New York City Adventure

It started out as a simple trip to NYC for the annual Friends of the Ground (FOG) party.  Normally held the first weekend in February, the party had been postponed until June 15 due to the death of one of Ed's very close friends, an original friend of the ground hog, I believe.  It was a great party for the 42nd or is it the 43rd time?  We're newbies to FOG.  We've only been attending for about twelve years.

Instead of just popping in for the party, we expanded our stay into a mini vacation.  The goal was to do things we had not done in some time or had never done before.  The adventure went something like this:

• Friday:  Arrived by train about 1PM.  Once settled in a hotel in the financial district next to South Street Seaport (we got on a great Priceline deal) and delighted in pizza and wine for
  
  lunch,  we walked over to the Staten Island Ferry for an after noon round trip ride.  Then it was off to Broadway for The Assembled Parties.
• Saturday: A morning walk of the High Line Park on the west side, then cross town and downtown to Little Italy and a first time visit to the Italian American Museum.  We took a break for a late lunch in Soho.  The pasta stuffed with lobster melted in our mouths.  It was memorable.  We met Diana and Bobby for drinks at 6:30 a their hotel in Gramercy Park, then walked over to Agave, a notable Mexican restaurant, in the Village for the FOG party.  We closed the place down.  Got Dan and Ed back to Ed's apartment before taxing back to our hotel.
• Sunday: Met the FOG survivors for brunch at noon back at Agave.  Took the subway from the Village to the Brooklyn Museum of Art to see fabulous exhibits -- the water colors of John Singer Sargent and the sculpture of El Anatsui, an African Ghanaian artist who works in
  
  Nigeria.  The man transforms metal trash such as tin can bottoms and bottle labels and tops into flowing and movable art.  We ended the day with dinner in Chelsea and a 2.5 mile evening walk back to our hotel.
• Monday: Began the day with a full course American breakfast.  John ate a mountain of Nova, cream cheese and whole wheat toast while I attempted consume bacon, two eggs over easy, a side of fried potatoes, and whole wheat toast.  At least the toast was healthy.  Then we hopped on the Lexington Ave subway to 103rd street and walked over three blocks to the Museum of the City of New York, one of the few open on Mondays.  Great exhibits.  Two hours later we found ourselves walking through the conservatory area of Central Park and down through the reservoir to 72nd street when the rain began to sprinkle down on us.  By the time we reached the 68th street station on Park Avenue, only the umbrella kept us from a good soak.  Once back by the hotel, the rain stopped and we found Fraunces Tavern in the Seaport area for a late afternoon cocktails with fresh oysters on the half shell and wild mushroom toast.  We did a quick change then took the 2/3 line to Soho for Ed's birthday dinner with Ed, Carol and Dan.  Another favorite Mexican restaurant, Dom Caminos.  Yes, it's Ed eating theme and it's the only time I eat Mexican -- because only  Ed picks the good ones.  No Tex Mex for that boy!
• Tuesday:  We woke to find ourselves exhausted, our feet achy from all the urban hiking and ready to come home.  So we passed on the trip to the Cloisters, packed up our belongings and taxied to Penn Station.  There, we changed our tickets for a mid day instead of late day departure, grabbed one last slice and hopped the train home. 

It was all very good time and the laundry got done by bedtime.  This morning, two days later, we leave for the Jersey Shore and our first grandson's high school graduation.  We need to retire.  Work is getting in the way!

 

Repairs can soon begin!

Joy to the world! We deposited a check for over $60,000 for repairs to Forte Vento.  Finally, repairs can begin.  John is organizing and becoming a project manager once again.  With luck, we'll get to sail in September.

Facing reality

I took several interviews with a private "executive" consulting company recently. This was the third opportunity in the last six months.  It too resulted in a "thank-you, but no thank-you." The first was a local non-profit where I was the "last man standing" but was dropped at the last minute when a new board member, an ex-face book executive, said I didn't have sufficient "social media" experience.  I can just imagine her saying to her new colleagues, "You don't need no friggin' CIO. All you need is a Social Media Maven."   In the second opportunity, I was one of the 15 presented to the head hunter's client, but was not selected for an interview.  I had no idea why that happened until this last opportunity revealed the answer.  "You have such a deep experience, but it's not exactly what we need right now" means "You are too old for us".  I have reached the magic point in my life when I'm older than everyone else.    That's me and all the other baby boomers, so, at least, I'm not alone.

Am I angry - yes!  Am I down about it - yes!  Do I have to come to grips with my situation - yes!  I working on it.   I've decided to  commit to my current gig at the Peace Corps for the next 27 months. It doesn't hold the excitement of the "turn around" situation I faced in the first two years; however, I'll make plain ol' everyday management work for me.  I'm still the "determined little dumpling" my friend Holly called me way back in 1972 when I left the Midwest for big city lights!  It's a mental thing-- I am turning my head around, setting the path and moving cleanly toward a retirement of sailing adventures with a smile on my face.  When we finish off the boat payments and get it all fitted out for living aboard, we'll be two of the 8,000 boomers who retire everyday.

The Dancers

My sister and her husband Harold enjoy the good life in their retirement.  They are not rich so they don't go off on exotic trips much nor indulge in expensive material objects.  They live simply, but they certainly aren't bored because -- they dance.  And dance.  And dance.  It's a passion.  They cruise to dance, drive to resorts to dance and just plain dance two to three nights a week right in the neighborhood.  Are they good?  It's like asking am I a good sailor.  The obvious answer is not really, but I do it well enough to stay afloat, am always learning maneuvers and techniques, and enjoy the time sailing together with John.  It's a passion so it doesn't matter.   I like passion, so let's here a round of applause for passion and the happiness it can bring into our lives.

Scarface

You would think, that at my age, I would learn to walk and chew gum at the same time.  Obviously, that is not the case as you can see from the accompanying picture.  When wearing running shoes and walking on living room wood floors, you should not attempt to walk in two directions at once.  If you do, as I did, your left foot will trip over your right foot that refuses to move when your body moves.   Result -- slam bam!

There was a goodly amount of blood, but no concussion as declared by John when he jumped into EMT mode. He flashed a small flashlight in my eyes. Eye dilation was good.

 The bruises blossomed this morning -- that is not make up around my eye.  I feel like a horse with a blinder on the right.  I went to work this morning, only to feel really, really tired and achy by 11 so I came home at noon.  I cancelled my personal trainer for this evening,  then fell into bed and slept like the dead for the afternoon.  It appears that my right shoulder is non too happy about being banged on the floor either.

Tomorrow is another day.  I will heal.  The scar will blend in with the wrinkles.  Ah, the advantage of old age.

Forte Vento Update

It's a month later. We received pictures of "the fall" this week from folks who were in the yard that morning. A boat out of water is not a graceful object to behold.  The term "beached whale" comes to mind.

We are hoping that this week all the estimates will be finalized.  Once the insurance company cuts a check the repairs can begin.  Memorial Day weekend is normally our first big sail of the season.  Obviously, this year we are in mourning, trying to make it through the holiday land locked.  There will be a baseball game on Saturday.  On Sunday, we'll clear the interior of the boat so the refinishing work can be done.  When she's done, Forte Vento will be good as new with no scars showing.  When that is, is still undetermined.

A grandson's prom

Jeremy and his sweet heart

Remember what it felt like to be 18?  Life's adventure was just beginning. I found myself looking at my grandson's prom picture this weekend remembering those feelings, the excitement and anticipation of what was to come.  Would I do it all over again?  Would I make the same moves? The same mistakes?  Would I have the same fears? What do you think?

Then, there's the little brother. He's in the wings, four years younger, hanging out, killing time, looking bored with all the fuss around his big brother. But is it all just a front?  I bet he has his fantasies about what he'll wear to his prom -- he the fashionista of the family.  Don't let that casual dress fool you -- Each piece of clothing was carefully selected and coordinated.  It takes work.

The prom -- an American life milestone.  Whether you are rich or poor or in the middle somewhere, prom is a rite of passage. Where did I spend my senior prom night?  With my two best girl friends, robbing dad's liquor cabinet.  The house was empty so we drank in my the bedroom upstairs, playing cards and telling stories.  Yes, we refilled the gin bottle with water.  No, we didn't exactly get away with it.   I really thought my parents believed me when I told them that Diana was holding the toilet bowl because she had a sudden flu. How did I know that sweet vermouth on top of everything else could do that.  For the first time that I could remember, my parents didn't yell.  I didn't get grounded. Dad made pancakes in the morning.  We recovered and, despite the 70's, ended up as responsible grown-ups and now wrinkling, almost retired boomers.  Jeremy will do the same, only better with much more dignity and, with luck, fewer mistakes.

Wedding by the Bay

It rained the day before and the day after, but on May 10th the clouds parted, the sun sparkled on the Bay, and the breeze blew for Alison and Hamilton's wedding by the Chesapeake Bay.  There was much laughter as we learned how they met and many a teary eye as they shared their vows.  Alison is yin to Hamilton's yang.  We were so pleased that our dear friend Ed was able to walk his daughter down the aisle.

No progress on repairs.

It was a bad dream that woke me at 3AM.  About being on a boat that couldn't sail.  But that's not a dream. It's our reality.  Not only did we lose the mast and boom, all the rigging, get scratches and holes in the hull, loosen a few fittings on the inside, but now we see that the metal arch over the cockpit lists to the starboard, a wound from the fall into the boat next to Forte Vento.

Three weeks and it's all talk about insurance companies.  I thought Herrington Harbour owners were going to take care of everything. They keep telling John they will, but there's been no progress.  I'm afraid we'll not sail again this season.  It's what literally is keeping me up at night.

Cherry Blossoms resist spring chills

It was her first metro ride.  Amid a packed metro car, stroller and all, we made our way from Courthouse to the Smithsonian stop on the orange line.  Miss Bridget loved it -- so many people and things to see.  We made our way down to the boat basin in a sea of people swimming in the fresh air and sunshine.  The crowds overcame Nana so we found a nice place to sit by the water for a bit.  Pop-pop gave a short botany lesson,explaining why the cherry blossoms were still buds.  Bridget, a good granddaughter, listened intently, pretending to understand everything he said.  Her Mom and I chuckled, proud that Pop-pop is near the top of her her A-list, right next to Mommy.

We walked some more, just missing the National Pillow Fight, up to the National History Museum where Miss B. got her first look at Henry the mighty elephant in the rotunda.  She was amazed at all the animals and dinosaurs. "Up! Up!"   she commanded.  Miss B. needs a better view.  In her eyes you could see what she meant, "I can't see a damn thing down here at knee level!  Help!"  And so Pop-pop and Mom did as commanded-- they shared her on their shoulders, first one and then the other.  Miss B. had a 5.5' + high view for the rest of the day.

In other news--Miss B. can say her last name -- all four syllables, and, as you know, that no small feat for a 20 month old kid.

Disaster in dry dock!

The call came about 9AM this morning.  It happened in the night, not at sea, but on land in slot J-2ww where Forte Vento had been hauled for a fresh cost of bottom paint to ready her for the coming sailing season.  What happened?  The braces on the port side of Forte Vento had slipped out from under sending her into the boat in the next lot.  Luckly, it was a slow fall, not a careening fall, or the damage would have been worse. 

The mast was bent almost 90 degrees and hung precariously until the marina staff  detached it and lifted it off with a crane.  On the ground, it looked and was declared dead, never to be repaired.  The rest we are told is repairable -- the scars and gouges in the hull on the port side and the interior dented and dinged teak from the flying   dishes and drinking glasses.  We were lucky -- it could have been much worse.

The marina managers were shocked, humbled and apologetic.  Matt said, "In 24 years of working in marinas, I've never seen this happen."  Hamilton confirmed, "This has never happened at Herrington Harbour before and we will make everything right -- even better than right."  Our frustration and anger evaporated with what he said.  Our insurance surveyer was sure it can all be repaired and should not cost us a penny.

Forte Vento will be sea worthy again as soon as possible. We are keeping our fingers crossed for a two week cruise starting Memorial Day weekend. It all depends how fast they can get the parts.  There's rigging, mast, boom, mainsail, electrical  wiring, lines and more to be acquired and assembled.  Do you know where we might pick up a $18,000 mast with a $6,000 furled main sail that perfect for a 2011 Hunter 39'? 

Getting off my butt to save my waist

I am in trouble. My waist is dying.  If I don't do something, not only will I loose it, I will never again zip up my slacks and still be able to breath.  It's a full blown crisis.  I caught my image in the mirror last night and found a lumpy old lady.  Even with great hair, make-up and slimming jeans I looked like slowly swelling balloon in my middle.  I'm halfway vain, but what "keeps me up at night" are thoughts of diabetes,  CPT, high blood pressure, and heart disease.  If I'm not careful, I'll become my mother.

For years I've been able to control the fat creep despite the death of my metabolism over the past five years.  But, after the shoulder surgery last November, following doctor's orders,  I stopped exercising to allow the left shoulder to heal slowly.  He even prohibited physical therapy for six weeks.  However,  he didn't give me any guidance on eating and drinking, so I merrily kept going at the old pace.  The results were predictable.  It's what  I saw in the mirror...I just groaned, turned my head and rushed away.

So what's the plan?  It started today...John left for San Francisco for the week so there's a chance I can dive in to develop a bit of discipline before he gets home.  The goal -- a waist line.  A shape that says, "Hey, she's looking healthy AND looking good!"  Wish me luck.

50 years later

Betty Friedan's book, "The Feminine Mystique" is 50 years old this week. It changed the course of American womanhood.  Most importantly, that book and others like it made my life possible. I knew what it was to be trapped in the home with few skills and the expectation of life long dependence.  My mother's life frightened me to the core.  She never really understood even though she tried. In 1971, when I showed her the name on my checkbook was, "Mrs. Robert Waskis".  She said, "Yes, so?"  With tears running down my cheeks, I screamed,  "I have lost my identity! I am Dorine Andrews, not his shadow!"  She sighed, returned to reading her paper in her recliner, and said, "I don't see the point. It's how things work."  

I saw what being Mrs. Colin Andrews did to my mother.  She ate her way through depression until he died in 1979 and she weighed near 250 pounds and would remain so for the rest of her life.  I promised myself never, never to let that happen.    I was scared.  I was insecure.  I scratched my way into a career zigging and zagging my way to financial security.  I made many, many mistakes; had three failed marriages; but I also raised a daughter, built many long lasting friendships with women over the years, married a guy who liked my independence, and have gained the recognition and contentment I always yearned for.

My daughter took her husband's name without a thought of loosing her identity.  She expects equal footing and she gets it.  I am proud.  Thanks, Betty!

New toys to help the winter pass

Forte Vento floats in her slip nicely.  Lines sag appropriately and tighten just enough against the breeze, protecting her from rubbing up against the dock.  Our babbler keeps the water moving around her so ice won't form.  But, it's not a happy place in the winter.  Even with the sun popping out from behind the heavy, fast moving winter clouds, the marina has an empty feeling.  It's almost makes me sad.  So many boats have been pulled and now sit on "sticks" looking like ducks out of water--elegant but not graceful.  We checked her out last Sunday.  Oh, how we miss sailing season.

To pass the time, besides organizing our tax papers, I'm testing a new toy -- Microsoft's new Surface tablet (It's on loan  from my work).  In fact, I'm creating this post using it now.  The good news it that it has Word, Excel and PowerPoint.  The basic keyboard doesn't work so well on a hard surface, but on my lap it delivers.  It's something between a normal key board and a sleep number bed in terms of design.  The pressure to touch the keys has some flexibility.  It is also like riding a bicycle. The more you use it, the better it gets.  It is amazingly better than the touch screen for someone like myself who is touch typist. 

It's just not the right thing

I got it in my head last fall that "wouldn't it be nice to sit on a board of directors or two" after I retired. Many small and mid-cap for profits boards pay anywhere from $60 to $200,000/year to its members. Always enjoying a conversion with myself (and not those strange voices that can whisper in your ear in the middle of the night), I said, "I've got lots of experience, and I certainly know a lot about a lot of industries after 30 years in the systems consulting business."

"Well," I responded, "how do I go about getting on a board?  My network is good, but not that good."  I pondered, but not for long.  My young neighbor, Liz, learned about a board member training program just for women.  It was  put together in 2011 by Women in Technology and they named it the Leadership Foundry.  "Ah, just the thing for me," I exclaimed.  And yes, I qualified for the program and paid my $3,000 for a year's training and networking opportunities with local companies.

This week I attended the formal two-day training program on board membership led by the National Association of Corporate Directors or NACD.  The course was actually riveting -- full of facts and stories about boards and situations where our instructors had served.  It was also a great opportunity to meet fifteen other successful women.  We spent the first evening at dinner together in constant conversation.  It is amazing what women are doing today and the fields they work in.  I was humbled by their experience and their presence.  And, as many friends know, I don't humble easily.

Today,as our training wrapped up, I came to a decision that surprised me.  I spoke to myself quite clearly and resolutely.  "Dorine,"  I said,  "You are not a good fit to be a board member."  The financial and governance responsibilities, if you take them seriously, are substantial, but that didn't scare me.  Even I can refresh my knowledge of the complexities of financial statements and learn the role of strategic oversight.  And, I can create a snappy elevator speech about what I bring to a board and chat up any number of corporate leaders with it.  What cinched my decision is the amount of patience and positioning it will take on my part to make an impact.  Moving swiftly is moving in three years!  It's not about "getting on with it" as one does in grilling a steak.  It's all about "letting things simmer and stirring occasionally"  as one does with making a pot roast to ensure all the flavors come together.  A new board member is someone who has served two years.

Be still my heart!  That is not who I am or ever will be.  But, I walk away with a great deal of knowledge and new insights.  Perhaps, some day, it will all be valuable and put to use.

Enveloped in fog

Dense, soupy gray warm air blankets my world this morning. I can't see the tree tops just outside our balcony.  We went to bed with it and woke up with  it.  They promise sunshine by noon.  Until then, I'm cozy, sitting on the couch watching Sunday Morning and typing away on my Ipad.

The Oscar nomination announcements this week sent hordes of people to the movies--kind of.  Our Saturday noon excursion to see "Silver Linings Playbook" turned into a group adventure.  Not a seat in the house was empty.  After we broke for a late lunch, then went to a second movie, "Hyde Park on the Hudson" where only one quarter of the seats were filled.  Good figure!  I thought both were good movies, but not exceptional.

My daughter made me proud recently.  She's accepted a new and challenging position that moves her into a new industry (from insurance to cable television).  It's also moved the family into a new tax bracket so theor concerns about money for the boys' college fees and repairs their shore cottage after Hurricane Sandy flooded the place with three feet of water have evaporated with the water.

I've made a decision that makes me proud.  On August 16, 2015, I will have five years in my job and it will be time to hang up my keyboard.  The CIO  job has turned out to be more rewarding than I expected, but it has  also helped me calm my career spanning itchy feet and helped me accept that there will soon be time for the next generation to take over the leadership.  It's even fun now.    My team and I have a bit more than 2.5 years to put in place technology that will alter our organization's operations culture.  We've just started and they'll keep it evolving after I leave. It's surprisingly exciting.  For the first time in my career, I'm not anxious to move on.  I'm staying put.  Hurray!

The New Year is upon us

The  fiscal cliff crumbled at the last minute -- no falling, just stumbling through the rubble.  We should feel good about this, but from what I understand, not much has been resolved.  Shall we carry on living the life that is thrown at us?  I suggest we do so with gusto! 

We greeted the new year as we have since 2000 by joining childhood friends and family in Severna Park.  Eating started at 7:30, after we gussied-up (That used to mean fancy clothes.  Now it means lipstick and a clean sweater).  There were sushi, grilled oysters, lobsters, truffle potatoes, salad, and dessert topped off with a champagne toast at midnight amid sparklers, flying confetti and much kissing and hugging amongst the nine of us.  There was a time we continued to party almost to dawn, but those days are long gone.  Proudly, however, we did rumpus about until 2AM. Not bad for a bunch of dudes their 60's and 70's.  It is a warm and comforting time.  Happy New Year!

My Daughter is Awesome!

How we look is exactly how we feel.  I need to say no more.

Merry Christimas in New York

With my arm sans sling and swinging at my side, we are are visiting family and friends in New York City this week.  Christmas Eve found us walking down 5th avenue amid twinkling lights, last minute shoppers and the bright lights of the empire state building.   Such a joy!  No pain in the hip for John and no blisters on the feet for me .

The day before, to celebrate 20 years together, we hopped the F train to Red Hook Brooklyn and walked against 30 knot winds to visit Steve Riley, an artist John discovered from searching the Internet before we left.  We picked out a square ring for me and three wood pieces for John.


Grandchildren are well. Kids are well. Friends are well.  A holiday with no drama, just chilly breezy weather!  Our plan to address the Christmas cards from the comfort of our hotel was shoved aside for walks up and down Manhattan.  We visited department stores to see the decorated windows (Lord & Taylor's is the best). 

Now, the day after Christmas, the weather threatens -- do we leave today or cross our fingers, hope the weather threats are exaggerated, and leave tomorrow as planned? 

On the mend!

I finally got a good night's sleep on Tuesday night and again last night.  I have even ventured to not wearing the sling for an hour in the morning and evening just to release the tension for the strap around my shoulders.