When helping people hurts everyone.

Imagine this scene:

Two mothers have their toddler sons at a park.  The boys are still quite young, no more than four years old.  One of the boys, we'll call him Sam, has a shiny new toy that he recently got for his birthday.  It's obvious that he loves this toy.  He doesn't want to let it out of his sight.  Unfortunately, the other boy comes over and takes it right out of his hands.  Sam turns to his mother, distressed.  She encourages him to share the toy with the other boy, who simply doesn't treasure it like Sam does.  Within minutes the other boy has dismantled the toy and scattered the pieces, then stands eyeing Sam's backpack to see what other toys he has.  Sam is heartbroken over the destruction of his favorite toy.  Sadly, his mother only gently reminds him that it is 'just a toy' and that it's more important that he learn to share like a good boy.  The other boy once again approaches and tries to take a toy but this time Sam yanks his bag away and holds it tightly against his chest.  His mother scolds him for not sharing, somewhat embarrassed by his behavior.  But Sam knows what happened last time and won't risk it again, so when the boy tries to take another one of Sam's toys, Sam wallops him.  His mother descends on him like a hawk, yanks the backpack away from him and hands it to the other boy who immediately starts sifting through it just as carelessly as he had with the first toy.  Meanwhile, Sam is getting scolded for not sharing AND for hitting. 

Who is the bully in this situation?  Who is getting taken advantage of?

I watched a scene almost exactly like this when I was first pregnant with Jett.  I was very idealistic at that time and had thought often about how I would raise my children to be respectful, generous, caring adults.  Of course I had all the answers.  Ha.  But when I watched this scene unfold, a flicker of rage grew within me.  Sam's mother was just doing what she felt societal pressure to do in that instance.  For one thing, no one wants to be the mother of the kid who won't share and who resorts to hitting.  But even if she had seen that he was simply defending himself, it wasn't her place to address the other child's behavior even though his own mother certainly wasn't paying attention.  Regardless of all the factors out of her control, I was upset with Sam's mother for caving to outward pressure when she should have been protecting her son.  Perhaps the scene would have unfolded like this:

Sam plays with his shiny new toy with great glee.  The other boy, let's call him Tim, comes over and tries to take the coveted toy out of Sam's hands but Sam's mother stops Tim gently.  "This sure looks like a fun toy, doesn't it?  It belongs to Sam here.  He got it for his birthday.  What did you get for your birthday?"  Tim looks up at Sam's mother and says something that sounds like "truck".  She continues, "Oh, a truck?  Did you bring it?"  Meanwhile, Sam stops playing with his toy and watches the exchange. Tim shakes his head.  He didn't bring any toys with him to the park.  He again eyes Sam's toy.  Sam's mother turns to Sam and says "Sam, would you like to share your toy?".  Sam is wary and clutching his toy closely.  Then he tentatively shakes his head no.  He's not ready to give up his prized possession just yet.  "Is there one in your backpack you'd be willing to share with him?"  Sam opens up his backpack and pulls out a different toy.  It's smaller and well-used, but Tim accepts it gratefully nonetheless.  Both boys smile timidly at each other and then play side-by-side for a while, Sam with his favorite toy and Tim with his newfound borrowed toy.  They are both content for the moment.  After a while, Sam's mother pulls him aside and quietly asks him again if he would be willing to share his new toy with Tim.  Sam mulls it over carefully, turning to watch the other boy play with his other toy.  Then he spontaneously nods his approval.  "But Mom, he can't break it.  And I want it back in just a little bit."  Sam's mother smiles at his directives and tells him that it is his toy, so he gets to make the rules about how and when it is played with.  Sam runs over and hands his toy to Tim, who lights up upon receiving it.  The boys play together for a while longer and then it's time to leave.  Tim gives the toy back to Sam and sings "Thank youuu!" as he walks back to his mother.  Sam's mother thanks him for sharing his toy and tells him that it was very generous of him to do so since he wasn't required to.  Sam beams with pride.

How would society view THIS exchange?  Would this mother be viewed as a deadbeat for not making her child share?  I have thought about this for over four years since watching those boys play together that one day.  Ultimately my husband and I have decided that we will teach our children that their things belong to them.  Gifts that they receive alone belong to them alone.  We do not require them to share their own toys if they don't want to.  We encourage them to share, but if their answer is no then that is the final word.  Eventually they seem to want to share their beloved toy, but they are not chastised if they never choose to. 

This is not to be confused with 'taking turns'.  Just because we don't force them to share their own things doesn't mean they don't have to share community property or wait in line.  If they receive a gift together, they must take turns and learn to share it.  If they are playing with a toy that belongs to a friend of theirs, they are required to take care of it or they lose the privilege of playing with it, and they are only allowed to play with it with the other child's permission and blessing, NOT just the permission of the child's mother. 

There are several lessons I hope they will learn from this practice:

1.  I have ownership of certain things.  I have control over how those things are treated by others.

2.  I do not expect to have control over things that do NOT belong to me.

3.  I will take care of the things I use whether they are mine or not.

4.  I appreciate when someone shares with me but I do not expect it or demand it.

5.  My toy, my rules.

I hesitate to share this only because I know how misconstrued this could be.  People might think this is a terrible practice, that I'll raise my children to be bossy and domineering and greedy.  But I do not think it is better to teach my children that they must share no matter what, even with children who do not take care of their things, nor do I care to teach them that if something they love is taken from them and destroyed that they should just lay back and get over it.  Because if I teach my children that this is how life is, I risk inadvertently teaching them to treat other children that same way.  They might yank a toy away from another child and say "You have to give this to me.  My mommy says we have to share." or they might break another child's toy and assume there will be no consequences and that the other child will simply have to 'get over it'.  I want to treat my children the way I want them to treat others.  I think it would be vastly contradictory to try to teach them to respect another person's property in one breath but then insinuate that their own things are not worthy of respect in another breath by telling them it's 'just a toy' when someone else breaks it.  If I will ever teach my children to respect other people and their property, I must first show respect for my child and his or her property. 

This really isn't a parenting lesson.  In fact, I'm going to shift gears entirely.  A few years ago, a coworker of mine had the terrible misfortune of a house fire that destroyed the home she and her fiance were going to share after their wedding the next week.  They lost the home completely as well as all the contents, including many of the things they had prepared for their wedding, gifts they had received early, and things they had brought together from their respective homes to put in the home they would share.  It was truly a tragic event.  A fund was set up for her and many people made donations to try to help.  Those of us who worked directly with her were just heartsick for her and the things that were lost.  We saw her struggle with the loss of many emotionally valuable things that simply couldn't be replaced.  We would have done anything to undo the situation if we could have.  But ultimately the donations and sympathy and good intentions were not what saved them financially.  It was the fact that they had insurance.  In fact, the donations they received were barely a drop in the bucket compared to what they received from the insurance company, without which they would've truly lost everything.  I hope that doesn't sound cold because it is merely the reality of their situation. 

I have floundered politically for a few years.  I hesitate to share my views with others not because they're so polarizing but because  I don't have all the answers and I'm learning new things all the time.  I used to be a bit more vocal, but I have learned a lot since then and have chosen to keep things to myself for the  most part.  This is not going to be a political essay in the sense that I'll identify with any one party.  This is merely my humble opinion on a few things that I feel I have learned.  I like to think that I've become quite open-minded in the past few years and because I have not affiliated with any one party, my pride has not precluded me from changing my mind on various issues.

Political disclaimer aside, we have arrived at the whole point of this essay.  Think about Sam in the first example.  He was forced to share what was rightfully his.  Tim took what didn't belong to him and treated it with no care, thereby breaking it.  He went for the backpack, expecting yet another toy.  And Sam's mother all along ordered him to share and to not value his things over the other child's enjoyment.  We could maybe all agree that it wasn't even the other child's enjoyment she was so worried about as the societal pressure to make her child share.  Finally, when Sam tried to defend his property from being swiped again, his mother again came down on him harshly, this time for refusing to share and also for hitting.  Sam simply could not win. 

Does this sound familiar?  Many, many people can identify with Sam.  They work for the money they earn to buy the things that they want.  Imagine how hard it would be to have the authority figure in your life (in this case the government) tell you that you have to share, no matter what.  So you do it, not necessarily cheerfully or out of good will; it is only because you are required to.  Then you watch as the very thing you worked so hard for, the thing you prize, is treated with no respect.  Your handout is taken, wasted, and then you are expected to give again.  This would make any rational person lash out in helplessness and anger, just as Sam did. 

But what if you were told that your things are yours?  That you don't have to give them away if you don't want to?  That you could do it as a loan, or you could place conditions on it, or that you could even assess first if someone would treat it with respect before sharing?  Would this make you greedy and bossy and domineering?  Or might it lead you to share out of goodwill like Sam in the second example because you have control over what is shared and the terms under which it is shared?  That's a hypothetical question I truly don't claim to know the answer to.  It's certainly something I have mulled over a lot. 

For every Sam (who responds negatively to being forced to share) there is another kind of person who doesn't mind it.  They see the need, turn a blind eye to the wastefulness when it happens, and share what they have because they believe it to be good and helpful, the right thing to do, the only conscionable thing to do.  But think again to my coworker and the house fire.  We desperately wanted to help her.  It wasn't FAIR!  She was down on her luck, she didn't deserve it, and everyone rallied around them to try to help.  But it wasn't what saved them.  It couldn't be.  We didn't have the resources regardless of how terrible we felt for them.  What if the city government stepped in and ordered everyone to chip in a certain percentage of their income because of this horribly unfair thing that happened that must be rectified?  Think of the outcry.  Because that was just one house fire out of numerous fires that summer alone.  What if we had a fire tax? No one should have to bear the burden of something so unfair alone, right?  Especially when it isn't their fault.  But then people who have a fire clause in their homeowner's insurance would strike that out.  No need to pay for it if the city will just tax the citizens to come up with the money instead.  People will see no reason to bear the burden of their own fire insurance if they are going to be expected to pay a portion of the costs of every fire that happens in the city.  As fewer people have fire insurance, more people will be completely reliant on the city to continue with the fire tax.  Each citizen will come to expect this treatment.  Soon it would be so prevalent that it could never be undone.  What started as an act of humanitarianism for people down on their luck has become an expectation by the people that they will receive the same treatment in a similar circumstance.  In fact, people who voluntarily paid for their own fire insurance while continuing to pay the tax on everyone else's fires would likely be viewed as a bit of a schmuck for paying for something unnecessarily when the government is giving it for free.  The people who initially cried out against the fire tax would soon give up and just go along with it.  If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. 

In other words, if you treat the people like Sam and force them to share, you will soon have a population of Tims who expect a handout.

There are a LOT of unfair things that happen in this world.  I'm not even going to touch on the things that happen in other countries because I've read lots of horror stories but I don't have a true understanding of what worldwide humanitarian efforts would cost us.  If we stick to America alone, there are lots of ways people find themselves down on their luck.  They are laid off, injured in a car accident, robbed, scammed, starving, drowning in medical debt, or yes.. they lose everything they own in a fire.  Terrible things happen to good people every day.  I die inside when I read about starving people, homeless people, unemployed or injured or mistreated people.. so much so that my human inclination is to bury my head in the sand and try not to think about it because it's so very painful to imagine their suffering.  These are legitimate causes.  There are so very many people who desperately need help that they may or may not be able to get for themselves.  It's cynical to think that everyone in desperate situations got there only because of the decisions they have made.  But it's naive and arrogant to think that we as a nation can help all of them.  It's hard to be pragmatic in the face of a sympathetic crowd, isn't it?  Almost impossible, actually.  Because the sympathetic person can so easily villify the pragmatic person and make them out to be cold and heartless money grubbers.  I know this because that's ingrained in me.  I give food and money to people who stand with a sign asking for it.  I make donations to humanitarian causes.  I weep when I see images of terrible suffering and I would give anything to help.  But I have learned that it's impossible to rectify all of the unfairness that people of this country and world face.  It's impossible.  To acknowledge that does not make us monsters.  To deny help should not make us villains. 

There are a lot of visualizations that attempt to demonstrate how futile it is for us to try to help everyone who needs help.  It would be difficult to describe them here.  But powerful as those visualizations are at showing the futility of helping people in their need, they don't even touch on the exponential effect of human motivation.  We as humans love freebies.  We love samples.  We love incentives.  We love gifts.  We love tax refunds.  And why not?  We'd be fools not to!  Who doesn't love free money? 

Exactly.

There is no way to accurately depict how much human motivation causes humanitarian efforts to fail.  I repeat, if people are forced to share their things or money with people who are getting it for free, those people who previously knew the value of working hard for their things will see that it's a lot easier  to not work for things and get them for free.  It's human nature.  If your favorite sandwich shop had two locations and you learned that the one you don't normally go to started selling their sandwiches at a quarter of the price the other place charged because it was in a neighborhood with a lower average income, how long would you hold out before going there to get your sandwich?  And once word got around, how long before the franchise with the more expensive sandwiches has to close their doors because they've lost their customer base?  Of course at first they would try to be competitive, but it would only be possible by laying off half their staff and skimping on ingredients.  The half of their staff that remains employed is expected to work longer hours at less pay.  The ones who are laid off get in line for unemployment compensation.  Now imagine this is happening throughout the whole country.  (Not too hard to imagine, is it?)  Unemployment skyrockets and the ones still working are being overworked even while their wages are being frozen.  The government tries to step in and help all these poor unemployed people who aren't as lucky as the ones still working (tongue in cheek), but there are just so many people who need the assistance that there is a public outcry that the government help by expanding unemployment benefits.  Remember Sam's mother?  She forced Sam to share because she felt pressure to do so.  We the people have the power to apply the very same pressure to our government.  So the government does intervene and forces everyone to share whether it's fair or not.  The employed people get frustrated because they have worked hard for the very things that the unemployed are getting for free.  And since not all of them value the help received because they didn't have to work for it or earn it, some waste it and then expect more help.  The government steps in and orders more 'sharing'.  The ones who are being forced to share are growing more angry and resentful toward the ones they are helping.  But the government has essentially told them that the things they have worked for are not really theirs so they see that only a fool would continue to work in conditions where he is expected to work longer hours and cover more duties for less money when his now unemployed former coworkers are getting payment for doing nothing. 

I feel like I'm just talking in circles at this point and I'm going to assume that my point has been made as well as I'm going to make it.  But ultimately this isn't me crying out against humanitarian efforts or taxes or socialism or anything that clearly defined.  What this is to me is the general realization that just like with parenting, where you will never teach your child to respect you or anyone else by taking away their rights and belongings and making them feel powerless, the government cannot make the citizens of a country respect said government or each other without first making those citizens feel that they have certain rights that will not be violated; that they can have possessions and ownership rights; and that they can earn money and give it away only to whom they see fit if they so choose.  In scenario 1, would you rather be Sam or Tim?  Sam had his things taken away and destroyed and he was rebuked for being angry about it.  Tim got to play with toys that weren't his for free and he was not rebuked for destroying them or for expecting more.  But in scenario 2, it was Sam who had the better toy.  He didn't have to let Tim play with it at all, but once he trusted Tim to be careful with it, he allowed him the opportunity.  There's nothing wrong with Tim in either scenario.  He's not the bad guy, just opportunistic.  But try to tell Sam that.  When forcing him to share, you have pitted him against the other boy and made him defensive and aggressive.  But grant him his rights and treat him with respect, and he's a different boy altogether.  Simply put, if the government makes it preferable to be Tim, that's what many people will choose to do.  But if the government instead empowers Sam, it will show every Tim that it's profitable to work for what you want because you can't have it for free.  I know there are at least a thousand shades of gray I couldn't touch on here, but I feel that this simplistic notion is at the very heart of our economic crisis in America today.

Thank you.

They say that a hard experience will show you who your true friends are. I had no reason to doubt this a week ago when I went in for a minor surgery. The surgery itself was not a big deal. Just a same day office visit kind of surgery. A partial uvulectomy. I expected to feel just fine in a couple days tops. Much to my annoyance, it has been a long and tearful recovery. And a terribly lonely one.

Today I (under the influence of a narcotic I must add) moped to a very good friend of mine that no one in our circle seemed to care how I was doing. Bear in mind that this drug tended to make me weepy and I was overly prone to feeling sorry for myself at that point. But I was genuinely concerned at the time that I must not even be likeable to fall off everyone's radar like that. She recognized that I was dosed at the time, so she gently steered the conversation to lighter things and had me laughing in two minutes flat. This friend is easily one of the busiest people I know, yet she has checked in with me every day.

She made me realize something though. I was being terribly self-centered. I was so focused on me that I failed to realize that the people who have checked in with me haven't done so because I'M so great. They've done it because THEY are. These are people who are consistently thoughtful to everyone around them. They've made thoughtfulness a habit.

As far as the friends who didn't check in, this is not intended to make anyone feel chagrined or chastised. I assume they're just a lot like me: sometimes forgetful or too busy or preoccupied with other things.

But I want to be able to say that's the old me. Hard experiences show you who your true friends are? No. Hard experiences show you how a true friend is. And what they do. Not because of who you are, but because of who they are. So thank you to those of you who have been a friend to me. In so doing, you have been teaching me so much about how to be a better friend myself.

Grade school is tough, man.

I was up this morning very early to feed Ember. I went back to bed around 5 or so, but I couldn't fall asleep. The strangest memory had come to me. In sixth grade our art teacher had assigned us a project to draw 20 different faces for 20 different emotions. He wanted us to focus on how emotions change our eyes and mouths, etc. We moaned and groaned about our horrible plight, so he told us about a girl over at a different school who had, of her own volition, done 412 drawings! I turned to the guy next to me, Cody, and I bragged that I could easily break that record. (WHYYYY) He had $5 that said I couldn't. Game on. Worst weekend of my life ensued. But somehow, I think with Scott's help, I cranked out 413 different emotions. I had run out of emotions of course, so I was using descriptors like "Just got poked by a cactus" and "Got burned by a hot seatbelt" toward the end. If you're wondering, both of those instances result in the exact same facial expression. Anyway, I got my kudos and $5 from Cody. I also permanently solidified my existence as being that of a total nerd.

So after that odd memory came to me, it was a total onslaught. I couldn't fall asleep for the life of me. There were so many grade school memories that flooded my mind. I wanted to document them just so I could fall back asleep, but a part of me was afraid to. I realized that even as I tried to flesh them out with more detail, they crumbled right before my eyes as though they were made out of spun sugar. How ironic that I would need to avoid writing about them in order to preserve them in my mind. There are, however, a few very vivid memories that I'd like to share. Maybe some life lessons tucked in there somewhere too.

No names have been changed to protect any innocents. You're all going down with me.

I remember walking back from gym class with Chris. I think we were in second grade. I liked Chris a lot but we hadn't talked much. When we did I always thought he was really funny. He had a dry sense of humor, that one. So as we were walking back from gym, I remember trying to make him laugh. I couldn't tell you what point I was trying to make, but I made a reference to a "fat, bald, cross-eyed, pigeon-toed guy." and I laughed uproariously. To my dismay, he wasn't even smiling. He looked at me very seriously and said, "I'm cross-eyed." I died a thousand deaths in that moment. I had had no idea and I certainly never wanted to make fun of him. I'm pretty sure I blew past his comment and acted like it was no big deal, but the rest of the walk back was pretty quiet.

Life lessons learned: don't make fun of people. Period. Present or not, imaginary or not. It's ugly. Second, apologize even when it's awkward. If you don't, you just might regret it 25 years later.

Same school year. I was never the girl who got love letters from the boys. I knew this was because I was hideous, of course. Even in second grade I had a sense of unease about being the center of attention. When people ask now how school was for me, my response is often a very long pause and then the admission that I very much felt like a sore thumb in school. And it started early. It was already in full swing by the time this particular day rolled around. I got my first love letter from Matt Nitschke. Now I was one of the tallest girls in my class. This was horrible and caused me to curse my very existence, you see. Matt had the opposite problem as one of the shortest boys. A few of the other kids noticed that he gave me a note and I was humiliated. I felt it drew attention to me being so tall and I was afraid people would make fun of me. I put it in my bag as discreetly as possible and decided to wait until I got home to read it. Don't get me wrong, I was flying high to have gotten a love note! But I didn't like being teased about it. I brought it home and ran to my room and spread it out on the floor. There were lots of pages. I don't remember one thing he had written, although I'm sure it was very poetic and sweet. Our neighbor lady was over chatting with my mom in the kitchen, and as I walked out I realized that my mom was telling her that I had gotten a love note. I had no idea how she knew but I was mortified that she was telling Adele! Adele would tease me ruthlessly for something like that! My ears burned and I held it against Matt that I was so embarrassed about all this. He gave me notes for several days but I never let on that I liked receiving them. Kids in our class picked up on this and teased both of us. Lots of tales of us sitting in a tree or some such nonsense. By Friday, I had had it. Matt brought over another note and handed it to me as a bunch of us were standing in the back of the room. I took it from him, turned up my nose, and dropped it in the garbage. To my dismay and horror, it hit the bottom of the empty four foot tall garbage can and went CLANK. It.... clanked. He had given me something. I wanted to dive in there and fetch it out and give it back to him if nothing else. The look he gave me was one I'll ever forget. It was the single most cruel, heartless thing I had ever done. Matt looked at the garbage can longingly, but he had too much pride to tip it over and try to retrieve the note. I desperately wanted to apologize and felt like crying, but I couldn't get over my own pride either. It was the last note I ever got from him, or anyone, not surprisingly. I have been haunted by that incident ever since. I bet it's at least once a month on average that I think of Matt and wonder if he remembers what I did. I'd love to just tell him sorry.

Life lesson learned: don't ever let your pride supercede your desire to make something right.

Just a few random memories: I remember stealing chalk and an eraser from Mrs. Hutton in first grade. We had a chalkboard at home that I loved playing with, but we didn't have any chalk. I could have asked Mom and Dad for some I suppose, but it seemed much easier just to take some from the classroom. It was early in the morning and the teacher was in the back of the class greeting kids. I had come in and put my bag down and then I casually stood at the front of the classroom and inched backwards toward the chalkboard (if one can do such a thing casually). Once my back hit the chalkboard, I felt around until I found a piece of chalk and an eraser, then I held them behind my back and ran back to my desk. Life lesson learned: be more inconspicuous when stealing stuff. Hah. I felt tremendously guilty, actually. I brought it back the next day. I'm sure Mrs. Hutton knew what I had done.

I remember the first day of first grade. Mrs. Hutton had handed out a piece of paper and we were supposed to do something with it.. I don't remember what offhand. But as soon as I got mine, I promptly sneezed all over it. The page was literally soaked. We were supposed to raise our hand when we were done with it, so she was surprised that I had raised my hand so quickly. When she realized that it was because mine was covered with snot rather than answers, she made a face and recoiled a bit. She went and got me a new one and then folded mine up snot-side-in and threw it away. Life lesson? Nah. It was as unemotional as a business transaction.

Kindergarten. I literally remember nothing about kindergarten other than Tony Barnes standing at the front of the room with a glorious flat-top haircut, holding the flag as we all recited the Pledge of Allegiance. I had never been so in love in all of my five years.

Third grade. Cody Champagne broke my heart. He chased me around the playground for a couple of days and I dutifully played hard-to-get (i.e. I asked Brooke to punch him in the nose and she cheerfully obliged). Then one day I got to school and he called me a fat cow in the hallway! I was crushed! After that he was always the one who "got away".

Last day of fifth grade. I was horribly sick. I think I had strep throat, because I had to take these awful antibiotics that tasted like banana dirt. I wanted to go to school so badly because it was Awards Day and I hated to miss it! I was devastated. Fast forward a year to the last day of sixth grade. I was at the top of my game. I was going to be called up to get an award at least six times, so I felt like a big deal. My older sister Kristi had even come to watch and she had brought some of her friends. I literally could not have felt cooler. ...until she tripped me one of the times I walked up to get my award. I was mad at her all summer.

Sixth grade. Allison Suko was SO lucky. She had her birthday the day before Veteran's Day, so no matter what, she could always have a sleep over because we never had school the next day. She did it lots of times, but sixth grade was particularly rowdy. We played Truth or Dare, and someone dared her to lick the toilet seat. I could not believe it.. she did it! But she insists that she had just cleaned it prior to everyone coming over. Doubt it.

Mortifying moment of fifth grade: we had to read aloud in class and I pronounced orangutan "orinJOOtin". The class busted out laughing. I was so embarrassed. I was surprised they all knew what it was! I had never heard of such a thing.

Sixth grade was the year I decided I was a runner. Hah. At the beginning of the year we had to do our fitness tests, and I think I ran the 600 in 3:26. In case you're wondering, that is HORRIBLE. That whole year I became determined to get good at running. By the end of the year when we retested, I ran the 600 in 1:57. Tied Cody, mind you. I think Steph Pederson beat us by just a couple seconds but I could live with that. I felt pretty awesome.

Speaking of Steph, she and Nicky McCann and I were in a dance trio for gym class. We had to come up with a dance and perform it in front of several classes. Basically my worst nightmare. Steph choreographed the whole thing. I think we took second place! I'm pretty sure Sarah Bergman's team won first. She was the queen of dance. I think I could still do the first part of that dance... but not for any less than a million dollars.

I'm getting snapped back to reality here. Ember is just waking up from her nap. Pardon the complete lack of structure. Call this an exercise in free-writing. Mrs. Moser would be so proud.

Small Change for 2011

2011. I can already tell that I hate saying it. "Twenty-Eleven". Really? Five whole syllables to state the date? As if everyone isn't already aware of what year it is anyway. I miss 2010 already. 2012 won't be so bad, but then it's downhill from there through 2017.. and then 2027 will be especially brutal. It'll take so much time to state the date that we won't get anything done!

My first new year's resolution is to drop the preceding "twenty" when I state the date. From now on, it's just "Eleven".

My second new year's resolution is to buy more soapboxes, as I seem to be running out. Or perhaps my older sister just keeps confiscating them. She seems to think she can submit my app to Hoarders because I have so many.

What is it about a new year that gets people so excited? I don't ask that question as though I don't get excited myself; just curious about the reasoning behind it. I conducted a scientific sampling of facebook posts this morning, and it seemed that nearly every single person who commented on the new year seemed to think it would be 'happy'. I decided to investigate further.

Turns out that people like new, fresh beginnings. We revel in the notion that our past insufficiencies, short-comings, indiscretions, vices, and failures can be a thing of the past. Forgotten. Undone, forgiven, overcome.

Every new year rings in the possibility that we will finally be the person we WANT to be, no longer just the person we are.

This post can take one of two directions. I think I'm veering a little toward the cynical route. Put down the credit card- don't pay up front for a year-long gym membership just yet! Think carefully about what you are doing. Statistics prove, prove that you've, statistically, got a very small chance of actually carrying out your New Year's resolutions. Ask people who regularly go to a gym when they can finally breathe a sigh of relief that the noobs aren't coming to the gym anymore. They'll tell you late February, early March. Most people eventually lose steam. Do you even remember your resolution from last year? It's a difficult task to keep that resolution or those resolutions at the forefront of your mind for a whole year.

I have a little book called "Small Change" that I pick up every now and then. Anyone who has read my blogs in their entirety knows by now that I am (and recognize that I am) all-or-nothing. If I set out to do something, one failure can completely derail me for good. New Year's resolutions for me are more of a temporary recognition of what I'm doing wrong and what needs to change, than an effective way of actually making me change. I make jokes about my resolutions, even make light of resolutions in general, but that's because my true list of resolutions is so cliched that I don't like to share it. And, by saying that, I've essentially shared what they are. Eat right, exercise more, blah blah..

Here's the basic root problem with having a list of resolutions: they're a list.

This book, "Small Change", is all about training a person to get used to the concept of change, making changing a state of being. Here's the basic premise of the book: feel free to make a list of things you want to change about yourself. As long a list as you want. But only commit to changing one thing at a time. It takes an average of 21 times to make something a habit. If you want to create a new daily habit, you, in theory, would have it down in 21 days. However, if you want to exercise 3 times a week, it will take you seven weeks to solidify that habit. If you want to quit drinking a pop when you eat out, you'll have to commit to getting that water the next 21 times you go out. You get it.

So how does this work? Rank the items on your list in order of importance to you. Then, and this is the most difficult part for me, do them ONE AT A TIME. Some of them might come in conjunction with the first one you work on, but the key is to not focus on the others just yet. If you try to do all of them at once, you WILL fail. It is extremely tempting to try to do more than one at a time, but just remember that the best approach is one at a time.

Once you have established one habit, start on the next one while maintaining the first. It won't feel that difficult, though, because the first one will already be a habit. Once you feel that the second one has become a habit, begin working on the third. There. You have begun a lifestyle in which change is a constant. Exciting, isn't it? And much easier to maintain than starting off the year with 12 resolutions and forgetting all of them.

One other downfall I have is that my resolutions are usually specific, yes, but also quite daunting. For example: "Quit sugar". Well. It's more specific than, say, "Eat better", but it's probably not doable from the get-go. So here's my second piece of advice: when making your list of resolutions, make graduated steps for as many of them as you can. Let's use exercising for an example. Your goal may be to get to the point that you exercise 6-7 days a week for an hour, but if you expect to start out that way, you're doomed to angry muscles and epsom salt soaks and failure. So apply the rule of habitual change. Step one: walk for at least 30 minutes twice a week. According to the rule of 21, you would have to do this for at least ten weeks before you can consider it a true habit, but if you feel like walking a third time in the week starting at around week 3, there's no reason that you can't. The important thing is that you have to stick with your original goal, walking twice a week, until it isn't something you really have to remember to do because it's a habit. Then at that time you can re-evaluate. Maybe during the time that you established the walking habit, you found that you were able to go four times a week easily, but now you would really like to spend more of that time jogging. Maybe you want to jog instead of walk at least one day a week. These are just examples, I'm not saying this is the actual approach you should take. But I think you get my point: make sure that if you have resolutions that are not doable in one step, you have them broken down into mini-goals that are within reach. This eliminates the frustration and feeling of failure that comes with not accomplishing something on the first try.

One other point to remember: the rule of 21 is just a guideline. The true way to tell if something is a habit is when you do it without thinking because it's just part of your routine. If you are still struggling with one of your changes and finding that you're forgetting to do it as often as you originally intended, now is not the time to move on to the next step. Stick with your original doable goal until you feel satisfied that you have changed.

Finally, a warning. It takes around 21 times to establish a good habit, but only an average of 3 times to establish a bad one. If you miss three workouts in a row, for example, you have lost the momentum you started out with and you're going to have to really struggle to find it again. You go on vacation and eat horribly for 5 days in a row, it might take a full 21 days before you feel as though you have control over your diet again.

Keep this all in mind, and you WILL cross everything off your list! Good luck to each and every one of you! I wish you the best for 2011. Err.. for '11, I mean.

*Guess I should add that "Small Change" is written by Larry and Susan Terkel. Thanks, Wendy.

Rumble strips.

Scritch, scritch, scritchscritchscritchscritch. The flimsy little pretend credit card I found in my purse is doing little to put a dent in the frost on the window. I had lucked out. When we drew names for who sat where, I got my first pick: way in the back on the right side by the window. It was my favorite spot in the whole big van; a safely enclosed little corner of my world, where I was content to stare out the window and daydream, speculate, ponder. Things flew into my mind with seemingly no trigger whatsoever. What did they do with all that water while they tried to build a dam? Who first figured that broccoli was actually a food and not just a fuzzy cactus?

I press my fist against the window and let the frost melt, warmth sapped from my clenched hand. I can see out the window for just a moment, just a glimpse of sparkling snow in the fading late afternoon haze, and then frost rapidly reforms in a new pattern, this one more like crystals. Why does frost form again? Weird that they haven't invented windows that wouldn't frost.

The heat didn't always reach the back of the van very well. It was a huge van. I could stand up in it without hunching my shoulders at all. I had a big red crate at my feet with stacks of books, mostly Archie comics, but a couple of Incognito Mosquito books that I had checked out from the library too. I don't feel like reading right now. I'm content to let my mind wander.

Up at the front of the van, Mom says something to tease Dad. I don't hear it over the loud vents, but I know Mom must have said something sassy because Dad pokes at Mom's ribs in return as she laughs and swats his hand away. I smile and look back out the window. I realize how lucky I am to have parents so happy and content in their marriage. I start to make a mental list of all the qualities that are required in my future mate.

BDDDRRD. BDDRRRDD.

"What WAS that?" I holler from my spot in the back. With two rows of captain seats in front of me, I can't see the road at all. I feel a growing sense of alarm as the van comes to a stop. Dad lifts up his head in his signature way that he does when he wants us to hear what he's saying without having to take his eyes off the road. I'm leaning way forward, straining to hear. Dad glances to his left, and the van slowly makes a right turn as he turns the heat down so we can hear. "Just rumble strips!" he says, and then turns the defroster back on to max. We can hardly turn it off for a second before the windows are too frosty to see through again, even up front.

I sit back in my chair, satisfied only that there isn't something wrong with the van. Rumble strips. I don't know what they are. It bugs me that I can't figure it out. I try to go back to thinking about the perfect mate, but my mind is stuck on rumble strips. We're almost to the little town where Dad sometimes pulls over to get us each a can of pop from the vending machine. Not very often though. I plan to ask what rumble strips are when we get there. I resume staring out into the now complete darkness.

Many long minutes later, the van slows again as we start to make the familiar left turn. I can't remember the name of the town, and that bugs me too. I know it starts with a C, but it isn't Cooperstown and that's the only C town stuck in my mind.

"Dad! What's this town again?"

He turns the fan all the way down. "Courtnay."

"Oh yeah."

Dad lifts his head up again, kinda like the way he does when he's about to say something loud so we can hear, but this time he sorta turns his head to the right a little so it seems like he's just trying to make sure I'm done talking before he turns the fan back up. So I ask, "So... what are rumble strips exactly?".

Dad laughs a little. Just a small laugh. He was chewing on something. Probably sunseeds. I can see that spot near his temple that moves when he chews. After a few seconds he swallows and then explains, "Rumble strips tell a car that a stop sign is coming up so you can slow down. They kind of stand up a little bit from the road."

He looks up at the rear view mirror again, kind of like he's looking to make sure I understand what he's saying. A chill seeps in without the heat on full blast, so I simply say "Oh." I sit back in my chair, and after a few seconds, Dad turns the heat back up to high and resumes looking straight out the front window. Mom says something to him and he glances at her and then furrows his brow a little like he's thinking and then shakes his head. Then he looks back out at the road. I guess it's popcorn he's eating. I watch as he tosses another small handful into his mouth, and then his temple starts to move in and out while he chews.

I look at my older sister Kristi. She's reading a book. Her reading lamp is on, and that's what's casting the yellow glow throughout the whole van so that I can see. I like it when someone else reads. I like to sit in the dark, but I like having a little warm glow elsewhere in the van. Kristi seems to get what rumble strips are, which doesn't surprise me. She always seems to understand what the grown ups are talking about. Plus when I search her face, I don't find any of the same confusion I feel. Her brow is furrowed only because of the shadows being cast on the page every time we hit a bump.

I look at Scott and Brooke and Marcy. They don't seem to care what rumble strips are. I guess I'm the only one. I stare back out the window. Using the tip of my finger, I put five little dots over the top of my fistprint from earlier. It looks exactly like a baby's foot. I use my other fist to "walk" little baby footprints up the window. It looks real.

I wonder if they can somehow sense that a car is there and it triggers something to reach up and scrape the bottom of the van. I know the bottom of the van got scraped, of that I am sure. I felt it. I suppose it could work.. a car hits a little line on the road and then up pops a rumble strip to scrape the bottom of the car and let you know that a stop sign is coming up. Sort of like Pop Goes the Weasel. But that doesn't quite feel right. Roads aren't mechanical. That would be really expensive to make, wouldn't it? If they could make something like that, surely they could fix all the bumps in the road, no problem. And what if a motorcycle went over a rumble strip? That could be dangerous to shoot one up at the bottom of a motorcycle. They don't mess around with motorcycles. My uncle Craig was in a bad motorcycle accident, not because of rumble strips I don't think, but he was in a coma for a long time. But when he woke up out of his coma, he knew it was Sunday. My future mate will NEVER ride a motorcycle. Ever.

But if Dad said that's what rumble strips do, then I guess that's what they do.

I just can't quite figure it out.

Vanity plates. Ughh.

Wow, over two months since my last post. I've been a lazy pile! Well, I don't think it's that so much as I just have nothing interesting to share, and today is no exception.

Have you ever noticed that every single VW Beetle has vanity plates that have something to do with the car itself? You've seen them. "SLUGBUG", "MY BUG", "BUGGIE", "LIMABUG", "BETLJUS", "IBBUGN"..
I swear that the VW Beetle is the only car whose collective owners are under the false impression that they must have a vanity plate as a condition of owning that particular car. Amirite??!?

And honestly, it's really just a glorified form of snobbery. You've seen the Bugs that don't have vanity plates. They slink around town all sheepish, knowing that their vanity-plate-donned peers are looking down on them in disdain, that normally obnoxiously cheerful front fender twisted into a pompous sneer..

I gotta quit watching Cars.

Growing up I used to daydream of the best vanity plates. I had settled on buying a monster truck and putting FRAGILE on the plates. Now I'm just annoyed by vanity plates. Not that I care if people have special plates, I'm just annoyed by the ones I can't figure out. It eats at me, because I don't have the luxury of popping on over to the neighbor car on interstate to chat them up about what their stupid license plate means! But you gotta love the snobbish sort that purposely get an obscure message put on their plates, but then get irritated when they are repeatedly asked, even by strangers, what it means. You asked for it, buddy! That's what you get for putting something stupid like "MIYY4U" on your plates, you dolt! (Am I too wise for you) I call that karma: you demonstrate your intellectual superiority by coming up with some plate that's so clever that these dunces you have nothing but contempt for flock to you to ask what it means. muhaha. BAHAHAA. Keep spending 14 hours a week trying to come up with a genius license plate, you wise aleck!

Not sure where all that pent-up angst came from. Yikes.

The new posts are old posts.

The three posts below are actually old ones I wrote long ago and posted on Facebook. I just wanted to keep all my musings together in one page. Off to eat some more spaghetti.

Mishmash Hodge-Podge of Flim Flam

It is never okay to sport a mullet, unless you are a two-year-old with unfortunate hair and/or my niece Sophie.


I strongly believe that roughly 69.732% of all health problems and chronic diseases would be eradicated if people faithfully took enough magnesium, essential fatty acids, B vitamins, and probiotics.


Earlier I could not think of the word for someone who constantly believes they are sick; I just knew it started with an M. Turns out the word is hypochondriac.


Thousands of potentially curable cases of mercury poisoning are misdiagnosed as Alzheimer’s in this country every year. I recently learned that of a sampling of random fresh- and salt-water fish, 100% contained some level of mercury. How ironic is it that fish has always been touted as brain food?


I am a supremely indignant driver. If I learn that you text while driving, I will give you a stern and overly sanctimonious lecture.


Being in a car is sort of like being online. Other drivers become one-dimensional, and you behave in ways that you never would normally if you met these people outside the confines of your vehicle. I have raucously honked at people for cutting me off in traffic, but if the same thing happens in the toothpaste aisle at Target, I graciously smile and offer a pleasant “Oops, I’m sorry, am I in your way?”


I have plenty of will power. It’s won’t power that I need more of.


At work if I wash my hands and only quickly dry them so they are still slightly damp, it is that point at which I will run into my boss’s boss and he will greet me and extend his hand. There is no discreet way to finish drying my hands, but there is also no appropriate way to work into the conversation that my palms are really not sweating profusely either.


One of the bathrooms at work has a toilet with such low water pressure that you invariably have to flush twice. I hate using this bathroom. I just know that whoever is waiting outside the door is broadcasting to the rest of my coworkers that I’m a Repeat Flusher.


When my boss uses the number keypad on her keyboard, it looks like a tarantula trying to do DDR in slow motion. It makes me decidedly uncomfortable.


If I was stranded on a desert island and a genie granted me three items, I would choose the following:
• Google. Is there anything more annoying than trying to think of something and being unable to look it up? How am I supposed to build a shelter and find food when I’m preoccupied with trying to remember where the 'i' goes in the word palliative?
• My iPod. Nothing drives me crazy faster than an annoying song stuck in my head, and it's not going away if I don't have something else to listen to!
• Floss, because let’s face it- there is no good substitute for floss. And I had popcorn and peanuts during the in-flight movie shortly before the plane crashed.


I missed a connecting flight by one minute in the Houston airport. They had just shut the door when I came screaming up to the gate. Of course it was the last flight of the day and I had to spend the night in a hotel. I always pride myself on flying light, so I only had my wallet, which contained my Visa, ID, iPod, chapstick, eye drops, and about $7.. almost enough for a pop at the hotel where I stayed. I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed myself at that hotel. I was roughing it, and surviving to boot. That's when I knew I would have made a good boy scout.


There are certain words that just sound outlandish after being rapidly repeated ten times. Included in this list: ‘each’, ‘discuss’, and the name Lois.


Try to tell me that you haven’t ever once struggled to spell the word ‘of’.


Every time I go to the grocery store, I push my full, squeaking cart all the way down an aisle, fighting to keep it from perpetually veering to the right, when I come upon a Label Reader. Although her cart is parked on the right side of the aisle and she is standing equidistant from her cart and the shelves opposite, she thinks that shifting her weight from one leg to the other will leave me enough room to pass. I usually hover passive-aggressively for a good ten seconds, then I push my cart forward just slightly, hoping a loud squeak from one of my wheels will get her to look up. She somehow fails to notice that I have not passed by yet, and I end up having to do a five-point turn to get my cart turned around. All I want is a quick glance, a muttered apology, and wide enough berth to pass. ARGH.


I was the perfect parent until I had a kid.


People who like country music hate rap music, and people who like rap music hate country music. People who like anything else hate both country and rap.


Why is it so hard to write a thank you? If someone came up to me and said “Hey, I’ll give you $5 if you write a thank-you,” I would jump at the chance. The gifts I have received in my life have been worth far more than $5, and yet I struggle. Once I start writing it, I find that it comes easily, and I certainly don’t have trouble addressing and stamping the envelope.. so why is it so hard to start??


I love the smell of a wet garage. It’s hard to explain. I also love the smell of a car wash. Other smells I love: bleach, burning ditches, and, unknowably, the smell of a certain brand of cigarettes. I don’t know which brand, but I know it when I smell it.


I used to have a fascination with straws. I’m not exactly sure why, but I think I equated a straw with being out to eat or something. One time at Valley Fair I saw a straw laying on a table, and I grabbed it. I was probably ten years old. For whatever reason, I inhaled to clear the straw rather than blowing out. I tasted what I knew could only be beer. I got a little nauseous on a couple of the rides, which made me realize I was drunk, and I was so scared that my mom and dad would get mad at me. Needless to say, my interest in straws subsequently waned.


A wise philosopher once asked, “How can someone’s favorite Starburst flavor NOT be pink?” And while I think this is a legitimate question, I think it’s important to note that some of the time my favorite flavor is orange.


Starting a sentence with “I’m going to be honest with you” not only has the opposite effect you are intending, it also makes you sound like a corporate blowhard.


We used to tease Dad for being a slow driver. He was actually just a very cautious driver respectful of posted limits, which, now that I have a child of my own, I appreciate. I sure didn’t back then. We would crab loudly that we were the only vehicle on the highway that had bugs splattered all over the back.


If you ask my brother Scott for a limerick, this is the one he’ll give:
There once was a man from Calcutta
Who had a most horrible stutta.
He said, “Pass the h-ham,
And the j-j-j-jam,
And the b-b-b-b-b-b-buttah.”


My favorite thing to do in the whole world is put a puzzle together while drinking coffee with a multitude of cream and sugar and listen to a book on tape narrated by Michael Beck. Marcy and I did this all the time in high school.
**UPDATE** Marcy did not always do this. She also played Snood.
**MORE IMPORTANT UPDATE** I agonized over whether to use the word listen or listening. I still don't know which would be right. It's an awkwardly worded sentence. Forget you saw it.


At the risk of some pretty serious eye-rolling, I have to admit that the funniest people I know are my four siblings. When we all get together, at least one, if not all, of us will laugh until we squeal and cry uncontrollably. It scares small children, and even Scott a little.


If you want to see me vomit, all you have to do is brush your teeth in front of me and let the foam drip down your chin. When it has warmed to the temperature of your skin, suck it back in your mouth and swish it around. *SHUDDER* Scott has effectively scarred me for life.

I read in a magazine once that if you don't have chapstick and you are getting windburned lips while skiing, you just have to swipe the outside of your nose and rub it on your lips. Ready-made lip balm. Of course I made the mistake of telling this to everyone in front of my rotten, no-good brother-in-law Travis, and he has never let me forget it.


If you provoke my mom, she will affectionately say to you: "Oh, you're so dumb and ugly." My husband's eyes were the size of saucers the first time she said this to him.


If I am obeying the speed limit and you crowd me from behind, I will drive so impossibly slow that you will be convinced I am breaking all laws of physics. I have to go that slow; I'm so busy delivering a look that will turn you into a pillar of salt that I'm not watching the road.


Mom told me once that when they were growing up, Grandma Aggie told them that hitting each other causes cancer, so they never did it. I think that's a bit harsh. I'm going to tell my kids it causes acne. Then if that doesn't work, I'll graduate to cancer.


I can't help but grit my teeth every time someone says "I could care less," when they really mean to say they could NOT care less.

Basic Life Truths I learned from Archie and the Gang

Girls all look identical except for their hair color. All they have to do to fool people into believing they are someone else is wear a wig. Every girl keeps several wigs on hand for this purpose.

Wealthy people are self-centered and patronizing and very easily stressed out.

Smart people wear glasses; athletic people are dumb.

Girls will allow any guy to kiss them, even if they have a boyfriend. A sound thumping of the offending male will restore order to the relationship. These situations never cause the boyfriend to question his girlfriend’s devotion.

Everyone “plays the field” until you agree to “go steady”. There is nothing wrong with dating two different girls in the same weekend, or even on the same date.

Periods do not exist! Only exclamation points! (With the exception of the occasional question mark or two largely displayed over someone’s head when they are confused!)

The majority of teens have no siblings. If they do, they come home to visit once every sixteen years.

Dogs and cats hate each other. Dogs particularly hate mailmen.

Elaborate plans and well-laid schemes never backfire, unless perpetrated by the bad guy, in which case they always do.

Teachers are all old and crotchety.

Even though they are always broke, teenagers don’t work except to do odd jobs when they desperately need money.

Being broke causes pockets to turn inside out.

Girls can wear impossibly short skirts and no one will bat an eye.

Poor girls who don’t even own a car make pretty decent mechanics.

The person you fall for in first grade is the person you will love your whole life.

Garbage cans make excellent hiding places.

Everyone walks to school.

Nobody drinks or does drugs. Nobody goes to church. Everybody who's anybody goes to the dance.

In the summer, there is nothing wrong with wearing a bathing suit everywhere you go.

If you go out walking alone, you will inevitably run into all of your friends.

Everyone owns a metal detector. When using it at the beach, you will always find something valuable to sell. However, if you instead decide to track down the rightful owner, you will most certainly meet a beautiful woman and she will shower you with kisses.

The best looking girls will make a boy spontaneously shout "va-va-voom!".

The most romantic dates involve you and your sweetheart sharing one soda with two straws.

Scrawny, pale guys with bad hair have no problems getting dates, but sweet, pretty girls who can cook, clean, sew, play every sport, and look good in a bikini will probably be home alone every Saturday night.

Disgusting words that are... disgusting.

I posted this long ago on Facebook, but thought I would bring it and a few other posts over.

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm obsessively opposed to bad grammar. So here you go- a list of words/pronunciations that I wish were banned from everyday use:

Ginormous: ARGH. Do people who use this word actually like it? I imagine they are filled with self-loathing every time they say it.

Anyways: Fluff. Filler. Annoying.

Guesstimate: Is it that hard to simply say estimate? I hate it enough when two words are combined in cutesy wordplay; all the worse when that word becomes a permanent fixture in the English language.

Orientate: Next we'll be organizating and calculatizing and documentating.

Heighth: Why the tagalong 'h'? It's pronounced 'hite', even when lumped in with width, breadth and length.

Acrossed: It's "across"! You go across the road, not acrossed it!

Athalete: Sloppy.

Excetera: It's spelled with a 't', not an 'x'. See also 'expresso'.

Fermiliar: When people see the word 'familiar', do they not realize that there's no 'r' there??

Irregardless: Apparently 'regardless' doesn't sound important enough.

Libary: This one drives me crazy. It's only cute when a 3-year-old says it. I want to crawl out of my skin when an adult says it.

Methodology: Am I just lazy, or does it seem easier to say 'method'?

Nother: As in "That's a whole nother issue". It's an awkward phrase to be avoided at all times.

Overexaggerate: This is the mother of all redundancies. The 'over' is implied in the word exaggerate. How big does an exaggeration have to be before it is more than just an exaggeration and falls into the realm of overexaggeration?

Realator: I have a thing about extra syllables.

Seen: As in "I seen them out in the field." Cringe!

Dab or smidgen: Nothing grammatically wrong with these words, I just hate them. They conjure up images of someone pinching her fingers together and making a squirrel face.

Supposably: Disgusting!

Random: I don't mind the word in and of itself, but I hate it when it is used as a synonym for funny.

Utilize: Just plain obnoxious, Corporate America.

Paradigm: It's a squishy term so grossly overused that no one really knows what it means anymore.

Verbage: Pretentious AND misspelled!


Finally, contenders for the most repulsive word in the English language:

Chortle: Ugh. Who came up with this word? Chuckle and snicker are right on chortle's heels. Laughing is such a great sound, so why describe it with words that make it sound like a horrid bodily function?

Fecund: Blechh.

Gravitas: Pompous and horribly awkward to say aloud.

Kismet: The use of this word is just a poorly veiled request to be kicked in the money-maker.

Moist: *shudder*

Nugget: I can't even bring myself to say it when I'm ordering at McDonald's. It's a good thing they don't have a 6-piece anything else.

Ubiquitous: How can a word that means "existing or being everywhere" be so scarcely used? Because people tend to avoid saying words that they can't pronounce without gleeking.

Beverage: Particularly obscene when preceded with 'tasty'.

Brunch: Right after tennis at the club with the other WAGs.

Smear: Admit it. You just shuddered when you read it.

Yummy. Yucky. Pew. Curds. Squirm. Corpuscle. Snog. Sandwich. Cheesy.

Any I've forgotten?

Inner views

If someone walked up to me on the street and offered me $200 to write a cover letter, they'd get a straight up "NOPE" followed by a hasty "Good day." but I'd only add that part because that's just polite. Is there anything worse than writing one of those things? Unless you just said "having someone toss a bit of moldy cheese in your mouth every time you sneeze", the answer is no; there is nothing worse than writing one of those things.

I'm from the upper midwest, where people are highly sensitive to bragging. Modesty is not just a trait, it's mandatory for citizenship. In fact, my cousin used to finish up every sentence with "no bragging" for fear of being perceived as too full of herself. "I think this skirt is a little too long, no bragging."

Actually, that was Heather who did that. I want to say she was just being a dolt. But I'm not sure.. we ARE extremely sensitive to bragging up in these parts.

This makes resumes and cover letters and job interviews very tricky.

We can't just be straightforward about what we're good at. We might be an expert in our field, but if a potential employer gets wind that we're bragging about it (i.e. putting it on our resume), there's a chance that the bragging and the expertise will wash, and then we have nothing to show for ourselves. The humility of which might actually make us an attractive candidate. See? Very tricky indeed.

So, me? I just shoot for middle of the road. Here's a sneak peek at my noteworthy skills/abilities:

-highly mediocre in demonstrating leadership
-Occasionally called upon to resolve medium to averagely hard problems
-detail-oriented, but I make mistakes too
-prepare documentation that may or may not be helpful to anyone else
-self-sufficient, but humble about it

Ughh, interviews are brutal. I have never been in a confessional, but I imagine that it's a similar feeling. I feel transparent, hollow, filled with self-loathing.. and I'm supposed to convince someone that I'm remotely qualified to work for them in that condition? Every person who has ever hired me has told me that they were on the fence about me based on how they perceived me in the interview. I'm always too reserved, too withdrawn, too difficult to engage... gimme a break, it's an interview! I'm in my dark place!

In all seriousness, interviews do tend to fill me with self-loathing. I find myself in a post-interview funk for days. It's hard to explain, especially to someone like my brother who goes on interviews for fun. Some people actually enjoy them. I can hardly fathom that. After an interview, my mind relentlessly regurgitates all of my painfully awkward answers to questions I didn't fully understand, and the more I re-think it, the more syrupy and pretentious those answers start to sound in my head. My perception of their reaction to those answers shifts and I start to remember slightly sinister signs, a faint sneer, a subtle scoff, a shifty glance at the clock, an overly cheerful "Well, thanks for coming in!" followed by a hasty eye-roll to the co-interviewer probably not intended for me to notice. Or was there anything to really notice at all? Am I imagining all of it??

I'm not kidding when I say that interviews are my dark place.

In other news, I'm currently working on my resume. Tomorrow is the deadline to apply for a job that I think I'm at least halfway qualified for, but I have yet to finish my resume or my cover letter. I haven't quite convinced myself that they would even grant me an interview, so I'm finding it difficult to want to stay up late and rack my brain for the perfect phrases to touch up my resume and finish this cover letter.

And that's precisely why I feel like I never have any open doors, career-wise.

Insert short but meaningful and effective pep talk to self here. Follow up with cute token phrase that seems like it means something really profound, doesn't really mean anything at all, but uplifts and encourages nonetheless.

Well, I feel so much better now. Guess I better get back to that cover letter, now that I have a brighter outlook on it and life, among other things.

Groan.

< Insert weak wordplay or bad pun about apps here >

I just recently downloaded a bunch of new apps for my iPod. As many of you know, I have been trying to lose weight. 22.3% of my weight to be exact. And as luck may have it, there are lots of apps out there that are designed to help.

C25k (Couch to 5k in 9 weeks)

This program is designed to take a completely sedentary couch potato and have them running a 5k in 9 weeks. Perfect for a beginner like me. I have long wanted to start running again, but I continually run into over-use injuries like shin splints and bad knees because I start too aggressively. This program only calls for 3 runs a week, and they start out very, very low. One minute of jogging at a time for some of the early runs. You can create a playlist of your own music to play while you're running, and a voice will intermittently let you know if you should be warming up, walking, jogging, or cooling down. I'm counting on this app to help me warm up to jogging without creating any knee problems.



BODY FATE

This app is like having a personal trainer with a great sense of humor. First of all, it's fully customizable. You can enter how long you want to work out, the equipment you have access to, and your overall fitness level. Once you have done that, you click "Begin your Fate" and different exercises are thrown at you. You'll either be given a number of reps to complete or a time limit, and cheating is tough. It can sense if you're wimping out and are not allowing enough time to complete the full set. There are options to spin the Wheel of Torture or make a deal with the devil that make your workout feel more like a game you're trying to beat than just another boring workout. Also, each exercise you are expected to complete comes with pictures illustrating how it should be done and a back-up text description if the picture is unclear. More than anything else, this app stresses the benefits derived from interval training. You will definitely keep your muscles guessing with this app, and you might even look forward to working out. A must-have if you are losing interest in working out or are hitting a plateau, although I think it would be beneficial for anyone.


TargetWeight

This app is very simple, but helps to keep you on track. All you do is enter your height, weight, pounds to lose, and timeline for losing that weight, and this app will track your progress. It also tells you your BMI, although I don't find a BMI score all that helpful. It's always nice to have a graph to show you that you are attaining some downward progress even if you do have a bad day once in a while.


That's all I'm going to review for now. I did download a few habit-checking apps, but I'm still trying them out to see which one(s) I like the best.

Milk is... gross. (Warning: polarizing content)

What I'm about to say will make mothers gasp in horror and cover their children's eyes. I hope it's received a little better than that, but had I heard someone say two years ago what I'm about to say now, I probably would have tuned them out as some kind of flake. And while I may be the color of a flake, I don't think I'm a total flake or even part of a flake.

Before I say it, let me say that I love milk. The creamier the better. I would have milk eleventy times a day if I could. However...

MILK IS BAD FOR YOU.

Hear me out, because this is coming from the granddaughter of a dairy farmer, and I do love milk. I just have a few problems with milk.

Imagine, if you will, that you are sitting down with a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal and you take that first freezing cold, crunchy, sugary bite, when some woman comes running into the room and hollers, "Stop! That isn't milk, it's breastmilk!"

Hey, I warned you that this might be polarizing.

What would your reaction be? I know what mine would be. I can imagine that most people would be disgusted, that they'd spit the bite out and scrub their tongue clean, and maybe forever have an aversion to milk because of that incident. Am I being a little dramatic? I'm not sure. I just think that the idea of consuming human breastmilk is disgusting to almost everyone.

Why is that exactly? Probably because we know that it came from a human body and went through no purifying or homogenizing or separating process. But even if there were a process for human milk, it wouldn't ever be sold by the carton, we know that for sure. Human milk is designed for the baby whose birth initiated the process of making that milk in the first place. Right?!?!??1/??

So why is it not weird that we take milk from a COW instead? Think about it. These poor dairy cows spend their whole lives nursing.. humans. Not literally. But really when you think about it, that is what they are doing! Is this weird to anyone else?

I want to dissect some basic 'truths' about milk, and show you why they are actually just myths.

MYTH 1: MILK HAS ALL THE NUTRITION YOU REQUIRE
Correction: Milk has all the nutrition that CALVES require. What nutrition do calves require? They need a substance that will enable them to pack on weight quickly, hence the saturated fat in milk. I don't think I even need to point out why humans shouldn't be drinking this same substance.

MYTH 2: MILK IS A GREAT SOURCE OF CALCIUM
There is calcium in milk, yes. But not only is it not the best source of calcium out there, it's not even that high on the list. The calcium from milk is not easily absorbed in our bodies. The best sources of calcium include greens, seeds, nuts, beans, and sardines. More on this in myth four.

MYTH 3: MILK IS A BEVERAGE
Milk is not a drink. It's a food. When your doctor tells you to drink plenty of fluids, milk is not and should not be on that list.

MYTH 4: MILK CONSUMPTION WILL PREVENT OSTEOPOROSIS
This is my favorite myth of all. This ties back to the myth that milk is a great source of calcium. It's the calcium in milk that you are led to believe will prevent osteoporosis. Not only is this not true, the opposite is true! More on that in a minute. First of all, what causes osteoporosis? The main cause is the leaching of calcium from your bones. What causes calcium to be leached from your bones? The consumption of alcohol, caffeine, sugar, excess sodium, and excess animal protein. So the real question is this: does NOT drinking milk cause you to consume alcohol, caffeine, sugar, excess sodium, and excess animal protein? No. Not drinking milk does not lead to osteoporosis. Can drinking milk help prevent osteoporosis? Actually, it can help contribute to it. Milk contains a lot of animal protein. Simply by drinking milk, you are causing your body to leach calcium from your bones. Do you see the irony in this? There's more. Everyone always hears about the connection between milk and calcium. People probably hear more about calcium than they do any other mineral. It's true, calcium is an important mineral, maybe even the most important mineral. However, it is CRITICAL that you take calcium in conjunction with magnesium. Your body's process of making calcium useable actually depletes your body of magnesium. You must replace that magnesium, because magnesium is the second most critical mineral in your body. But no one ever hears about magnesium and the importance of it. All they ever hear about is calcium. So they rush out and buy calcium supplements, which further deplete the magnesium that they don't know they need to be supplementing as well, and this leads to a whole host of problems. What happens when your body is depleted of magnesium? Osteoporosis. Among hundreds of other things. Ask my mom, I could go on and on and ON about magnesium.

Let's take it a step further. It is now common knowledge that many people suffer from a milk intolerance. In fact, the official percentage is somewhere around three quarters of the population of the world. How can we still believe that milk is good for us when so many people have a bad reaction to it?? Milk is also linked to heart disease and prostate cancer, and is one of the known causes of IBS, allergies, chronic ear infections, sinus problems, eczema, and constipation. Know what else is linked to all of those things? Magnesium deficiency.

MYTH 5: MILK IS WHOLESOME AND NATURAL
At one time it was. But now over 80% of milk samples contain antibiotics, bovine growth hormone, and pesticides. On top of that, the fat in animal tissues stores environmental toxins forever, and that is passed on to us when we drink the saturated fat in milk. I know that organic milk is an option, and I have tried it. But organic milk doesn't address the other issues with milk.

If anyone is still reading this, you may be wondering what you should drink instead of cow's milk. I have soy milk and I like it, but soy is no better for causing magnesium deficiency. You should NEVER give soy milk to children. Adults should have only small amounts of soy as well, because soy blocks your body's absorption of magnesium. I'm astounded that they still make soy formulas for infants. If you do eat a lot of soy products, make sure you take your magnesium supplement at a time that soy can't interfere with it. I take mine right before bed, about three hours after I have eaten.

All I really want to say is that a mother's milk (whether that mother is a cow or a human or whatever) is ideal for her babies and not for anyone else.

Apparently the USDA was asked by the Federal Trade Commission to compile a group of scientists to analyze the statements they make in their Got Milk? ads, and none of them were found to be true (and some were found to be blatantly false). I haven't seen one in a while, so perhaps they were asked to discontinue these ads, I'm not sure. But the damage is done. People everywhere are convinced that milk is a good source of protein and calcium and that it will help them lose weight, and while I have no problems with anyone else drinking milk, I do wish I could make that decision for my children without facing the judgment of a million Americans who think I'm a bad mother for questioning whether or not my child should drink cow's milk. And my children will drink milk. It's unavoidable. I'm not going to create any waves in the school system (since milk is all they offer children at lunch), but you better believe that this momma will be giving them a magnesium supplement when they get home, and a bedtime story about vitamins that will put them right to sleep every night.

Next week: why vegetables are bad for you! (kidding..)

My current list of songs I never pass by. In alphabetical order. Because that's the order in which they appear on my iPod.

I love lists. So here's your first list: the songs on my iPod currently that I can't skip past, no matter what music mood I'm in. Just wanted to share. Hope you dig.

#1- "Back Against the Wall" - Cage the Elephant


Now I know that a lot of people make a big fuss about "Ain't No Rest for the Wicked", but I prefer this song. It has a bit of a Red Hot Chili Pepper feel, no? Particularly at the beginning.

#2- "Colossal" - Wolfmother


I really dig the 70s sound of this band. You would never guess that this song was written in 2006 by a couple of young men who weren't even around to experience the 60s/70s sound that they have been believed to emulate. I particularly like the turn the song makes starting at 1:44.

#3- "The Delicate Place" - Spoon


I love this band. One of my top five right now, for sure. This song is a little raw, but surprisingly beautiful. If you don't give it at least fifteen seconds, you'll never know what I mean.

#4- "Dimension" - Wolfmother


Another song by Wolfmother. Other favorites by this band include "Woman" and "Witchcraft". No more by them on this list, though. On to the next..

#5- "E-Pro" - Beck


I love Beck. I love how weird he is. I love that the album this song is from [Guero] is Mexican slang for "white boy". This song gets really good at around the :30 mark.

#6- "The Geeks Were Right" - the Faint


I'm pretty sure these guys are LSD personified. But I still like their music. They have a few other songs that I like as well, including "I Disappear", "The Conductor", and "Posed to Death". I won't post videos for those.

#7- "Go It Alone" - Beck


Can't go wrong with a little help from Jack White. Good stuff.

#8- "Got Nuffin" - Spoon


I absolutely love this song. I cannot get my speakers loud enough to do this song proper justice. And here's some little known trivia about this band.. every time I type it, I spell it with 2 p's instead of 2 o's and I have to backspace and start over.

#9- "Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On a Bad Bet" - Fall Out Boy


With their outlandish song titles and even more ridiculous lyrics, you can't help but write off Fall Out Boy from the start. But then you start picking up on their sheer genius, and before long you realize you can't turn them off! They may be a bunch of boys in skinny jeans, but they are lyrical wizards. It's fascinating. "I don't want to be a footnote in someone else's happiness." Come on, that's gold. Or at the very least, tarnished silver.

#10- "Heads Will Roll" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs


Very unique sound. I like this group a lot. And then I say something else about them that's less bland and more witty. Oh, except it's my bedtime and I'm bored with this project. Part Two coming.. soon. Good night.