Jello Break

I signed up for the Scintilla Project a few days ago. This is a two-week long series of of daily writing prompts for anyone who wants to write, discover, learn or connect through stories. Last year I signed up for it and wrote not one post. This year I want to give it another try. Want to get some flow going with Juice Break. Here goes!

So...the first prompts from March 13: Tell about a time you were drunk before you were of legal drinking age. Or tell a story from your first job. I'll go with getting drunk on my first job. No. Just kidding.  Far from it.

My first job was working as a tray girl at Ravenswood Hospital, just a few blocks from my home in Chicago. I was 14 or 15 and the job paid 90 cents per hour.

Looking back, I can now trace my happiness/love/need of work to this first job. So many things about it that fed a need in hungry, young me.

Order. There was a prescribed routine and structure. It happened every day, same time/same place. Took the bus straight to the hospital after school, changed into my uniform; a crisp, clean, gray, short-sleeved shirtwaist dress with white collar, cuffs and apron.

We worked in groups of 4-5 girls, each team serving a different floor of the hospital. We'd get our patient count for the day then set up our trays with paper liners and silverware. We'd stack them neatly in the big rolling, vertical racks. The hot-food cart for each floor was pre-loaded with the meat du jour plus mashed potatoes, gravy, assorted veggies and soup and clear broth.

Jello was a staple at the hospital and before we could head up to our floor we had to make the Jello. Grab a gigantic metal pan of smooth green, yellow, orange or red. Carve it up and spoon the shiny, slippery cubes into the little plastic serving bowls. Fun. Orderly. Meticulous.

Loaded with food and trays, we took the service elevator up to our assigned floor. The little team worked  to assemble the meals; bland, soft, liquid, regular, sugar-free, low sodium. Little pots of coffee or hot water. Some patients got desserts like apple crisp or pudding. Like it or not, everybody got Jello.

We had an assembly line and as the set-ups were completed some of us walked around delivering the meals. During dinner we cleaned up the kitchen and the food cart, then went around and picked up the trays and got everything back in order. Once our floor kitchen and the cart passed inspection, we hauled everything back down to the big kitchen and we were done.

I think the whole process took about 2-3 hours. I loved it. Our supervisor was  a little, gray haired lady with a bit of an Irish lilt. (She wore a little gray uniform, too.) She was our housemother. A sweetie. I liked that if I worked hard and did a good job she noticed. I liked being noticed and it felt like she cared about me. I liked that she counted on me. I felt like somebody.

In most parts of my life I didn't feel good enough, clean enough; didn't have the right clothes. Didn't know the right thing to say. Didn't feel I mattered. But at the hospital I knew the drill, could fit right in and do a good job. I felt safe. I was never late for work, never called in sick. Never let them down and they didn't let me down.  And thus I learned to count on work.

The writing prompt for today wants a "story" from that first job. Hmmm. When you are totally focused on doing what you're supposed to do, following the rules and routine, there's little room for fun or stories. And that in itself is an interesting observation.

A story of sorts: one hot summer day (no air conditioning in the hospital kitchen) I remember walking into the cooler to get the Jello. I got in there and stopped. Leaned back and just took in the cool. Broke the routine and the rush. It was a Jello break.

All these years later here I am at Juice Break, still trying to break from the routine and the rush and spend a little more time on my own stuff. And thanks to today's writing prompt I did! It's a start.

Playing dumb. It's just not smart.

I expected to like, even love, the new series of Allstate ads, The UnReal Adventures of Ted and Traci. The series of short videos features Barbie-and-Ken-type dolls enacting everyday mishaps; getting into a fender bender, burning something in the oven, fire in the backyard barbecue. Love the idea of something fun, something different. I thought the the Allstate Mayhem ads were brilliant and I was excited to see this new series. Sadly, The UnReal Adventures of Ted and Traci miss the mark for me.

Where as Mayhem was smart, engaging, funny though terrifying, I found Ted and Traci naive, predictable and their actions just too dumb to be entertaining or scary. 

Distracted driving is a huge and serious problem. Deadly serious. But showing any driver, doll or stunt person, doing yoga poses on top of a car is just too far a stretch (no pun intended.) Too easy for a viewer to say, "Oh, I would never do that. I mean, sure, I talk on the phone, read texts, put on makeup, but it's not the same." I can't relate to these ads. Can't see myself or anyone I know in them.  

Compare Traci http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gsOoKMphOc&feature=player_embedded

with Mayhem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BlfinjxFEYI

I'm not against using dumb in ads but dumb is hard to do smart. What makes the Geico lizard or the AFLAC duck work? Or Progressive's Flo? Not the sharpest pencil in the box but the Flo ads are still in play. 

To Allstate's credit the ads look good, the punch lines are clever and the episodes manage to highlight various lines of coverage. I applaud the team for trying something different. 

My old boss used to say, "Never put two 'cutes' in an ad. They cancel each other out." Maybe you can't put two 'simples' or two 'dumbs' in an ad. The combo of the childish execution with overly simplistic stories cancels out the engagement factor. 

Happy 4th, friends! Don't do anything dumb out there!

Card for Erica

I made this card for Erica on her first mother's day 11 years ago. I still love how it came together. And still so proud of the great mom Erica is to her three daughters. Happy Mother's Day indeed. 

Erica and me

Erica, the new mom

Health, Wealth & Happiness

For about 12 years now J and I have given a bottle of wine and a 14-bean soup mix as a holiday gift to family and friends. Supposedly eating beans and grapes (the wine) on New Year's Day will bring health, wealth and happiness in the year ahead...and we can't think of a better wish.

After a few years of doing this, we began to wonder if the recipients actually made and ate the soup; did they even like bean soup? I imagined some folks with years of beans stacked up in the cupboard.

One year we decided to change it up a bit, and instead gave an Italian-themed gift, with wine, pasta and spaghetti sauce. To our surprise, it didn't go over well. Turns out they missed the tradition. They liked it. They actually liked it. So, now, it's a given...and it makes me happy to see the gifts lined up, ready to go.

Every year I design a new recipe card to tuck in with the soup mix. Just for fun, here's a look at some of those cards.

Christmas 2000 - a simple start

2001

Christmas 2004

 

Hope your holiday prep is going well. Looking to make 2012 a great year? Here's the recipe:

The Things I'll Keep: Goodbye Braxton

So sad that Braxton Seafood Grill in Oakbrook is closing today.

So many good times there. Graham and Claudia introduced us to Braxton at least 10 years ago, and it's been our favored place to meet them for birthdays, special celebrations and impromptu Friday night dinners ever since. It's been an integral part of our friendship, the backdrop for so many of our shared memories. It's our place. 

It's also been the default meeting place for the book club Claudia and I started many books ago. At first we met at different restaurants every month — Maggianos, Pappadeaux, Egg Harbor, Cheesecake Factory — until one day we met at Braxton. Not too noisy, good food, good location, classic decor, solid. It just felt right and we knew we'd found a home. Our group met there so many times after that we teased about putting a name plate on one of the Godfather-like, curtained alcoves where we were often seated. "Braxton Book Club, est. 2002."

When Claudia heard rumors a month or so ago that it was closing, we met her and Graham for one last dinner at Braxton. Good time as always, if not a little sweeter because we knew this was it. We asked our waiter to wrap up a couple of coffee mugs as mementos.

Thinking about it all now on the day they close, drinking coffee from that mug. Smiling, tearing up.

I'd really never noticed before, but this is a classy, cool mug! It's super strong, solid and spirited; feels different. I want to keep it and the memories it holds forever.

They say they will reopen in a new, yet-to-be-discovered location.... We'll see. I hope so. In any case, wishing all the best to the owners and staff at Braxton in Oakbrook. You created something wonderful and extraordinary. Thank you.

It Came From the Basement: Knowing What Counts

My mother believed in saving every penny she got. Literally. She spent money, of course. Other coins and bills, sure. But never a penny. If she caught me spending one she would reprimand me, "Don't you ever spend a penny! That's a sacrilege!" To this day I can hear her when I've got a penny in my hand and I'm deciding whether to hand it to a clerk or hold on to it.

She saved her pennies in two-pound coffee cans. It was always a bit of a joke, a cute little quirk. No one cares about pennies. But when money was tight and one of us kids needed something, Mom and the pennies came through. She paid for my wedding dress with pennies.

Cleaning the basement I came across the last of the coffee cans she left with me when she moved to Florida. Too heavy to move, she said. She instructed me that after she died I was to give each grandchild a coffee can of pennies so they, too, would know, "Pennies count."

I remember putting them in the basement. Surprisingly heavy, awkward, we carried them downstairs, one can at a time. Hauling them upstairs now that we're cleaning the basement, I had forgotten how heavy they were. The scale says 18 pounds but I don't believe it.

My mom died 12 years ago and most of the grandkids received their "inheritance" (about $36 per can give or take a few cents) shortly after that. For whatever reason I never finished giving out the pennies but the time has come.

Some things from the basement are harder to let go of than others. I struggle with the thought of the pennies just out there, their power dissipated. I want the grandchildren and great-grandchildren she never met to know what Mom knew about patience and persistence; about knowing what counts.

And she thought no one cared about pennies.

Cleaning the Basement

For several years now J and I have talked about it, but could not carve out the time and commitment to tackle our basement. You know how it goes. We've rehabbed, redecorated, redone every room in this old house, but not the basement. This spring we decided, it's time.

I don't need to go into detail about what's been evolving done there for the past 23 years. Just stuff. The stuff of raising kids, making a home, hobbies, interests, dreams x 4. Empty nesting, holding on, losing parents, letting go.

It's not easy, cleaning the basement. It's dark and dirty, musty and murky. So heavy with  things "done and left undone." It wipes me out and it is taking everything I have to stay on this. But I want to be free of all this stuff. It's gotten too heavy. So on this long holiday weekend there will be no rest in the Ryan home. We're cleaning the basement.

As bad as it is, this experience has inspired me with new ideas for Juice Break.

Coming soon...

"It Came From The Basement" and "The Things I'll Keep"

Heading downstairs. If you don't hear from me in the next few days, send help.