Day 13 - The Pedestrian

Image by teddy-rised via Flickr

She was standing at the corner, looking like she wasn't sure which direction to go. Not much of her face was visible. She seemed to be deliberately hiding behind her long hair. From the color, it appeared she hadn't been to a stylist recently. There was too much gray among the dark strands. And the length also suggested that she didn't spend much time or money in a hair salon. With some coloring and care, her hair could be stunning. It was thick, long, and straight. The gray made her appear to be at least 40.

An average height, she wasn’t overweight. Given her attire, she might even have been underweight. It was cold outside, and she was dressed for it: blue jeans that appeared worn from wearing, not as a fashion statement; a denim jacket with sheepskin lining, probably a synthetic, worn over a too large plaid shirt, its shirt tail hanging well below the jacket instead of being tucked in for greater warmth. The jacket also seemed too large. Perhaps she had recently lost weight, or perhaps the jacket was not hers.

Her shoes were clean, white athletic shoes, likely evidence that she wasn't living on the street, although many of her mannerisms may have drawn observers to that conclusion, especially the way she lowered her head to keep her hair in front of her eyes as she glanced in all directions while she stood, waiting, hoping not to draw attention. She wasn't carrying a purse or bag. Perhaps she kept her cash in her pockets. That's where her hands were, either defending her fortune or for warmth.

Image by Paul Krueger via Flickr

The light turned green for pedestrians to cross, and she stepped into the street in front of my car. She glanced quickly in my direction, just long enough for me to see evidence that she probably had lost many of her teeth. The set of her mouth had the distinctive sunken appearance I recalled from Grandma after she had removed her dentures. As she turned away from me, I saw a long thread dripping from her nose, not out of place in the cold weather, although she made no effort to hide it or wipe it away.

She made her way across the street without hesitation, walking, not rushing, her body leaning forward as though the air was so thick she had to push her way through it. Then she was gone, the traffic light turned green for my direction, and I drove on. 

Day 12 - Jigsaw Lessons

Image by Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery via Flickr

Every year during the two weeks that school was out for the Christmas and New Year holiday, my family followed a tradition – we put together jigsaw puzzles.  It didn’t matter that we had put the same puzzles together the year before.  It didn’t matter if there was a missing piece or two.  We put together jigsaw puzzles on the dining room table from the day school let out at the beginning of the holiday until the day before we went back to school two weeks later.

I don’t think my parents used puzzles to teach us anything. They were just trying to keep us busy.  But the years have passed, and I now recognize that putting together jigsaw puzzles as a family taught us kids some valuable lessons.

We learned teamwork, we learned to look beyond first impressions, and we learned to think laterally.

Image by juan tan kwon via Flickr

First, we learned teamwork. Separation of duties worked better than everyone looking for the same piece. One looked for edge pieces, one looked for pieces by color, and one looked for pieces by shape. And because of the time required to put 1000 pieces together, trading off the work when the work got tough kept us all looking at the problem from a fresh viewpoint.

Second, we learned the importance of first impressions. Or more precisely, we learned not to rely only on first impressions. For example, just when we were absolutely convinced that there was a missing piece because none of the pieces looked right for a particular hole, someone would find the piece.  It fit in spite of the fact that we didn’t think it “looked” right.

Another example of how first impressions are wrong with jigsaw puzzles is that sometimes it was necessary to turn two pieces over to see if they really fit.  The pattern of the picture blurred the gaps, but looking at the same joint from the bottom provided the information we needed.

Image by Ampersand Duck via Flickr

Third, putting together jigsaw puzzles is a great example of the need to use lateral thinking occasionally.  Who would try putting a jigsaw puzzle together by starting at the top right corner and then connecting only the piece to its right?  That would be sequential thinking.  Lateral thinking starts anywhere, not just at a traditional “starting point.”

Whether my parents intended it or not, the activity of working together as a family to put together jigsaw puzzles taught me well.  Teamwork, recognizing that first impressions are not always accurate, and recognizing the value of lateral thinking have helped me succeed both at work and in my personal life.  Every complex problem can be broken down into small enough pieces to be handled like a jigsaw puzzle.  Application of teamwork, recognizing that first impressions are not always accurate, thinking laterally, along with never giving up until the puzzle is complete – these are keys to success.

Day 11 - Count to Seven, Plus or Minus Two

Image by maddsmadds via Flickr

One of my favorite reality TV shows (and it's hardly a reality, but it isn't a drama, a comedy, news, or a talk show, so I guess what is left as a descriptor is reality) is Project Runway and its spinoff, Project Runway Allstars. Sometimes I try to hide this side of me; after all, I was a serious diplomat, not a flighty fashion follower. But I have to admit, now that I live in California instead of the District of Columbia metropolitan area, I get to dress differently and wear my hair differently from what was usual in DC. And I like that.

Mark Twain is credited with saying, “Clothes make the man.  Naked people have little or no influence on society.”  Today I would like to explore the influence of the clothes we wear and suggest some reasons for that influence.  I would also like to share my secret of making sure I am properly dressed for work each day.  It is as simple as counting to seven, plus or minus two.

Image by zorkminos via Flickr

Do clothes influence us? Clearly, I believe they do. A very early memory from elementary school is the first example of that influence. I don't recall just why I was at an evening Parent Teacher Association meeting that night. Maybe it was the time my fifth grade teacher was determined that our class would finally earn distinction as having the highest percentage of parents attending the meeting. That was when she had us write a play (which she edited heavily to correct our historical inaccuracies) and then present it for all the parents at a PTA meeting. But what I remember from that meeting was the other part of the program - when the high school principal talked with the parents about not judging students on their appearance alone. To illustrate, he had the lights lowered in the auditorium just as three boys entered the room. They were dressed in black leather jackets and boots with cleats that rang out with each step. They had chains hanging from their pockets, their hair was slicked up and back, and they were wearing sunglasses. The 1950's version of Hells Angels in small town America. After a few minutes, the boys left and returned at the end of the principal's talk, this time wearing suits, white shirts, ties, and well-shined shoes. I don't know how many of the parents got the message, but I did. Clothes matter.

Image by SmithGreg via Flickr

Have you read John T. Molloy’s Dress for Success books?  Since the mid-70’s his books have reported on experiments conducted where men and women wore different styles of clothing to work and reported on how people reacted to them. Most often, the women who noticed the improvement in their colleagues' treatment of them when they wore "success" clothing stopped taking part in the experiments because they liked that treatment and didn't want to give it up.

If you need more convincing, Google the phrase “Dress for Success.”  When I did, the first 67 pages all included the full phrase, not just “dress” or “success.”

           

Why do clothes influence us?

Historically, clothing worn identified one’s occupation or status.  Some still do. Imagine the following people going about their business without their "uniforms": clergy, soldiers, doctors and nurses, doormen, chefs, or bus drivers. Uniforms, aka clothing styles, are signs of belonging and serve to help us recognize one another.  In contrast, in Romania I couldn’t tell the doctors from the patients or the street sweepers from the professors – a deliberate attempt to blur the divisions among citizen comrades.

Uniforms provide a sense of tradition.

Image by Kristi Lady via Flickr

What’s my secret to knowing I am dressed for success? I don't have a uniform, but I do have a trick to make sure I am dressed up enough - neither under- nor overdressed. And it is as simple as counting to seven, plus or minus two.  Here’s how (at least for women):

• 1 point for each different fabric of my clothes,
• 1 more point for each fabric that has a pattern,
• 1 point for shoes (I don't consider flip flops or running shoes as "shoes"),
• 1 more point for open toes,
• 1 point for stockings/hosiery,
• 1 more point if stockings/hosiery are patterned, and 
• 1 point for each accessory I don’t normally wear (which eliminates points for wedding rings and watches, unless the watch is a novelty worn only occasionally).

Try it out.  What’s your score today?

What’s the plus or minus 2 for?

• Women – It’s OK to get to 9 (plus 2)
• Men – It’s OK to get only to 5 (minus 2)

 “Clothes and manners do not make the man; but, when he is made, they greatly improve his appearance.”  Henry Ward Beech.

“Clothes don’t tell the character of the man, but they just as well talk for him as against him.”  Anonymous

“When you meet a man, you judge him by his clothes; when you leave, you judge him by his heart.”  Russian proverb.

Day 10 1/2 - Titles and Creative Commons Licenses

After 10 days of posting pieces, I realize that it is redundant to include a title at the top when I have a title at the top of each post. So beginning with Day 11, I will drop the titles within the posts.

I also realized that I haven't explained that another of my goals is to find images that I can post on the site without violating any copyrights. Flickr is a great source of images that are covered by Creative Commons licenses. There are six options for licensing under the Creative Commons concept; all permit the use of an unaltered image, provided it is attributed to the source.  The captions under images, if they are not my own, include the Flickr name for the source of each, the attribution. I have added a Creative Commons license to this blog as well. You should be able to see it in the right column of the blog now.

I wasn't so careful in selecting images for some of my warming up pieces. Google search for images brings up such a wonderful range of images that I let myself get carried away. I didn't intentionally violate any copyrights or royalties, but I didn't spend much time doing research either. I plan to go back to correct that in the next few days.

Day 10 - The Practice Date

Lauren Rousseau from MSN News

By the second year, there were three in the Russian class - Margaret, Steve, and Lauren. They had been a much larger group the year before, but most of the rest didn't make it past the first semester. Greg, a music major, dropped out after the first semester since he was only in the class to learn more about pronunciation so he could sing Russian operas. Ron, a football player, stuck it out through the full year because he didn't want to have to start over. Two semesters of a foreign language were required to graduate, and that's as many semesters as Ron was prepared to complete. Most of his football teammates had chosen Spanish or French, languages they believed were easy.

Both Steve and Lauren lived in town. Margaret was from out of town and lived in one of the dormitories. And that meant that Margaret was out of town during the holidays. That's why Lauren ended up being Steve's practice date.

Image by San Diego Shooter via Flickr

Lauren envied Margaret. She had very long blonde hair, real blonde, not the dishwater blonde of Lauren’s. Margaret’s was straight. Lauren had a couple of kinks that she thought spoiled her much shorter chin-length bob. Margaret lived in the dorm; Lauren’s roommate was her younger sister. Margaret joined a sorority. Lauren didn't even dare attend the rush parties because she feared being rejected. Margaret always seemed to have dates on the weekend. Lauren always went out on the weekends with her girlfriends.

Steve asked Lauren out a couple of times, usually during one of those holidays when Margaret was out of town. During one Christmas holiday, he asked Lauren to the Christmas party for employees of the hotel where he worked as the night bookkeeper. He introduced Lauren to blended whiskey, although both Steve and Lauren were still too young to drink legally.  While they were the same age, had graduated from high school together in fact, Lauren always felt Steve was more experienced, more worldly. She felt Steve behaved towards her more like a tutor than a date. But her dates were few and far between, and she liked Steve.

Image by OPUS Hotels via Flickr

When classes resumed after the new year, Margaret mentioned to Lauren that Steve had driven the 60 miles to her home to take her out for New Year’s Eve.  The hotel where he worked had a blow-out New Year’s Eve party where it was no problem for Steve and his date to be served liquor. Lauren didn’t ask whether Steve drove her back home or had reserved a room in addition a table at the hotel.

Then there was the time during the spring break when Steve invited Lauren to attend the weekly Saturday evening dance held at the local Armory. Lauren was surprised as well as pleased. She loved dancing, but she didn’t think Steve did. She was at least partially right. Steve wasn’t all that comfortable dancing, but he made a good effort and they both had a good time.

The next weekend, the first one after classes resumed, Lauren was out Saturday with her girlfriends, at the dance, their usual hangout. And Lauren saw Steve there again, this time with Margaret.

Lauren didn’t know how often Steve went out with Margaret. She saw them often. She never asked Steve if he considered her his practice date. She just assumed.

Day 9 - Yemen

Image by james_gordon_losangeles via Flickr

The house smells like curry. I made a variation of curried carrot and apple soup last night, to use up some leftover pumpkin (the variation), and that's where the aroma is from. I love curry and the aroma of the mixture of all those spices brings memories of Yemen flooding over me.

I spent one year - 13 months - in Yemen, one of the most exciting places I have lived.

Yemen. Living there is like living in a museum with exhibits from every century in history. In Sanaa, there are 21st century modern businesses in high rise buildings with websites catering to customers who have high speed Internet. And in the countryside, there are villages without any electricity or indoor running water where people get around on donkeys or by foot that look like they did in the 1st century. Even in Sanaa, there are glimpses of many different centuries, visible from the same spot just by turning to face a different direction.

Image by judaluz via Flickr

The best place to see the contrasts is in the Old City, a UNESCO Heritage site. If the gingerbread buildings there were to be found in the United States, they would have to be in Disneyland. But in Sanaa, people live in the buildings; they are not just curiosities for the tourists' entertainment. 

Western women, especially women in the diplomatic corps, have special status in Yemen. We are neither feared nor desired, a truly alien gender. And that means women in the diplomatic corps are invited to both women's events and men's events. It is a misperception that events in theMiddle East are limited to men only, although it is most accurate that many events are for women only. I attended both the women's and men's gatherings forweddings, for example. A western man will never been invited to join a women's event.

Image by eesti via Flickr

I never felt in danger when I went to the souk in the Old City, even when I went by myself. One evening during Ramadhan, I foolishly drove to the souk after work, just after sundown, and I found my car completely surrounded by pedestrians making their way out of doors after having broken the fast. I had a two-door Rav 4, a truly infant-sized vehicle among all the Toyota pickups and Landcruisers, but it was still too small to get through the narrow lanes without the risk of bumping into something or someone. An older man walked leisurely next to the passenger side and when he reached the level of my side mirror, he looked over at me, smiled, and pushed the hinged mirror against the body of the car to reduce its width by a few inches. So I rolled down my window and pulled the side mirror there against the car as well and then made slow progress to the end of that lane.

Most western men had a difficult time adjusting to driving patterns in Yemen. In contrast, I loved to drive there. Western men had a hard time giving up their sense of responsibility for keeping eyes open in all directions – ahead, behind, to the left, and to the right. The unpredictable traffic patterns, the non-functioning traffic lights, and the disregard for white lane markings on the road defeated any conscientious attempts to keep all the activity in mind. I chose to adapt to the local pattern which required that I only pay attention to what was in front of me. It was the other drivers’responsibility to keep track of me if they were behind me– even just a little bit behind me on either the right or the left. The first question the traffic police asked at the scene of an accident was “Who was in front?” The driver in front is never at fault.

Image by Roobee via Flickr

Most of us lived at least 20 minutes away from the Embassy, and since there were ring roads throughout the city, I could leave my compound and take off in any direction to get to work. It just took a little longer along some routes. We were advised to be unpredictable, to avoid being targeted and followed so I left the house at a different time every day and I made my decision whether to turn left or right at the intersection based on what color the first car I saw was – if it was white, I turned left; if any other color, I turned right. Along each route I picked out key intersections where I could follow that same pattern so that even I didn’t know exactly what route I would take to work. Sometimes I ran into obstructions that would have riled up others; I just put my Toyota into low gear and drove over or around.

After a few weeks of driving in Yemen I decided driving according to western patterns was boring – a little like marching through a ballroom instead of dancing. I mentioned this comparison of driving as dancing in Yemen to a friend and I later learned several of the shop owners in the souk called me the lady who danced with her car.

By the way, the soup wasn't anything to write home about. The carrots needed more cooking than the recipe called for. And adding the leftover pumpkin may have compromised the blend of flavors.

Curried Carrot and Apple Soup

Serves 4

2 tsp sunflower oil

1 tbsp mild curry powder

1 1/2 lb carrots, chopped

1 large onion, chopped

1 tart baking apple, chopped

3 1/2 cups chicken broth

Salt and black pepper

Plain low fat yogurt and carrot curls, to garnish

Heat the oil and gently fry the curry powder for 2-3 minutes.

Add the carrots, onions, and apple, stir well, then cover the pan.

Cook over very low heat for about 15 minutes, shaking the pan occasionally, until softened. Spoon the vegetable mixture into a food processor or blender, then add half the broth and process until smooth.

Return to the pan and pour in the remaining broth. Bring the soup to a boil and adjust the seasoning before serving in bowls, garnished with a swirl of yogurt and a few carrot curls.

From Low Fat Low Cholesterol Cooking, edited by Anne Sheasby

Day 8 – Customer Service

Anne Marie Murphy from MSN News

Rachel stopped by Primp, her favorite cheap-chic clothing boutique, when she saw the “Sale” sign in the window. She didn’t really need anything, but bargains are bargains and they don’t come along every day. And Anne Marie, one of the sales women, always had suggestions for items that fit both Rachel’s wardrobe and her style.

Rachel saw Anne Marie by the belts and bags and headed straight towards her. The store was crowded so Rachel was pleased that Anne Marie wasn’t already with a customer.

“Hi, Rachel,” said Anne Marie. “It has been awhile.  Have you been out of town?”

Image from carbonated on Flickr

“No,” replied Rachel. “Just busy. Allison started first grade this year so I’ve been getting involved with the Parent Teacher Association. I wasn’t quite ready for Allison to be in school all day.”

Anne Marie nodded. “Before you know it, she’ll be wanting to shop here herself.”

“Don’t even say that,” responded Rachel. “I want my little girl to remain a little girl for life.”

“OK,” said Anne Marie, “let’s concentrate on you instead.  I think we have something that will work well with that knit black dress you picked up last spring. It’s over here. And I’m sure it’s your size.”

Anne Marie led Rachel to a rack with jackets and tunics at the back of the store. The “50% Off” sign above the rack caught Rachel’s attention and appreciation as Anne Marie took a hanger with a vintage silk vest with attached belt. As usual, Anne Marie was right – the vest would look great with the black dress and she already had shoes in just the right shade to pick up the pink accent in the vest.

“Let me try it on,” said Rachel as she hung her purse over the end of the clothing rack and slipped off her jacket which Anne Marie took from her. “It’s perfect. And the price is definitely right.” Rachel had glanced at the price tag as she slipped her right arm into the vest.

It took a little effort for the two of them to squeeze past the customers in line to reach the check-out counter. When there, Rachel asked Anne Marie, “So why is Primp having a sale at this time of the year?” She kept her voice low to keep from encouraging eavesdroppers in line.

Anne Marie kept her voice equally low. “The store has a new partner who wants to bring in new lines, so we’re making room. But we’ll still have plenty for you.  In fact, let me show you some earrings that I think will work with it, too. Your hairstyle is ideal for them. Here they are,” as she picked up the earrings and handed them to Rachel.”

Image from jijis on Flickr

Rachel took the earrings from Anne Marie and handed them along with the vest to the clerk at the cash register. Just as she was about to say something to Anne Marie, a woman she had never seen in the store before who was hovering over the clerk turned to Anne Marie and said, “Let’s move the line along,” as she looked over the top of her reading glasses and motioned with her eyes at the line that had formed behind Rachel. Anne Marie backed away from the counter, nodding her head in Rachel’s direction in farewell.

Rachel was about to hand over her credit card to the cashier, but she stopped and looked at the woman.  Once she had caught her attention, she said, “I was about to hand over my credit card to pay for these items, and if I thought it wouldn’t affect Anne Marie’s commission today, I would just walk away and leave these things on the counter instead. Anne Marie is the reason I shop here. She knows me, but you apparently don’t know her.”

At least, that’s what Rachel wanted to say. Instead, she handed over her credit card, paid for the vest and earrings, walked out of Primp, her favorite cheap chic clothing boutique for the last time.