A Shepherd's Prayer (or Stefani's Prayer)

So, is this it? Really? Because I was expecting something a bit more grandiose. Something more, well, just plain bigger.

This seems so simple, almost too commonplace in a way.

I realize this is a big deal, everything that is going on around me is meant to be- as it is- and I don’t want to miss any of it but in so many ways I feel like I already have.

So, this IS it. I know it is. I just wish I could see how I was a part of this bigger picture I know that I AM a part of. And I wish that I didn’t feel so lonely and lost and misunderstood. How will anything I do or say make an impact on what is to come? And what do I have to offer anyway? I’m not wealthy nor do I hold a position of power. I’m not talented or well known or even well liked for that matter. I’m just me.

I expected a very noticeable stopping point in my life- my desires, wants, fleshly faults to suddenly alter overnight; a feeling of being changed. A feeling of where the old ways end and the new ways begin.

But that hasn’t happened. I’m still me: a bit insecure struggling with self-loathing and anger and wanting more than I already have.
I am just one person, and I DO believe, but I wonder if I have the capacity to believe enough, or to trust enough or to follow enough. I have Faith and I know Truth, but I’ve seen very little of either in the lives of those around me. I’ve seen miracles and experienced God’s presence & know he is at work all around me. I’ve seen enough to know Jesus is the Son of God.

So is it wrong that I feel like I’m on the verge- constantly on the edge of something really great that doesn’t quite come to fruition? Is what I’m going through right now another one of these times? (Photo credit marvelsphoto.com)

It's Finally Fall!

Autumn Movement by: Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things
knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes,
new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind,
and the old things go, not one lasts.

It's What I Signed Up For

I work as a receptionist. There I said it. I'm not too proud. I mean at one point I was too proud, but then I sort of got over it. I'm a writer who works reception at a Project and Cost Management Consulting Firm. There, that sounds much better.

The following are things that you may/ may not know about that person who answers the phone at your doctors office, law firm, CPA, sports club, finance advisers office.

1. We are the Gate Keepers. It really is the only thing we can control, so it's a pretty sweet gig.

2. Being the Gate Keeper means that we lie, alot. In any given day when I say over the phone, "He's not available" or "She's away from her desk" 50% of the time the employee has just told me, ---"No, no I don't want to take that call. Put it into my voicemail." The worst is when the caller figures this out and asks that I connect them to the employees cell phone. This requires more "pretending" where I act like I'm dialing the cell. Then announce, "I'm sorry I'm getting his voicemail on his cell phone as well." There's alot of acting involved in this job.

3. Don't call the receptionist Sweetie, Sugar, Dear. These are not appropriate. Ever.

4. Flattery will only get you so far. When you ask the receptionist, "How are you doing, today?" we assume you are a telemarketer, cold caller, or someone desperate for work or a job. Unless you are someone who calls daily, someone I've become chummy with- I immediately go into wrap this call up ASAP mode.

5. The Reception Desk is not the complaint desk. It is not our fault the copier continues to jam. We do not order the bad coffee. I can not help it if the temperature on your half of the floor is too hot or if your sandwich tray for your meeting arrives at 12:14 instead of 12:00 sharp. We are not to blame for the Internet not working, for your phone consistently dropping calls or the construction that may be going on on the floor above ours.

6. A Receptionist is not a Psychologist.

7. We don't have a paging system. This is not Wal-Mart or Pep Boys or a supermarket. Perhaps we will get off our toosh and walk around the office to see if the party you are looking for is actually at his/ her desk, if you are pleasant. Additionally, if the person is not at his/ her desk DO NOT ask their whereabouts, because it is unknown. Further, if the person does not answer at their extension when we are trying to transfer a call we do not know why. They could be on another call, in the restroom, getting more coffee, or simply not answering their phone.

8. Speaker phone is annoying. People who regularly use speaker phone come across arrogant and too important to be bothered to pick up the receiver. And just so you know, when you call on speaker phone the first syllable of most words you speak are dropped. Therefore, "Good afternoon. May I speak to Christopher Miller? This is Brandon Thompson," may sound alot like "Od afternoon. I eak to Christoper Iller? Is Andon Ompson." This is why we ask you "I'm sorry, who are you looking for?" and "What is your name again?" We can't understand you. PICK UP THE PHONE.

9. The reception desk is not a Communal desk. It is not Everyman's desk. You can not rummage through drawers or files at your discretion or advise on where things should be kept. Yes, we will help you, yes the reception area is a common area, but the reception desk is the receptionist's desk and your office/ desk/ cubicle is yours. If you do rummage you may find gum, straws, cough drops, the directory of everyone in the church choir, pricey organic teas, or emergency items. Emergency items include: band-aids, Advil, back up pair of pantyhose, tampons, dark chocolate, and deodorant.

10. People tell us stuff. We see stuff. We hear stuff. And we sort of see ourselves as the office mother. Do not take advantage. We like our down time- it's why we do what we do. We enjoy the time we have to paint our nails, do SUDOKU, update our blogs, shop online, write scripts, and watch YouTube videos of dancing troops - all the while trying to maintain the peace. "Good morning" and "Have a good afternoon" roll much easier off the tongue when we actually like where we work.

At home with family

My sister now lives in NYC. Have I told you that? Well she was here for the summer, went back to Texas to walk across a stage, shake a man's hand, smile for a picture and get her Master's Degree. Now she's back, for good; well, however long we are all here for. However long we can make it...

This city is insane, exhausting, and quite often I feel like the rest of the nation- or world for that matter-looks at us and thinks, "those idiots" or "those poor pitiful people, all stacked up on top of one another..." Just read (**language alert!**) this to fully understand. It's all true, but luckily I can laugh out loud at it.

So, she's here with me, stealing my jeans, borrowing my yoga mat, sleeping on my couch on the weekends and threatening to take my favorite Kenneth Cole black slacks. She's sneaky like that. (I'm still looking for my FREE underwear coupon I received in the mail from Victoria's Secret that has just disappeared...) I'm really happy she is here. And I'm happy that she is family and makes herself at home in our apartment, only because she sometimes cooks for us and leaves half empty bottles of really good wine and goes running with me along the East River. I feel old though- 30 years compared to her 24. I don't even remember being 24 years-old and it wasn't that long ago at all.

While wasting time one evening, in-between Pinkberry and dinner plans, we found ourselves wandering Rockefeller Plaza and St. Patrick's Cathedral. Mys sister had never been inside the church so I urged us in that direction. I love having my camera with me in the city, you never know what or who you might see and the city is SO photo worthy. So, visiting the locations overflowing with tourist, a guy offered to take our picture- of course. So we posed and laughed to ourselves.

It's funny because I doubt I'll ever feel like this is my home. I don't know, maybe I will- but even the concept itself seems so far out there. I can't really wrap my mind around it. This is New York City; it's not comfortable or relaxing or familiar or some place that I want to be- quite often. It's not what a home should be.

Lightweight

Last night I left the bedroom window open so Fall could creep in while I lay fast asleep- out like a small child in his mother's arms, head cocked to the side, arms dangling freely. I was recovering from the events of the night before: our office summer bash on a smallish yacht eating and drinking while floating around Manhattan.

It was worthwhile and fun and a nice way to be appreciated, although a bonus would be nice. Or a raise. Or a "Thank You" every now and again. Just yesterday I got a, "Not too bad of an effort at reading my handwriting" after typing a set of meeting minutes for one of the Senior Directors. All in fun I piped up, "That is the closest thing I'll get to a compliment from you," to which he responded, "That is a compliment." Obviously. Honestly, I do like it here and I feel I am treated fairly and respected- most of the time.

Even though I only had four glasses of wine- before 9:00pm - and the first one was a spritzer- I still ended up with someone named Debbie's credit card in my wallet. And my taxi driver (who was from the Dominican Republic) sold me a CD of himself. Singing. Spanish music. I only remembered this when Chris emailed me and asked who Miguel was and why there was a CD of his music on the bar in our kitchen.

But this morning I woke up feeling chipper as a meadow lark and actually a little happy that we are headed into Autumn. I have been saddened by the shorter days and pumpkin lattes and putting away of the flirty mini skirts. Not to mention the Christmas ornaments I saw on sale at Costco before Labor Day. But, it's time I guess. Time to move into a new season.

I'm going to miss wandering around just to wander in the sunshine. I'm going to miss berries and tomatoes and fresh seafood at the Farmers Market. I will be replacing lounging on the sundeck with standing at the bus stop in four inches of grey snow. I'll replace yoga and running in Central Park (those are my sunny activities) with weight-lifting and the boringness of elliptical machines and treadmills. Oatmeal will replace yogurt for breakfast and red toenail polish instead of pink.

Fall is my most favorite time of the year, but it seems to get bitterly cold far too quickly. I'm not going to dwell on that now, but revel in the excitement that comes with change.

Inspired

When I was young- like 8, 9, 10 I was always creating something. I remember going with my mother to places like Hancock Fabrics & looking at page after page of patterns for dresses. (That she'd make me, of course...)

We melted crayola crayons in the oven, made magnets out of beads, friendship bracelets out of bright thread. Once, I was really into making frames- hot gluing trinkets and ribbon and jewels to basic plastic photo frames. Then, it was bears. I'd make clothing for stuffed bears and dress them in "costumes:" Ballerina, Princess, Nurse. Always feminine roles these creations of mine, always girlie and pink.

I remember using puff paint on t-shirts, spatter paint on pajamas, and sewing by number.

Even now, when I see these numerically coordinated threads I just want to buy buy buy- and I have never even sewn. I mean I can sew on a button, but that is about it.

This weekend Chris and I did some back to school shopping in New Jersey at the Van Huesen outlet. While driving about and wandering through the suburbs we happened upon a place called AC Moore. Sort of like Michael's or Hobby Lobby (in the South) or Lee's Art World and Sam Flax (in NYC.) So, in addition to spending money on dress slacks and khakis and polo shirts and ties, we also purchased some canvases and charcoal pencils and glue and paint brushes and carving knives.

Then, The Chambers' were so excited and so ready to create and make that we were up until the wee hours of the morning Sunday morning rearranging our apartment and creating an "art space" in the far corner of our living room. It's a good space and we've already put it to use- rubber cement, wood shavings, and yarn abound. Why didn't we think of this earlier?

There is just something about having a space to create in, a space that I don't mind leaving in disarray- because it is a work space, afterall. If it happens to contain large windows that overlook the East River and out down First Avenue to the United Nations Building and the Chrysler Building & hundreds of tiny windows across the Upper East Side- it's quite a blessing; quite an inspiration.

Just Like Christmas/ or The End of Summer Legs

It's the Friday before Labor Day Weekend. It's the unofficial end of summer. It's like working on Christmas Eve, New Years Eve, or the day before Thanksgiving.

It's a tomb. It's dead, pointless to be here & very quiet. At our offices it is the last summer Friday which means going forward we will be closing at 6:00pm on Fridays instead of 1:00pm. It has been nice.

But today is the end, the end of summer, for me anyway. No more casual Fridays, no more listening to Fleetwood Mac on Pandora, perfecting Yoga moves or prank calling from the boss's extension. And as much as I wanted to wear my flirty, knit skirt today I just couldn't risk it. Hurricane Earl is supposed to make an appearance today and getting caught in a Second Avenue wind tunnel would not be ideal, for me anyway.

Speaking of wardrobe malfunctions, does anyone else have as much trouble with lined skirts as I do? As a general rule, I do not wear my lined dress slacks in the summer. Most all of my dress slacks are lined - which makes them perfect for winter. Chris was suprised when we did the seasonal closet switch that I had grouped my dress slacks into "Winter" and "Summer." (As most New Yorkers, we don't have room for all our clothes in the closet at once.) But, the lined pencil skirt is sort of a nightmare at times. Seriously. First, I have to fight with it's constant desire to spin around my waist. This is most probelmatic when walking briskly to the subway in the mornings. By the time I get to the subway the side zipper is at my bellybutton and the split in the back has moved above my left knee.

Additionally, the silk lining sticks to my sweaty legs and starts to crawl up and this makes me think my skirt is actually creaping up, not just the lining, which makes me start tugging downward on my hemline. For about 15 blocks. It's gross. I'm glad those days are numbered.

Summers ending. Schools beginning. Leaves will be doing there leafy thing very soon.

Things I've been up to

The highlight of my week was probably my First for women photo shoot in this lovely loft space in the lower west side. Fabulous.

I've been spending every minute of my hour long lunch break in Bryant Park basking in the last days of summer. Even if it is 93 degrees and I can barely breathe- I don't care. It is fleeting and as much as I love fall, I love 70 degree fall. I don't love 60 degree, cloudy, windy fall.

Chris has returned to work this week, although our schedules are still a little abnormal. His 9-3 workdays are ideal, for him, however that will all cease when the kids return next week. Early mornings, packing lunches, dry cleaning bills and making a thermos of coffee each morning. Fun.

Still no phone. Still need a haircut. I've bought some artsy canvases and cut out things but haven't started creating yet. Still have a VW station wagon for sell on Craigslist. Still not ovulating. Still Still doing yoga- through October, when I can't be bothered to trek through the snow and wind and rain.

I'm looking forward to our anniversary fall trip the first weekend in October to Vermont. I'm anticipating our trip to Target/ COSTCO tomorrow where I will load up the back of the station wagon with huge quantities of paper goods, detergents, and pantry items. And I just can't wait for Saturday when we will head, in the car, across the river to New Jersey to visit Sonic, the Van Huesen outlet- for back to school shopping, a mall and dinner On the Border.