City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

It has now been over a week that I have not been in the shop. I admit that I have thought about the shop, and have even allowed my telephone's answering machine vigilance to let one call ... from the shop ... to come through. In the big picture, I am glad that I did answer that call.
Will try not to think about the info that it imparted until my return to the work place.

So. What have I been doing?

How wonderful to be able to make up my own personal schedule every day! I wake early and ease into the morning as it suits me. Sometimes, even as the days do grow shorter, I awake before daylight, courtesy of the noise from the construction site across the street, that noisily seeks to create very costly housing to replace the apartments in which many families raised many generations.

There are still many of my interests (baking, cooking real meals, seeing some more of my old friends) that I have to attend to. But, I have been painting away each day, working on this year's watercolor Christmas cards. I do so love making these little paintings. What is tricky is to not rush them. To approach each card as its own creativity. I just listen to FM radio in the background, and settle in with my brushes, water and paints. And the paper, of course. Time melts.

All of a sudden, early morning has turned to lunch time. I stop. Make a quick lunch. Toasted cheese sandwich. Tea. Apple. Back to painting.

And then there is the reading. Milla and Jane have, for a longish time, recommended to me the books of David Mitchell. Well, I went into the fiction level stacks of my wonderful library and found four books by Mr. Mitchell. I checked out his first novel. Ghostwritten. And since opening the book have been treating myself to his enormous talent. I am usually a fast reader, but in this case have been able to temper that so I can really appreciate the writer's talent.

Yes, I do have other books still on my to read stack, but they must wait for now.

Many days last week were rainy here, even as the west coast was partched and fires raged. My uncle lives near San Diego, and did voluntarily evacuate his beautiful home. Luckily, he was able to return home to find unwelcome sooty debris the only damage. Still. I am so glad that he did not elect to wait it out at home. The fires came within two miles of his house!

On the housing front, the new owners of this apartment building continue to post messages announcing the latest stages of their renovation plans. Updating the electrical infrastructure is now underway, necessitating the sealing of the stairway nearest "my" front door. The building does have three elevators, but I have preferred just walking down the stairs as the quickest way to the ground floor. Now, I must use an alternate staircase or just wait, and wait, for the elevator.

There is a chance that this electrical improvement may require entry to my own apartment, but I am promised prior notification.

In my heart, I feel that the renovation and its aftermath (the conversion of the building to a condominium/cooperative financial status) will not harm me, all the in-between stages do upset me.

So, today with my luxury of free time, I took a little trip down memory lane, via the express subway train, to the Brooklyn neighborhood where I lived in the early 1970's. It was extraordinary to see the changes since I last visited (maybe 10 years ago.)

My part of Brooklyn back then was made up of lots of brownstone houses (four stories tall) with the occasional governmental or other official-sort of building that would be about 10 stories. Well, not now. Many huge buildings have taken root across the old landscape. These are not architecturally beautiful buildings. They are just big. They have banks, or chain drugstores, or real estate firm offices on their ground floors.

I walked over to take a look at my old block. Many of the houses, including the one in which I lived, now have little plaques by their front door, that extol their status as historic land-marked buildings. My former residence was build in 1848. That is old by New York standards.

Across the street where I remember vacant lots, now stand new townhouses. Bland. Same height as the 1848 houses, but oh so bland. Sort of tepid variations of Michael Graves architecture. But the entire block now looks very, very expensive.

The biggest shock was what I saw covering the front door (parlor floor, or first floor level, UK style.) A very elaborate, but very strong and off-putting black wrought iron gate. The house now has its residents in jail. There is irony here, because back when I lived there, we joked about the Brooklyn House of Detention (i.e. a very tall jail) that was at the end of our block. Every now and then someone escaped, and there would be police all over the place, but mostly, it was just a very sad place where family members lined up around the block to see their detained loved ones during visiting hours.

So. Today, I saw what gentrification can do to a neighborhood in thirty years. Glamorized some parts. Mostly those parts that are bought and paid for, and safely enclosed behind iron bars. Back in the 1970's, we did not have a gate across our front door. We were artists, writers, film-makers to be, without much worth stealing. We had mainly our talents and our dreams of creating something we would be proud of.

I do wonder who now lives behind that wrought iron gate.

After this revelation, I walked back to the subway station, came back under the river to Manhattan, stopped by a great little coffee place to get some of their house blend (on sale) ground for my French press coffee maker. Then, back on another subway train, with David Mitchell's magic words, uptown to my current neighborhood. And I continued my painting.

Pleasant dreams to all.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

Can you all imagine it? I am now into day three of a few weeks of vacation. I will not be traveling to any lovely distant location. The dollar is in the cellar. I will wait until it starts back up the steps again before packing my passport and suitcase.

Meanwhile, I am so enjoying being able to be a tourist in my own home town. The answering machine will screen out any calls fromt the shop and I won't look at any e-mails that might be from a job-related source. Bliss!

Even though I valiantly tried to tie up the little loose ends before departing the shop last week, I had to leave certain matters unresolved. My best efforts to close some issues did not receive timely responses from others, so ... I will not be available to futher pursue those resolutions.
Yippee!

Saturday, I stopped by the box office of a Broadway theatre to enquire re tickets for a Brit import that is due to officially open here during my time off. Tom Stoppard's Rock 'N' Roll, originally done at the Royal Court. Well. Lucky me got instant gratification and a ticket for a preview performance on that very Saturday night.

I am a Stoppard fan since seeing a ... preview performance decades ago of his "Rosencrantz...." and was curious to see this one, as I have known people who lived in Prague during the 1960's, love real rock n roll, and wanted to see the original cast in London, but could not afford to travel.

So, the original cast came to me! My last minute ticket placed me in the fourth row of the orchestra (stalls) big, expensive treat for me. I enjoyed the play very much, the ideas in it are provocative, the time frame continues my recent reflection on my early adulthood in the 1960's and 70's. The use of the music of the period and the specific "liner notes" from the important recordings just pushed lots of buttons in my memory lane.

Lots to think about with regard to revolutions, politics, honesty, male and female relations, just all sorts of stuff. Grand performances, especially by the leads, Brian Cox, Sinead Cusack and Rufus Sewell. Due my prized spot in row C, I was somewhat disconcerted at times during the play to find that Mr Sewell had focused his rather intense eyes upon me. Probably because most of the others in my high-priced area were white-haired, older even than I am, and probably were not reacting to the music with the same memories as I was.

I am relaxing more each day. Getting the required errands accomplished, but still finding time to actually do some painting. I have begun my individually painted watercolor Christmas cards. They do take lots of time to do, but I so enjoy making them each year, as each one is a special gift for folks that I have known for years.

This afternoon's painting session was jolted about 4 pm by what sounded like a drill coming through a wall of this apartment. The source of the roar and vibration was work being done in the vacant apartment next door to mine. I have mentioned that this building has recently been sold to new owners, who doubtless want to convert the building from rental apartments to condos or coops. So, when an apartment becomes empty, the demolition/renovation begins.

Now I realize what sounds I have been missing while at the shop! Even so, it is great to have some time off.

Tomorrow a friend and I will visit some galleries and have a lunch to talk, talk, talk. And eat and drink some, too. Then on Wednesday, another pal and I will go to a sample sale that we love to visit each year. The sale is held by a company that specializes in beautiful Italian leather goods and cashmere. Great styles and amazing bargains. Then, we too will have lots to talk about at another lunch.

And so, my leisurely time off will go forward.

I love getting up early in the morning knowing that the day will be filled with whatever I choose.

Pleasant dreams to all.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

It has been so long since I last posted anything here. Does this mean nothing has happened or that far too much has happened. Or that I have just been too pressed for time or too tired to write.

I think that it is probably some combination of all the excuses. My intention is always that this blog serves as a diary that I will share with others, so I do apologize for being a bit stingy as October arrived. It has been such pleasure to read what you all have written!

The shop has taken more and more of my time, and I am glad to say that our sales have been wonderful, morale has been high and much has been great.

In between the joy, however, I have been trying to help the transition back to service of my new-mom-assistant who will return before the month's end, while trying to transition out a staff member whose performance continues to need improvement, and simultaneously, try of figure out what will be the future of the superb lady who has been my acting assistant manager for the past months. I do not want to loose here talents, and all that she has contributed to the now "all together now" feel of the staff.

I am well aware that some of the candor that I have expressed to my superiors has not been happily received. I am now way too old to reconfigure my "corporate" face, so will just have to see what develops.

While all this was going on inside my work place, autumn has gradually been arriving in the City.
The Park is beginning to sort of dry out and crisp up, even though the lawns are still brilliantly green. We had a very rainy day this week that was swept out by an extremely windy day that blew in much cooler days. I took a walk through the Park on that windy day and saw all sorts of leaves on the paths and lawns, and suddenly came upon a sound check underway at the old bandshell. Check, Check, One two, One two.

Had my sketchbook with me, so sat on a bench and drew some trees, while shivering slightly and wondering what sorts of music was about to be performed in front of the motly bunch of observers (passing tourists, competing skateboarding teenaged boys ... not in school that afternoon, gliding rollerbladers looking for dance partners, dog walking folks and other non-descripts like me.) Turned out to be some sort of promo venture by an unknown record promoter, of a country blue grass band, a country rock female vocal group, and even more grim a stand up comedian from New Jersey.

The performers were in reverse order of the above list, and suddenly the weather turned cooler, I finished my tree drawing and headed home for a cup of tea.

Let's see, what else. Well, on a mid-week day off, I elected to take part in my company's effort to unite the IT department's efforts with its beneficiaries. I got invited to go to New Jersey (see reference above to comedian) to visit the HQ of the company's IT gurus. I had a fabulously instructive day and got lots of info to take back to the shop. Strangely, I got up extra early that day to be sure to get the proper train, etc, but early on trying to check my e-mails, discovered that this very laptop had caught a very bad cold overnight.

So, for the first time ever, I got on the phone to the Dell help line in whatever country those calls are answered. I got great, polite, skilled help. Or else we would not be communicating right now! It was a good way to begin a day devoted to seeing what a well-functioning IT department can do.

Now...big finish.

Tonight I will pack my bags for yet another multi-day set of managers meetings at an off site location...a conference center right in the flight path of a suburban airport. I will be up about 5 tomorrow morning so I can catch the proper train.

But. This afternoon, I had the privilege of attending an address, at famed Art Deco palace Radio City Music Hall, by H.H. the Dalai Lama. I was given a ticket by a Tibetan work colleague and got to sit next to his family to share this experience.

I am not so enamoured of organized religions, but do think of myself as a fairly spiritual person, who does try to do good, and not to be swept away by negative thoughts or deeds. So, it was quite interesting to be in this grand hall, and to listen carefully to what the DL had to say.

I have read several of his books, but have not really studied Buddhism as such. I just feel tonight that I was in the presence of a very wise 72 year old man, who has traveled much, thought much, and has much to contribute. What he says is deceptively simple. I feel very much encouraged to continue to try to be a good version of myself. To not give up on a positive attitude towards life. To believe that the future will be better. To realize that everyone, even as he admitted, the DL can have have a bad day, or to be very irritated by some incident.

What a way to prepare for a series of business meetings, don't you think?

Pleasant dreams to all. See you later this week.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good morning from New York.

The calendars are whispering that September ends today, October begins tomorrow. How can this be true? I may have asked this question around this time of year, last year, but this year I do really mean it.

I am looking forward to a break in my usual schedule, and that break will begin mid-October. So much needs to be done before then. I suspect that many items on that long list will not be completed. Even so, a break will be welcome.

The past week flew past.

I had hoped to have lunch with a childhood friend, now resident in the U.K., while she was in New York visiting one of her sons. But, even though we had many e-mails planning the best day for this get together, it only took one staff member coming down with a very bad cold to squelch the lunch.

I was at least able to see my old pal and one of her very handsome sons for a brief, brief hug and chat at the shop. The shop was so busy, I had to keep breaking away from the catch-up conversation to go help customers. There was absolutely no way that I could have left the shop for a long lunch. I was disappointed, but if I am supposed to display responsibility to my staff, that is what I have to do.

On another day, I used half of my day off to attend a quarterly company meeting at the the company's showroom in the Garment District on Seventh Avenue. These meetings are unlike most other company meetings, in that stretching exercises and meditation minutes intersperse reports on spring fashions, quarterly sales, and profit-sharing estimates. We are having a very good year, and the profit sharing bonus looks to be very generous. More about that will be known in about six weeks.

We had our semi-annual special event in the shop on Thursday, offering refreshments, $25 off each purchase, a gift with each purchase, and the opportunity to help us support a worthy philanthropy that encourages leadership, rather than followship, in young girls. (We contribute 10% of the day's take to the charity.)

These events take a fair amount of planning, and the actual day is a very high energy, demanding, somewhat exhiliarating experience. On my way to the shop that day, I stopped into the bank to cash a petty cash reconciliation check for the prior month's expenses. As one does, I sort of zoned out in the bank queue, going through mental lists of event-related tasks ahead of me.

Then. From my right, I heard a male voice say, "Hello, Frances." I turned and saw a man smiling at me. He looked a bit familiar. Well. The man was someone with whom I lived for a number of years back in the 1970's.
He recognized me. I would not have recognized him otherwise. (This same scenario occured on a sidewalk about twelve years ago, and at time, I shamefully admit not knowing who he was even after he said his first name.)

On Thursday, I did speak to him for a little bit, wanting to be polite, but also wanting to flee. Finally, the bank teller said, "Next," and so I was able to say bye bye. Of course, when I was finished at the teller's window, he was still there waiting to talk some more. So, I did talk a little more, and then said that I really did have to get to work.

I left the bank in a daze, going through many memories, and thoughts of bridges crossed, forks in roads, all that sort of thing. I did wait for the "walk" sign before crossing the busy street, so I got to the store intact, if quite shaken.

The day was incredible, and I really had no more time to think of the encounter at the bank. We did about $32,000 in business. Wow.

I was so tired at the end of the day. Just spent.

Luckily, I had given myself the next day off. After getting through the usual errands, I pretty much vegetated in the late afternoon. That was luxury.

Back to work yesterday for another hectic nine hours. And I am still behind on various projects. And still cannot seem to convince my bosses that we need more staff. I am still in the dark as to what will really happen with regard to the return of my new mom assistant manager.

The week that begins today will be pivotal, if some of these staffing needs are to be addressed before my mid-month break. During the week prior to my vacation, I will be out of the store for four days of managers' meetings. So...that is really three weeks during which the shop will not have its manager (me) present. This may turn out to be all for the good. Especially if chaos erupts, as it very well may.

I do know that as long as I keep patching up the schedule, making sure that all runs smoothly, there is less incentive for anyone else to discover the joys of this level of responsible dedication. Opportunity is about to knock.

Hoping that you all will have a lovely Sunday.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good morning from sunny New York.

On such a crisp late summer day, I surely should be outside. And before long I will swap my indoor rubber flip flops for socks and sturdier shoes and have a long walk in the park.

But before then, taking advantage of a welcome bit of free time, I have been trying to sort out a number of experiences from the past few days. Sometimes, I wonder if I am in fact living several parallel lives. I do not mean this in sci-fi sort of way, but rather that I have my inner self-image, and continually find that my actual daily physical time seems to be lived by a totally different person.

Last Saturday, I went to see a small exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. My MOMA membership is about to expire and I do not plan to renew it immediately. So, I am trying to make a few quick visits before the end of October.

The exhibit I saw on Saturday was quite eccentric, and centered upon ten year's correspondence between a MOMA curator and a young artist who was trying to leave his Michigan university and family, and move to New York, find patronage and pursue his creativity. His correspondence was itself creative. None of it was an actual letter on stationery in an envelope. It could be a scroll, a tiny many-layers-of-folded tissue paper with a word on each fold, all sorts of formats.

My particular interest in the exhibit arose because in the decade following the period of the correspondence I knew the artist well. He had come to New York, continued to collect patrons, and to slowly create a new persona for himself, leaving his Michigan background very far in the background. He traveled to Japan, he was an artist in residence at a rather surprising choice, the Hudson Institute think tank. His fame grew from a number of successful "happenings," beautifully staged. Conceptual art can be awful. His was mostly magical. And always, he was very good at the self-promotion that can be essential for artists' survival.

Somewhere in this cramped apartment I have some little bits and pieces of his work that are perhaps as significant as anything on view at MOMA. Or perhaps they are not.

As time passed, our lives went in different directions. I would continue to see some of his gallery exhibits, at major NYC spots like Mary Boone Gallery, and see him in party photos in French "Vogue."

Looking at the pieces in the exhibit, I took a long meander down memory lane, and thought about what my life was like when I was in my late twenties. New York has never been a gentle place, but my memories do yield a collection of experiences that seem lighter, less cynical, maybe just younger.

I was actually alone in the MOMA gallery room the entire time that I looked at the show. I wonder how many other folks have visited the exhibit and had similar memories to mine. As I left the museum, I was still sort of not quite in the present tense, but full of contemplation. Having time for contemplation is a luxury for me these days.

Yesterday, Tuesday, was to be a day off for me. However, I had arranged a meeting to fit the schedule of a visiting top human resources lady, so that we could sit down, in a location outside the shop, to talk with one of my staff members, very seriously, about the need for her to improve her performance.

I had drafted a form that ultimately we would sign, regarding this need for improvement. My draft had been reviewed and very slightly revised by the HR lady. On Monday evening, I had taken home all the prior personnel files for this staff member. She has worked for the company for almost eight years. My company is very benevolent, often seeming to pride itself on rescue missions. I have been the manager of my shop for about a year and one half, and had intentionally not read old personnel file, preferring to form my own impressions of my staff.

Well. The eight-year file was full of prior need for improvement forms. It seemed as though over and over and over, prior managers had come to the edge of terminating the employee, and then pulled back. All the forms addressed failings similar to what my form detailed. I realized, that again, I was being called upon to be the "heavy." To do what others had not been able to do.

Yesterday's meeting went much as I anticipated it would. The staff member was defensive, and did not agree with much of what I had written, although she did accept some of the comments. She does not realize how much the pace and demands of the shop have changed, and that what might have been accepted four, five, six or even seven years ago, just will not cut it now. We asked that she think about the improvements that we had requested, and that we would meet again in two weeks to re-assess progress.

She then said that she was rather upset and did not want to go back to the store, but would like to take the rest of the day off. I told her several times, that of course she had that choice, but that making that choice was another example of letting down the rest of her colleagues. And that it meant that I would lose my day off, since someone would have to fill in for her and it was too late to make other arrangements. She stuck to her wish to go home and went home.

It was a very busy day. Customers were well served. We juggled priorities all day, more or less productively. The HR lady did come back to the shop also, and had a brief visit with each of those other staff members present. The earlier meeting remains a confidential matter, but of course everyone was buzzing with curiosity.

My plans for yesterday afternoon (glamorous grocery shopping, laundry and house cleaning were shelved. I have got some of those duties taken care of already today.

Inside my head, I still think of myself as the would be artist who left her childhood home to live in New York and enjoyed the comraderie of other like-minded folks. I am a person who actually makes art.

Ah, but the version of myself who jumps awake at the earliest light or alarm beep (whichever signals first) is quite another person. This person has difficult meetings during which she must harden her heart, this person does not make art, has a difficult time keeping up with creative friends, is thankful for continued good health and stamina, has found a way to support herself, often feels that the treadmill on which she daily runs keeps being set to faster and faster speeds. This is all the same person.

I expect that many of you who might read this feel or have felt similarly about your owns lives, althought the specifics vary. It is quite marvelous that we can be so supportive.

Still too early to wish you my usual pleasant dreams.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good evening from New York.

Yesterday started grey and muggy, but the heavy atmosphere was abruptly broken by a crackling afternoon thunderstorm. Today, the recipient of that that change was a gorgeous day.

Both days were originally scheduled as days off, but intervening commitments altered that plan.
I got half of each day free to get my laundry and grocery shopping done, plus meet up with a friend at a cafe and see how late summer is treating Central Park.

Yesterday afternoon's commitment was actually quite informative and entertaining. I got to attend a "fitting" session at my company's design center. The session involved about a dozen outfits that will be part of the Spring 2008 collection. Months ago, I had attended a brainstorming session at the same location that sort of kicked of the early stages of creating this seasonal collection, so it was quite an experience to see where those early notions had led.

I was present as sort of an auditor, observing how the design team would review the various ensembles that were to be modeled by two sample-sized ladies. The design team and other technical experts present would carefully look at the effect of each separate garment, and also how that piece worked with the other pieces being worn by the model. Critique was done. Notes and adjustments were made as deemed wise. Some pieces were judged to be absolutely fine and ok'd for final production.

What was really exciting was that every so often, the team would turn to me, as the only one present who actually works with customers on a daily basis, for my opinion. Both my personal esthetic opinion, but also what I felt would be the reaction of next spring's customers to the product. It was an amazing opportunity to have my say, and for the most part, I feel that I was both candid and diplomatic.

However, I am one who will speak my mind, as as someone who used to sew all my clothes, has followed decades of fashion trends, and just loves design, it was very difficult for me to praise anything that I truly thought was no good. So, I did give some "constructive" criticism on a few ensembles. I think that my words offended at least one or two members of the design team, who take themselves fairly seriously, and were not expecting to hear what I said. Too late now. I said what I said. (At the end of the session, I did speak to one of the veterans of the team, about whether I should take another look at a piece that I had deemed sort of soporific, and she said, Nah, don't worry about it. What you said was honestly what you felt. That's good for us to know.)

It really was fun. All sorts of notes were taken and computer entries made and photos clicked of various stages of the design decisions made. Being present gave me a much better notion of just what goes into creating a finished collection. I would love to attend another session, and hope that being outspoken will not result in my being banned.

This morning I was off to a very early meeting of store managers from my district. The agenda was very mixed, and as usual time ran out before all topics were covered. I did make a point of sort of cornering my boss's boss (who chaired the meeting) afterwards to try to sort out some matters that need sorting out to help my store to continue to be properly staffed. I think that I got my points across and also heard my boss's boss's points. We are not totally in agreement, but at least we better understand what situations do need attention.

This evening I am heavier by the consumption of several slices of various types of chocolate cakes, due to the generosity of my fellow managers at this morning's meeting and that of an afternoon cafe stay with friends. This was my 62nd birthday. It seems amazing to me that I could be this old, and now actually qualified to collect our country's Social Security (national pension plan with its iffy present and future funding.) There is no way that I plan to retire any time soon, but it is strangely comforting to know that I have crossed the line to qualify for the minimum amount of monthly payments.

Back to work tomorrow. Many challenges await. Even better, I also will have the day off on Saturday!

Pleasant dreams.

City Views, Country Dreams

Good morning from New York.

What a grey, muggy Monday has appeared unto us. It is the kind of dawn that does not energize. Well, it does not energize me.

I will try to counter that lethargy with my cups of strong coffee, and focus on presenting my favorite smells and sounds, as requested by Exmoor Jane. I will just toss them out as they occur to me.

One. Any form of cooking that involves brown sugar and melted butter creates an aroma that I find irresistible.

Two. Lavender, fresh, dried or making an appearance in soaps.

Three. King's College choir singing "Once in Royal David's City" will make me cry.

Four. Hearing almost any Bob Marley song will make me want to dance.

Five. Freshly ground strong coffee. Freshly brewed strong coffee.

Six. Hearing almost any word from a dear friend whom I've not heard from recently.

Seven. Fried bacon.

Eight. Bossa nova music played by my favorite street saxophonist, who plays in Central Park on moody, cloudy days.

Nine. Chocolate. Up close.

Ten. Ripe peaches.

Eleven. The sound and even the smell of being close to someone I love.

Twelve. The sound of laughter from someone I know, or even someone I do not know, particularly if it is a child's laugh. I include the sound of children giggling in this entry.

Any of the above would be a very welcome sensory signal. Many of them would make pleasant combinations, too.

I hope that you all will find that we share some of the twelve.

It is still grey and muggy, but I am feeling energized. Off to work!