaylee, the toddler, was new to flying and was another story. But first, we had to get on the plane.

Phillip and I normally fly light, if possible, we always carry on our luggage. But yesterday, that was not an option. We had three suitcases - our two carry-ons and their large suitcase. We also had a stroller, car seat, diaper bag and a bag full of toys that wouldn't fit in either suitcase. We checked nearly everything. I'm still trying to figure out how we did that without getting charged $15 per item, which is Continental's policy. Maybe the flight agent took pity on us. 

After checking everything except the stroller and diaper and toy bags, we made it through security fine, even though Kendall didn't want her Build-a-Bear to go through the screening machine, but Fluffy survived.

We settled in the waiting area with an hour to spare, so I called my older sister, Kristi, the girls' mother. When telling her about checking everything, she asked if we checked the bag of toys. 

Panic set in. 

Where was the bag of toys?

I pictured myself placing the bag against a wall near the check-in counter.

"Kristi, I gotta go. I left the bag at the check-in counter," I said.

I grabbed my boarding pass and ID and ran through the airport, praying that the bag was still there. A week without toys was going to be hellish. Plus, a pair of my new shoes were in that bag!

Thankfully, it was sitting exactly where I had propped it. 

Whew!

A little while later, we boarded the plane for the 6:10 p.m. This was an experience. Even though we had checked nearly everything, it still seemed like our arms were full. 

The first mistake was not wearing our coats on the plane, so Phillip had four coats in his arms, plus the stroller. I had Kaylee, who weights nearly 30 pounds, and the diaper bag and Kendall had the bag full of toys.

Now, this might not have posed a problem if we were on a "real"plane, but our plane was one of those with two seats on one side and one on the other and probably had 12 rows. It was tiny.

Heads were bumped. Sweat was forming. A line formed behind us. Apologizes were said. Phillip couldn't get all of the coats in the small overhead bin. I had the diaper and toy bags in the floor in front of my seat, which wasn't allowed. The flight attendant stored the toy bag. Kaylee was crying and Kendall wanted her Nintendo DS.

Once we finally got settled, about six minutes later, I wondered how parents do it? My next thought was "I don't want kids for sure!"

The flight was fine. We left on time. Kaylee ate, slept and was fine during take off and landing. Kendall listened to music and finally got her hands on her DS. 

Once we got to the car, we had to figure out how to get all of that stuff in the car. The suitcases and diaper and toy bags were in the trunk. The stroller was in the front seat and Kendall, Kaylee and I sat in the back. It was a tight ride.

We got home around 11 p.m. and the girls were wide awake. They finally went to sleep around 1 a.m.

My bed never felt so good.

Reinventing Myself

On Friday, I braved the snow and rain and trekked to Manhattan for a workshop on reinventing myself.

Ann Fry, an author and psychotherapist, led the workshop, which was sponsored by New York Women in Communications, Inc., which I'm a member.

Fry, who reinvented herself at 60, when she left Austin for NYC three years ago, went over six steps for how to reinvent oneself:

1. What do you want to STOP doing?

2. What you want to START doing?

3. What will you NOT allow people to stop you from doing?

4. What's your mantra?

5. How will you deal with uncertainty?

6. What do you need to celebrate?

In addition to the six steps, the 13 women in attendance talked about what makes our hearts sing? For me, it's research, organizing and planning. We talked about what it means to reinvent oneself: updating yourself, taking risks, hope and opportunity were some of the answers. We also discussed if we wait or take action. I take action.

Ann thought it was great that I took a buyout 11 days ago. When I introduced myself as an 11-year reporter, who recently took a buyout, she clapped. She also clapped when two other women said they'd been downsized. She said being forced into a situation where you have to change is the perfect opportunity to reinvent yourself. And I agree.

We ended the session by talking about our plans of action. Mine? I came home and started researching business plans for starting a tea party business. It's an idea I've tossed around in my head for a few months now. When I think about planning tea parties for little girls, brides-to-be or anyone who wants to have a tea party, it makes me smile. I want to move in a direction where I can't stop smiling. :)

New gig - sort of

I've only been unemployed two days and I already have a new gig.

For those who haven't been following my blog, I took a buyout from my newspaper on Wednesday. I've been a reporter for 11 years and spent the last five at The Star-Ledger. 

I met a friend for coffee this morning, who happens to be the Highland Park council president. She was talking about how she wants to throw an inauguration ball in New Jersey for people who don't want to travel to D.C. I told her that my husband and I tossed around this idea a couple of months ago when we were trying to decide my next career move.

I love to plan events. I took an event- and wedding-planning course in the spring and have been toying with the idea of starting an event-planning business. My husband thought the local inauguration ball could kick-off to my new career, but I didn't think we could pull it off because so many of my friends are journalists and are not allowed to endorse a candidate by attending a ball, and of our friends who aren't reporters, only a handful would probably be willing to pay upwards of $75 to attend an event. So, I tucked away the idea and we started making plans to go to D.C. next month.

But when my friend, who has connections, paying connections, all over the state, mentioned the idea this morning, my wheels started turning.

We pulled out pen and paper and started brainstorming. She had already talked with a friend who works at a Holiday Inn who promised her the "recession price" on a ballroom. She called him to let him know she was considering his offer and later in the day we were touring the space, which holds 1,000 standing. 

There are a million things to do between now and Jan. 20 and things happened so fast today, but it just feels right. I'm not sure where this gig will take me - more event planning, clients for freelance work, who knows. But I thought it was too good not to have my name on it. I never want to miss out on an opportunity.

Filing for unemployment

I filed for unemployment this morning, the first day in 13 years that I don't have a job. I've never filed for unemployment before and have never known anyone who has had to file, so this is a big step for me.

I'm going to be honest here, I've always associated unemployment with negative images - a woman with five kids trying to get over on the system or someone who really isn't disabled, but filed for disability because he just doesn't want to work. I never thought someone like  me - a college-educated middle class reporter, who's married to a college-educated, middle-class engineer - would ever have to file for unemployment, but I don't have a job.

I'm getting a generous severance package from my previous employer, so the thought did cross my mind not to apply. But I've been working more than a decade and part of the taxes I pay goes to fund unemployment, so that money is owed to me.

So, filing was the first thing I did this morning. It was an easy process; I did it online, sitting on my couch in my robe. After I filled out the forms, which required me to explain that my newspaper downsized 250 positions and that I was willing to work now and that I'm actively looking for a job, I received a notice saying I successfully filled out the paperwork. I have a re-employment orientation meeting Feb. 20, where I will meet with someone who will help me find a job. I start getting the weekly checks after the meeting, but the first check will be retroactive. And I was pleasantly surprised at the amount, $560 a week after taxes!

Even though I'm just one day into unemployment, I'm already looking forward to finding another job. I'm not the type who likes to sit around and watch talk shows all day. I had five days off around Thanksgiving and by day three I was going crazy. So, I can't imagine sitting around the house sane for more than a month or so. Until I find another job, I plan to freelance and volunteer at my church's office.

Wish me luck!

The end of an era

Today is my last day as a working journalist.

I've spent the last five-plus years as a reporter for The Star-Ledger, the best and largest paper in New Jersey. When I moved from Tennessee to New Jersey eight years ago, I had never heard of The Ledger, but I quickly learned that if I was going to continue to be a journalist in the Garden State, then The Ledger is where I needed to be. And since landing at The Ledger, I've worked with some of the most talented editors and reporters in the industry and for that, I'm eternally grateful.

But the news industry is just too unstable to warrant me staying. The owners offered buyouts  - one year's salary and benefits - and it was just too good to turn down. So, today, along with 30 other reporters, photographers and editors, is the end of an era. By the end of the year, 152 newsroom employees would have left The Ledger.

I wasn't sure how I would feel this morning and disappointingly, I felt nothing when my alarm clock went off at 9 a.m. (journalists are not 8-5 folks). I drove to work, walked into the office and still nothing. I wanted to be weepy, sorry, sad, something, but nothing. Even after my going-away lunch with my bureau and the larger going-away dinner with the other journalists who left today, still nothing.

I'm fearful that one morning in the near future I may wake in a panic with tears streaming down my face. For the last 11 years, 13 if you count my junior and senior years in college, I've defined myself as a reporter. I am no longer a reporter. My husband says I am a reporter - just an unemployed one - but still a reporter.

Some people say their job is not who they are, but what they do. But journalism was who I am. It's instilled in my bones, in my heart. 

I'm not sure where life is going to take me or where I will land, but I hope it's just as fulfilling as journalism.

Time to be thankful

It's that time of the year when everyone thinks about what they are thankful for, so here's my list.

• My husband.  We've been married a little more than four years and I am thankful that the happy days outnumber the sad ones. He is my best friend.
• My family.  I could not imagine not talking with my sisters and parents several times a week. They are the best!
• My in-laws. Even though I am spending the holiday away from my parents and sisters, I am thankful for my in-laws. I am thankful that my in-laws and I have a great relationship and I actually look forward to spending time with them.
• My job. While I took a buyout from the newspaper and my last day is Dec . 10, I am thankful that for the last five+ years I've worked for a thoughtful family who offered their employees generous buyouts rather than laying us off without a severance package.
• Friends. I have dear friends from childhood, college and later in life who help to fulfill my life.
• Spanx. After not losing the weight I planned in anticipation of Friday's formal event, I'm thankful for the Spanx that will help hold in my stomach.
• Cheap gas.  After paying upwards of $3.69 a gallon for gas over the summer, I'm thankful that I filled up for $1.99 a gallon today for supreme.
• The spa. I try to get a facial every six to eight weeks. I'm going Friday and can't wait to pamper myself.
• Reality TV. It's my guilty pleasure.
• Car washes. When my car is clean, it makes me smile :)
• President-Elect Barack Obama. I'm thankful for the hope he has brought and will bring in 2009.

What are you thankful for?

The DINKS are getting kids

My husband and I are DINKS - Double  Income No Kids. And we like it that way because we love our freedom - financial freedom, travel freedom, everything freedom.

But things are changing, temporarily.

My two nieces, age seven and 15 months, will be staying with us the last week of the year. My older sister, the mother of the girls, and my mother were on the phone one night, when my sister asked my mother if the girls could stay in Memphis the last week of the year because she and her husband have to return to work and the girls' school and daycare are closed that week.

Since I took a buyout from my job at the paper (my last day is Dec. 10) I jumped at the opportunity to take care of my nieces, who I see about four times a year since they live in Ohio.  My mother voiced immediate concern over the girls staying with my husband and me for a week.

"It's not just a weekend," she warned, probably remembering how I complained about how Kaylee, the youngest, ran me wild when I saw her Labor Day weekend.  She's at that age where everything is a toy that she MUST touch.

While we don't want kids, we do love them, and I cannot wait to take care of the Kendall and Kaylee.  I'm looking forward to spending more than just the weekend with them.  We're going to have true quality time. We will spend our days at the library, Barnes and Nobel and exploring New York City. Kendall is already talking about visiting the Statue of Liberty and is excited to ride the subway.

Kaylee will be too young to remember her first week in Jersey, but hopefully, Kendall will remember this week for life. 

Good or bad, I know I will.

Race matters

Sometimes, it's not about race. But today, it is.

It's the day after our nation elected Barack Obama, who will serve as the first black president of the United States of America, and I'm still stunned by his sweeping victory. While this win will be savored by Democrats, the Republicans who just couldn't vote their party line and the countries around the world who were rooting for the senator, black Americans will probably relish in this victory the most.

And I want blacks to celebrate harder, longer and with tears in our eyes because of our history in America. Our history of slavery. Our history of segregation. Our history of beatings, hangings, burnings and mutilations because of the color of our skin. Our history of being denied to vote. Our history of unequal opportunities for good schools, fair housing and well-paying jobs. And to think some of that violent, sad history was as recent as 40 years ago. But what's even more disheartening, is that some of that "history" still goes on today.

But even with that history, because of Obama's win, when my 7-year-old niece looks into my eyes and asks if she can be president of the United States, I can finally say "yes."

Because of Obama's win, little black boys, raised by single mothers, will finally have a role model.

And maybe I'm stretching here, but it's my hope that gun-toting blacks, who drive up black-on-black crime statistics, will think twice before pulling the trigger because of Obama's win.

People who didn't have hope before yesterday, now have something to grab on to.

It is amazing to think that come Jan. 20, our nation will be led by a black man - a black man who 143 years ago could have been a slave. America took baby steps in getting to where we are today. It took 44 presidents to elect a black man and he will have a presidency like no other. Not only because the economy has tanked; our troops are fighting two senseless wars and millions of Americas need health care, but because most blacks have to work twice as hard to get half as far. So, some people will hold Obama to a higher standard than previous presidents. I wouldn't wish the weight Obama carries on his shoulder on my worse enemy.

But Obama warned Americans last night that it could take longer than one year or maybe even one term to get the nation back on track. It took President George W. Bush eight years to make his mess, so Obama shouldn't be expected to clean it up overnight.

But even before the first national problem is addressed, Obama is well on his way to fixing the problem of hopelessness in black Americans.

History was made today

I am not a morning person, but I was wide awake at 5:15 this morning, eager to get to the voting booth. Since Barack Obama was named the Democratic presidential nominee, I have been looking forward to Nov. 4.

I vote in every election, and when I say, every, I mean every. With a mother who is a retired American History teacher, my degree in African-American Studies and just being a black woman, I know my people's history when it comes to voting - or being denied to vote. And because of that, I never miss an election - casting my ballot is something I take very seriously.

I arrived at the polling location at 6 a.m. and there were already hundreds of people waiting in line. I live in a majority black neighborhood, so most of the people in line were black.

I just smiled. I stopped. I looked at the line. I took it all in.

Never before, in my 15-year voting history, have I seen such a sight: Proud black people who could not wait to vote. I was nearly moved to tears.

Everyone was friendly. People were laughing and talking. There were no strangers in line. We were one family on a mission - to elect Obama. I don't want to assume that just because people are black that they're going to vote for Obama, but everyone around me was an Obama supporter.

I spoke with an 18-year-old who was voting for the first time. She did her part today in making history.

I talked with a 60-year-old who has voted the last 30 years.

"Today is different," he said.

Different in a good way, I thought.

I am only 33 years old and I never thought I would have the chance to vote for a black man for the president of the United States, so I cannot imagine how people my parents and grandparents age feel today.

I have always been proud of my race, my history filled with struggles, challenges and successes. But today, "proud" is too weak a word to describe how I feel. I'm walking a little taller. I'm smiling a little wider. No matter the outcome, today, I made history.