Thursday, August 21, 2008
Divorcing work diet
Who knew I didn't have to break up with you to lose weight. I just had to break up with my job. Since my former job parted ways with me last week, I've shed 4 pounds. How did I do it? The loss of appetite from losing my job, the increased veggie and fruit intake with my children, more time to walk/exercise and, of course, the girls who are always 5 steps ahead of me.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Ring ring
The call.
When you're in high school--and small things are of earth-shattering importance--the call usually comes from that cute boy you like. Toward the end of college, the call is your first job offer, and you move, in the moment, from one world to another. As you get older, you receive different types of calls, sadder calls, disappointing calls: "You're not pregnant." ... "Your father-in-law has brain cancer." ... "Your mother has been hit by a man driving a pick up truck. She's brain-dead. There's no hope."
Then, there are calls you've been praying for: "You have a daughter from China. She's from the Jiangxi Province. She's beautiful with big eyes and a round face. She's driving a toy car to come see you." or "You're pregnant. Congratulations."
There's also the dreaded call.
With mass layoffs in the newspaper industry, in particular at my home, the Chicago Tribune, I feared getting that call. Last Friday morning, the call came at 10:43 a.m. It was one of the editors--the person who hired me 6 years ago--saying due to the economy that it would be my last day. Calling me a "terrific employee " and "too good a person," he unfortunately was calling to say goodbye. 6 years and more than 200 articles...gone in few seconds.
Join me as I explore my possibilities, write about life with my two girls and comment on everything from parenting to trends to whatever is on my mind. Athena (who calls herself "Eena") and Kallista (who Athena calls "Baba") make calling anyone impossible.
Call me, or, on second thought, post a comment here.
When you're in high school--and small things are of earth-shattering importance--the call usually comes from that cute boy you like. Toward the end of college, the call is your first job offer, and you move, in the moment, from one world to another. As you get older, you receive different types of calls, sadder calls, disappointing calls: "You're not pregnant." ... "Your father-in-law has brain cancer." ... "Your mother has been hit by a man driving a pick up truck. She's brain-dead. There's no hope."
Then, there are calls you've been praying for: "You have a daughter from China. She's from the Jiangxi Province. She's beautiful with big eyes and a round face. She's driving a toy car to come see you." or "You're pregnant. Congratulations."
There's also the dreaded call.
With mass layoffs in the newspaper industry, in particular at my home, the Chicago Tribune, I feared getting that call. Last Friday morning, the call came at 10:43 a.m. It was one of the editors--the person who hired me 6 years ago--saying due to the economy that it would be my last day. Calling me a "terrific employee " and "too good a person," he unfortunately was calling to say goodbye. 6 years and more than 200 articles...gone in few seconds.
Join me as I explore my possibilities, write about life with my two girls and comment on everything from parenting to trends to whatever is on my mind. Athena (who calls herself "Eena") and Kallista (who Athena calls "Baba") make calling anyone impossible.
Call me, or, on second thought, post a comment here.
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