My world

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.

What'chu lookin' at?

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

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.

The rest of the story

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!!

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!

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!

SKUNK!!

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!!

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

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.

An apple a day and other tall tales

Let's talk about food, shall we? Have you been watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution? 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

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.

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.

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.

Swimming in a river of happy

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.

Too Much Information

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.

Six Degrees of Creepy

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?!

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.

1. 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.
2. 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.
3. 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!
4. 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)
5. 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.

Silly is as silly does. Or something like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Either you love it or you don't

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.

I'm not Grace Kelly

I've gotten so used to hiding indoors, trying to stay dry, that I almost didn't know what to do with myself when the sun came out for about six hours yesterday. Mark went to mow the overgrown grounds of The Wilds all evening, so I took advantage of the free hours, hopped in my car and took a drive with the top down. I drive a convertible, but in Oklahoma perfect convertible weather is very rare. Too hot, too cold, too windy, too wet. Plus, the inside of the car has to be clean so you don't have trash swirling up and out of your car like an overloaded trash truck. Not that my car is trashed or anything. But who wants the receipt from your last trip to the drive-through ATM to go flying out, or that empty Sonic bag to jump out and pummel the unsuspecting driver behind you? Conditions have to be just right to put the top down.

Last night was one of those rare occasions. I wanted some flowers for the front flower beds, and the trip to buy them wouldn't involve any interstate driving -because I also don't like driving on the freeway with the top down...too windy - so down came the top. Yes, I'm picky.

Maybe I'm just not a convertible type person. I'm very private. I know! You're thinking - she writes a blog and is on Facebook and Twitter. But I decide what to put out there. The level of shareage is up to me. When I drive around with the top down in my car I feel very exposed. It's like "Hey everybody, look at me! I'm wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt because I've been working in the yard". I feel like I should put on big sunglasses and a cut little sweater and wrap a scarf around my neck like an old Grace Kelly movie when driving in a convertible. Most of the time I feel like "Yes, I'm driving a convertible, and yes, I'm just not that cool".

If I asked my mother, she'd say that no one is looking at me. She used to tell me that in junior high when I felt awkward or was embarrassed by something. She'd point out that really, no one cared as much as I thought they did. But really? When I'm sitting at an intersection waiting for the light to change, I'm pretty sure people are looking at the person in the convertible. I would be.

I'm thinking I should embrace the inner extrovert that is trying to find its way out of the dark cave of my introverted life. If you've got it, flaunt it, right?

It looks like it's shaping up to be a rainy morning, so cave dwelling is acceptable for another day.