Christmas is coming and the geese are getting fat.
Please put a penny in the poor man's hat.
If you haven't got a penny, then a ha'penny will do.
If you haven't got a ha'penny then God bless you.
My mother sang this little English ditty to me when I was young. To me, it elicits the whole Dickens Christmas Carol story, and every Christmas it pops into my head almost as if Mother were still here to remind me about what's really important.
Christmas is such a big event when we are young. As we grow older, it changes. Life tends to intrude on the "magic" of the season, and we start to shift priorities to make everything fit together. Many of my friends and family had simple Christmases this year. It's really a relief in many ways. While we still have a kid at home, he's a teenager, so it was easy to scale down. We had a pretty tree, we had gifts for him, we had a great dinner. We spent the morning and early afternoon together as a family, and truly enjoyed it. The late afternoon and evening were spent relaxing -- reading, puttering, watching a movie. DS went off to visit friends.
When my parents decided to forgo the big tree and extravagant display I was shocked. How could they ignore the season that way? Now, I am thinking that their little ceramic tree with the LightGlo lights wasn't such a bad idea after all. There are other things that need attention, even over the holidays.
This year, it seems that DH's sister might beat the odds on a diagnosis that is usually a death sentence. Being at the hospital for her surgery, I got to know my 3 adult nephews by marriage, who I had met many times, but never really connected with. They are awesome young men. We got to spend time with another sister who came from far away to be with us for the surgery. We have spoken almost daily to everyone in the family. We connected in a way that I don't wish on younger people, but is meaningful and important. It goes far beyond the obligatory Christmas phone call.
Life has a way of showing us what is important. Christmas makes us a little more open to thinking about these things in a different way. I am grateful to have this miracle, and I am grateful for all the family and friends who have supported us through this, and who are there for us even when the holiday season doesn't demand it.
To each and every one of you special people, Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy, prosperous New Year.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Alachua County Judge Mark Mosely
When my family requested a restraining order against a 16 year old kid who has terrorized my son with a pellet gun, a Molotov cocktail, a 2x4, and a gang of people who wanted to fight one boy (my son); when evidence proves that this 16 year old stole my son's cell phone and sold his SIM card (costing me well over $125); when this kid stalked my son on campus and attacked him at a friend's home; and when this kid's friends are bragging that he vandalized my son's car to the tune of more than $500; Judge Mark Mosely decided that there was insufficient evidence to issue a temporary 2-week restraining order and that we needed to wait 2 weeks until we could have a court hearing. This harrassment has gone on for more than 3 weeks. The SFCC police daprtment and ASO are taking this complaint seriously. Judge Mosely apparently doesn't think that upstanding citizens deserve the protection of the court.
While I have filed a supplemental affadavit for the restraining order, the court tells me it will be 3-5 days before a decision. Every day that this kid is free from legal action is a potential problem. Thanks very much, Judge Mosely. Anything can happen in the interim. I hope you realize that it will be your repsonsibility if things go awry.
Please let everyone know how Judge Mark Mosely handled this request for a restraining order, We are professional people, upstanding citizens, and have no previous record. If I am paying this guy's salary (and I am) I expect a little more consideration.
While I have filed a supplemental affadavit for the restraining order, the court tells me it will be 3-5 days before a decision. Every day that this kid is free from legal action is a potential problem. Thanks very much, Judge Mosely. Anything can happen in the interim. I hope you realize that it will be your repsonsibility if things go awry.
Please let everyone know how Judge Mark Mosely handled this request for a restraining order, We are professional people, upstanding citizens, and have no previous record. If I am paying this guy's salary (and I am) I expect a little more consideration.
No Protection from the Court
The court denied my request for a restraining order. The did set a hearing date, 2 weeks from now. I don't think I can take 2 more weeks of this. I'm filing a supplemental affadavit, but my optimism isn't too great at this point.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Many Thanks
To all my friends, family, extended family, and friends of friends:
Thanks to each of you who have provided so much support to me during times of stress. You know who you are. Without you, life would be much tougher. Although every one of us experiences bad times along with the good, you have each helped me to remember that the bad times are simply are necessary part of living.
I am deeply grateful for each and every one of you. And Sma, I still sleep with the blanket you made for me every night. No day goes by without my remembering how much you gave to me during that especially rough time.
Life is about relationships, and each of you are special. Thank you so much for being the wonderful people you are.
Much love,
Deb
Thanks to each of you who have provided so much support to me during times of stress. You know who you are. Without you, life would be much tougher. Although every one of us experiences bad times along with the good, you have each helped me to remember that the bad times are simply are necessary part of living.
I am deeply grateful for each and every one of you. And Sma, I still sleep with the blanket you made for me every night. No day goes by without my remembering how much you gave to me during that especially rough time.
Life is about relationships, and each of you are special. Thank you so much for being the wonderful people you are.
Much love,
Deb
You Are Judged by the Company You Keep
I used to roll my eyes when my mother would make statements about being judged by the company you keep, along with a lot of other things. Sorry, Mom. I wish you were here so I could tell you how right you were. But I never kept really bad company, so I couldn't really understand the true meaning (and truth) behind this particular saying.
I've learned it now, though, the hard way. My family's life is now controlled by one sick individual who my son became acquainted with over the summer. This kid (Jon) is the next door neighbor of my son's best friend. He is 16 years old. His parents are doctors. They leave him alone 3 - 4 nights per week while they spend time at their beach house. He deals drugs from their home. He steals from other kids. He stole my son's cell phone "as a joke" and sold his SIM card. (We have proof of this.) He threatens people. He trashed my son's car to the tune of more than $500.
Jon has recently decided that some money was taken from his room. He has also decided that my son and his friend are the only ones who could have done this. At least that is his excuse for terrorizing all of us, assaulting my kid's friend's house, and stalking them both on campus with threats and demands to fight. Nevermind that he was probably too stoned to know if he ever really had the money, where he left it, or how he might have spent it.
We've reported it all to SFCC police, who have been very helpful. We've also had to report it to ASO, who were also very helpful. Now, we have to obtain a restraining order just to try to protect ourselves. I hate having to drag all this law enforcement into my life. The worst thing I've ever done was get a speeding ticket.
I'm embarrassed, but worse, I am scared. We can't get the car fixed until we know this is over. We cannot afford to continually repair vandalism. There are constant threats that come in via text messages and voice mail (ASO was pretty shocked to hear those). My son's best friend lives next door to Jon, and his parents have witnessed the drug activity and the assault on their house, but are too scared to make an official complaint. Jon has already hurt one of their dogs, and they are afraid to file a complaint because they think he will hurt their dogs again or worse.
Jon's parents don't care a bit. When they were told by their neighbors about suspicious activity at their home when they are gone, they waited 3 weeks to respond and then asked the neighbors to watch their house. Maybe a restraining order will get their attention, but I doubt it.
It doesn't take much to get involved with the wrong crowd. It can be a huge task to get uninvolved. We had hoped that the whole thing would burn itself out if ignored, but that isn't the case here.
Let's face it, if my son and his friend had never gotten involved with this jerk none of this would be happening. However, at the ripe old age of 17, none of us is really very well versed in the ways of the world. One out-of-control kid can wreak havoc that you cannot even begin to imagine.
If anyone has any good ideas about stopping this, let me know. In the meantime, I highly recommend getting a wonderful dog over having children. Dogs don't talk, don't make friends you don't want them to have, and are always happy to see you. They are predictable and reliable. They rarely cause terrible stress on your home life.
Damn, I need a vacation. Too bad I'm afraid to leave town.
I've learned it now, though, the hard way. My family's life is now controlled by one sick individual who my son became acquainted with over the summer. This kid (Jon) is the next door neighbor of my son's best friend. He is 16 years old. His parents are doctors. They leave him alone 3 - 4 nights per week while they spend time at their beach house. He deals drugs from their home. He steals from other kids. He stole my son's cell phone "as a joke" and sold his SIM card. (We have proof of this.) He threatens people. He trashed my son's car to the tune of more than $500.
Jon has recently decided that some money was taken from his room. He has also decided that my son and his friend are the only ones who could have done this. At least that is his excuse for terrorizing all of us, assaulting my kid's friend's house, and stalking them both on campus with threats and demands to fight. Nevermind that he was probably too stoned to know if he ever really had the money, where he left it, or how he might have spent it.
We've reported it all to SFCC police, who have been very helpful. We've also had to report it to ASO, who were also very helpful. Now, we have to obtain a restraining order just to try to protect ourselves. I hate having to drag all this law enforcement into my life. The worst thing I've ever done was get a speeding ticket.
I'm embarrassed, but worse, I am scared. We can't get the car fixed until we know this is over. We cannot afford to continually repair vandalism. There are constant threats that come in via text messages and voice mail (ASO was pretty shocked to hear those). My son's best friend lives next door to Jon, and his parents have witnessed the drug activity and the assault on their house, but are too scared to make an official complaint. Jon has already hurt one of their dogs, and they are afraid to file a complaint because they think he will hurt their dogs again or worse.
Jon's parents don't care a bit. When they were told by their neighbors about suspicious activity at their home when they are gone, they waited 3 weeks to respond and then asked the neighbors to watch their house. Maybe a restraining order will get their attention, but I doubt it.
It doesn't take much to get involved with the wrong crowd. It can be a huge task to get uninvolved. We had hoped that the whole thing would burn itself out if ignored, but that isn't the case here.
Let's face it, if my son and his friend had never gotten involved with this jerk none of this would be happening. However, at the ripe old age of 17, none of us is really very well versed in the ways of the world. One out-of-control kid can wreak havoc that you cannot even begin to imagine.
If anyone has any good ideas about stopping this, let me know. In the meantime, I highly recommend getting a wonderful dog over having children. Dogs don't talk, don't make friends you don't want them to have, and are always happy to see you. They are predictable and reliable. They rarely cause terrible stress on your home life.
Damn, I need a vacation. Too bad I'm afraid to leave town.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Tenants from Hell
Actually, most of our tenants are pretty good people. Like the rest of us, they have their idiosyncrasies, but generally speaking they are good, normal folks just like the rest of us. Recently, though, we have had the tenants from hell. I might post a few photos just to show you how awful things can be, but what made this worse was that this guy was my advisee when he was a freshman. I remembered (too late) his mother telling me, "he's not a bad kid, but he's always trying to make the system work for him." Then, when I checked around the college, I found that he had a reputation for "acting without authorization". He has a degree in the highest paying field on the planet, but cannot get a job. (At least the employers are on their toes.) We had to make them leave after only 6 weeks in the place. Here's the letter I really wanted to send him after he tried to make a case for his security deposit. (Trust me here, we are well known for returning entire security deposits unless there is a legit problem.)
*********************************************************
THE LETTER I WISH I COULD SEND
***************************************************************
These people were awful in the worst sense. While you were evicting them, they would invite you in to sit down. I would not have let one of my dogs sit in that place. I have never seen a frat house that messy. They are so ignorant of the world. She is pregnant, he is unemployed, they are unmarried. They moved to his parents' home after we asked them to leave. (His parents are a lawyer and a doctor, so no hardship there.) I will never rent again to someone I "know". This whole mess has cost us a fortune and really affected my faith in humanity.
*********************************************************
THE LETTER I WISH I COULD SEND
Dear Minions of Satan:
Further correspondence with you is made tolerable only by my deep faith that your ignorance and gall are not contagious, and that in time the memory of your toxic trip through our lives will serve as a warning for others. You are never satisfied. It’s insufficient for you to have been born stupid – you insist on seeking to increase your birthright in every utterance.
In response to your brilliant letter regarding the security deposit deductions, let us first state that you obviously don’t know a damn thing about the law, life, or much of anything else.
Couch disposal. The couch was still in the cottage on the evening of October XX, 2006. That it somehow migrated to the patio after this time is irrelevant. E--- stated at the time that your intention was to give it to Goodwill (also irrelevant). It really doesn’t matter if you had left the freakin’ thing on the roof. You abandoned it, we had to dispose of it, and you are, in fact, according to the law, responsible for it’s removal. Dumbass.
Carpet repair. Of course you are unaware of any damages to the carpet. Even if you thought you had damaged it,
- you wouldn’t admit it, and
- you couldn't possibly know because you couldn’t see any of the carpet while you two were in residence. While we can easily believe that you never used an iron during your tenancy, and we might have jumped to an erroneous conclusion in thinking that either of you would utilize such an appliance, the burn to the carpet did, in fact, occur after you moved in.
Carpet Cleaning. OK, sure. You cleaned the carpets. We should know that from the bits of lint all over the carpet during the inspection at 6:30 pm on Oct. XX, 2006. It’s also backed up by your note that says “carpets cleaned” that showed up sometime after October XX. It is further supported by your bluster and a significant lack of real documentation. Had you cleaned the carpets, your responsibility was to notify us ahead of time. We simply don't believe you.
GRU Bills. So which is it, Genius? Either you were out of the premises before October xx, and therefore abandoned the couch in the living room, or you were still in residence and are responsible for the GRU bills? Hah! It doesn’t matter what you say, because by your very own logic you are trapped. The cottage was inspected on the evening of October xx. You had left furniture there and not yet returned keys or left your note stating that the keys were with the other tenants. You obviously used power on October xx, and very likely on October xx+1, as well. The GRU bill for this period stands.
As for the remaining utilities, unbunch your panties, Idiot Boy. This amount has been held out simply as security – as agreed in the original agreement for you to vacate – until the actual bill comes in. At that time, we’ll refund any difference to you and provide a copy of the bill.
We truly hope that this finalizes any further correspondence with you beyond mailing the final GRU bill. Your tenancy, brief though it was, has truly demonstrated that some people stay longer in an hour than others can in a week.
***************************************************************
These people were awful in the worst sense. While you were evicting them, they would invite you in to sit down. I would not have let one of my dogs sit in that place. I have never seen a frat house that messy. They are so ignorant of the world. She is pregnant, he is unemployed, they are unmarried. They moved to his parents' home after we asked them to leave. (His parents are a lawyer and a doctor, so no hardship there.) I will never rent again to someone I "know". This whole mess has cost us a fortune and really affected my faith in humanity.
Thursday, November 09, 2006
I Recommend Small Dogs Over Children
Just in case any of you out there are wondering, small dogs are a much better choice than children. While your beautiful golden haired child will thrill you for several years, he will eventually turn into a teenager and make you wish you were dead. My advice: don't breed. Adopt a small dog who will always love you and who you can put to sleep when it gets to be too much. Motherhood sucks.
Dedicated to the girls who have been here before
My dignity depends on a small piece of elastic. Usually benign, inconsequential, and given little thought, this modern substitute for the drawstring simplifies our lives in many ways. It helps our clothes conform to our bodies. It eliminates unsightly bulges where unwelcome drawstring knots would appear. Today, elastic was the enemy.
I left my office this afternoon delighted at the thought of a long weekend. As I walked down the hall, I felt a strange tightness around my hips. Damn! I know I gained back 2 pounds, but this skirt has never felt like this before. Time to hop on the treadmill and get over the Burrito Brother's Primo Beef Burrito I had for lunch. OK, I can do that. As I walked to the parking lot, that strange, binding feeling started to move lower, creeping from high on my hip to the top of my thighs. @#$*! I can't be gaining weight that fast! OK, so I had a couple of chips, too, but gee whiz, I'm still way under my points for the day. How can one burrito make me so fat so soon?
Now I am hurrying. If I walk a little faster, I can burn off a few extra calories, right? That tight feeling is now midway to my thighs. This is a full, flouncy skirt. What is going on?
I step off the curb, my vehicle in sight. I look down as I step, and see a flash of beige hovering around my ankles. What the ....?
Ladies, there in full view of any passerby was my slip, sliding south, ready to tangle me up in an undignified knot and topple me face first to the pavement. Betrayed by my very own undergarments! The same ones I have carefully washed on delicate and dried on low heat.
Two thoughts came to mind immediately. The first, I am on my way to an appointment, I can't wear this skirt without a slip. So I climbed into my car, and carefully tucked the offending and now useless elastic into my pantyhose. The second thought was that this was really pretty funny. I am not the only one who has been here. Reference my pal's blog . Her Mom and my grandmother also related similar experiences.
Sometimes I guess we just need a little quirky experience to make us stop taking life so seriously. I mean really, it could have been much worse. I remember seeing a woman in a restaurant whose skirt had gotten tucked into her panty hose when she used the ladies room. We all had an eyefull of pantyhose and buttocks that evening. Thank the gods for small mercies.
I left my office this afternoon delighted at the thought of a long weekend. As I walked down the hall, I felt a strange tightness around my hips. Damn! I know I gained back 2 pounds, but this skirt has never felt like this before. Time to hop on the treadmill and get over the Burrito Brother's Primo Beef Burrito I had for lunch. OK, I can do that. As I walked to the parking lot, that strange, binding feeling started to move lower, creeping from high on my hip to the top of my thighs. @#$*! I can't be gaining weight that fast! OK, so I had a couple of chips, too, but gee whiz, I'm still way under my points for the day. How can one burrito make me so fat so soon?
Now I am hurrying. If I walk a little faster, I can burn off a few extra calories, right? That tight feeling is now midway to my thighs. This is a full, flouncy skirt. What is going on?
I step off the curb, my vehicle in sight. I look down as I step, and see a flash of beige hovering around my ankles. What the ....?
Ladies, there in full view of any passerby was my slip, sliding south, ready to tangle me up in an undignified knot and topple me face first to the pavement. Betrayed by my very own undergarments! The same ones I have carefully washed on delicate and dried on low heat.
Two thoughts came to mind immediately. The first, I am on my way to an appointment, I can't wear this skirt without a slip. So I climbed into my car, and carefully tucked the offending and now useless elastic into my pantyhose. The second thought was that this was really pretty funny. I am not the only one who has been here. Reference my pal's blog . Her Mom and my grandmother also related similar experiences.
Sometimes I guess we just need a little quirky experience to make us stop taking life so seriously. I mean really, it could have been much worse. I remember seeing a woman in a restaurant whose skirt had gotten tucked into her panty hose when she used the ladies room. We all had an eyefull of pantyhose and buttocks that evening. Thank the gods for small mercies.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The Memory of Your Perfume Will Linger...
Oh yes, the memory of your perfume will stay with me for a long, long time. Once you walked into the restaurant, I could no longer taste my food. In fact, I could barely breathe. Your perfume - you know, the one you think will make you irresistable - has me reaching for my cell phone to call 911 and gasping for oxygen.
Fragrances have been in use for thousands of years. They have been incorporated into many cultures, and aromatherapy is popular today as a way to relieve stress. Most often, perfumes and colognes are used to subtly attract the opposite sex. Subtle is the key word here. The main idea of perfume as an attractant is to leave a mysterious trace of inviting fragrance in the air.
Often, it seems like perfume is used as an assault weapon. Instead of leaving that lingering trace of scent, oblivious idiots are leaving trails of asphyxiated victims in their wake. I recently sat in a restaurant with a woman who explained how to layer perfume so it wouldn't wear off. First, wash in the body wash, then slather yourself with the matching body lotion. Follow this with an all over heavy mist of the actual perfume. I can tell you that there is no chance that this perfume would wear off over the course of an evening. It is probably responsible for destroying much of the ozone layer and would not wear off sooner than the half-life of plutonium.
If you have ever been trapped in a plane, an office, a car, or any other place with someone who believes in the "more is better" approach to scents, you probably know what I mean. Many perfumes today use a synthetic base guaranteed to trigger respiratory reactions in a large percentage of the population. Boys, girls, men, and women all seem to think that dousing themselves with extra fragrance will somehow enhance their popularity. It's unlikely that they ever consider that their over indulgence will intrude on someone else's ability to breathe.
Don't get me wrong. I like things that smell good. However, I resent things that are imposed on me and ruin my meal or cause respiratory distress. Too much perfume is not attractive, it is simply obnoxious. An extra dose of perfume will not make you more attractive. How embarrassing would it be to go out thinking you smell like heaven and having your date end up in the ER because you triggered an asthma attack?
People who wear lots of strong scents become accustomed to them and cannot smell them at all. That's not the case for innocent bystanders who are subjected to the univited and unwanted battering of their olfactory senses.
I am thinking of having cards made up that say "The memory of your perfume lingers" with a check box for
When you put on that perfume that you think is so delightful, think quality not quantity. As mother used to say, a little bit goes a long way. More is not better.
Fragrances have been in use for thousands of years. They have been incorporated into many cultures, and aromatherapy is popular today as a way to relieve stress. Most often, perfumes and colognes are used to subtly attract the opposite sex. Subtle is the key word here. The main idea of perfume as an attractant is to leave a mysterious trace of inviting fragrance in the air.
Often, it seems like perfume is used as an assault weapon. Instead of leaving that lingering trace of scent, oblivious idiots are leaving trails of asphyxiated victims in their wake. I recently sat in a restaurant with a woman who explained how to layer perfume so it wouldn't wear off. First, wash in the body wash, then slather yourself with the matching body lotion. Follow this with an all over heavy mist of the actual perfume. I can tell you that there is no chance that this perfume would wear off over the course of an evening. It is probably responsible for destroying much of the ozone layer and would not wear off sooner than the half-life of plutonium.
If you have ever been trapped in a plane, an office, a car, or any other place with someone who believes in the "more is better" approach to scents, you probably know what I mean. Many perfumes today use a synthetic base guaranteed to trigger respiratory reactions in a large percentage of the population. Boys, girls, men, and women all seem to think that dousing themselves with extra fragrance will somehow enhance their popularity. It's unlikely that they ever consider that their over indulgence will intrude on someone else's ability to breathe.
Don't get me wrong. I like things that smell good. However, I resent things that are imposed on me and ruin my meal or cause respiratory distress. Too much perfume is not attractive, it is simply obnoxious. An extra dose of perfume will not make you more attractive. How embarrassing would it be to go out thinking you smell like heaven and having your date end up in the ER because you triggered an asthma attack?
People who wear lots of strong scents become accustomed to them and cannot smell them at all. That's not the case for innocent bystanders who are subjected to the univited and unwanted battering of their olfactory senses.
I am thinking of having cards made up that say "The memory of your perfume lingers" with a check box for
- I could no longer taste my food
- I could not breathe
- I'd like to send you my ambulance bill
When you put on that perfume that you think is so delightful, think quality not quantity. As mother used to say, a little bit goes a long way. More is not better.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
What's Really Important?
I work at a large university where the students pride themselves on being involved, being aware, and taking charge of events. When Facebook implemented changes that allowed every user's movement to be tracked instantly, these students banded together with lightning speed to protest the changes. They formed a new group of disgruntled users and encouraged everyone to boycott the site. In no time at all, Facebook discontinued the unwelcome and intrusive changes. One student posted a message saying "If we can do this, imagine what else we can accomplish!"
I applaud their efforts. It's good to know that our students are not apathetic and that they don't just accept things because they don't believe they can change them. The ability to act for change is what this country is based on. Bravo.
What is truly disturbing is that these same students who will force a corporate entity to meet their needs are not willing to assist a fellow human being in distress. When I walked to my office from the parking lot yesterday it was impossible not to see the young woman lying unconscious by a picnic table near the O'Connell Center. Her chin was scraped and bleeding from where she had hit it on the bench when she fainted. Her belongings were strewn around her. As I approached, I watched countless pedestrians and cars pass by, each of them looking, but not one of them stopping to help. Then, four young women stopped, called 911, and very carefully and gently assisted their fellow student in distress. They waited until help arrived before moving on. Wherever they were headed, they put their own agendas aside to assist. They should be commended for doing the right thing and for acting with genuine concern and compassion.
The world needs more people like these four. While we have come to accept this kind of "I don't want to get involved" apathy in many places, this is not what we should expect - or accept - on the University of Florida campus.
I hope that those who passed on by will spend at least a few moments wondering why they couldn't be bothered.
I applaud their efforts. It's good to know that our students are not apathetic and that they don't just accept things because they don't believe they can change them. The ability to act for change is what this country is based on. Bravo.
What is truly disturbing is that these same students who will force a corporate entity to meet their needs are not willing to assist a fellow human being in distress. When I walked to my office from the parking lot yesterday it was impossible not to see the young woman lying unconscious by a picnic table near the O'Connell Center. Her chin was scraped and bleeding from where she had hit it on the bench when she fainted. Her belongings were strewn around her. As I approached, I watched countless pedestrians and cars pass by, each of them looking, but not one of them stopping to help. Then, four young women stopped, called 911, and very carefully and gently assisted their fellow student in distress. They waited until help arrived before moving on. Wherever they were headed, they put their own agendas aside to assist. They should be commended for doing the right thing and for acting with genuine concern and compassion.
The world needs more people like these four. While we have come to accept this kind of "I don't want to get involved" apathy in many places, this is not what we should expect - or accept - on the University of Florida campus.
I hope that those who passed on by will spend at least a few moments wondering why they couldn't be bothered.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Maria Sharapova Should Fire Her PR Team
Maria Sharapova is the highest paid woman athlete in the world. She is an incredible tennis player who knocks the socks off most ofl the competition. Why isn't this enough? This poor girl's PR team has decided that Maria should be equivalent to today's supermodels. They have designed a pathetic series of PR commercials to promote Maria as something she is not. Maria Sharapova is a kick-ass athlete. She is a far cry from the supermodel femme fatale that her promoters want us to see. Just watch her "Power Shot" commercial if you aren't convinced. She knocks off a hundred killer tennis serves, and then sallies up to the camera with a shoulder wag as uncomfortable as a boy in a dress. Now we are subjected to a bunch of idiots singing "I Feel Pretty" while our supposedly pretty heroine stomps through their ranks with a sour scowl on her face and ultimately rewards us with one of her oh-so-feminine signature grunts as she smashes the ball. Give me a break.
Maria is attractive enough, but hardly supermodel pretty. She is more the girl next door with a killer swing and a grunt that would make King Kong jealous. Besides, setting her up as the next "glamour girl" diminishes her accomplishments. She is a fantastic athlete. What is wrong with focusing on that? She doesn't need to compete with Paris Hilton. Unlike Ms. Hilton, Maria has actually accomplished something that should make her proud to be the athlete that she is. Why does she need to be seen as some kind of pinup girl when she has so many accolades for what she has truly done?
Lately she has appeared at the US Open wearing a black sequined outfit cut so low in the back that I wonder if we are meant to focus on her game or her outfit. Instead of promoting her success, her PR team is promoting her [supposed] sex appeal. Nevermind that she is awkward in these settings, there is apparently a buck to be made.
Maria has the potential to make great things happen. She is in an incredibly influential position. Will she use her fame to make a difference? Or will she become just another of the Hollywood bimbos that we have more than enough of?
The choice is hers. She can become someone who makes a difference, or she can become another starlet wanna-be and waste her accomplishments by trying to be something she is not. Her PR team would do her a huge favor by not trying to promote her as the sexiest thing on the planet. Leave that to those who have the looks but little else. Why not let her be what she is? Why isn't that enough?
Maria is attractive enough, but hardly supermodel pretty. She is more the girl next door with a killer swing and a grunt that would make King Kong jealous. Besides, setting her up as the next "glamour girl" diminishes her accomplishments. She is a fantastic athlete. What is wrong with focusing on that? She doesn't need to compete with Paris Hilton. Unlike Ms. Hilton, Maria has actually accomplished something that should make her proud to be the athlete that she is. Why does she need to be seen as some kind of pinup girl when she has so many accolades for what she has truly done?
Lately she has appeared at the US Open wearing a black sequined outfit cut so low in the back that I wonder if we are meant to focus on her game or her outfit. Instead of promoting her success, her PR team is promoting her [supposed] sex appeal. Nevermind that she is awkward in these settings, there is apparently a buck to be made.
Maria has the potential to make great things happen. She is in an incredibly influential position. Will she use her fame to make a difference? Or will she become just another of the Hollywood bimbos that we have more than enough of?
The choice is hers. She can become someone who makes a difference, or she can become another starlet wanna-be and waste her accomplishments by trying to be something she is not. Her PR team would do her a huge favor by not trying to promote her as the sexiest thing on the planet. Leave that to those who have the looks but little else. Why not let her be what she is? Why isn't that enough?
Thursday, September 07, 2006
OK, I've had it with RTS
Well, we've been complaining for 3 weeks now abut the traffic in Gainesburg, and it would be unfair to say that the opening of 2nd Ave. hasn't improved it some. But I still don't get why it's OK for RTS busses to block intersections on the yellow light. I mean, really, how much is that going to keep them on schedule? I thought that blocking intersections (whether you are a car or a bus) was wrong. Today at Museum and Gale Lemerand, I watched two busses block the intersection (each coming from opposing directions on Museum), and then make aggravated gestures at the drivers who should have had the right of way. RTS does a pretty good job of keeping on schedule, and that's admirable. But when they prevent the rest of us from getting where we are going, they are doing no public service. Honestly, these two drivers -- who were totally blocking the interstection -- were mad at the drivers who had the right of way. Aren't they supposed to be "professional" drivers? Shouldn't we expect them to abide by the rules of the road?
This is really stupid.
This is really stupid.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Adventures in Weight Loss
It's been several weeks since my pal Jess and I embarked on yet another adventure. Please understand that we have been involved in many adventures, some voluntary, some planned, and some totally out of the blue. This one we planned. Jess is a consummate planner (I am, too, she just has a better track record of making our ideas happen.) She is such a fabulous detail person. I'm always the one saying "what if...." My life without Jess is really not nearly as fun and productive as my life with Jess. We are outstanding partners, even though we don't agree on everything. We have this wonderful friendship that allows us to totally ignore each others' frailties.
OK, enough of that maudlin crud. A couple of months ago, I got really, really tired of listening to myself whine about not being able to lose the 15 pounds necessary to feel like a human being again. I got tired of feeling like Shamu, and really annoyed with myself for the whining. I used to be a very skinny person. I was not a skinny person any more. Every Monday I would wake up with a new mission....to lose this weight that was weighing me down. Every Friday I was a failure. Please don't think that stopped my eternal optimism. Each Monday I began again. the trouble was, I didn't have a clue about how to lose the weight. If I had the money back for every diet book I have bought, for every diet pill (Hey, Hydroxycut, you did NOTHING), I would be a rich woman.
I joined Weight Watchers, the last bastion of the hopelessly overweight. I did feel a little funny about it, but hey, nothing else was working. Within a short time, Jess agreed to give it try, too. With her usual enthusiasm (and ability to get up early) she jumped right in and began walking at 4:00 am. (She's an early riser, OK? She gets to work at 6:00.) I wish I could say that I had the same comittment to early morning exercise, but I have been good about using my treadmill. I am happy to report that Jess and I have (officially, as of today) lost a total of 20 pounds.
I tried to tell one of my coworkers who has been struggling with weight about our new "lifestyle". She assured me that she was eating like a bird. I think that's the problem. Birds eat their own body weight daily. She is still struggling, and I am strutting on the beach.
Jess and I are thrilled. We are accomplishing our goals. We are feeling better, looking better, and understanding that this is totally under our control. After the Labor Day weekend and a dinner at my favorite restaurant, I still lost 1.4 lbs. Come one you guys, it's not that hard once you finally take a real look at WHAT you are eating. That's what I never did before. A little of this, a little of that, didn't seem like much at all. It turned out to be more than I expected. We have all gotten to expect that servings should be super-sized and that we are immune to reality. You can lose it if you want to...
Join us in our adventure...you'll be glad you did.
OK, enough of that maudlin crud. A couple of months ago, I got really, really tired of listening to myself whine about not being able to lose the 15 pounds necessary to feel like a human being again. I got tired of feeling like Shamu, and really annoyed with myself for the whining. I used to be a very skinny person. I was not a skinny person any more. Every Monday I would wake up with a new mission....to lose this weight that was weighing me down. Every Friday I was a failure. Please don't think that stopped my eternal optimism. Each Monday I began again. the trouble was, I didn't have a clue about how to lose the weight. If I had the money back for every diet book I have bought, for every diet pill (Hey, Hydroxycut, you did NOTHING), I would be a rich woman.
I joined Weight Watchers, the last bastion of the hopelessly overweight. I did feel a little funny about it, but hey, nothing else was working. Within a short time, Jess agreed to give it try, too. With her usual enthusiasm (and ability to get up early) she jumped right in and began walking at 4:00 am. (She's an early riser, OK? She gets to work at 6:00.) I wish I could say that I had the same comittment to early morning exercise, but I have been good about using my treadmill. I am happy to report that Jess and I have (officially, as of today) lost a total of 20 pounds.
I tried to tell one of my coworkers who has been struggling with weight about our new "lifestyle". She assured me that she was eating like a bird. I think that's the problem. Birds eat their own body weight daily. She is still struggling, and I am strutting on the beach.
Jess and I are thrilled. We are accomplishing our goals. We are feeling better, looking better, and understanding that this is totally under our control. After the Labor Day weekend and a dinner at my favorite restaurant, I still lost 1.4 lbs. Come one you guys, it's not that hard once you finally take a real look at WHAT you are eating. That's what I never did before. A little of this, a little of that, didn't seem like much at all. It turned out to be more than I expected. We have all gotten to expect that servings should be super-sized and that we are immune to reality. You can lose it if you want to...
Join us in our adventure...you'll be glad you did.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Rules of the Road and Traffic Jams
My best pal Jess has already posted about the ridiculous traffic in Gainesville since the start of the fall semester. By and large, residents are prepared for the influx of student vehicles, but this month has been horrific. Construction near the university is incomplete. The traffic lights are not timed porperly. The gridlock has been a nightmare.
What makes this worse is that so many drivers seem oblivious to the rules of the road. Everyone is in a hurry, and it becomes all about "me, me, me." Courtesy, sense, and patience are sadly lacking in today's drivers who think nothing of blocking intersections even though they have nowhere to go. Tuesday afternoon, I headed east on University Ave with the intention of turning north on NW 17 St. A lovely blonde, yakking on her cell phone in a new blue Nissan decided to pull across the intersection on a green (maybe yellow) light, despite the fact that there was nowhere to go. The intersection was totally blocked. When the cross traffic light turned green, no one could move. She shrugged her shoulders at the annoyed drivers and continued to chat. Must be nice to be so free of concern for others.
This is aggravating. No one should block an intersection. It's a moving violation. It causes more problems and doesn't get the offender ahead of the game. It would be one thing if it were only the blonde in the Nissan, or the idiot in the shiny black truck with the Penn State plates on the front.
What makes matters worse is that our RTS busses are the worst offenders. In the past three days, I have sat through at least five extra light changes because an RTS bus decided to pull out and block the intersection. This has happened at Buckman & University and at Gale Lemarand & Museum where the mess was so bad that traffic watied through 3 extra light changes because of a bus. There's no way to get around a bus when your light turns green. When traffic is jammed up as badly as it is around the university these days, then professional drivers should have an obligation to abide by the rules of the road and not think that blocking traffic is actually going to help them stay on schedule. Hey, RTS, the University of Florida subsidizes these routes. How about a little consideration for those of us who are paying your bills?
Although I hate getting stuck behind a bus, I am a proponent of mass transit and its benefits. These drivers should be most attuned to our traffic problems, driving laws, and how they contribute to the mess we are dealing with. These drivers have a responsibility to do things right, and they are not doing that. They are setting a bad example and making a bad situation worse.
There is really no excuse for the traffic mess that we are in now. It should not take 45 minutes to get off campus. Where are the traffic cops who are so willing to stake out residential areas like Suburban Heights? Why are our police agencies so unwilling to issue traffic violation tickets in the university area?
Gainesville does not have the infrastructure to support the traffic we have, and until that is addressed, nothing will get better. Maybe it's time to address the real problems and stop spending money on "traffic calming" circles and speed bumps. I don't see any of those things improving our North-South or East-West access.
What makes this worse is that so many drivers seem oblivious to the rules of the road. Everyone is in a hurry, and it becomes all about "me, me, me." Courtesy, sense, and patience are sadly lacking in today's drivers who think nothing of blocking intersections even though they have nowhere to go. Tuesday afternoon, I headed east on University Ave with the intention of turning north on NW 17 St. A lovely blonde, yakking on her cell phone in a new blue Nissan decided to pull across the intersection on a green (maybe yellow) light, despite the fact that there was nowhere to go. The intersection was totally blocked. When the cross traffic light turned green, no one could move. She shrugged her shoulders at the annoyed drivers and continued to chat. Must be nice to be so free of concern for others.
This is aggravating. No one should block an intersection. It's a moving violation. It causes more problems and doesn't get the offender ahead of the game. It would be one thing if it were only the blonde in the Nissan, or the idiot in the shiny black truck with the Penn State plates on the front.
What makes matters worse is that our RTS busses are the worst offenders. In the past three days, I have sat through at least five extra light changes because an RTS bus decided to pull out and block the intersection. This has happened at Buckman & University and at Gale Lemarand & Museum where the mess was so bad that traffic watied through 3 extra light changes because of a bus. There's no way to get around a bus when your light turns green. When traffic is jammed up as badly as it is around the university these days, then professional drivers should have an obligation to abide by the rules of the road and not think that blocking traffic is actually going to help them stay on schedule. Hey, RTS, the University of Florida subsidizes these routes. How about a little consideration for those of us who are paying your bills?
Although I hate getting stuck behind a bus, I am a proponent of mass transit and its benefits. These drivers should be most attuned to our traffic problems, driving laws, and how they contribute to the mess we are dealing with. These drivers have a responsibility to do things right, and they are not doing that. They are setting a bad example and making a bad situation worse.
There is really no excuse for the traffic mess that we are in now. It should not take 45 minutes to get off campus. Where are the traffic cops who are so willing to stake out residential areas like Suburban Heights? Why are our police agencies so unwilling to issue traffic violation tickets in the university area?
Gainesville does not have the infrastructure to support the traffic we have, and until that is addressed, nothing will get better. Maybe it's time to address the real problems and stop spending money on "traffic calming" circles and speed bumps. I don't see any of those things improving our North-South or East-West access.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Can't Sleep Tonight
"No one on their deathbed ever said, 'I wish I spent more time at work.'"
Although I doubt that there is much research to support this statement, intuitively I have to believe that it is true. After all, the vast majority of us have jobs that make the world run, but individually are not the driving force in any major world event. I know that my job fits into this category, although there are some individuals who have benefited from my expertise, abilities, or sympathies in a way that moves them along, helps them, and gives them the opportunity to make the most of their own resources.
This week has been hell on wheels. The start of the university school year. Old problems that need to be "fixed". New issues with pressing deadlines. Programs for new students. Office issues that need to be resolved RIGHT NOW that cannot possibly be addressed until the furor dies down.
Somewhere, in all this, there is family. A young son who has "started college" courtesy of dual enrollment. A DH who runs a busy business and needs support. A Dad who is facing major, life changing surgery, and my hair stylist, who is being patient with me for having missed an appointment when she could have scheduled another client. Oh, most important, my missed lunch with my long time friend Jess, but I promise we'll get back on track soon.
Sometimes it is hard to balance it all. Work has demands that are sometimes seasonal, but always pressing. These needs weigh on me, as they are now, even when I am not at work. I know that I am not alone in this. There are probably a lot of other university people lying awake tonight thinking about the things that need to happen tomorrow.
Is it worth it? Some days I wonder, but tonight I have to say it is. DS is with a trusted friend. DH is sleeping comfortably, now that I have gotten out of the bed and stopped thrashing around trying to sleep.
I have a wonderful team of people to work with. These things will get done. I want to thank two people, who will probably never see this blog for their support: my wonderful Program Assistant, Kanitra...the most wonderful human being on this planet; and my student assistant, Jose, who is so dependable and supportive that I could not possibly do it without him. You two are the best things that have ever happened to me.
Tomorrow I will take care of the things that are keeping me awake tonight. I will wake up on time (I hope) and get back to work. Tomorrow night there will be time for family, and this weekend we will head to the beach.
Today, it would be easy to believe that the office is taking too much from me, but I have to look at what I am giving and how that factors into my life equation. Today, life is hectic and demanding, but the potential benefits (for the students) are worth the effort on my part. I signed up for this knowing that there would be people who would need my help. That's my mission. Next week I will take an afternoon off, the family will be back "on track" and life will resolve into normalcy [whatever that is].
I'm not really spending too much time at work, I am simply attending to the tasks that I feel are important. Now, if I could just go to sleep.
Although I doubt that there is much research to support this statement, intuitively I have to believe that it is true. After all, the vast majority of us have jobs that make the world run, but individually are not the driving force in any major world event. I know that my job fits into this category, although there are some individuals who have benefited from my expertise, abilities, or sympathies in a way that moves them along, helps them, and gives them the opportunity to make the most of their own resources.
This week has been hell on wheels. The start of the university school year. Old problems that need to be "fixed". New issues with pressing deadlines. Programs for new students. Office issues that need to be resolved RIGHT NOW that cannot possibly be addressed until the furor dies down.
Somewhere, in all this, there is family. A young son who has "started college" courtesy of dual enrollment. A DH who runs a busy business and needs support. A Dad who is facing major, life changing surgery, and my hair stylist, who is being patient with me for having missed an appointment when she could have scheduled another client. Oh, most important, my missed lunch with my long time friend Jess, but I promise we'll get back on track soon.
Sometimes it is hard to balance it all. Work has demands that are sometimes seasonal, but always pressing. These needs weigh on me, as they are now, even when I am not at work. I know that I am not alone in this. There are probably a lot of other university people lying awake tonight thinking about the things that need to happen tomorrow.
Is it worth it? Some days I wonder, but tonight I have to say it is. DS is with a trusted friend. DH is sleeping comfortably, now that I have gotten out of the bed and stopped thrashing around trying to sleep.
I have a wonderful team of people to work with. These things will get done. I want to thank two people, who will probably never see this blog for their support: my wonderful Program Assistant, Kanitra...the most wonderful human being on this planet; and my student assistant, Jose, who is so dependable and supportive that I could not possibly do it without him. You two are the best things that have ever happened to me.
Tomorrow I will take care of the things that are keeping me awake tonight. I will wake up on time (I hope) and get back to work. Tomorrow night there will be time for family, and this weekend we will head to the beach.
Today, it would be easy to believe that the office is taking too much from me, but I have to look at what I am giving and how that factors into my life equation. Today, life is hectic and demanding, but the potential benefits (for the students) are worth the effort on my part. I signed up for this knowing that there would be people who would need my help. That's my mission. Next week I will take an afternoon off, the family will be back "on track" and life will resolve into normalcy [whatever that is].
I'm not really spending too much time at work, I am simply attending to the tasks that I feel are important. Now, if I could just go to sleep.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
We Are the Media
Today I received an email suggesting that the media are sensationalizing the war in Iraq and Israel and other things. That's a big surprise. The link I followed from this email warned of misrepresentation by the Rueters News Agency, and showed a number of apparently staged photos meant to convince me that what Reuters is doing is both new and immoral. Maybe it's immoral, but it is hardly new. War correspondents have ALWAYS arranged their photographs to be compelling. That's what being a photojournalist is all about.
That doesn't mean that it's OK to send us trumped up descriptions of what's really happening. We'd like to be properly informed, wouldn't we? Does it make you angry to think that the media are the ones directing public opinion? Would you be shocked if it were suggested that you might also be guilty?
In this day of Internet access, we are all the media. What we say, what we send to others, and what we propose is fact gets passed along in our emails to each other every day. And if it is true that if you know 7 people you can connect to everyone else in the world, then the world needs to be on its toes.
In the past week, I have received emails asking me to look for the missing daughter of someone's deli manager, prompting me to stop shopping at Target because they don't support veterans, urging me to see the Mars spectacular this month, warning me of an 809 area code scam, and yet another message promising that Microsoft will send me a substantial check just for forwarding this email. All of these messages came to me from trusted family members and friends. Not one of them is rooted in reality.
It's pretty easy to get emotionally involved in "doing the right thing". But the forwarding of false information is not necessarily the right thing to do. Before you send off a message to everyone in your address book, please take a few minutes to determine if what you are sending along has merit. Sending along random emails without checking on their veracity could do much more harm than good. Crying "wolf" too often numbs us all.
Did you know that the man who first started the Target email has retracted his message and stated:
"I made a mistake on this one, and I've learned a hard lesson — that's for sure. What started out as a message for the members in our organization has turned into a hate-type thing. I never wanted to start any national boycott. I just wish it would all stop.
"Some people have used my words and perpetuated lies. It's sad that some of these people would use veterans as a way to push their own political views. I've sent out a retraction, and no one pays any attention."
Snopes.com is a good place to start. Before you send out that message meant to save your family and loved ones, be sure you are a responsible journalist.
There is real news out there and there are real ways for us to get involved and help. It would be a terrible tragedy if we missed out on the opportunity to solve a real problem because we have seen so much nonsense come across our screens that we no longer recognize the truth. If you have a truly urgent message, then please let us know. If you have just received a message that sounds good, please check it out before forwarding it. This is an important responsibility in the fight for truth, justice, and the American way.
That doesn't mean that it's OK to send us trumped up descriptions of what's really happening. We'd like to be properly informed, wouldn't we? Does it make you angry to think that the media are the ones directing public opinion? Would you be shocked if it were suggested that you might also be guilty?
In this day of Internet access, we are all the media. What we say, what we send to others, and what we propose is fact gets passed along in our emails to each other every day. And if it is true that if you know 7 people you can connect to everyone else in the world, then the world needs to be on its toes.
In the past week, I have received emails asking me to look for the missing daughter of someone's deli manager, prompting me to stop shopping at Target because they don't support veterans, urging me to see the Mars spectacular this month, warning me of an 809 area code scam, and yet another message promising that Microsoft will send me a substantial check just for forwarding this email. All of these messages came to me from trusted family members and friends. Not one of them is rooted in reality.
It's pretty easy to get emotionally involved in "doing the right thing". But the forwarding of false information is not necessarily the right thing to do. Before you send off a message to everyone in your address book, please take a few minutes to determine if what you are sending along has merit. Sending along random emails without checking on their veracity could do much more harm than good. Crying "wolf" too often numbs us all.
Did you know that the man who first started the Target email has retracted his message and stated:
"I made a mistake on this one, and I've learned a hard lesson — that's for sure. What started out as a message for the members in our organization has turned into a hate-type thing. I never wanted to start any national boycott. I just wish it would all stop.
Snopes.com is a good place to start. Before you send out that message meant to save your family and loved ones, be sure you are a responsible journalist.
There is real news out there and there are real ways for us to get involved and help. It would be a terrible tragedy if we missed out on the opportunity to solve a real problem because we have seen so much nonsense come across our screens that we no longer recognize the truth. If you have a truly urgent message, then please let us know. If you have just received a message that sounds good, please check it out before forwarding it. This is an important responsibility in the fight for truth, justice, and the American way.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Too Much Stuff
Too much stuff. There's just too much stuff.
It'll hang you up, dealing with too much stuff.
~Delbert McClinton
My husband and I have been married for a little more than five years. He was 50 at the time, and I'm not far behind him. He lived in this awesome house that he built (well, OK, was still building in some ways), and I lived in the burbs with my young son. We knew there would be some challenges in combining our households. I'm a city girl, he's an earthy, do-it-yourself kind of guy. We intended to sort through all of our mountains of stuff before I moved to his home, then get married, and live happily ever after.
Shortly before the wedding, we bought an adorable 1945 house as a rental property. We're both crazy about buildings and architecture and projects. This was truly the shadow of things to come. We spent several months painstakingly restoring our new property, finishing up with three weeks to spare before the wedding. Fortunately, the caterers were friends. The wedding was wonderful. Life was good.
Then, it was time to move my stuff to his house. I have to say we handled it pretty well - we didn't kill each other. But the burden of stuff started to become undeniably apparent that day. It seems we are both packrats - er, I mean collectors. Everyone in my family is a collector. My brothers own more cars than you can count, British cars, muscle cars, weird and interesting cars. They own lots of other motorized toys like boats, too. Some of them even float. It made me feel better knowing that all these other people collect things like we do.
The stuff we have collected along the path of life has become a burden. It's everywhere, and dealing with it becomes so overwhelming that it's easier to ignore it and let it continue to accumulate. I take time off from work, promising myself that I will divest myself of significant quantities of stuff that will make a difference. Hours after sorting through boxes, I am paralyzed by guilt, indecisiveness, and nostalgia.
My dream is to have a home so uncluttered, so clean, and so absolutely Spartan that a lost set of car keys can remain lost only for the few moments it takes to make a 360 degree sweep of a room. That anything out of place stands out so clearly that it cannot remain lost for long. Reality is different.
I have to say that the stuff my husband has collected is infinitely cooler -- although a lot bigger -- than my stuff. He has wood cook stoves, enameled and fancy. He has wood burning heating stoves, black and ornate. He has gigantic beer signs from the sides of midwestern farmhouses. Oh, he has an eye for the collectible, the nostalgic, the huge. My stuff is smaller. I am attracted to shiny, colorful objects. I own way too much depression glass, ruby glass, and bits and pieces of antique Christmas ornaments. Not to mention the enormous collection of Hallowe'en stuff collected in the years when my son's annual party was the talk of the town.
Then there is the guilt collection. What to do with my mother's wedding gown? Not that anyone I know could fit into it even if they wanted to wear a 50+ year old dress. It has history and meaning. I have a ton of stuff that was my mother's. Some of it is meaningful, a few pieces are valuable, but I am somehow caught in a web of guilt that prevents me from disposing of it. I would give it to my nieces and nephew, let it become their burden, but they don't even have their own homes yet. Where would they put it?
Our kids don't want this stuff, neither does the Smithsonian. Family history is cool, and hard to come by in a day when we are all so mobile. Appreciating the things of our past is cool, too. There are many times that I yearn for the simpler life this stuff supposedly represents. But I have to tell you that carrying all this stuff around for years and years does not make my life simple. It takes up a ton of space, and weighs on me daily.
I'm not sure what it is that made my generation reach out and grab all the old stuff our parents had discarded. We are not alone. This is the song I hear all my peers singing.
I have a new plan. I am going to start putting stuff on Ebay. For every item I sell, I will include a "free gift." Oh, you bought a camera lens? Well, here's your free wood burning stove to go with it! You bought the depression glass? Here's your free vintage tractor! I figure that this way I will get rid of twice as much stuff as if I had a yard sale.
My husband is encouraging me. He wants to let go of this stuff, too. We cannot wait to be free of the mountains of stuff that we have spent so much of our lives aquiring. Less is more.
It'll hang you up, dealing with too much stuff.
~Delbert McClinton
My husband and I have been married for a little more than five years. He was 50 at the time, and I'm not far behind him. He lived in this awesome house that he built (well, OK, was still building in some ways), and I lived in the burbs with my young son. We knew there would be some challenges in combining our households. I'm a city girl, he's an earthy, do-it-yourself kind of guy. We intended to sort through all of our mountains of stuff before I moved to his home, then get married, and live happily ever after.
Shortly before the wedding, we bought an adorable 1945 house as a rental property. We're both crazy about buildings and architecture and projects. This was truly the shadow of things to come. We spent several months painstakingly restoring our new property, finishing up with three weeks to spare before the wedding. Fortunately, the caterers were friends. The wedding was wonderful. Life was good.
Then, it was time to move my stuff to his house. I have to say we handled it pretty well - we didn't kill each other. But the burden of stuff started to become undeniably apparent that day. It seems we are both packrats - er, I mean collectors. Everyone in my family is a collector. My brothers own more cars than you can count, British cars, muscle cars, weird and interesting cars. They own lots of other motorized toys like boats, too. Some of them even float. It made me feel better knowing that all these other people collect things like we do.
The stuff we have collected along the path of life has become a burden. It's everywhere, and dealing with it becomes so overwhelming that it's easier to ignore it and let it continue to accumulate. I take time off from work, promising myself that I will divest myself of significant quantities of stuff that will make a difference. Hours after sorting through boxes, I am paralyzed by guilt, indecisiveness, and nostalgia.
My dream is to have a home so uncluttered, so clean, and so absolutely Spartan that a lost set of car keys can remain lost only for the few moments it takes to make a 360 degree sweep of a room. That anything out of place stands out so clearly that it cannot remain lost for long. Reality is different.
I have to say that the stuff my husband has collected is infinitely cooler -- although a lot bigger -- than my stuff. He has wood cook stoves, enameled and fancy. He has wood burning heating stoves, black and ornate. He has gigantic beer signs from the sides of midwestern farmhouses. Oh, he has an eye for the collectible, the nostalgic, the huge. My stuff is smaller. I am attracted to shiny, colorful objects. I own way too much depression glass, ruby glass, and bits and pieces of antique Christmas ornaments. Not to mention the enormous collection of Hallowe'en stuff collected in the years when my son's annual party was the talk of the town.
Then there is the guilt collection. What to do with my mother's wedding gown? Not that anyone I know could fit into it even if they wanted to wear a 50+ year old dress. It has history and meaning. I have a ton of stuff that was my mother's. Some of it is meaningful, a few pieces are valuable, but I am somehow caught in a web of guilt that prevents me from disposing of it. I would give it to my nieces and nephew, let it become their burden, but they don't even have their own homes yet. Where would they put it?
Our kids don't want this stuff, neither does the Smithsonian. Family history is cool, and hard to come by in a day when we are all so mobile. Appreciating the things of our past is cool, too. There are many times that I yearn for the simpler life this stuff supposedly represents. But I have to tell you that carrying all this stuff around for years and years does not make my life simple. It takes up a ton of space, and weighs on me daily.
I'm not sure what it is that made my generation reach out and grab all the old stuff our parents had discarded. We are not alone. This is the song I hear all my peers singing.
I have a new plan. I am going to start putting stuff on Ebay. For every item I sell, I will include a "free gift." Oh, you bought a camera lens? Well, here's your free wood burning stove to go with it! You bought the depression glass? Here's your free vintage tractor! I figure that this way I will get rid of twice as much stuff as if I had a yard sale.
My husband is encouraging me. He wants to let go of this stuff, too. We cannot wait to be free of the mountains of stuff that we have spent so much of our lives aquiring. Less is more.
Friday, August 11, 2006
As Others See Us
My mother was fond of quoting the Scottish poet Robert Burns when she was trying to make a point. In his poem, "To a Louse," this word master says:
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
To see oursels as ithers see us!
[Translation for anyone who doesn't happen to understand old gaelic: "I wish some Power the gift would give us to see ourselves as others see us!"]
When my mother was making this point, I usually didn't want to hear it. I would respond with a roll of my eyes and a dramatic sigh, knowing that my mother simply didn't get it. It's ironic that my son and nieces respond the same way now that I understand what my mother meant.
Think back to a time when you realized that someone had a very different view of you than the one you had. I can remember talking with a friend about needing a black skirt for some event. She had one, I did not. She was not going to be at the event, so I asked if I could borrow her skirt. I should mention here that I was always a skinny kid, and stayed that way for many, many years. I knew I had put on a few pounds, but was confused when she said "I didn't think we were the same size." My first reaction was to think that she wasn't THAT much bigger than me. My perception changed when I tried on her skirt. Sure enough, it was way too snug to wear comfortably.
That may have been the moment when I realized what my mother was trying to say. It's important not only that we have our own unique identity, but also that we realize how the rest of the world sees us. This has tremendous implications for our relationships and our future, whether professionally or personally.
There is a very simple tool used in counseling to help clients with this issue. Johari's window allows individuals to examine how they percieve themselves, how they want to be perceived by others, how they think others perceive them, and finally how others really perceive them. That last piece is the tricky one. How do others really perceive us?
I'd like, somehow, to use this tool to help a woman I work with. She is mid-40s, and has always made a dramatic fashion statement. I swear that several years ago she showed up in my office in an almost professional but too short skirt, and that when she sat across from me I was seeing sequined underwear. Her propensity for dressing "sexy" is well known. It must be said that she also had a reputation for competence. She was effective in her position. For reasons unknown, she fell out of favor with the higher ups, was demoted, and went into a tailspin. Anyone who would listen was subject to a long, involved tale of woe. I suggested that her best course of action might be silence. Take the high road. While we were on her side, her very public display of humiliation was emabarrassing to most of us, and was certainly not helping her plight. Worse, her actions only served to publicize her problems. Thirty some job applications later, she has not had a single interview.
After a while, things died down, as they tend to do. She was absent from a few monthly meetings, her department was respresented otherwise. A few weeks ago, she showed up at my door to introduce a new employee. It took me nearly a minute to recognize her.
Her hair was greasy, with long gray roots. Her jeans were slashed and torn. She was wearing only a midi tank top over her protruding, middle-aged, pierced belly.
This week, she showed up at a huge meeting looking just the same way. Everyone at the conference table made eye contact with someone else, then quickly dropped their eyes in embarrassment. Within 20 minutes of the meeting's end, phones were ringing. "Is it truly this bad?' Yup, it sure is.
What is going on here? First, she always preferred the mutton-dressed-as-lamb look. When she was viewed as competent, people pretended to overlook her idiosyncrasies in fashion, although they were still the subject of discussion. But her very public diatribe about being treated badly changed the way she was viewed. Instead of being seen as a competent person looking for new challenges, she portrayed herself as damaged goods. She blew that entirely. Now, when she needs to rely on her experience to change jobs, she sabotages herself with her appearance. Her outfit today, at a more formal event, would have made Mary Quant [the creator of the mini skirt] blush. She has caused other people to see her as incompetent, foolish, and inappropriate.
Perhaps there is an issue of depression or something similar that needs to be addressed. I wish someone knew how to address it.
If this woman had the slightest idea of "how others see us" she might have a chance to save herself. As it is, every appearance she makes only makes matters worse.
If we want to be viewed a certain way - competent, professional, helpful, etc. - then it is important that we understand the requirements. This poor woman [oh, yes, I do feel sorry for her] has no clue. The way we appear is very important.
When we understand how others see us, we get a much better picture of why the world treats us the way it does.
When my mother was making this point, I usually didn't want to hear it. I would respond with a roll of my eyes and a dramatic sigh, knowing that my mother simply didn't get it. It's ironic that my son and nieces respond the same way now that I understand what my mother meant.
Think back to a time when you realized that someone had a very different view of you than the one you had. I can remember talking with a friend about needing a black skirt for some event. She had one, I did not. She was not going to be at the event, so I asked if I could borrow her skirt. I should mention here that I was always a skinny kid, and stayed that way for many, many years. I knew I had put on a few pounds, but was confused when she said "I didn't think we were the same size." My first reaction was to think that she wasn't THAT much bigger than me. My perception changed when I tried on her skirt. Sure enough, it was way too snug to wear comfortably.
That may have been the moment when I realized what my mother was trying to say. It's important not only that we have our own unique identity, but also that we realize how the rest of the world sees us. This has tremendous implications for our relationships and our future, whether professionally or personally.
There is a very simple tool used in counseling to help clients with this issue. Johari's window allows individuals to examine how they percieve themselves, how they want to be perceived by others, how they think others perceive them, and finally how others really perceive them. That last piece is the tricky one. How do others really perceive us?
I'd like, somehow, to use this tool to help a woman I work with. She is mid-40s, and has always made a dramatic fashion statement. I swear that several years ago she showed up in my office in an almost professional but too short skirt, and that when she sat across from me I was seeing sequined underwear. Her propensity for dressing "sexy" is well known. It must be said that she also had a reputation for competence. She was effective in her position. For reasons unknown, she fell out of favor with the higher ups, was demoted, and went into a tailspin. Anyone who would listen was subject to a long, involved tale of woe. I suggested that her best course of action might be silence. Take the high road. While we were on her side, her very public display of humiliation was emabarrassing to most of us, and was certainly not helping her plight. Worse, her actions only served to publicize her problems. Thirty some job applications later, she has not had a single interview.
After a while, things died down, as they tend to do. She was absent from a few monthly meetings, her department was respresented otherwise. A few weeks ago, she showed up at my door to introduce a new employee. It took me nearly a minute to recognize her.
Her hair was greasy, with long gray roots. Her jeans were slashed and torn. She was wearing only a midi tank top over her protruding, middle-aged, pierced belly.
This week, she showed up at a huge meeting looking just the same way. Everyone at the conference table made eye contact with someone else, then quickly dropped their eyes in embarrassment. Within 20 minutes of the meeting's end, phones were ringing. "Is it truly this bad?' Yup, it sure is.
What is going on here? First, she always preferred the mutton-dressed-as-lamb look. When she was viewed as competent, people pretended to overlook her idiosyncrasies in fashion, although they were still the subject of discussion. But her very public diatribe about being treated badly changed the way she was viewed. Instead of being seen as a competent person looking for new challenges, she portrayed herself as damaged goods. She blew that entirely. Now, when she needs to rely on her experience to change jobs, she sabotages herself with her appearance. Her outfit today, at a more formal event, would have made Mary Quant [the creator of the mini skirt] blush. She has caused other people to see her as incompetent, foolish, and inappropriate.
Perhaps there is an issue of depression or something similar that needs to be addressed. I wish someone knew how to address it.
If this woman had the slightest idea of "how others see us" she might have a chance to save herself. As it is, every appearance she makes only makes matters worse.
If we want to be viewed a certain way - competent, professional, helpful, etc. - then it is important that we understand the requirements. This poor woman [oh, yes, I do feel sorry for her] has no clue. The way we appear is very important.
When we understand how others see us, we get a much better picture of why the world treats us the way it does.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Where Did I Go Wrong?
I thought that grilling was a man's job. I mean really, look at history. You (the woman) prepare the meat, prepare the veggies and salad, and set the table. The man builds a symmetrical pyramid of charcoal briquets, lights them afire, and claims credit for the whole dinner.
That's the way things work in my perfect little universe. The moment I lay my manicured nails on a grimy briquet, my he-man should be there to take over, arranging them the way I never could, igniting them to burn with a flame higher than any female could even want.
So where did I go wrong? When I announced grilled salmon for dinner the other night, it was with the complete expectation that DH would rise to the occasion and do the grilling. Apparently, that was not meant to be. I learned a few lessons about how to barbecue and burned all the hair off my right hand, but I wasn't all that attached to it, anyway. The skin sizzled right off the fish, but I managed to turn each filet without too much destruction and the dogs were grateful for the charred fish skin. Dogs are so easy to please.
Tonight, I announced grilled pork chops and corn. I shucked the corn, prepared it with chili and lime zest (ummm); I rubbed the pork chops with special, wonderful seasoning. I built a little pyramid of charcoal briquets, soaked them with lighter fluid and lit them my very own self. Not once did DH come out to make sure I was doing it right and not burning the house down. I totally don't get it. Doesn't he care any more?
I did learn tonight that the little vent thingy on the top of the grill is very important. DH closes it after he grills to extinguish the fire. I leave it open to burn off the crud on the grill. Apparently he closed it up after me the other night (even though he didn't cook). I did not notice this until I took the chops off the grill. Thank the gods of pork chops that there was enough heat in those coals to save us from trichinosis. Of course, I didn't mention to him that I didn't open those vents. I guess that he would have known to check for that. Maybe I will remember next time.
I read an article recently about a woman who was using the same kind of reinforcement on her husband as animal trainers use. I am wondering if DH read that article, too, and decided to turn the tables.
Just wait till I decide to grill ribs. I know he'll have to get involved then. :-)
That's the way things work in my perfect little universe. The moment I lay my manicured nails on a grimy briquet, my he-man should be there to take over, arranging them the way I never could, igniting them to burn with a flame higher than any female could even want.
So where did I go wrong? When I announced grilled salmon for dinner the other night, it was with the complete expectation that DH would rise to the occasion and do the grilling. Apparently, that was not meant to be. I learned a few lessons about how to barbecue and burned all the hair off my right hand, but I wasn't all that attached to it, anyway. The skin sizzled right off the fish, but I managed to turn each filet without too much destruction and the dogs were grateful for the charred fish skin. Dogs are so easy to please.
Tonight, I announced grilled pork chops and corn. I shucked the corn, prepared it with chili and lime zest (ummm); I rubbed the pork chops with special, wonderful seasoning. I built a little pyramid of charcoal briquets, soaked them with lighter fluid and lit them my very own self. Not once did DH come out to make sure I was doing it right and not burning the house down. I totally don't get it. Doesn't he care any more?
I did learn tonight that the little vent thingy on the top of the grill is very important. DH closes it after he grills to extinguish the fire. I leave it open to burn off the crud on the grill. Apparently he closed it up after me the other night (even though he didn't cook). I did not notice this until I took the chops off the grill. Thank the gods of pork chops that there was enough heat in those coals to save us from trichinosis. Of course, I didn't mention to him that I didn't open those vents. I guess that he would have known to check for that. Maybe I will remember next time.
I read an article recently about a woman who was using the same kind of reinforcement on her husband as animal trainers use. I am wondering if DH read that article, too, and decided to turn the tables.
Just wait till I decide to grill ribs. I know he'll have to get involved then. :-)
Mastering the Fine Art of Procrastination
I've been meaning to write this for a while, but so many other things seem to get in the way. Why am I doing it now? Have I finally found that block of time with nothing else demanding my attention? Hardly. I got in late this evening, didn't get dinner started until nearly 8:30, and I have a class to finish preparing. Ironically, the class is about procrastination. I am writing this tonight because [my excuse is] it will give me a chance to think out loud.
Procrastination is not always a bad thing. If things at the "top" of our priority list never get done, there is a message there. When the things lower on the list always get done before the big things, maybe that list topper is not really our priority, but something we feel obligated to. In that case, it's a good opportunity to examine our goals and determine if the list is really a good reflection of who we are or who we want to be.
More often, procrastination is a way to avoid some necessary but anxiety producing task. For example, I need to balance my checkbook every month. I'm a control freak about that kind of thing. But accounting frustrates me; little discrepancies drive me absolutely over the edge. So on the night that I have set aside for this relatively simple task, I can usually find about a hundred other things to do. These substitute activities are almost always necessities. Laundry seems to top the list. Laundry is a mindless task, but heaven knows it doesn't do itself. So, two or three loads of laundry later, I have clean towels and underwear, I can tell myself I have been productive and accomplished something, but my checkbook remains undone.
What's wrong with that? I mean really, you have to do laundry, so it's something to cross off the never-ending to do list. The problem occurs when the checkbook remains on the edges of my consciousness. Not doing it becomes even more anxiety provoking than doing it. Somehow, past feelings of relief at finally finishing the bookkeeping are insufficient to motivate me until I am so far behind that I can't stand it any longer.
Sometimes, though, procrastination can finally become the motivator. When putting a thing off for long enough produces sufficient anxiety, even the most determined procrastinator is finally called to action. Maybe it's the thrill of making it just before a deadline, or perhaps it's the knowledge that if we don't finally move on this one thing we will be crippled in many other ways. Maybe it's just that we can't find any more excuses.
Many of my students, wonderful as they are, suffer from procrastination. It sometimes disturbs me to think that it is my responsibility to teach them how to manage this. ("Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.") Understanding what motivates each of us to put things off until the last possible moment is the key to mastering the fine art of procrastination. Each of us is wired a little differently. Some like the challenge of the deadline, others are paralyzed by the fear of failure, and some are overwhelmed by the sheer possibilities of the project and unable to find a starting point.
Perhaps the best way to manage our own style of procrastination is to understand the ways we deceive ourselves. Is it possible to look honestly at what keeps us from the things we have planned? I think so, but it takes a little effort.
If I don't do the laundry when I have something else planned, it's likely that some other family member will decide they'd like a clean towel and do a load of wash themselves. If we can stop pretending that the more mundane items on that list are equally important to those we have defined as top priorities, maybe we will find reasons to address the truly important, get them done, and find a few rewards along the way. If we can learn to master procrastination through understanding our internal motivations, perhaps we can make some strides toward a simpler, more rewarding life.
What do you put off?
Procrastination is not always a bad thing. If things at the "top" of our priority list never get done, there is a message there. When the things lower on the list always get done before the big things, maybe that list topper is not really our priority, but something we feel obligated to. In that case, it's a good opportunity to examine our goals and determine if the list is really a good reflection of who we are or who we want to be.
More often, procrastination is a way to avoid some necessary but anxiety producing task. For example, I need to balance my checkbook every month. I'm a control freak about that kind of thing. But accounting frustrates me; little discrepancies drive me absolutely over the edge. So on the night that I have set aside for this relatively simple task, I can usually find about a hundred other things to do. These substitute activities are almost always necessities. Laundry seems to top the list. Laundry is a mindless task, but heaven knows it doesn't do itself. So, two or three loads of laundry later, I have clean towels and underwear, I can tell myself I have been productive and accomplished something, but my checkbook remains undone.
What's wrong with that? I mean really, you have to do laundry, so it's something to cross off the never-ending to do list. The problem occurs when the checkbook remains on the edges of my consciousness. Not doing it becomes even more anxiety provoking than doing it. Somehow, past feelings of relief at finally finishing the bookkeeping are insufficient to motivate me until I am so far behind that I can't stand it any longer.
Sometimes, though, procrastination can finally become the motivator. When putting a thing off for long enough produces sufficient anxiety, even the most determined procrastinator is finally called to action. Maybe it's the thrill of making it just before a deadline, or perhaps it's the knowledge that if we don't finally move on this one thing we will be crippled in many other ways. Maybe it's just that we can't find any more excuses.
Many of my students, wonderful as they are, suffer from procrastination. It sometimes disturbs me to think that it is my responsibility to teach them how to manage this. ("Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.") Understanding what motivates each of us to put things off until the last possible moment is the key to mastering the fine art of procrastination. Each of us is wired a little differently. Some like the challenge of the deadline, others are paralyzed by the fear of failure, and some are overwhelmed by the sheer possibilities of the project and unable to find a starting point.
Perhaps the best way to manage our own style of procrastination is to understand the ways we deceive ourselves. Is it possible to look honestly at what keeps us from the things we have planned? I think so, but it takes a little effort.
If I don't do the laundry when I have something else planned, it's likely that some other family member will decide they'd like a clean towel and do a load of wash themselves. If we can stop pretending that the more mundane items on that list are equally important to those we have defined as top priorities, maybe we will find reasons to address the truly important, get them done, and find a few rewards along the way. If we can learn to master procrastination through understanding our internal motivations, perhaps we can make some strides toward a simpler, more rewarding life.
What do you put off?
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