Blue jobs

This morning I was commuting to work accompanied by my father and husband, wearing white pants. I should have known at something would go wrong just because I was wearing white pants. Innocently, I accepted a travel mug of coffee. Not a chic travel mug, but a brown plastic Tim Horton's model with a giant base that will not fit any cup holder. You see where this is going...

By about kilometre three, I picked up the mug to sip my coffee elegantly and the coffee slopped out the top and all over my white pant leg. Argh! I'm heading to client meeting, but I figured, they won't care, they probably drink coffee. And the meeting was at a coffee shop too so this was all part of the scene.

The coffee was just drying into a dull brown patches when I heard a whirring noise like when you drive off the road and over the washboard pavement patch designed to wake you up. But I was awake and not veering off the road at that particular point. I looked at my dad, flat tire. S&^%!

We pulled off and my husband and father jumped into action - like they'd been waiting for something like this to happen. Out came the spare, the wrench, the bolts they moved around, read the manual, broke off a portion of the frame by lifting the car in the wrong place. I stood and phoned people, cancelled my meeting, sent e-mails and worried about the cars zooming by. Don't fall into the road Dad, I thought.

Didn't think that about my husband. He doesn't fall or stumble much. I checked.

There's a point to this story. I got to thinking, what would I have done if I were by myself? The answer was "call CAA." My only recourse was to call another man to change the tire and save the day. I realize changing a tire is a job I do not want to do or learn. Much like plumbing, electrical work and changing the seal on a toilet. These are jobs best done by men, in my view. Blue jobs.

But what does this say about Holly Dunn the feminist and 21st century wonder woman? And what hope do women have for equality and power, with people like me segmenting jobs like I do?

I like to think I'm increasing my power by focusing on the jobs I like and those I do well. I can multi-task like an eight-armed juggler. I have a mastery of the English language, and I even enjoy mowing the lawn. I have handled garbage and compost....and do so with increasing regularity.

Do I need to learn to change a tire? Maybe. But in the meantime, I share the load and leave the male species to focus on what it does best, moving heavy objects, changing occasional tires, dissembling and reassembling engines and, of course, listening to crickets....

A crisis worth having

I remember my parents going through mid-life crises and thinking it was all just talk. My father - a social worker - opened a deli and briefly became a real estate agent before returning to social work. My mother completed her bachelor's, and then master's, degree in fine arts. They drove across the continent and stopped eating meat. Nothing drastic, but lots of change. As their kid, I just thought it was mildly interesting, but mostly just something they did as distraction during the brief moments they weren't catering to my every need.

Fortunately, I'm immune to such crises. I have my life completely together and routine is my middle name. Well, I thought so...until I turned 40 myself.  The day I turned 40, my eyesight went down the tubes. I swear it was fine and I could read small print books in dim light until the last day of my 40th year, when I was still 39. Bam! I turned 40 and the letters started swimming like ants crawling on the page. But that's not all...

In my 41st year, I stopped accepting criticism from outside sources. Unless it was legitimate work related critique, I realized that my approach was always valid. I do things for a reason, and those who don't agree just don't understand my reasoning, which is always sound. I think I care less what other people think and am willing to argue for my decisions and actions, because they're based on 40+ years' of experience and "wisdom". Who knew?

Then I became an entrepreneur. I left my salaried job and decided to join my husband to build our own PR agency (www.dunnassociates.ca). Benefits be damned! They're so predictable and stable. I don't need such structure, thought I.

Then we turned to cosmetic changes. The Fall before I turned 41, I cut my hair short. Not just short, but REALLY short. "What do I have to lose," I thought. "I'm already married, it's not like I'm trolling for men....and EVERYONE has long hair....and mine isn't spectacular anyway." So now I'm 41 and shorn, and I look around and notice a LOT of other "middle aged" women are also sporting the same short and sassy look I pursued for its unique-ness. Good decision? The jury is still out on that one, but they say a change is as good as a rest.

I always wanted a dog. But this year that thought became obsession. Starting with some casual research, I quickly reserved a puppy from an upcoming litter and convinced my husband Michael that a dog was an important part of our new life. It took a full Powerpoint presentation, with video, to convert him.

And I didn't just want any dog. I needed a dog we could only get in Ontario. So we followed our new puppy online, and booked a flight. Four days later, two plane rides and six hours in the car and we had our cocker spaniel pup Gus. Now I get up every morning at 5:30 a.m. and walk continuously around the block to point of dizziness. I'm not sure who's training whom, but we have the dog, complete with bags of poop in the back yard and bags of chewed flip flops in the garbage can. Mission accomplished!

So, did I have a mid-life crisis? There was no starting point, or obvious "launch" for the crisis, but it seems it has been happening for several years. Has it been bad? Not at all. A crisis? Hardly. More like a quest for change, improvement, something new and something I've never had. And mostly, the chance to be my own boss and take the driver's seat. I would recommend this type of crisis to anyone.