by Christine | Life, Observations
thanks to mortonqlanglinaiss.blogspot.com
There are some people who are always seeking joy. For the optimists, and I definitely include myself in that group, everything will always work out. The money will be there, the vacation will happen, the book will sell. If it doesn’t work out in the way they hope, then something better will come along and take care of things.
Then there are those who go through life guarded against disappointment. They worry a lot. It’s more of, this is what I’ll have to do because the money isn’t there. We’ll be lucky to take a vacation next year. Selling a book is a crapshoot.
I understand the pessimist’s viewpoint – or as a friend of mine would say, the “realist’s” viewpoint. They’ve been burned. Life’s hit them over the head a time or two, and they’re just hoping that nothing jumps out at them and swings the bat one more time. I get it. I sympathize.
But I can’t live that way. I HAVE to generate positivity. It’s hard-wired in me, like my green eyes and slender ankles. As I get older, I’m getting more mellow about it, too. I love surprising people – holding the door open for someone younger than me with their hands full, and giving them a warm smile. Waving folks into traffic ahead of me. Chatting in an upbeat manner to complete strangers. 
I find that I like positivity in my online life, too. I’ve actually un-followed people on Twitter because of the language they’d use, and the negativity they sprayed on my day. I’m no prude – I can fling epithets around with the best of them, but I don’t want to see them on Twitter from people I barely know, ranting about their personal life. (That’s what a blog is for, lol!)
Cheerful people, on line and in person, uplift my day. Make me more able to go about with a smile on my face. Cheerful people generate a feeling of well-being in others. I am gung-ho about cheer, and positivity, and making my little corner of the world a sunnier place.
Which are you? A “realist” or an “optimist”?
by Christine | Life, Writing
It happened like this. I was preparing for our vacation the day before we left. I’d been running errands all day, dashing hither, hopping yon, and it was a hot day so I was in lime green shorts, a black tee shirt, and a fine layer of sweat.
I’d just gotten back from my umpteenth shopping trip when the phone rang. It was a very good friend of mine. Here’s how the conversation went down.
“Hi Christine. Do you still need a job?”
“Um. Yeah. I guess so.” (Wary – I love my girlfriend, but sometimes…)
“Then take down this number. Call him right now. He needs someone right away as his secretary is retiring.”
Now my brain is kicking in gear. “Where are they, what do they do, how much do they pay, yada yada?”
“They’re in my building, five geologists who deal with water, $XX, and they’re all really nice guys. They’d be thrilled to have someone like you.”
Decision time. Even with a broken leg, I do need a job and I don’t want to go back to retail.
“Give me the number. By the way, I have a broken leg.”
*shrieks* *gives me the number* “Call RIGHT NOW.”
“Okay, okay. I’m calling.” I hang up. Sheesh. It’s two-something on a hot Friday afternoon. After fortifying myself with a cup of coffee, I call the number and am soon connected.
“Hi. My name is Christine, and my friend T. told me to call you about a job opening.”
“Wow Christine. I just got back upstairs from talking to her.”
*Cut – we did a lot of jabbering about the job, and about my quals. I tell him about the broken leg, and that I’m going on vacation the next day, but if he wants to see me this afternoon I’d come down, lime green shorts, sweat and all. He agrees.*
So I print out the resume, wash my face, and head on out. To Studio City. A 40 minute drive. Once I get there, I can see what my friend meant when she said it was a cozy place – a smattering of offices, conference room, tiny kitchen and bathrooms. Barely big enough to swing a cat in, but still, nice with a buzz of busy.
The interview goes well. What REALLY makes my day are the huge empty wine bottles (jeraboam (sp) size, I think) scattered around the office. We knock off all the important stuff about the job and then settle into a wine discussion, and one about chocolate, and how every now and then he has “seminars” on Friday afternoons involving cheese, crackers, and one bottle of wine shared out amongst whomever is in the office…
When I left, we were mutually delighted with each other. While I was on vacation, I heard from my references that they’d been contacted that Monday; on Tuesday I received a call asking me to come in on Monday the 15th for a second interview. My girlfriend T told me to be prepared to stay all day.
Upshot? I walked in Monday, we zipped through all the info, he made me a job offer, and I started working that same morning. As day jobs go, I landed a beauty.
I haven’t had a steady, 8-5, M-F job since – Um…2001??? BEFORE I became a writer. The challenge now will be grabbing the time to write, and not letting that part of my life just slip away. It means too much to me now.
I guess I need to study for my Super Writer Powers of Time Manipulation…
Tomorrow is Friday, so another wine blog is coming your way. Cheers all, and remember – drink responsibly!
by Christine | Wine Friday
Tasting cheap wines, so you don’t have to! I’m your guide to good wines under $10 a bottle, most of which can be found in your local grocery store.
A lot of people look horrified when I pull a bottle of red wine out of my refrigerator, so I thought I’d briefly discuss wine temperature. (Not storage – I don’t store wine. It’s better to drink now, yes?)
Centuries ago, wines were stored in cellars and served room temperature. However, you must consider the times – “room temperature” could very well be 54 degrees F. During the summer, my kitchen temperature tends to hover in the high 70’s low 80’s. So the all-thinking wine gurus have made this pronouncement: A bottle of red wine should be chilled for 20 minutes prior to serving. A bottle of white wine should be well-chilled, but taken out of the refrigerator 20 minutes prior to serving. Makes sense when they put it that way.
Anyway, I’ve got two different Chianti wines for you today – two more to come later. (I’ve discovered a broken leg and wine don’t really go together. Makes me a bit too tippy, if you understand! So my wine consumption has been scaled back. Sorry!)
D’Aquino Chianti Product of Italy Bottled by Vltra-Firenze-Italy 12.5% Alcohol by volume $6.99 at Vons
The label was uninformative, just the way I like ’em. The bottle is straw-wrapped – what you expect from an Italian wine. It remains one of those feel-good bottles wrapped up in not only straw, but memories of young love. But enough about the bottle. What about the wine?
The epitome of bland. If you want a red wine but don’t want to have to think too much about it, don’t want it big and bold and in your face, then this is your wine. It’s quiet. Inexpensive. A good bottle for beginning wine drinkers. An easy bottle for a picnic.
We’ve had it a couple of times now, once with chicken, once with fish. See? It goes with just about everything. Chianti isn’t just for Italian food any more. And…that’s about all I can say about this wine.
My Rating: ~Drinkable~ but kind of boring. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!
Castello di Gabbiano Chianti 2009 Product of Italy Denominazione de Origine Controllata e Garantita 12.5% Alcohol by volume Under $9 at Vons
On the Label: “The 12th Century Castello di Gabbiano Estate is located in the heart of renowned Chianti Classico region. The Gabbiano Knight, or Cavaliere, protected the Estate and embodies the tradition of winemaking excellence. Today, the Cavaliere vividly symbolizes the robust charm and tradition of the Chianti region, which has been recognized through the centuries as the birthplace of fabulous wine and cuisine. Gabbiano Chianti has invigorating flavors of cherry and spice, and complements a wide variety of cuisine, including pasta dishes, grilled meats and pizza.”
This wine is more of what I think of when I think Chianti. Bigger, but not off-putting, with nice fruit on the tongue. It adds to the meal rather than merely complements it. It’ll stand up to the more robust dishes of autumn and winter, but goes perfectly well with pizza (which is how we had it). If you’re looking for a nice Chianti, Gabbiano has several different ones in varying price ranges to fit your purse or your gift-giving needs. This is the least expensive, and I know it was on special for around $7 but I don’t have my receipt with me, darn it. Usually runs $9.99.
My Rating: ~Very Drinkable~
Regarding Hannibal; I haven’t seen Silence of the Lambs, but I’ve heard way too many impersonations of Hannibal talking about “a nice Chianti”. Privately, I suspect that movie caused more than one person to avoid the wine for several months – if not years – afterwards. I don’t know why I’ve avoided it, but it was past time to search it out again. Two more Chiantis coming your way in a few weeks.
As usual, this is all my opinion. Wine ratings depend on the phase of the moon, what kind of mood the cat is in, and which stringed instrument the hubby is playing as I type. Your taste buds will vary.
~ Thanks for dropping by, and remember – Drink Responsibly! ~
by Christine | Life, Writing
<Begin Rant>
This has not been the easiest year for me. Back in December, a major life-changer happened to me, which slowed me waaaay down in many, many ways.
But it’s seven months on now. I should be back up to speed. I should be dancing in the streets, getting fitter than ever, and having parties. Right? Well…
The dizziness is still there, but the latest MRI shows no reason for it, and I’m in limbo until the docs at Neurology decide where I really belong. In the meantime, I’m not sure if my surgeon’s office managed to get the paperwork back to disability on time – if it’s not there by tomorrow, I’m off disability which really sucks. Why? A job I went for, that I really wanted, was given to another person – and truly, it should have been given to that person, so there you go, but the steady income would have been nice. And then, on Friday, I broke my fibula, way down by my ankle.
This is about where I broke mine, on my left leg.
Say what? How? Um…would you believe, walking? I didn’t trip over anything. I didn’t stumble. My ankle just refused, went POP! – and down I went, in absolutely the most pain I can ever remember being in. Of course, I was alone in the house. Isn’t that always the way? Hopping everywhere HURT like hell. Crawling was good, but slow – and hard to carry anything when you crawl. Seriously. So I suffered, with an icepack on my ankle, propped up, and watching the news until one of my sons came home.
An early trip to the doc on Saturday proved it to be broken, when I had been sure it was just a terrible sprain. No such luck (but then, terrible sprains are known to be harder to heal than broken bones…so…?). They gave me an airsoft cast, crutches, and a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. Everything I’m seeing on the internet tells me it’s a 6 to 8 week recovery time, with NO WEIGHT on the foot. That’s totally rubbish and I refuse to follow this advice what I expected; but now that I have crutches, I hate them. HATE them.
Seriously? You give a girl, who’s already dizzy 85% of the time, a pair of crutches? Someone who’s not totally sure where the ground is at any given time, and you want me to take BOTH FEET off the ground and rely on TWO STICKS shoved into my now-aching armpits? SERIOUSLY?!!! Are you DELUSIONAL, or is it just me?
Yeah, there’ve been some falling issues. As in, using the damned crutches, I’ve totally lost my balance and fallen flat on my face. More than once. Luckily inside and on carpet, but still. Oh, and I’ve fallen into the bathroom sink, and sideways into a doorway…you know, now that I think about it, that’s a lot of falling for less than 24 hours. So I use the damned things but it’s crutch, step-step. Crutch, step-step. Not ideal and I recognize that.
I’m hoping against hell that the docs next week give me a walking cast of some sort. I am DESPERATE to keep both feet on the ground, and a wheelchair WILL NOT WORK in my house. It was built in the 1960’s – narrow hallways, 30″ doorways, and all. Not to mention the 16 years’ worth of clutter we’ve piled around the house. It’s all a trap for the unwary. (Why, suddenly, do I feel a need to get rid of 50% of our furniture?)
So while I’m in full pout mode, I’m trying to be a good girl. Getting up infrequently. Using my crutches properly most of the time. Keeping the leg elevated, and blah blah blah.
And I’m writing. It’s the only reason I can think of that I broke my ankle – the Universe wants me to sit on my ass and write instead of, oh, get a steady-paying job. And if disability is out the window? I keep telling the Universe that threats don’t make a writer more productive. At least, they don’t make THIS writer more productive.
I’m trying hard not to snarl and bite at my family, especially my poor hubby who did NOT need me crippled at this point in time. He’s feeling quite put-upon, even while he realizes I feel the same thing a thousand times more than he does.
So I’m saving snarling and biting for my work. Since I don’t get fancy cable (at almost $70/month, oh come on – it’s a time-wasting luxury), I only watch a couple soap operas during the day. The rest of my time (since I won’t be cleaning house any time soon) will be spent writing. I’m a captive to my work.
All in all, I’m okay with that. I just wish I didn’t have to go through the pain process. I’ve had more than enough of that this year.
I guess there’s only one thing left to do today…oh, hubby….could you please pour me a glass of wine? </end rant>
~ ~ ~
Have you read DEMON SOUL yet? You can find it at Crescent Moon Press or Amazon.com. Happy Reading!
by Christine | Life, Observations
The solstices have always been magical for me, even before I knew what they were. “The longest day of the year.” “The longest night of the year.” Both were magical times in my young mind, spurred on with many, many viewings of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. (Plus actually dancing in the full length ballet, years ago, with California Ballet Company down in San Diego, way before acting in two different productions of it. But that’s another story.)
Not only are the days themselves somewhat magical, but I also believe its a good time to enact change. Whether in your self, your routine, your environment, it’s the perfect time to shake things up, make things better. Some people use the calendar New Year to do so; others use back-to-school time to make changes. I’ve used those dates, too, but this year the Solstice seems right.
The biggest change for me? I’m going to really, truly believe in myself and go for what I want, which means there’s a story here for you. I’m on Twitter – not a lot, but often enough – and whenever Angela James (Carina Press) finds something awesome, I tend to check it out. Today, she found Tara and Tara’s Story. This so moved me that I sent the link to my closest writing group, the Los Angeles Romance Authors.
But Tara’s story basically built on stuff I’d been processing internally, via a video shared with LARA by Lynne Marshall, a lovely writer and neighbor of mine. And while this video took time to watch, it is definitely stirring and I sent it to my husband and sons, the most important people in my life.
It’s a TED video (I don’t know anything about them, but you might?) and the woman who speaks is funny, passionate, and wonderful.
So, here’s to change, scary as it may be. Here’s to being the most authentic you that you can be. And here’s to living a wonderful, helpful, serving life.
Happy Summer Solstice, everyone!
