90 degrees is not for baking?

I feel slightly pathetic, because I am camped out at my parents house, throwing my independence to the wind, and lounging in their air-conditioned palace… I have a cocktail in hand, a strawberry rhubarb crisp in the oven, I just finished grilling steak to put on top of my salad and I’ve got a load of laundry in the washer. Life is pretty good, minus the fact that I’m a grown-up lured back into the nest with the promise of a consistent temperature, and laundry facilities.

This is not my first summer in Oregon, but it is my first summer in this particular apartment. For the past two summer’s I lived in a second story loft, and the delicious vaulted ceilings saved me from the oppressive heat. Yes, it was warm, but the ceiling fans worked wonders, and the heat stayed at the ceiling, leaving the evenings cool for sleeping.

This year, I am living in an upstairs apartment built for a hobit. The ceilings are low and slanted, there are no fans, and the front porch is made of tin, which reflects heat directly through my windows. The only place to escape the heat is in my stairwell. It is such a fake out when I walk in the front door and feel a rush of cool air. This lasts approximately 3.5 seconds until I start climbing the stairs and am embraced in the warm stagnant air. Thankfully, I have window fans, and it does tend to cool off around 3:00AM, but spending the afternoons and evenings in my upstairs oven is less than pleasant.

For some unfortunate reason, I’m always inspired to bake when it gets hot. Why is this? Why would I want to intentionally turn on the oven and add to the misery? No one knows. Regardless, I tend to give into the urge, using my parents kitchen. The counter-space is bountiful, the air-conditioning feels luxurious, and I have a bottle of gin stashed in the pantry. Turn on the grill, get out the lime, put up my feet (while the things are in the oven of course), and bask in the cool cool air.

Summary

Ok, Ok, I know there are only six poems…

I didn’t quite make it a whole week. I had every intention of doing it… and then, per usual life just got in the way. I was on vacation with six other people, and everyone on the trip had different ideas about what we should be doing, where we should be going etc, and I have to say that finding time for me to write a poem wasn’t high on anyone’s list. I realize this an excuse, and I could have found the time/ desire had I really wanted to… but when you are constantly surrounded by people for three days, I really felt the need to not have my brain be “on” in my downtime. And so instead I did yoga in the park, drank a few beers, watched a few baseball games, caught up with some friends, and didn’t write…

But six poems are better than five poems, or no poems at all, so overall, I deem the exercise a complete success… I mean, even God rested his creative juices on the 7th day… so I’m taking my cues from him.

So now I’m back from my mini-vacation, and trying to establish my rhythm for the week… It’s hot in my apartment… which makes motivation to do anything but sip on icy cold beverages rather low. My apartment is a mess, my suitcase is still full, there are dishes in the sink, I’ve got lots of work to catch up on, two events this week, and a book report due next week, a hair cut, yoga, half-marathon training… Distractions, distractions, distractions… I know the reality of my everyday is that if I want to get anything done, (in the creative sense) I have to make writing a priority, rather than sitting around waiting for the perfect moment of down-time, or a little nugget of inspiration? Will I be writing a poem everyday this week? Probably not… will I at least be more aware of how I spend my time, and try to make writing a priority? Absolutely.

haiku

Here is what I love
baseball, boston, beer, it's bliss
content summer nights

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Rhythm

“Rhythm. You Have It Or You Don't? That's a Fallacy.”- The Gorillas

I’ve been trying to find my way

back into the rhythm of things

Life

Writing

Exercise

Trying to find that Sattvic state of balance.

Desire and motivation are not the same

and time is a completely different matter

So I stumble through my days pretending

thinking if I fake it long enough,

a habit will form.

Life will gain a certain cadence

inspiration will sneak in between

cups of coffee

and brushing of teeth

creativity will become a reflex

time will find itself available

and rhythm will be fashioned out of will

and simply be.

Day 4

It’s 9:19 and there is still an inkling of daylight

 That in itself deserves a poem

That and all the other little things

that make this life worth living

Like the generous glass of blushing rosé

keeping me company this evening

Finding the perfect Buddha for my meditation corner

on sale

The smell of tomato plants

lingering outside my window

The promise of fresh produce

Crunchy Dill Pickles

Finding the perfect shade of lipstick

Getting kumquats

in your Easter Basket

Being able to take a weekend off

mid-summer

Finding your rhythm

The way sparkling water

dances on your tongue

Waking up before the alarm and knowing

you have the choice to keep on sleeping

The smell of hidcote pink lavender

A pack of new sharpies

The way snapdragons pop open

their little mouths

The perfection of

crawling in between clean sheets

Fresh basil

on anything

Handwritten letters

Hearing your favorite song on the radio

Unexpected laughter

                Knowing that this list will never be complete

                Knowing that my happiness is wrapped up in a myriad

of regular moments

Day 3: Magnetic Poetry

I was feeling a little playful this morning, so as I waited for my coffee to brew, I sat down on the kitchen floor and busted out my “Yoga Magnetic Poetry”

This past week in class we began to focus on Pranayama or the Breathing aspect of Yoga. Pranayam is the life force, the breath, and my homework this week has been to focus on and observe my breathing habits, and how my normal breathing differs from Pranayama.  It seemed fitting to write a poem about it.  It’s pretty challenging to write a poem with limited vocabulary, but it was also very freeing. As Tim Gunn would say “Make it Work” so I tried, and this is what I came up with. 

Inspired by "Things I Didn't Know I Loved"

One of the great things about being a writer, is being able to “borrow” inspiration.

A few months ago I came across this poem by Linda Pastan, and fell in love with the words. Her poem was inspired by the Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet, and since I loved her poem so much, I immediately checked out a book of Hikmet’s poetry from the Library.

When I was in college one of the most difficult and most frustrating assignments was to take a poet, and try to write your own poetry in his/her style. Back then I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it…and it was really challenging. At that point in my writing, my voice wasn’t really developed, and so it was very hard to take my words, and try to shape them like someone else. I ended up getting so caught up in the assignment, that instead of being inspired by a writer, I ended up losing my voice completely, and writing something that was uninteresting, and really forced.

Of course now, years later, I’m finding that often the things I have such an aversion to, are exactly what I should be working on. Getting out of our comfort zones and being challenged can be a good thing! But I also found that this exercise was much easier for me now that my writing voice is established. I had a lot of fun writing this poem, and didn’t get bogged down with trying to sound like someone else. I was able to take my own words, and let the poem be inspired by some other writing, but in the end it is definitely my voice. 

I knew that I liked the earth… dark brown and rich with life

But I didn’t know that I loved it…

until I bit into a carrot, freshly harvested,

the taste of soil still lingering

This is the flavor of life.

I knew that I liked falling asleep next to you

feeling your chest rise and fall with the rhythm of your breath

listening to your heart as I drifted off…

But I didn’t know I loved waking up in your arms

until it was far too late.

I’ve always known I loved the written word,

but it’s easy to forget

until a verse finds its way into your life

and touches that place in you

and everything you are looking for is right there in the language

and all you can think is “damn that is good”

or you can’t think at all, and the words just wash over you.

I used to be impartial to the wind,

until I heard it whispering through the aspen trees

I always  knew I loved trees and their quiet strength,

but I didn’t understand it until I started practicing Vrksasana,

and the strength of the tree, the rootedness,

became my own

I knew I loved the sun, being solstice born,

We are kindred, forever.

But I didn’t know I loved the moon,

I didn’t appreciate its constant pull on my heartstrings

until I began to realize that my most creative moments

are nocturnal.

I knew I liked the color red

And then I saw the wild bergamot

reaching its crimson petaled fingers towards the sky

and I fell in love

with the color

and the moment.

And stillness… how could I not love it?

though I never gave it much thought

the utter content in the quiet

being left alone with nothing but your breath

I knew that I loved lists

concrete or mental

A glimpse of organization

In my ever-chaotic existence

Perhaps

if I sit here with my thoughts

this list of loves will become the world.

Wanting

You asked me what I wanted

and I pondered the ambiguity of such a question.

In this moment

and context:

A venti quad shot Americano

with a splash of soy.

In general:

An apartment with a garbage disposal

For the spider mites to decide

that my tomatoes aren’t worth it,

To be kissed long

and hard

and furiously,

an acre or two to let my mint

run ramped,

for the Redsox to make it

to the post season,

smaller pores,

someone to clean my kitchen,

a friend that lives in my zip code,

the list goes on.

  

  

One Week Challenge

So I haven't written a poem since February... I hesitate even admitting that. I like to think that it is largely a result of my brain turning to mush in a post- grad school application strike... but let’s face it; I got over that months ago... To be perfectly honest, I don't know why I haven't been writing poems... It makes perfect sense why I didn't get into graduate school, as I'm sure other potential academics are actively writing poetry, rather than passively thinking about it. It's not that I've given up on it... I read a lot of poetry, and quite frankly I think that is at least half the battle. Exposing yourself to it on an almost daily basis...

I've been carrying around a bit of a stigma about writing lately. Mainly because my mother is fairly consistently asking me if I've been writing, which completely shuts down my creative drive. I can't explain it; it is like a physical reaction in my body. I know she means well, and is trying to make conversation and bridge the gap in our relationship, but when it comes to talking about my writing with her I'm totally guarded. This is partially because she doesn't understand my writing process, and partially because of the way she reacts to my writing. 

When she asks if I've been writing she doesn't mean blogging, writing letters, creating newsletters, she means writing poetry. It is probably very innocent, but every time is escapes her mouth it feels loaded to me. Like she is somehow insinuating that the "writing" I'm doing isn't real writing. I never really know how to deal with this question coming from her, because she wants me to say yes, and then she wants me to share, immediately, and it's just not that simple. I like my words to sit on the page for a bit, I like to edit them, and let them marinate. and then I like some feedback, and suggestions, and Mothers (at least my mother) is incapable of giving me the type of constructive criticism that I need. So I keep the sharing rather limited until my work is a little more polished.

This is irritating to her, since she wants me to open up this part of my soul and share my every thought with her. She interprets my lack of sharing as me purposefully trying to hurt her and keep her out of an important part of my life... She cannot fathom a writer not wanting to share what they are working on.

And when I do share I often just feel frustrated because I'm not getting the feedback I need, or frustrated because she has taken something the wrong way. (Its one thing when someone cries over your work because it is moving. It's another when they cry over your work because you wrote about getting drunk when you were twenty, and thus leads the reader to somehow feel like a bad parent) I'm constantly frustrated that she doesn't understand any of this, and doesn't understand why I wouldn't want to share my writing with her... But I digress. The main point being, that I have a lot of frustration with my mother when it comes to my writing. We have different ideas about what I should and should not be sharing, and the way in which I do it, and overall this frustration tends to shut down my creative juices. It is a vicious cycle, because her peaked interest in my writing makes me want to write less. Clearly we both have issues.

And then there is the blogging issue... I thought I would confront the problem head on (the problem being that I don't want to sensor myself because I know my mom is reading, and I know her reactions by now) by simply asking her not to read my blog. I mean we are both adults, I've explained my writing process to her countless times, and I've explained to her that this is a writing project about me, and I don't want to feel like I have to watch what I write because my mother might be reading. Just a free creative exercise. It seemed like a reasonable request to me... Not to my mother. This is apparently something that I "will not understand until I have children of my own" but the fact that I'm putting something out there for the whole cyber-world to read, and have politely asked that my mother not read it has led to some major issues. We have sort of arrived at the point where I just pretend like she is actually doing what I've asked, and she just pretends like she isn't reading it (she is not very good at this, but I roll with it). 

I'm getting off topic, and I'm not using my mother as an excuse as to why I've not written poetry lately... just giving a background on some of my writing related frustrations. In the end I know it shouldn't matter. I'm going to write what I write, and she is going to react how she reacts, and hopefully we are both left standing, and still speaking.

Anyway, here I go. I have a week without any events at work, so I'm going to write a poem a day. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I've reached the now or never moment. I seem to work pretty good with deadlines, so hopefully this turns out ok. It is slightly terrifying, because I'm just going to put them out there. No work-shopping, no letting things marinate, just write and post. I want to start chewing my nails already. The purpose of this exercise is not necessarily to produce good poetry, but just to get back in the habit of producing poetry period... something I really want to get back into. Keep in mind that I'm going out of town without my computer on Friday morning... so this could get interesting. I'm not quite savvy enough to write poems on my phone, but I might post a few haiku's, who knows. Any feedback is welcome & appreciated (even if I don't agree with it)... but please keep in mind, I'm just getting my proverbial sea legs back. This is not an exercise in writing the best poems of my life, but just writing. Stay Tuned.

A few things I'm loving on right now

Evening dinners on the porch…

 My little front porch haven

 Once the sun gets off of the tin, my front deck is the perfect place to hang out in the evenings. There is usually a slight breeze, and it’s the perfect place to escape the oppressive heat of my apartment. Tonight I threw together a potato and cucumber vichyssoise and stuck with my fast and loose theme and threw together some corn bread. I pressed sage leaves into the buttered pan, and added a handful of blue cheese to the batter. The result was tasty and savory.

Dry Rosé...

Oh how I love pink wines… I feel really girly drinking them, but to me they are just the epitome of a summer sipper. This evening I’m drinking a rosé from the Loire Valley, but my standard local fall back is Big Fire Dry Rosé.

Pastel nail polish...

I’ve been obsessed with this pale green color from Revlon called “Minted” It’s very soft looking, but great for summer… It doesn’t make a huge bold statement, but it is very whimsical.

Aloe Vera Plants...

After spending an afternoon on the water, I found myself a little crispy. Aloe plant to the rescue! It is so wonderful to be able to just break off a leaf as I need it. No added alcohol or artificial coloring, no taking up space in my medicine cabinet. I love that it is renewable, and compostable! It is so easy to care for… lots of light, a little water. It does have an interesting smell to it… very green, and actually almost meaty, but it’s a very natural smelling and isn’t off-putting. For unknown reasons my mother thinks that having an aloe plant is “hippie-ish” which makes me laugh a lot.  She thinks a lot of the things I do are on the verge of being “too green” but I have to remind her that I work at a specialty plant and herb nursery.  Having a copious amount of plants practically comes with the job description, and personally, I love plants that multi-task.

Vintage Silverware garden markers...

 Photo Courtesy of Anthropologie.com

These particular ones are from Anthropologie, but I’ve seen them all over Etsy. Perfect for the eclectic herb garden. I haven’t gotten any yet, but I like to day-dream about how quaint and fun they would look in my container gardens.

Nocellara del Belice Olives...

 Photo Courtesy of  Local Flavour UK

These giant green olives are my favorite splurge at Harvest Fresh. They are this un-real grassy green color, have a lot of meaty texture, and make a really fun snack. They don’t have any of the bitter green-olive flavor, they are just bright and fun and tasty.

Hidecote Pink Lavender...

From a distance this pink lavender is nothing special. It takes on almost a gray tinge, and overall doesn’t look very impressive. But when you get close to it you realize that it smells incredible. It isn’t overly lavendery, but it has a very sweet aroma, almost like honeysuckle. The buds are this great iridescent green (very similar to the above nail polish actually) and it forms such a beautiful contrast with the pale pink blooms. When it is dried, the flowers turn sort of brown (which is really unfortunate) but the scent is really intoxicatingly good… I cannot wait to make some sachets!

My Zen Timer App...

So my homework in yoga this past week was to spend 15 minutes a day in stillness. They left the assignment rather ambiguous, not really specifying meditation, but the overall goal was physical and mental stillness. I really struggle with the mental part, as it is next to impossible to shut off my stream of consciousness. Anyway, I found that one of my biggest distractions was always wondering “how long have I been sitting here… is my time almost up?” So I broke down and bought the Zen Timer for my phone. It is my new obsession. It has six different bells you can choose from, ranging from Basu, to Zhada (my personal favorite is the Dêngzê ) and you can set it to chime at different intervals. Having a calming chime remind me of how much time I had left, and also to re-focus my brain was exactly what I needed, and it had made my homework much easier than expected. The App also prompts you if you want to journal at the end of your meditation, and lets you save a profile so I could just put in “homework” and it would go directly to my 15 minute meditation with built in reminder chimes and everything.  I know I shouldn’t need an APP to me motivated to spend some time in Meditation daily, but it really does make it easier…

Start the Day Early, by Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers 

I pretty much have this song on repeat… I am actually really behind the curve on this one, since my whole family (yes, even my mom) has been listening to this band for a few years. It is the perfect summer anthem. Besides Stephen Kellogg, I’ve also been listening to Zac Brown Band, The Bangles, Phoenix, Rooney, She and Him, and Matt Nathanson nonstop (I have a really great playlist that I made for the roadtrip to Eastern Oregon) Can I just say how thrilled I am that Portland radio stations are finally playing She and Him?  I already had a huge girl crush on Zooey Deschanel, and I really really adore both Volume I and Volume II.  

 

Asian Pear Ginger Kombucha…

 Photo Courtesy of wonderdrink.com

Ok So I, (along with the rest of the greater Portland area) am sad that  GT Kombucha has been pulled off the shelves… but today in between yoga classes I needed a little boost, so I tried the Kombucha Wonder Drink… and actually it is delicious. I really enjoyed the Asian Pear Ginger combination. Plus it's local!

Summertime and the livin is easy

These past few days I have been completely overtaken by how much I love summer. Now that we are actually having summerish weather in the pacific northwest I’m starting to remember why it really is my favorite season. I mean what is not to love, sunshine, fresh produce, baseball, lingering sunlight, lingering cocktails… I digress. 

My absolute favorite thing about the summer is the food…. Do I really need to say anymore besides nectarines? These tasty morsels are my all time favorite food, let alone fruit. Of course there are other delicious things like melons, garden greens, peas, beans, cucumbers, tomatoes, cold salads with things like quinoa and lentils, chilled soups, fresh herbs, the list goes on. Right now I am obsessed with the smell of tomato plants… seriously, bottle it up, and bathe me in it… the tart, green, almost sulfurous smell is like natures cologne. I am undeniably drawn to it. Currently I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that at least one of my tomato plants has spider mites… I’m fighting back… please God don’t take away my tomato plants, but I’m flashing back to the downhill battle of my lemon tree… Thankfully we have several varieties planted at work, so I can get my scent fix if things go awry with the mites.

 This is a pre-mite picture... in the meantime I am singing Pink Martini to it...

I love how easy it is to throw something delicious together without even trying in the summer. Grill up a few vegetables, add some quinoa, and voila, seasonal tastiness with minimal effort. Salads can be thrown together in mere minutes, tear up some greens, add a smattering of fresh herbs, and a quick vinaigrette and you’ve got a meal. I kind of play loose and fast in the summer when it comes to food. There are no rules, no recipes (or at least very few recipes) I just throw things together and hope for the best. Most of the time it works out beautifully. 

 Roasted Beets, Olive Oil, Fleur de Sel.

I tend to also be loose and fast with my extracurricular activities in the summer. This is just one of the perils of being an event coordinator, your summer weekends are pretty much tied up throwing other people’s parties. On the bright side, my chaotic schedule has helped me really appreciate my free-time, and I tend to savor the moments I get to spend with my friends outside the confines of over-scheduled weekend. I accidentally had this past Saturday off. There was supposed to be a wedding, but things went awry a few weeks ago, and the bride ended up throwing all the groom’s stuff on the front lawn and draining the joint checking account. Anyway, my manager sort of forgot to put me back on the regular schedule, so when I realized on Thursday that I would actually get a normal Saturday I was thrilled. I spend the day sailing on the Columbia River with a few friends. The weather was perfection, as was the company.

 Perfection

 Very much enjoying my sailing adventure

I love browsing the Thursday Farmer’s market to get inspired for my week in cooking. A few weeks ago I felt like a beauty pageant winner as I walked down the sidewalk with an armful of beets, and a jug of hard cider… ok maybe not a beauty queen… but quite frankly I’d rather have the gorgeous bunch of beets, than the oversized bouquet. I cannot get over how beautiful vegetables are… the vibrant colors, the leafy greens, the imperfect shapes. I go to the market not only to inspire my palate, but to inspire everything in my life. I love the rustic charm of outdoor markets, the beautiful ways in which things are displayed, and the overall knock–out beauty of fresh produce.

 Purple Cauliflower

The other place I draw a lot of inspiration from is Red Ridge… ok I know, it’s the slight ick factor, because I work there… but I am blown away on a daily basis by how gorgeous nature really is. When I need a few minutes of down time I browse through the green-house planning out my fantasy landscape. I walk through the lavender fields, stop and take in the views of Mt. Hood and marvel. When I first drove into Red Ridge for my interview two and a half years ago I remember thinking “I have to get this job, because I don’t want to leave”… I have since out-grown that. I do want to leave, and when I have a day off I run in the opposite direction… but I am still so drawn to it. I always get really excited when I see someone else with that same reaction. They see Red Ridge for the first time, and they cannot get over it. I was touring a writer around the property today and his reaction was “Well when your publicist told me how tranquil this place was, I thought she was feeding me a line… I mean that is her job right? And then I got out here and realized she wasn’t kidding.” 

  Crocosmia  

                                                                                                

Bee Balm by the Olive Tree

I notice new things in the landscape every single day, and I often like to think of it as my own little garden of Eden. I get really envious of the people who come to hang out on the patio & browse the gardens on their days off, because that is exactly what I want to be doing! I just want to hang out there without having to answer the phone, and explain how to taste olive oil. I’ve even considered sneaking in on a Monday when we are closed, but then that just seems too ridiculous… I cannot and will not spend my day off from work, hanging out at work… I will be the first to admit that my life is very much defined by my job, but I’m not quite ready to spend seven days a week there…. But if they asked me to move in I would. 

In the meantime, I will just enjoy the fact that I get paid to visit this place on a daily basis (and I will keep reminding myself of this through August, as I will essentially be spending all of my weekends from now until September working). So long as I’ve got the tomato plants, I say, bring it on summer. Bring it on.

Missing the cool mountain air

I made it back alive from the woods! Who knew camping was exactly the vacation that I needed to shut my brain off and unwind for a few days.  Even though I was constantly surrounded by people and pets, it was nice to spend the days at a slower pace. Sure I got up at 6AM every day (which is basically un-heard of in my real life), and actually went to bed at gasp 9:30 every night (also un-heard of in my real life), but the days activities consisted of eating copious amounts of food, drinking home-brewed beer, and sitting around the campfire. Sure we went for some hikes, played a few games of cornhole, roamed around the woods, and I managed to get in a few yoga sessions, but I can honestly say that a majority of the trip was spent sitting down chilling out.

It was so nice to have a break from technology and overall convenience… Yes, we did have a working toilet… and running water but considering the fact that there were roughly 40 of us, the out-houses were used more often than not. It’s funny how a camping trip can really bond you together with the people around you, even if you aren’t that close. It was mostly my sister-in-law’s relatives, and though I had met most of them before, it’s not like I was bosom buddies with anyone there. It’s amazing how quickly you get comfortable around people. Two days in, no one has showered, the out-houses are beginning to fill up,  brushing your teeth is optional, and everyone has dirt places we didn’t want to discuss. And yet we are all happy as clams around the camp-fire.  What can I say, nothing can connect an overly large group of extended relatives quite like a fart joke, and homemade alcohol… Oh how I love the woods.

Of course most everyone there had been privy to my Christmas Turducken experience, and I like to think that that set the tone for our woodly bonding. The only thing that can bond extended family quicker than a fart joke is an awkward holiday poultry experiment. 

 My brother and I on day two

Even though we had a great time, I can safely say that at the end of four days, we were all ready for a shower, and running water that wasn’t coming out of a creek. It was funny driving back towards the valley, we encountered several other people who looked like they were on their way back from a similar weekend. You can recognize that slightly lived in camping look among the others gathered at Starbucks… and you can feel the shower anticipation in the air…

That is the disappointing thing about coming back from a trip… when you are headed into the mountains with your boxes of food, freshly brushed teeth, and overall excitement. You cannot wait to get there! The drive seems to go fast, and the whole weekend is before you. And then Monday morning, you pack up your stuff, take half the dirt in the forest with you, and the only thing standing between you and a pretty full work week is a mountain of laundry and the unloading of the car.  (Unless of course you are like me, and you put off un-packing pretty much until you physically run out of clothes and actually need the ones still stuffed in your suitcase).

Of course I made it back to the valley just in time for the annual sweltering heat wave… as I lay here thinking about how it is too hot to sleep, I’m missing the mountain air and the dirt between my toes.

This is why we have mental health days.

Thank God for vacation. I’m scrambling around packing random things, and cleaning my kitchen so the person watering my plants doesn’t judge the week’s worth of dishes in the sink. I feel like I have never been more ready for a few days off, and a chance to get away to a change of scenery.

Today I finished up ten consecutive days of work, and I am ready for a mental break. Especially after the slight mental hiccup of last night. I was working an event, and I could practically taste my vacation days, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. So there I was in the office making an invoice, sending out e-mail photos to the press, counting bottles of wine, answering brides e-mails, writing notes to my boss about upcoming events while I’m out of town etc. So of course in my multi-tasking mode, I naturally answered the phone when it rang. Why I thought that I needed to answer the phone at 9:00PM I have no idea. Obviously the person calling knew we were not open, and she was expecting to get voicemail, and with all my balls in the air, so to speak, I was not exactly in the best frame of mind to be answering questions.

The woman on the other end started rambling on about how our website says that we are a great spot for photo shoots, and she started asking questions, which were all perfectly reasonable considering that it really does say that on our website. Sadly for this woman, it was at this exact moment that I seemed to lose all normal brain function. I could hear the words she was saying, but was suddenly utterly unable to answer anything she was asking/ really comprehend the conversation. Clearly this is exactly why my boss wants us to have at least two days off a week, so our customer service doesn’t suddenly take a downward spiral…

I was trying really hard to pull it together and answer this woman, give her a quote, a number, anything helpful, and I just sat there and stuttered and stammered, and made a complete ass out of myself. Granted, this is partially my fault, because if it says it on the website, I should be able to quote a price for it, but this was one of those things that we put on there, and of course no one has ever in the history of Red Ridge read that one paragraph on our website, and called us up and asked us to quote a price. No one!

I could hear myself muttering on, and I sort of panicked. I was kicking myself for answering the phone. If she had just left a message I would have picked it up in the morning, and I would have been able to reference the website, think it over rationally, check with my boss, and come up with a reasonable price, and call her back in a professional and timely manner. I would have had time to think and act rationally. Instead, my over-worked, over-multitasked brain just shut off, and so I simply stopped rambling and said the first thing that I could think of that would get me out of the situation quickly.  “Well, actually, I’m not the person who does events here, and so I cannot give you a price quote, but I would be happy to talk it over with her, and have her give you a call tomorrow.”

In a moment of sheer mental collapse, the only thing I could think to do was to lie through my teeth. Let me just say that I have been at this job for two-and-a-half years, and I have been the event coordinator for two. Two who years of experience behind me, and yet ten consecutive work days had turned my brain to utter mush! As soon as I got off the phone with her, I sort of chuckled, and then began to worry a little bit. My mental thought was "well that is one way to take care of it!"  and then fired off an e-mail to the woman who had put that particular tid-bit on the website, and asked her to please make up for my lack of mental capability, and quote this woman a decent price.

In my defense, had anyone else taken the phone call, almost the exact same thing would have happened (probably minus the stuttering and awkwardness). In general, all event phone calls go through me, even though there is a detailed event pricing guide in the office (but clearly not detailed enough) everyone directs all the event questions to me. Had she spoken with anyone else, they would have essentially told her exactly what I told her… And in a sense the event coordinator really was unavailable in that moment…

Thankfully everyone in my office completely understands where I was coming from. We are all a little frantic this week, and have been putting in a lot of hours, and it seems like we can never quite keep up with all of our projects. I came into work today and told my manager the story, and we both laughed about it until we cried. I still can’t believe that it actually came out of my mouth! Of all the excuses I could have come up with,  a simple “I’m not entirely sure of the pricing on that” would have worked, but instead I went to the lengths of denying my position… perhaps I was just desperate to not that the responsibility for a mere moment.  Perhaps I was jealous that everyone else on staff gets to use that explanation. Perhaps I need to take more mental health days… 

Thankfully my boss thought the situation was pretty funny, and her only comment was “hmmm this is probably a good time for you to go on vacation for a few days!”  The manager ended up calling the woman back, ( I was contemplating doing it, but thought it might be awkward if I tried to disguise my voice) and thankfully all ended well. At least we all got a good laugh.   You know you have worked too many hours when you flat out lie to customers about what your job is, and your ability to help them. In retrospect I should have just said that I was the night janitor or something.

Thank god for a few days off, filled with camping and beer, and the great out-doors, and no late night business calls.