Motivational moments

Today our office went to the big-deal motivation seminar at the Cox Center here in OKC. It was a surreal experience. There before my very eyes, on stage in proud little Oklahoma City, were Joe Montana, Steve Forbes, General Colin Powell, Zig Ziggler, Rudy Guilliani, and best of all, former First Lady, Laura Bush. I just love that woman. She fascinates me. She's strong, elegant, intelligent, and above all, gracious.

The surreal part came with the 30 minute infomercials interspersed amongst the big names. Painful commercials promoting stuff you see on the odd channels on cable. You too can become a millionaire by learning to trade on the stock market, by buying and selling real estate, or by learning the intricacies of e-commerce. All for a mere $99.99.

I'm just not a signer-upper. I do not run to the latest fad. I do not believe they make anyone rich except the promoters. It's possible I miss out on fabulous, life-changing opportunities by living this way. But I doubt it.

I'm pretty sure that hard work, persistence, integrity, compassion and treating people right are the keys to a successful life. I'm aware those are not innovative thoughts. Those are free to all and do not require two day seminars.

But hey, I got to explain such things as hanging chads and life-threatening George Bush pretzel incidents to coworkers who were barely out of grade school when Laura Bush became First Lady. And they got to explain kj52 (kj5tweezy) to me. So that was an experience not to miss.

The day was, in fact, oddly motivating.

28 years of wedded bliss.

I have not excuse for falling off the bloggy wagon so much here lately except that life has hit me upside the head with a two-by-four, effectively knocking any creative thought right out of the overloaded brain. Survival is the goal for each day. There has been no excessive TV watching, no leisurely thumbing through a decorating magazine, no reading of summer novels. Nope. Because none of those things would work up a sweat, forcing me to change clothes three times per day, or just let the sweat-soaked panties dry on my aching body, leaving me chilled and wishing I'd brought a change of clothes. I can handle a sweaty shirt, but it's the sopping undies that make one miserable in this 105 degree heat. And unlike when I lived in Arizona, the heat here in Oklahoma is definitely not a "dry heat".

In the midst of all this sweatiness (are you still reading, or have you moved on to a less graphic representation of life in Oklahoma in June of 2009) - so, aaaannnyway, in the midst of the sweaty moving of the aforementioned in-laws, of the sweaty house renovation, of the sweaty everything involving moving off of the couch, Mark and I celebrated our 28th anniversary. In style. In Ada.

Don't be so judgy. Ada is a lovely town. I had to work there on Saturday, which was our official anniversary. And since I work for a non-profit and we have pretty much been doing the community serving thing as a family for about twenty of those years, Mark thought nothing of coming along and spending our anniversary serving the good folks of Coalgate, just down the road, forty miles or so, from Ada.

The thing I love about hotels is that you can crank the AC up (down?) to a decadent 52 degrees and lie shivering happily under several layers of blankets without worrying about next month's electric bill. I know. That's not a very tree-hugging thing to say. I should be more concerned about the environment, global warming, blah blah blah. Don't be so judgy. Sheesh. It was 105 degrees outside where I had been working all day in the service of humanity. I can't be responsible for the state of the ozone every waking moment!

We stayed in Ada an extra 24 hours just to bask in the coolness that was the Ada Holiday Inn Express, away from the naggy to-do list that awaited us back home. After 28 years you take your celebrations wherever and whenever you can get them.

I'm back home and ready to tackle the long list of things to do to get this house on the market. Anyone want to buy a much loved and renovated cottage in Bethany? Today you can take it as-is for a steal of a price. I'll leave you the to-do list under the magnet on the fridge.

Just call my name, I'll be there

So is it legal to write a blog post today and not mention Farrah and Michael Jackson? No blogging about kids or life or moving or work?


I mean, I was startled like everyone else yesterday morning to turn on my computer and see the news that Farrah had passed on. And the drive home was comsumed by reports of Michael Jackson being taken to the hospital, Michael Jackson in a coma, Michael Jackson possibly dead.


Farrah forever changed hair. I was in high school during the early years of Charlie's Angels. All my friends attempted the feathered hair look. No one wanted to be Angels Sabrina or Kelly. Everyone wanted to be Jill. Duh!


By the time Michael Jackson made the Thriller video I was a young wife, busy trying to finish college and get my career and family started. I never really got the beauty of the whole short pants, white socks, zipper-encrusted jacket, white glove, crotch-grabbing thing. I pretty much always related Michael Jackson back to the Jackson Five. Michael Jackson and Donny Osmond seemed two of a kind to me. The little brother with a big voice in a family of singing phenoms. I guess I never really understood the remade version. Or maybe it was a matter of timing.



So I guess I just wrote a post about Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett anyway. Both just always seemed sad to me. I'd way rather have had my life than either of theirs. But they did leave their own unique mark on American pop culture. (Thank you Captain Obvious - as my daughter would say).

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

Wow the last seven days have been, um, interesting...exhausting...challenging. I anticipated they would not be a walk in the park, so to speak. But I probably underestimated the need to dig deep and pull up from the depths both physical and emotional strength beyond what I thought I had in reserve. And there's the problem. One must start with some reserves in order to tap into said reserves.

My husband's parents are now moved out of their Kansas home and into our new shared home in Oklahoma. (We must sell our current home before joining them.) There is still a lifetime of accumulated stuff to go through in the garage and the kitchen is not fully unpacked. But the basics are in place. Including the mailbox, which apparently got knocked down while the new home was empty. Funny how you don't notice things until you wander out to see if the mail has been forwarded yet, but are unable to actually find the mail receptacle.

If we weren't already on a first name basis at Home Depot, we are now.

Did I mention that we also lightly passed over Father's Day and Mark's 50th birthday? By the time Sunday rolled around we were too exhausted to celebrate anything except that we could go back to work on Monday and sit down for a few hours. Indoors.

Can I be honest? Well, as honest as I can be on a blog that people actually read? I have no problem getting along with my in-laws. I have great hope for our ability to coexist peacefully. It's when other folks get all up in our business, giving out unsolicited advice, whispering discontent, that things don't go well. The four of us have to make our own way, find a new normal in this transition. It's not going to be easy for any of us, but I think it will be worth it.

Mark and I lead fast paced lives and will need to slow down and actually listen respectfully before moving ahead with plans or changes or opinions. The in-laws are from what has been called "The Greatest Generation", a group of fiercely independent folks who endured and thrived despite great hardship. They will need to learn the art of graceful dependence as their bodies and minds begin to betray them.

There are many challenges ahead, but I anticipate an improved quality of life for all of us. May God be with us in this new phase.

Oh, and happy birthday to my precious Mark. 50 is a respectable age. Your body has given you a present of a few gray hairs. I kinda like them.

Silly is as silly does. Or something like that.

I've been thinking about something Jean Warner said on her blog. Jean's amazing blog helpfully directs us all to important matters regarding women's issues, especially those that effect the women of Oklahoma. I often wonder how she is so connected to what goes on in this state.

She recently shared that a female state politician is now blogging, and in that blog entry she mentioned that although many Oklahoma women blog, she would like to see more women bloggers include "value-added content" related to public policy, business and civic affairs.

Now why has this stuck in my brain? Is it because I'm highly, highly competitive and rarely met a challenge I didn't accept? I've often thought I should put more time, research and value into the content of my blog entries. So why don't I?

(I'm home early from work and I'm trying to blog and watch Oprah at the same time, so I'm a bit distracted. Celine Dion is on. I know folks often make her the butt of jokes, but she is just amazing. I admit it. I'm a fan.)

OK, so I was saying something about putting more thought into my blog posts. Umm...

I think I've determined the reason why I, in particular, do not get too serious on this here blog.

(OK, now Oprah and Celine are both bawling. How am I supposed to think with all that boohooing going on?)

Focus. What were we talking about? Don't you hate it when someone is supposed to be paying attention to you and their eyes keep drifting off to the side, watching the TV or people passing, or when they are texting while you're talking?

So - I really think I don't get all value-added because every waking moment of my life is spent adding value to something. My job at an Oklahoma non-profit is very demanding - every day filled with the juggling act that is directing a program that meets the oral health needs for some of the most under-served children in the state. And when I get home I'm teaching a course at a local university, something that takes a great deal of brain power and creativity. Keeping a room full of adult students interested and engaged for four straight hours is a daunting task. If I'm not teaching, I'm lending my body and brains to the renovation of this old house. Then there's the newest area where I'm hopefully adding value; Combining two households and three generations under one roof.

So when I get on my blog to share my thoughts, I automatically go to silly and frivolous. It's a great outlet - a place where, perhaps sadly, deep thinking is not required. Maybe some day, when the brain and body are less engaged in heavy-duty emotional, physical and mental work, I'll start another blog about best business practices for non-profits, or the plight of women in developing nations, or the blight of urban poverty, or how to stay married for 28 years and live to tell about it, or tips for being the only adult in your immediate family who is not blessed with Attention Deficit Disorder.

But for now (sigh) all I got is silly.

Mama never said there'd be days like these

OK, I told you I'd be back. Due to the miracle of Excedrin Migraine I am now back to walking and talking, as opposed to stumbling toward my bed, moaning in agony, praying to pass into a coma.


Anyway, about Portland. We rented this great house, which you can read all about on my sister's blog. If you are 15 years old and reading this blog (unlikely) and you hate your siblings most days, or fight with them endlessly and look forward to the day when you can live your own life unencumbered by the family you didn't get to choose, then just wait. Because there will come a day, say in your 4th decade, when you can spend a week in the close company of said siblings and feel like they are your best friends.





Yes, we checked out the Rose Festival Parade and the Dragon Boat races on the river. We wandered through the Portland Rose Garden and got inspired to fill the yard at home with roses. We took the streetcar into the Pearl District to shop and eat, and drove to the Oregon coast to dip our toes in the freezing surf, stopping at Camp 18 for breakfast.










But the best moments were the simpler moments. Singing around the piano in the rented house. Walking a couple of blocks to Imago Dei to attend a Sunday service. Hiking a trail near the coast and discussing and debating God and the necessity of Jesus Christ. (OK-for that discussion I was just listening, given that I could barely catch my breath due to the steep slope of the trail).


Then there were the moments of insanity like when I decided it would be a good idea to ride a carnival ride with my daughter, nieces and nephew and brother. There were moments I thought I was going to meet my maker. And if I had, He would have slapped me upside the head and asked me what I was thinking!





For the record, I did NOT join my nieces on this ride. Although they say it was easier than the ride I chose.





Another perfect hour was spent at Arleta's Library, ("Because Good Food is Long Overdue") a local restaurant around the block from my brother's house. I'm not sure what made this a highlight of our trip. Maybe it was the care that my brother's partner, Rudy, took with planning the menu, or the fact that we had the tiny diner to ourselves with the cook working his magic before our eyes as he laid out the gourmet spread on the simple, ancient counter.


So mothers of warring siblings, take heart. There will be days like these for your children, if you resist the temptation to murder them in their sleep while they are young.

How hard is it to click the publish button?

I wrote this four days ago and just realized I forgot to hit "Publish Post". So I'm hitting it now and I'll be back to enlighten you with more fascinating and juicy details about my life. I know. You're on the edge of your seat. Were you getting up? Is that what you were doing on the edge of your seat? Well slide back and get comfy. While you read, I'm going back to bed. I have a screaming headache.

I wish I had...



I don't know what I wish I had. I do know that I'd like another week of vacation. Or a calorie-free cupcake. I'm really not that hard to please.



I also know that tomorrow we're getting up at a ridiculously early hour to sell stuff from the garage to the eager hordes who will be lined up to snatch up my in-laws' cast-off treasures. At least that's the plan. Then we'll load a truck, the first of two, and bring stuff back to Oklahoma, then head back here to Newton next weekend to do it all again. Not the garage sale part. Just the truck loading part. Then the precious in-laws will be moved. Yay. That's as excited as I'm gonna get at the moment. I'm too tired to shout. But I really will be thrilled when that much is done.



Did I mention we went to Portland and enjoyed an amazing 5 days of my brother and family's hospitality? It was freaking awesome. Maybe some day I won't be too tired to tell you all about it. Kind of like when someone forces you to watch their slides from their recent trip to Europe.



Oh wait, people don't do slides any more. Maybe it's like when someone wants you to sit with their laptop on your knees while all their 592 photos scroll by. I'm just wishing my family would get all their photos uploaded so I can bore you with the details. Of course, 90% of the folks who read this blog were with me.

The Horse Whisperer

Mark has this weird ability to draw children and animals to himself. It's like he was Santa in another life. Parents will say to me, Oh little Johnny, he's shy. He doesn't go to strangers. Then they'll turn around and there's little Johnny, sitting on Mark's lap telling Mark what he wants for Christmas. Just kidding about the Christmas part. Unless it's December. But the rest is eerily true. They seem to trust him intuitively.

It's the same with animals. Saturday Mark was out at The Wilds of BLC where he volunteers regularly. They were setting up for Christmas in the Barn when little Hayden let one of the horses out of the gate. After watching the others chase the less-than-tame horse around 40 acres for a good bit of time, Mark finally shooed everyone away, grabbed a handful of hay and gently talked the horse back in it's pasture. And he's a city boy through and through. Weird.

Just when I think he's the original horse/child whisperer, he opens the window and yells at the first grade neighbor kid for throwing things over the fence into our yard. Where did that come from? Of course, this is the kid who paintballed the side of our house (had to clean it off, of course) and was screaming "you're a faggot" at another kid the other day. Maybe he just draws well behaved children to himself!

Go ahead. Bring your kid over. We'll see whether he's naughty or nice.

al desko (al.DES.koh) adv. At a desk

Why do some restaurants feel their tiny cup of soup is worth $6.75? Really - it wasn't that spectacular! I could have opened a can of Campbell's Vegetable Beef Soup, added some Tabasco, and had the same product. But I didn't and I guess that's the difference. Lunch time at the office is always a challenge. I REALLY don't want to stay in my office and eat my sandwich al desko. I need to stretch and get out of the "zone" for awhile. If I bring my lunch I end up driving around with it or parking at Chesapeake Boathouse and nibbling while listening to SportsTalk Radio or NPR. Woohoo! I could join the YMCA and work out, but who wants to come back to work all sweaty?! I could walk, but who wants to get mugged? I don't work in the best neighborhood. I know - as my friend Judy would say - "want some cheese with that whine?"

cup-holder cuisine (KUP-hohl.dur kwee.zeen) n. Food meant to be consumed while driving in a car or truck and that comes in a package designed to fit inside a cup-holder.
dashboard dining n. Eating a meal while driving.
carcooning (kar.KOON.ing) pp. Using one's car for working, playing, eating, grooming and other tasks normally performed at home or at the office.—carcoon v., n.
deskfast (DESK.fust) n. Breakfast eaten at a desk. —v., adj.

Definitions provided by one of my favorite sites - www.wordspy.com

Worth repeating? We'll see.

We're headed out on a family vacation, as if I haven't already said that about a million times. It's summer time, but instead of heading to a beach or lake, we're headed to the great northwest - Portland and the Oregon coast. So while I'm gone I thought I'd pretend to be a big girl blogger and post a couple of my favorite posts next week. At least that was the thought. There wasn't a whole lot to choose from in the worth repeating category. Plus eight out of the ten people who read my blog will be with me. Actually, there are a few more of you hardy folks who check out this blog on a semi-regular basis, so it's for you that I repeat my brilliance. Hugs!

Home again

Just got home from a very fast trip to Atlanta.Aren't you just fascinated by the sea of humanity that passes through an airport? I mean, every size, shape, race, age, socio-economic status flows past as you sit and wait for your next flight. I'm not one of those people who makes up stories about peoples' lives as they stroll or hurtle by. I'm not that creative. Plus when I travel my brain just goes into stupid mode. Shuttle from one gate to the next, sit for long periods of time, tolerate perfect (or really, really imperfect) strangers in uncomfortably close proximity, try not to scream at the person in the security line who acts like it never occurred to them they might have to take their laptop out of their carry on, or take their shoes off before moving through the little body scanner thing. That's about all my brain can handle. Creativity goes out the window.

Mostly I think catty thoughts like what was she thinking when she put those shoes on this morning, or that there must have been a nationwide discounted sale on capris for women over 40 and I missed it, or that he does NOT need that Cinnabon, or that, honey, no one ever said that a navy jacket would look good with that black dress.

I'm mostly fascinated by the women who are traveling alone, like me. Where are they going? Are they working? Are they traveling to visit family? I couldn't help but overhear a few phone convos...

"Honey, would you put that load of laundry in the dryer? But not for very long. And don't dry my blue shorts. And hang my pajama bottoms up to dry. Don't just drape them over something though. Use one of those hangers with the clips, shake them out and hang them upside down. I don't want to have to iron them" Makes you wonder what made her rush away before handling this herself, as she is so obviously used to doing.

Or "Well tell Matthew if he can't make good choices, I'll make them for him!" This one left me imagining the 15 year old boy who was the subject of this cell phone wisdom.

It's always a challenge for any woman to leave her little kingdom in another's hands. But somehow, when we come back, it's still there. And we're grateful for feeling needed while we were gone.

I'm putting my house up on Craig's List

Maintaining my sanity is top priority right now. I know. I need to get my priorities straight. But seriously, it's a little crazy around here. I made a list last night of all the things I feel MUST be done before we put our house up for sale. But at the moment we are tempted to just say forget it and pound that sign in the yard anyway. One house for sale - as is. Take it or leave it. Never mind all that wisdom on HGTV about staging your home, curb appeal, blah blah blah. We'll knock $5,000 off the price if you'll just take the d___ thing.

The good news is that stuff is getting done around here that has been on the list for a very long time. Who knew replacing that crumbling, broken window in the garage would be so easy? The entry way with its ugly, dull flooring? All shiny and new. And don't even get me started on the kitchen. I want to eat my kitchen it's so beautiful. And that lean-to shed thing the previous (and only) owner built onto the garage? Mark knocked it down yesterday. My man and his hammer and crow bar took down that ugly piece of shoddy construction. Friend and handy man Berry came for a second Sunday in a row to lend his expertise and back and knees to the cause. I whipped out some baseboards like nobodies business on my handy power miter saw. Angela and friend Aaron cut down limbs and painted stuff that can only be reached by standing on the roof. Tessa has become a trim-and-door-painting savant.

Speaking of Tessa, the advertising major. I told her she could have half the profit if she sold a few things on Craig's List. She posted an enticing ad to sell our microwave (the new house has one built in) and three hours later she was deleting the post. A lovely family from Newcastle had given it a new home and she had her cash commission in hand. She said it was the easiest money she ever made! I'm taking an inventory of the house though, in case she decides to put all of the contents up on Craig's List. Maybe when we move, but right now we need something to sit on.

Other than that, we're just nursing our aching bodies, soothing our frazzled minds, and trying to figure out how all this is going to happen. I need a Gantt chart just to sort out the in-laws closing dates, move-in dates, packing, truck loading, reconstructing of a bathroom in the new house to make it handicapped accessible for my mother-in-law.

Oh, and tonight after my day job I have to finish teaching my Technical Communications class at a local university. Tomorrow I fly to Atlanta for a presentation at a national conference, back on Wednesday, in the office on Thursday, then off to Portland for a long-awaited family vacation. Then we'll finish up the vacation by heading to Newton to help the in-laws get packed up and ready to move. My head is spinning.

It's all good stuff and we're oh so grateful. Tired. But grateful.