It is that time again and I am already deep in denial and dread. I go through this every year. I have always been great about occasions even though we hear complaints that occasions are really drummed up by ‘card companies’, like American Greetings or Hallmark. Now the advertising wheel is enormous and you become drenched with every possible occasion.

When I look at my calendar, I am surprised at all of the pre-marked dates. Secretary’s day, bosses day, grandparent’s day, teacher appreciation day. The greeting card areas are enormous now. Its nuts really but we bought right into it and now it is just a way of life.

I have tried very hard to tune all of this out. I always try. It never helps.

As a result, I really am in a fog about the date. I don’t pay much attention. Today I had an appointment that I truthfully knew nothing about. I’m under the weather but missing an appointment instead of cancelling is unheard of in my world. I will start paying attention next week. I will get back into a cycle and life will be so much better. I just need to get past the weekend.

I always miss her the most on Mother’s Day.

The Division of Licensing has been beating me. This has caused me great angst because although they aren’t as official as many agencies, they DO control my ability to operate a vehicle. additionally, many businesses require your driver’s license to identify yourself. As we move toward the obvious, a public identity card, some states have already declared that a driver’s license is not  an identity card. interesting. Nor is your social security card.

I just want to drive.

I went to the license office almost 2 months ago, all geared up to take the written test and get a new license. didn’t work that way at all. they said I just needed to hand in my old license, prove my identity, get my photo taken and I’d be finished. they didn’t even care if I could see. they didn’t care if I knew the driving regulations in their state. Seemed excessively easy.

I had looked at their website, learning what I might need to take along for ID. The website examples are to bring a utility bill in applicant name, to the correct home address. A passport not expired longer than a year. A military ID. A federal employee ID. A current driver’s license from another state. They offer many identity choices. Two very long lists of them. I have never had a problem proving who I am so I did not expect a problem here.

this is something with which few men will identify. my name is Dorothy Alexa Marguerite Conway. society puts women in a spot after they marry. people in quite a few places can actually change a woman’s name, to make their filing system work more easily. when I married, I was 50 years old. I owned several houses in my name, owned my car, was buying another home, in my name, was an officer of the court, in my name, had 4 passports (you know, my name). So, since I already had 4 names, did I want to add a 5th? no, I really did not. my name was so long that no government office or form would accept it as it was. therefore, someone (a typist) would make a decision to shorten my name. think about that. long name. 3 of the names can easily be misspelled. as a result, the typist almost always drops a name. so, I have ID that shows me as Dorothy M Conway, as Alexa M Conway, as DA Conway, as (my favorite) DAM Conway, as Dorothy Alexa Conway. There are more, believe me. So many combinations available. I have too many names. I have never had a problem proving who I am, getting licenses in several states and territories.

This was easy. I went in with my current drivers license. It identifies me as Alexa M Conway Smith. Yep. Smith. Why? Well, because a well-intentioned young lady in Oregon added Smith to my last name, without proof of my identity, without a marriage certificate, without any substantiation that I had increased the size of my name. She recognized my husband, then she just did it. When she handed me my Oregon license, it said smith, behind everything else. I gulped. I was looking for the first time at a name that was foreign to me. My brand new husband was standing next to me, beaming. She was beaming. I was silent, not wanting to hurt him or her. I thanked her and we went on our way. today I would like to have her take that name off of my license. Not just because he is having a very public affair. Not because we are heading toward divorce. Not even because smith is such a common name and it increases the difficulty of my identity. Nope. Just because it was never my choice and because I liked my name just fine and it irks me that a woman is so easily re-identified in this society. She didn’t change HIS name to conway-smith. Only mine. Uh huh. I’m one of those.

So, the license office here did not like it that my name was smith on my license but not on my social security card. Well, duh. I never legally changed my name! but, you know who did? My health insurance company. Someone there just decided that I would be easier to find if my last name was the same as my husband’s. just like that, my records all went to smith. So now, I have to help them find me. Sometimes it’s conway-smith, sometimes it’s smith. We never know. It’s an easter egg hunt. Then, amazingly, my insurance company that handles my auto insurance, my homeowners insurance and my credit card, began to call me conway-smith. Wow. Another ‘somebody’ just decided it was easier. The first time we got our insurance cards, after I added my husband to my accounts, the cards came in my name, with his name listed afterwards. He had a fit. This did not work for him. It was my account. Everything had been mine. I added him to my accounts. Now, he was mad because things came in my name. so, I had to call them, asking that they put his name on things equally. The woman I spoke with completely understood. I explained to my husband that women deal with this all the time and he really should put his ego in check. It wasn’t a big deal. He would have none of it. So, when she put his name onto my accounts, she also changed my name. again, I was stunned. I was also conway-smith.

I am at fault here for not fighting for my identity. But, I married for life. I knew I could handle the little upsets that might come along with the name situation. Now, things are different. I don’t like seeing his name on my things. It hurts. I don’t like the feeling I get, knowing my husband is living with someone who decided my marriage wasn’t as important as her wants. So, I want to be rid of the ‘smith’ stuff. But, that’s a personal issue. Right now, I just want my new driver’s license. This is a fight.

I arrived in the licensing office with the following: my current license, an expired passport (the latest one was in an envelope, headed to salt lake city for renewal), a federally issued photo ID, two bills (utility and trash) mailed to me, at my home address, my auto insurance card and policy, in my name, at my address. Armed for anything, I took a number and waited. They would not accept my ID.

I went back 3 days later, better armed. This time I was carrying 3 passports, including the one that had been in the envelope to be renewed. This office suddenly caused  an urgency I had not experienced in a very long time. I also took my airline ID, federally issued, with my photo. I took my court photo ID, 4 bills, a letter from the IRS written to ME, at my home address, with my social security number, and my full name and they would not accept it.

I went 7 times. By now, the people recognize me by name. but, they won’t accept my ID. finally, I won. They took my photo and sent me on my way, promising my new license would arrive by mail w/in a week. I was happy/sad. Happy to accomplish this, sad because I had long given up on looking good in my photo. The first time I had arrived straight from the hairdresser. Looking as good as was possible for my age. As the visits continued, I began doing less and less about my appearance, knowing that today was not going to be my day.

I decided whatever picture I had was fine. It wasn’t. but, I still felt good about the achievement. That feeling lasted 3 weeks. by then my license was long overdue. I had travelled to Florida to help my aunt Dot, with a flimsy little temporary license that caused much dismay to the airline screeners. Their dismay caused lots of searching on my personal being.

I had no license waiting when I returned. I began to fret. I started calling the licensing division. That’s fun. It’s also fruitless. I scoured their website for information and actually found a link that says contact us here if you have not received your license! What foresight! I ‘clicked’ and wrote. I sent my full name, address, date of application, old license number and state, last 4 digits of my social. 3 days later I got a note back informing me that I needed to send my name, address, last 4 digits, date of application, old license number AND new temp license number. Otherwise, no help for me. Incredible but people NEED jobs and without this time consuming effort on her part, she might not appear to be as employable. I found the last puzzle piece and sent the note back.

She wrote. She did not like my ID. I would not receive my license. Noooooooooooooooooooooo. I wrote again, begging, offering meals, trying to be her friend, trying to learn anything that might help me work through this latest glass ceiling. No good. She finally told me to go to the social security office, change my name, get a new card, then start the process again. Amazing. This is where we live. Amazing. They all know I am really ME. Nobody will make a decision.

So, today I went back. I was fully armed. Now I carry things in a large overstuffed envelope. I learned online that the office has a ‘identification specialist’ who has the authority to make a decision.

I went to one of ‘my people’, asking for the identification specialist. She was very nice. Sorry to learn I had not gotten my license. She was also perplexed that I had actually corresponded with someone who could supposedly help. She questioned me about that frequently. I kept explaining exactly where to find it on THEIR website. I was getting nowhere. Then, I began to cry. Really cry. One year ago, my dad passed away. It’s been on my mind. Maybe that spurred the tears but my frustration level over them refusing something so basic, simply because the person making the decision can ‘choose’ to ignore the obvious, has beaten me down. I need them. they don’t need me. I don’t want to break the law but I WILL drive. I MUST drive. I am alone. I need things. Driving is the answer.

Two men began to eves-drop and move in closer. The customer next to me dug out a Kleenex. By now I was well into the ‘ugly cry’, no stopping me. Two more men, one who had helped me several times, became part of the ‘employee circle’. Everyone is questioning and trying to help. Finally, one man (maybe he was actually the Identification Specialist!) made the decision. I would get a license! I was beyond thrilled. I asked him out for drinks immediately! He had the good sense to ignore me.

So, I am waiting for my new license to appear in the mail. I know what you’re thinking: why would this time be any different? What makes me think it’s actually going to be sent, when that ‘person’ is lying in wait to refuse me? I will tell you exactly why: because they took my picture again, because I looked like shit, because I had not washed my hair or put on make-up, because I had sobbed, let my nose run, and had a horribly red face. Yes, this license will come. This picture will follow me for years. Forget the name, forget the hassle, forget the 8 trips to DOL. It’s all about the picture. I have never looked worse in my life. one guy offered to take me to a beauty parlor across the street to let them ‘try to fix you up’. one of the male employees actually said “alexa, (like we’re good friends), do you have any makeup in your car?” when the  picture guy got ready to take the picture, he looked at me and asked if I needed ‘a minute’. I was crying! I said ‘a minute’ would not do me a bit of good.

This license will arrive. I won!

well, I just can’t stand it. I need every flight attendant I can find because we are the only people on earth who will completely ‘get this’.

I’m talking “packing for your trip”.

I know all of us can go anywhere for 14 days with one bag and a tote or garment bag. our layover bags used to have some extras to make our lives better. (dinosaur alert!)

a plug-in ‘heating coil’ to heat hot water for coffee, tea, soups, broths. a few of us carried some sort of exercise band or something that took no space, weighed nothing, and we could possibly exercise in our rooms. we would have a spare set of undies and sox or stockings, our overnight bath items, our own shampoo, conditioner and hair dryer, probably a camera, a set of clothes for the layover, possibly a 2nd set if the trip was long. shoes. medicines, possibly a game, an IPOD or similar gadget, possibly a bathing suit. if not, then gloves, scarves, a sweater.we would be able to mix and match several different outfits in order to make our packing more efficient.

point being: we had everything we needed. we are VERY good at packing essentials, extras and personal extras into one bag. I think most of us would agree is it something of a source of pride to us. most people seriously overpack.

so, please. imagine for a moment that you were here, watching this tv show. commercial starts: “do you know how to handle those travel times when you are trying to eat healthy?” they show an attractive woman, packing a flight bag. they continue to drone: ‘remember that broiling or using nonstick cookware is important, as well as having ready snacks so you aren’t tempted to eat on the run.’ as they say this, she is picking up a small skillet. then, she grabs a bag of fruit (BAG of fruit), a coffee grinder, a bag of coffee beans, 2 cutting boards, 3 bottles of spices, and a cookbook. as she begins loading all of this crap into a suitcase, they point out that the utensils can be washed and used for a next meal (yes, she packed utensils and serving items). they continue explaining how much healthier they will eat and how much money will be saved by simply ‘planning ahead’.

they are shown reaching their hotel. oh, I know! it wasn’t just ONE person, it was TWO!!  that news caught me by surprise too. so, this man and this woman enter their hotel bedroom and he puts the one bag on their bed and she drops the tote. yep. they have a kitchen in their suitcase, plus all of THEIR stuff!

one bag, one tote.

and we thought we could pack. are you as ashamed as I?

and people always thought we were dumb. I wonder why Madison Avenue still thinks everyone else is dumb?

are you the boss?

I was the boss way before I was ready. as a result, I was a very bad boss. how many of us have been the boss we love to hate? I have. I’m not proud. being a bad boss is still embarrassing to me. learning how to be a better boss, then a great boss is something I treasure.

when you are a good boss, you sorta run things in your specific neighborhood. you know you have power but you don’t need to prove that power. you collaborate. you are totally secure. you recognize that you were like the person you are teaching. you recognize that you have learned from someone else. you grow into being a boss. nobody can just ‘tag’ you as a boss. nobody can ‘bless’ you as a boss. you have to earn the boss title. otherwise, everyone around recognizes you are not really a boss. you are afraid and you have someone behind you, making you appear to be the boss. if that is the case, everyone sees that you have little, that you are afraid, that you cannot expect to be respected. you are simply someone ‘put in charge’ by someone else. you are still little.

I’ve mentioned before that I get to live in a magical place. I have wildlife and wonderful trees and flowers. I am fortunate. my mornings are spent on my balcony, watching the birds. my evenings on spent on the balcony, watching the deer.

unfortunately, I have a neighbor with 5 barking dogs. it’s noise. nothing but noise. the owners do not believe their dogs bark. the owners are never home. the dog barking is incessant.

one dog is living on the deck. the other 4 dogs live in pens, at the bottom of the yard. I feel sorry for the guy on the deck. it’s his whole life. he has this little space to defend and protect. the dogs within his reach are in pens. one dog per pen with an igloo to retreat to when needed.

the dog on the deck is the worst offender. he barks nonstop. all day, everyday. the owners do not believe this. how could they think their wonderful pet is a pest? they are never home when this is happening. they have been told the dogs bark and they really refuse to believe it. when they are home, all is quiet.

my belief is that the dog on the deck has so little to protect and control,  he is insecure. he cannot help himself. he has to defend his little deck. it encompasses his entire world, this deck. he has little choice but to prove he can defend it. if he barks enough, the other 4 dogs, in the pens below the deck, join him. then it’s way too loud. naturally the owners never deal with this because they simply do not believe it happens. it never happens when they are home.

what is going on here?

I have a theory.

the dogs only yell and scream when the boss is not here. they feel the need to do that, to protect the boss’ house during his/her absence. they are doing their job, in their opinions. but, they are only dogs. how big should their opinions really be? who is in charge here?

it’s very similar in the workplace. the owner (boss) doesn’t believe the dogs (managers) bark. he or she simply does not want to believe that the dogs (managers) he or she trained so well, would be so raucous. cannot be the truth. everyone else must be complaining due to jealousy or an insecurity of their own. the dogs don’t really bark. people just want to complain for attention and to cause issues for the dogs. and the owners/managers.

so, how do you handle this? the dog cannot really rule his or her domain. he or she is totally insecure about territory. as a result, they bark. they yell at co-workers, at workers under their control. they cannot control because they do not have the skills. they bark. they are afraid. without the boss or the owner, they are powerless. they pretend to be in control by making people afraid of them, if possible. that is their only weapon.

they need to be trained. until they are, they will bark, the dogs will bark and the managers, owners will pretend nothing is wrong. so who really needs to be trained?

I think we all know that answer.

ok. this is gonna ‘ick me out’ to even mention, but my brother keeps saying I should write about it so if I find I can’t get this done, I’ll get a drink and try again.

it’s the SPIDER STORY.

I lived in Orlando, Florida for a few years, when I was still flying for Eastern. My brother, Larry, came to visit. I had my beloved Firebird (big engine, ohhhh momma!) and we planned a trip to Gainesville to visit our family there.

we started early one morning. As I began to merge onto the interstate, I looked over my left shoulder for traffic and something caught my eye in my peripheral vision on my right.  No time to look because we were driving at about 60, merging, and I had to watch traffic. but, I also became aware of Larry. Something about him also got my attention. when I was able to look forward again, I saw Larry leaning about as far backward as someone could lean, and somehow looking ’small’. as I looked over at him, still gaining speed secure in my lane, I saw it:  the biggest, most fierce-looking spider I have EVER seen. it was on the console between larry and me. by now, larry was also leaning against his door. I wasn’t positive he wouldn’t open it and bail. this spider was enormous and looking for his next perch. when I realized my screaming had gotten his attention, I started getting off of the interstate, RIGHT NOW. larry started yelling, not at the spider circumstance, but at my sudden high-speed departure from the road.

in the airline industry we have a mantra:  I’ll fly the plane, you fight the fire. I am certain there is one similar for aiming your rocket ship down the freeway at high speeds. but, larry was trying to drive and I was trying to get out of the damned car. the spider had both of us completely under it’s control.

I DID get off of the expressway. immediately. you are not allowed to pull over on the side of the expressway unless it is an emergency. it was.

larry is yelling at me (within his rights; I had just put both of us in jeopardy when I evacuated the car). I am NOT getting back into the car. we are on the side of the expressway, cars blazing past us, horns blowing. I was NOT getting back into the car. I had pulled us right against a railing so I would have room to get out. that prevented larry from being able to open his door. now, I knew why he was yelling. he couldn’t get out.

I got back into the car. I had no choice. it is one of my bravest moments. I took the exit closest and saw a convenience store. I did a four wheel drift getting into the lot. I bailed before the car stopped. I told larry the trip was off. I was NOT getting back into that car for a 4 hour drive. oddly, my door was not the only one flung open in haste.

our machinations caught the attention of a highway patrolman. bless his heart. he had no idea what he was getting himself involved in.  he asked what the problem was and I started screaming that I was NOT getting back into the car. it hadn’t occured to me how this might present itself. a big guy (larry), an obviously upset (beautiful, enticing, brilliant), young woman, and I think the cop wondered if I was in danger. it took a while for the seriousness to hit home. he realized I was not getting back into the car. we all three went into the store and bought bug spray. I was not the least bit convinced that the spider wouldn’t take the can and beat us all to death with it. this was a HUGE spider.

larry sprayed everywhere we considered that the spider might have gone. under seats, behind things, in the trunk, in case he found access. I was not moved. when I refused to get back into the car, the cop took over. he sprayed. he sprayed. he sprayed more. he emptied the can of bug spray into my car and closed the door. I remained stoic. I did not believe for one instant that we had done anything more than annoy this spider. the car was cloudy, covered in poison. I knew the spider lived. I knew it.

incredibly, they convinced me to get back into the car. I cared less about all the poison we had just injected than the health of that enormous spider. after a bit of time, with the cop there, I was coerced back into the car. I did, however, refuse to drive. I made it very clear that when the spider next showed itself, I would be getting out of the car.

everyone agreed. the car had cleared a bit. we got inside. I was tense as a piano wire. rigid with fear. unconvinced. ready to give the car away.

as larry got behind the wheel, he took my hair bands from me (where my ponytail had been) and put one on each leg, holding his pants tight, then put his sox over and secured the hair band. uh huh. and he was trying to convince me that he thought this creature was dead.

we began our drive again. departure #3.

as we arrived in Gainesville, the spider showed itself. I got out of the car. then, larry pulled over. we started all over again. I was terrified. he convinced me one more time to get into the car. we were almost at our folks’ house. I got things out of my luggage, covered my hair, my hands, my arms, legs and feet. not that I wasn’t going to get out of the car anyway, but I was going to get out of the car while I stripped. I don’t know when I have been more frightened. honestly. this spider was so big. larry and I still talk about how big this thing was. larry is a 2 time ‘nam vet. he was afraid. hell, he was terrified.

when we pulled onto my parents land, I was already out. the folks were trying to make sense of how upset I was and why I was leaving the car in Gainesville. I meant it. I was NOT taking that car anywhere. our step dad said we would (WE? don’t think so) spray the car, keep it closed overnight, let it sit in the sun and the spider would expire. dad did not know this spider. he sprayed. he emptied the can. I watched to be sure he was thorough. car closed, in the florida sun, we went inside. I had no plan to take the car. not gonna happen.

the next morning we all went out. I explained to them that unless we found the body, I was not taking the car. we did not find a body. everyone but me was convinced the spider was dead. I was not getting into the car.

we went to a nearby store, dad bought a bug bomb. what a great guy. how many dads would go through all of this? but, I think he and mom had talked the night before about the obvious fact that I was leaving my car.  they needed a solution. he set the bug bomb off in the car, closed it up. it’s in the hot florida sun. we went about our day.

the next morning, hearing that unless I found a body I wasn’t taking the car, we went out to inspect. there, in the back window was the biggest damned spider body I’ve ever seen. I was the only one not surprised to realize that until then, nothing had impacted it. 3 cans of bug spray. 1 bug bomb. lots of heat. no escape. it had lived through all but the last. even our folks were surprised at the size of the thing. it had kinda ‘curled up’ and was still enormous. ‘deck of cards’ enormous. we all stood. nobody but our dad was willing to remove the body. not even my 2 time ‘nam vet big brother. nope. we stood aside and let dad have the honors. he used several kleenex.

for that reason, I decided to keep the car. we cleaned it and cleaned it. god knows it was worse than an asbestos site by then.

the ride home was tense and quiet. larry drove. I was still on edge. I got us headed north instead of south. I had made that drive so many times, but my mind wasn’t on it.

the spider ghost lived on.

have you seen the commercial? a woman and her daughter are at their house and a ‘bad guy’ breaks through the front door glass, coming inside right now!!! she grabs her daughter, begins running upstairs and the phone rings. now c’mon! would you really be stopping to answer that damned phone? quit it. nobody would do that. you’d be busy trying to hide and lock yourself in somewhere. good grief. you’ve gotta laugh.