book club at my house

I joined a book club in the summer of 2004.  It was, and is, a group of smart woman, whose common bond is the elementary school our kids all attended.

In the years since I’ve joined, a few woman have dropped out, and three people have been added.  We are now a group of ten.  It’s an impressive group by any standard.  We are lawyers, professors, artists, web experts, social workers and bankers.  One even manages her three sons’ emerging rock band.  We are married, divorced, and single.  We have big apartments and small ones.  We live uptown and downtown.  We have supported each other through marriage break-ups, illnesses, new homes, aging parents, job losses and gains.  We have watched our kids develop from elementary school to college and beyond.  We have shared heartaches and joys.  I think the books we read are really an excuse for getting together.

We meet every four to six weeks.  Tonight I am hosting.

I think I have many skills, but entertaining is not one of them.  I get nervous.  I don’t know what to serve.  I always over order as I would rather have too much than too little.  I am afraid people won’t have a good time.  I worry they will leave too early.  I am definitely not a natural born hostess. 

People start arriving about 7:30.  I bring out my camera and sneak a few pictures.

Betsy, Pennelope, and Andrea

with Melanie and Kathleen

with Pennelope and Andrea

The book we are discussing is a collection of short stories by Alice Munro, Dear Life. The general consensus, like so many of the books we read, is underwhelming. These fourteen short stories are given about fifteen minutes of discussion. The rest of the evening is about plays we’ve seen, books’ we’ve loved, current events, local politics, personal issues, kid worries, and careers.  It’s a lively, entertaining evening.

While I still have little confidence in my hosting talents, I am grateful to my guests for making the night a good one.  And, for staying so late.

another interview

I am meeting at one more real estate office.  This one is in East midtown, and their focus is on sales.  (I've decided not to pursue rentals).  

I am early, so I stop by Starbucks.  Four of us are sitting on stools facing the window.  One of us (not me) is talking loudly on her phone. I ask that person, a youngish Asian woman,  to please talk softer.  At that, she turns to me and says, “This is a public place and I have every right to be on my phone and talk as much and as loudly as I want.”  I respond, “Being in a public place is no excuse for rude behavior.”  She then calls me a racist. Yes, that must be it.  

After that little incident, I head over to meet Dan.  He is great.  From Long Island.  Kids the same age as Alexander.  Personable.  Candid.  Easy-going, and pleasant.  I can see working with him.

I like both Dan and Janice.  They are with the same company, Coldwell Banker Bellmarc Group.  Janice’s office is right around the corner from me; Dan’s is a few blocks further.  

I plan to make a decision next week.   I am anxious to begin my real education.

the storyteller

When Alexander was a little boy, he liked to write books. 

I would buy him hard-covered writing journals, and he would fill them with all kinds of stories.  He would begin by numbering the pages, and writing a table of contents.

He was an imaginative child, and one who could even punctuate dialogue correctly, something that escapes most adults I know.

All of Alexander’s books involve fantastical creatures fighting world-changing battles.  His first invented character is Georgie (a dog who eats a magical bean that allows him to talk).

Even at age 9, Alexander can draw better than I.

On the day before his tenth birthday, Alexander introduces Baba Dog, another dog who would feature prominently in Alexander’s books.

Alexander describes the book this way:

So it isn’t surprising that after a ten-year hiatus, Alexander is writing stories again.  He is taking a screenwriting class this semester and loves it.  Over break, Alexander outlines a smart but complicated story about two boys in the Middle East.  Alexander has not lost his interest in battles, but talking dogs no longer interest him.

I have suggested to my son that he write about what he knows.  I am his mother so he ignores this advice. But when his screenwriting professor offers the same advice he follows it.

Alexander is now thinking of writing a story involving a single mother and her relationship with her son.

I’m sworn to secrecy about the details, but it is very clever. We are talking about it when he says, “And I’ve thought about who can play you.”  Alexander always rates his stories (this one is PG-13) and casts them before he is finished.

“Who,” I excitedly ask, optimistically picturing someone like Sandra Bullock or Natalie Portman.  “Judi Dench,” my son responds. 

mutiny of the bountiful

This past summer my Weight Watchers meeting moved to a new location and got a new leader.  Roz is a perfectly nice woman but ineffectual at leading our group.

After giving Roz a fair chance, we expressed our dissatisfaction to her manager, Randi.  We wrote emails.  We started a Facebook page.  We called.  We met privately.  And still, no changes were made.  Some longtime members even quit Weight Watchers after years of loyalty.

So it’s been months.  Our group has stopped attending the 9:30 Wednesday morning meeting.  But we decide to come today to see if Roz has improved.  About fifteen of us show up.

Roz is cheery and bubbly, handing out bravos for any small victory.  “I walked by a pizza place today and didn’t go in.”  “Yea, let’s give Lisa a round of applause.”  Roz encourages a woman who tells us she’s constipated by asking if anyone else is having the same problem.  I lose my appetite for the VitaMuffin I’m eating.  Roz also poses thought-provoking questions.  “Can anyone tell me why we grocery shop?”  For this I walked ten blocks in sub-freezing weather?

But — it turns out that both Randi and her boss (no one can remember her name so I’ll refer to her as RB for Randi’s boss) are monitoring this class.  Perfect!  After the class, our large group approaches Randi and RB and we have an impromptu hallway meeting.  In short, we again express our concerns and frustrations, and we are again given corporate non-answers back.  But we are promised a response within two weeks.  We'll be told then if Roz can be replaced.

Someone asks RB, “And how will your decision be communicated to us?”  RB replies,   “I can’t answer that.  I’ll need to check with our HR Department.”  I bet she found the question about why we grocery shop a difficult one too.

Our great little group is not hopeful of a positive outcome. 

In the meantime, I’m up ten pounds from two years ago, four pounds from a year ago. I go to Fairway after the meeting and don't buy a chicken pot pie.  I am proud of the bravo Roz would have given me.

another company, another interview

As I think more about real estate, I think maybe I should explore doing rentals vs. sales.

With that in mind, I contact a large real estate company known primarily for rentals.  One of their offices is about three blocks from my home.  It’s an easy commute, even in bad weather.  The Senior Managing Director of this office agrees to meet with me.

I get to the interview and the person I am supposed to meet with can’t make it. Instead, I am introduced to his associate, a good-looking, charismatic guy named Daren.

The meeting — these really aren’t interviews — goes well.  Daren is personable, informative, and helpful.  But I learn some things I hadn’t known before.  First, there is an upfront charge to join the firm of $600.  Also, I’d be responsible, as an independent contractor, for advertising the properties I’d be trying to rent.  The estimated monthly cost for this is about $500/month.  No wonder it’s so easy to get hired. 

I’m really not sure what to do.  I’d prefer sales, but I’d be starting without a list of rich friends and relatives who are looking to sell.  Plus, it can easily take six to eight months to close on a deal.  Rentals are faster money.  But running all over the city, day and night, hustling after every listing, trying to get ahead of the $500 a month I’m spending — I’m not sure about that either. 

Funny, 75-hours of real estate classes and I don’t remember once being told I'd have to pay to get hired!  Oh well, I guess I'm still learning.