As I continue to ponder my existence, dread (more and more) the pending work deliverables, feel increasing angst over my so-called career, look forward to becoming a nun in retirement, and pray for immediate salvation in the form of a new career that suits me and my passion (albeit poorly defined) and pays the bills, I found my new friend Thomas Merton via My Life with the Saints.
From a young drinker/partier to hermit/monk. My soul mate.
I also found this prayer from his book Thoughts on Solitude that perfectly sums up my current anguish filled prayers.
MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
It's the best years of your life they want to steal
You grow up and you calm down
You're working for the clampdown
Last year, Son #2's teacher and her third grade class were the nationwide Scholastic Book Grand Prize winners in the non-fiction category for a book they wrote and illustrated, Rejoice! Poetry Celebrating Life in the Amazon Rainforest.
As such, Son #2 is convinced his class will win it again this year.
Son #2: When we win, will you buy the book for me?
Me: Absolutely, but keep in mind, Mrs. Kwit's class won last year. Winning two years in a row may be unheard of.
Son #2: Mama, you're being very disencouraging.
I love it when he coins a new word! More importantly, I love it when he teaches me a lesson. I need to be less disencouraging and possibly more reencouraging.
It's so difficult to be back behind my desk after such a fabulous week (Thanks Mom!) of 88 degree weather, sunshine, rum punch, swimming, snuggling, ping pong, learning to scuba dive (in a pool!), attempting to play tennis with little kids and stuffing our faces with food. Must go right back.
Can you drive to Barbados?
Instead, I must find peace at home.
At the end of mass last weekend, my mom's priest gave an announcement that they were selling the book My Life with the Saints for $10. Strange, that's exactly the recommended reading from Coffee Toast Milk Jam. My mom bought two! Can't wait to start reading tonight.
In preparation, for whatever reason extremely foreign to my normal behavior, I decided I shouldn't start another book until I had finished the three I was working on. So I did. Following are my two-second book reviews.
Reading Jesus by Mary Gordon: Interesting take on reading the Gospels from a Catholic who had never picked them up before. The author poses a lot of great questions about seemingly contradictory Bible passages; however, a little more probing prior to publishing her book may have answered some of the questions. I ain't no Biblical scholar but some of them seemed fairly easy to comprehend. For example, in thinking about the Prodigal Son's brother who gets screwed out of his possessions (including his fatted calf) when his drinking/whoring brother returns home and their dad throws a big party, she cries "unfair." Exactly. But she doesn't fully explore the greater meaning of a Father celebrating the lost son's return vs. not celebrating (but still loving and honoring with the remaining inheritance) the diligent son who, in turn, has no love in his heart -- even for his brother -- and is performing familial duties perfunctorily (i.e., who embodies legalism vs. passion).
In a nutshell: Short read, interesting observations, but really not worth running out to buy.
Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert: Not even remotely written in the same vein as her hit Eat, Pray, Love but I really enjoyed this book. As someone who a) has pondered the rationale of marriage for more years than I've been married (i.e., I never really understood the need for it prior to getting married) and b) agreed to get married without any real understanding of what being married entailed, I couldn't help wishing that someone had written this book in the early nineties. It is a well researched, well documented treatise on "holy" matrimony including the history of marriage, with some multicultural references and a few "what works/what doesn't" statistics thrown in for good measure. The author's writing style suits me well so, for me, it was a page turner even if the subject matter is a bit dry at times and somewhat irrelevant to many of us.
In a nutshell: Unless you really care about the history of marriage and/or are considering getting married and want to ponder the subject a little more deeply, why bother?
All We Wanted Was Everything by Janelle Brown: A beach read. No more/no less. Given that I don't live in a world of IPOs, wealth, extravagance, country clubs, etc., I didn't relate well to the characters. And although I finished reading it I feel certain that, had I not, I wouldn't have missed a thing.
In a nutshell: Don't believe the hype.
All in all, a bit of a bust. Onward now to My Life with the Saints.
In addition to issuing this apology, I think the JetBlew CEO, David Neeleman, needs to go on CBS's Undercover Boss preferably as he and his family are traveling to a much-needed vacation. What better way to witness the company's immense inefficiencies firsthand?
In case he's too important to subjugate himself to a horror of that magnitude, here's my account of our trip home for his files:
In Barbados, the bag count on the jet differed from the count on the ground. Result: almost a two hour delay while they removed all of the bags, recounted them and placed them back on the aircraft. While I'm grateful that we didn't fly away with a bomb on the aircraft, I think that JetBlew could have taken that same time to order food for its passengers: 150 passengers * $5 sandwich = $750 goodwill. Instead, 150 passengers boarding after lunch + Doritos mix for dinner = hunger at 10:00 p.m.
On-board, the flight attendant moved us up to the front of the plane in mid-descent to ensure we could hustle through customs and make our flight which was "delayed until 11:00 p.m." and "being held" for us (i.e., she stated that she called ahead).
In JFK, we literally ran through the airport -- from Terminal 4 to Terminal 5 via Air Train -- with our luggage. And by "we," I mean me, my 76 year old mother and two kids ages 8 and 9. At any time of the day, this would be exhausting. At 10:00 p.m., I was worried someone would collapse.
Because we switched terminals, we had to recheck our bags and go through security again. As we entered the security line, the woman glanced at our tickets and said, "Go to the left and run to Gate 23, they're holding the plane for you."
No plane at Gate 23.
"There was a gate change. Run to Gate 10; we'll call ahead to let them know you're here."
No plane at Gate 10.
"Try Gate 25."
No plane at Gate 25.
Back at Gate 23, we asked for more help and told the lady what happened.
"It left here 15 minutes ago. No one told me to hold it." (Note: it was now 10:50 p.m. which means it wasn't really delayed until 11:00 p.m. or being held for us.)
We then told her what we'd been through. Her question: "You dragged your luggage here? Why didn't they recheck your bags in Terminal 4?" How the hell should we know? WTF? (Everyone from our flight was running with their luggage.)
This kind lady placed the four of us on the first flight to Rochester the following morning. "Get here by 7:30 a.m. because the lines at that time are really long. You can then relax and have Dunkin' Donuts by the gate." Good to know.
"Would you like a hotel room or would you prefer to sleep in the airport?" Seriously? What family ranging in ages from 8 to 76 would prefer to sleep in the airport? She booked us at the Doubletree.
Arrive at the Doubletree to discover that they have not been notified -- even though their driver came to pick us up. The woman at registration then places a number of calls to different JetBlew teams to determine if we're authorized. Time now: almost midnight. Kids: starving.
The next morning, we arrive at JFK to discover that only I'm on the 9:25 a.m. flight and the rest of my family is booked on the 7:30 p.m. flight. Why? No one knows. So much for getting everyone up and to the terminal early. Worse yet, there's a 1:30 p.m. flight with available seats. Idiocy at its finest. Somehow we manage to get two seats on the first flight for my mom and Son #1 to get home (because he has a party to attend) and Son #2 and I spend the day in the airport. Again.
As much as I love, love, loved our vacation in Barbados, I never, ever, ever want to fly again. Ever. Any carrier. Never. Especially JetBlew.
Nothing in the world is perfect
Grin and bear it silently or yell into my ear
Complaints, it's my department
Minutes ago, while I was sitting poolside with the kids enjoying the music, sunshine, blue sky, banana daiquiri and sound of crashing waves, I asked them, "Look around, what do you see?"
