After so much violent and saddening news comes something amazing . . . Obama’s health care bill . . . the little engine that could . . . was backed by the House of Representatives yesterday.

[Insert happy dance!]

Congress voted 220-215 for a 10-year, $1.2 trillion plan to extend health coverage to some 36 million Americans who lack it now.

It’s truly a historic moment for all those who wish to see a positive change in this country and given last week’s events . . . one that is definitely needed.

Come on Senate . . . thirty-six million Americans without basic health coverage.  Now, it’s over to you!

“Let’s all end the call with a positive close . . .”

Those few words ended up becoming the bane of my existence at a previous job.

I held what was supposed to be a part-time, telecommuting position as an account executive for a very small PR firm.  When I first began, the partners of the firm had one weekly conference call with all the team members.

I was a bit thrown after my first one when I discovered they liked for everyone on the call to say something positive, be it work-related or personal, at the end of it . . . hence, the “positive close.”

Hmmmmm.

It all seemed a little forced and a bit too “cum-bay-ah” for my tastes, but when it came to my turn, I gave it a whirl nonetheless and managed to come up with some positive spin about me being excited about the opportunity to work for such a great company.

I know . . .  blah-dee-bloody-blah, right?!

In hindsight, that makes me want to hurl, but still I was naive and trusting and happy to give my 100% to what I thought were great people.

Funnily enough, neither of the owners of the firm were particularly positive in their natural, day-to-day personalities . . . they both kind of bitched to me about everything, so I think they most likely ended the conference call this way because it was something they had been advised to do . . . . or read in a book . . . or took from a class they attended called Team Building 101.  Just sayin’.

Over time, as more clients were added to the roster so too were the weekly conference calls . . .  and, yes . . . the positive closes.

Three to be exact.

Three out of five working days . . . spent listening to everyone’s mind-numbing and moreover time-consuming positive closes.

Now, I’m a pretty positive person, but in my humble opinion, I thought this was taking it to the extreme . . . especially when some people’s positive closes could take almost five minutes or more.  By this time, I was working upwards of forty hours  a week trying to stay on top of a detail-oriented workload that needed to be completed in a timely, informative and creative fashion.  And, quite frankly, I did not need to hear that somebody was getting a new dog or that they were excited to be going shopping for a new dress or that they farted and it didn’t smell nor did I need to share my own mundane snippets of life such as that my littlest one had finally gone poop on the potty — oh yeah, I dared to go there!

Once or twice I thought about just passing when it came to my turn, but alas I never did!  I’m just too polite for that kind of behaviour.

It did end up becoming all a bit torturous and I would end up cringing at the end of every conference call.  Yes, my skin would literally be crawling when those words were spoken . . . “let’s end with a positive close.”

I never confirmed it, but I think others may have felt the same way too as on more than one occasion a sarcastic comment or two was made to me.  So much for the moral boosting exercise!  All I can say is thank goodness for the conference calls and that nobody could see my body language or the rapid eye-rolling.

When I gently suggested to the owners that maybe we cut the positive closes back to once a week so as not interfere with the clients’ demands, it was met with hostility and I was told that the work needed to get done . . . regardless.

In the end, this turned out not to be the company for me . . . the job I ended up doing in the end was simply not the same one I had been hired for.  Too many changes, too many bosses and too many bloody positive closes.

And, on that note . . . my positive close is . . . . . . ha!  As if I’d go there!

If you’d like to join on this week’s topic over at Girl Talk Thursday, feel free to link up and vent all you like about your job.

Growing up in the UK, we didn’t celebrate Hallowe’en . . . at all.

I know, I know.

I can just hear the collective gasps coming from you all.  Never fear for we had something equally if not more bloodcurdling to look forward to . . .

. . . Guy Fawkes and Bonfire Night.

Aaaah, that annual celebration brings back such warm memories of British folk gathered round bonfires every November 5th to commemorate the infamous Gunpowder Plot of 1605.

For those not in the know, the Gunpowder Plot was a failed assassination attempt by a group of provincial English Catholics intended to kill the King and most of the Protestant aristocracy by blowing up the Houses of Parliament during its opening ceremony.   The plot was actually led by Robert Catesby, but it was Guy Fawkes who gained the most notoriety for his involvement because he was in charge of its execution.  Fawkes was arrested in the early hours of November 5, not long before the planned explosion after an anonymous warning led to a search of the cellars underneath Parliament.

The day the plot was discovered, Londoners were encouraged to celebrate the King’s escape by lighting bonfires in the city and thus began a tradition that has taken place across the UK ever since.  These days, an effigy of Fawkes or a “guy” is burned and then usually followed by a fireworks display.  When I was younger, you would take the “guy” door-to-door requesting “a penny for the guy,” however I don’t think the British kids of today do that anymore given safety issues.

I have some great memories of Bonfire Night  . . .  we’d usually gather with friends around a massive bonfire that took place on Tate Hill Beach in Whitby.  I’m not talking a tiny little beach fire pit — I’m talking a humongous bonfire built up over the few weeks preceding its momentous lighting on Bonfire Night.

We’d eat jacket potatoes cooked on the bonfire, break our teeth on toffee apples, play with sparklers and listen to the laughter and songs of the crowd.  We rarely built our own homemade “guy” to bring . . . although I think my brothers had a go a couple of times, but there was always enough to throw on the bonfire anyway.  Funny that no grown-ups ever really worried about the children disappearing in to the fire or the cold North Sea.  It was always a late night and when all was done and burned to the ground, we’d walk home . . . tired, but smiling and be fast asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow . . . the smell of bonfires still thick in the air.

Remember, remember the fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason and plot,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.

Don’t worry, we shan’t be lighting any massive bonfires at my abode today, but jacket potatoes will be involved in the evening meal and a history lesson shall be given to my boys about the foiled plot.

Happy Bonfire Night to you and yours!

Oh, Hallowe’en . . . you come but once a year

Bringing with you much trick-or-treat cheer.

Excited, giggling costumes wander door-to-door

Hoping for truckloads of candy and more!

So, how was yours?  We ate too much candy . . . as you do . . . and now trying desperately to ration the boys’ candy out over the next 12 months.  Failing miserably, I might add!

FYI — 1st, 3rd and 4th photos courtesy of Gone Bananas.  I was a little too busy to take too many photos — mixing Pinot Grigio and blood orange Italian soda cocktails is hard work ye know!

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How I heart Tuesdays . . . where I can let all my randomness hang out with sheer abandonment.

• So, I’ve been enjoying jamming to some old school Madonna with my boys.  I purchased her latest album Celebration and evidently they are well impressed with it.  Funny to see them kick it to songs that I danced to when I was a young, innocent teen.  *sigh*  Anyway, the album is fab, but where, oh where is the song Borderline?  It’s one of my favourite all-time Madonna songs and I really think it should have been included.
• We’re trying a new dinner schedule in the household.  The hubby rarely makes it home for dinner these days and the boys come home from school absolutely ravenous, so I’ve decided just to feed them their evening meal as soon as they traipse in the door.  Then, I’ll hold out till the big man gets home and we can eat together.  Day one didn’t go so well as I got hungry at 6 p.m. and had to eat, but will try again today.
• My dog is getting ridiculously greedy these days . . . he is a beggar and I know, you are probably thinking well, aren’t all dogs beggars?  Yes, they are but lovely old Bingo takes it one step further . . . he’s a loud beggar.  He will think nothing of staring at anyone in my home who has food and whining . . . very loudly.  I need the dog whisperer to come and tell me what to do coz I think we’ve exhausted just about everything else.
• Florida decided to have another out-of-character hot and humid days this past weekend . . . when we had opening soccer ceremonies.  Sitting in the hot, sweltering sun . . . made for not a happy family!!  We got over-heated and retreated to the air con until my oldest son’s first game.  It ended in defeat, but very proud of him that he managed to play in that heat.
• I managed to squeeze in a pedicure this weekend and it was pure bliss.  When I got home, my little one was asking me what colour I got so I set about explaining what a French polish was to him.   Now, he is going round telling everyone I got a French fry pedicure!
• I hate to admit it, but I was a little crabby this weekend.  No, I can’t blame it on that time of the month . . . I actually thought it was on account of detoxing from all the Halloween candy, but I have another theory.  I think I’m think I’m having a mid-life crisis.  I mean, I am turning 40 next year!  Doesn’t everyone go through this?  Is it my time to have tantrums and buy something really crazy like say, a convertible car.  And, do I need to sit my kids down and say boys, so sorry but mummy is having a mid-life crisis?  She’ll get over it in a year?
• I’ve also been a bit of a nag this week.  Some days it feels like I am the only one around here trying to keep some semblance of a tidy home . . . the one tidy boat in a sea of messy testosterones.  How on earth did my mother manage with four of us I wonder?
• Day three of NaNoWriMo is going okay and we’ll just leave it at that.

Feel free to let your own randomness hang out today and if you do, head on over to The Un Mom to link up.  Happy Randomness to one and all.

For this week’s Musical Monday, I’ve chosen a song that’s been weighing on my mind a lot these days . . . I Am, I Said by the amazing and timeless Neil Diamond.

*sigh*

L.A.’s fine, the sun shines most the time
And the feeling is ‘lay back’
Palm trees grow, and rents are low
But you know I keep thinkin’ about
Making my way back

Well I’m New York City born and raised
But nowadays, I’m lost between two shores
L.A.’s fine, but it ain’t home
New York’s home, but it ain’t mine no more

“I am,” I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair
“I am,” I cried
“I am,” said I
And I am lost, and I can’t even say why
Leavin’ me lonely still

Did you ever read about a frog who dreamed of bein’ a king
And then became one
Well except for the names and a few other changes
I you talk about me, the story’s the same one

But I got an emptiness deep inside
And I’ve tried, but it won’t let me go
And I’m not a man who likes to swear
But I never cared for the sound of being alone

“I am,” I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair
“I am,” I cried
“I am,” said I
And I am lost, and I can’t even say why
Leavin’ me lonely still

I’ll never forget the day it happened.  Almost 27 years ago to the day, I walked in to my first middle school class and was seated alphabetically . . . at the back of the classroom.  It was an English class and the teacher, Mr. Parkin who to this day remains one of my favourite teachers ever, wrote his name on the chalkboard.

And. I. Couldn’t. Read. It.

The words were blurry.

It’s a day that I should have seen coming . . . given my genes and all . . . but I was still in shock.

Somehow I was able to hide my blindness until the school had their annual eye and hearing exams for all the students.  Failing miserably, a letter was sent home with instructions for my parents to make an appointment with the local optician.

With only one NHS optician in my hometown, you can imagine the selection of frames I had to choose from.  Thus, my first pair of glasses resembled a cross between Deirdre from Coronation Street . . .

. . . and  Sally Jessy Raphael.

The shame of it — those ugly, peach glasses gave this awkward, amazon teen nightmares.  For a long time!  I quite rightly hid them and squinted until I was finally allowed to get contact lenses!

As I grew older, I continued to ignore my specs. . . in fact, when I was forced to pick out a new pair I’d literally take seconds to do so and then they would spend years tucked away in a drawer somewhere only to be brought out when I was suffering terribly from some malady or another.

They were all pretty bad taste with styles that varied from Harry Potter . . .

. . . to Ugly Betty.

But, with age comes a wiser, less vain momma . . .  yes, the older I get the more I find I’m wearing my specs.  And let’s face it, glasses are so much easier to wear than contact lenses are to stick in my eyeballs!  I now treat shopping for new glasses like I’m on the hunt for a new, cute accessory or outfit, however unlike when trying on some clothes, you can’t really ask if glasses make you look fat.

Or can you?

I take a little more time these days looking for the perfect pair of glasses . . . scouring the ‘net, looking through fashion magazines and window shopping.  I randomly visit optical shops trying on glasses after glasses and have been known  to ask some poor, unsuspecting, bespectacled fashionista what style they are wearing.  And, I try not to think of that gawky 12-year-old who sat at the back of the class . . . squinting at the chalkboard . . . covertly wearing those ugly ass glasses when she absolutely had to.

For my latest pair, I was going for the Tori Spelling geek chic look.  Minus the pigtails!

So, I ask you . . . do these glasses make me look fat?

So, there’s been a lot of excitement in our house today . . . no, unfortunately not the happy kind.

It started with me waving my boys off to school on their bikes.  Moments later, there was a knock at the door and I opened it to find my oldest son there . . . one look at his face and I knew something was wrong.  He could barely get the words out, but managed to tell me that my middle son had hit a bump on the road and gone over his bicycle handle bars and hit his mouth.

Bad.

I feared the worse when he told me “and, there’s blood everywhere.”

I quickly ran out to the van and got round the corner to see my baby sobbing and pushing his bike down the sidewalk towards home. 

I got him and his bike home, cleaned him up and applied the obligatory bag of frozen peas to help with the swelling.  Thankfully, the blood wasn’t quite as bad as I was led to believe . . . oh the dramatic mind of a teen . . . but, he had chipped both of his beautiful front teeth and also scraped his chin, knee and lips.

Without hesitation, our dentist agreed to see him.  She put a temporary bonding, or band-aid if you will as she explained it to him, and said all will be okay.  He now has an appointment in four weeks to permanently fix the teeth provided his  mouth heals perfectly.

As soon as the bonding was put on, I could tell he was feeling better . . . although it hurt to smile  . . . he was much happier leaving the dentist than he was walking in there.

And, I am left wondering if he hadn’t inherited my goofy front teeth, would he have injured them the same?

There once was a little boy . . . who thought he was a puppy.

And, when Halloween came around, what did he want to be for that annual hallowed celebration but a puppy, of course!

Alas, this was not the year for puppy costumes . . . but his Grandma . . . . the most amazing, loving Grandma ever . . . made it her mission to find the cutest puppy-like outfit that she could.  She spent days scouring stores until with only hours to spare before his Halloween party, she came upon the most perfect puppy costume.  Excited, she presented it to the little puppy boy who promptly told his exhausted Grandma . . .

“No thanks. I want to be a pirate.  Just like my bruvver.”

No matter how his mummy and Grandma tried to coerce and bribe the little puppy boy in to wearing his new puppy Halloween costume . . . he was having none of it.

And, off he went . . . to create his own pirate costume . . .

. . . so he could be just like his brother.

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Random.  . . defined as proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern.  Yep, that pretty much sums up my Random Tuesday Thoughts.

• I took my boys to see the movie Where the Wild Things Are last week.  I could get all deep on you and say that I think the wild things represented the uglier parts of humanity or perhaps Max’s personality, but I won’t.  Enough said.
• I’m waking up very early these days.  What’s up with that?  Is it because I’m getting older?  I mean isn’t that what you do when you get old?  You wake earlier and earlier to go catch that early bird special or something?  I should go for a regular early morning work-out, but I don’t.  Maybe tomorrow . . . coz today I have an appointment for a blue rinse.
• Soccer aka footie season officially started last week for my oldest son and his first game is coming up this weekend.  I can’t wait!  I love being a soccer mom and sitting on the sidelines cheering my boys.  My middle son decided he didn’t want to play soccer this season though — he wants to try flag football.  Thankfully, that doesn’t start until January so their games shouldn’t overlap too much.
• I took my oldest boys for their annual doctor appointments . . . apparently both passed the hearing test portion with flying colours.  Hmmm, wonder if doctors should actually start doing a listening test?
• Lately, I’m enjoying the reruns my local PBS station has been airing of the Vicar of Dibley –it’s hilarious and I love the jokes at the end of each episode.  I forgot how funny and talented Dawn French is which reminds me that I really must read her new autobiography.

• Anyone who was alive in the 80’s remember the series V?  Well, I loved it and am looking forward to the remake that starts next week!

• Last week, my OCD finally kicked in and I succumbed to cleaning up the farm that my youngest son had started on my Facebook account.  I’d ignored hundreds of those Farmville requests until I took a look at the sorry state of crops and just had to intervene.  I must confess that it’s now hard for me to let him play it now.  I know.  Mean mummy!
• Did you read the latest research about the ‘net?  Evidently, it’s good for your brain!  Yeah!  No more guilt trips for mindless internet surfing, right?

So, how did you enjoy my proceeding, made, or occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern thoughts?  Definitely no aim in the above drivel!  If you have any of your own and would like to join in, head on over to The Un Mom and link up.