The New Kid in Town

My sister got a divorce from her husband some 10 years ago. She has kids, and she decided to stay where she was--in the same 25 block radius as her ex- so that her kids wouldn't have to move and be the "new kid." It was a good thing for her to stay put, but I always wondered at her reasons.

I have only been the "new kid" a few times. And it has always been at a time and in a place where I am not the only "new kid." When I moved away from the only home I knew, it was for college. I was most definitely not the only new kid at the college. Everything was new, everyone was new, nothing was as it used to be. It was okay to be among the "new kids" at that time.

My husband and I have only moved from St. George to the Salt Lake area and back to St. George in order for him to finish his Master's Degree, so it wasn't much of a deal to be the new kid in those scenarios. I felt comfortable in St. George after living here for college. I grew up in the Salt Lake area, so it wasn't a big deal. When I moved into my newer house in St. George, it was a little different, but it was just fine.

I just wonder if some people don't deal well with being the new kid and I'm not one of those people. I know I'm not the girl who is afraid to meet people or make new friends. And I know that there are people who are fine with making friends when they get in a new situation, but they may still be apprehensive and uncomfortable with being the new kid.

Do some just never grow out of being uncomfortable with being the new kid? And am I just equipped with a different kind of gene that gives me the coping mechanisms to handle new situations (with embarrassment that I'm okay with) better than others? Hmmm....

Cheap cheap cheap

My husband is cheap and extravagant at the same time. "Beer budget, champagne taste" as the saying goes. Man oh man do we pinch pennies. It's good. And lousy. One of the biggest things he hates to spend money on is food. And one of his favorite things to spend money on is food.

In detail: I go to the grocery store. I spend $200. I am feeding six people in my house, so I think this is okay. He hits the roof. And my ceilings are really high. BUT, if we want to go out to eat, he will not even waste his time on Carl's Jr. (which suits me fine because I don't need a 99 cent heart attack). He wants steak. And not Applebee's steak. He wants Gun Barrel steak. So if he feels the sudden urge for an elk steak, he can have it. Don't get me wrong because I enjoy a good steak, but I feel equally bad about a $27 heart attack as I do a 99 cent one. And I'm a fierce cook. If you don't like my cookin', that be yo' problem.

He is always looking for a bargain. He was raised by a yard sale man. I tell you what, I held a yard sale and it pained me to sell some of the stuff for a CHEAP as he marked it. I was in literal pain. After some of our things went so quickly, he did come to me and say, "Maybe we should've marked that up higher." I resisted the urge to say, "Yuh think?" He doesn't want me to spend money on clothes for him. He'll just keep living with the pants I bought him in the first of our ten-year marriage. (News flash, he's not a 30" waist anymore!) But he does want me to have nice clothes...not designer, but good looking. And the girls, too. We all must look nice, he must look shabby. And when we had to get a van because our family no longer would fit in our car that was paid-off, he opted for the new van with 3 miles on it. "There are good incentives to buy new right now!" He did get a killer deal. That's the yard saler in him.

Do you think we ever go to the movies? Ha ha--we do! Especially during the summer blockbusters. Do you think I smuggle in my own treats in a totally illegal manner in my purse? Ha ha again--I totally don't. We pay through the nose for the "meal deal" at the theater. We don't do matinees. We pay full ticket, new show, fresh popcorn price. But it is NEVER for a movie I would've chosen. Why? Because those "kissy-face" movies are the same on a small screen, but the action isn't nearly as intense or enjoyable from Red Box. He obviously doesn't feel for Hugh Jackman, or Colin Firth as I do. Then again, he is also straight so I hope he never feels the way I do for those yummy men.

There's just so much to enjoy about him. It is his cheapness though, that keeps us afloat in the poopy economy. So I guess, raise your (root)beer-filled champagne flute to the cheapy-cheap cheap people who enjoy what must really be worth the money.

That doesn't apply to me

We are told many times and in many places the way we are to do things. There are rules and laws that govern our universe. And then there are those who would rather just do whatever they want and to heck with the rest of us who choose to follow the rules.

Dear people who think the rules don't apply to them: Those of us who merge when the sign tells us to merge don't care for those of you who merge at the very last minute nearly causing a crash for those of us who did as the sign said. Those of us who walk into the hospital during RSV season and read the sign that says "No one under the age of 14 allowed during this season" and; therefore, don't bring our children, get really irked by those of you who don't care what the sign said and just take your 2 year-old wherever you feel like it possibly causing entire groups of people to become ill. Those of us who read that the coupon only was available for use until the 15th of the month used it before the 15th of the month and are bothered by the fact that it's the 16th and we are standing behind you in line listening to you argue about how you still deserve the discount listed on the coupon. Guess what annoying people, THE RULES APPLY TO YOU!

I understand that as citizens of America, we have this chromosome that makes us feel better than everyone else (we do live in a great country), however, this entitlement isn't working for me or lots of others. I believe that if you stand in line, you deserve to get what you waited for. If you read the fine print, you warrant the benefit of your preparedness. If you take pride in a good deal fairly won, then hats off to you. On the other hand, if you feel success in skating by or capitalizing on others mistakes, shame on you.

The rules are there to protect us (signals are useful in cars) and to allow for fun and exciting things to happen (I love 25% off with an extra $10 off coupon). From now on, I assure you, I will not be the lady who is okay with someone cutting in line or cutting me off or choosing to ignore the signs. I will be the one who politely points out that I was already in line. I will be the one tossing my hands in the air when a car swerves into the lane in front of me with no rhyme or previous notice. I will be the one showing that the sign that is posted states blah blah blah and blah blah blah intends to be enforced. Hopefully if I am ever that lady to you, you won't walk away thinking unkind things about me. I'm just helping you understand that you are the only one who thinks, "that doesn't apply to me."

Who thought it was a good idea

I'm not sure what counsel I need to be part of, or what think tank thought it was a good idea...but I'd really like to know who thought it would be a good idea to start things when they do?

For example, I work the graveyard shift: 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. Babies come when they want, so someone has to do it, and I stay up late anyway, so what's the harm? Anyway, I came home from work just after 6 in the morning and got into bed only to hear the garbage truck pull around the corner about 10 minutes later. That poor garbage worker is out at quarter to too early collecting our junk. Who thought that was a good idea?

At the local college, I've been trying to make an appointment with a counselor to figure out what to do with some of my credits. I've stopped in twice and called twice and I have yet to meet my counselor. She happens to have meetings from 10 a.m. to noon and again from 1:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. The office opens at 9:30 a.m. and closes at 4 p.m. I don't know how I'm going to get her because this kind of schedule is what she keeps: meetings all day, orientations all day, vacations for weeks, luncheons that go before and after the lunch hour. I would love to speak with her, but maybe it's just not to be. Who thought that was a good idea?

I hate shopping with my kids in tow, so I tend to go later at night. The struggle I have is that when I go, there is stocking stuff everywhere. I understand that the store is open all night and they have to restock at some point, but really, I can't push a cart down the aisle. Maybe if the restocking happened after 11 p.m.? Who thought that was a good idea?

At any rate, life will go on. I will have my garbage out the night before it's collected because it's just too early to get it out there otherwise, I'll find someone on campus who can talk with me, and I will continue to steer my cart around the product in the aisle. I'm just wondering, who thought that was a good idea?

Some People Just Don't Like Me

I am a people pleaser. It's who I am. I came that way. And the older I get, the more people I know. The more people I try to make happy.

At work, there are nights when I know that being who I normally am will irritate those I work with. It makes it more complicated for me because I am naturally loud (pick yourself up off the floor, I know you are shocked) and make random allusions to different movies or songs. The few people who completely get me throughout my life (the handful of them know who they are), can't be around me all the time.

At any rate, I came to the conclusion over the last little while that some people just aren't going to like me. There is a doctor that I work with who just doesn't care for my conversation topics--I'm positive that she doesn't read my column, either. I think I must be attracted to her last nerve and I just harp on it by being myself. I, luckily, don't have to work with her anymore because I drove her to retire (or she didn't want to pay for malpractice insurance anymore...probably the latter of the two).

The thing is, there are people out there that I don't understand. Or that I don't appreciate. There are people who make, what I consider to be, bad choices. Or who have all the luck. Any of these are reasons to not like someone...only that doesn't work for me. I honestly don't know anyone that I don't like because I just don't like them. It's just an unfathomable thing to me. Not liking someone just to not like them.

So, I appreciate those of you who understand me and like me anyway. You are loved by me. And those who don't like me, it's something I'm just going to have to deal with because there are some people who simply won't like me. It's their loss though because I'm a nice person. And a fierce friend. And I'd love to be liked.

All You Had to Do

Once upon a time there was a woman who was great. She worked hard, she did things well, she set goals and achieved them. She took care of others, was kind, was patient. She was a good friend and people genuinely enjoyed her.

Then she got sick. She was very ill and couldn't go to work. She couldn't do the things she did well. None of the things on her to do list were accomplished. None of her neighbors were tended to by her. She didn't have the opportunity to be kind and patient as she didn't see others. She was just too sick.

This was the time when she realized how nice it would be to have a friend like she tried to be to others. She wished that those who enjoyed her would reciprocate her helpfulness to them. She sat there, feeling sick and wondering what it had been worth.

Meanwhile, at work, the people she worked with wondered what was going on. They thought she must be out for a while. Her neighbors noticed that the little things she did weren't happening, so they did them themselves and they just wondered why she'd stopped doing these things. They just hoped they'd see her soon.

So, here's the problem: there is a woman who could use a friend and help; there is friends and help just waiting out there to be of assistance. And all either of them has to do is ask.

Sometimes, all we have to do is ask. Ask about that friend from work whom you haven't seen for a while. Ask about that neighbor. Make a call. Drop by and check. It is our responsibility as members of the human race to care for each other. And all we really have to do is ASK.

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

My husband is ticked because his baseball team is out a player due to steroids. It got me thinking: what is it with all of these people using steroids to cheat? I think it's a tragedy that drug testing is even part of the athletic programs. If only these people didn't feel the need to cheat!

Cheating is one of those things that has been frowned upon for as long as I can remember. When I was very little, I wanted to win the board game I was playing, so I would try to cheat. My mother taught me from a tender age that cheating isn't the way to go about achieving. (I think that's actually what she said, "Cheaters aren't achievers!")

I was in grade school and had a kid talk to me during a test, the teacher told him to bring his paper to the front of the class so he could finish the test away from me, whom he was trying to cheat off of. (Never a good idea, by the way. It's not like I was getting awesome scores. Ever. I was a middle-of-the-pack kind of girl.) All through school, I had the pressure to be the best, but I was never tempted to cheat because the repercussions for such ranged from embarrassment to failing the class.

In college, I worked in the writing center and had to explain to the students I worked with that they needed to use quotes and cite sources properly or they would be cheating...or plagiarising. In some schools that was punishable by expulsion. In the real world, cheating like this is punishable by law. It's pretty serious.

In my real life (of boring-ness), I try to cut corners on projects or cheat my way through assignments and I always find that the result is not adequate. I make a blanket and try to cheat an easier way and always end up with a lower quality blanket than I would've had if I'd just spent the time.

And because I can't avoid one more obvious time when cheating is awful, just ask anyone who has had someone they love be unfaithful. That's all I'm going to say about that.

At any rate, Manny Ramirez (back to the baseball player)is going to be taking the summer off from sports for cheating and getting caught. There are so many more people who cheat and expect to get off without a penalty, but it never works out that way. Manny is going to lose money (in fines), lose face (in embarrassment), and lose fans (who hate cheaters, my husband included). It's tragic and not worth the consequences.

Thanks to the Thankless Job Worker

Many jobs are thankless. And a lot of people feel that they work in a thankless job. I am not one of those people. Maybe it's because I feel appreciated by small things. And I work with great people. Really great people. But, the garbage collector is a person I don't ever see to thank. Same with the mail carrier and my utilities workers. This week, I'm going to take a moment to thank teachers.

I am an advocate and product of the public school system. (I am choosing to ignore the onslaught of jokes that could be made here about my intelligence.) I think it is great. I think that the men and women who are educators, by and large, are people who wanted to teach. These people wanted to make a difference, to be around children, to see the potential in the future through the small people who will create it.

Everyone I know has at least one teacher who made a difference in his or her life. Every teacher has a student who has become something great. Teachers get the chance to see the fruits of their labors much much later. It's not a job of instant gratification. It's not a job for people who can't deal with commotion or silliness or forgetfulness. Teachers get the chance to watch as a student grasps a concept for the first time. Teachers get to watch progress and feel the joy of growth. Teachers get to love other people's children in a way that isn't creepy.

Lest I wax poetic and therefore, sugary enough to force a gag-reflex, I will just be brief: Thank you Teachers. I remember each and every one of you and could tell you a memory or a story for each...but I won't. Just thanks.

Life imitating art

I know that the saying is "Art imitates life" but I find that often, my life imitates art.

I suppose one of the reasons I love to read is because I love transporting myself to other times with other people. I love to imagine things in other places. I love to put myself into the situations the characters are in. And I would like to think that I would handle myself in a different manner than the heroes/heroines in the stories I read, but sometimes I wouldn't know better because of the time in history. Or sometimes the rules of the land wouldn't allow for me to behave in the manner of my choosing. It's a strange thing about books, isn't it.

Another artistic medium I relate to is visual media. I love movies and I'm a TV junkie... enthusiast, rather. I, once again, enjoy a world where people do things I would love to do if I didn't have the totally awesome life I have now. There are thrilling stories and a view from every angle. I can laugh at a funny saying and maybe adopt it so I can use it at an appropriate moment to make others laugh. Or I can struggle to believe any of the situations could actually happen--and be entertained by the delicious ridiculousness of the whole thing. Yum. But, these pieces of pop culture become part of conversation for me. Maybe that's part of what is so delicious to me.

At any rate, I find myself putting pieces of people I enjoy from art forms into who I am. It's part of my progression, I think. I enjoy a certain character trait, realize it in myself (or wish I had it) and try to emulate it. Or seeing a flaw in a character and wanting to never respond as that character does. And there you have it: my life imitating art. Hopefully not from every angle.

They have a pill for that

I am amazed at the different medications on the market now. There is one for almost everything. And a commercial to go with it.

You have mucus, here take this mucus-reducing pill. You have allergies, here take any one of these histamine-blocking pills. You have heart-burn, here take one of these acid-neutralizing pills. You have a back-ache, tooth-ache, head-ache. You have low blood sugar, low sex drive, low platelet count. There's a pill for that. You can take a pill to sleep, a pill to stay asleep, and a pill to keep you awake.

I was thinking about it. I wonder why there is no pill for patience (I'd be popping those like jelly beans). Or a pill for improving your mood (some people use retail therapy for this). Or a pill to bring overly-happy people back to a level playing field (although, is that really what anyone would want?). There are so many things that we medicate for and I sometimes wonder if we are making things worse or better.

Not to sound ungrateful because I love that medication is available. It's good. And I'm grateful that I live in the USA where we encourage pharmaceutical advancements. I just think that issues regarding dependency and side-effects overshadow the goodness of these advancements.

Perhaps my attitude is just rotten. I'm sure they have a pill for that.

Starving through school

One of the men I work with is sending his son to medical school in two weeks. His son will be going abroad for school and his little family's life will be changed forever. He said he hopes his son and daughter in-law get hungry, but not his grandkids. And he hopes they don't make really dumb financial decisions. As this man reflected on his own time going to medical school and how difficult things were then, he was hoping that things wouldn't be too different for his own son. He talked about how the 39 cent burritos for lunch every day were sick, but they were cheap. And how he studied from 5 in the morning until 8 in the morning, walked to class, came home and hit the books again. He talked about $5 date nights with his wife courtesy of the park and the hot dog stand. And how they were very hungry most of the time.

I respect this doctor I work with a lot. And maybe that's part of the reason. He is busy and therefore wealthy, but he is also generous and not showy. At all. His wife refuses to pay full price for anything. He's one of those millionaires next door.

An attorney I know moved to Oakland, CA to go to law school. He and his wife lived in an apartment that was about 500 square feet and they couldn't even put their milk carton upright in their fridge. He clerked for a judge who was awful making very little. He studied every chance he had. He's very successful. And worked hard to get there.

I think there are many people who starved their way through school. Many who didn't, but a lot who did. I think those who sacrificed and worked hard to starve through school appreciate it more. There is a sweet moment, way after the work, when someone looks at the success and is envious. When a snide comment comes their way sounding like, "My medical bill paid for 15 shingles on his roof." Or, "I can't imagine how hard it must be to drive a car with leather seats." But at moments like these, the doctor I work with can say, "I never have to eat 39 cent burritos again for lunch, have you ever?" And the attorney can say, "I once lived in an apartment where I couldn't fit my milk upright in my fridge; do you have that problem?"

They may not know it, but their sacrifices have inspired this dreaming writer to push my own kids toward starving through school because what is left after graduation is a stellar professional.

Let's Get Out of Here

It's the perfect line for a movie. If you think about the situations your favorite movie characters get into, "Let's get out of here" is the perfect remedy.

Aliens are attacking! The hero looks at the heroine and says, "Rosie, let's get out of here!" Like they want to have their brains scrambled to mush.

In a World War II barrack, two soldiers huddle together as bombs and guns go off around them. The one looks to the other and says, "Wilson, let's get out of here or you will never get to see Norma again." And it's true. At the end of the movie, Wilson and Norma reconnect because somewhere in the middle his best war buddy said, "let's get out of here!"

The piano plays a jazzy tune as the singer steps up to the mic. The room is filled with smoke and people. She begins her song and the man sitting at the bar is mesmerized. At the end of her song, he steps to the side of the stage where she is heading to her dressing room. He talks with her, charms her, and says, "I'd really like to talk with you. Somewhere more private. Let's get out of here. What do you say?" And soon they have fallen in love.

Two friends are hearing strange noises coming from the basement. They both have a secret and someone else knows what it is. They look at each other with terror on their faces. "Let's get out of here," stammers one to the other. And the run out to their car and a car chase ensues.

The brothers have just finished toilet papering the laser tag place they have been kicked out of. They chuckle as they nudge each other pleased with the job they have done. They hear a car pulling into the parking lot. They stop laughing and say, "Let's get out of here!" As they run away from the scene.

It's pretty much the most simple and completely applicable line for movie-dom. I say Well done screenwriters! And on that note, "Let's get out of here!"

What I Want Most

A college professor of mine used to say, "Don't give up what you want most for what you want right now." Ten years later, I still have that phrase run through my head when I am making a decision. I was thinking about that today.

I have many things I want. Many are just superficial, some are short term and others are life goals. Superficial wants for me include a size 6 body (okay, maybe this post is taking a walk on the fantasy side of life), a perfectly white smile, no glasses, and fabulous hair. So what do I have to give up now for what I want most? A little sleep in the morning to go to the gym, chocolate (of maybe being a lot more than I size 6 is worth it) and other high calorie foods. Do I want that size 6 that much? I'm afraid the white smile, no glasses and great hair are just a matter of dentistry/Lasic surgery/my friend Fran who can whiten my teeth/zap my eyes/style my hair. And money.

Then the short term things I want. I really want to go to Disneyland early this summer. I think it would be great fun to take a little vacation to the happiest place on earth. I am not a frequenter of Disneyland, but I sure love the magic of the Magic Kingdom. Especially through the eyes of kids. Short term wise, I just buy fewer snacks at the grocery store and generic brands at that to save a quarter here or there. I drive my car less so I don't have to fill the tank as often. By doing small things, I plan to get what I want.

My long term goal list is big and started when I was about 14. I put together a list of things I wanted to do before I die. It includes things like: get married (done), go on an Operation Smile mission (still would love to), be a mom (I never stated anything about the quality of mom I wanted to be. This is also done.). It also includes things like: skydive, ride a Harley across the country, and receive a prestigious award. There are over 50 things on this long term list. Some I am willing to part with. I am surely not going to die if I never learn to surf in Oahu, and there are many things I would rather do (get a Master's Degree) before I surf. I look at this list from time to time and chuckle at my dreams or think I was very clever at 14 to think I could live in every state in the United States. I won't give up much to achieve some of these goals, and others of them will be the main focus of my life (enjoy every wedding anniversary).

I guess I'm just grateful that I had a professor who taught me to not give up my dreams because as I get entrenched in daily life, I think I really have nothing ahead of me but tomorrow. And who said tomorrow is a bad idea?

We Both Wiped a Tear Drop From Our Face

The title of my post is a lyric to a song. It talks about the tears we cry for different reasons. This week, I cried for the loss of my husband's grandmother.

Darlene Stout, or "Grandma Dar" as we affectionately called her, was the only grandma I got to enjoy. My parent's parents died before I was born, or when I was too young to enjoy them. Grandma Dar was involved in my life. When I first met her in Las Vegas, Spencer and I were dating. We went down for his cousin Amy's wedding and Grandma was extra kind from the moment I saw her. She had a cheery expression. She loved everything about me--it seemed. She told Spencer if he didn't marry me than he'd have to work very hard to find another woman to take the place I'd created in her heart. (Not a direct quote, but that was the gist.) I love her and am grateful that my kids got to know Grandma Dar.

So, what other things cause a tear drop to be wiped from my face? A beautiful song. Music is just a way to get into my soul. A beautiful moment. That hug after the fight or the cute kid holding hands with her dad. A beautiful story line. That sweet moment where all that felt lost has been restored. A beautiful baby. There's simply nothing like a birth. A beautiful memory. Who doesn't want to be remembered?

On the other end of the spectrum... A well placed insult will always draw a tear. Those ones sting my very soul. A sacrilegious comment. The statements that just hurt the heart because they are so very wrong. A momentary lapse in judgment that takes an eternity to restore. A hammer hitting just the right nerve. Literally. All things that draw a tear.

Back to the song, and Grandma. As I watched her turn herself over to the ailments that would take her, the lyrics, "I guess the good Lord giveth and the good Lord taketh away..." ran through my mind. There will no longer be a Grandma. But somewhere in this beautiful life, a child was born. Somewhere someone is hurting, and somewhere someone is healing. Somewhere someone is dreaming, and somewhere someone is living their dream. It balances out. Maybe it's not the most effective coining of phrase, but the mere thought of it is worth the tears.

A Helmet to Take a Walk

Natasha Richardson had a fatal skiing accident this week. It's all over the news. It's a sad thing when a person dies young. She still had so much life ahead of her. At any rate, her accident is causing a buzz in various circles. Was it suicide? The autopsy has disproved that. Was she on drugs and just being reckless? The autopsy also disproved that. She was skiing. Being a young woman enjoying a sport. She had an accident that lead to a brain bleed. The brain bleed became more serious as time went on, and she died as a result. Now, the media are questioning if she should have worn a helmet on the ski slope to prevent this injury.


Here's where I have to say puh-leeze. A helmet? On a ski slope? When you are skiing for the fun of it? I can see this becoming a thing, though. Someday, skiers are going to have to carry a helmet along with their boots, poles, and skis to the slopes. Maybe helmet-wearing skiers will be the only ones permitted to ski on certain slopes. Maybe people who are without a helmet will not be allowed to ski at all. So, if I have to wear a helmet to snow ski, what's next?


"Sure, I'd love to take a hike with you. But I just don't have a hiker's helmet. You never know, I may trip." Or, "Okay little preschoolers, let's all put on our helmets so we can play Ring-Around-the-Rosie. We wouldn't want any of your little uncoordinated noggins to bonk each other!" Or, "Attention ballerinas! Ballerinas! It is now time for dress rehearsal, please put on your helmets so we can finish act 2 of Swan Lake. "

I understand that there are things that we do at high speeds and would create a scenario where a helmet would be appropriate. For instance: While riding a motorcycle. Perfect place for a helmet because concrete can do a lot of damage to an uncovered head at 35 mph. While riding a bike. Good place for a helmet because many people wreck on their bikes and bang up all parts of their bodies. Playing baseball . I don't know a single person who wants to have a baseball near their heads when that ball travels at 80 mph with frightening accuracy. I love helmets in all of these situations. I kind of think people who don't wear them under the circumstances I listed above are just asking for something horrible to happen.


But snow skiing? I just hope that the person who is thinking to implement such silliness has to have a majority vote before it can be enforced.

The ipod in my head

Maybe it's because I enjoy music. Maybe it's because I was raised listening to music. Maybe it's just because I'm quirky that way, but I honestly have an ipod set on shuffle running through my head. Ask anyone who works with me, I will find a song to go with nearly any situation.

I was chatting with my very good friend today. We discussed how our kids make us crazy. It's true, they do. On occasions when I want to be super frustrated with my kids' behavior, I have the phrase "and could you hold him twice as long when he makes his mistakes" run through my head. It usually helps keep my voice volume in check. I get told from older generations (often) that "your gonna miss this" time of your life. It's hard to see it when I'm in the middle of it.

So, hit your shuffle button with me for a minute.
"I let all these years go by wasted" (Carrie Underwood) may be the lyric that goes through your head when you realize that you have missed special moments in your life.
Who doesn't think that "Ice Cream" (Sarah McLaughlan) would just make everything better? And as my kids all crowd around me I think, "Girl(s) you are wearing me out. Wearing me out!" (Josh Gracin), but all they think is "You're the one that I want" (Grease).
So, "Suddenly I See" (KT Tunstall) that the best I can only hope for is that things "can only go up from here" (Shania Twain).
Some of you may have had the chance to fall "Accidentally in love" (Counting Crows) with your best friend, there is just so much less "Pressure" (Billy Joel) that way, don't you think?
And when I miss someone I want so badly to just be "where you are...and to see you smile" (Josh Groban).
I am not a fighter, so I just want to say, "Forget about it" (Allison Krauss) when the push comes to shove.
I guess most of all, though, I look at my life and think "I have been blessed" (Martina McBride) and "I thank God for you" (Sawyer Brown).

That's what hitting the go button on my shuffle works out to be. Maybe I should avoid blogging under the influence (of music).

It's an inevitable thing: music applies to life. That's the way those artists to perform it mean their music to be. Just think about it and I bet you'll find a song to fit your situation or mood. Or you could just be random as you go through your day and feel like your brain is just an ipod set to shuffle, too.

Loving What You Do

I spoke to a man the other day. He is good with numbers, understands space and the composition of things used to fill vacant space. He knows where to start projects and what each step will be along the way because his thought patterns are linear. This man is a civil engineer. He majored in it. Graduated in it. Is now a professional in it. He is very good at it. He doesn't love it. He loves teaching. Teaching doesn't pay what he wants to earn. Teaching courses in college didn't suit him. Here he is, ten years into his career thinking, "I'm good at what I do, why isn't that enough to make me love it?"

I have often wondered why it is that some are given talents that they don't really enjoy. Or they are given a talent that they love, but there's no way to make a living out of it. Or they love their talent and they make a living out of it, but at the expense of losing a personal life.

My civil engineer example seems common among those I know. I know lawyers who don't enjoy arguing, they just understand the judicial process extremely well and can compose and organize documentation like you wouldn't believe. I know doctors who have never really clicked with people and don't have the deep compassion a caregiver needs, but the science and cutting-edge technology fascinates them so they practice medicine. I know childcare workers who love kids, but can't stand to be around them, educate them, or calm them. These people don't love what they do. They must find satisfaction elsewhere.

I know so many people who are more talented than I can imagine. A man who acts, sings and is a decent dancer belongs on the stage. Except that the stage is a hard place to make a living. So, he is a soft wear designer by day and Othello by night. A woman has the ability to calm a crying child, soothe a sore muscle, ease a headache or rehabilitate an injury with her hands. Getting a massage is a luxury and when the economy is down, luxuries get cut from the budget. This woman's skill is for naught, so she clocks in and clocks out to make her money. These people have something they love to do, but the balance is off.

TV, Movies, Music. All full of people who have a talent. Something they have chosen to make their living. All of them must have something that draws us, as consumers, to watch or listen. Then you think about their personal lives. I wouldn't want the problems that come with being a professional in the public eye. Honestly, I don't even like to use a public bathroom. There are a few who sport this lifestyle that keep it together professionally and personally.

Not to appear totally cynical; a few and proud groups of people love what they do. If they didn't do it for a living, it would be their hobby. Hats off to you. Way to merge professional and personal in one cohesive block. In the mean time, I'll maintain my hobby that doesn't make me money, work like I don't have to, and wish I had talent enough to become something.

Fashion Police Deputy I Am Not

I see Kate Winslet grace the red carpet. I think her dress is a glorious way to show off her perfect body. I think her hair is different, but I like it. I love the asymmetric shoulder line, the sable color, the material choice, the sheer overlay on part of her skirt. I think she looks amazing. I see Vanessa Hudgens on the carpet. Her dress isn't my fave. The flowers that floof off the front, the shape and color of the dress just don't work for her age or personality in my opinion. Her hair is loose, which is always nice, but I'm just not a mermaid-style dress lover. I say all this knowing that my opinion is useless because I am not part of the "Fashion Police."

What I want to know is who decides what is appropriate and acceptable? How do they know so much? I have never been one for fads. I like to look nice, but I just don't play into what is trendy or "hot" based on the opinion of the proverbial "they." I don't have the money or the body shape to pull off what most of Hollywood wears. Nor do I want to. I think that weighing 130 pounds is acceptable, not a tragedy. Sorry, another Syndication Hopeful post all together. Back to the "they" who decide what is in style.

Some fashion education comes from magazines. Who is wearing what and how did they come by it? And how can you get it? I love the fact that in my hum-drum little life, when I am reading a mag, "they" feel so inclined to tell me how I can get that look. Seriously. If I showed up at the market wearing five inch heels, a pencil skirt and a bo-ho blouse with my four children in tow, I would be laughed out of the produce section! How do you chase after a two year-old wearing five inch heels? Sure, these women who are wearing these outfits are mothers also. They do what I do. Only not. It's just a little comical.

Some fashion education comes from reality TV. Who is "America's Top Model" and what is she wearing? Who designs the next trend for the summer? Is there some think-tank at Vogue that gets together and says, "Let's make people throw out their greek-style sandals and go for minimalist hiking sandals. Let's do away with the micro-mini with leggings under and go back to a walking short. And forget layering tees, lets bring seer-sucker tanks back with a vengeance!" It's out of my realm of understanding.

Well, I have to say, the long and short of it is people should just dress in what makes them look good. You look good in a sable gray, asymmetrical dress? Go for it. You look good in a black mermaid-style dress with floofy flowers on your chest? Go for it. As I said before, I'm no fashion police deputy. I just may have to disagree with your plan and be thankful I'm not on the front row of the fashion shows at Fashion Week.

Small Blessings

I am among the people in the world who forget how blessed I am. I don't mean to be ungrateful, I just live my life and lose sight of the small favors I enjoy daily. Today is a day that I will remember my small favors as I sit at my computer and post. I haven't showered yet, I can't run my full dishwasher, I have two full hampers of laundry, and here I sit. Lazy much? I'm sure you are thinking; it's just that I had to turn off the water main to my house because it's broken and gushing water down my street. I'm grateful to my neighbor who noticed it and let me know so I didn't provide the pavement with some much needed quenching.

I'm grateful for the water that just runs out of my tap. That is a bill that I'm happy to pay. I think about how it would've been back in Cleopatra's day. Now, wouldn't have been a Cleopatra because I'm not wealthy; therefore, I would've had to fetch my own water. Me. Walking to the river. Water basin on head. I'm far too delicate for such work. I guess I would have gotten used to it. But it's something I take for granted and I'm happy for it.

I'm grateful for my health. I saw a friend of mine at the park yesterday. He told me they found a tumor in his brain so he is dealing with daily headaches until the treatments start working. I feel bad for him. I eat what I choose. I can go to the gym and workout (though I don't as often as I should). I can play or write or cook or clean. I don't have the ask others to do those things for me. I appreciate when they do, but if not I can do it for myself. Also something I take for granted.

I'm grateful for my eyesight. I'm grateful that I can hear. I'm grateful to have a house even when I have to clean it. I'm grateful that I have more than one pair of shoes and jeans. I'm grateful that I know how to cook. I'm grateful that I know how to play the piano. I'm grateful I know how to love others. All of these things I have but don't think about daily. They are my small blessings and I will try to remember what those small blessings are.

Communication Advances?

We live in a really great day. Modern conveniences are everywhere. Push a button and viola you have warm left-overs. Or an elevator called. Or a special message sent. I do have to wonder if all of the advances are getting us in the right place, though when I can't even get anyone to talk with me.

When, oh when, did we get away from talking? How is this good for anyone?

I have a very good friend--I mean a really really good friend--who doesn't answer her phone. She says she is going to be better about that, but if I would just drop her a text she would respond to that! I have been sitting in the room with my nephews and nieces and they will text each other. They are literally in the same room but they just don't feel like talking. I really wish I was kidding here. Another member of my family won't answer the door or phone: "the phone is a convenience for me and the door is there to keep those I don't want away." She must just have ESP to know if her kid is calling with an emergency.

I have to tell you, I just can't live with the anxiety of not knowing what is on the other end of that line or on the other side of the door. Not to mention the desire I have for the immediate gratification of conversation. I would just keep putting up messages over the top of messages while waiting for a response to my previous message. I'm just too impatient. I just appreciate face-to-face/ear-to-ear vocalization. I like to hear a person's voice fluctuate or sound sarcastic or pause for (wait for it...) dramatic effect. I like to ask opinions or get directions or get advice and have the fulfillment of a reply or instructions or guidance. I like making a joke and hearing a laugh. I like singing a song to support a comment. I like to throw in a movie quote to add dimension. I just like a good old-fashioned conversation.

Don't misunderstand. I am not suggesting we go back to smoke signals or Morse code. I just think that these "communication advances" are really a social backward step. I will just continue communicating the best I know how (like I ever shut my mouth!) and hope that I don't get left in the dust because I communicate like I wasn't born during this time.

Whose Gym is it Really?

There are gyms in my town. Quite a few. Some are circuit training, some are full on rec. centers with tennis courts, climbing walls, swimming pools, etc., some are mostly weight machines. At any rate, any one who desires fitness and strength has a plethora to choose from. What I love about the gym I patronize is that it offers so much that I really enjoy...depending on the time of day.

If I get up and go to the gym ridiculously early in the morning, I join the Corporate Crowd. The ones who come to the gym, get in a good sweat, shower and place the blazer on their body to go to the office. These people appear to be the ones who go to bed at the same time each night. Who are organized and confident. I love my non-corporate life, but these people do make me think it would be nice to be among them as I watch them at the gym.

If I go early in the morning, I join the Mom-tourage. Those who are coming to get their gym on before getting the kiddies off to school. These women, I must admit, I fit in well with. They are there without make-up. They don't have the newest matchy-matchy outfit to exercise in. They have "I love the '90's" music in their i-pods. They are there to get rid of the post-partum spare tire. Power to the Mom-tourage.

If I hit the gym in the morning, there is a mis-mash of people. A few old, a few young, shift workers, those interested in whichever class is being offered at the time. This is a good non-judgmental crew. Keeping their cardio up, and doing their own thing. This group is also good to go with since they worrying about them and not about you--unless you are in trouble, then they are willing to help.

If I'm getting my tread on during the mid-morning to afternoon, I am a lone woman in the gym. Actually, the six of us there hardly make a peep and we hardly know that the other five exist. I love the social experience and undisclosed competition between treadmills so I rarely join the few and proud afternooners, but the attendees who prefer to have privacy and space are good to go.

Now comes the rest of the day...once it's after school, the gym goers have a little bit different kind of goal. This is the crowd that intimidates me. The companion seekers. Granted, if you enjoy fitness and having an "A" body, you probably want your mate to have the same. So, if you are looking (hunting), the gym would be a natural place to find (lay out your scent for) someone with the same interests (great body) as you. I'm sure if I didn't have my awesome spouse, I'd go to the gym at this time of day to find someone with my same interests (washboard abs) wearing my cutesy outfit, with my make-up all perfect, the newest cross-trainers in a shade that matches, and my hair perfectly coiffed. My situation, as it now stands, does not take me to the gym at that time of day.

However, late at night, is another crowd I can relate to. They are the I-just-got-my-kids-in-bed or I-can't-fall-asleep or I'm-avoiding-doing-something-else-so-I'm-here bunch. On many occasions, I have hit the gym late at night for the afore mentioned reasons. It doesn't matter what you look like, you are just there to burn off steam or energy or boredom. None of these reasons is a bad one.

As I work on my workout and observe each of these types of exercisers, I feel an array of feelings. Just being at the gym is good. It is nearly half the battle; the other half is to focus enough to feel the burn instead of feeling the overwhelming fact that you aren't like them or maybe you are. It really doesn't matter when your clothes fit better, though, does it.

I must be getting old

I don’t know at what point we decide we are old. Maybe it happens slowly. Perhaps some experience it all at once. There are different times and points in life where we think, “I’m getting old.” Let me describe my little-by-little moments of aging.

When I was in college, I stayed up all night. I didn’t live with my parents, so there wasn’t a curfew. I’d have a test to study for, a date to the midnight movie, a dance that went into the wee hours. It was no big deal. No sleep and me being pretty worked out just fine. Then I had a kid. Staying up all night was no longer fun. If I couldn’t be asleep by 10 p.m., I was miserable. As I told my husband that I was so tired and he concurred, we realized, we must be getting old.

Recently, I moved into a new house. In my old neighborhood, I was the “old one.” At twenty-eight, I was old. The other girls in my old neighborhood were newly-weds who had the fresh dewy look of youth. The stars in their eyes, the rosy view of the future. Next to them, I was old. I was a newly-wed nine years ago. The “dew” I have is running down my chin when I realize I’ve been sleeping on the couch—holding still for too long does that to me. My rosy view is now a whisper pink. These girls—we’ll refer to them as the young ones--came to me for advice. The young ones were in shock that they were contemporaries with a mother of four. The young ones would ask me to text them some information and I stammered, “I don’t even have texting on my phone.” I felt like I must be getting old.

At lunch the other day with my friend, we realized we are getting old. We looked around the restaurant which we happened to be sharing with those from the nearby high school. Our conversation went from who has the best deal on deli products (another tell-tale sign of aging) to, “What are these people wearing? I thought leggings, skinny jeans and big bangs went out in the ‘80’s and I really didn’t miss them going!” I must be getting old when I’m bagging on the next younger generation’s clothing choices.

This is the now, and I have yet to look forward to the extra time it takes to get those last few inches off my waistline. And having only divorced guys check me out when I’m in the community because I better fit into their demographic. And the achy knees after a day of gardening. And the clumsiness of falling over the vacuum cord and spraining my shoulder. And having my kids say to me, “Mom, you mean you only paid $3.69 a gallon for gas?!?” Oh, the future.

So, I know that I can’t stop time. I wouldn’t want to. There are things that are to come in my life that will make the extra waistline inches, achy knees and insulting comments from my procreated matter worth it. For example, I hear that being a grandma rocks. I love the idea of knowing what a recipe/pattern/instruction pamphlet is saying when it says to “add cornstarch until desired texture is reached”/ “baste raw edges together along the bias”/ “use the hex key to drive in the final bolts.” I think that making dinner for a house full of people sounds fun because it must mean there’s a special occasion. Some day. For now, I’ll just take my knocks like the rest and be happy with the age I am.