Flying today; this, an explanation of why my palms are sweating profusely and my stomach aches in a way that nothing but reaching my destination will quell.

Last night’s travel anxiety nightmare had me accidentally flying to Miami instead of New Orleans, my destination of necessity. I am disconcerted by the fact that in reality, the only other flight on the board at my gate is indeed, to Miami, leaving at exactly the same time.

I am comforted by nothing but a good book when I fly. Even that doesn’t help with today’s high winds and resultant turbulence. Currently, on layover at my personal hell, Dulles airport. Soon, flying again hopefully landing in New Orleans, with a day of non-travel during this trip. I’ll already looking forward to the weekend.

The boy turns 18 today. The man? No, I don’t think so. Regardless of his voting eligibility and the draft card in his wallet, for me, he will remain the boy.

The husband said, “We’ve raised a child.”

Wait, whoa, hold on a minute, I think, have I remembered to teach him everything I should have? Have I armed him with enough information to keep him happy, healthy and secure into adulthood. Probably not.

A commercial came on for one of those rent-to-own joints. I told the boy never to rent anything to own; that it’s a ripoff. Apparently I’ve made this point before.

“If there’s anything you guys have taught me, it’s that,” he said wryly (I think).

We send our son off into the world an adult who, if nothing else, will never rent-to-own a piece of furniture or a television.

One day last week, I had several meetings around town, with appointments in between and therefore “camped” during and between connections with real, live C’villians. The result of this day? My entire caloric intake was from a variety of coffees and at day’s end had a caffiene-infused bloodstream.

Workcamping v. To stake out at coffeehouses with free or at least available wifi and work on a laptop until forced to leave by circumstances beyond one’s control.

Charlottesville Coffeehouses in which I’ve Worked: A Review

Java Java (downtown)
Wifi: Free and consistent
Coffee: Good. Try the Chai.
Food: Not really worth mentioning but dude, they have homemade Pop-Tarts.
Workability: Not bad. JJ is generally quiet but outlets are limited.
Atmosphere: Love the paint colors and the small alcove; quite cozy.
Parking: None.  
Restroom: N/A — they have one; never been there.

C’ville Coffee
Wifi: Iffy but free.
Coffee: Good but not remarkable.
Food: Good. Try the honey bunches for a small treat.
Workability: Can be crowded and outlets are few. Early mornings are generally quiet. C’ville Coffee is where a lot of business happens in town so be prepared to see someone you know and to chat.
Atmosphere: The adults only area is a good hangout but C’ville Coffee is popular with moms and kids. Sometimes the place just has a hint of eau de dirty diaper.
Parking: Can be crowded especially mid-day; limited to 90 minutes, but free.
Restroom: Ew. No thanks. They have them but I’ve not been there. The high kid traffic keeps me from believing it would be pleasant.

Panera at Hollymead Town Center and Barracks Road
Wifi: Free, mostly reliable.
Coffee: Unremarkable chain restaurant variety coffee.
Food: Good but oh lardy, I’m sick of it.
Workability: Early morning or late afternoon only; otherwise overcrowded and loud. Outlets are few but findable.
Atmosphere: Barracks — tables and booths are crammed together. Hollymead — much more pleasant and spacious; love the fireplace area. Bonus: outdoor seating when weather permits.
Parking: Barracks — difficult but free. Hollymead — plentiful and free.
Restroom: Reliably clean.

Shenandoah Joe’s
Wifi: Iffy but free.
Coffee: The best in town, beans are roasted on site.
Food: Who cares? See “Coffee.” I believe there are some pastries if really necessary.
Workability: Possible. I like the bar with the outlets.
Atmosphere: Pleasant but this place is popular any time of day. It may be tough to jockey for a good work spot.
Parking: Free but not plentiful.
Restroom: Unisex and actually lovely.

Mudhouse, downtown
Wifi: Yes and free.
Coffee: Quite good.
Food: Sweets. Try a shot of goo or a brownie. Not both.
Workability: Not so much. Mudhouse is often crowded and the tables are too close together. The music is often too loud for good concentration.
Atmosphere: Groovy and European wannabe. Interesting art shows.
Parking: Downtown. None. Duh.
Restroom: Ask for the key. That much I know; I’ve never been.

Starbucks at Hollymead, Berkmar and Pantops
Wifi: T-Mobile. Not free. Boooo!
Coffee: Consistent, expected, expensive.
Food: Meh. Try a cuffin (n. a cupcake disguised as a muffin).
Workability: Hollymead, yes, always. Berkmar, not in the morning. Pantops, not for most of the day — the seating area is crowded and cramped, even without people.
Atmosphere: Starbucky (adj. self congratulating coffee experience overindulged with mermaid-branded status. Wear your pink polo shirt with the collar UP.)
Parking: Yep. Dangerous at Berkmar (I’ve witnessed several near collisions) but free and available at all three.
Restroom: Generally clean and acceptable.

In summary, my coffeehouse choices are largely affected by geography, landing near where I need to be or wherever the next or previous meeting is scheduled. Given the free choice scenario, though, I’d choose Java Java to get some serious work done, C’ville Coffee for schmoozing networking opportunities and Shenandoah Joe’s for yummy coffee and to feel somewhat hip.

Where do you like to workcamp in Charlottesville?

I write this aware that my mother will sit at her kitchen table, cup of Lipton tea before her, furrow of worry at her brow, reading this post from the page my father has printed, from the e-mail he receives to let him know there’s a new post on my blog. Hello, Mom! Hello, Dad!

I’m blogging when there are at least 100 other things I should be doing. I’m in that lull that precedes “the scurry” that inevitably precedes the work trip. There’s a list in my head of what I want to/need to accomplish for work. There’s another list that encompasses that which I want to do for the boy’s birthday on Tuesday. There’s the other, unavoidable list of the laundry that must be finished, the dinner made, the arrangements made for the week. There’s this other crazy, misguided list of stuff I’ve been wanting to do for awhile, not limited to the task of ironing on the 42 patches the girl has earned in Girl Scouts. There’s a list of the stuff I wanted to get done before this trip (get a haircut, get a few items drycleaned) that may be moving to the “It’s not going to happen,” list.

This is the war cry of the overachiever.

I’m just this close to feeling overwhelmed and I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, “Are you doing too much? Do you think maybe you need to slow down, or take a break?” and I can’t listen to it because then I will feel those pangs of defeat, will allow myself to feel tired, to pause in my motion for that long enough second that will let the self-doubt in. It will take all the inner shouting I can muster to drown it out with, “Yes I can! I can do it all! I WILL do it all!” Then that other voice, the voice of the Fly Lady, will remind me, “Baby steps, dear.”

And they’re both right, of course. I will take the break. I will slow down. I will blog, for example, when I have something to say. I will not apply undue pressure to the wound of working too much. I will take baby steps and with a little planning, and a big, deep breath it will all get done.

Except the Girl Scout patches. That’s gotta wait.

I will do what I can, let go what I can’t, but above all, I will come through on the other side of this with some sense of accomplishment, and without the pain of defeat.

The girl stood before the open pantry, taking inventory of the items I’d brought home from the store.

“Oooh, I love those! You bought so many good snacks! Why did you buy all this stuff?”

Pause.

“Wait a minute.”

Pause.

“Are you going out of town?”

Busted.

Last night, the girl and I watched the Miss America Pageant in its entirety. As long as I can remember I have watched the pageant and as a kid had a ball with my mom, dad and sisters picking the “winner” and critiquing the contestants.

Now? I’m over it. The girl and I agreed that the pageant is the dumbest thing we’ve ever seen. The swimsuit competition looked so ridiculous — it’s such an outdated event that it’s unbelievable such an event still exists. We watched, of course, to get a kick out of the ridiculousness, to mock the talent, to scoff at the interview questions and admire or be aghast at the evening gown competition.

Does Miss America still have a place in our society? I don’t think so. I think we’ve evolved past the pageant. And while I admit, I am not as talented, poised, beautiful or uh, in shape as the contestants, I think that I’d like to see a little more reality in it. I’d love for the winner not to shriek and smear her lipstick all over her newly crowned face. I’d love to see someone accept the crown with confidence, with an “I knew I’d win” attitude. I’d love for it to be about more than dresses, bikinis, makeup, hairdos and talent. Go ahead, tell me it IS about more than that — convince me — I’d like to believe that. When it comes right down to the pageant itself, it’s as shallow and transparent as it ever was. Even with the Miss America Reality Check effort, the contestants were still robots, still clones, one barely distinguishable from the others.

While I know the foundation behind the pageant does good, supporting the Children’s Miracle Network, providing millions in scholarship support, I just don’t see the point anymore. Instead of the parading around, if this spectacle continues, show us videos of contestants that demonstrate their community efforts, their commitment to good health and physical fitness (even in bikinis, if necessary, but only if they’re swimmers!). Let them demonstrate their talent but for goodness’ sake, what if your talent is rocking at Sudoku, or baking pies? What if you’re absolutely gifted at caring for small children? And where’s the wheelchair-bound contestant? Where’s the girl with the facial scar? Where’s the girl who has overcome all kinds of adversity to get to the the point where she can even consider competing with other women who had every opportunity available to her?

I’m just done. I can’t watch it ever again; not even to make fun of it. It’s just not amusing anymore.  

First and foremost, you need a three day weekend. Preferably one when it’s not necessarily nice outside and you’re not tempted to go do other fun things.

Here’s the schedule:

A few days in advance: look at 1,000 paint chips. Decide on a color or, if you’re feeling adventurous, two colors. Go to the store and buy your paint and if needed, primer. Buy all of your supplies if you don’t already have them. Supply list appears far below.

Friday night: Enlist a couple of skinny burly teenagers to move your office furniture out or to the center of the room. Remove everything else from the room and take everything off the walls. Patch any holes. Tape. Tape everything; edges of windows, doors, the baseboard, where the walls meet the ceiling, etc. Then call it a night. Tomorrow’s a big day.

Saturday: Prime. Not Rib. Paint the entire room with primer. My office was badly painted and possibly only painted once by the previous owners, who did not appear to use the room regularly. Drywall was exposed in places, so primer was needed. I spent the whole morning priming, then knocked off the afternoon to go to the girl’s basketball game and then to dinner with friends. It’s important to have breaks in your painting weekend so you don’t feel like you spent the whole weekend painting. My husband helped me out by doing the grocery shopping and making lunch. The girl kept the laundry moving. Thanks, guys!

Sunday: Now it’s time to launch the color. I decided to do two colors, a light antique shade of pink and a chocolate milk shade of brown. I did them on connecting walls, to make my life a little easier. It took most of the day. Fortunately the room has a wall with giant sliding doors, a wall with sliding glass doors to the porch outside, a wall with a door and a wall with a window. This reduces the “big wall” space, but not the time it takes to paint. I knocked off by 4pm to relax and recover. Thankfully my husband made dinner. Yay — jambalaya!

Monday: This is why it takes a three day weekend. On Monday, I did the two-color edges and all the touch-ups. Some areas needed a third coat. The third day also gave me time to remove all the tape and clean everything up. This day requires the most time, especially if you’re fussy like me. Cleanup alone took an hour so plan to start early so you can salvage some of the day to relax. You do NOT want to be messing with touchups and cleanup at 10pm if you have to go back to work the next day.

Supplies:

1. I like to use a combination of big rollers, small rollers, corner painters, edgers and a regular paintbrush. I like the Shur-Gard brand.
2. Painters’ tape. One roll oughta do it.
3. You’ll need a few dropcloths. Oh, you think you don’t, but you do. I prefer the cheap plastic type.
4. If you’re doing two colors, use two different paint trays. Just don’t get confused and dip into the wrong one.
5. Paint clothes. I have a pair of old jeans and a red hoodie I’ve worn for several winter painting projects. They have a bit of color from each on them. I have an old tee shirt and some cotton shorts I wear to paint in the summer. I’d rather die than be seen in these in public, although I have been known to run to Lowe’s in said attire. It seems somehow acceptable there. Also, no one stares when I have paint in my hair.
6. Tunes. I used my iPod Shuffle full of favorite tunes by which to paint. The best that came up was some Marvin Gaye and Cake. Good painting music.
7. Overturned milk crate. This is my preferred stand-on item. I don’t care if it gets paint on it, it’s stable, and just high enough so I can reach the ceiling. I’ve painted many a room standing on a milk crate. One tip: you must wear shoes.
8. Q-tips. These are great for those little bitty touch ups when the tape ends up removing some of the paint along with it.
9. Post-it Notes. This is my secret weapon. Stick these to the edge of a window or door when doing last minute touch ups and they work great as a guide and protector.

Things I learned while painting my home office:

Any home improvement project takes a minimum of three trips to Lowe’s. I always think I have everything, then decide I need more. In this case, I went back for more small rollers once, and again for an edger.

Painting a room makes you realize how much the people who were involved in the actual construction of your house really didn’t give a crap about the work they did. Nothing like painting a room to see how poorly mudded your walls were, or how corners were cut, shoddy materials used, and attention to detail ignored. It’s frustrating and makes me look forward to building a house again one day. I will be on those guys like a wet blanket.

I can’t seem to do a painting project without some minor injury. I broke two nails and jammed something up under my thumbnail. As I watched the blood bubble up under the nail I was less concerned about the pain than my memory of a previous similar injury. About seven years ago I bent to pick up a hard plastic Barbie brush of the girl’s and one of the bristles went up under my thumbnail. Days later the thumb throbbed and got hot. I ended up going to one of those urgent care joints for antibiotics and a tetanus shot (I believe it was a holiday). Anyway, I remembered that well with this injury, particularly when I then got paint under the nail. Ick.

Get done before you have to go back to work. Pay attention to how much time everything takes and amp up the schedule if needed. Your arms may feel like noodles and your shoulders may be prayin’ for mercy but get it done. Don’t leave any of the work hanging over your head when you have to return to your “real job.”

And now . . . the big reveal:

In this shot you can see the two-color connecting walls. When I told my sister “brown and pink” she said, “Like Baskin-Robbins!” Good thing we don’t have a B-R in Charlottesville or I’d want ice cream all the time.

This is another connecting corner. I chose these colors because I thought they’d change with the light in the room, the time of day, etc. They do!

This shot shows more of the brown, which looks sort of mauve in this light. The colors work pretty well together — not too different but different enough to give the room dimension.

My friend Karen once told me that I make a really good “regret” face. I’m making it now. You would, too, because SERIOUSLY, how did I not ever notice THIS GUY in high school? Check him out as the skydiving instructor in The Bucket List, starring two guys I did NOT go to high school with, Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson.

For the STL Bloggers Carnival #7. Also, because I like the topic and ALSO, because my parents told me today that a high school friend is in the movie. Fun!

1. Get a really deep, dark Tropicana tan. Just once. And have a bikini body to show it off with. (SO not going to happen. The darkest I get is off white.)

2. Travel to all the lovely places I want to visit — it’s a very long list, including but not limited to France, Alaska, Africa, England and Jackson, Missisippi.

3. Get all done up just like Bettie Page and go somewhere really inappropriate like, oh I don’t know, a PTA meeting.

4. Publish something. Wait — no, have someone else publish something I’ve written, pay me lots of money for it and earn lifelong notoriety for it.

5. I could be all serious here and give the Miss America “world peace, end hunger, homelessness and disease” etc. and OF COURSE that stuff is on the list BUT, I’m making this list JUST FOR FUN so, #5 is to perform as lead singer of a real band in front of a real (big) audience that thinks I rock. (um, influenced by too many hours of Rock Band. I do a mean Ozzy.)

What’s on your “bucket list”?

I’ve been in love with the short story since I was a child, discovering renewed passion for it when the form allowed for the limited time I had to read when my children were small. I am a collector of short stories, particularly those found in the annual collection, The Best American Short Stories. I have nearly every volume published since the year I was born. Imagine my surprise when, upon visiting the home of a new friend two years ago, saw a bookshelf filled with the collections — it was like seeing my own bookshelf in someone else’s home. I also like the O. Henry Prize Stories and occasionally will pick up that anthology as well. For a time, I volunteered with Delmar magazine, the St. Louis literary publication, find writers, promote readings and publish its annual volume.

The 2007 edition of Best American Short Stories, (which I ordered and read hungrily, an annual tradition of mine since 1993), was edited by Stephen King. You may have heard of him. My favorite story within is Wait by Roy Kesey, originally published in The Kenyon Review. Any traveler who has had to wait will enjoy this story.

I recently added the Books application to my Facebook profile. You can follow what I’m reading there, and what I thought of it, in case you’re interested. As friends and family know, I read a ridculous amount. I read fiction, nonfiction and business books — and that’s just what I read on paper. Online, I read much more.

Some of the best gifts I recieved in 2007 were books — both boxes full and complete surprises. Danielle sent me every book in the Sweet Potato Queen’s collection and Amanda sent me a Book Box — a kind of traveling book club full of delightful novels that kept me in pages for months. I have just paid it forward, and sent the Book Box to another book-loving friend, as a surprise to her. I can’t wait to send another Book Box to an unsuspecting reader!

While I’m waiting for Dwight’s book to be available via Amazon, I’m looking for any recommendations from you. My book well is about to run dry, and I have some travel in my future. My Mistress’s Sparrow is Dead is on deck (a collection of love stories, just in time for Valentine’s Day). Any ideas?

Finally, while I await your recommendations, I share this story, written by my former writing teacher and friend, Bob Earleywine. The Lone Ranger (Abandoned Episode) was originally printed in Natural Bridge, the literary journal produced by the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Enjoy!