Customer service? What's that?

I'm in the midst of THREE unbelievably annoying situations with folks I do business with, and I've now resorted to an emergency breathing tactic to calm down. "Breathe, BREATHE, everything is okay. These are small, small things." But that's not the point. Can you believe:

• I get this letter from my State Farm insurance agent of 16 years. It goes like this: "I'm retiring, you see, and although I really enjoyed taking care of you all this time, it's time for me to move on." Next day I hear on the news that State Farm is pulling out of home owners insurance in FL. Now, let's be honest, are you really "retiring?" Guess I have to go shopping...for something really boring and expensive. Probably won't be as expensive as State Farm though. (There IS good in the bad!)
  
• I renewed a membership with a local film-related nonprofit over a month ago. After an e-mail and three phone calls, they've finally agreed to mail the member benefits I never received. After an initial period of just ignoring my contacts, there was a lot of suggestion that the error was mine and also that I was trying to double dip; something I deeply resent. "I can't believe they didn't give you your benefits when you renewed" is an exact quotation. So your memberships are down? Hmmmm....I may know why. You'll have at least one less renewal next year.
  
• Inhabiting the first place on my doo doo list is Sprint. Oh how I want to tell you the whole story. But I'll leave out all of the excruciating details of the saga, which all of us have probably experienced at some time or another. The bare bones of the story amount to a string of interactions with incompetent staff and poor website directives, the likes of which even Ghandi wouldn't have patience for. The worst part is, it's not over. I now have to clean up the crap they created before I can pull out. You SO wouldn't believe what I am dealing with here.

For the love of Mike, will somebody just give me a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream?

Hi! I'm a psycho!

There a few people I know who operate like this:

Tuesday:
"I care so much about you, and also love everyone in the world--everyone! Each and every human being in the world is my very best friend. Truly. But you are my best friend. And...you are brilliant!"

Wednesday:
"You are completely out of line and everything you suggest is stupid (including what I told you was brilliant just yesterday). And that last idea of yours tops it all off. STUPID! The ENTIRE WORLD is stupid!"

Thursday:
"I am a deeply caring individual, with a sensitive heart of gold. Did I tell you how much I care?"


Note 1: No, these aren't friends or family members.
Note 2: I don't take any of this personally, but really, isn't life too short for this doo doo? Are there meds for this?

Figure Skating & The Big Mistake

Husband would tell me the only mistake about figure skating is having it on the tube in the first place, but hey, I like it. Here's the only thing: it makes me nervous as hell.

Yesterday I discovered the national figure skating championships on the idiot box and seized the remote while husband was getting his kayak ready for "the big trip."

I felt very proud and alert watching these ladies take the ice, after years of committed practicing and with the knowledge that their entire futures hinged on five minutes of intense pressure.

When one of the skaters prepares for a big jump, I literally feel myself hunkering down. "Will she make it?" I think. And sure as the planet is blue and green, the second I conjure this thought in my mind, there's a splat on the ice. I couldn't feel worse if I did it myself...granted, I would splat even attempting to stand in a pair of skates.

The spectacle reminds me of my football fan mocking--those nut cases who insist that the kind of sub they're eating, the jersey they're wearing, or whether or not they watch the play can affect the outcome of the game. See husband, we're not so different after all. At least when your peeps fall during the Superbowl next week, they won't be so...on the spot. They'll soon be covered up by seven or eight 300 pounders who are piling on top of each other.

Are you a veterinarian?

While hanging out in Greenville, NC last weekend the conversation turned to the discussion of food. We were talking briefly about where to get good meatless meals, and for the first time in many moons, someone in the room turned to me to ask if I was a veterinarian. I felt unprepared since it had been so long since I last received this response. I was proudly able to muster my inward laugh and there was no visible leakage of it to the outside world.

I guess I am a veterinarian. Just like everyday citizens are doctors because they aren't that in to cannibalism.

The Toothpaste on My Sweater

I've been contemplating the things that really matter (and don't matter) today. The half dozen times I've instinctively reached up to cover my mouth as I think of some very pressing matters, I have felt something sticky on my sweater. It took me all day to look down and realize it was the remnants of toothpaste from this morning.

Several very important people in my life are close to cancer--it's either in their bodies or about to destroy someone they are deeply connected to. Two stories of this have come suddenly this week. And not one of the involved parties is "old" by the standards of our current life expectancy in this country.

I'm left with an incredible impression of how brave my friends are, of how stoically they are enduring the unknown. Even if death is imminent, there are questions of when it will happen, who will take care of those who remain, and how accommodations will be made or paid for. I am truly reminded tonight that I am grateful for good health, for a support network of family around me, and for the chance to serve by helping friends even in small ways. I'm hoping to do it justice and continue to ask myself, "What would I want and need from those around me?"

I'm also really, really sure that the toothpaste on my sweater doesn't matter, along with the tons of unimportant details I obsess about each day. Hopefully, with the full impact of so many who are being courageous in their challenges, it will firmly stick that I need to remain appreciative for the big moments and the small ones, hopeful in all things, and less concerned with the silliness I often fret over. You should too.

Baffling Fast Food Shorts

I'm not a huge fan of fast food as a 17 year vegetarian. But I occasionally go there with my eating habits since my time is spread pretty thin. There are some strange habits out there, and I'm guilty of many.

I always get a kick out of going to Chick-fil-A ordering a chicken wrap with no chicken. The fact is, the wrap has lots of lettuce, tomatoes & other healthy stuff. It's just fine without the chicken. But, by virtue of the item's name, it always freaks out the drive-thru people. They go through this whole ordeal, insisting that I answer the question of whether I want the charbroiled chicken, Caesar chicken or cool chicken wrap. They just don't get it that it doesn't matter...I don't want ANY chicken. For some reason, we always reach a mutual agreement that I want the charbroiled chicken (but without the chicken).

Today they told me it wasn't possible. "The wraps are made in advance," said the smooth drive-thru talker who can't deviate by one square millimeter from her programmed responses. But a little trip inside rectified the situation, and I found myself enjoying a nice, healthy wrap on the way to my next gig.

A co-worker has been telling me that she knows the location of every single Sonic in southwest Florida. Finally, I asked her what she likes to get there. "Dr. Pepper" was the reply. Hmmm....

What are your strange fast food habits? And don't tell me you NEVER eat it.

Really U.S. Airways, REALLY

The new tag line for today's air travel: Fly the Friendly Skies. At least we get you there.

I know it's been several years since I've flown, and things have to change every once in a while. But really, U.S. Airways, REALLY.

Do you HAVE to charge for one lousy carry-on bag? Is it really necessary to hit me up for two bucks just for a can of coke? And if you're going to be that cheap, for Pete's sake, make your flight attendants wear something decent. The Ugly Sweaters brigade just didn't cut it for me, U.S. Airways. I can recall nicely groomed uniforms and attendants who smiled like they meant it.

Would it kill you, Under Serviced U.S. Airways, to at least remember where we're going so when you recite your speech and add "Greenville" to the end, you can do it without a fumbling glance at your cheat sheet? When you have the nerve to tell me to calmly carry my seat to an exit and use it as a floatation device, I expect you to know where the hell we're going. And by the way, we're not going anywhere near water.

When I'm sandwiched between two screaming children, one of whom is violently kicking the back of my seat while parents do nothing to abate it, U.S. Airways, it would be totally cool with me if you said something on my behalf. Really, U Stink Airways, REALLY.

I guess I shouldn't complain. My flight back from Greenville, NC didn't plunge into the Tar River. (Okay, I guess that's one small water body we were near.) But now that I have a taste of today's "new" flying experience, I'll remember not to have high expectations again.

Magical Mystery Tour de Sarasota Ceilings

It's not often that I look up at someone's living room ceiling and find a magnificent replica of "Creation" straight from the throws of Italy. Tell me, Gropius readers, what's up with THIS?

When Ramsey Frangie moved into his home some time back, he didn't explain that one of its greatest features was the selection of angels transmitting heavenly vibes from overhead. It's been a while since I was first surprised by the sight of this permanent art fixture, but each and every time I walk into the living space, I am surprised and wowed anew.

(To the right, you see the famous cat Gropius--who was named in the midst of this blog's first week--being held up against the celestial backdrop.)

The fact that the place is aptly adorned like a true bachelor's pad, with simple furnishings--brown leather couches and a large, wall mounted flat screen TV--make the overhead art an even crazier sight. I am profoundly jealous that my house didn't come with a comparable feast for my skyward eyes.

I'd like to mine you for information. Know of any friends' ceilings around the Sarasota/ Bradenton area that are marked by the same artist's hand? What shall these ceiling angels be named? They are the guardians of Ramsey's abode.

Facebook Status Lines: We Can Do Better Than This

I'd like to challenge all of you Gropius readers out there to get a little more creative with your status lines on Facebook to make things more interesting. It might involve a bit of guts, but we can do it, troops! Here are some examples:

• Gropius Jones is not sad that Marjorie North retired. She was mean and snotty to the masses, and I've never understood her methods for determining what fits "her beat."
• Gropius Miller is planning a food fight at the Bijou Cafe. Be there at 8 pm tonight.
• Gropius Smith would like to tell you that if you've ever settled with "Gropius is" as your status, you're not that original.
• Gropius Frangie would like to purchase the molar sculpture from last year's bayfront art display and drop it on top of anyone who mentions a spring training team in Sarasota again. Can't you move on?

Consider it the Gropius challenge. And if you're not already on Facebook, for the love of Mike, do it today. It's a handy tool that promises to push the human boundaries of procrastination when you have a cleaning project, a work assignment or other looming obligation.

The Fashion Critics

Fashion isn't a favorite subject of interest for me, but I try to be presentable most of the time. And I do enjoy the award show nights to see how people in the limelight--who through their fame have automatically accepted the role of idyllic fashion displays--have adorned themselves.

During tonight's Golden Globe awards, the Queen Fashion Critics of the Universe, the Fug Girls, will be live blogging in their clever and vicious but hilarious assaults. I intend to keep track of it for as long as I can (while minimizing the screen to get a head start on this week's work at the same time of course).

I try not to wear anything too objectionable--like leggings, gaudy colors juxtaposed in the same ensemble, too much white after Labor Day, etc. But there are certain people in my life who keep me on track--people I can appeal to if I have put an outfit together and need to check my "matching awareness." Oddly, comically and thankfully, one of them is my 12 year old step son. He has a natural knack for what's too old-ladyish, what does and doesn't look good together, and what I should be punished just for musing at too long on the racks in the store.

He's quite a hoot to bring along on a shopping trip. Yesterday, while I was studying a short sleeved silk sweater with little jewels on the front, he told me it looked like a Power Ranger costume. People pay for that kind of comedy. I sure appreciate it. And it resulted in the good decision NOT to buy the sweater. Who's preventing your fashion faux pas?

What a Long Strange Week It's Been

Can't even describe how strange the week seemed to me. True, much of it can be attributed to the post-Christmas, post-New Year's return to work. But the rest was a little surreal as well. I've been asking myself the question "What's next?" a lot lately--not with a negative context but more curiosity and a growing desire for a change somewhere. Ever feel that?

Here's what I'm looking forward to "next," i.e. this weekend. It will be a calm one, but one I feel like I've more than earned.

• A trip to the good 'ole Barnes & Noble. I need a new book. Any suggestions? Cheesy, I know, but I do enjoy Oprah's Book Club books...they're usually just my type. Classic and thought-provoking is what I'm looking for.
  
• An adventure in cooking. That's right; you probably can't believe it. I am the most terrible, uncultured domestically disabled person around, but I have an urge to fix something tasty and deliver it to one of my favorite friends. (Watch out! You might not want to be the recipient!)
  
• Some time with the fam. I've hardly seen them this week. The young man needs a hair cut, and hubbie and I need to kick it up a notch with our exercise routines. We were good about it over the break, but after a full day of craziness at work, we both want to come home, plop on the couch and relax. A trip to Little Manatee River State Park might be in order...

I'm going to try to keep my bootie off of Facebook this weekend. It's become a bit of an unwelcome obsession. What are you up to, Gropius readers?

Alex Trebek Reality Check

This isn't exactly a news flash, but I just have to get it out: Alex Trebek is the most elitist pooper in the western hemisphere. Admittedly, I am a Jeopardy watcher--not every night, but enough--since I'm usually looking for something on the idiot box to mellow out my day around 7:30 pm.

In a phone conversation I was having with my father on the way to work this week, we were discussing Alex's most treasured moments on the show. They would be...

• Pronouncing a French word.
• Letting the third place contestant know that he or she will be the first one to select the clue after the break...precisely because his or her score is so low.
• Not laughing at a pitiful "getting to know you" story after the first commercial break when the contestant is desperately trying to be funny.
• Deducting points from a contestant's score after a break because one letter of the correct "What is....?" question was mispronounced.
• Basically anytime all three contestants fail to correctly respond, providing him the opportunity to nod his head, announcing the right question in the most flagrantly arrogant manner possible.

Did I miss anything?

The Old Routine & Post Holiday Blues

I really want to post about how much going back to work sucks after a relaxing Christmas/ New Year's break but I keep thinking, "Gosh, I'm lucky to have a job. How petty does it seem to post about that when some people don't have a source of income these days? I'm a complete ass."

So here it is: I'm not sure if it's work I'm so against. I love working and the sense of purpose it brings. (Plus, it's true, money is helpful if you want a place to live, food and other necessities.)

I think what actually irks me is something that I might have in common with most men--the fear and genuine distaste of commitment. Although I am committed to my work, commitment also means I'm trapped into getting up every single workday at 6:30 a.m., succumbing to the pressures of an office environment (where teeny tiny things can get on your nerves like nobody's business), spending only a minimal amount of time outside in nature, seeing more of my desk than my family and friends, and other annoying tidbits of nastiness.

What a doodie attitude to have for the New Year. But I'm being real here; it's just what I'm feeling. Anyone else?

Hanging with the Sleeping Turtles

I am firmly convinced: Sleeping Turtles Preserve is the best place to spend all or part of New Year's Day, especially with a friendly and knowledgeable group of birders and some great friends.

Today we took a short drive down to this Sarasota County owned treasure, an environmentally sensitive lands purchase from a couple years ago. We enjoyed large flocks of visiting Robins, a few Palm Warblers and Yellow-rumped Warblers, a distant Pileated woodpecker, an Eastern Phoebe and a Bald Eagle circling low over us as if to say, "Hey dorks...you want a bird? Check THIS out."

It was a morning you couldn't custom order any nicer...a little chilly with the slightest breeze. The shadowy path kept us cool and played tricks on our eyes as we scanned the trees for bird life and found enough gorgeous bromeliads to make Selby Gardens envious.

The enchantment of the place is very noticeable. It sounds corny, I know, but there's truly a feeling of peace and magic that anyone can feel. Here's a New Year's resolution for you: decide to pack a picnic at least once a month & start enjoying the land that's been preserved for your generation and all those to follow.

I'm thankful to have friends who enjoy nature as much as I do. Thanks for being with me today.