In high clover…..

Remember the good old days when you actually had a software library? You paid a one time purchase price, got a CD and Instruction Book, and had the CD until the software was either outdated or no longer useful. Remember those days? I do. Being a graphic artist, I use Adobe Illustrator nearly every day. These days, I pay a monthly fee for the usage privilege but never actually own the software. Sort of like leasing a car you never intend to buy. This could be quirky old me, and others possibly think it far more convenient. For my part, I am a fan of receiving tangible objects for my money. Take books, for example. I prefer to read actual books you can hold and turn the pages. Just me.

My first experience with Illustrator was in 2000. I was working for a start-up company in the Bay Area. The company had lured me out of my previous job with promises of much higher wages and valuable stock options once the company, supposedly on a rocket trajectory to success, went public. My shares were stored in my safety deposit box along with my dreams of trips to exotic locales, a villa in the south of France, and a glorious donation to my children’s bank accounts to remember me fondly by upon my demise. Not to be, my friends. After nearly two years of nearly making that office my home, the technology the company was developing turned out to cost more to make than they could market it for. Duh and double duh, the CEO and CFO might have figured that out prior to getting the investors on board, I’m just saying. With no IPO forthcoming, the company laid off it’s nearly 100 employees, and closed it’s doors. My ten thousand or so shares went up in smoke along with my lofty dreams of world travel, in a ceremonial fire on a local beach after downing a couple of nice bottles of chardonnay with friends. Ah well.

At any rate, nowadays, I pay a monthly premium for the “use” of Illustrator every month. Several months ago, I decided I wanted to also learn to use Indesign, another Adobe program popular with designers. I went online and added it to my list of “rental software” which also added another monthly premium. Sigh. Learning virtually isn’t always the best option for me. I found the on-line instruction confusing, and wasn’t making much forward progress in wrapping my arms around Indesign. I decided to cancel. Not so fast, Bubba, says Murphy. My first roadblock, Adobe is very difficult to reach. They do not make it easy to get to a customer service rep. When I went on line, the system informed me if I cancelled, I would be held responsible for $140 in early cancellation fees. Whoa. Sooooo, I ended up on a “chat” with a representative most likely in Mozambique or points south. Turns out, after learning I wished to cancel, he now was offering me three months free if I stayed til the end of the subscription. I said I would take that offer, on the condition he would ensure me it wouldn’t be automatically renewed. That idea didn’t even get off the ground. Apparently, it is up to me to catch the reminder email awash in the copious sea of emails I receive every day. If not, it will, in fact, renew automatically. Fine. I have noted the exact day on my calendar, and I will catch it, but the experience reminded me once again to research thoroughly what I am signing up for before I go all it. In turn, I am reminding you. That being said, I am by God going learn that program since I am dishing out the money for it. Maybe this is the universe’s way of saying, “get off your lazy behind and just do it”!

This has been a hugely busy couple of weeks. A friend came up from the Bay Area over the weekend and I took a much needed sabbatical to spend time with her. We mostly ate, shopped, went to the movies, and ate again. Oh, did I mention we ate? My next scheduled meal should be breakfast, June 8, 2023. I believe I have enough calories stored to carry me through until then. It was great. I am totally blessed with the ladies who populate my life. Many of my friends I’ve known for years, and I value them all. Each one brings something special to my table making me a very lucky girl in so many ways.

Well rather than describing myself as lucky, more accurately I would say I am blessed, for I do not consider myself a lucky person. By that, I mean I am not lucky in games, drawings, or anything really involving chance. It must be written somewhere in my chart, “Susie will work for what she wants and needs. Luck will have no part in her story”. I would like to write an addendum to that notation, to apply to my remaining time on earth. If the universe is listening, I’m totally on board with this concept. Have your people contact my people. Truthfully, if I was you and had a chance to bet on a competition I was participating in, I would definitely put my money on my opponent. I can sit at the same slot machine for three hours and never hit a jackpot. Should I get up and move to the one directly next to it, in short order someone will sit down at the same machine, pull the handle once, and every light in the place will go off. Intellectually I know it is not me, but there is a nagging thought echoing deep inside my mind yelling, “Nope, it definitely is you”. Can’t help it, sometimes I actually think that damn voice has a point.

My therapist and I are working on the timbre of my inner voice. Your “inner voice” is the little voice inside your brain proclaiming loudly when you trip over the hose in the front yard, “well, that was stupid”, or reminding you when you are trying to open someone else’s car door with your key in the grocery store parking lot, “this is not your car, genius”. You know the one. My little voice has a wicked, wicked mouth at times, and I’m trying to teach it how to speak more kindly to myself and with love. Nameste.

Therapy is a journey of discovery. Uncovering what makes you tick, can be both very rewarding, and at times endlessly tiresome. Wouldn’t it be great if you simply bought those decadent shoes you didn’t need, brought them home, and wore them and enjoyed them? If you put them on your feet without ever questioning if you bought them because you were depressed, your boyfriend left you for the barista at Starbuck’s, or the shoes simply looked more than fabulous on your feet. But, nooooooo. Instead you have to nag yourself about them, reminding yourself of the recent budget you crafted sitting in your excel folder that did not include extra funding for the lovely black heels with red soles. Then, when you wear them and a blister forms on the back of your heel, somehow that voice is snickering and gloating, telling you this is your karma for being a bad, bad girl. Not. I will not listen. Bad shoes are what keeps Johnson & Johnson bandaid division in high clover. If women didn’t insist on wearing uncomfortable poorly fitting footwear they might have to lay off thousands of employees. If you look at it that way, we’re actually performing a public service. Your welcome.

I am hoping that cooking will begin to peak my interest again soon. It makes me sad I seem to have temporarily put a “closed due to lack of interest” sign on my kitchen door, abandoning my utensils and cookware to a life of boredom and decay. I know it is just part of the grieving process, but still it is odd for me not to be chopping and humming by the kitchen sink. This too will pass I’m sure, and my pots and pans will once again come out of retirement. For now though, I have enough leftovers for a week, so “good on you” I say.

Happy Monday! Hope the week treats you well and high clover is but a field away.