Fried a USB drive with two - count 'em TWO- fresh interviews for my new show. Staples wants $400 to retrieve the data. For two WAV files, I'm going to eat some crow and re-do the interviews....unless.
In a last ditch effort to retrieve the data, I'm going to try this
Friday, September 9, 2011
My last nerve
When she was frustrated, mom would say she was on her last never. That's what today was like for me.
First, a day of technical difficulties. Lost two radio interviews because of a failing USB flash drive. Staples wants $400 to retrieve the data. I've already set the stage to eat crow and redo the interviews. I'd rather spend the money on a new microphone and take the show on the road.
And I forgot to retrieve about 10 minutes of the show when I was in Hartford early in the day. Had to go back and get that. <sigh>
Then Audition was giving me problems. Then I couldn't upload to the FTP from any of my Macs. Finally uploaded the radio show from my son's PC (and I questioned his decision to get a PC over a Mac!)
Yeah, I'm talking tech, but it's like any job - one of those days where everything goes wrong. You can relate.
Second, my daughters decided to have a shouting match that I tried to ignore - until it came to blows. Took an hour to settle that down.
<sigh>
Next up: get ready for Saturday's class.
Again, I say: <sigh>
First, a day of technical difficulties. Lost two radio interviews because of a failing USB flash drive. Staples wants $400 to retrieve the data. I've already set the stage to eat crow and redo the interviews. I'd rather spend the money on a new microphone and take the show on the road.
And I forgot to retrieve about 10 minutes of the show when I was in Hartford early in the day. Had to go back and get that. <sigh>
Then Audition was giving me problems. Then I couldn't upload to the FTP from any of my Macs. Finally uploaded the radio show from my son's PC (and I questioned his decision to get a PC over a Mac!)
Yeah, I'm talking tech, but it's like any job - one of those days where everything goes wrong. You can relate.
Second, my daughters decided to have a shouting match that I tried to ignore - until it came to blows. Took an hour to settle that down.
<sigh>
Next up: get ready for Saturday's class.
Again, I say: <sigh>
Monday, September 5, 2011
The guy in Starbucks
So a guy with a big mouth walks into a Starbucks (no, this is not the start of a bad joke - or, maybe it is) and wants to sit at a table. With none available, he tells me and the young man next to me to leave - he was joking of course, but I could tell he was going to be one of those annoying types. Using "fuck" as both an adjective and a verb in reference to his ex-wife, his 22-year-old daughter and his female algebra instructor. Yeah, not exactly a classy type.
In less than 10 minutes I knew more about him than I wanted to know: 42-years-old, crazy ex-wife who's 30, father of seven, runs 12 different construction businesses, hangs out with his daughter's friends, worked as a tool maker, creating the prototype machine for the manufacture of a well-know razor brand ("And you know how much money I got out of it? My $11.00 an hour, that's it!"), owned and lived on an island in the Sound (to which he brought homeless people to eat, work and live - my comment was that I hope he didn't get in trouble by infringing on their 13th, 14th or 15th amendment rights), had a car accident that left him with amnesia for 8 months, walked around after the accident with his brains hanging out ("LITERALLY hanging out, you know what I mean??").
But he's leaving all that behind and studying to become a nurse.
I got a bad vibe from the guy when he insinuated that he'd thought about being with his oldest daughter but that he could "never be in someone who had come out of" his ex-wife. He also took alot of time settling in to his "less than desired" place at the window and did his homework out loud - until I asked him to do it quietly.
Oh, and he plans on getting his algebra instructor fired because he doesn't like her. <sheesh>
In less than 10 minutes I knew more about him than I wanted to know: 42-years-old, crazy ex-wife who's 30, father of seven, runs 12 different construction businesses, hangs out with his daughter's friends, worked as a tool maker, creating the prototype machine for the manufacture of a well-know razor brand ("And you know how much money I got out of it? My $11.00 an hour, that's it!"), owned and lived on an island in the Sound (to which he brought homeless people to eat, work and live - my comment was that I hope he didn't get in trouble by infringing on their 13th, 14th or 15th amendment rights), had a car accident that left him with amnesia for 8 months, walked around after the accident with his brains hanging out ("LITERALLY hanging out, you know what I mean??").
But he's leaving all that behind and studying to become a nurse.
I got a bad vibe from the guy when he insinuated that he'd thought about being with his oldest daughter but that he could "never be in someone who had come out of" his ex-wife. He also took alot of time settling in to his "less than desired" place at the window and did his homework out loud - until I asked him to do it quietly.
Oh, and he plans on getting his algebra instructor fired because he doesn't like her. <sheesh>
It's the little things that make all the difference...
Actress Paltrow changed life on 9/11/01
Can I just be a little suspicious that this is just coming out now? Just a little too convenient that she's promoting a movie and the tenth anniversary is happening and all...
Can I just be a little suspicious that this is just coming out now? Just a little too convenient that she's promoting a movie and the tenth anniversary is happening and all...
Sunday, September 4, 2011
The hairbrush
After 9/11 everyone wanted to give blood.
In Fairfield County, CT, the Red Cross held a blood drive the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks. People came from all over the region to donate. I was there to deal with media inquiries. I still had pneumonia and the folks from the local Red Cross chapter allowed me to rest in their chapter house about half a block from the blood drive site.
Alone in the house, I dozed off until I heard a woman in the foyer call out "Hello? Anyone here?" I answered her and came out from the front room to find a woman holding a hairbrush. She tried handing it to me.
I was still feverish and, having just emerged from a light sleep, I didn't know why she was here handing me a brush. I must have looked confused, for the woman proceeded to tell me that the hairbrush was her husband's. She'd been told to bring it to the Red Cross for entry into a DNA database. Still it wasn't computing, until...
It finally dawned on me that her husband was missing at the WTC site. I felt a chill run down my spine.
Thankfully, two chapter employees came in at that point, and redirected her to the family support site where volunteers would help her.
That's the moment it all became real for the first time.
In Fairfield County, CT, the Red Cross held a blood drive the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks. People came from all over the region to donate. I was there to deal with media inquiries. I still had pneumonia and the folks from the local Red Cross chapter allowed me to rest in their chapter house about half a block from the blood drive site.
Alone in the house, I dozed off until I heard a woman in the foyer call out "Hello? Anyone here?" I answered her and came out from the front room to find a woman holding a hairbrush. She tried handing it to me.
I was still feverish and, having just emerged from a light sleep, I didn't know why she was here handing me a brush. I must have looked confused, for the woman proceeded to tell me that the hairbrush was her husband's. She'd been told to bring it to the Red Cross for entry into a DNA database. Still it wasn't computing, until...
It finally dawned on me that her husband was missing at the WTC site. I felt a chill run down my spine.
Thankfully, two chapter employees came in at that point, and redirected her to the family support site where volunteers would help her.
That's the moment it all became real for the first time.
Telling the kids
 | |||||
| NY Times front page (09/12/01) |
On September 11, 2001, my kids were ages 10, 8 and 5. We didn't have lots of time to figure out what to say and how to say it. We had to wing it.
My older daughter was in 5th grade. They were told in school some generalities of what had happened - the oldest and only grade of students in that school to be told.
My younger daughter (grade 3) and my son (starting kindergarden), had started at an out-of-town magnet school just a few weeks earlier. They were not told anything about what had happened, but knew something was amiss: the school - big on technology - had banned kids from being exposed to TV or radio that day. And recess was REALLY long.
My husband picked the kids up from after school care at the regular time (about 5:30 PM). It never crossed our minds to pick them up early that day, and I still don't understand why one would do so. On the short ride home, he told all the kids a bit more about what had happened. Planes in NYC - where we'd been the previous Christmas season to see the Radio City show. The Pentagon. The field in Shanksville, PA. No, it wasn't near your grandparents house in Pittsburgh. Yes, you can call them when we get home.
I arrived home around 7:30 PM - an early day compared to some Red Crossers, mainly due to the pneumonia. My husband and I decided to let the kids watch the towers fall while I sat by to answer questions.
Big mistake.
The girls were stunned into silence. My son stood on a chair and yelled "My Daddy's gonna get those bad men." Though I was more worried about the girls' reaction, over the coming days and weeks, they processed what they saw better than their brother. He became more and more insecure. He never before used a blanket or pacifier for comfort. After 9/11, he started collecting Beanie Babies he called "The Goochie Family." And Beanie kitties. The Goochie Family and the kitties lived in a box that was their home, with a mom and dad.
His obsession with the Goochie Family started to fade around springtime, only to be resurrected when the media started stirring the pot about 6 weeks before the first anniversary. The Goochies were back, but only for about a couple months.
A week after the 9/11 attacks, I listened to WCBS-AM Radio out of NYC. The week seemed to have gone by so quickly. Driving home, I considered the human perception of the passage of time, and wondered if the next month and year and decade would seem to pass as quickly.
Seemingly, the decade passed quickly. In reality, ten years passed in the same amount of time as 10 years has always passes: 5,250,000 minutes (math made easy by Jonathan Larson).
I still haven't cried. Is that bad?
Chilling
Sometimes it's the small decisions that determine our fate. These 9/11 survivors are a testament to that.
My own decision to go to work that day was no where near as dramatic, but strange nonetheless. As Communications Manager for the local Red Cross blood bank, I had been on medical leave for pneumonia since just before the previous Labor Day weekend, and not expected back until Monday, September 17, 2001.
Feeling better and noting the beauty of the day, I went into work to check emails and voicemails - both of which I could do from home but I wanted to show my face. I figured I'd do half a day and be ready for a long nap that afternoon.
I distinctly remember looking up at the sky around the time I arrived (a little before 9 AM) and thinking to myself, "What am I doing here? It's gorgeous and warm. I should be out on the back porch in the chaise lounge baking this illness out of me." I was still unaware of what had happened, as were my co-workers.
The first sign of something amiss was when a co-worker's training when the local Red Cross chapter took the room over for the TV so they could watch the news about a plane hitting the WTC. I was reminded of reading about a small plane hitting the Empire State Building many decades earlier and thought this was similar. We put out a small $25 TV to watch the coverage and joined it just in time to see United Flight 175 hit the second tower.
Everything else that day is pretty much a blur. The phones went dead until about 11 AM, then started ringing off the hook for hours. I did numerous TV, radio and newspaper interviews. I called my mom to check on my brother who worked in NYC. He was fine, thankfully.
I still wonder what made me go to work that particular day. I know I worked 19 days straight after that. More on that as the week progresses.
My own decision to go to work that day was no where near as dramatic, but strange nonetheless. As Communications Manager for the local Red Cross blood bank, I had been on medical leave for pneumonia since just before the previous Labor Day weekend, and not expected back until Monday, September 17, 2001.
Feeling better and noting the beauty of the day, I went into work to check emails and voicemails - both of which I could do from home but I wanted to show my face. I figured I'd do half a day and be ready for a long nap that afternoon.
I distinctly remember looking up at the sky around the time I arrived (a little before 9 AM) and thinking to myself, "What am I doing here? It's gorgeous and warm. I should be out on the back porch in the chaise lounge baking this illness out of me." I was still unaware of what had happened, as were my co-workers.
The first sign of something amiss was when a co-worker's training when the local Red Cross chapter took the room over for the TV so they could watch the news about a plane hitting the WTC. I was reminded of reading about a small plane hitting the Empire State Building many decades earlier and thought this was similar. We put out a small $25 TV to watch the coverage and joined it just in time to see United Flight 175 hit the second tower.
Everything else that day is pretty much a blur. The phones went dead until about 11 AM, then started ringing off the hook for hours. I did numerous TV, radio and newspaper interviews. I called my mom to check on my brother who worked in NYC. He was fine, thankfully.
I still wonder what made me go to work that particular day. I know I worked 19 days straight after that. More on that as the week progresses.
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