Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Our Purpose in Life

A few nights ago, I tossed and turned but could not fall asleep. Random bits of thought would flash through my mind. After a few hours, I took an over-the-counter sleep aid. These don’t usually work, I think, as I will soon fall asleep from exhaustion anyway, but I take two for good measure.

The morning finds me in a blue mood. My thoughts have a theme; “what is my purpose in life?” It’s possible my brother-in-law’s terminal prognosis has me thinking this way and re-evaluating where I am and where I want to go, or even maybe where I should have gone. With that thought, past experiences flash from the earliest childhood memory to adulthood. If we all have purpose in life, then what is (or was) my purpose? That one question will have anyone thinking over the segments of their lifespan, I imagine.

I found myself creating a chart of the events of my life, possibly because so much of what I do for a living requires documentation. The document began to unfold as an outline. In looking at the outline with a critical eye, I realized that I was conducting a gap analysis!

A Gap Analysis can be useful in business to identify actual performance versus full potential. What areas need attention? What items were overlooked? What are the missed opportunities? Can this same process work in evaluating, improving and finding the purpose in our lives? That last question had me curious. I began the analysis in earnest.

Looking at the outline, my own personality became evident. I could see the paths I’d taken, but only I alone, know the reasons for them. I must then consider how the paths I’d taken led me to where I am today. I can imagine only, how it might have unfolded had I taken the alternate route. All I can do with the outline is understand my personality traits and how they guided my discussions. I can then use this going forward as my personal compass. A true understanding of how we think is essential here and requires a level of awareness we may not all posses.

My conclusion is this. To reach our goals we must be single minded. We must hold this plan as a focal point in order to manifest it into our lives. With the new awareness of our thinking patterns, and the courage to think in new ways, we can make progress in reaching our goals. Don’t get sidetracked. Repeat as often as you must, to those you love, what you want, and how you plan to achieve it. Say it aloud for it breaths life into your plan. Above all, strive for enlightenment, for it is by this path that we shall understand our place in this world, and ultimately, our own true purpose.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

On Writing

I’ve been a busy girl these past few weeks. Now that there is a lull in my personal writing project, I’m itching to start another. The process has begun. With me, a lot of writing happens in my head before it ever flows from my fingers onto the keyboard. When I was in high school, I took a creative writing class. In the evening, I would lie back on my bed and consider what I would write for the next assignment. My sister would ask, “What are you doing?” To which, of course, I would reply “I’m doing my homework!” I don’t think she ever really understood.

The current project I have just finished is a short story about an incident from my childhood. Short stories are what I seem to concentrate on most. I’m not really sure how authors come to write long novels. I hope to one day write a novel, but for now, the short story genre is all I have in me. I have colleagues that tell me about the books they’ve written, all technical. It’s interesting to hear them speak about what their struggles were, compared to what challenges me.

In the busy few weeks that just passed, I attended my first meeting of the Monadnock Writer’s Group. They had a guest speaker, who naturally, was selling a copy of his book afterwards. Someday, I hope to stand and speak about my book, and sell a few copies too, so I bought one of his. At the beginning of the meeting, we are asked to introduce and tell a little about ourselves. In doing so, I mentioned my published article in Biker Ally. I had a lot of questions about how I came to be published in the magazine. I explained that I felt the story was published because of the editing skills of my friend Tim. “Would he edit their stuff?” I was asked, and “How much does he charge?” Tim is happy to hear this, as freelance editing is a dream of his.

I have also begun in earnest the wiki project Tim told me about last May. Wiki is new to me, and I’m on a learning curve. All I’ve managed to accomplish at this point is to add a page with a short description. We are all trying to understand the intent, look, and how to manage content at this point. It is slow going until I can grasp the concepts they have in mind. It’s exciting to be a part of this project.

My short story is off to four different destinations. I feel the content and style are worthy of publication. Tim seems to feel that since it reverberated in his mind, it is a sign of a good story. I feel Tim’s instincts are good, and I’m optimistic about the outcome. Because this is a story from my childhood, it was sometimes difficult as the emotions return with the writing. That, however, may be what gives the story life.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

A Halloween Trick on Readers

This morning, as I sipped my coffee and thumbed through the newspaper, I came across some recipes in the food section that astounded me. They were recipes you could use for leftover Halloween candy. “Leftover Halloween Candy” is an oxymoron, isn't it? I personally, have never experience “leftover” Halloween Candy. Leftover apples and bags of popcorn? Sure! Candy? Never!

I was intrigued by this phenomenon I new nothing about and read on to learn more. I read two of the recipes. One was for candy bar cookies and the other was for peppermint patty brownies. Both sounded like tasty treats I might enjoy. Then my eye spied the note about caramels. “Melt caramels and drizzle over sliced apples.” Now there is a suggestion I could have used when I was a kid. It would have saved me from all those rotten apples under my bed. My sister would have appreciated this too, as she wasn’t too happy the day I presented my caramel to her in the schoolyard, with my molar imbedded in the center. That melted caramel idea would have been handy for popcorn too. Just imagine the great popcorn balls I could have made from all those bags of popcorn that I eventually fed to the birds.

As I continued on, my coffee mug poised mid sip, there before my eyes were suggestions for candy corn and Peeps! My eyebrows raised in disbelief. No one ever has leftover Peeps! While I was trying to “swallow” that one, I spied the next section of the food page. There before my eyes was a recipe for “Mild Mexican.” Another oxymoron or just a work of fiction? I decided today’s food section was the newspaper’s version of “trick” just in time for Halloween. There is no other explanation that makes sense to me.

Sunday, October 21, 2007


When I was a kid, cream cheese on crackers was a big deal. Mom would keep a container of cream cheese in the fridge and when we wanted a snack we’d spread some on crackers. In a family of eight kids one container of cream cheese didn’t last long. The other “staple” Mom kept on hand was Marshmallow Fluff for making Fluffernutters. For those of you not New England born, this is a sandwich made with peanut butter and marshmallow crème.

My sister often brought her snack up to our bedroom when doing homework. Inevitably I would ask “what are you eating” and with the answer, I would go make some for myself. One evening, tired of hearing me ask this question for the 100th time, (or maybe the cream cheese was running low) my sister replied “Marshmallow on crackers.” I went right downstairs and spread some fluff on saltine crackers. It was an interesting combination of sugar and salt that pleased my tongue. I became a big fluff and cracker fan. Years later, my sister, snickering at the memory, confessed that she had lied about what she was eating. I think she also discovered that day how gullible I was. I still wonder to this day in what other ways I had been mislead.

My love of Marshmallow Fluff led to experimentation with other types of crackers. Graham crackers are at the top of the list. There is also the breakfast fare of toasted bread with butter and fluff. So you can imagine my joy at discovering Peeps! How ingenious to make tasty shapes of marshmallow and top them with sugar. What a rush!

My love of Peeps did not pass on in the genetic code to my daughters however. Despite the knowledge that the kids did not like Peeps, the Easter Bunny persisted in leaving some in the Easter Basket each year. I always obliged in taking them off their hands. Blue Bunnies, Yellow Bunnies and Pink Bunnies, I ate them all. (I’m such a good Mom!)

One year, my daughter Stephanie spied snowman Peeps in the store. Being all grown up, she long understood why the Easter Bunny would leave Peeps in her basket. She bought a package then and there, eager to see the look on my face when presented with Peeps at Christmas. I was overjoyed! Finally, someone actually gave me something I liked, and not something I needed.

This past weekend, we headed to Plymouth to visit our oldest daughter for her birthday. After our visit, we headed to our Cape vacation home to spend the night. It had been a long day. Tired and groggy, I walked into the house and flicked on the lights. There on the kitchen counter, propped up against the coffee maker, were TWO packages of Peeps. There was one package of Ghost Peeps and one Package of Pumpkin Peeps. Stephanie, once again, couldn’t resist leaving me Peeps. All the girls think its funny their Mom loves Peeps, including Stephanie. But somewhere deep down, she respects it too. When I find a package of Peeps from Stephanie, I know it’s her way of showing love for her Mom.

Thursday, October 18, 2007


Part of the daily routine in our home is the pushing of the “play” button on the answering machine upon arriving home in the evening. We enter, push the button and listen while removing coats or unloading our daily baggage. Most often, we reach over and hit delete for the telemarketers and political ads. Then there are those rare occasions when we stop mid jacket removal and stand still to listen, paying attention to every word, only to hit the play button again to be sure of what we just heard.

Yesterday was just such a day. As the message plays, we both stop mid-action. A call from a relative with bad news of the life altering kind flows out by voice messaging. We play it twice to be sure we have heard correctly. Our evening is then filled with phone calls and getting the details. Cancer is the message. We begin to process the ramifications of what this bad news means for our loved one.

Our mortality, something we choose to put to the back of our minds, accosts us full force. We must face the truth that we all will travel our own path to our ultimate end. As the evening unfolds, we must discuss other topics to make arrangements and plans as all families do each day. This night, we realize, some items on the list now seem less important than they did previously. Other items move closer to the top of the list. Our discussion turns to what is important to us. Which item should we continue with, which make our life feel fuller, what will we regret not having done should we receive such news for ourselves tomorrow.

Are you trudging through life? Is what you are doing have impact? Are you paying attention to the ones you love? How would you feel if certain aspects of your life disappeared tomorrow? What makes you angry that would seem inconsequential if your life ended today? Unfortunately, we only think seriously about these matters when faced with mortality first hand. I suggest you arrange your daily checklist by what matters most.

Time is not a commodity to be trusted. We are not guaranteed any number of days or hours. There are those who express time in terms of “wasted” or “fleeting”. While others never seem to have enough, or spend their current time with worry over future or past time. Some people “take” time or “spend” time. All we are really blessed with are moments. If fortunate, we may be able to link the moments into the days of our life. Make what you do with your moments count.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

All in a day's Sojourn

Saturday found Andy and me on the Annual Fall Foliage Ride with the New England Riders. This ride, as always, is a pleasure. Wingman plans his route with care so that we come away with the best motorcycling experience New England has to offer. It isn’t the ride in particular that I want to write about, but the aftermath, which could have resulted in a much worse scenario than how it came to unfold.

Last week, I struggled with a head cold. You know the symptoms, headache, sore throat, cough and general body ache. Despite feeling fine Saturday morning, the afternoon found me feeling fatigued and bit out of sorts. Add to this, a foreign substance irritating my eye, and you start to set up circumstances that should be given more attention that I was willing to give them at the time.

Our last leg home found us riding down Burton Highway from Temple into Wilton. This stretch of road is narrow and twisty, with some rough patches here and there. It’s downhill all the way to route 31 in Wilton. Just at the junction of Burton Highway and Isaac Frye, I hit gravel in the roadway. My back tire started sliding out from under me. To right the bike I began to counter steer, which alas would take me straight into the woods. Not a scenario I wanted. The shoulders are soft here, and I hit this hard. I corrected the steering and rode the soft shoulder as if I were in some freestyle motocross competition, while at the same time progressively braking harder and harder to slow Jade down. I didn’t want to lock up the brakes, spill the bike or hit trees. I estimate I did this for about 500 feet before I slowed enough to eventually coax Jade back on the pavement. All the while, I prayed that this was not one of the roads washed out by the summer rains. If that were the case I was in danger of hitting the granite stones used to fill in all the washed out shoulders in town. I was thankful not to encounter any granite chunks. I made the rest of the ½-mile trip home without incident.

Here are the factors I believe led to this unfortunate end to a wonderful day. I was cold, fatigued and hungry. My eye was hurting something fierce and I couldn’t see very well once sunset occurred. If I had paid attention to all of these, I would have realized I should not be riding. I could have pulled over, and let Andy know that I needed to pick my way home carefully instead of trying to be the female version of macho. Once home, my legs cramped suggesting dehydration as well. The eye still hurt like a son of a gun. When I woke on Sunday, my eye was blood red. Andy thought I looked possessed; an extra just stepped out of the cast of Exorcist. I’m now nursing a damaged cornea and trying not to scratch this itchy eye.

I credit keeping the bike up with all of the parking lot practice I have done over the past few years with the motorcyclist friends I used to work with. I haven’t had much practice this summer, but I will begin again during lunch hours again next season. They saved me from going down. In addition, all the books I read of David Hough’s were a considerable benefit. I strongly suggest reading any or all of his books. He has spent a lifetime on motorcycles, has studied accident scenes and reports, and states call to him for advice when investigating the cause of motorcycle accidents. The advice and tips in these books flashed through my mind at lightning speed while keeping me and Jade out of the woods. Christmas is coming, so consider giving one or more of these titles to the motorcyclist in your life.

Proficient Motorcycling: The Ultimate Guide to Riding Well
More Proficient Motorcycling: Mastering the Ride
Street Strategies: A survival Guide for Motorcyclist (my personal favorite)
I’m happy to report that the worst thing the doctor told me was not that I had to wear a patch, or could not drive but that I could not read or (gasp!) write for a 24-hour period. I still look possessed by the devil, and I have no idea what got into my eye. As my handle on the forum would suggest, it is all in a day's Sojourn.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Mercury in Retrograde

If you watch CSI than you heard in last nights episode how the heat has an affect on crime. With each degree the thermometer rises, at more crime scenes the investigators find themselves. The other phenomenon is the strange behavior people exhibit during a full moon. You may phoo phoo this as nonsense. We also like to brush aside full moon or weather stories as coincidence. I have evidence that the celestial bodies and the weather do indeed affect us.

Recently I have begun to pay attention when Mercury is in retrograde. Susan Miller ( admonishes us never to make purchases of electronic items or sign contracts during this time. Mercury rules electronics and moving parts. They just go haywire. Contractual agreements tend to go south. I took her advice as mere speculation. I am no longer a skeptic. Here is the evidence to support my experiences.

We purchased a new combination DVD/VCR. With this new unit, I hoped to copy all my family videos to DVD. The machine has never worked correctly. In fact, soon after installing the unit it locked us out of the VCR feature. We sent it back for repair. It was in the shop for two months. (That was not a typo, two months, not two weeks.) This unit was purchased during a retrograde period.

The next item we attempted, knowing full well that Mercury was in retrograde, was to sign a contractual agreement for new windows on the house. These windows were attractive to us for their lifetime guarantee. The windows were measured for, and payment was discussed. Although we had the cash, we opted for the loan payment. The reason for this, of course, we knew Mercury was retrograde; we didn’t want to put down the cash deposit required under the cash terms. With the loan, all we needed was a minimal deposit and we could pay off the loan anytime. For us, that would be the first payment notice. We put down ten dollars cash.

Months later, we receive a call that the company cannot guarantee one of the windows. “Do we want to do the rest of them?” we are asked. Of course not! This one window was the whole point of the replacements. Not only did the contract fall apart, we have yet to see our ten-dollar deposit returned.

You think I would have learned my lesson with these two incidences. Pat requires the “three strikes and your out” routine it seems. The next purchasing adventure I endeavor is a new laptop. A friend helps me with the requirements and I place the order. Yup, Mercury is in retrograde. I have to send the laptop back because I have the wrong software installed. Can they send me a disc? No, it needs to go back and be rebuilt. I get the machine back, and it is struck by a rogue lightning bolt while the battery is charging. Was a storm predicted? No! Was there any evidence that an electrical storm was on the way? No! Just “BAM” and the screen has a nice vertical line right down the middle. Off it goes for repair again.

Each of these incidences is disruptive to our daily routines. Attending to the forms, shipping and follow-up are all tedious aspects easily avoided had the alignment of Mercury been taken seriously. With the DVD/VCR problem, I let myself be completely annoyed at the trouble and the delay in repair. When I signed the contract for the windows, I was not surprised at the delay and then the actual cancellation of the job. My laptop upset me, because although I new I should wait, I wanted it NOW. Instant gratification is the bane of our society, and I am as susceptible as the next person. My upset was more at this aspect than at the laptop trouble itself.

Mercury is now testing me with her power to the fullest and it is this last item that has me the most distressed. My GPS will not work on my motorcycle! Yes! I can hear you now. “Say it isn’t so!” Alas, it is true. Something has gone haywire on the motorcycle that is affecting my GPS. The motorcycle is the only place it will not work properly. I have spent countless hours troubleshooting, including a complete re-wire of the power system for the GPS. This included removing the gas tank, and even purchasing a new battery. That’s right, Pat is wrenching!

I have now pitted my wits against a celestial body. In my fight to win one battle, I have solicited help from every source. The Garmin folk, the good people of the NER and the Giant Brain himself. All offer good advice and troubleshooting techniques. Despite our best efforts, Jade and Quest will not get along. I have thrown my hands up in surrender and will wait out the retrograde period. Come November 1st, I anticipate that Quest will suddenly be right with the world but too late for my Fall Foliage Ride this weekend. If a sad looking woman on a green and white motorcycle asks you for directions this weekend, kindly point her home. Otherwise, she will ride around in circles until November 1st.

PS: If you wish for follow up come November, drop me a note and I’ll tell you if Jade and Quest have resolved their issue.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

"Time Waits for No Man" Danish Proverb


I hope my children look back on today,
And see a Mother who had time to play!
Children grow up while you're not looking,
There'll be years ahead for cleaning and cooking,
So quiet now, cobwebs; dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.

...Unknown Author

Aiden has been ravenous these past few weeks, so his mother reports. His little 21-month-old body can’t get enough. One morning recently, while entering his bedroom to get him up for the day, a little boy’s face greeted mother, where just a few days before the baby had been. The change in his features from baby to little boy was so profound; his mother could not keep her eyes from marking this day permanently in her memory. Upon dressing for the day, his clothing was suddenly too small. The arms and legs were well beyond the cuffs of shirt and hem of pants. The reason for the eating frenzy became quite evident.

Paulina’s mother is reporting in on her progress as well. It appears that she is able to sit up by herself for extended periods of time. While mother gives me updates, I can hear Paulina’s non-stop babble in the background, punctuated at times with little baby giggles. One evening the phone rings. “Can you hear that?” Paulina’s mother asks. I hear the sound of a tinkling piano in the background. Like her mother, Paulina, it appears, has an interest in the piano. Mother propped her in the baby seat up against the keyboard, and baby took to it immediately. This is not some random pounding of the keys. Her tiny fists push this key then that key in a deliberate manner. She also seems keenly aware that the keys just out of her reach to the left and right will also produce various sounds and reaches for these with effort.

As I listened to their stories, I wondered what has happened to the years and recalled the poem above. As a young girl, summer days would stretch interminably before me. I would whine to my own mother “there’s nothing to do!” When I became a mother, the days began to elude me. There never seemed enough time. I didn’t often heed the advice given in the poem above, and the days passed swiftly. Soon the children were grown.

The older I get the more swiftly the days seem to pass. My imagination views time as water flowing to the ocean. In my childhood, it was a meandering brook. As a young adult, the current moved swiftly along. Now, the river has reached the rapids. The kayak of life nearly snatched from my control. Before the rapids reach the falls, I feel it necessary to find a new poem to use as my own snapshot in time. The one below seems suitable.

Grandma's eyes are never dry!

These children
with their red apple cheeks
and runny noses
fill my heart to the brim!
They frolic like puppies
turning end over end
again and again and again.
How innocent and clever
their eyes are...full of love
for Grandma and
her cookie jar.
They joyfully exclaim
throwing their arms open wide
when I arrive
give exquisitely sweet
kisses and hugs and waves
My oh my oh my !
Grandma's eyes are never dry!
~ Martha Meshberg ~

Saturday, October 6, 2007

You Can Never Go Home

Yesterday, I took an online course entitled Navigating Change. I didn’t take it voluntarily. The company has a set of courses that combines logging into a web based manager, and using a set of CD’s in conjunction with this to complete the loop. Our task this fiscal year is to complete the entire series.

I also had some news that under most circumstances I would appreciate. My boss called to let me know about my raise. It’s good to have a raise, but my joy is tempered by the series of events that have taken place this year. It was because of the news about the raise that led me to take this particular course. I consider my self a fair person. They kept a promise to do their part, so I will do mine.

The concept discussed in the course that I found most interesting were the three phases of change. In the first phase, we fight the change and cling to the past. In the second phase, there is yet no clear direction from management on exactly what are tasks are or how to complete them. In this phase we are free to experiment with our new, yet undefined positions. In the third phase, we accept and understand the need for the change and become empowered by our creativity to make the change work. I have not yet reached the third phase, but believe I may just have entered the second.

My raise helped move me to this second phase. I am experimenting with tasks and trying to make sense of what I see. It also helps me better understand how others have been affected by the change. Watching others cope leads me to better understand my own emotional state.

What prompted me to pay more attention to the others, were the three conversations I had yesterday with former employees. One caller wanted to deliver some suggestions for me in reference to other companies and the contacts I know there. We chatted for a bit, and then disconnected. The second caller has and continues to try to help me into the company he is at now. One of our other colleagues is there also and sits close by his station. Both he and she where the second and third I spoke with yesterday.

What I find in these conversations is that all three wanted to hear something of the old place. They were also interested in any news I might have of other colleagues and where they may be. It occurred to me, that when we all worked together, I was the glue that kept the communication and information line open. It was interesting to see that they still, to some extent, depend on that from me.

Then the telling series of statements from the woman gave me insight into their emotions I had not had before. While true that my workplace has changed considerably since June, I still come to the same location day after day. I have an ear to the ground on how the company is doing, changes that are being planned, or hear news of people I have worked with for almost 7 years.

I have envied those who have been successful in finding new employment and moving on with their lives. I did not consider what it is they are navigating on their own. They were not given the opportunity of time to let go of the past as I have. By coming to the same location each day I have had to face that it will never be the same again. My colleagues were ushered out. No goodbyes, no last looks. They miss the people the used to work with, and they cannot even stop by to say hello. There is never any “coming back”. No one is home.

I cannot decide if I have been fortunate or set up for continued disappointment in the future. The work atmosphere under which I had worked and the people who made up the teams the worked under the same roof where unlike any people I had ever worked with before. We were truly a family. It will be hard to recreate that atmosphere anyplace else. Numega was unique in this. We can never go back home. We can make our lives in new places but we must never think we can recreate the past. I will let go, and for now, take care of the family that is there. They are navigating change too. As for those who can never come home again? It may be time for a quarterly newsletter that keeps the “family” connected.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Poet Wannabe

Ears strain to catch some sound
Eyes scanning left to right
A steady hum is all that’s heard
Of air pumped through and ‘round

A plant still potted and alive
Beside the door does it still stand
Awaiting those it used to greet
Whose feet shall never again arrive.

The air now fills with bitter scent
From one sole pot upon the brewer
Its contents black and scorched
Too much for those whom it was meant

My notebook lay upon my desk
Once listed many busy tasks
Its pages blank of any script
Or any questions one might ask

The vehicles are sparsely scattered
Upon the tarmac freshly painted
Shrink and stretch their shadows mark
Another day that hardly mattered

I hear the echoes of days long past,
Whispered sounds of those I knew
And with the plant, I mark my time
To contemplate how long I’ll last.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Nails for Breakfast

I know a few people who have giant egos. This statement may seem like a derogatory statement, but I find it a compliment and something to aspire too. The people I know with the trait I am describing have a faith in their abilities that nothing and no one can shake. Their self esteem is rarely crushed by set-backs in their endeavors. In fact any variation from the original plan is viewed as a learning tool to take forward and apply to their effort and bring it to fruition. They never wallow in self pity or bemoan a missed opportunity, but rather make opportunities for themselves. Strong in mind and will, they take no offense at insensitive barbs. You may actually have to point out to them that they are being offended before it is even recognized.

It is no wonder the people I admire are able to achieve their professional goals and attain the positions they desire. Their single minded confidence in their abilities leaves no room for failure. Should they not be where they want to be now, it is only because they are not there yet. The plan is in place and it will happen soon. I have noticed that they never lose sight of the goal. All else is external and peripheral or gauged in its value as useful to the plan.

I am watching them in order to recreate this in myself. I need a bit more inner strength to withstand the sense of rejection that comes with the employment search. Can anything leave one feeling more vulnerable than exposing on paper the achievements of your life, and posting them for the world to see? No one reading this short script can imagine the toil and trauma behind the starched and pressed words on the page. This is your one chance to catch the attention of a potential employer. The selling of your self has begun.

If you are fortunate, you will be summoned for an audience. You prepare a script for any possible question. You practice your best smile. In their hands are your starched and pressed words being picked apart and analyzed for their worthiness. You are thanked for your time and ushered back out the door…to wait. To wait and wait some more until finally you realize you have been rejected.

It is under just such a series of events that found me a victim of self pity. I indulged in a full hour of it, filled with self reproach. “I should have said this” or “maybe I should have” that, forever second guessing the process. It was then that I reached to retrieve an item from my tote bag. My hand stopped short, I wiped at the angry tear that threatened to flow, and pulled the bag up onto my desk. There, I perched it at an angle I could view for the remainder of the day. On this bag, is a quote I learned from my ego filled, self esteemed friend. This quote has carried me through tougher times than this mistake at not recognizing my greatness. In fact I would have been a perfect fit and a great addition to their team. However, they will suffer the consequences of not hiring a strong and capable woman such as me. A pressed and starched resume cannot reveal that “I Eat Nails for Breakfast!”