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

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?

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

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

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

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.

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

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

Yawn...

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!

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

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.

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

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

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

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!

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

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

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

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

Sometimes the Olympics Are Hard to Watch!

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

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

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.

Culture Notes - some high, some low

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.