Cari-Okie

My world

2010-11-18T20:34:00.002-06:00

Random thoughts from my day that I wanted to tweet but I haven't found an app for my new(ish) phone. I have to be content with sharing my thoughts only with myself. Gasp.

Today ended a relatively long period of time during which I have not fallen or otherwise injured myself. I fell UP some stairs in a very public place and a young man who looks like the blond kid on Glee -you know, the new cast member - paused while talking on his cell phone to ask if I was OK. Oh, I was fine. Just FINE, thank you very much. I felt very old and I need Advil.

I guess really it hasn't been all that long since I injured myself. There was the incident where the hot gooey stuff on a Panera cinnamon crunch bagel jumped onto my thumb like a tick and burned a hole at the base of the nail. That's one way to get rid of those annoying cuticles. But I haven't actually FALLEN in quite a while, which for me is nothing short of miraculous. I don't remember being particularly clumsy as a child. It's definitely an acquired talent.

Lately on the way to work I've been driving around construction crews doing mysterious things. Today all was revealed. They have installed beautifully executed wheelchair ramps at the curb of every corner near Penn and I-40. They are quite something to behold, these ramps. Except that they lead straight into the soggy grass - ramps to nowhere. There are no sidewalks. I certainly hope that they are connected very soon by sidewalks, otherwise it will have been a monumental waste of time and money. Did the city get stimulus money specifically to make curbs wheelchair accessible? Weird. At least now the panhandlers can pull their shopping carts or bicycles or wheelchairs closer to the traffic. I'm not being insensitive about the wheelchair thing. They clearly do NOT need wheelchairs. Seriously people, stop giving them money.

I've had bouts of giddiness the last couple of days. I think it has to do with the cold weather and the Christmas music I'm playing in my car. It just clears the head and makes one sort of stupid happy. Truthfully I'm not a big fan of the actual holidays, but I do love the atmosphere and the days leading up to Thanksgiving and Christmas. I think it has something to do with unrealistic expectations. Everything is supposed to look and feel and smell like perfection, right? Wrong. Life isn't quite that clean and neat and free from drama. I need to approach the holidays fully expecting messiness and fussiness and a predictably unpredictable amount of non-cooperation and imperfection. Then I'll be pleasantly surprised if it turns out well. I should be Danish.

Tomorrow I say good-bye to all my new friends at United Way who now feel like old friends. So I'm off to bed early in order to be fresh for the very early morning celebration breakfast.

Blessings

2010-11-17T07:01:00.004-06:00

This week is my last week at United Way as a Loaned Executive. It's interesting how when you are shoved through the door into a room with 25 complete strangers you come out the other door three months later with 25 new friends. I can't think of too many other examples of an opportunity to put your daily work life on hold for a few months while you go do something good for somebody else, and at the same time gain skills, knowledge and a bunch of new contacts. Pretty awesome. I would encourage anyone to do it.

I'm on my way to speak at my last rally of the campaign season. Then I'll spend the rest of the day and week making final contacts with my accounts, rounding up those last dollars, wrapping things up. And counting my blessings. 'Tis the season! Oh, and while I'm driving around...I'll be listening to Dave Barnes Very Merry Christmas album. If you buy one Christmas album this season, make it that one!

What'chu lookin' at?

2010-11-14T18:01:00.004-06:00

Illustration by cartoonist Tex Avery

In my younger days I could turn a head. You know what I'm talking about - bring on a second glance from an admiring male. But, as the years have added up with the pounds, that has happened less and less. Or maybe it's because men are too busy checking out my beautiful daughters. That always makes me want to smack them (the men, not the daughters) and point out that I'm their mother and I'm RIGHT HERE! HELLO! I can see you! Once I was at an office party and talking with a group of younger men. One of them was clearly checking out my daughter, who was standing across the room. He even went so far as to make a suggestive comment to one of the other guys. I was all "ahem - before you take that thought any further, I want to point out that she is my daughter, and I would be happy to introduce you to her husband and her father, who are IN THE NEXT ROOM! Sheesh.

Recently though, I've noticed a strange new phenomenon. Older dudes are taking a second glance at me. I find myself wondering what that old guy is staring at. Why is he smiling in my direction? Really, I don't get it. Do I look familiar to them? Are they just passing gas? Because I don't feel like my looks are worth a second glance. I'm not saying that in a self-deprecating sort of way. I'm just stating it as fact. I have seen better days and a lot of cookies. I do have nice hair though. Maybe older men like nice hair.

I shared this thought with my sister and she pointed out that the "old" dudes were probably our age. I guess that makes me feel a little less creeped out but it really doesn't make me feel any better or give me an answer to the mystery. Because it does seem a little like a mystery.

If I only had a brain...freeze

2010-10-06T19:59:00.003-05:00

Yawn. That's what my blog has been lately. Not because my life is a yawn but because I just...well, I just...I don't know what I just. I do know I enjoyed doodling the artwork you see on my blog. Maybe it's a metaphor for my life. Lots of interesting things flowering in my brain but very little of it fully colored in or complete.

We've had some relatives in. I burned myself on another cinnamon crunch bagel. That's becoming a weekly ritual. Maybe next time I'll go with something with less topping that can stick to my thumb and burn a hole in me before I can shake it off. I entered another writing contest just for the practice. The gig at United Way is good. We are getting to the heart of the campaign so it's rallies here and rallies there; Air Force base, police station, call center, and lots and lots of schools. That's where I've taken my dog and pony show lately. Hopefully along the way I've raised a little awareness and a little money.

I'm reading "The Secret Life of the Grown-Up Brain" by Barbara Strauch. It's subtitled "The Surprising Talents of the Middle-Aged Mind." I'm still looking for those talents. The other day I got out a pair of socks and my shoes to go for a walk. Once I finished tieing my right shoe I realized I was no longer holding my left sock. I looked everywhere - even retraced my recent steps and shook out my clothes. I looked everywhere except my left foot, which is where my sock was. I had already put it on. Does anyone else scare themselves like that or is it just me? Anyone? Hello?

What was I saying? Oh yes. So the author of this book quotes Laura Carstensen, director of the Stanford Center on Longevity who said: "I'd have to say from what we know now, that the middle-aged brain is downright formidable."

Really? Can it be true? Strauch says "Most of us, while beset with a normal level of middle-aged muddle, are, in fact, quite normal. What's more, we're quite smart." OK, I like that. I'll go with that.

I do think my mind leans more towards creativity and less towards sweating the small stuff and the details. Another thought from Strauch:

"A friend who is a poet told me recently that she does not think that she could have written the poetry she does until she had reached her mid-fifties -- until her brain had reached its formidable age. 'It feels like all the pieces needed to come together,' she said. 'It's only now that my brain feels ready. It can see how the world fits together -- and make poetry out of it.'"

Hmm. Think I'll go ponder while I watch Modern Family. Now if I could only remember where I put the remote.

Deconstructing Cari

2010-09-14T07:33:00.000-05:00

I'm pulling up the couch for this post. You're the therapist, I'm the patient.

Me: So Doc, if I hated my previous job - well, hate is a strong word - but if I was constantly super super stressed at my previous job, and I have all kinds of ideas in my head for starting my own business, and I've actually already started a nonprofit with my sister, then why am I irresistibly drawn to looking for a "real" job?

You: Well, let's explore that. How does how does that make you feel?

Me: I guess I like the security of having a paycheck and the confidence that comes with having an actual job title in an actual company that folks might recognize.

You: Good, good. And how does that make you feel?

Me: Um, insecure?

You: Now we're getting somewhere. How does that make you feel?

OK enough of the role playing. I'm about ready to punch you. You should never have become my involuntary therapist! But really, I find myself drawn like a magnet to the security and stability of a "real" job. And then there's the no health care thing.

Every time I bring this topic up with Mark he's all "I thought we already had this discussion". Well yes. Yes we did. And I'm allowed to waffle! So how do I demagnetize myself? How do I push past the need for security and free fall into a commitment to self-employment? Any ideas? Anyone?

Poke U

2010-09-13T06:58:00.006-05:00

Go Pokes! Great game on Saturday. At least that was the general consensus. Football in any form makes my eyes roll back in my head. I used to try to be attentive - act like I care. But no. I really just don't.

The good thing about Saturday's game was that I was there in person, so the eyes stayed mainly in their sockets. I know when one of the dudes in orange appears to be running at high speed towards one of the goal posts that it's a good thing and I can cheer him on with the best of them. I know that when the old dude in the stripey pajamas puts his hands straight above his head it's a good thing. That would be a touch down and that is good news. Otherwise, I have a hard time following the ball or the game. My sister was a cheerleader one year in high school and I remember trying gamely to learn the rules. Something about first and down or fourth and down. I don't think they can go past four downs before they have to either get the stripey pajama guy to do his thing or politely give the ball to the other guys in the weird pants and Arnold Schwarzenegger shoulders.

It was a good occasion for hanging out with family though.

It was Dad's Day but we all butted in and went anyway. As my sister Shari said, "I didn't know cuteness was so important at these things." Probably because we were hanging out with the sorority bunch...or the pretty girls from the flag corp.

OSU Cousins! Do they not look like they could be sisters? I guess if their mothers are identical twins then genetically they are half sisters right? Anyone?

So other than hanging out with the beautiful people, I've just been working away saving the world one dollar at a time. The gig with United Way is going well. We mercifully finished training, have been assigned our sectors and accounts, and are busy raising those dollars. I've been assigned the entire education sector, which means I'm covering all the large school districts in the city and many of the small ones. Which is cool. Except teachers don't really get paid much here in Oklahoma and what they do get paid they spend on their students. So let's just say I'm glad I don't get paid on commission. Don't get me wrong - educators are some of the most generous people I know. But you can only squeeze a dollar so tightly before it squirts out its last penny. I'm just sayin'.

In other news, I entered a writing contest and... well, I guess that's all the other news. I should get the results in about six weeks, at which point I will have forgotten all about it.

Hope you have a great week! Hugs to all!!

The rest of the story

2010-08-31T07:24:00.007-05:00

Let me introduce you to the children I spoke of in my last post. The ones who got off the bus just in time to witness the scuffle and cuffing of a homeless dude? Turns out those children are homeless as well. As Paul Harvey taught us, there's almost always "the rest of the story".

Yesterday I started the three month job with United Way as a Loaned Executive. We train for a week and yesterday was the first of those training days. The entire afternoon was spent riding around on a big bus and touring some of the nonprofits that are Partner Agencies and receive funds from the United Way. I thought I knew about most of the nonprofits in this city. It's sort of my thing. But no. I do not know about ALL of the nonprofits in this city. Did you know there is an elder shelter here? Did you know we needed a shelter for elderly folks fleeing abuse or neglect or who have simply been abandoned? A fragile and vulnerable senior would not survive in a typical homeless shelter, so Sunbeam Services operates a nice shelter in a home environment. They only have room for nine, and they stay pretty full.

One gentleman told us his story. While he was in the hospital for surgery (he had throat cancer) his family divided up his stuff, took all his money, and left him for dead. With nowhere to go after the surgery, he came to the elder shelter where they supported him through radiation treatment and recovery until he was able to get out on his own. He's now a dedicated volunteer and considers the Sunbeam family his family.

Then there's the woman who was abandoned by her husband. Former missionaries, they had no assets, no money, no home. Her husband apparently just drove off and left her stranded. Who does that?

Anyway, back to those kids at the library. They are from a school called Positive Tomorrows. We toured their facility and I was like, wait a minute. This name sounds really familiar. That was the name on the bus at the library. Positive Tomorrows is a school for homeless children. Here's what their website says:

Positive Tomorrows is a private, tuition-free school for homeless children,
kindergarten through 5th grade. Our students face significant academic and
social delays due to missing school and chaotic living conditions–such as living
in shelters, on the streets or bouncing from couch to couch. It’s our goal to
bring them up to speed socially and academically so that when they transition
into public school, they will be successful throughout their years in school as
well as life. When we empower them through their education, they begin to see
life outside of poverty and homelessness. Positive Tomorrows is their Sanctuary
of Hope.

And remember that I was complaining that our city needs a place for homeless folks to go during the day (other than the library) - a place where they can receive actual services and helpful support and information? Another place we toured yesterday was the office of the Homeless Alliance. They are this very moment building a day center that will house numerous agencies and support services. It will be a place where homeless folks can go during the day (they must leave the shelters for the daytime hours) to get the services they need, get out of the heat or cold, etc. How cool is that!

I just thought it was interesting how the experience and questions from a few days ago wrapped around to meet the experiences of yesterday. I have to say I was impressed by every place we visited. Good job, Oklahoma City!!

Beware: Rant Ahead

2010-08-27T17:44:00.006-05:00

I had a Groupon to the Olive Branch Cafe in downtown OKC, so Mark and I went there for lunch today. Go there if you like Mediterranean food. The decor is early 1980s but the food is great! The waiter/busboy/cashier guy said there was going to be another online coupon coming up next week. I think he said it would be on LivingSocial. Tip: If you hurry and go to the site today you too can join the 103 thrifty folks who have snatched up a coupon for a Brazilian wax for $25. Wait, I just double checked and it's TWO Brazilian waxes for $25. So I guess you can...bring a friend? Awkward.

After the nice lunch, we had an hour or so to spare before going to a movie so we walked a few blocks to the downtown branch of the library. We each had a short list of things to discuss and it has proven to be helpful to put a time and date on the calendar and get out of the house for these little meetings. Otherwise they never happen. We didn't have anything earth-shattering to talk about - just mundane stuff like finances - and the library has nice tables and a nice sunny atrium. Good idea, right? Wrong.

Is it politically incorrect to complain that the homeless population has taken over a really nice facility? I was so very disappointed. Our quiet discussion was suddenly interrupted by a man yelling obscenities and throwing chairs. Followed by more yelling while being evicted by the police assigned to the library. The guy came back for a few more "words", punches were thrown, then just as a class of uniformed elementary school children got off their bus and lined up to enter the library the guy was on the ground with a police officer yelling threats about tazing. The offender was eventually subdued, handcuffed, and hauled out of the library. And I thought talking too loudly was the worst offense in a library.

I hope that's not a daily event, for the library staff's sake. They looked pretty unimpressed though. This morning I read about a proposed four percent increase in pay for library employees. I certainly hope they get it. Maybe they should add hardship pay for those who work in the downtown branch. Our informal survey showed that a minimum of 2 of every 3 downtown library patrons were homeless, judging by the lack of bathing and the accompanying plastic bags filled with belongings.

While stepping gingerly around the prone and soon to be cuffed man, I noted a poster detailing the library's code of conduct. It was a very long list of behaviors that are banned at the library. Among the most notable were rules against using obscenities, hitting others, throwing things, using the restrooms to bathe or do laundry, and entering the library if you have a communicable disease or lice - all behaviors we witnessed today. Well, except the communicable disease and lice part. Those are difficult to observe, but I can say we did not sit on any of the upholstered chairs.

Do I sound like some uppity suburbanite beotch? Mostly I was dissappointed and maybe a little nostalgic. We used to love taking our daughters to the library. We would all find a stack of good books and a chair and enjoy an hour of free and peaceful entertainment on a hot summer day. It's a school day, so of course there were very few children there today, but where were the college students, the retired folks, the mothers with small children, the employees from surrounding businesses stopping by to grab a good book on their lunch hour?

They were at Barnes and Noble or at home or in their office reading from their laptop, iPad, or Kindle, that's where. Is the public library going the way of bus and train stations and some public parks? Can libraries survive in the age of internet and electronics? Is the line between the poor and middle class being drawn at public vs. commercial?

Dan Walters is director of the Las Vegas-Clark County Public Library in Nevada. Quoted in an article for the Library Journal, Walters believes 'People liked hanging out at Borders and Barnes & Noble more than their local library. What does that say to us?... There's obviously something about the ambiance [at bookstores] that they find appealing.'

After today I'd say "ambiance" is definitely a key component to a successful library experience.

Is it stealing if it was put out for the trash?

2010-08-23T10:30:00.007-05:00

Good morning from the closet office. So I have a question. I wanted a new chair, or at least a more comfortable chair, for my closet office. Right now my desk is at standing height, which is nice when my back is screaming at me to get up and unkink. I have to use a bar stool to sit at the desk, which is OK, except my feet dangle about six inches from the floor and that's not very comfortable. So I was thinking of lowering the desktop to normal sitting height and getting a comfortable chair. Except...there's that unemployed, counting our pennies thing. So I really can't buy the Herman Miller chair I want.

This is not the Herman Miller chair I had in mind!

And neither is this one, but love the ingenuity! (Photos and designs from Eames Hack)

Here's the question. Is it OK to take stuff that your neighbor has put out for the trash? Because one of my neighbors had a Herman Miller knock-off desk chair on his lawn next to his trashcan this morning. I say "had" because it is now in my garage. It was on the grass! Next to the trashcan! You can't tell me he accidentally left it out there when he was ... doing what? What do you do while sitting in a desk chair by the curb next to your trash can? It must have been intended for the trash, right?

So why did I feel so guilty while hauling it the length of a couple of houses after my morning walk? It's not like I took it out of his garage!

Anyway, my barely breathed prayer for a new chair was answered this morning. Now I just have to lower my desk top and put the bar stool back at the breakfast bar where it belongs. Unless you think I should take the chair back and confess.

Today I'm trying to plan out the final week of my unintentional sabbatical. I'm starting a three month gig with United Way next week as a loaned executive for their annual giving campaign. Only, obviously, I'm not loaned from any company like most of the loaned executives. Fortunately they have a plan for those of us who are more like freelancers. I'm looking forward to it!

But that makes this week the final week of what has turned into a two month time of evaluating my life's work, resting, reading, doing sprint remodels on a few rooms in the house, and annoying the holy heck out of my self-employed husband. I can't be bothering him too much though, since he has been out of town working with clients a lot recently.

Wait a minute! Hold the phone! I get it now. Fine mister. You just go off to California and Maryland and Texas. I'll still be here when you get back. And I'm working on a to-do list in my head right now. You can run, but you can't hide!

Just kidding about the to-do list. Yes, I am tormented by an eternal to-do list in my head, like a revolving credit account. When you get one thing checked off that just makes room for another entry. But I typically take care of the things on my own list and leave Mark out of it. Typically. But not always. Love you sweetie! *blows kisses*

Today the list in my head is long, but full of delightful things. Maybe they are delightful because I don't have to do a single one of them. Luxurious!

Where's Waldo?

2010-08-19T10:59:00.004-05:00

Cari, Oh Cari
Where have you been?
I've been to London to see the Queen

Cari, Oh Cari
What did you there?
I frightened a mouse
from under her chair

OK not really, but I do feel a little like Mother Goose. Or the old woman who lived in a shoe. My motherly duties have brought me great joy and buckets of sweat in the last week. That is why I have been absent from bloggerland and I think it's a pretty darn good excuse. Wow. Someones feeling a little defensive.

While I would love to provide you with all kinds of awesome photos, photoshopped to perfection, of my activities of late, I lost my camera a while back and now only have my phone with which to take photos. And although my phone takes photos, it does not want to give them up so that I can share them with you. Turns out I needed to have bought a media card to go in my phone if I wanted to get the pictures out of my phone. One questions why my phone is enabled to take pics if I can neither email them nor download them. But one also questions why the sky is blue, why Joe Biden cannot self-censor, and why cupcakes can't be calorie free.

Where have I been?

3 days: washing dishes and setting tables with the other mom and alum volunteers at Tessa's sorority during rush week. Which led to the question - why does it take an industrial dishwasher two minutes to wash a load of dishes when it takes the dishwasher in my kitchen a full hour.

The girls displayed their smart, beautiful and accomplished selves and did an awesome job on recruitment. I think they are feeling very proud of and excited about their new recruits and have actually now gotten some sleep. We volunteers displayed our servant selves, our sweat pants and T-shirt selves, and were decidedly less beautiful but still had fun bonding in the heat of the kitchen.

1 morning: cheering Angela as she competed in the Hillapalooza Sprint Triathlon. Seriously I do not know whose child she is. It just goes to show that no matter how you were raised, you can still be your own individual self. She was definitely not raised to be a triathlete. In this case nature wins out over nurture in the eternal social debate.

1 day: volunteering at Angela's new school, putting desks together before opening day. It's tough getting a brand new school all ready! There are a million little details. I'm proud of her ability to roll with it and successfully teach a room full of 5th graders with no textbooks or other resources. Hopefully she will get access to her boxes of teacher stuff this weekend and be fully resourced by Monday.

1 day to prepare for and teach the first night of one of the university courses I teach.

Somewhere in there I managed to celebrate my 49th birthday. Happy birthday to me. And to my twin sister, Shari.

Aaannd now we're back to Friday. I think it might be a lay-by-the-pool day. I'm worn out!

Weeds

2010-08-10T08:00:00.009-05:00

I was planning to go to Stillwater to help out in the kitchen at Tessa's sorority today. It's rush week and somebody has to fill those water glasses!! But apparently they don't need me until tomorrow, so I have an unexpected free day. So then I was planning to sleep in until a luxurious hour but was rudely awakened by men unloading sheeting for a neighbors new roof. One (boom) sheet of plywood (boom) at a time (boom) dropping from the (boom) high bed of the (boom) truck to the (boom) ground for thirty (boom-freaking) minutes. So much for being decadent. Guess I'll go weed the frighteningly weedy flower bed.

Lessons on Leadership and Life Learned While Weeding the Flower bed.

Did I lose you already with that title? Hang on. It'll be fun. Have I ever bored you before? Don't answer that. I'm feeling a little thin-skinned these days.

Annnyyway, here's my list, because the brain has to do something while yanking weeds.

1) Don't wait until the heat is on

Weeding is fun until the sun jumps over the neighbor's house and leers down in all her searing glory. Just a minute ago I was noting the soft breeze and the lack of sweat and feeling all holier-than-thou about being up so early and channeling Martha Stewart when BOOM. The sun is up and the sweat is on.

The LLLL? (Lessons on Leadership and Life Learned...gotta love alliteration!)
The moment you become conscious of the fact you just patted yourself on the back for being such an awesome manager/parent/person, slather on the sunscreen because the heat is on even though you don't yet feel the burn. That's not being glass-is-half-empty. That's being realistic. To avoid the sweat, take the time while it's cool and calm to proactively pull the weeds. Start early. Or better yet, mulch to avoid the weeds in the first place. Start the day doing the big picture stuff. Then when the sun comes up you'll be safely in the shade drinking your mimosa. Stephen Covey's 7 Habits never go out of style. The first three habits apply here.

Habit 1: Be Proactive
Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind
Habit 3: Put First Things First

Also read: Julie Morgenstern's "Never Check Email in the Morning".

2) Don't let the dogs out

I'm trying to weed and meditate but Winnie keeps nudging my arm, begging for attention. She's needy this week since we are taking care of the grand-puppy. God forbid four adults should divide our attention between (gasp) two dogs. While not being needy, the dogs are barking at cats, real or imagined. Since I'm weeding under the in-laws bedroom window, I'm trying to shush the dogs with a commanding whisper. Every parent has mastered the whithering look and commanding whisper. Turns out neither is helpful when dealing with dogs. When they aren't barking or pooping, they are walking through the flowerbed. Why did I let the dogs out?

The LLLL?
Who are the dogs that keep me from doing my thing? Who or, more likely, what is distracting, needy, sabotaging, attention-diverting? Where or when do I waste my time shoveling the s*&t when I could be fertilizing?

See:
"Married to Distraction: Restoring Intimacy and Strengthening Your Marriage in an Age of Interruption"

"Defeating the 8 Demons of Distraction: Proven Strategies to Increase Productivity and Decrease Stress"

3) "Don't sweat the small stuff" is not always a good plan

The sun is up, it's hot, the dogs are needy, I clearly am running out of steam. So what's the plan? I think I'll just try to pull the biggest weeds to make the most obvious difference. I can't see the garden for the trees. No really. Those annoying starter trees that grow from little seed pods blown by the Oklahoma wind? Everywhere. But I am apparently constitutionally unable to pull the big stuff and ignore the smaller weeds choking the flowers. I want for at least a small portion of the garden to be weed free and beautiful. My mantra "just pull the big ones, just pull the big ones" is not working. I HAVE to go back and pull ALL the weeds in that section before moving on.

The LLLL?
Sometimes it's OK to focus on the minutia at the (temporary) expense of the big picture. Some wise person once said it's better to do a few things well than a bunch of stuff half-assed. Err, something like that. In a perfect world we would have time to do all things well. But this is definitely an imperfect world. And "things" have multiplied exponentially. So I'm thinking I'm gonna have to narrow it down, pick a few, focus. And what about those towering distractions? They'll die off on their own, I suppose. Even if I have to ignore them until the first frost.

In which I pretend I'm a celebrity blogger

2010-08-05T09:30:00.006-05:00

So yesterday I was in New York doing a photo shoot for a major magazine when I happened to run into Gwyneth Paltrow. I was all, hey guuurlfriend, remember me?

Oh wait, that's another blog.

But really, I'm so thrilled to have the opportunity to be in New York with my studly husband, just hanging out and getting the chance to cook one of my favorite recipes on the Today Show. Again.

Mmm, yeah. Another blog all together.

Really I got nothin'. Nothing exciting to share with you to demonstrate my crazy life as a celebrity blogger. I am at this moment watching another rerun of Ellen, babysitting my niece's sweet baby, Rylan, while her mama is at work, dog sitting my grand puppy while Angela and Riley are lounging beside a rushing river in Durango, Colorado. Cool, cool Colorado. Later I'll remind my precious mother-in-law that yes, the dentist did say to actually wear her new dentures. That he did not, in fact, tell her she should take them in and out frequently.

Her dementia is worsening rapidly and it's scary and sad and frustrating all at once. It's enough to break your heart

Hey, I just discovered something really awesome. First let me tell you that we have this closet off of our bedroom that has just been the gathering place for all our junk that we were too lazy to find a proper home for. For which we were too lazy to find a proper home. Is that grammatically correct? So I needed a computer since I'm home all the time and wanting a place of my own. We recently fixed up our spare room into an office space and Mark has taken it as his. He has been working from home for about a year, he's easily distracted, and I'm happy for him to have his own space. I'd really prefer he have a man cave somewhere, but I'm happy he has taken that room as his own.

So back to the closet. We emptied it out, painted it and made it a tiny little office and I LOVE IT! Lu-hu-ve it! If I hadn't lost my camera I'd take a picture for you. It's so cute and everything is within easy reach. I bought one of those all-in-one computers where all you do is bring it home, take it out of the box and plug it in. So cool.

BUT! But! It's not a laptop and I can't sit on the comfy leather love seat and watch TV while I use it. So finally I'm getting to the really awesome thing I just discovered. I just figure out that I can use the remote keyboard FROM THE LOVE SEAT!!! How cool is that?! I can't really SEE what I'm typing, so I'll have to go back and do some major editing before I post this. But isn't that cool!

OK, come on. You gotta give me this one. It's probably the most exciting thing that will happen to me today. We can't all be glamorous, celebrity bloggers!

Happiness is subjective

2010-08-03T13:43:00.005-05:00

How happy are you? Dr. Oz wants to know. You know who he is, right? The doctor dude that shows up on Oprah occasionally and talks about poop and ingrown toenails and other inappropriate topics. The one who doesn't wear a t-shirt under his scrubs. Sorry, that's a personal preference but it really annoys me when a guy is walking around in a v-neck scrub top without a t-shirt under it.

OK so back to happiness. How happy are you? Dr. Oz has a couple of handy little tools to help you assess your happiness, in case the thought that you might be low on the happiness scale is keeping you up at night. Here's a sample question. You are supposed to select the number on the scale that represents your level of happiness on the "Subjective Happiness Scale"...

1. In general, I consider myself (circle one):

Not a very happy person -- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 -- A very happy person

Hmmm. I need my happiness scale to be a little more defined. Something like...

1. In general, I consider myself (circle one):

ecstatic jubilant joyful convivial cheerful perky chipper pleasant upbeat optimistic realistic disagreeable fretter bellyacher malcontent pessimistic surly curmudgeonly miserable morose

There - now you have so many more options that are far more descriptive. Dr. Oz suggests starting out his 28 day plan for happiness by spending the first week journaling about the occurrences, people or situations that make you happiest and then, well, do more of those things.

Personally I prefer to be like the Danes. Denmark is the happiest place on earth, according to an annual survey by Leicester University in England. The USA ranks a pessimistic 23rd. But why are the Danish so happy? It's cold there and it's really tiny! Survey says...the good folks from Denmark are happier because they have low expectations. Yep, they figure things will turn out badly and when things turn out well, they are delighted by the positive turn of events.

Sounds like a good plan to me. But as a backup plan, I guess I'll go make a list of things that make me happy and try to put more of those things into my day. Couldn't hurt.

T.G.I.F.

2010-07-30T07:58:00.004-05:00

Thank God it's Friday! For that matter, thank God it was Tuesday or Wednesday. Every day is a Friday around here. It's been a busy week, what with all the HGTV to watch. Ok, don't get all sanctimonious on me. I have actually been looking for meaningful employment. I've also enjoyed taking time to breathe deeply, to spend time with Angela while she has some time off before heading back to the classroom full of 5th graders, to organize my personal files, to play, to pray, to read. Even though I'm home every day right now, there's still a special feeling about Fridays. I'm going to enjoy this one and make the most of another day of choices. Have a great weekend!

Job Schmob...who needs one

2010-07-28T08:16:00.003-05:00

I can finally feel myself breaking through the post-job-loss fog. I'm greeting each new day with a bit of anticipation instead of wondering what the H.E.Doubletoothpick just happened. In fact, I could get used to this. So many hours for being crafty, reading favorite blogs, creating websites . Too much fun. I wonder if people ever actually make money on their etsy shops. I spent hours out in the sweltering garage yesterday making artwork for Angela's classroom interspersed with hours of creating things in Photoshop, Flash and InDesign. And yes, I did a little job searching too. Even had a phone interview. Go me.

It's the creative stuff that puts me in the energy-gain area, as opposed to energy-drain activities like waiting on hold with the unemployment office for hours. I could create all day, but when I've finished a project I feel a little like I did back in first grade bringing home that little clay bowl and presenting it proudly to my mother. I thought it looked amazing and my mother, God bless her, proudly displayed the misshapen thing. But I know that the only beauty in it was the inherent beauty of anything crafted by a child's small hands. Certainly there was no commercial beauty.

Truthfully, something has value only because someone has assigned value to it. But who gets to choose what is valuable and what is not? Who decides what beauty is or is not? Think of Crocs for example. Truly any value they possess is in the eyes of the beholder!

I'm going to think on this today...the true value of activities or things. Which comes first - the value or the beauty? Hmmm.

"We do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence, but we rather have those because we have acted rightly" Aristotle

Feelin' Groovy

2010-07-26T11:01:00.004-05:00

What is that noise? I don't recognize it. Wait. It seems familiar in a hazy, I've heard that somewhere before but I can't place it sort of way. Reaching back into the hidden compartments of the middle-aged woman's brain...almost have it...there it is! That sound is

SILENCE!

Tessa has gone back to her college town, Mark is working at a client's office, the in-laws haven't emerged from their room yet. Silence. Blessed, glorious sound of silence. Ahhh.

The Sound of Silence. Great, now I have Simon & Garfunkle lyrics stuck in my head. "Hello darkness my old friend. I've come to talk to you again." I once knew the words to every song on the Simon & Garfunkle's Greatest Hits album.

"And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know...Wowowo"

"I am a rock, I am an i-iii-land. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries"

Rocks, islands, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Why did we love these songs so much? Maybe because the tunes were catchy and the lyrics easy to understand? All I know is that when I'm old and senile I'll still be able to bust out a chorus of "Feelin' Groovy".

Funny how a time or place or feeling can be conjured up by a song. I can see it now. All of us Generation Jonesers in the assisted living facility calling down the spirits of our youth. We'll be gathered around the pajama-clad dude - the one who managed to salvage an old guitar from the yard sale the day all of his worldly goods were spread out on the lawn to be sold to strangers with pockets full of rumpled dollar bills. He can still remember the chords and we all join in. "Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down". Then we move on to Elton John with a little "Rocket Man" as we rock in our chairs, nod knowingly, and sing "I think it's gonna be a long, long time".

Yawn...

2010-07-23T07:38:00.008-05:00

Did you happen to see the above definition on The Pioneer Woman's blog? I've always liked that word. Ahn-wee. When I read it I realized - that's what it is! That's the feeling that has overpowered me in the last few weeks - which were, of course, the first few weeks of unemployment. It's that feeling of meh, whatever, not really interested. It's episodes of staring into space for long periods of time. A general malaise. A fog. Listlessness. Languor. I suppose it could be the searing July heat. Or possibly the muscle relaxers my doctor prescribed for the relentless back pain. Ohhhh, now I get it!

I mean, it's not like I'm just sitting on my couch picking stray dog hairs off my stretchy pants all day long. I've been sending out those resumes and even had an interview. I've volunteered with my sister on behalf of the nonprofit we formed together. This summer we are providing recreation at the WINGS summer camp for young adults with developmental disabilities. Those young folks can really get their dance on!

I've created and tweaked a few websites. I've actually been to the gym. The living room has been repainted. I've waited on hold with the unemployment office for hours and given my medical history in great detail to the insurance company so we can get some coverage after mine goes away at the end of the month. I've harvested veggies from my first-time-I-ever-planted-one garden. I've sorted through digital photos I'd forgotten I had. Remember this?

That's son-in-law Riley using his Okie ice scraper. Put down the credit card and go find a real ice scraper!!

OK, after reading the above I guess I'm feeling a little better about the things that have occupied the last few weeks. Hopefully the malaise will lift and meaningful employment will come in good time. But right now I think I'll go take a nap because I CAN!

Once a mom, always a mom... I just can't help it!

2010-07-17T14:52:00.009-05:00

It's that time of year when mothers everywhere, or at least in North America, start dragging themselves out of the summertime lethargy that hit back in March and begin thinking of back-to-school shopping. Now days schools post classroom supply lists on their websites. When I was a kid we just bought the standard lined notebook paper or Big Chief tablet, pencils, erasers, scissors, paste, maybe a new ruler and one of those little zip bags to put the pencils and erasers in. In High School we bought Trapper Keepers to keep all our stuff organized. That typically lasted about one week.

From http://www.flickr.com/photos/briankusler/4519605551/

"Overheard today:'The iPad is just a Trapper Keeper for adults!' "

These days I don't have to fight the other mothers at Walmart for school supplies. But I've been busy the last few days shopping for "back-to-school". Yesterday Tessa and I accomplished a feat thought impossible - we bought all the necessary clothing, shoes and accessories for sorority recruitment week in one afternoon. Since Tessa is now a senior, it was the last such shopping trip and we are quite proud to go out with a record-breaking day. (Note to self: Remember to sign up to help in the sorority house kitchen during rush!)

And then there's the elder daughter...With a teacher for a daughter, back-to-school shopping springs eternal. I'm pretty sure Angela still has enough tissues, glue and anti-bacterial wipes to supply the entire 5th grade. I did pull the mom card when H1N1 was a daily presence in the news last fall and lecture her on how the anti-bacterial wipes and hand-gel were doing no one any good shut into her classroom cabinet. So maybe take the wipes off the list.

Is it weird that I enjoy helping her set up and decorate her classroom? Maybe it's that latent teacher in me from my days of playing school in Susan's basement. These days I love going into the teacher's work room and playing with the little machine that cuts letters and shapes. Angela's not a big bulletin board fan so I'm all "pick me, pick me" when it comes time to set those up. (Those over-eager kids were always so annoying!)

This year we are dreaming up fun artwork to go on the virgin walls of her brand new classroom in the shiny new school where she will be teaching. Left to my own devices I'd furnish a whole little reading corner, complete with a kid-sized sofa and beanbags galore. But since that's not in the budget, I contented myself with shopping Goodwill for used books with cool artwork for the mixed-media creation we're planning.

Now I'm feeling nostalgic and thinking I might have to dig out some "first day of school" photos. Or go smell some freshly-sharpened pencils. Or maybe go open a fresh box of crayons.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/akacreativity/634022438/

SKUNK!!

2010-07-14T06:47:00.005-05:00

photo from http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/is-that-skunk/do-skunks-make-good-pets/4569/

Just me and the skunk this morning, hanging out on the patio. I've been wondering why Winnie (the dog) is so interested in our garden shed lately! Now I know. A cute little kitty with a white stripe down her back has made her home behind said shed.

Yesterday I called animal control to arrange for a little help. The man who answered the phone informed me that skunks were wild animals. Um, yes sir. Yes they are. You have indeed put your finger on the reason for my call.

The city animal control does not, apparently, control wild animals in the city. Domesticated - yes. Wild - no.

I then called someone advertising themselves as an outfit that could help me with my potentially odorific problem. They prefer enticing the skunk out of its home, then once it's gone, filling in the hole and skunk-proofing the property. For a mere $300, ma'am. Or, if I just want to get rid of the skunk (insert disapproving tone) he could put me in contact with Trapper Dave.

So right now we still hold our collective breath every time we let the dog out into the yard. I'm a little less enthusiastic about wandering out to my garden at dawn to pick my beautiful tomatoes. Speaking of tomatoes, I read that the use of tomato juice after being sprayed by a skunk is not all that helpful. The Skunk Whisperer recommends a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and liquid dish soap. Maybe I should assemble an emergency kit just in case.

I'm sure I could draw some life lesson from all of the above for your/my edification... something about keeping the mental and spiritual fences mended, not allowing pesky thoughts and attitudes to burrow in your head - making them that much harder to get rid of, calling in an expert when needed...

Nah. I'll leave that up to you. Although I would be interested in knowing what your "emergency kit" is for keeping the unwanted and potentially malodorous attitudes out of your life.

While you're contemplating these deep thoughts, you can watch an episode of Nature- "Is That Skunk?" Interesting!!

Weekends and family

2010-07-12T07:24:00.005-05:00

Photo: Reuters.com

Without a job to organize my week, I've been a little confused about what day it is. I believe this is Monday, which means I had a really great weekend, since that would make yesterday Sunday and the day before that Saturday. Brilliant reasoning, I know.

Family is what made the weekend special. My dad came in from Colorado and my aunt and uncle from Kansas to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Bethany Schools. Mom hosted about 30 ladies at her house for a reunion luncheon. They were all so cute! And noisy!!! Put 30 women in a room, some who haven't seen each other for 50 years, and the noise level rivals a stadium full of vuvuzelas.

I have that word - vuvuzela - stuck in my head. There is something about it that just rolls off the tongue. Kind of like Bafana Bafana, South Africa's national football (soccer) team. Just hearing Bafana Bafana catapults me back to the year we lived in Johannesburg. While living there I never once, however, encountered a vuvuzela. Plenty of ululation, but no vuvuzelas. I love onomatopoetic words almost as much as I love a good palindrome.

Anyway, before I got distracted by "fun with words" I was talking about family. I'm grateful that we are continuing to gather in Oklahoma. Niece Cori is in town to interview for a job that would bring her into the circle of cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents that are slowly assembling here. Her friends in Colorado purportedly can't understand why she would want to live in this state. After living many, many place, I can tell them why it's a good place to live. It's a good place to live because that's where family is. End of story.

If they can put a man on the moon...

2010-07-08T06:34:00.004-05:00

I spent yesterday messing around with computers and realized they are a lot like goats. They will eat any garbage fed to them, have a strong tendency towards orneriness, and they don't like to be pushed. Goats also urinate on themselves to impress a potential mate, but that doesn't really translate to the computer comparison. It's just disgusting.

You buy a computer and it's all shiny and new and super cooperative. But after what seems like a ridiculously short time it starts to slow down and exhibit anti-social behavior. I'm pretty sure that defrag thing you are supposed to do to clean up files makes the operator feel like she is accomplishing something but has little real value. There is one area where goats and computers differ, however. Unlike a goat's lifespan of about 15 years, a computer can be expected to last approximately three years if it's never connected to the Internet and rarely sees the light of day.

If we can put a man on the moon, why can't we create a computer that is more resilient, longer lasting and cooperative?

People my age love to say "if we can put a man on the moon, why can't we fix *insert annoying problem*. In 1969 we sat in front of our black and white televisions and stared transfixed as men actually did walk on the moon - a feat so impressive and unfathomable that it became the symbol for the impossible made possible.

What recent event has been so impressive, so paradigm shifting, that it will be used as a benchmark for generations to come? I'll have to think about that one.

In the mean time, jump over to one of my favorite Generation X blogs where I'm a guest contributor today.

I wish I hadn't just watched iRobot!

2010-07-06T09:19:00.012-05:00

photo: nydn.org

Did you see the story about the 90-something woman who exhumed her dead husband and dead twin sister, propped them on separate couches in her tidy little home, and enjoyed little chats about her day while drinking tea? I made up the tea part. She's more of a vodka tonic kinda gal. OK, I made that part up too. I did NOT make up the dead people part.

The article didn't say whether Miss Jean had any children or church members to check up on her, although there apparently were neighbors who helped out. The investigators determined she was mentally healthy - except for the whole "I see dead people" thing.

The population of elderly folks is predicted to double before 2050, with most of the growth occurring between 2010 and 2030 when our Baby Boomer parents reach their elder years. These aging parents will need support and care from adult children. There's something called the parent-support ratio that I found...um...interesting. The ratio is predicted to be almost 3.5 "kids" aged 50-64 to care for every one parent over age 85. Of those elders over age 85 who are not "institutionalized", 50% need assistance with ordinary, everyday activities like bathing, cooking and getting around the home.

I think isolation is one of the biggest dangers for our elders. There is no substitute for face-to-face contact to help with the inevitable loneliness of living alone or to evaluate mental, spiritual and physical health. All I can say is, we're going to need some help!

Statistics from http://www.census.gov/apsd/www/statbrief/sb95_8.pdf

Vive la différence!

2010-07-04T08:34:00.007-05:00

Photo from newsok.com - http://newsok.com/oklahomans-celebrate-independence/multimedia/photos/gallery/3473520/1/

I have apparently taken on the roll of family event organizer, although it's a little like herding cats. Sometimes you just have to give up polling the masses, pick a place and time, and see who shows up. This July 4th has lived up to the herding challenge, and not just because of the usual need to take into account everyone's preferences and schedules.

First there's the Bible Belt challenge. Every time a major holiday falls on a Sunday, town councils get busy rearranging the corresponding events. I can see moving the 10:00 a.m. parade away from the Sabbath. Few will choose parade attending or marching over worshiping. One would not want to miss the patriotic medley carefully prepared by the music minister and choir. But was it necessary to reschedule the fireworks?

Then there's the weather challenge. Yesterday parades all over the city were rudely interrupted by an absolute downpour, sending teenage beauty queens and tuba players scrambling for shelter. Today promises more of the same, with sunshine mixed with drenching rain making it difficult to plan. Dear invited guests - please bring your swimsuit and rain poncho along with your covered dish.

Just when I think I have it all organized, plans start changing. That plan for family members to join OKC Kayaks on their social paddle down the Oklahoma River to view the fireworks in Bricktown? Canceled due to predicted bad weather. Why do I hear fireworks at 10:00 on Saturday night? Because Bethany is holding their fireworks display on July 3rd. I really need to read the paper. Do they print these things or are we just supposed to intuitively know it.

And then there are the personal preferences. I have a phobia about loud noises so if we watch fireworks, I'll be wearing noise-deadening headphones. I am a closet pyromaniac and will be spending a month's wages on things that go boom and need a place to blow stuff up. I (temporarily) don't have any teeth so I don't want to go out in public. I don't like being outside where there are bugs. I prefer to be outside participating in extreme sports. I don't like large crowds. It's exhausting!!

Come to think of it, I guess that's what this holiday is all about -celebrating living in a country where you can freely do as you choose. Today we'll celebrate the family diversity and celebrate the freedom. God bless America and pass the hot dogs. Or brisket. Or veggie burgers.

"You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism." - Erma Bombeck

Today is the first day of...yada yada yada

2010-07-02T09:30:00.003-05:00

Day two of unemployment. And no, I'm not planning to give you a rundown of each and every day as they begin to blend together in a never-ending series of "what do I do now". Today I woke up super anxious. That aching, nervous feeling in my belly greeted me about the time the sun came up. And considering we're only days on the other side of the summer solstice, the sun appears very, very early. Well, not as early as it does in say, Minsk, but early enough.

It's sort of a nameless, panicky nervous. I mean, I have no responsibilities whatsoever. What could I possibly be all jittery about. Oh yeah, the mortgage, the car payments, one more year of college. We were doing so well on our plan to be relatively debt free with two college-educated offspring by this time next year. God, please don't let that plan go down the toilet.

Good think God listens to disjointed shout outs. Because right now I have the attention span of my grandpuppy, and that's not very impressive.

I need to go downstairs and help my precious mother-in-law get ready to go to the dentist. We're down ten teeth from a month ago. Those suckers just keep breaking off. No sooner do we settle on a treatment plan with the dentist and another couple teeth bite the dust. Or a cracker. Or a peanut. It doesn't seem to take much.

Because we're also dealing with deepening dementia (not me - her. But wait a month...) it has been difficult to coax her to the dentist or even keep her partials in her mouth. I'm hoping today we can find something that works for her. One can only eat so much applesauce and cottage cheese!

And yes, it's a rare blogger who can find a way to work cottage cheese into a blog post.

This could be a very good thing. Or this could suck big time.

2010-07-01T13:52:00.002-05:00

Hello my BFFs. After a couple of months of craziness at work, dealing with funding cuts and budget cuts, I find myself suddenly and unexpectedly unemployed. So I'm all yours, my Internet buddies. We'll spend leisurely afternoons exploring scintillating topics. What? You have a job? Oh yeah - that thing I had yesterday.

I'm hoping the pain in my back and the stiffness between my shoulder blades and the irritable bowel eases now. I've been trying to figure out how to lessen the stress. Remember how I talked about needing a sabbatical? Handed to me on a platter.

Suddenly the long list of things I wanted to do has shortened to don't cry, don't cry and don't cry. Oh, and don't wallow in self pity. I'm sure in a day or two the other things on that list will come back to populate my stunned brain. But for today, my major task is to read all the magazines that have piled up on the table beside my bed, and to alternate between heat and ice packs to soothe the back. If only there was an icepack to soothe the bruised ego.

I wasn't born yesterday!

2010-04-15T07:37:00.004-05:00

I am a huge cynic. Shocking, I know. I'm the first to question email forwards. No, Microsoft is not doing an email beta test. No, a U.S. President was not stupid enough to order the firing of half the cattle guards in Colorado. And people! Do NOT send money to anyone emailing you from Nigeria. When Starbucks gave away free pastries a few weeks ago, I assumed it was because they were trying to get rid of the stale stuff they had overflowing in their corporate freezers by passing them off to us unsuspecting caramel machiato addicts. On the other hand, if the National Enquirer I'm reading in the check out line says Tiger Woods has multiple mistresses, I'm prone to believe it. Cynic R Us.

By the way, do you know what the plural noun is for a group of Tiger Woods' mistresses? A "skank" of mistresses. Haahaahaa. Gotta love NPR.

But I have to say I'm a bit disappointed with all the cynicism about the rescue of Nadia Bloom, the girl who was lost in alligator infested swampland in Florida. Her rescuer, James King, said he prayed and then God led him to Nadia. And God had to have been protecting that child during her five day odyssey. When asked how he felt, Nadia's dad said "I can't even describe it. Let's give the glory to God." So why are people questioning it - assuming it's a hoax. It's a sad commentary.

I guess it's what you can expect after the balloon boy debacle. We just don't want to be suckered in by yet another larger-than-life, too-good-to-be-true story. It's unfortunate on so many levels. Mostly, it's unfortunate that we feel the need to put God and His ability to provide miracles into our little, cynical box. Just for today, I'm going to try to put that box away. Want to join me?

An apple a day and other tall tales

2010-04-06T07:32:00.006-05:00

Let's talk about food, shall we? Have you been watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revol u tion? We became fans of Jamie, aka "The Naked Chef" back in our South Africa days. Anyway, back to his one-man revolution. He's hanging out in Huntington, West Virginia trying to change people's attitudes about food. It's not exactly the bastion of homemade granola and organic veggies there. Come to think of it, I'm surprised he didn't come to Oklahoma! We're ranked the 6th most obese state. West Virginia is third, so I guess they win. Here's what Jamie says...

"I believe that every child in America has the right to fresh, nutritious school
meals, and that every family deserves real, honest, wholesome food."

What? No more counting ketchup as a vegetable? No more pizza Fridays? I used to love pizza Fridays. And Mac and Cheese.

Eating healthy is an ongoing challenge. You know they say to shop the perimeter of the store to stick with the healthy foods, right? The bakery is on the perimeter! And so is the deli! Apparently "they" have never been to Homeland. "They" must have been hanging out at Whole Foods where, by shopping the perimeter they avoid the massive display of wine and other alcoholic beverages that are stronger than the 3.2 beer allowed to be sold in Oklahoma grocery stores.

In our house the men have eased into doing most of the cooking during the week. Hallelujah! Amen. I come home from work and the husband and the father-in-law are busy planning what to throw on the grill. Because real men only cook meat outdoors. And they try, really they do, to make balanced meals. Want a cinnamon roll and a baked potato with that pork chop?

Sometimes though, they just forget to eat. I KNOW! So strange. On Saturday they headed out to do their Saturday errands only to discover that the father-in-law hadn't had anything to eat - at 10:30 a.m. I'm sorry but my first waking thought, after "man I have to pee" is "what's for breakfast?". Mark got so busy doing yard work later in the day he forgot to eat lunch. Who ARE these people?

I guess it's up to us women to try to balance out the meat and potatoes diet. It was a man who started McDonald's. And Wendy's? Founded by a dude. The burger and fries is just another version of meat and potatoes. It's a man's food world out there. I've decided that back in the Garden of Eden, the fall of Man wasn't really all Eve's fault. The poor woman was just trying to add a little fruit to their diet.

Thank you, Joe Biden, for making me feel better about myself

2010-03-24T07:44:00.003-05:00

I just heard some great news. Middle aged women need to exercise one hour per day, every day, to maintain their weight. So what, two hours a day, every day, to lose weight? That's a big efing deal. What is wrong with that picture. What's wrong with it is that it ain't gonna happen.

In other exercise-related news, my teacher daughter, Angela, ran four and a half miles the other day. That's all in one run. Like she left the house and ran four and a half miles before coming back to the house. That's a big efing deal. No one in our family is a runner. No one. Until now.

And can we talk potty mouths? Good 'ol Joe Biden celebrated the signing of the health bill by whispering obscenities into President Obama's ear, and straight into an open mike. Every time I wish I could take back some rude comment I just threw out into the universe I think of our buddy Joe. He sets the bar pretty high for folks who enjoy a lack of self-censoring. I hear there are now t-shirts. That's a big efing deal.

Lastly in this scintillating blog post, it's going to be an expensive week. It takes a LOT of work to keep this middle aged woman presentable. Tomorrow is Hair Happiness Day, with a hair cut and highlights scheduled. And everyone in my life says, it's about time! Then I really, really need to stock up on all the cosmetics that camouflage my many deficiencies. I've let them all run out. There's another chunk of change.

My sister is a couponer, and is gloating right now about the hundreds of dollars she has saved on shampoo, deodorant and cosmetics. Gloat on, sister dear. Saving that much money is a big efing deal.

Today's post brought to you by potty mouths and open mikes everywhere.

Monday's Suck

2010-03-22T07:51:00.004-05:00

Oh the pain of returning to work after five glorious days off. Five whole days during which there was not one episode of panic, anger, or that anxious knot in the pit of my stomach. There was only sunshine, peace, yard work, cooking with the spring-breaking college daughter, a trip to Home Depot and the movies with the spring-breaking teacher daughter, coffee with my sister. A glorious, glorious lack of responsibility, obligations, and other annoying stuff. And even a snow storm to force us inside to entertain ourselves with baking and movies and napping. Cable Movies on Demand is a great invention.

Now it's back to business. Not only is today a full day at the office, but I somehow managed to agree to teach a university course for a month of Monday nights without checking the "Dancing With The Stars" schedule. What was I thinking? Hopefully there will be episodes on Hulu. Hulu is a great invention.

Happy Monday. And by happy Monday I mean Monday's suck. Too bad the odds of winning Power Ball are so ridiculous or I'd be hoping for some big money pay out to come rescue me. Of course, I'd have to actually buy a Power Ball ticket, which I think is a huge waste of money. Anyway, I guess I'm gonna have to rescue myself if I want to be rescued from the daily grind. There's got to be a way to work from home!

Hope you didn't come here for a cheerful dose of happiness. You should know me better than that! Check back in with me in a few hours and I will have successfully transitioned back into the real world and be less of a Debbie Downer. Plus I will have had a cup of coffee.

Irish Eyes Are Smiling

2010-03-17T09:13:00.004-05:00

It's spring break and it's St. Patrick's Day and I have a few days off from work.

Now you're all caught up. Buh-bye.

Just kidding. I'll throw out a few more thoughts in case you too are looking for filler material for Spring Break. What, you aren't competing in the Victoria's Secret bikini contest in Panama City? Not part of the MTV Spring Break cast in Acapulco? Not risking being murdered in a Mexico border town? Or maybe your parents are under the illusion they can still control your life and put the kibosh on those plans, and then your back-up plan to do relief work in Haiti didn't work out either. Sucks for you. But seriously, EVERYBODY is not on a beach somewhere for Spring Break. That's not statistically possible.

In a middle aged version of Spring Break, I'm considering planting a garden this week. Or at least digging up a garden plot and planting it after the threat of frost is over. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Sounds gardener-ish to me. So quick, somebody talk me out of it before I get myself in too deep. Since we now live together with the in-laws and my Father-in-law is a gardener from way back, I was hoping he could guide me through the process. Or maybe I should just find a good farmer's market. Or plant two tomato plants and call it good.

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I guess I'll go find something green to wear. There's Irish blood on Mark's side of the family just a couple of generations back, so we'll be doing a wee dance and drinking a pint 'o green tea. And I'll remember my own amazing Grandfather, who was born on March 17. Mark and I both have a good and Godly heritage that goes way back. We have a lot to build on.

But as the Irish say..."You've got your own growing to do, no matter how tall your Grandfather was."

The mind is a terrible thing to waste!

2010-03-10T19:24:00.004-06:00

Random list of things I miss:

My feet. Haven't seen them for a while.
My waist. See above.
Understanding the plot of LOST. There was a time that I was convinced I understood what was going on. I miss those days.
The sun. Haven't seen much of it this winter. I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from S.A.D. - Seasonal Affective Disorder. Symptoms include depression, (check), lack of energy, (check), increased need for sleep, (check), weight gain, (check), and a craving for sweets (check, check). Except I'm not sure about the seasonal part. Seems pretty self-descriptive 12 months out of the year.
Pixy Stix - I sucked those down when I was a kid. Nothing like a straw full of sugar to jump start your afternoon!
Gas station attendants - Yes children. Once upon a time, as a civilized nation, you simply drove up to the pump at the gas station, rolled down your window and said "fill 'er up" and the young man attending the pumps did just that. He also washed your windows and checked your oil while your tank was filling. I understand it's against the law to pump your own gas in Oregon.
Watches. Does anyone wear a watch any more? I think most people use their cell phones to keep track of time.

OK, now the list is just getting weird. Plus I'm starting to sound like one of those lists that get passed around the internet, like "why do you park cars on driveways and drive on parkways" or "why are there interstate highways in Hawaii?" This is what happens when I find myself hanging out for the evening in another small Oklahoma town. The mind goes to strange places.

The information you've been waiting for...or not

2010-03-05T07:44:00.003-06:00

I know you've been waiting to hear if we've used up all five of our free visits to the gym. I don't want to keep you in suspense any longer. The answer is...sort of. Technically there are still spaces on the back of my card for a few more free visits. But we have been going. Occasionally. A few times a week. I tried out a second gym earlier this week, which didn't count against my five freebies. So give me some credit. That's way more non couch time than we've been pulling in recent months. I actually broke a sweat the last couple of visits. Shocking! I haven't, however been able to bring myself to enter a formal class like zumba or spinning.

I heard a phrase the other day that I've been thinking on. Something about creating a healthy environment. Dang it, now I can't remember it exactly. The gist is that to be healthy one must surround yourself with healthy things, a healthy attitude, etc. I know that's not a new thought. Duh. But it's not something I do. My life is set up for sedentary chub-i-tude. I work at a desk and rarely get up. At night I watch TV or lounge around reading a book. To get to the carrots I have to push aside the cookies, glazed donuts and pie that regularly appear on our kitchen counter. Even the dog is too old and tired to exercise. It takes a massive amount of self-denial and inner fortitude to push against the chub tide.

I seriously did not set out to write yet another post on this topic. I'm going to start writing fascinating posts about my rock climbing experiences, my triathlon victories and my rock-star ability to just say no to cranberry orange scones.

Trouble is, all the writing gurus advise writing what you know.

Never too old

2010-03-03T07:42:00.000-06:00

I've been contemplating technology lately. Namely generational differences in technology. My hypothesis is that each new generation is not necessarily better with technology. I think it's more a case of its usefulness to each person. Maybe folks from the Baby Boomer generation have no use for things like Twitter or Facebook. Certainly those from "The Greatest Generation", parents of the Boomers, may not seem all that interested in setting up a Facebook account or texting on their smart phones. But perhaps it's just because they haven't explored the benefits.

Recently my father-in-law upgraded his cell phone and he now has texting capability. At age 84 he's learning the joy that is the efficiency of communicating in brief spurts and getting answers back without the extra stuff that comes with phone calls. He's very proud of himself and we're all very impressed. He hangs out on the internet for hours, checking his email and reading the news. Pretty impressive! He plays a mean Mario Kart too, when we take the Wii downstairs.

I took an online survey from the Pew Research Center, "How Millenial Are You?" (thanks JenX for pointing your readers that way). The closer you score to 73 the more you have in common with Millenials. I scored a 69! Most folks my age score in the twenties. I may be an anomaly, but I have a theory for that too. I have a lot of millenials in my life between offspring and co-workers. They all prefer texting and Facebook over phone calls or even emails, so I better adjust if I want to communicate.

According to FASTForward,"Generation Jones appears to be taking to social networking in a significant way, almost as much as Generation Xers, who already have a reputation for their computer savvy." Remember, GenJones was born at the end of the Baby Boomers in the late 1950's and early 1960's.

I'm happy to be connected through my smart phone with texting, Facebook and Twitter. When I'm in my 8th decade, I plan to still be connected to the world in new and interesting ways.
I want to be like Bernie.

Stop this train

2010-03-01T10:22:00.012-06:00

Just when we thought we slid by cold and flu season without getting noticed, Mark brought home something nasty. I was working out of town for three days at the end of last week, so I missed the worst of the groaning, moaning and near death experiences that are part of the male species' DNA when it comes to illness. I also apparently missed the same bug going around my office. So I'm thinking of taking myself to the spare bedroom and not coming out until June.

Speaking of going into a room and not coming out, I have decided I need a sabbatical. A hiatus. A period of rest. Academics do it - take a year or a semester off to rest, write a book, study abroad, regroup. The sabbatical year is not a new thought. Among the ancient Jews, during the seventh year the land and vineyards were to remain fallow. Really, I don't want to curl up in the fetal position. I have plenty of creative ideas in my head. I just don't have the energy, the margin, to do any of them and keep up with my income-producing day job. There needs to be a foundation that gives grants equal to one's annual salary to women who need a year to remain fallow. I'm ready for that year.

Pardon the change in metaphors, but where do I get off this train?

"Stop this train
I want to get off and go home again
I can't take the speed it's moving in
I know I can't but honestly won't someone stop this train" John Mayer

Photos from Steven Brisson on Flickr

In which I whine some more about stuff I should do but don't want to

2010-02-25T09:07:00.005-06:00

I'm traveling today through Saturday, so I decided to get a late start at work and enjoy the morning at home. We got up early and took our self-righteous, work-out selves to the gym for what would have been the third time since we got that "5 free visits" card. Because we're dedicated like that. Aaaand, the electricity was off at the gym. Aaaand the Arctic blast of wind was blowing too cold to walk outside. So we went to McDonald's and bought Egg McMuffins and a coffee and came back home to read blogs. I feel refreshed.

I'm having a hard time with the whole motivation to lose weight and exercise thing. Because, really. I have a man. I feel relatively healthy. I have nice hair. So why do I need to knock myself out to do this really, really hard thing? It's too haarrd! (read those last three words in an excruciatingly whiny voice) Those are rhetorical questions. I know the reasons. I'm sure my cholesterol levels are high, I know my energy is low, I would feel better, I would look better. Someone needs to create a biggest loser ranch in Oklahoma where I can just disappear for two months, forget all my other responsibilities and stresses, have someone scream in my face like Jillian, have healthy food available and only healthy food. Maybe that would work. Maybe not.

How do you stay (get) motivated to do hard things. Or how do you pick which hard things to focus on? Maybe that's my problem. I have too many things I'm trying to fix all at one time. Or maybe I just love donuts.

Because Support Can Be Beautiful

2010-02-23T07:09:00.004-06:00

Well, I didn't win anything, but it was an honor to be nominated, and for all three of you who voted for my blog in the Best Writing category of the 2009 Okie Blog Awards, it was much appreciated. Just having my name on the list brought a couple of hundred new folks to check out these pages, and hopefully added one or two new faithful readers. Because I like writing knowing someone out there is listening.

I have to say I am very impressed with the caliber of Oklahoma blogs these days. And not just because I was nominated. I'm serious! Just a few years ago the Okie blogs were pretty slim pick'ns. Remember Slim Pickens? He died in the early '80s so you probably don't. I am very impressed by the improving quality of blogging in Oklahoma. Sure, there's The Pioneer Woman, who is now a national phenomenon. But there's a growing number of really good blogs out there.

If you haven't taken the time to check some out, jump over there and see what our fellow Okies are up to. Here are a few I discovered along the way. Plus one of my favorite new bloggers who wasn't on any list...

Goldilocks and Her Fabulous Bears - Not nominated but one of my all time favorite Oklahoma bloggers. A very funny window into the life of at the State's University.

Tasha Does Tulsa - Winner of Best Culture Blog and Best Tulsa Blog. Think there's nothing to do in Tulsa? Think again.

Napkin Dad - Runner up for Most Inspirational blog.

Jeremy and Kathleen - I like the style of their blog. It won in the Best Kept Secret category.

Enjoy! And thanks for your support. At my age, everything needs a little more support.

Sometimes the Olympics Are Hard to Watch!

2010-02-22T07:00:00.001-06:00

Last week was a crazy-busy week, but I still managed to take in quite a few cringe-worthy moments of the 2010 Winter Olympics.

There are the shock-n-awe cringe moments, witnessing horrifying crashes with body-parts flying and twisting in ways body parts were not meant to twist and fly. Then the athlete miraculously gets up and walks away. Some even go on to compete in the next round! That's the "awe" part.

There, of course, are the cringe-worthy costumes. And I don't just mean figure-skating, although this year's crop seems to be more "what were they thinking" than usual. There's the Czech Republic's Opening Ceremony uniforms, the body-gloved bob sledders, and those crazy Norwegian curlers in their golf pants (ordered online the week before the competition from Florida-based Loudmouthgolf.com)

msnbc.com

Speaking of curling, I was just checking out the Olympic website and saw that they are streaming the live curling competition at this very moment. Isn't "Live Curling" an oxymoron?

And about those bobsledders (bob sleighers?)- they present more cringe-worthy moments than just about any other Winter Olympic sport. Really, it's not their fault as much as it is the fault of the cameraman or woman. I truly do not need to see the Lycra-encased butt cheeks up close and personal. Nor do I need to see them adjusting their forward nether regions. I mean, I feel for them. I'm sure you can't help but feel the need to pick and pull while wrapped up like a deli sandwich. I just don't want to watch. And who decided it was of interest to put a camera at knee level to a seated and sprawled short-track speed skater? America does not want to see Apolo Anton Ohno that up-close-and-personal. Or is it Apolo Ohno Anton? Or Ohno Apolo... I'm confused.

And ice dancing. Oh ice dancing. Awkward!

Yuri Kadobnov, Getty Images

Downhill

2010-02-20T07:01:00.002-06:00

Mark and I took yesterday off and taught Junior Achievement in our daughter's 5th grade classroom. Our daughter's the teacher. I know, some people our age have 5th grade children. But not us, thanks to the good Lord of fertility and a complete disregard for whether we could afford children in our twenties. I'm way too tired to be chasing small children at this point in my life.

The children were much smarter than I expected. Maybe there's something to that game show. They seemed to really get the concepts of scarcity, opportunity cost, entrepreneurs and the global economy. Who knew! Of course, when shown a picture of Sherri Coale, the OU Women's Basketball coach, and asked if anyone knew who it was, the first hand up declared her to be Sarah Palin. Such cute little budding Republicans. This is a red state, after all.

Today I'm back to work. There's something about working on a Saturday that just makes me tired. I'm feeling one turn short of a quadruple lutz. My board's not going all the way to the top of the half-pipe. I'm one gate short of a downhill...you get the picture.

The Exit of Doom

2010-02-17T21:40:00.003-06:00

I was driving home today, heading toward what I decided was THE EXIT OF DOOM. You have to say that in a really deep voice with lots of reverberation. Every day when I drive home from work I pass a perfectly respectable gym where people go to hold back the rapid expansion common to couch potatoes such as myself. I'm sedentary. I just am. I am not an athlete. It's not fair that by being true to my basic nature I am expanding past a point that is acceptable.

So at 5:30 today I found myself heading toward that exit of doom, where Mark was waiting to escort me into the gym against my will. Or at least against my nature. Yes. We had agreed to meet there. Yes. I want to be healthy. But it takes all of the minuscule amount of discipline I have after a long day of work not to run home to my couch and television.

I'm not a fan of large groups of people. I'm not a fan of sweating. I'm not a fan of trying to figure out how to work all those machines while attempting to look cool as I lower the weights to the lowest possible settings. I'm not a fan of boredom. So really, going to the gym is a little like my own personal hell.

We got passes for five free visits. That should be enough to get in shape and lose all the weight I need to. Right? Truthfully, if we actually use all five free passes we will be exponentially further along than we usually are when deciding to "get healthy". I'm not running out to buy cute gym clothes though. I'm nothing if not a pessimistic realist.

Eric Heiden-Back at the Olympics at age 51

2010-02-15T07:17:00.007-06:00

Generation Joneser Eric Heiden (born in 1958) is one of the most recognized names when it comes to winter Olympics. If you're reading this and have no idea who he is, check out his impressive list of world records. In the 1980 Lake Placid Olympics he won EVERY speed skating event - the only skater to have ever won all of the men's speed skating races.

AP File

I didn't realize he was an orthopedic surgeon, like his father. And his wife. He's back at the Olympics, serving as the team doctor. That's just cool. If you haven't heard of him it's probably because he didn't jump on the endorsement train. He preferred finishing school and staying out of the spotlight.

Photo from MSNBC

The Lake Placid Olympics was arguably the most important Olympics for Generation Jonesers. At the very least it's probably the most memorable. As young adults we were the same age as many of the competitors. It was the Olympics that brought us the Miracle on Ice, when the USA, clearly the underdog, beat the Soviet Union in a medal round ice hockey game and went on to win the gold medal. It really was a miracle!

Thirty years have flown by since the Lake Placid Olympics. Records set during those games are only yawn-worthy now. The Olympics are no longer for amateurs only. Million dollar endorsement deals await the photogenic winners. They might even be invited to compete on Dancing With The Stars!

My own children are now young adults. I'm wondering if the Olympics hold the same place of awe in their minds as it did for us. Will there emerge any clear role models from these games? And one more question. Why, oh why, does the USA always have the worst looking outfits? I'm just not a fan.

The Road to Austin

2010-02-11T07:26:00.003-06:00

Austin here I come. The only place I've been in Texas is the Dallas/Ft.Worth area. Oh, and Amarillo on my way west. Oh, and Galveston briefly before getting on a cruise to celebrate our 25th anniversary. But I hear Austin is a great place to visit. I'm thinking, though, that this weekend may not have been the best choice. There's a huge winter storm headed that direction.

I planned this trip for work, and invited Mark to come along. We extended the visit by a day so we could hang out and explore the city. We may be exploring everything indoors. I mean like restaurants and shopping, people.

Weather has been a constant topic of conversation lately. What are we? Old? Only old people talk endlessly about weather and politics and the price of gas, right? What was it we talked about when we were young? I don't remember.

Mark is the Trip-Miester, planning even trips to the grocery store in great detail. Well, maybe not the grocery store. That's where he goes on auto-pilot and works the isles in exact order, neatly stacking the familiar brands in his basket in a specific order that I'm not privy to. He has a plan and a pace and I'm welcome only if I can keep up and don't drift.

Anyway - he already has explored Austin on Mapquest, plotting out points of interest and importance. He's printed out all the boarding passes and checked the weather. Now he's looking for the umbrella. I'm pretty sure he was a tour guide in a previous life. I just get to relax and follow the man with the umbrella who is leading the way.

Women At Work - Third Times A Charm

2010-02-10T08:30:00.004-06:00

I have to say, one of the best things about having grown children and a somewhat empty nest is that my husband and I don’t have to sort out who will be taking care of our children while we work. With 58 percent of children under six having all parents in the workforce, it’s a problem common to many.

My husband learned very early to fend for himself. He’s an ironing fanatic. I buy wash-and-wear. In his dream home there would be a room just for ironing, where an expensive iron awaits, maybe on a timer. If he could awake to the smell of coffee brewing and the click, click of an iron warming up he would be a happier man.

So, early in our marriage he learned I would not be making him breakfast or ironing his clothes before work. When our children were born, he jumped in with diaper changes, bathing the babies and although he didn’t have the “equipment” for midnight feedings, he was very active in their care. I almost wrote that he was a great helper, but we agreed long ago it wasn’t about one of us parenting and the other “helping”. We were in it as partners. Although one partner was way better at color coordinating outfits and finding tiny matching pink socks and putting bows in the hair. But hey. Is it really life altering if your child shows up at daycare with her little dress on backwards?

So when it came to juggling child care while my husband and I both worked, it was an equal-opportunity challenge. I wanted to be the one caring for my baby though. I wanted to not have to wake her up on a cold morning, bundle her sleepy sweetness into a car seat and hand her off to someone else. I wanted to be sure she was safe, teach her to play peek-a-boo, watch her learn to turn herself over, teach her to read, help her make cupcakes for school, take her to gymnastics, pick her up after play practice, take her to volleyball, shop for a prom dress, help her with her graduation speech, know her friends from school and connect with her friends parents. I delegate all kinds of things at work. I didn’t want to delegate parenting.

Through our child-raising years, we juggled life, work and parenting so that the girls were always a priority. Sometimes I worked from home. There was a tiny and glorious window of time where I didn’t work at all. Sometimes we traded off taking our vacation weeks. Here’s a parenting math problem for you. Two parents plus 10 vacation days each equals how many weeks of summer vacation? That would eight weeks of someone at home with your children if you split each vacation day in half. See how that works? The pre-teen children sleep the first half of the day anyway! I’ve worked early and my husband worked late so that one of us could be there at either end of the school day. You name it, we’ve probably done it to care for our children.

I wish I could say my children never let themselves into an empty house after school. I wish I could say my children never had to call me at work. The day Mr. Mooberry let Tessa call me at work doesn’t count. She had that man wrapped around her little third-grade finger. Seriously. What teacher lets a child call her mom because she’s worried the dog will be frightened by a thunderstorm?

Plenty of moms seemingly successfully balance work and raising children. Mona Sutphen, White House Deputy Chief of Staff for Policy, was recently featured in Working Mother magazine.

“Described by colleagues as smart, focused and disciplined, Mona has witnessed the toll Washington jobs can take on the lives of people with families. She’s known staffers who didn’t know how to stop working. ‘They thought they were so essential that they couldn’t leave the office. There was always something else to do, and it overtook their lives,’ she says. ‘There are times you have to be at the office, and there are also times when you don’t really have to be there, though it would be better if you were. Now that I have a family and a little more experience in work settings, I have more confidence that I can cover what I need to accomplish and I can make the trade-off.’”

Ms. Sutphen goes days without seeing her children awake. Her husband works long hours as well. Their solution for child care is an au pair, who lives with them and cares for the children while mom and dad work very demanding jobs.

This is where I get really cranky. The story about Ms. Sutphen was under the category of “Real Mom Stories” on the online site for Working Mother. While it is marvelous that accomplished, experienced and well educated women have the opportunity to work in important jobs and serve as role models to girls everywhere, this story is not about your average mom.

Your average mom does not have the money to hire an au pair, much less house one in her three bedroom, two bath ranch-style home in suburban USA. Many parents are going it alone, without a partner. In female-head-of-household families where there are children below school age, 54% of those families have an annual income that falls below the federal poverty level. Fifty-four percent!

Middle class or working poor –women have their own “Real Mom Stories”. Their stories are way less glamorous and they certainly do not include an au pair. The reality is, aside from a very small minority, all of us moms care about what happens to our kids. We just hope that each day will be a better day and we can work it out.

Again, I’ve written something that has no obvious conclusion. I have to go to work, though thankfully my seemingly well-adjusted children are grown and can feed and house themselves and I no longer have to worry if I’ll get home in time to pick them up from school. There may soon come a day where we have to sort out elder-care issues in our household. But for today, I’m thankful to be on the other side of that one life challenge.

Photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/galefraney/

And the nominee is...

2010-02-08T19:03:00.003-06:00

The 2009 Okie Blog Award nominees are posted, and guess who is on the list? Mwa! I'm so excited! If you're an Oklahoma blogger, feel free to vote for CariOkie in the best writing category. Click on the CariOkie logo thingy over on the right to view voting rules. If you're not an Oklahoma blogger, you can still enjoy all the great Oklahoma blogs.

21 Gun Salute

2010-02-07T09:20:00.006-06:00

"We're dealing with children, they need to be terrified, it's like mothers milk to them - without it their bones won't grow properly." (Sue Sylvester - Glee)

My baby is 21 today. I'm not going to dwell on how old that makes me feel, because today's not about me. Actually, no day is about me. Once you're a mom it's rarely about you. It's all about how to get this creature who was just squeezed out of a very small and heretofore generally unseen part of your body and laid in all her gooey glory on your breast to adulthood. To become a reasonably well-adjusted, contributing member of society. To not pick her nose or her wedgie in public. To bathe regularly, change her underwear daily, keep embarrassing images off of Facebook, respect those in authority, love God, and call or text her mom occasionally. And not necessarily in that order.

Somehow in this crazy whirlwind life we've led she managed to grow up by all accounts and appearances to be healthy and well adjusted. As a family we have made more memories in these 21 years than most people make in a lifetime. And she's just getting started. Twenty-one is an important milestone, and I've been trying to think of something new that I would add to the things I wish for her. But really, my wishes are the same as they have been from that first moment on February 7, 1989.

Now that both my daughters are adults, I suppose my desires for my children have morphed into a more grown-up version.

Love God. It's THE thing that really matters over the course of your life, not to mention eternity.
Be transparent. You know I have a thing about that.
Don't put off really living this day. It's easy to get caught up waiting for something better, something bigger, something...whatever. Don't waste today waiting for that something.
Forgive, then forget. Unforgiveness rots the soul. Just let it go.
Find joy in the simple. Sometimes life sucks, so it's important to cultivate the habit of looking for joy in unexpected places.

I just know I couldn't be prouder, couldn't be more impressed, couldn't be more grateful.

Happy 21st, sweet girl.

Culture Notes - some high, some low

2010-02-03T07:00:00.001-06:00

So much to comment on, so few brain waves with which to process the information. Is it just me or am I getting dumber as I get older? Don’t answer that if it IS just me. I thought we were supposed to gain wisdom as we grew older. I’m just becoming more aware of how much I don’t know or understand. Maybe that’s the definition of wisdom.

You think I’m talking about the great questions of the ages, don’t you. Who am I? Why do I exist? Why do bad things happen to good people? But no. I’m pondering deep, philosophical thoughts like –

LOST - What the H-E-Double-Tooth-Picks happened on the final season’s first episode of LOST. I am now way “loster” than I was before. I agree with everything my daughter, Angela, texted during the show.

“Holy cow!”
“There are two of them?”
“My mind is exploding”
“The body count is adding up”
Yep, that pretty much sums up my reaction. And like all episodes of LOST, I’m left with more new questions than resolved ones.

WE ARE THE WORLD – I loved that song when it first came out in 1985. How can you possibly listen to that song and not get chills and want to join hands with the universe and sing along? In 1985 I was busy working, my firstborn was gestating (I was preggers), and I was filled with idealism. We all really could make a better world. Here we are 25 years later and they are doing a remake. I’m excited! What’s really weird, though, is that some of the singers participating in the remake weren’t even born when the original was produced. Certainly, many of them were too young to remember it.

THE BACHELOR – There is a reason that guy’s a bachelor. That’s all I have to say on that subject. Those women should run far, far away. OK, I had one more thing to say.

APPLE iPAD – There’s something that has been bothering me about Apple’s new iPAD, other than the obvious junior high-ish things like thinking the next version will be the MAX-iPAD. Then I heard someone on the radio say it looked like their Grandmother’s iPhone, and I knew that was the thing that had been back there in the back of my brain. It looks like an iPhone for the visually impaired! Like large print books! I bet there’s an app for that, at least. Wait, there is! It’s called BigNames. Love it.

LOST is baaaccckk

2010-02-02T11:41:00.005-06:00

Tonight we finally get to the final season of LOST. I'm not good at deferred gratification! Seriously, we have to wait until when to see the next season of Glee? Anyway, I wanted to share this map. If The Island had a subway system, this is what it would look like. Love it! Luv it!! Click the image to go to John Cabrera's site - the brains behind the map madness.

Women At Work - Same Song, Second Verse

2010-02-01T07:00:00.002-06:00

Remember Lilly Ledbetter? At age 41 she took a job as a manager at Goodyear Tire and Rubber and worked there until her retirement 20 years later. When she retired she was the only woman in her position – the rest being men, of course. Near the close of her tenure someone slipped her an anonymous note telling her she was making significantly less in salary than her male counterparts. Ms. Ledbetter took the company to court, where a jury found in her favor.

The facts were pretty clear – the only factor differentiating her and her fellow managers was her gender. Here’s the kicker though. Goodyear appealed and the U.S. Supreme court ruled in their favor. Apparently, according to the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Ms. Ledbetter was required to file a claim no less than 180 days after the first time she experienced discrimination. Um, really? Let’s review. She did not know about the discrimination for 20 years. The company kept salaries a closely guarded secret. There was no way for her to know how her salary or annual raises compared to her co-workers until that anonymous note 20 years later. There is now a new law, the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, which resets the 180 day statute of limitations with each new discriminatory paycheck.

Think this was an isolated case? Maybe it was more egregious than most, but yes, boys and girls, there is still a significant wage gap between men and women in the wonderful world of work. In the last census, records show that the median income for men was $38,000, and the median income for women was $26,000. If I wasn’t so math-phobic I’d take the time to figure out what percentage difference that is. It’s significant, I can tell you that much. In management-related professional positions, where 51% of workers are women, the median income is $63,000 for men and $42,000 for women. Ouch!

Ms. Ledbetter’s case brings up an interesting point regarding equal pay – the total wage gap between men and women over a lifetime of work. She was estimated to have lost over $400,000 in wages due to the difference in pay. Today, the average wage gap for women in Oklahoma over a lifetime is $387,000 for high school graduates and $601,000 for college graduates. I guess the good news is that Oklahoma has a smaller wage gap than many other states.

Women are more likely to work part-time or take extended periods of time away from work to care for children or other family members. The census numbers are supposed to be adjusted for that fact, but it’s inevitably another reason why wages differ. Here’s one that will chap your hide. Men with children earn 2% more than men without children. Women with children earn 2.5% less than women with children.

It’s a wacky world of work out there! Like many Generation Jones women my age, I could be the poster child for the seasons of women at work. During college I interned with IBM, which was a really big deal in the early eighties. At that time the successful, quickly advancing women in the office were mainly single. The few who had children and a husband came to work exhausted with harrowing tales of daycare drama and midnight crying babies. I couldn’t bring myself to invest the time and energy in what appeared to be a lifetime commitment to this world-wide company. After all, having babies and growing a family was high on my list.

Four years later – now working for a small business, I worked until the day I went into labor and was back on the job six weeks after the birth of my first child. There was a house to buy, my husband was laid off and out of a job for a few months when Angela was an infant…life was life. For the next seven years or so I juggled work with motherhood, trying things like working part time, working from home and starting my own business. You name it, I tried it in an effort to be the primary caretaker of my two daughters.

When I went “back to work” full time I accepted a job where I was, in my own humble estimation, over-qualified and under-paid because of my lack of a track record. I had done all of the things mentioned above, plus having lived and worked overseas, been innovative, creative, entrepreneurial. But I had not been employed in a traditional 8-5, Monday thru Friday, backside in a chair kind of job. What I lacked in experience I attempted to make up in education, earning my Master’s in Business Administration while working full-time and keeping up with two very active children, church, my marriage. The same things many of you Gen X and Gen Y-ers are doing right now.

So after caring for the nation’s children and attempting to find a balance that keeps us from being institutionalized, we find we are quite literally undervalued in the world of work. Pay is the definer of value in that world. Paying women less than men sends the clear message that a woman working is of less value than a man working.

Paying women less than men helps no one and hurts everyone. Men surely prefer that if their wives work they get paid equally. Children whose mothers work outside the home benefit from equal pay. And women, of course, deserve to be paid equally for equal work.

So how do we fix this? Is there a fix? I guess I hope that each new generation is more enlightened than the one before in terms of race and gender issues. Just as each new generation becomes, at least in theory, more color blind, each new generation hopefully becomes ignorant of past reasons to under-pay and under-value. Is that wishful thinking?

And another thing while I’m rolling along here. Can we just get rid of that taboo that keeps pay rates locked away in the file cabinets and in the board rooms? Transparency is key. Let’s get salaries out into the bright light of day and keep each other honest. It’s the best way to correct the inequality and helps us avoid another Lilly Ledbetter.

T-shirt from Zazzle.com. Photos of women at work from the Library of Congress archives. Statistics from the U.S. Census Bureau.

Things to during "Winter Storm 2010"

2010-01-28T12:05:00.006-06:00

So if you're stuck in the house today because of "Winter Storm 2010", which, I have to say, is better than being stuck in the office, and if you give up on trying to actually accomplish meaningful work, here's a little entertainment.

The Gary England Drinking Game - while I'm not advocating actually taking shots as the instructions direct, because as The Lost Ogle points out, you will soon die of alcohol poisoning, this is very funny. Maybe you could make it into a bingo game. Or eat M&Ms instead of taking shots. And of course, you have to be an Okie and familiar with our very own millionaire weather man to think this is even slightly amusing. ( I bought one of those shirts for my niece. Yes I did).

From this blog I was highly entertained for about 8 minutes. "Curb Mining" was very popular when we lived in Bulgaria. And in Bethany for that matter!

Blu Dot Real Good Experiment from Real Good Chair on Vimeo.

Visit the home page of Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and catch up on their podcasts, play the Daily News Quiz game, or find out Harry Reid's reaction to the State of the Union address at Wait Wait Don't Blog Me .

Or you could do something old school like read a good book or take a nap. Just don't plan to go to Starbucks. They are closed indefinitely. They closed at 10:00 a.m. so their associates could get home before the weather got really bad. Where do the associates live? Texas? Seriously, they could have waited to close until 10:30 so I could have drown my irritation at my boss for calling me to say we were working from home today AFTER I was in the office already. But no, all Starbucks are closed. So don't go there hoping for solace. Panchos Liquortown, however, is still open and very busy.

Why Women Work

2010-01-25T07:00:00.002-06:00

Over the last week or so I’ve been observing women at work as I go about my usual life. Namely women of a certain age. Namely my age. Women approaching fifty. Women born into what is now known as Generation Jones.

One day last week I fell through the rabbit hole. I walked off the street in a small Oklahoma town into the county courthouse and straight into the seventies. Eight women in polyester, lined up, four by four in closely spaced desks faced the front wall. The floor was covered with thick industrial carpet of uncertain vintage, unraveling around a gaping hole where a file cabinet had been removed sometime in the last decade. The women were encased by cinder block, windowless walls, and metal shelves showcasing thick, red-bound books smelling of old paper; land deeds recording the proper and legal owner of every tract of land in the county. Only the flat screened computer monitors on each desk said yes, we are part of the new millennium.

Middle-aged women worked quietly, assisting each other without being asked. “Here, let me carry one of those books for you. Two are too heavy”, one said quietly to her neighbor. As I waited my turn I tried to imagine the life behind each face – what each woman faced at home, why she worked in this particular sisterhood, this secluded cloister.

On Saturday another middle-aged woman served me breakfast at Denny’s in another small town. She was well-groomed, cheerful and helpful, with her coiffed, teased and dyed brown hair. Where did she come from this morning? What causes her to get up each day, willing to pour coffee and serve pancakes to oil workers and travelers?

Friday night the Gen-Jones woman at the hotel desk patiently found her way around the computer program that seemed to momentarily baffle, her nicotine stained fingers displaying chipped nail polish. What had she been doing before putting on her clean, pressed blouse and applying her makeup that would leave that much dirt under her finger nails. Or was that, too, nicotine?

Is this the life these women imagined in their girlhood? As children we watched the confused and confusing world that was the sixties and early seventies. Gloria Steinem, Roe V Wade, no-fault divorce were discussions heard on the nightly news. Yet here we are, nearly 50 years later, perhaps wondering what we have gained. The majority of women work in pink color jobs like the women in the county clerk’s office – poorly-paid bookkeepers, administrative assistants, and receptionists – or in service jobs in hospitals, restaurants and hotels. Eighty-eight percent of people working in health care support positions are women. Seventy-four percent of office workers and 78 percent of personal care workers are female.

I’m going to leave these thoughts out there – blowing in the drafty place that is my mind today. I have other thoughts on the subject of women and work, but for now I have to get on the road. My desk awaits. In the mean time – out of curiosity, why do you work?

Top photo from the Wisconsin Historical Society. Gloria Steinem photo by U.S. News and World Report staff photographer. Statistics from the U.S. Census Bureau.

Fight against "compassion fatigue"

2010-01-23T09:41:00.007-06:00

Compassion fatigue - one unintended consequence of all the media attention when something tragic like the earthquake in Haiti, the Christmas Tsunami a few years ago, or the hurricane and subsequent floods in New Orleans and surrounding areas. The truth is, you get sick of hearing about it. Admit it. You start changing the channel when it comes on the news. Maybe you already texted your $10 donation. Maybe you've found a way to give much more. You still whisper a prayer, you still shake your head in disbelief. But life goes on. There's no judgement intended here. It's a legitimate reaction.

The bad news? There's still so much to be done. Here are a couple of suggestions.

If you're like me and missed the "Help for Haiti Now" performances last night, you can catch 'em on the internet. AND you can pre-order all the music at iTunes. The full $7.99 goes toward relief work in Haiti. You get to help out and you get great music.

Check out the link below to get you started. (Not now! After you finish reading this blog!!)

Mary J. Blige - "Mary J. Blige "Hard Times Come Again No More" (Live)": "R&B singer Mary J. Blige delivers a soulful performance of the Civil War-era ballad 'Hard Times Come Again No More' at the 'Hope for Haiti Now' telethon in New York."

You can also donate to World Vision. I worked for them for six years and I assure you, they will put your money to good use. They already had staff working in Haiti. They know what they are doing!

And the award goes to...

2010-01-18T07:34:00.003-06:00

Yes! Gleeks everywhere are dancing and singing in celebration. Glee won a Golden Globe! I came a little late to the Glee fan base, but that show is Ahhw-suum! The cast is said to have burst into song backstage after accepting their award. OF COURSE they did. They wouldn't be the cast of Glee if they didn't sing at all the appropriate moments.

And I want to BE Jane Lynch. Or Meryl Streep. Or Sandra Bullock.

But right now I have to be me, and go put on my face and do my hair without assistance from a professional. Work awaits for those who live an average person's life. A life void of red carpets, unless you count the kool-aid or red wine stains. A life where there are no paparazzi, no shiny awards, no acceptance speeches.

"I'd like to thank the termite guy for coming back to exterminate the termites he said didn't exist when we bought the house. Thank you to McDonalds for always being there for me. And of course, (wiping a tear, choking back a sob) to my straight iron and my under-eye concealer. You do me proud every.single.day. Thank you!"

Happiness is...another home improvement project

2010-01-16T10:07:00.006-06:00

Remember how often I used to post pictures of all our many and endless home improvement projects? Ah, the good old days. Those project were inevitable when living in a one-owner house built in 1937. Then we moved over the summer to accommodate three generations living under one roof, and the home improvement projects have slowed to a trickle. Not because I adore the 1970's motif we've got going on here. I mean, who doesn't love heavy, dark wood with kitschy trim and popcorn ceilings. Mostly we haven't done much improving-of-home out of sheer exhaustion.

Today we're just pushing past that lethargy, exhaustion and I-don't-really-care attitude that has enveloped us like the Christmas Eve blizzard. Side note - did you see that 1,200 drivers were fined for not paying tolls on Oklahoma turnpikes during the blizzard? Baahhhaahaa. It was like Armageddon folks! You couldn't GET to the toll booth. Ah the Oklahoma Department of Transportation. The same folks who brought us a new saint:

Anyway, today we're pushing past all that and doing a short makeover in our bathroom vanity area. Short for us means at least a month. We're about one week in, so we'll see how long it takes. Wish us luck!

Easy Come, Easy Go

2010-01-05T07:47:00.006-06:00

If you happened to sign on to Yahoo.com this morning you might have been tempted to click on the Smartmoney.com article "10 Things Not to Buy in 2010".

Is it just me, or does Yahoo employ an extraordinarily talented headline writer? I promise myself I'm just going to pop in, check my email, and pop back out, and E.V.E.R.Y. time I get snagged by some intriguing headline.

Anyway, what I was saying was that this article is fairly painful for us Generation Jonsers. We've said good-bye to the LP record, 8-track, cassette, Walkman, video tape - all accompanied by expensive hardware. Now they want to pry our fingers off of our land-line phones, DVDs and external hard drives? I admit, my family hasn't owned a land-line phone for about seven years and hasn't really missed it. And we just cancelled our online movie rental membership in favor of the less expensive options of Hulu for missed television programs, and On-Demand cable movies. So if actions speak louder than words, we're modeling exactly what the article recommends.

Still, it's hard to let go of things we so badly wanted once-upon-a-time. Plus, what exactly are we supposed to do with all this stuff? Maybe just stash it somewhere until 2040 when it will suddenly be valuable as an uber-cool retro item?

And another thing - why, in 2040, will I not be an uber-cool retro item?

I didn't see THAT coming

2010-01-01T21:04:00.008-06:00

Wow! Is it the new year already? I did absolutely nothing to celebrate the new year. Is that lame? OK, it's lame.

Welcome to a new decade. Or is it the end of the old decade? I'm not quite sure. What I do know is that it's a new year and a fresh start. That's what I love about the turn of the year. There's something about it that makes one want to take stock of one's life and tweak it a bit where needed.

So much goes on in my head and my life that I just don't get written down. Somewhere in the midst of our moving and adjusting our life to a new normal I've gotten out of the habit of writing. I haven't found a rhythm for a daily routing yet in this new house. Often I feel like I'm just visiting. So writing more and settling in are two things high on my list for the new year.

Don't even talk to me about making some resolution to lose weight or exercise more. While both of those things are on my "must do" list, I'm just not going to force myself into a corner with that kind of New Year's resolution. I do plan to take this year's goals a little more seriously than I did last year, but that won't be hard to do. I'm gonna have to think, to consider the few things important enough to use up some of my limited energy, time and resources.

In the mean time, I've made a few changes to this blog. Nothing new there! Hope you have a fabulous new year.

Photo from Life Magazine Archive, 1963 by Alfred Eisenstaedt

another Christmas jingle

2009-12-23T07:37:00.004-06:00

Only two days 'till Christmas. Here's a little something I wrote for the economically impaired this holiday season... you know the tune!

Deck the halls with last year's holly
fa la la la la, la la la la
at the mall you will not find me
fa la la la la, la la la la

Don we now our old apparel
fa la la la la, la la la la la la
'tis the season to be frugal
fa la la la la, la la la la

Where's the fruitcake from Aunt Edith
fa la la la la, la la la la
Maybe this year we'll have to eat it
fa la la la la, la la la la

Oh, and I couldn't pass up putting together a little something for Tiger Woods, sung to the tune of "I'll Be Home for Christmas":

I want hoes for Christmas
Sexting for all to see
please be blond and gullible
"you're the only one for me"
Christmas eve will find me
where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams

Happy last-minute shopping!

Mr. C. is on his way

2009-12-21T07:16:00.005-06:00

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and he is scheduled to visit on Friday. He's looking a little frayed around the cuffs. Word is he invested poorly and had to lay off a third of his workforce this year. Nobody ever said Santa was recession proof.

It's gonna be a slim Christmas around here, what with Mark's job loss and all the moving and rearranging in the past six months, paying for a university education not getting any cheaper... This year of all years I'd rather just skip Christmas and head to a secluded beach somewhere. But Oklahoma City is too far from any sunny beach and the shores of Lake Hefner just don't call out to me. Is there even a beach at Lake Hefner?

Enough of the bah-humbugging already. It is, after all, truly a celebration of the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Now there's something that is recession proof.

Anybody for a little Christmas jingle? Remember last year's creations? Get yourself warmed up with these and these and I'll serenade you with some new creations tomorrow. Happy Christmas week! I'll try to make this a bah humbug-free zone.

Because who doesn't like bacon!!

2009-12-06T11:35:00.003-06:00

OMG - I'm so excited! I just called my friend Judy to squeal but she was herding preschoolers into church for their Christmas program and couldn't talk. Her daughter and son-in-law's business is mentioned on Martha Stewart's website. Squeal, squeal!

You may remember reading about Skillet Street Food when Mark and I tracked them down in Seattle a few years back. This entrepreneurial young couple has been working hard to make a go of an exciting business idea. New businesses are challenging and they've been blessed with a little guy named Huxley, and life is busy but money is tight. I hope this Martha Stewart connection busts it wide open for 'em.

And it's all about bacon. And who doesn't like bacon??? Seriously check this link out and buy some bacon jam. Knowing this couple, you'll be getting a truly tasty and quality product and supporting a great young family.

Keep it in your pants

2009-12-03T08:02:00.002-06:00

Merry Christmas, ho ho ho.

The world seems filled with "hos" these days, all who apparently make it a regular practice to hook up with Tiger Woods. I'm a cynic. People are rarely who you think they are, so let's not get all high and mighty when one more high-profile male can't keep it in his pants. Men are stupid. Women are too. One well know man once said "for all have sinned and fall short". Some just fall short in a more spectacular and public way, like the difference between falling off the Empire State Building and falling off a curb. The splatter (collateral damage) is more painful and spectacular when falling from a very high place.

You gotta wonder though what people are thinking. Like do you wake up one morning and say "Let's crash the President's little State Dinner honey. It'll be fun". Or "hmm, how many dead people can I stuff in my house before someone notices the stench." Or "I have eight small children, so now seems like the best time to walk away from my marriage".

Do people not have enough to do? Because my life is full. I keep pretty busy. I'm too tired to do much more than the next thing. I'm happy to keep a low profile and keep my failings off the front page of the National Enquirer. Because seriously - enquiring minds will NOT be interested in my humble life. And that's just fine with me.

Lord help us!

2009-11-29T19:33:00.005-06:00

Can I be honest? I mean really honest. Living with dementia is no fun. Living with someone who suffersfrom dementia, to be more accurate, although I often suffer from severe fuzz-brain-ness myself.

The precious mother-in-law is sinking deeper into a world where we cannot follow. Some days it - the beast of dementia- manifests itself as a little confused but cute and looking out at a world that is all sweetness and light. And then there is yesterday. Wow. I mean. Wow.

On days like yesterday there is no redirecting, no reasoning, no hugs or kind words that can stop the river of mean and ugly. And the thing we all know is, it's not her. It's not the mother and grandmother we all know and love. It's a disease that has attacked and betrayed her, and us along with it.

I've already asked forgiveness from my husband for the future actions of my demented mind. Should I be run down by the same beast, may you all remember me as I once was, and not as I may be if my body and/or mind becomes my enemy instead of my friend. Let's grab the moments now to hug and laugh and play so that we can face the future with the strength and courage that comes from a lifetime of love.

Miss you!

2009-11-24T09:04:00.006-06:00

Hello, hello. Anybody out there? I've just been lollygagging around since last you heard from me. That's a weird term, don't you think. It's really a grandma kind of term, so I'm showing my advanced age. Although I am not (yet) a grandparent. No pressure kids. Seriously. Baby Gap never goes out of style, so all those darling little baby things I have stashed in the closet can wait. While you lollygag. While my friend Judy sends me her grandbaby picture of the week. Weekly.

I just looked up the definition of lollygag:

lol-ly-gag (lah-lee-gag)
verb - (used without object)
1) to spend time idly; loaf
2) to indulge in kisses, caresses; make love; neck
Origin 1860-65 Americanism, origin unknown

OK - seriously never heard of the second definition. I was actually referring to the first for myself, although the second definition certainly applies to the making of grandbabies. Oh chill out. I'm just kidding. You have to wait until I retire to produce grandbabies so I can babysit.

I started this post out planning to provide you with a list of all the things I've been doing instead of blogging. Somehow I got off track. There's a big surprise. So really, I can't remember how much I've told you. So I'm just gonna put it in a list.

Mark has recovered nicely from losing his job by starting his own business. He's been crazy busy doing accounting/bookkeeping/software training and I couldn't be prouder. He even managed to squeeze a week in Florida into his schedule. He says he was working there and I have to believe him since he actually got paid. God is good. All the time. Anybody need a good accountant?

My day job has been non-stop, go-go-go and I've been teaching a couple of classes at a local university in the evenings.

And here's something really, really exciting. My sister and I started a non-profit. Call us crazy. We won't care because we already know this. We are scared, petrified, excited, breathless, tired. It's a long story, but you can get a glimpse of it here.

And here we are at Thanksgiving week. Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks. Because no matter what is going on in your life, there's always a little room for the giving of thanks. And grandbabies.

Swimming in a river of happy

2009-11-11T16:18:00.003-06:00

Went for a walk. Prayed for endorphins. Isn't that what you're supposed to get from exercise? My actual prayer went something like...

Lord, please bring on the endorphins. Pour a bucket of endorphins over me.
I want to drink a couple of gallons of happy juice. I want to sink into a tub
filled with endorphins, to slide underneath the surface and be immersed. I want
to rub endorphins all over me like I used to apply baby oil to get a tan while
sizzling in the sun during teenage summers. I want to roll in it like a pile of
these leaves that are falling from the trees. Bring it on, Lord. Bring it on!

Now I'm back home and watching Oprah. She's interviewing the police officers who shot down the killer at Ft. Hood. And now she's talking to the lady who had her face eaten off by a chimp. So jeeze. Really. I have an amazing life and I'm grateful. No really. I felt that way BEFORE Oprah. But endorphins come in handy some days. That and chocolate. And a swift kick of reality.

Beautification Project

2009-11-02T20:52:00.000-06:00

I thought my blog was looking pretty boring without any pretty pictures!

Circus Circus

2009-10-31T09:05:00.003-05:00

It's the perfect fall day today and I'm off to walk in the country with my sister. Then it's all about watching the grand-puppy and our niece's baby. Ang and Riley are off trail-mapping and camping somewhere in the depths of southeast Oklahoma (leaving grandpuppy with us) and the niece is headed to Stillwater to hang out with Tessa (leaving Rylin with us). Might be a circus in our household today! Two senior citizens, two middle-agers, two dogs and a baby. Throw in some trick-or-treaters ringing the doorbell and it's a recipe for total chaos. Fun chaos of course.

I need something to take the edge off of the seriousness of life and this just might be the thing. Wish me luck. I'm wishing you a blessed day.

One thing at a time

2009-10-26T13:03:00.003-05:00

I worked without stopping for anything but sleep pretty much all last week. So I took today off. Yay me. My list of things I would loooovvve to do is oh so long. Does anyone else have that problem? I could spend my days creating things, thinking, reading, and of course, napping. So today I am using unusual discipline and sticking to one thing. Nesting.

We've lived in the new house now for (checking calendar) about ten weeks. And although things are pretty much in place, there are still random boxes to unpack, artwork to hang and decorative items to arrange. And rearrange. And arrange again. It takes me a while to get things settled where I want to leave them for a good long time. Plus I'm trying to integrate our decorative stuff with the in-laws decorative stuff, attempting to avoid the "theirs and ours" school of decorating.

Mark is working from home a lot these days, and I need a home work space too, so I'm thinking of putting together a home office. We've never really had one - we usually just have a room that collects all the furniture that doesn't work for any other room. So part of my nesting day is to pull together a workable and pleasant space for officing.

I'm the master of multi-tasking, but I'm thinking it's not really working so well for me lately. I'm experimenting with being a little more focused, more single-minded. This day of nesting is part of that experiment. I'll let you know how it goes. And I will NOT read that web design magazine I bought yesterday, or try a few new tricks on Photoshop, or answer work emails, or go to Hulu to watch the episode I missed of Modern Family. Today is all about nesting.

Too Much Information

2009-10-16T07:25:00.003-05:00

You know it's been too long since you've visited your gynecologist when one day you need her, have to scroll through the doctors listed on yellowpages dot com to remember her name, call her office feeling all self-righteous that you plan to finally agree to another mammogram and get a recording that she has retired. It's very deflating. I hate trying to find another OBGYN. I certainly don't need the OB part of the doctor's repertoire. That ship has sailed, taking with it all of the necessary parts for baby-making. Well, not all the parts, but the bun-in-the-oven parts. What I enjoyed about my gynecologist was her experience and her understanding of the needs of a more, shall we say, mature woman. And also that she wore these little matching pastel velor sweat pants and jackets and that you had to reach around the cat lounging on the counter in order to hand over your co-pay.

Now I have to go find another doctor. Ugh. She will probably be like my primary care physician - young enough to be my offspring. I have now reached that age where more than fifty percent of the population is younger than me. I have no idea if that is a scientifically proven fact, but it feels more like eighty percent. Unless I'm in Walgreens. Then I usually feel quite young and spry. The fact that I just used the word spry in a sentence also proves my original theory.

When searching for a primary care physician after moving to OKC, I visited one doctor who matter-of-factly instructed me to eat a low sugar, low fat diet and get more exercise. Um, as if that thought wasn't the first thing I think every day and the last thing I regret every night. I'm all, thanks doc! I honestly had never thought of that. Just having you recommend it makes all the difference. I'll get right on it. Yeah. If only it were that easy...

I'll just add finding a new gynecologist to the long list of things I should do. Right behind all the things I must do but don't want to, things I want to do but never have the time for, and shaving. I really hate shaving.

General Manager of the Universe and other tall tales

2009-10-07T08:47:00.002-05:00

If you read my last post about online advertisements following me around, and you didn't read the comments, I thought I'd share as a public service announcement. My computer whiz little brother had the following to say. Seems like very sound advice to me!

My $.02: It's all about the cookies. Make sure your browser is set to not accept 3rd-party cookies (I mean, they'd be totally stale by the third party anyway!). I also use three browsers - Firefox for the important stuff like online banking, Chrome for social stuff like Facebook or Blogger, and Safari for general anonymous browsing, news, research, etc. And, never let anything save your password(s) and if it asks you to turn on "auto-complete", remember Nancy Reagan and just say no. :-)

He's always been smart like that. Genius shows up in random blossoms on our family tree. Come to think of it, maybe I'm the outlier. Hmm.

My genius seems to be for organizing. I want to organize all the planets and galaxies of my universe. OK everyone, sort yourselves out and line up accordingly. Inefficiency drives me crazy. I schedule my trips to the bathroom around when I have something to drop in the office mail box, papers to put in the recycling bin, and a check request to drop off in the office one over from mine. Does anyone else do that? Seriously, one day I'm going to pee myself waiting to get everything organized for that trip down the hall. It would be so inefficient to stop midway through a draft of our quarterly newsletter just to answer the call of nature.

Do NOT mistake my genius for organizing for an ability to be neat and tidy. Planning/organizing are not the same as being tidy. Those of us with this type of genius often operate in a cluttered environment. It's hard to be tidy when one is managing the universe.

Six Degrees of Creepy

2009-10-01T20:04:00.006-05:00

Is anyone else creeped out by how things follow you around on the Internet? It seems like every page I go to pops up with an Overstock.com ad displaying the exact items I looked at on my last visit to their site. That's creepy.

"Hi Cari. How can I help you? Do you still want to buy that blue chair?" (clicking to another page) "Do you want the blue chair or the chocolate brown chair? I have both in stock right now and shipping is free." (frowning while closing the window and clicking onto a new site) "What about these drapes? They'll go great in your bedroom" (resisting the urge to scream hysterically).

Going online has become like a trip to Mathis Bros Furniture. You can't get two feet in the door without being accosted be a salesperson who will NOT leave you alone to celebrate your anniversary by trying out couches and picking out dining sets you'll never buy. Not that we would ever celebrate an anniversary like that. But if we did, at least it's better than my friends who celebrated their anniversary by going to SAMS Club and trying all the sample foods.

I used to believe the Internet was a place where you could be anonymous - a nameless face in the crowd. That's the old Internet, the old paradigm - a place to find information. Today's reality is that it's more like Kevin Bacon's six degrees of separation. It only takes a few searches or clicks to be connected in unexpected ways. The Web 2.0 paradigm is interactive, collaborative and personal.

I think that's cool...until I'm being stocked by advertisements. That's just weird.

While you're busy running from freaky advertisements, take some time to check out these blog posts from some of the blogs I creep...

A contributor to Midlife Bloggers shared some interesting thoughts on the reality of losing a job...
The Numbers Man, aka my husband, has something to say about starting your own business...
Some nice writing from a newby MD...

What the Fungi?!

2009-09-24T09:42:00.007-05:00

Half the time I don't write on this blog for fear of over-sharing. I could sit down here every day and pour out my thoughts, because, let me tell you, there's plenty going on. But like pretty much everyone else in the universe, I live amongst people and people have feelings. And I have feelings. And boundaries. So I'm never quite sure where the line is between being honest and open versus crossing some boundary line.

I took the photo of these mushrooms while lying on my belly in my backyard. I'm in a LOT of pain with my back lately, so that was no small effort. I hope you appreciate it! These 'shrooms are a symbol of life to me. They represent the unplanned, unexpected things that just pop up to mar the landscape. You think you've gotten your life like your lawn - all green and healthy and free of weeds and debris. Then you turn around and there's fungi. WTF! I didn't see that coming.

So anyway, here's an edited list of my life, because I haven't done a list in a very long time, and you all know how much I love a good list.

My back is "out" whatever that means, and I can't seem to get any relief. Finally went to the doc yesterday and got pain meds, muscle relaxers and steroids. Trouble is, when I take any of these things I'm down for the count. I pretty much do a face plant in my pillow and don't move, which seems like a total waste of these beautiful fall days.
While visiting the doctor yesterday, I ran into a familiar face. My husband - who was in the next exam room with my father-in-law. The FiL had fallen down some stairs and hurt his shoulder. Fortunately nothing is broken or torn - just very painful. He's on the same meds I am. Yay. Mark is now in search of some of that non-skid, glow-in-the-dark tape to put on the offending stairs to keep that from happening in the future. And the good doc is leaving on a trip to Cancun tomorrow, funded in large part by my family! The man is now treating three generations of accident prone Ogdens.
Mark lost his job last week. Yay. That's an odd phrase, don't you think? I mean, he knows where his job was/is. But it's not like if he looks long enough, or tries to remember where he put it, he will get it back. So yeah. What the Fungi!
I've been arguing with my boss all week. Seriously. Is he just that stupid or am I just in that much pain. (see #1)
The Aunties are coming. This is a very good thing. But it has caused a great deal of confusion with the precious mother-in-law, who can't remember what week or day her sisters are coming, and can't get up the stairs to see that the extra bedrooms are prepared, thus prompting much worry and fussing. What I really want to do is set up a video camera and let it roll while the sisters reminisce about the dust bowl days. I love to hear the stories and I'm afraid they will be lost soon. Haven't I seen public service announcements looking for people who lived through the dust bowl? Anyone know?

So yep, a small sampling of the stuff that's popped up in my lawn/life. What you don't see here is the emotion, the anger, frustration, pain, joy, laughter that comes with life's fungi. I'm trying to stay well back from the over-sharing boundary line. Which makes for some pretty boring reading, I suppose. Not to mention we all have fungi, so who wants to read about mine.

Rude is In

2009-09-15T18:04:00.012-05:00

Wow have the outbursts been exploding lately, with an equal number of apologies close on their heels. What's the deal? It's not even coming from just one industry or segment of society. Congress, entertainment, sports, journalism...everyone wants a piece of the outburst action.

I can't decide if we are becoming a society of brutes or boobs or narcissists. Or perhaps we are a bunch of over-sensitive sissies. Really, there's no excuse for Kanye West's behavior. And Congressman Joe Wilson's breach of decorum was startling. It just isn't "done". At least not outside of the British Parliament. And whichever tennis-playing Williams sister it was who berated the line judge by threatening to kill her went way beyond poor sportsmanship. All in the brute/boob/narcissist category.

Sometimes the apologies seem to fall in the sissie category though. Did the ABC news reporter who tweeted that President Obama had just called Kanye West a jackass really need to issue an apology? I guess the comment was supposed to be off the record. Turns out Twitter is not off the record.

What about the shoe throwing reporter from Iraq? He was released from prison today after doing time for his shoe-throwing outburst at a press conference with former President Bush. Or how about the guy who is suing for being arrested for flipping off a police officer. Turns out giving the finger is protected by the constitution as a form of free speech. Turns out shoe throwing is not.

"Rep. Joe Wilson (R-SC), tennis legend Serena Williams and recording artist Kanye West held a press conference in Washington, DC today to kick off the first annual National Outburst Week." -Andy Borowitz, Huffington Post

"Been a busy week for President Obama. I notice that he’s having Kanye West and Taylor Swift to the White House for a “root beer summit” this weekend." -Jay Leno

"Ok, so Kanye is a serial apologizer. One could say he suffers from C.A.D. (compulsive apologizing disorder)." -Amy Spies, Writer and Producer

"Patriotism is not short, frenzied outbursts of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime. "
Adlai E. Stevenson

Now THIS is pure class. From the Phillies game last night...

These are the best years...but those years were fun.

2009-09-14T12:06:00.002-05:00

The party's over and I'm back at home. The whole 30th high school reunion was a fun diversion. I'm sure my daughters would have been interested in the spectacle of a room full of 48 year olds acting like teenagers, except with lots of alcohol. Or maybe I should say lots of legal alcohol. There was plenty of alcohol back in high school, so I heard. I think it's safe to say not a single person in the room got carded by the bartender. I myself stuck with club soda with lime.

Although my family moved a fair amount as I was growing up, we always moved within the same town. The result is that some of the folks in that room on Saturday night I have known since I was six years old. Yes, Brad, you were the best man when I married Mike on the playground at recess the spring of my first grade year. Thanks for the reminder. I don't think we got the marriage annulled before my family moved to the other side of town and I started attending Northview Elementary. A group of us former Northview Roadrunners gathered in a corner to take a photo and reminisce. I was saddened to learn that my elementary school crush was last seen in the county jail due to a DUI. I already knew that our classmate, Patty, had died of a brain tumor a long time ago. And another classmate, Kelly, died in a motorcycle accident - also a long time ago. But the rest of us seem to be surviving and even thriving.

I'm glad to be home again, back in my cocoon of everyday life. Glad that high school is not the end of life even though I distinctly remember wondering at 17 if it was all down hill after graduation. Nothing could be further from the truth. Life is full of opportunities for redemption and make-overs and do-overs and making something of ones self. Thank God for that! And thanks for the memories, old friends.

A lot has happened in 30 years

2009-09-12T17:36:00.005-05:00

In a holding pattern while I wait for the big event to start in a bit. We're meeting old friends for dinner before heading to a room full of even more old friends and former acquaintances at my 30th high school reunion. The problem I'm anticipating is trying to determine who's who in a dark room with loud music. So far I've deduced that people either look just like they did when we graduated only with added wrinkles and maybe added pounds, or they are completely unrecognizable.

My only hope is that everyone is provided with a name tag designed for the visually impaired. Or maybe that's vision impaired. There will probably be many, many people in the room who are visually impaired, with an extra chin here or a beer belly there. In fact, I expect most of us to be impaired in some way. You don't get to 48 without some signs of aging. At least that's my story (excuse?) and I'm sticking to it.

Along with the problem of trying to recognize people, there's the fear that I've forgotten everyone. I'm not good at looking all casual and self-assured when I have no freaking idea who you are. Were we best buds in 7th grade home room? Did we eat lunch together every day in the cafeteria? Surely I will remember those folks. If not, I just hope I'm a better actor than I think I am.

I so wish I had been able to hunt down at least one yearbook so I could cram for this exam.

And they whirled and they twirled and they tangoed

2009-09-09T20:38:00.004-05:00

Sigh. Labor Day is gone and summer is semi-officially over. Yes, I know, the Autumnal equinox won't occur until the 22nd of this month (at 4:18 p.m. Okie time, to be exact). And yes, it's still too warm outside. But mentally, summer is over.

I don't really remember getting much of a break, not that folks who aren't in academia on some level get actual summer breaks. I think having summer vacation for the first 20 years of your life sets a permanent body clock. Around the first of June you expect to fall into three months of leisure and slothfulness. Well, or working long hours for minimum wage. Really, summer is for lounging around reading endless stacks of books, swimming on lazy afternoons, learning to water ski, or chasing lightening bugs. It's about oiling up with baby oil and feeling my skin sizzle in the heat. Ah the 70's. Ah the skin cancer.

Being a big fan of NPR, I've been listening to their ongoing discussion of songs that remind people of a summer in their past. I've tried to focus in on a song or two that conjures up a summer memory. The only song that brings a strong memory is anything by Elton John. B-b-b-Benny and the Jets, Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word, Someone Saved My Life Tonight. Did the man perform any songs with less than five words in the title? Oh, I guess there's Daniel.

Anyway, anything sung by Elton John immediately transports me to a rented greyhound-like bus filled with sweaty teenagers traveling across country from Kansas to California and back. Somebody thought to bring along their collection of mixed tapes, with songs copied from their 8-tracks or record albums back home. Elton John's falsetto streaming from the speakers, sweaty couples making out, girl-cliques forming and un-forming as fast as the miles rolled by. All of the adults apparently safely at the front of the bus.

I guess I'm nostalgic for all the 70's songs as I make plans to attend my 30th high school reunion. There were some great songs in the 70's. And yes, there were some really, really bad songs. This has to be high on the list of worst songs ever to make it to the top of the charts. The sad thing is, Mark and I can sing every word.

Take it down a notch!

2009-09-08T07:00:00.002-05:00

Everyone in my house is deaf. Really, only two of us are certifiable. (Shut up. I'm talking about having a hearing deficit.) My mother-in-law wears hearing aids to assist. I do not yet, but hope to someday soon. I've never had my hearing officially checked, but it's a well know fact I can't hear. I would be easily certifiable.

My twin sister has done all the work of going to have her hearing checked and buying the hearing aids. So I really don't need a doctor to tell me I can't hear. There's some weird genetic thing that caused us both to lose some of our hearing at about the same age. Genetics are interesting. Our paternal grandmother had the same problem.

But back to the epidemic of deafness in my household. Every sentence has to be repeated at least twice. Personally, I think it's more of an attention deficit than a hearing deficit. You know it's a lack of paying attention when you wait before repeating yourself while the communication slowly works its way through the fog. Then the answer. See. I knew you heard me.

Here is where if this were a blog of some substance I'd draw a parallel between our family's attention deficit epidemic and the state of the public conversations in this country. I'd point out that if everyone would stop yelling and actually listen, we might not be building these walls of fear and anger and accusations. But that's not what this blog is about, so I'll leave it to you to draw those parallels.

I'll just go back to trying to hear those around me and trying to make myself heard. For me, the key to hearing is being in close proximity - close enough where I can see the lips moving, and understanding the context. When the back is turned, or the hand is over the mouth, something obstructs my view...forget it. For me, seeing and hearing are very much interdependent. I have to see you to hear you.

Feel free to read between the lines some more and apply your conclusions to the shouting, hearing-impaired world around us. Sheesh. Everybody, simmer down!

It's calling my name...

2009-09-06T20:38:00.000-05:00

I love this chair.
Do you ever love something so much you want to lick it? Me neither. Eeeww. But I do love this chair. I want to own it. I'm pretty sure I need to buy it just to participate in being "green", reducing my carbon footprint, practicing sustainability. I mean, read this description and tell me I'm not crazy when I say I'm actually OBLIGATED to buy this "Everglade" chair.

Furniture boasts a hardware frame using lumber from certified sustainable forest
Made In North Carolina using eco-friendlye materials
Fabric Mill donates portion of sale to The Nature Conservancy
Cool contrast welt in 100-percent organic cotton
Soy-based cushioning offers long-lasting comfort using less petroleum
No-sag spring system from recycled steel
Fabric is 100-percent certified organic cotton
Crafted using efficient processes that minimize waste and conserve natural resources
Manufacturer member of Sustainable Furnishings Council

I am not making that stuff up, people. That's what the description said on Overstock.com. I'm pretty sure purchasing this chair would speed up the economic recovery AND save the rain forest. And it would be perfect in my bedroom.

So what's the problem? I've gotten so used to buying all my furniture used or making do with hand-me-downs, I've forgotten how to buy actual quality pieces. The price is holding me back. But I can drool.

This might be worse than talking to yourself

2009-09-05T17:11:00.003-05:00

Printer Installation: It never hurts to ask...

"If there is something to gain and nothing to lose by asking, by all means ask!"

W. Clement Stone

If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy... (thank you, Rod Stewart!)

2009-09-02T07:22:00.009-05:00

In about a week I'll be headed to my high school reunion. It's been thirty years since I walked the halls of Olathe High School, in a once-small town near Kansas City. The graduates of 1979 were the last class in an era where there was only one high school in town. Now there are four or five. I've lost track.

I guess I'm one of the rare folks who enjoyed high school. I'm not saying I'd want to do it again. Certainly, there was plenty of drama and angst and questioning and, did I mention drama? I wanted to be thinner, I always wanted new clothes...I wanted to look like everyone else. But it's not like adult life isn't filled with drama too. I mean, do you WORK in an office? There are still cliques and mean girls and incompetent authority figures in the adult world. We'd all like to think that we've left high school behind, but the issues back then are often still the issues today, just in bigger pants!

It's interesting to me that some of the same locations and names are still in the news. In 1979 the Ayatollah Khomeini returned to Iran after being in exile, Saddam Hussein became president of Iraq, and the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan. Hmmm. Sounds familiar.

I hope in my own life I've moved on from the issues of an 18 year old. I hope I've learned something, grown a little, made some improvements, changed my priorities. I enjoy being 48.

But I do wish I was thinner for that 30th reunion. And I do want some new clothes. Maybe things haven't changed all that much.

This one's for Tessa

2009-08-26T13:19:00.006-05:00

I've always loved Andrew Wyeth's Master Bedroom painting. It reminds me of our own Winnie, who takes up her watchful post on our bed every morning as I get ready for work.

Apparently she loves anything upholstered! I can't blame her. She's getting pretty old in doggie years.

See what you're missing Tessa? Tell me college is more exciting than this!!! No don't. I really don't want to know exactly how exciting college is.

Generation Jones...huh?

2009-08-22T04:27:00.004-05:00

Hello 4:00 a.m., we meet again. It's Saturday morning and there's no good reason to be up, but tell that to my restless legs. But hey! I learned something this morning. I apparently have been living under a rock because I've never heard the term Generation Jones.

I'm a frequent reader of Jen-X's blog. She identifies strongly with the Generation X crowd - those born after the Baby Boomer crowd. Born in 1961 (happy birthday to me this month) I've never really identified with the Baby Boomers or the Gen X-ers.

Yes, I was alive when Kennedy was assassinated. But I was two, people! MLK and Bobby Kennedy? I was not quite seven. The Vietnam war was background noise to my Midwestern childhood, my father just barley too old to be drafted and my brother not born until the war was waning. Race riots briefly touched Kansas City. I remember being at the mall with my mother when someone interrupted the muzak to say the mall would be closing early due to said riots. My friend Susan's Dad rushed to the University of Kansas in 1968 to retrieve a college-aged child after the Student Union was burned down and the National Guard deployed. Nixon and Watergate occupied the headlines while I concentrated on sleepovers with friends.

So I'm not really a Baby Boomer. And I'm not a Gen X-er. Generation X claims Michael Jackson as an icon. Born in 1958, Michael Jackson didn't become quite the international pop icon until I was too busy raising babies to be impressed. Personal computers, video games, the Iran hostage crisis, the end of the cold war and the fall of the Berlin Wall...all I experienced as a young adult.

But, tah dah, I just found out there's a name for us folks. Generation Jones, the generation born between roughly 1954 and 1965. Who knew. Well apparently I didn't. Key characteristics?Less optimistic, distrustful of government, and generally cynical. Mmmhmm. Now we're talking.

George Clooney, Nadia Comaneci, Lady Diana, Michael J Fox, Heather Locklear, Julia Luis-Dreyfus, Jeff Probst, Meg Ryan, and of course Barack Obama - all born in 1961. So I'm in good company. Or at least interesting company! OK, yes, Andrew Fastow (think Enron) was also born in 1961, but hey, every generation has its crooks.

So at least I have a place, sort of. I don't really think "Generation Jones" is a very cool moniker. But maybe we're just not that cool as a group. Sandwiched between the hippies and the yuppies, between free love and AIDS, we are too busy trying to keep it all together.

Maybe we should be called the Polyester Generation. Like the preferred fabric of my teen years, we are low maintenance and versatile. Now if I could only claim to be wrinkle free.

The end and the beginning - it's an endless loop

2009-08-19T04:44:00.003-05:00

I'm awake and it's four in the morning. Another storm has rolled in and another bout of restless leg syndrome along with it. Not that the two are related. My legs are just protesting that they have been at rest too long and it's time to get up and move. They pretty much control my life.

Today we are scheduled to close on the Bethany house. It's not over 'till the fat lady sings, they say. Hopefully I'll be singing at 11:30 this morning!!! Then we will be down to one household. Hallelujah!!! Amen.

Mark and I are nostalgic about the Bethany house, which I suppose is perfectly normal, even though I often caught myself cursing it. Every time I started to complain in my head about that old house, I would stop and say a prayer of thanksgiving. It was a blessing, provided at a time when we needed shelter and a place to call our own. A place where our family could heal.

The list of important life events that happened during our tenure in that house is long. I won't bore you with the details. The memories are pouring into my heart and head. Beautiful girls ready for proms and formals, volleyball games well played, new found love, romance, engagement and a wedding. Attempts to make a comfortable home with furniture bought at thrift stores or handed down by generous relatives. Endless home renovations with some awesome new skills learned. And a whole collection of power tools. I love power tools.

Today marks another milestone in our life, another testament to God's goodness. Maybe I'm just getting old, but I find myself only remembering the good. There has been plenty of bad. Plenty of pain, just like anyone or group of someones who attempt to live life to the fullest would experience. But I'm choosing more often than not to remember the fun, the good, the blessed and forget the rest. Or at least learn the lessons and move on.

This is me, doing a happy dance, on my way back to bed. Maybe I can snatch another hour of sleep before the alarm goes off and the new day and era begins.

In which I ramble on about my life

2009-07-29T21:34:00.003-05:00

I was talking to Angela (eldest child) today and she complained she was double and triple booked every day this week. Meee Tooo! How does that happen? As I'm dashing from Point A to Point B to Point...XYZ, I'm praying that I don't hurt myself or anyone else, and I'm thinking about margin. You know, that edge around the paper that you don't fill up? That white space that makes documents readable? I need more white space.

Do you remember back a few months ago when I said my husband owed me jewelry? Did I tell you about that? Well, today a beautiful necklace came in the mail. It was in an envelope addressed to me, so it's not like I was snooping. I just opened it and out popped a cute little box with a tag that said "from Mark". I love the necklace. I was serious when I told him that I would like to find out if "gifts" is my love language. I'm thinking I could be converted from "acts of service".

My sister and I are doing the flowers for a friend's wedding Saturday. Today I went and picked up two huge boxes of fresh flowers, rushed them home and put them in water. They are gorgeous. I could live surrounded by flowers all the time. Too bad they are a) expensive and b) not likely to be growing in my non-existent garden any time soon. I want to live in a world where fresh flowers are on my table every day. I've read about that kind of life in old English novels, where women spend their days doing embroidery, playing the piano and arranging flowers cut from the garden. If I were in an old English novel I'd probably be the scullery maid.

My precious Mother-in-law (MPML) had her knee replaced on Monday and is a bit dazed and confused during her time in the hospital. I hate the word dementia. Isn't there a more pleasant way to discuss loss of memory and problems with confusion? If you know one, let me know. There's nothing pleasant at all about someone precious to you struggling along in an alternate universe of the mind. She is increasingly in that universe and I am sad to see it.

MPML has bonded with Winnie, our dog, during this first month of our living all together. Winnie has been moping around the house since MPML left for the hospital. To make herself feel better, Winnie has been channeling Goldilocks and trying out all the chairs in the house while we're gone.

I think I'll go to bed and dream about living in a world filled with white space and flowers, and mothers-in-law and golden retrievers reunited.

Boot Scootin' Boogie Buggie

2009-07-27T08:00:00.003-05:00

July is almost over and it has been CRAZY. KRAY-ZEE. CU.RAE.ZIE. It has been a wild ride and it's not over yet. The old house in Bethany is sold and we close in a few weeks, but we're still doing the repair things on the buyer's list. And we haven't moved our furniture out of there, but we don't have the heart to ask for any one's help because we've already moved too much too many times.

I'm thinking that hiring a few college boys when the time comes might be a good idea. Aren't they usually hungry and willing to move heavy stuff for a pizza and some cash? Personally, I've never met such college boys. But I hear they exist. Maybe we're looking in the wrong place. Maybe I should go ask the guy who stands in front of the pizza place with the big sign, dancing to the music in his head, no matter the weather. I bet he would move some furniture for cash. Most college boys just aren't hungry enough for manual labor.

Just call me middle aged and cranky. Go ahead, do it. I probably won't hear you.

Oh, I was about to sign off when I realized the "Boot Scootin' Boogie Buggie" was still hanging out there in the blog title. Angela and I saw that stenciled on a van at the Guymon Senior Center last week. I was reminded of it this morning as Mark and my father-in-law were scooting my mother-in-law out the door on their way to get her knee replaced. I think that's what I'll call their van from now on. Maybe after her knee surgery, my mother-in-law can do some boot scootin' and boogieing of her own. Prayers are appreciated.

A very lame blog entry

2009-07-17T13:30:00.002-05:00

See the explosions up there on my blog header? That will be my head soon. But hey, things are moving along. This will be the summer forever referred to as "That summer we all traded places". In-laws to Oklahoma and new house, us to aforementioned new house, Tessa to apartment in college town, us out of old house after we close on the sale. All this in 105 degrees.

Yes, I'm still alive. No, I have not forgotten you. Maybe, I will find the will to do something other than drag my aching body into bed and out again each day.

Love ya, miss ya!

empty nest empathy

2009-07-02T07:10:00.003-05:00

My sister called last night just to talk to someone who gets the pain of the empty nest. Her girls are gone for the summer, but it's just the prelude to being gone for good.

My sister and I went to live in Switzerland the first semester of our senior year in high school. My grandfather, a gifted theologian and teacher, was going there with my grandmother to teach for a semester. They were brave enough to invite two 17 year old teenagers to tag along. It was no less than a life altering experience.

I tell you that because it was my own mother's first experience with the empty nest. I remember her telling me later that she would sit at my desk in my bedroom, looking at all my high school paraphernalia, and feel the empty ache deep down in that hole that had opened up at the departure of her daughters.

I chose to go to college far away from home and again, my mother struggled privately with saying good-bye, leaving me there on the sidewalk in front of the dorm, knowing it was a temporary separation - a trial. The real leaving home would come later.

In reality, my sister and I don't really have empty nests. Our daughters may be gone, or still coming and going from college, but our houses are full. My house now holds four adults - two generations coexisting, plus Tessa for a few more weeks. We've exchanged caring for children for caring for parents. (My precious in-laws are probably wondering how it came to be that they are once again sharing their home with their children) My sister and her husband are opening their home to a couple of young women, providing transitional time and space. I think the empty nest is more of a heart issue.

Yes, we knew this day was coming --the day all of our years of mentoring, guiding, disciplining, dance-chaperoning, arguing, laughing, playing, cookie-baking, knee bandaging-- would come to an end. That's the plan, the goal, and we are grateful for it. Knowing we did our absolute best, knowing the daughters are relatively prepared for life, and leaving the light on and the bedroom available...those are the only things that soothe.

And maybe a phone call to someone who gets it.

Motivational moments

2009-06-30T19:56:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-06-29T07:53:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-26T07:30:00.009-05:00

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

2009-06-24T07:50:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-06-17T16:42:00.005-05:00

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

2009-06-16T09:57:00.011-05:00

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?

2009-06-12T21:45:00.004-05:00

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

2009-06-09T07:00:00.000-05:00

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

2009-06-08T07:00:00.000-05:00

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.

2009-06-05T14:33:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-03T16:48:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-01T07:07:00.002-05:00

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.

The view is spectacular up here

2009-05-28T06:58:00.002-05:00

My baby brother turns 40 today, which makes him not so much a baby as a middle aged man.

My middle aged bother turns 40 today. Happy Birthday Stephen! (note - I was just proof reading and realized I wrote bother instead of brother. I'm gonna leave it, because really, have you ever had a baby brother?)

I was talking to my brother on the phone the other day, discussing our upcoming family trip to visit him and explore Portland and the Oregon coast. I mentioned the fact that both he and Mark are marching over the hill. Mark turns 50 in June. Mark is waaayyyy older than me!

Stephen aptly pointed out that everyone has it backwards. It's not like everything is easier and on a breezy downhill slope when you get older. I have to agree. Everything gets harder. The knees and back hurt more readily, energy is in shorter supply, even peeing is sometimes optional -or sometimes involuntary.

According to my brilliant brother (and he is brilliant -his IQ is in the stratosphere), we should consider all of life a downhill journey until we get to middle age, at which point it turns uphill. So I guess rather than all those "Over the Hill" party supplies, they should really say "Enjoy the valley. It's all uphill from here!"

So enjoy the climb little brother. Seriously - the best years are ahead of you.

Now we really need to get moving!

2009-05-26T06:43:00.003-05:00

Sometimes life just goes along, day after day. You make plans - have a goal. But you wait, and pray, and work toward that goal, pray, then wait some more. Then suddenly, life takes a turn and things break wide open and, just like that, the desired outcome is accomplished. It's a done deal and you're sort of left staggering from the speed of the change.

Remember this post, and this and this, where I shared the desire of the in-laws to move closer to us, and for our desire and plan to share a home in order to not maintain two households or pay exorbitant assisted living apartment prices? But then the housing market went south, the economy tanked and we were left wondering if that plan was meant to be.

It all broke loose over the weekend. The house in Newton sold and the house we've had our eye on for months here in OKC will, God willing, be ours very soon. It's big enough for three generations to co-exist peacefully when the nest is temporarily filled with a returning college student. Plenty of room for the two couples to live harmoniously. The negotiating and contract writing is done and the turn around time is fast. Now we need to put our house on the market.

So this is Cari, doing a happy dance. Well, truthfully, I'm too exhausted from all the work we did on our house over the weekend to prepare it for selling. But this is Cari, doing a happy dance in her head.

Either you love it or you don't

2009-05-22T06:58:00.000-05:00

As a rule I've not been a big fan of beards and mustaches. I mean, there are occasionally men who look better with a beard or mustache than without. I've never met a woman who looks better in either. Which is why I'm a big fan of a good wax job.

My first boyfriend showed up one day sporting a mustache. I wouldn't talk to him until he shaved. Yuck. OK, Mark went through a brief period of beardedness and it looked pretty good. Wish I had a picture. But it was too itchy, and it kind of bothered Mark too.

But there's good news for those who admire a good face full of the prickly stuff. You might want to plan a vacation to Anchorage, Alaska in June for the World Beard and Moustache Championships. (photo from http://www.time.com/)

I never cease to be amazed by how people join together. If you have a hobby, an illness, a cause, there's a group for that. The Internet adds a whole new dimension to this type of community. Interesting.

Wondering if there are any Okies registered at the National Beard Registry? You betcha. My favorite is Santa Charley - Charles Wright from Medicine Park. That's a 40 year old beard! Alright, I appreciate Santa beards. But that's a whole 'nother category.

Intervention!!!

2009-05-21T07:13:00.003-05:00

Tessa and I did a shoe intervention with Angela last week. That girl is so frugal she squeaks when she walks. Wait, maybe that's the lousy shoes. We caught her wearing a pair of shoes that Tessa had worn well and thrown out a couple of years ago. How they ended up with Angela and how they ended up making regular appearances on her feet I do not know. We took her by the hand and walked her through the miracle that is the Ross shoe isle. See Angela, pretty shoes, designer names even, for less than $12.

I've made my daughters swear they won't submit my name for a "What Not To Wear" intervention. Not that I wouldn't love to spend a week and $5,000 in New York City. I just don't want to be publicly humiliated on TLC. Well, OK maybe for a week and $5,000 in New York City. But I humbly suggest that I would have to fake it, since I, in fact, already know what not to wear. But I could go buy some tacky clothing, holey t-shirts and a fanny pack and put on a pretty good show. Stacy and Clinton can probably smell a fake from a mile off. Probably wouldn't work.

Sense of style is an interesting thing. Is it nature or nurture? There's an important question to ponder for today. I'm going with nature.

I need a personal assistant

2009-05-20T06:59:00.002-05:00

I wish I had energy to match all the stuff swirling around in my brain. So many things I should, could, aught to do. After a long day at work and after a pleasant and companionable walk with my favorite husband, there just isn't much left. I have to tell my active brain to shut up already and let me rest.

Does anyone else have this problem? Maybe if I could just hire one of those personal concierge services. I could call them up and give them the list of unfinished things. They are simple things really. They just don't get done. Return those clothes that didn't fit, take that outfit to the cleaners, load up and drop off the stuff meant for Goodwill, re-pot that root bound plant, return the book I borrowed.

"I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow". I totally get Scarlett O'Hara.