jodiet.com Blog

I understand suicide. I know people who understand suicide. I know people who have been touched by suicide but do not understand it. They are unable to fathom anything could be so bad as to cause someone to end their life. What they don’t understand is rational thought does not apply. When you are in that place and when you are that depressed, there is no rationality – there is only the need to end the pain and find peace. It consumes you and eats at you from the inside out. I don’t think people really commit suicide because they want to die – more likely they want desperately to live but feel like they ARE dying.

I believe in choice. I believe in people’s right to make the ultimate choice to live or to die. I believe 90 year old grandmothers diagnosed with terminal cancer should be allowed to end their life when they choose (probably the most rational and logical reason for suicide). Even if someone chooses to end their life as a foolish permanent end to a temporary problem, I still respect their right to make that choice.

My cousin committed suicide slightly over eight years ago. I was in a meeting at work when I was interrupted by the emergency call from my mother. She told me he’d done it, put a gun under his chin and fired. His fiancé returned home from work in the morning to find him in his bed, dead. She didn’t know why; no one knows why and he left no hint as to why. Some think it would have had to have been something so bad, worse than anything they could ever even imagine. I think it could’ve been something much simpler. It could have been any number of things – it could’ve been he had everything he thought he’d always wanted but still was not happy. It is devastating to think you SHOULD be happy but no matter how hard you try you just can’t feel it. And maybe it was no reason at all – maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing; maybe he was acting in his sleep. His decision, if it was a conscious decision, was a mistake. It was stupid and cowardly. But when you love someone you support them when they make mistakes – you stand behind their bad decisions. And I do. I respect his decision even though I do not agree.

When someone dies in this way, you futilely search the smallest corners of your memory looking for a clue. You look for a reason and you look for a sign you missed. For awhile, you feel guilty. Was it something I did? Something I didn’t do? Did I ignore the warning signs? It is hard to accept never knowing why and it is harder to accept there was nothing you could have done to prevent what happened. Whatever the reason, his method of dealing with it was his decision alone. He decided; I had no control over that decision. I think at least part of the trigger for these guilty, questioning feelings is misdirected anger. The person who deserves your anger is no longer there to take it; there is no one to slap and tell, “What were you thinking!?! Idiot!” You are just left with an empty void for which you cannot explain the cause definitively no matter how hard you try. The only thing to do is try to learn from his mistake so his death was not in vain; to realize it is eight years later, I am still here, my heart is still beating, I am still breathing and even though I’ve had some hard times, I have had many blessings. All I can do is LIVE.

Most everyone has a culinary dish or two passed down from generation to generation; most of the time there are no recipes for these dishes. People learned to make them by watching their parents and grandparents who learned to make them by watching their parents and grandparents. One dish my mother and her siblings grew up eating was Chop Suey. My grandmother made it occasionally without a recipe adding some of this and some of that until she got it where she wanted it. Sometimes it was a little sweeter than others but the basics were the same: soy sauce, beef, Chinese vegetables, water chestnuts, brown sugar and a generous pile of crunchy chow mein noodles on top. Fortunately my mom had the forethought to watch my grandmother cook her Chop Suey and write down everything she did one day before she passed away sixteen years ago. A couple of weeks ago my mom made Chop Suey for a birthday dinner for my aunt.

On the day of the dinner, I started thinking about Chop Suey and wondered how my grandmother came to make it. Chinese food wasn’t as common as it is now; it was just within the past few years in my life I was able to find Chinese food recipes other than the common fried rice. She didn’t have any friends of Chinese or Asian descent that I knew about. I asked my mom and aunt if they knew how she got the recipe and why she started to cook Chop Suey but they didn’t know. So I got on-line and did some research. Apparently I’m not the first to be intrigued by this dish because I found an informative article published in the Journal of Transnational American Studies just last year on 2/18/2009 by author, Haiming Liu, at http://escholarship.org/uc/item/2bc4k55r.

Liu’s article traces the history of Chop Suey in America. He stated most Chinese restaurants in America from the turn of the 20th century until the 1960s were named Chop Suey House. During that time, people equated Chop Suey with Chinese Food. As with a lot of ethnic food in this country, Chop Suey as it was made here was not the same as it was in China if even there was such a dish in China which seems to be debated pursuant to what I could find on the subject on the web. This doesn’t surprise me as I learned long ago fortune cookies were invented here, not in China.

According to Liu’s article, Chop Suey had no standard recipe. A reference to a dish called Chow Chop Suey in 1888 translated into “to stir fry animal intestines”. Chop Suey was a homemade “humble” dish made from extra livestock parts among other ingredients which explains the lack of a standard recipe. In the ensuing decades, Chop Suey transformed substituting more ingredients more palatable to Americans like pork or chicken, became more popular and the namesake of restaurants which began to spring up throughout the country. Americans thought they were consuming an authentic ethnic dish when in reality they were eating something America essentially invented. Chop Suey as they were enjoying didn’t exist in China and in fact America’s Chop Suey was “introduced” to China in the 1940s. Surely the U.S. Army thought it was doing something special when it served Chop Suey to our troops as an “ethnic” dish in that time period as well. Chop Suey recipes were printed in newspapers from the 1910s to the 1950s. So this is how I imagine the dish’s birth in my family:

It was a random Tuesday in the late 1940s or early 1950s. It was late February; the winter was getting old, it was wearing on my grandparents and my young aunts and uncles who were running amuck through the house infected with cabin fever. My grandmother was tired of cooking meatloaf and was in the mood for something different. After packing my grandfather’s lunch, she sat down with a cup of lukewarm coffee to read the paper. In the home section, she saw a recipe for Chop Suey. She’d heard of Chop Suey, drove by the couple of Chop Suey houses in town but never stopped because she was afraid she wouldn’t like it and didn’t have the funds to waste on such a luxury. She saw the recipe called for beef, soy sauce and brown sugar; items she had on hand. It didn’t sound too bad so she thought she’d make it for dinner that night. She went to the local grocer’s or maybe ethnic food store to purchase the Chinese vegetables needed. She followed the recipe in the newspaper for the most part leaving out those ingredients she knew she or her family did not find appetizing. My grandpa was disappointed to not see his usual meat and potatoes upon returning from work but his relatively new bride seemed pleased with herself so he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. The kids ate it, picking out the vegetables. As the children grew they began to request the dish, enjoying it more and those who didn’t simply skimmed the sweet beefy gravy off the top to eat with the chow mein noodles. Perhaps my grandma used the recipe an additional time or two but after that, maybe she lost it but found she didn’t need it any longer. So she went on making the Chop Suey from memory occasionally throughout the rest of her life. Then one day in her late 50s her daughter asked to observe the Chop Suey making process; the daughter now holds that legacy to share and pass on to her children and grandchildren.

The history of food intrigues me; I remember my mom and aunt talking about the first time they had tacos. I believe my aunt bought the ingredients and announced they were “going to try something different called tacos”. Now, tacos are common with numerous other Mexican dishes and salsa is bigger than ketchup in the condiment race. The foods invented in my lifetime to this point have got to be those cooked by microwave. Who knows what foods will surface in this century – maybe something cooked with solar energy or something where you just push a button to heat without a stove or microwave like those coffee drink and soup products I’ve seen occasionally. Whatever it is, it is likely to add to my bottom line. Or maybe it will be a candy bar with the calories and nutrition of broccoli—now THAT is something I could eat up!!!

(To read the article referenced in this post, got to http://escholarship.org/uc/item/2bc4k55r. All historical facts came from the article written by Hiaming Liu entitled Chop Suey as Imagined Authentic Chinese Food: The Culinary Identity of Chinese Restaurants in the United States, published in the Journal of Transnational American Studies, 1(1) on 2/18/2009.)

As is almost always the case when people venture into unchartered territory, I have had some surprises while getting my business going. Nothing has been more surprising than how the process of securing clients has felt painfully like dating. I had a “boyfriend” who assured me if I moved away, our relationship would be fine. He couldn’t promise he’d be able to come to see me any minimum number of hours but he thought he could see me a sufficient number of hours to sustain our relationship. So I moved away, but when he calls me once on a Thursday wanting me to go on an out of town trip for him the following week but I can’t because I have a business meeting scheduled, he comes to see me for two hours and I’ve heard nothing from him since. So, I wonder was it something I said or something I did? Did I anger him somehow? Did he really drop me because I couldn’t commit to a weeklong trip with slightly over four days’ notice? Did he not understand what it meant to move away? It causes me to wonder if maybe my moving away was just a convenient way to get rid of me; a way to break up without him having to summon the courage to tell me our relationship was over.

I try to preserve my self-esteem. I tell myself my boyfriend is going through some changes in his life and when he works them out, he will reach out to me again. He had a friend who was away for awhile who recently returned so perhaps he is waiting to see how much time his friend will take and when he determines how much time he has left for me, he will call. Maybe things are just slow and he doesn’t have anything for me to do. I console myself by trying to convince myself the lack of contact is just coincidence or due to some unseen and unforeseen situation he didn’t anticipate. So I try to reach out to other clients.

My “boyfriend” kindly referred me to a friend I could spend some time with in my new locale. We spend several hours together and he seems really pleased with my company. He is very complimentary and even thanks my boyfriend for the referral. But now over a week has passed and I have not heard from him. So again my doubts about myself have been stirred. Was it something I said? Something I did? Did I make a grave mistake he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by pointing out to me? Did he find someone else? Did I spend more time than he wanted? I want to keep seeing him; I enjoyed the time and subject of our interactions. I hope he is just busy and will contact me when the more pressing situation he is working on currently resolves.

I got approximately half of the hours I would like to spend with a “boyfriend” so I’ve begun to reach out to others to see if they are interested in a “relationship” with me. I sent out some introductory letters; one returned my post-card indicating he wanted further information so I hope that yields some results. This also reminds me of dating—at least my experience with dating—in that it brings me some degree of anxiety and necessitates me shielding my self esteem. Marketing myself brings forth even more dating-type anxieties: Will he even look at me? Will he like me? Will I like him? Will he ask me out? Will he call? Will he not call? Do I want him to call? Why doesn’t he call? He said he’d call but why isn’t he calling? Will he invite me out again? And why doesn’t he call? Did I make him mad? Did I have something disgusting in my teeth? But alas, I will keep at it doing my best to do my best. I didn’t expect being in business to be easy; I knew there will be many hills and valleys, times it will be a breeze and times it will be a struggle. I will just hang in there, keep the bridge to my past boyfriend out of the flames, keep assuming any lack of contact from anyone has nothing to do with anything I did or didn’t do, and keep trying to meet new people. And hopefully it will eventually turn out like my dating past with a happy enduring marriage, though likely more polygamous.

My first month running my own combination freelance paralegal and writing business has flown. I thought I might miss my previous employer but I really haven’t. Eventually I’m sure I will begin to miss some of my co-workers but being the self-centered loner I am it takes a long time for me to begin to miss all but the most important people in my life. I have been in touch with my best friends from my prior employer so thankfully I’ve not had to endure missing them anyway. I don’t even miss the coffee. I definitely don’t miss the drama and office politics.

The only thing I do miss about my prior employer is the money. I got approximately 1/2 of my goal amount of hours which is actually pretty good considering I’ve only been in business for one month and the sure-thing client I thought I had failed to materialize. As I suspected it would be, the downside to starting my own business–and really the only con, though it is a big con–is lack of steady cash. The goal of all start-up businesses is to grow to obtain at least as much personal profit if not more than they received at their prior jobs; therefore, the hope is lack of cash will one day cease to be an issue. And for me, there have been so many positives they have so far outweighed that one big powerful con. Some of those positives have been, in no particular order:

1. My work uniform consists almost entirely of comfy pants.
2. I can grocery shop during the day when the stores are less crowded and the only children present are under five years old. And they are either cute or make me chuckle and think how glad I am THOSE days are over for me.
3. I can eat breakfast and lunch whenever I want plus I have the time and convenience of being able to make healthy meals (I’m saying I COULD, not necessarily I HAVE)—but I don’t buy fast food out of desperation.
4. I’ve been able to volunteer to help plan the first annual Quad City Book Fair scheduled to take place on May 8, 2010.
5. I’ve been able to speak to Paralegal students about my experiences.
6. I got to visit a friend who has been home with her newborn on maternity leave.
7. Whenever I want to take a break to play a game on Facebook, I don’t have to worry about my computer being “monitored”.
8. The only drama I’m forced to witness is from my kids and I can send them up to their rooms if they get too unruly.
9. Quiet—at least when the aforementioned kids are at school.
10. Similarly, I can watch TV or blast music without bothering anyone except my cats.
11. I can burn candles or spray air freshener without sending anyone into an asthma attack.
12. I can swim laps during the noon adults only hour at the Y.
13. I decide what I do when I do it and how to get it done.
14. I’ve been able to actually WRITE!!!
15. When school was cancelled I didn’t have to scramble to find alternative child care.
16. I can use the restroom without someone needing me the second I sit down (again, at least when the kids are at school)
17. I was able to help my daughter find her cell phone in the snow before its battery died.
18. I can crank the thermostat up as high as I want or turn it down when I start to sweat.
19. Did I mention the lack of drama???

Though I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the extra time just meeting 1/2 of my goal hours has provided, it is time now in February to buckle down and get some more hours if I plan to make it to my trip with my husband hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado in August. So it is now time for marketing–letting lawyers and law firms know I am out here ready, willing & able to assist them with their paralegal needs. (If you happen to qualify, please see http://www.jodiet.com/ParaInnovHome.html)

This week I have been attempting to immerse myself in the early ’90s to aid a writing project. My goal is to somehow meld my experience, the world’s experience, and someone from halfway around the world’s experience from that time period into an entertaining and enlightening novel for girls. I know what I want to say but am struggling with how to say it.

The easiest part has been getting the research necessary to write the story of the person from halfway around the world. All it is taking are some visits with a good friend, holding her adorable baby and eating delicious lunches. We just chat, I let a voice recorder run and take some notes. I feel a little guilty even saying I am working–which is not so unusual because I believe most, if not all, non-writers feel we writers do not perform “real work” anyway.

Researching the world’s experience from the early ’90s with regard to my particular halfway-around-the-world’s subject’s home country has not been as easy as I thought it would have when I first embarked on this project. Her country seems almost like the forgotten step-child of world media. There are few books on the subject relative to her country’s history and their writing makes it clear the perspective is one-sided. I have skimmed through several months of local newspapers on microfilm at the library from 1990 where mentions of this country’s experience are presented as an aside or an afterthought. Our media was so preoccupied with the fall of the Berlin wall, the breakup of the Soviet Union, and later the Gulf War (all worthy stories), it seemed to have barely noticed the explosion of another, albeit geographically smaller, communist country.

Researching my own experiences of the early ’90s has not been as easy as one would think either. I do have a wonderful resource in the journals I’ve written in prolifically since 1985 but as much as I wrote, unfortunately, it would’ve been more helpful if I wrote more than I actually did. At that time, I was preoccupied with my own teenaged life to take real notice of even the more prominent world-news stories. I was impressed I even mentioned the declaration of the Gulf War in my journal. My life was focused on surviving what I now know was depression triggered by the loss of some very important loved ones from my life.

In late 1990 to the beginning of 1991, I had just realized life was going on following the death of my cousin in September, 1989, and I decided I could choose to spend the rest of my life miserable or I could choose not to. So for the ensuing couple of years I focused on playing the role of the carefree teenager by dating, going out and having fun as well as realizing my dream of going away to college, a goal I foolishly believed would erase everything wrong with my life (which maybe in a way it eventually did but that musing is for another day).

My ventures in the dating world at that time were grossly inadequate. I had three “boyfriends” during that time period. I designate the word boyfriend as fictional by enclosing it in quotes because I don’t think there was one of them that was what I think of as a traditional boyfriend — i.e. the boy asks you out, you go somewhere like the movies, he kisses you goodnight at the end of the evening, calls you later, asks you out again, etc., etc. My dates with the first one consisted almost exclusively of going for evening walks and talking on the telephone. The second one most resembled a boyfriend but I asked him out first to a turnaround dance (where girls take the boys). My third “boyfriend” was essentially a lesson that the notion of a “friend with benefits” just does not work. I scarred all three of these boys so badly they left the state and/or country without contacting me again; and only the third left without promising me he WOULD keep in contact with me. So that was my life in the early ’90s along with many of the other typical experiences of girls in their last three years of high school.

My work thus far and this project has consisted much more of reading and musing than actually putting words down. And most of those words’ fate was met with the delete key on my keyboard or colored-ink cross-outs. Writing IS hard but I am not giving up. I will keep plugging away, researching, reading and musing, putting it down then taking it away and somehow, someway, some day the how to accomplish my what will materialize.

6:30 a.m., Monday, January 4, 2010: a new year, a new adventure, a new life. I jumped out of bed, determined to make a positive first impression on my new boss. I’d heard she was difficult; volatile and demanding. I searched through my closet, pulled several possibilities and finally decided on just the right pair of sweats. My commute was a nightmare but after dodging toys on the stairs, weaving around my fellow commuters rushing to make it to their destinations on time, and stopping by the coffee bar to grab a much needed cup of Joe, I finally arrived at the office only a few minutes late. I found my new boss standing in my office tapping her foot. She pointed at the computer and glared at me sternly. I bowed my head and pushed myself into my chair. My new boss stood behind me like a dictator as I logged on to my computer. I held my breath as I went to work and breathed in relief when she saw I had logged on to Facebook and gave me the thumbs-up sign. Everyone knows you cannot be productive until your priorities are taken care of; i.e. your CafeWorld customers served and your Farmville crops harvested before they rot.

Finally, I could get down to real work. I turned on my telephone, checked my calendar and contemplated my next move. My office was cluttered with boxes and artifacts from my previous job so I decided to get organized. I spent the rest of the morning cleaning my office. Frankly, I thought it was rude of my new company to stick me in a dirty office but didn’t mind the chance to eavesdrop on the water cooler conversations and learn the new politics. By 11:30 a.m., I had made an appointment to meet with a potential new client and was exhausted so I decided I deserved the afternoon off. I took my kids on their last day of winter break out to lunch then shopping to spend their remaining Christmas gifts.

Tuesday was a day filled with research for the young adult novel I am writing. After taking the kids to school, I made the long trip to Blue Grass to my subject’s home. There, I worked hard. I visited, held her adorable baby, had homemade spaghetti and meatballs for lunch, perused some pictures and left at about 1 p.m. Proud of everything I accomplished, I stopped at Wal-mart to browse for office supplies and refill a couple of prescriptions. One would think a day that productive would command an evening of rest but not for me. I decided it was kind of nice to have my office clean and tidy so I moved on to the rest of my office building and spent most of the rest of the week eradicating three years of dust bunnies from under my furniture.

On Thursday, I got my first project offer and turned down my first project offer in a span of a few hours. I was cleaning when my business phone chirped. I answered professionally, “This is Jodie.” It was the administrator from my former employer’s office with a project offer for next week. But there was a catch; the job started early Monday morning, took place approximately 100 miles from home and involved staying overnight potentially throughout the entire week. Not wanting to break my scheduled meeting with my potential new client, I had to decline unless they could delay the project start time; they couldn’t so decided to handle it internally. So that, as they say, was that.

Friday morning, I took advantage of my flexible schedule and went grocery shopping. I was in good company and felt like I’d just joined an exclusive shopping club composed of mothers with young children and other business owners. I finished my shopping, carried in and put away my groceries by noon and had a nice business lunch of a little angel hair pasta with a can of Italian diced tomatoes. I continued my cleaning for the afternoon and looked forward to my first weekend after my first long week at my new job.

Ironically, Saturday ended up probably being my most profitable day last week. That afternoon, I attended a meeting to discuss marketing ideas with other authors at the Midwest Writing Center (MWC). I volunteered to moderate a book marketing discussion board and to head the program committee for a book fair hosted by MWC scheduled for May 8, 2010. This, in itself, is a marketing technique: getting my name out so when someone sees a book I wrote or needs a freelance paralegal, they will gravitate to me because my name is familiar. In addition, another author at the meeting is an attorney who teaches in the paralegal program at a local college. When she asked if I’d be willing to speak to her students about being a paralegal, I accepted. Again, this will get my name “out there” plus I truly enjoy speaking to an audience that has no choice but to listen to me. This is indeed an exciting prospect and who knows where it will lead.

I filled in the rest of my weekend cleaning my house. I didn’t get through my whole list but did clean my entire first floor including actually washing the floor and dusting the areas I normally skip because I am not tall enough to see them. My basement is clean and back in order; again somewhere I actually feel I’d like to spend time. I ended the weekend with cleaning my master bathroom; a disgusting job complete with shower steam glued on dust and hair. Yuck!

It is now Monday morning again. I wasn’t as excited for it this week and overslept by a half hour. And, yes, my boss was all bitchy when I finally got in but I’m not worried. I know what buttons to push and I have her right where I want her. My meeting with the potential client is scheduled for 11 a.m.; I hope it nets some, but not too much, immediate work. Also on my agenda so far is to work on my two in-process writing projects, research the local newspapers on microfiche for one of those projects and offer my completed young adult novel to literary agents and publishers for rejection. It should be a good week!

T’was the night before New Years when all through the day
I was thinking and thinking of a resolution to say.
It needed to be easy so I had a chance;
So I wouldn’t be stuck with should haves and can’ts.

I sat at my desk and stared at the wall;
I munched leftover cookies and thought of it all.
I sipped cold milky coffee, pondering my life,
And a headache formed, like it was stabbed with a knife.

When out of the blue I heard a loud crash;
I sprang from my chair brushing crumbs in the trash.
Away to the door, I grabbed at the knob.
I twisted it hoping I could handle the job.
The kitchen was strewn with sugar and flour;
It looked like it had been hit with a giant snow shower.

When what to my bewildered eyes did appear
But a miniature ghost with white ear to ear.
With a dust cloud so close behind,
I clenched my fist and braced for the whine.

More rapid than bunnies she shouted my name,
“I’m sorry, Mommy! I’m not to blame!”
“I didn’t mean it, I promise,” she said.
She grimaced and held her hands to her head.
“Now before you get mad, please listen, please.”
Then she rubbed her nose and let out a sneeze.

As whirlwind ensued disturbing the dust,
She flailed her arms as she cried and she fussed.
The whole scene got to me, I thought I would bust.

Like in slow motion, it all hit the floor;
The eggs, the milk, everything from the store;
I dropped my head, could take it no more.

As I covered my head and was turning around
My little girl stood without making a sound.
She stood like a statue all covered in soot;
Flour dust settled slowly from her head to her foot.
White handprints adorned her little black slacks;
She looked like a panda bear performing for snacks.

Her eyes – how they teared! Her mouth – how it crinkled!
Her hair was a mess, her clothing all wrinkled.
Her mouth opened wide but nothing came out;
Speak up, I wanted to holler and shout.
I tried to gather my thoughts behind my clenched teeth;
I contemplated punishment as I started to seethe.
The timer alarmed shrill through the air;
We both just stood stiff in our stare.

“I just wanted to help.” I heard her little voice crack;
“I thought as you work, you might want a snack.”
She opened the fridge and pulled out a plate.
“I made this for you.” She gave me a piece and I ate.
It tasted awful but she went to such work;
I smiled as I chewed so as not to look like a jerk.
“I made a resolution to help more and started a bit early.”
Then I knew what I must do; knew nothing so surely.

I pulled my daughter tight in my arm.
I hugged her real close and said, “There’s no harm.”
I laughed out loud right through my tear,
No resolutions for me; what I need is right here.

Dear Friends and Family:

Well, it has been another fun-filled year in my life so I thought I’d bring you up-to-date with my holiday letter. I’ll begin where I left off last year.

As you know, those two big humans with whom I share this abode brought in another roommate without so much as even mentioning it to me, let alone asking me if it was okay a couple of months before last year’s letter. Remember how I was looking forward to Christmas morning last year? The tree was more loaded with packages than it had ever been and I was sure I would be lavished with yarn balls, fish treats, and that nip that just gets me crazy. Well, Christmas morning came and as soon as first light crept in the room from behind the blinds, I extracted myself from beneath Jon’s legs because he’d rudely taken over the bed and ran down the stairs as fast as I could. Oh, what a sight to see!! The tree was lit beautifully with even more presents scattered around the floor. I was so happy I danced in circles. I couldn’t wait for Jon and Lucy so I screamed up the stairs; they didn’t hear so I jumped on them and screamed in their faces. I was beside myself with anticipation but they wouldn’t budge; they were splayed out snoring like dogs. So I thought of Josephine; maybe this new roommate would be good for something after all. So I went to her room and started to mock her; I really played it up telling her it wasn’t fair she had to be imprisoned in that cell while I got to roam free and it did the trick. Soon she started wailing and Jon and Lucy came running.

I ran down the stairs right on their heels under their feet. “Oh boy”, I thought, “here we go”. But they sat down and stuck a bottle in Josephine’s mouth. Not a bad idea to have a snack before tearing into all those packages, so I thought I’d get me a bite myself. I should’ve known how the rest of the day would proceed when I found my bowl empty without a single kernel of food or drop of water; even the cookies they had left out for that fat man were gone. I returned and lay down by the packages and waited. Finally, Jon began pulling presents from under the tree. I waited and waited but do you know what? They had pulled out every single package and didn’t give me a single one. I looked and looked but found no other packages. I didn’t get one ball of yarn, fish treat or even a cheesy laser-light which we all know is actually a gift to themselves they can use to torture me.

Well, kitties, it went all downhill from there. I was forgotten and replaced by Josephine. I just cannot figure out why. Take toileting for example; they have to wipe disgusting messes from Josephine’s bottom and cover it with some absorbent plastic covered underwear. Come on! She is not even litter box trained. I do my business in the same spot every day; all they do is scoop it out and get rid of it. And eating. Josephine eats the most grossening slop you’ve ever seen and more of it ends up sprayed on the wall like the doughboy had been murdered than gets into her mouth. All they have to do for me is pour some kibble in a bowl and I take care of myself. I just don’t get it. What does SHE have that I don’t? It can’t be love. Waking the whole household up at 3 a.m. just because you want a little snack does not show love! Now jumping in your lap, snuggling in and allowing you to pet my fur; that is love. Josephine doesn’t even purr!! She just whines and cries and poops and pukes! Yuck!

For awhile, things did get better. I stopped glaring at Josephine trying to figure out how I could steal her breath like they show on that movie and just accepted the fact I was forgotten. It wasn’t all bad; it was kind of nice to be left alone. I could sleep wherever I wanted or walk around the countertops without being noticed. And they quit dressing me up in those stupid sweaters and trying to make me go for a walk like I was some common mutt. Ol’ Josephine got to endure that torture. But get this; while they tried to make me walk, SHE gets to ride in a fancy pet carrier without sides. I thought for a moment perhaps it would be worth dressing up in silly costumes to go for a ride in that contraption but then when I noticed they were collecting evidence to display and share, I decided no fancy ride is worth that. So things were okay. They had a big party with cake, balloons and more presents a year to the day after Josephine moved in but by then I was used to getting the shaft.

Then one day shortly after the party, like a miracle, Josephine rose up from all fours and started moving around just like Jon and Lucy. I couldn’t believe it. At first I thought, “This is great; if Josephine is getting to be more like Jon and Lucy maybe she will start to pet me, cuddle with me and fill my food bowl”. So one day I tried to make friends. She was sitting on the floor and I rubbed up against her leg. Boy was that a mistake! Suddenly I felt an excruciating pain in my back side; I wailed and tried to run away but she just kept swinging and cackling. I finally got away but Josephine, the little masochist, must have enjoyed it because she started chasing me around the house. Now I can’t get within ten feet of her without her screeching “kitty” and trying to steal my fur or my tail. She’s even got Jon and Lucy brainwashed; they don’t even try to stop it. They just say, “No, no, Josephine” and pat her on her grubby little head.

So here it is almost Christmas again and I don’t think I can take it another day. What’s worse is Lucy’s lap is shrinking which is what happened right before Josephine showed up. So I’m not going to wait around just to subject myself to more hell. So I am out of this kitty condo. I’m movin’ on; going to try life on my own for awhile. It can’t be any worse than this year has been. I wish you well; wish me luck.

Lovingly,
Your adoring feline,
Harry the Cat

A lot of work is involved in starting a business, even for such a straight-forward simple sole-proprietor business such as Jodie Toohey Information Innovations or JTII. I have almost no business experience so my first step was research. As with almost all research I do, my first stop was the internet. I then enrolled and completed a two hour “Starting Your Business” class and a full Saturday “Boot Camp for Entrepreneurs” class offered through the local community college and small business development center. I think I learned more in each of these classes than I did in entire semesters of classes at college. This is likely due to a combination of the high quality of the classes and my total lack of knowledge in the class subjects.

After the first class, I had my to-do list set: Get an EIN (even though I technically didn’t need one), get insurance, and write a business plan. Getting an EIN was easy; I went on-line, applied and received the number immediately free of charge. I e-mailed my insurance agent inquiring into business endorsements for my auto and homeowners’ policies and professional liability insurance to cover me in the event someone sues me. The endorsements were easy; I need a small one for my auto policy to cover the occasional use of my personal vehicle for business but I don’t need one for the homeowners’ policy because all of my equipment is used for business and personal tasks. After checking around for a couple of days, my insurance agent returned a quote of $2,000 for professional liability insurance which I feared may scrap my plans.

I recalled from my paralegal education around the turn of the century a sort of controversy regarding the need for paralegals to carry professional liability insurance. By definition, paralegals must be supervised by an attorney which, therefore, transfers any liability for a paralegal mistake to the attorney’s responsibility. There was some discussion if a paralegal really screwed up, he or she could be held personally liable for their mistakes. So, in theory, a paralegal could be sued personally for legal malpractice but at that time and to present to my knowledge, there has been no such case. Finding $2,000 for a policy which nearly certainly would never be used and which has historically never been used a little inflated, I sought a second opinion.

Apparently, this is an issue that has indeed never materialized and an idea foreign in these parts. My e-mail to a large well-known local insurance agency was never answered. One of my e-mails to the paralegal associations I sent replied advising they did not offer professional liability insurance through their organization but $2,000 sounded typical. I received a very helpful and much appreciated e-mail from a freelance paralegal associated with the other organization who advised as long as the attorneys with whom I work carry legal malpractice insurance (which almost always covers work by paralegals), I should not need my own professional liability insurance. Therefore, without that expense weighing down my bottom line, I forged ahead.

I am in the middle of writing my business plan. I designed a logo and ordered business cards. I have partially updated my web-site and created some of the forms I will need to run the business. I’ve made essential business purchases such as a computer, printer with scan and fax capabilities, a real office chair and my own coffee. I created my office space by relocating the scrapbooking portion of my dual-purpose craft room/office to a room in the basement making that area a multi-purpose craft/scrapbooking/exercise room. Bit by bit, I’ve been relocating the mounds of personal stuff I’ve accumulated at my current office over the past nearly nine years to my home office. I still have not figured out how to maintain my office as just my office and not my office/catch-all area. I’ve installed and am learning Quicken to hopefully keep adequate track of my personal and business finances. I’ve figured out how and when to pay my estimated self-employment taxes.

I have a few more tasks to complete. I need to finish cleaning out my office and my business plan. And, of course, it is important I have just the right sweats to wear when I settle into my office chair and switch on the neon “open” sign.

After blogging for nearly eight months, I’ve finally decided on a focus at least for a portion of my posts. I invite you to join me as I embark on the journey to small business ownership and entrepreneurship. It is sure to be, if not an exciting journey, at least not a boring journey. My journey is scheduled to officially begin with the coming new year but it has, as necessary, already begun. As with any journey, I must make sure I pack everything I think I may need and account for all weather variations. Of course I realize I will inevitably forget something but the more I can plan and prepare, the less I will have to interrupt my journey to find a store where I can purchase whatever I forgot or didn’t think to pack.

My journey began a little more than three years ago. At that time, I didn’t really know where I was going. As I was peripherally witnessing a friend at work battle breast cancer, I began to examine my life and wondered if something happened where I couldn’t complete my life or I was sidelined from participating in it for a significant time what I would leave undone. I had written since I was a pre-teen myself and had always wanted to write a book. So I just hopped in and took off. My book of for pre-teen and teen girls, Crush and Other Love Poems for Girls, completed publication in December, 2007. In 2008, despite the lack of Twilight-proportion sales, I found myself enjoying promoting my book. I enjoyed the book signings, appearance on a local television news-magazine program, building my web-site, and creating business cards, bookmarks and other promotional materials.

This year, I completed a manuscript for a young adult novel, began research for a young adult historical novel and an outline for a young adult how-to book. This fantastical of idea of making my living out of writing festered and grew into a puss-filled abscess which if it didn’t burst, would eventually sicken me. I reduced my hours at work to thirty per week starting in July, 2008. As most of this year progressed, I tried to devise a way to write more without it overpowering my time or dragging me into financial ruin because though the hope is to eventually make enough money from writing to live, I knew if it ever happened, it would take a long, long time.

As autumn of this year approached, colon cancer took control of another friend and fellow paralegal at work and won the war twenty years after the death of my cousin on September 5th. I saw this as a sort of sign and calling. I had the what but still had no how. Then I came up with the following.

On January 1, 2010, Jodie Toohey Information Innovations will open for business. It will be comprised of two divisions, Writing Innovations and Paralegal Innovations. Through Writing Innovations, I will produce written material, including but not limited to, novels, non-fiction books, articles, brochures, and manuals. I will work as a Freelance or Contract Paralegal through Paralegal Innovations. This proverbial light bulb ding sounded toward the last third of September, this year. It took me until November 4th to submit my proposal and resignation to my current employer. My hesitance was due to fear. I knew people would think I’m crazy–quitting a good, good-paying job at a stable company to go out into the unknown–and I thought they were probably correct. And despite my over eight and a half years with the company, their fair treatment in the past and our mutual respect and loyalty, I was afraid they’d say “No.” Then I’d be without a job and a built-in initial client and, on principle, wouldn’t recant. However, after a couple of meetings by the management committee, I learned last Tuesday my proposal was successful and sent the following to my co-workers:

“I am writing to advise you of my resignation as of December 31, 2009. Starting January 1, 2010, I will be available to perform tasks on an independent contractor basis through the Paralegal Innovations division of my sole proprietorship business, Jodie Toohey Information Innovations. I am in the process of developing my web-site, business cards and an assignment form which I will distribute as the end of the year approaches.

I have made this decision for a variety of reasons but essentially it is a compromise I’ve negotiated with myself to allow more time for my writing endeavors but not jump off the cliff without a security rope. In answer to some of the questions you may have: Yes, I’m afraid I’ll fail; Yes, I know good & good-paying jobs are at a premium in this economy; Yes, I’m taking a big risk; Yes, I know I will most likely need to work harder owning my own business; and Yes, I just might be crazy. But I also know I only get one chance to live my life, that life may be shorter than I ever thought possible or would have hoped for, and that even if it all blows up, I can say I at least tried and gave it my best shot. And that will make for an interesting chapter in my memoir. Actually, it makes good financial sense to utilize a contract paralegal and I don’t feel like I am leaving anyone “in a lurch” or not pulling my paralegal weight.

This arrangement will also allow me to stay connected with the firm and its people which have been a significant part of my life for the past nearly nine years. The one quality I have appreciated the most about this company which very few other companies have is the fact the people who work here want and strive to do the best job they can do, not because of raises or fear of discipline but because it is an intrinsic quality and part of who they are. Of course, this company and its people have numerous other admirable qualities which I will miss but I am so glad to be able to continue our relationship on a contract basis and not have to completely sever our ties.

Thank you for all of the assistance, guidance and opportunity you have provided to me over the years. Thank you in advance for your continued support. I looked forward to our new relationship.”

Next week: How the preparations for JTII are progressing.