I”m taking a screenwriting class today. In a rush to get down to the Penn Station. Don’t want to miss the part on plot development. I’ve never been good at planning!
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Spring Is Here and I’m Sneezing
Rita is giggly. She’s probably picking up guys as we speak. She called me at midnight squealing,” I”m a cougar, I’m a cougar.” Oh no, I thought, now I have to deal with her adolescence.
“Pinkslip, I have another date on Friday” she said excitedly.
” Listen, I take it your not going to synagogue Listen. Don’t “put out on the first date. And don’t tell him whether you buy or rent. Keep him guessing. ” I said trying to be helpful.
Well, they say happiness is contagious. But I wasn’t. I was ashamed at my own schadenfreude for all these years.
“I feel like a teenager again” she yelled.
“Rita, I’m so happy for you!” I cheered.
But inside I felt miserable. Its just that I never thought that at this point in life I would be living with a canine. Don’t get me wrong. I’m counting my blessings. She’s blond and doesn’t talk back. I have shelter and kibble. But I never thought my life companion would have four paws. But then again, many people would consider that trading up.
Ugh, love is everywhere. Even my dog, Brie, has become a flirt. In fact, she has fallen in love with a Cairn terrier down the block. When he comes within a few feet of her, she pounces in front of him frantically, and then runs away. My mature terrier repeats this frantic ritual 3 or 4 times until totally exhausted. Then,. with her last burst of strength, she sprints down the street, dragging me like roadkill. She also started to wake up every morning at 3 am to flirt with the newspaper delivery guy. In the middle of the night, she listens for the “thud” that is her call to duty. Then, she jumps out of my bed like Bat Dog and arrives at the door within a nanosecond. First there’s the low guttural growl. ” Grrrr ” Then a soft “arf….arf.”
A little louder. “Arf…Arf….”
A little faster, “Arf…Arf…”
Now, she howls with a cute smile. “ARF! ARF!”
The newspaper delivery guy howls back through the door, ” AROOOGH!”
He leaves, and she whines until 6:00, when my alarm goes off. She then returns to my bed and stretches out on my pillow with paws in all directions, grinning. It’s time for me to get up and for her to get her beauty rest.
Angels On a Leash
It is an exciting week in NYC. Fashion Week. Westminster Dog Show. And Brie’s first class to be a therapy dog . Well, we’re both taking the class. We will both learn our names, how to obey commands, how to walk on a leash, heel, and…Heal. If we pass, we will receive an assignment to visit a patient who is receiving treatment in the hospital. (She will be the dog, and I will be the handler. At least to start.) David Frei, that great voice of the Westminster Dog Show, started this program, and it serves renown institutions throughout the country. Brie started to shake at the beginning of class. I thought I would have to take her home. Before long, I was running at the end of her lead. This creature who was transplanted to this concrete island only six months ago was was walking with sass and style. She was my “Best in Show.”
Professional “Searcher”
I’m back. It’s been a while and I can honestly say nothing much has changed. Unfortunately I still haven’t “found” anything. Except a few unwanted pounds. This is a bad dream. It’s like the U.S. has become this service economy with everyone selling insurance to eachother. I’m still searching. For the job. For the guy. And now… for the dog!
Westminster Dog Show
It’s winter and I feel out of my mind. I call T and start up with my stuff. “I’m going to end up on the street with my really nice wardrobe.” I’m having nightmares at night. I keep having this feeling that people are taking things out my refrigerator.
“That’s a nightmare. Its where you keep your shoes.” I know T was concerned. Let’s meet at the Barking Dog. Right now.”
“I’m on my way” I yelp.
My Personality!–January
I go to Flora’s apartment to get my test results and find out about my personality. Perhaps this test will help me finally understand who I am. I’m anxious. The living room is small but homey. I sit down and look around. I see pictures of her three children when they were teens living in Conneticut. As I sink back into a large puffy pillow, I note the crafts and small paintings she had collected, momentos of family holidays. I pick up some stray shells resting on the wood floor and cradle them in my hand. Flora looks serious, seated in her long caftan and crocheed hat.
“Pinkslip, I have your test results.”
“My personality. Is it serious?”
“Do you ofter feel confused?” she asks thoughtfully.
“I mostly feel confused.”
“Yes. This accounts for it.” she shakes her head soulfully.
“Tell me,” I brace myself.
“PinkSlip, You are an INFP. Introvert. An idealist. Dreamer. People like you account for less than 1% of the population.
“World or U.S.?”
“Not sure.” She sighs heavily. Princess Diana was won. If you get on the wrong track, there’s no way out. Yes, highly sensitive. Moody. So was Audrey Hepburn and Richard Gere. She puts on her reading glasses and ruffles through some papers. Come to think of it, so was Albert Schweitzer.
“Oh, what exactly did he do?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. But he was very giving.” She jumps up from her chair,A Ha! I recommend that you become an actress as a way to ha rness your creativity.”
“I think I already did that. As a child. And how would I earn a living?”
“Babysitting.”
“I don’t like children.”
“Then walk a dog. Listen, how much time do we really have left? You don’t want to have any regrets?”
“I already have regrets. (Thinking about my investment in this session,)
“Oh nonsense. Think about Colonal Sanders . He started Kentucky Fried Chicken when he was 70.
“He was an actor.”
The Beginning Of Enlightenment
I’ve become attached to my blue sofa . What should I do? Weeks have gone by and I’m exhausted. I’ve gone to every event imaginable–Internet Marketing Mondays, Solar Energy Ice Cream Bash, Private Equity Pre-Olympic Drinkathon–and not a single job interview. My apartment is filled with business cards. I don’t even remember who these people are. How can I expect them to remember me? I think I left my self-esteem at one of these events. In the coat room.
The phone rings and it’s Cora Flowers, a career counselor I met at my flurry of events.
“So, PinkSlip, how’s it going?” she asks blithly.
I do not want to have this conversation. (I’m even getting pity from my manicurist. She looks at me and in broken English says, “How sad. At least I’m busy.” Well, I cut back and only had one hand painted.)
“Lousy” I moan. There, I said it.
“Well, where do you want to work?” she asks cheerily. One of my clients networked herself into a co mpany in two days after she was fired.”
Oh, give me a break. “Nowhere, I don’t want to work anywhere. As a matter of fact, I want to be “The Harvard Dog Walker.” Six dogs on a leash. I’ll recite Chaucer to your pooch while they poop!”
“PinkSlip, you need help. Please let me help you. I want you to take the Myers Briggs Personality Test and Strong Inventory of Interests. I won’t take no for an answer. ”
I think, perhaps there is an answer…
The Poodle Girl Diet
At 8am the next morning I call Dr. G my internist. I speak with his assistant Shirley.
“Hi, Dorothy, It’s Pink Slip. It’s an emergency I must wee the doctor today.”
“What is it—H1N1?” she sounded concerned.
“No. I can’t tell you. It’s personal. But believe me, it’s important.” I pretend to cough.
“Listen Pink Slip. He’s really busy, but I”ll squeeze you in. Can you be here in one hour?
“Great. Thanks so much” I say in my best hoarse voice.
I squeeze on my jeans and run to the bus. I consider this to be my first day of excercise.
Within 45 minutes I arrive at Dr. G’s office.
“HI Ms. Pink Slip. How are you today?” Dorothy is a prim looking woman with large black glasses, who always appears dwarfed by the voluminous papers on her desk. “You can go into the examining room.”
Thanks.” I hang up my coat and cough.
Dr. G appears looking weary and harried. He’s a studious looking man in a white coat and bow tie with thinning silver hair and wire framed glasses.
“So?” He sits down across from me and crosses his legs. He pulls out a pad and is ready to take notes.
“Well, come to think of it, I could use some happy pills.”
“I can prescribe an allergy pill. What else?”
“I’m having bad dreams.”
“Just don’t go to sleep” he yawns. “Trying to get out of something? Jury duty?
“Actually, this is my problem. I’m fat. I’m just not getting picked up at the Harvard Club bar these days by loaded octogenarians.” I start to weep and he hands me a wrinkled tissue. Probably from his last flu victim.
“Tell me what you eat in a typical day. Like yesterday.”
“Well, I skipped breakfast. Had a fudgy cupcake for lunch. And, let’s see. A margarita, a corn chips, and a half of a beef burrito for dinner at Tia Mia.” ( An incomlete inventory. I know I ate the whole burrito. My shame would allow me to confess just so much.”
“Sour cream?”
“Yeah, but on the burrito.” I smirk. I didn’t tell him about the chocolate chocolate chip ice cream I ate in secret—even hiding it from Solace bear.
“That cupcake thing is juvenile. That’s a child’s palette.” We both pause and think.
“Let me calculate your Body Mass Index.” He pulls out a Blackberry, flips open a manila folder, and makes some focused calculations. “Hmmm, there is indeed a problem. “
I start to wail like I just lost my best friend.
“This is my suggested food plan. Ok, (he looks like he’s delivering military secrets). For breakfast, one apple and a sliver of cheese.”
“What kind?” I feel concerned. That’s a change in diet for me. I’m used to donuts and cupcakes for breakfast.
“I’m flexible. Gouda and Jarlsberg are fine.”
“What about lunch. I’m beginning to feel hungry.”
He glares at me, “No lunch. That’s a strict rule.”
“Oh please. That can’t be so. I’ll starve.”
He grins. “You’ll burn body fat. I do it every day. Too busy to eat. I told the girls in the office to do it and they cried.”
My stomach starts to growl. “I’m already hungry. This won’t work.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Dinner? I ask weakly.
“You know how to chop salad?”
“No.” For me icing is a vegetable.
“You’ll learn. Every night you chop lettuce. You like blue cheese?
“Yeah. But with a porterhouse steak.”
“You put 2 ounces cheese in the salad. Throw in another apple. And that’s dinner. The weight will melt away.” he punches his stomach.
“Wow. And what about exercise? ” I’m getting more disheartened.
“I don’t believe in it. I’m too busy to go the gym.”
“Oh, and every once in a while, throw in a really low calorie dinner” he shakes his pen.
“Lower than lettuce?”
“That’s right. One cup Cheerios and milk. That’ll keep you on track. Anything else?
“That’s not enough food for an upper east side NYC poodle!” That’s what I’ll call it. “The Poodle Girl Diet.”
Volunteer Assignments
I was inspired by the noble actions people have taken to help Haiti. We are all connected. So I start to think. What can I do to help? I look at some web sites. Cure the sick. That’s important. I look at New York Presbyterian Hospital. It’s in the neighborhood and there are doctors. I see a number of volunteer opportunities. Two stand out:
Milk Shake Service
Escorts
Jane Ranzman Writer 