Ch-ch-ch-changes

Things are not grand at work. We've had some issues with a couple of technicians that have cast a shadow of gloom on everyone who remains. Thursday, the skies clouded over and I sat alone, listening to the phones not ringing, and pondering what 2010 will bring. We're whittled down to "any fewer workers and we won't be able to run this rodeo". But that matches the number of jobs I'm booking, so maybe it's fortuitous the renegades keep firing themselves. At a staff meeting in November, David mused that he was concerned Mr. and Mrs. General Public would forego carpet cleaning this holiday season and tell their visiting in-laws to forgive the dirty carpets, it was a question of that or gifts. I hate it when David is right.

Monday night, Stephanie tore me up at my massage and we spent a long time trying to identify what I had done to myself to mess up neck, pectorals, trapezoids, shoulder and arm so badly. Tuesday, I was in misery from so much trigger point work. I went back Wednesday evening and she resorted to the big guns - structural massage and more trigger point work. There were probably 50 triggers to be dealt with, many of them in the pectoral muscles. Melting trigger points in the pecs feels much like being jabbed hard with a large needle. I don't care for it much. Concerned about how "crudded up" (insider massage therapist talk) I was, Stephanie pulled my chart to find out when was the last time I was so twisted up. "Limes, what was going on during these dates?" I told her and she closed the chart. "I think you have December holiday distress issues, Limes. That's why you're such a mess." Oh. She had me lie back down so she could do some craniosacral and energy work. She asked me if I'd like to tell her some of the traumas. I gave her the sanitized version of how it all happened. I delivered it without any tears or anger. Unusual for me. I was just able to tell the sad story. When I was dressed to leave, Stephanie asked me to do something. She wants me to do something nice for myself, give a holiday gift to myself, and tell her about it next week.

I had to disengage from an unhealthy situation this week. I didn't enjoy it. And I couldn't respect myself if I stayed in it one moment longer. So I took the first necessary step, at the holidays. I don't like it much. And I wasn't liking myself much, either.

It would be easy for me to slide into a puddle. I've had to work actively not to do that. When the office is too quiet, or when a potential customer has pulled me through the eye of a needle and I still didn't book the job, I get up and clean one office window, or dust a bookcase or use my weights and bands. I brought a hula hoop to work and plan to use it to get some of the good blood and energy flowing. I'm safe. I can see anyone approaching the door and can quickly discard my pink, plastic, noise-making, light-flashing CosmoHoop.

So, gathering my thoughts, planning a blog post or three, organizing my emotions on the shelf in alphabetical order . . . what am I going to do right now, today?

In a quiet moment when none of the "children" were present, David talked to me about my future if our business fails. He has yet another business venture on the horizon. He's attended the seminars, met the CEO, done his research. He will hit the ground running at the first of the year, and Limes will be building a new business from the ground up ~ budgets and systems, checks and balances, websites and marketing. He has sufficient business interests that I will not be on the streets. I am worried about home dudes. If the carpet cleaning division does not stay afloat, they will be competing in the same job market as thousands of other Las Vegans. I've stopped trying to control any of this. I don't do anything other than what David tells us to do. "Do what we do. Do it as well as we do it. Come back and do it the next day. We will get back as good as we put out." I plan to tell him today that I've never before surrendered my fears and just followed someone I believed in. I couldn't do that with/for my husband. I can do it now with/for me and with/for us.

During the past year, we've bought and swapped ever larger, more luxurious bird homes across two households and it happens that I have a very nice small-ish one cleaned and sitting empty in my living room. Yes, I know an empty bird home isn't decor. I've also had my eye on a little treat for more than a year, but when the economy scared me, I stopped lusting after it. I made that promise to Stephanie about giving myself a gift . . . . so today, that empty bird home sits in my car where Vicente will have to clean around it. And tonight I will stop at PetSmart. Bloomsbury and Benson need some feed and treats. And I need to finally buy the zebra finches. They're the most beautiful things I have seen in a long time. They are exuberant singers and tiny - not four inches long. They like to live in colonies, and as I look at the bank balance and credit cards, I'm hoping 3-4 birds might constitute a colony.

This morning I made the predawn Wal-Mart pilgrimage. I detest giving those people my money and I loathe going there at holiday time. However, I've sacrificed some of my finer sensibilities in favor of low prices and if I go at 4:30 a.m., I can avoid the crowds. This requires me to get up at a shocking hour to fit in my walk. But the payoff is getting to watch the collection of humanity that shops at Wal-Mart in the middle of the night a week before Christmas. I'm sure they think I'm a specimen, too. I bought a basket full of camping necessities that will make for a smooth desert solstice celebration. Mantles and fuel and tent stakes . . . funny, no one else shopped in the sporting goods section at 4:45 a.m. In one week, we'll be pushing off about now. I need to organize the menus and gather the colored pencils, the books.

Happy holidays, everyone.

In my ears right now: Oh, you knew this. It's still Cyndi Lauper and Peter Kingsbury doing Walk Away Renee. I shouldn't play it any more.

Something that charmed me: Vicente and Lucy own very good mobile car detailing equipment and supplies. They wear uniform shirts and present well. They both charm me for all manner of reasons, but I have enjoyed watching them shift the way they do business in a tight economy. I was always "honey" to them. For more than two years. Take the keys, return the keys, take the check: "Thank you, honey." Most recently as we have pantomimed about hard prospects for business, I have noticed something they now do invariably. They call me "Limes". They use my name. And they take my hand and grasp it for just a moment. I like it. I respect them. They've got savvy. They're doing it just the way we're doing it. The very best they can.

Something that doesn't charm me: I don't hula hoop very well. I did 45 years ago. But I know how to learn things.