Trying Not to Bneg

Trying Not To Be Negative Has Moved!

2009-08-17T07:34:00.003-04:00

After two years, I have decided to buy the actual domain and redesign.

Please go to http://www.tryingnottobneg.com

I hope if you are subscribed, you will sign up at the new site - or - change your bookmark.

The new location offers more design options and features. I hope you like it. Please let me know!

Thanks so much for reading!!

Cindy

What's It Like to Ride the Zorb?

2009-08-11T12:54:00.005-04:00

Riding in a Zorb is a wild rebirth of an experience.

Last year when my husband and I were watching the Amazing Race, the contestants raced down a hill with Zorbs in New Zealand. We knew we’d jump at a chance to try. After firming up our vacation plans with our friends to go to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, my husband and I were dual-laptop researching the area and he turned his screen toward me with his find. “The Zorb! How close?” I asked. “IN Pigeon Forge.” Woah, baby!

After hiking along cascading streams and then to the top of an amazing waterfall in Great Smoky Mountain National Park, our group was hot and wanted to cool off. Ranging in age from 8 to 48, the nine of us couldn’t wait to ride in a giant ball.

For years I played with my sons designing Marble Raceways and dropping balls down plastic chutes. At the Maryland Science Center in Baltimore, one exhibit has balls travelling around on metal tracks. Maybe because I love roller coasters, I always stare fascinated by the motion of gravity, trying to imagine what it would feel like to be on those tracks. This was my chance to be IN A BALL as it free falls, twisting, turning, reversing down a zig-zag trail on the side of a mountain.

So what’s it really like? You start by diving in arms first through a small tunnel. You are zipped in twice for the inner and outer balls. The ride is too brief, only 40 seconds. The sensations were just as I imagined and I laughed the whole way down. Water in the Zorb allows your body to shift from side to side, back and forth. Sort of like body surfing on a wave but with much more motion and sloshing. You are at the mercy of your weight and gravity then wind up falling backwards. If the zippered opening rips across your back, you need to shift your body to another side or pay a raw red consequence. You get out by slipping feet first out of the hole with all the water, which resembles my vision of birth a little too closely. We all felt a weird birthing moment at the end.

The price for our group was $33 each. That’s a steep cost for such a quick experience but we all were glad we did the Zorb. It’s just one of those things you HAVE to do in your life because you CAN! We all tried the water version, Zydro. The other version is Zorbit, which allows you to experience weightlessness and g-force. My arm was in a sling and I’m still trying to decide if I would have strapped myself in for the dry rollover version if it wasn’t.

Maybe I have an addiction to balls but you want to ride the Zorb, even if it’s just once in your life!

Secret Cindy: Who Are You Online?

2009-07-25T12:32:00.019-04:00

Friends came up to me at a picnic and immediately asked about the motorcycle rally I attended. I blurted out a short description which had them laughing, “I didn’t need the Lane Bryant coupon and I’m not a lesbian.”

“That’s not what you said on Facebook, but I have a much better picture now.”

“Yeah,” I responded, “Lately I’ve been wishing I had a Secret Cindy account so I could be myself.”

Over the past couple of years I’ve happily added friends, acquaintances, political figures, co-workers, church members, family, and bloggers. I enjoy reading the news feed and keeping up with everyone, but I don’t know who I am now. When I post a status, who am I talking to?

I think some people don’t post status updates for exactly this reason.

I don’t have anything to hide. But if I posted the description of the motorcycle rally, people who don’t know me well might not understand my comment in the right context. I’ve always been overweight and have shopped at Lane Bryant. For many of the women, the rally was a chance meet up, but obviously not for me. If you aren't a close enough friend to know how I struggle with my weight and have close friends who are gay, you might misjudge my status.

A friend didn’t like how Barack Obama, as a candidate, changed his demeanor for different audiences. When he first mentioned it, I realized I do the same. I don’t speak with a friend from another culture the same way I speak to a politician. My word choice, speed, and content are different. Both online and offline, I have a diversity of friends. Isn't this true for all of us?

The situation on Facebook is perplexing, especially when professional contacts are included on your friend list. Obviously I would tell my family more intimate details about our weekend than I would share with a state delegate. Family want to hear about your kid's accomplishments but to everyone else it's bragging.

A friend who grew up down the street from me, couldn’t believe a current friend called me “Cindy” on Facebook. Didn’t I hate that? For 23 years I was against the nickname unless we were family or close friends, but as work blended with socializing, the distinction blurred. Eventually I felt silly telling people to call me Cynthia.

Now people from every part of my life are blended together on social networks. I’m very conscious of what each person thinks about every word I type. I'm concerned aboout what people will think.

I like sharing details of my life which helps me keep in touch and get to know others better, but it is difficult to speak to large, diverse audiences. Even though the message is the same, often the words need to be different. My status updates are generic and perhaps less fun, hence my wish for a wild and crazy Secret Cindy account because I like to joke around.

Who are you typing to?

My Dad Was Way Before United We Serve

2009-07-18T09:00:00.006-04:00

A friend from high school said he never drives past a volunteer community car wash without thinking about my dad. My dad owned a gas station and he was always letting scouts and schools have car washes. My friend marveled at all the gallons of water he donated.

I’d never thought about it. In fact, I’d forgotten all about the car washes.

A couple of years ago, I was chatting with a friend and recalled the name of my dad’s gas station -- Community Service. I’d never thought about that either. You take everything for granted from childhood. I’ve never taken a step back to think about a person naming their gas station Community Service.

A large group of men hung out there. It was truly the hub of our township. The hours were filled with lots of joking and discussion. I couldn’t help but think about the men at the gas station when watching Gran Torino. Clint Eastwood’s character takes the boy into the barbershop to teach him how to talk like a man, which involves foul language and insults. Although they cleaned up their act for me, I know this occurred. My grandmother always disapproved, especially when our minister joined them.

On June 22, 209 First Lady Michelle Obama, kicked off the United We Serve campaign at Bret Harte Elementary in San Francisco, California. She explained what United We Serve is all about:

“It's a nationwide effort to call Americans to make service a daily part of
their lives -- like all of you here; it's not something that you do in your
spare time.”

Surprisingly, the first thing I thought about was my dad and his gas station. He was a successful businessman who held the highest ranking volunteer position in Boy Scouts. He always sponsored a work study program at our local high school. He took young men, gave them a job, and taught them work skills. My dad was great at what he did. The teachers always sent him the toughest cases. He struggled with one boy who wouldn’t make eye contact or speak. Others needed to learn how to show up on time and be dependable. Simple skills like making change and being courteous to customers were unknown to these boys. For years, day in and day out, he spent his time at work teaching them how to make a living. Although it wasn’t always easy, they became functioning members of the workforce. Many came back to visit and it must have been so satisfying to know the important part he played in making each of them succeed and talk like a man.

My dad had not graduated from high school. He never went to any formal leadership training.

With New Jersey’s laws requiring gas to be pumped, he needed workers. He combined this business need with a community need. He offered his business to help community groups on a regular basis. He used what he had to help others regularly. Nothing fancy.

He obviously influenced me because I’m a Boy Scout leader and volunteer in my community to make people’s lives better too.

As Mrs. Obama said:

“… community and national service is something that's near and dear to my heart.
It's not something that we just started to do in the White House. It's been sort
of the air that we breathe in the Obama household in so many ways…”

How does it become the “air that we breathe”, a daily habit? Community service spreads by example from father to daughter. It spreads by invitation from neighbor to neighbor. The only necessary ingredient is a person who cares. It’s a lifestyle of growing and nurturing those around you while seeking or creating opportunities to help every day.

We simply need a call to service, a daily mindset. Now we have it from Mrs. Obama.

Go!

Being Leftovers

2009-06-18T11:05:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I wonder if attending a funeral during our honeymoon influenced my fairly frequent thoughts on the frailty of life. After traveling for a week, my groom and I visited his grandmother. Soon after we arrived his grandmother’s sister lost her husband in the middle of the night and the commotion woke us. I still can picture every detail of the guest room as I lay for a long time holding tight to my new husband.

This week I took my sons to see the movie Up. The loss of a long-time partner never fails to make me crumble. Since I don’t want to spoil the movie, I won’t give away any plot, but go see it even if you don’t have kids.

As many people know, one of my best and most supportive friends, Michael, lost his partner last summer. Ira’s friends and family have maintained a blog in his honor. I read the posts and feel Michael’s pain.

Reading Michael’s most recent words and seeing Up both brought me to tears, but more importantly they both showed me strength and hope after losing someone you’ve spent a lifetime loving.

So I’m sharing part of Michael’s message of renewed spirit:

He would be proud of Zachary and I but at the same time tell me to settle down -
just be. Sit on his beloved couch, read a bit, take a nap or just hang with
Zack. This Michael who understands mortgage rates, homestead exemptions and
watches the market's rise and fall would be very boring to him and worst of all
only make worry about us more. He would ask what happened to my shopping,
gardening and why aren't you sitting down to dinner anymore? The poor guy - his
last meal was leftovers and he was perfectly happy with that. I've always hated
leftovers but he defended them like a UN Peace Keeping Force.

So that takes me to the thought, in end I've become a "leftover" another way to
look at being a widower. But what if I embraced it the way he did? What if I was
a "festival of leftovers"? What if I represented the very best of what I had
been? What if what was left of me, of him, or us was the very best - made
richer, full of flavor - savory. Now I understand the attraction to the
"left-over". So cast in the light of open refrigerator I am resplendent like a
piece of apple pie at midnight or cold pizza for breakfast. So embrace your
inner leftover and maybe just maybe you'll here his chuckle, feel the warmth of
a distant smile or know the perfect happiness of cold KFC.

We shouldn’t waste our lives thinking about what was or what might be, rather we need to embrace what’s best in our lives now, confident of our love. I've become a great fan of leftovers too.

All I Really Needed to Know About Success I Learned In Kickboxing

2009-06-16T07:46:00.002-04:00

While grunting with each move, I push myself to complete the rotations from my kickboxing instructor. As I finish the last one I invariably think “Wow, I can’t believe I just did that!” and she almost always yells “Again!”

For the first time in my life, I’m physically pushing myself beyond anything I have ever imagined. Muscles I didn’t even know existed all over my back, sides, shoulders, arms, and legs hurt constantly. Since I never seriously trained, and only half-heartedly exercised for most of my life, I had no idea about the pain involved with reshaping your body.

In class I have the reputation of repeating the instructions. She’ll say “jump rope – 5 minutes” and I’ll incredulously repeat “5 minutes?” Granted I can jump for 5 minutes but after 20 minutes of nonstop physical activity, I’m not happy about it. In fact, I hate working out and my body groans in agreement.

I thought people simply went through repetitious moves and their bodies looked better. Now I know why people say “No pain, No gain.” How could I have been so clueless?

Lots of people have been noticing the changes in my body. They ask questions about how I’m doing it. With my slug background, I’m asking myself the same questions and the answer is always “my trainer”. She’s a natural. Having left everything behind in Chile to move to the United States, Lyu Pollard is strong and driven, which rubs off on her students. As I’ve learned and struggled, I’ve realized her methods for improving my body apply to many situations in life.

How much better can I be doing this? My trainer’s heading to California to obtain a 5th degree black belt. All the martial arts are based on improvement. There’s always a next goal. Since she participates in our instruction, we are always training right along with her. The important lesson is thinking about a next level. Never accept the present situation. To be successful we need to constantly seek the next best thing in whatever we are doing then work toward it.

Haven’t I done enough? Since my trainer grew up with a military dad who made her wake up each morning at 5:30 AM and exercise, her demeanor resembles the sergeant’s program. We sometimes hear “Let’s go soldiers.” When we don’t want to do something or start to loose energy, we need motivation. I lack discipline, but my trainer insists on it. She’s tough and points out when we are slacking or taking the easy way out. “Not like that!” “Lift your leg higher, you’re trying to kick them in the face!” Constantly test yourself to see if you can do more and go further. You might be surprised by your own stamina and dedication.

Can’t I do this alone? My kickboxing instructor used to be a trainer in one of those fancy gyms. She knows all about the muscle sets and complete fitness. Sometimes we need specific help from knowledgeable people. If you can’t make yourself do what’s necessary to improve, then find someone who is qualified to push you in the right direction. Surround yourself with good people who know what they’re doing. This might mean joining Weight Watchers, Alcoholics Anonymous or Toastmasters. Perhaps you need a special course, a partner, or work mentor. My whole life I’ve viewed getting help as a weakness but I’ve finally learned to reach out to others. I lost 50 pounds with weekly Weight Watcher meetings because of the program and the people. Everyone in my kickboxing class is supportive. We cheer each other’s accomplishments because we are all struggling together.

After my first night of kickboxing I decided that if I could actually do her class, I would be in excellent physical shape. Underneath I didn’t think it was possible, but I keep showing up.

I’m learning more than I expected.

Kickboxing Classes are at the second floor studio at Rockville Martial Arts and Learning Center (just south of Woodmont Country Club entrance). Everyone is welcome to stop by and try a class for free, no pressure. There are monthly rates or less expensive long-term commitments. Believe it or not, I still pay by the month and could revert to being a slug at any moment!

A Real Life Parable Made Me Think

2009-06-09T14:04:00.005-04:00

After church started on Easter Sunday, an Asian man in his 30’s sat down in the pew in front of me. I had the feeling he was homeless but it wasn’t obvious. I handed him my bulletin and showed him where we were. When it came time for the offering, I couldn’t help but watch. I worried because if I was right about him, this could be an uncomfortable situation. He opened his wallet and all I could see was a coupon and two dollars. He pulled out the two dollars and put them in the offering plate.

We all know about the parable of the woman giving her small amount in the temple showing far more love than the rich man who gave a larger amount but a smaller fraction of his wealth. I had witnessed the real thing. While I thought selfish thoughts on his behalf, he emptied his wallet.

So today I sit here thinking I would never give away all our money. Who would empty out their mutual funds, retirement plans, savings accounts and stocks? I wouldn't, not in a million years. Where does this leave me?

When my husband and I were young starting out, we had very little. I knew in the back of my head we were “safe” from this parable lesson. The day I married my husband he was ABD without the dissertation started and had no income. He didn’t even have a car because he had to junk it on the way to the university one morning. Meanwhile, I was working at a local nonprofit. We had nothing but our love and my large inherited real estate debt.

I learned real estate, bought and sold property, then refinanced our current house seven years ago when the interest rates hit rock bottom. One day I told my husband we had earned what we had. He was quick to point out that it was all a gift from God. He was right.

The homeless man reminded me of my wealth.

All the gifts in our lives are precious. Sometimes I think I squander love and friendship much more than money. We can lose everything we love very quickly.

While adding up the terrible investment losses from last year, I thought about everything I could have done with the money to help others and fulfill our dreams. Now I’m reminded it’s never too late to start.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been hanging onto it after all.

We’re All In This Together: Mandatory Volunteering

2009-05-31T14:10:00.002-04:00

As I was sitting at a picnic for one of my son’s activities, a leader stood up and proceeded to describe all the volunteer duties for parents. “O boy,” I thought, “This is entirely my fault.”

After leading a youth organization for a few years, I decided to tell parents to commit to a volunteer job on an index card and hand it to me along with their membership payment. One night in a parking lot as we were leaving a meeting, this leader talked about how certain parents were overburdened with a few jobs each, while other parents did nothing. I told her about my new system for my group and she was intrigued.

If you have ever volunteered for your school’s PTA, a scout organization, youth group, or sports team, you know how volunteering usually goes. The leaders do all the activity coordination themselves, a few other parents step forward on their own, or the leaders beg the same few volunteers to help. Eventually people don’t want to step forward as leaders because the job is overbearing.

The burden must be evenly spread across all members so everyone feels like they are doing their fair share. When I implemented the system, I worried about parents’ reactions to being forced to do an activity. What I found is that parents went overboard in their responsibility. Since they knew it was their “one thing” for the whole year, they threw themselves into the job. We almost had to hold them back. My leaders knew they could concentrate on their real responsibilities without additional time requirements. The quality of all our activities improved.

After the presentation at the picnic, the leader came to me and confirmed my earlier thought. Her presentation was due to my suggestions. All I could do was laugh. She talked with the leaders and came up with the plan to encourage more parent involvement.

Taking my idea a step further, she had taken a collage of photographs of the kids, cut it into puzzle pieces, and put a volunteer job on each piece. She encouraged the parents to take one puzzle piece and create the full picture together. When some did, she was delighted.

Perhaps mandatory volunteering will help your organization. Don’t be timid when you ask.

Learning to Love Letting Go

2009-05-18T02:09:00.001-04:00

Scaffolding rose up toward the ceiling where the altar usually stands at the front of the church. Even though this was a special day for my son to celebrate Communion, we were not going to be kneeling at our familiar altar. Nothing was usual.

When I first heard the stained glass window was to be re-installed and the church would be in disarray, all I could think was “bad planning”. In my life, both personally and professionally, I plan everything. Schedules, timetables, and details are paramount.

But I think God had a strong message for me today.

The makeshift altar and distribution held the same promise. This Christian family meal provided the same joy of celebration with the millions of Christians who have lived or will live around the world. Life can’t be typical with so many people in the chaotic throws of life. You can’t plan everything with thoughts and power crashing in all directions.

When I became pregnant with my first son, a colleague told me having a child would be good for me because I would have to learn to let go. Everything would not go exactly as I expected. For the past dozen years, her words were a daily invitation to put each instance in perspective. I have changed.

Today’s free-wheeling service took my thoughts a step further and made me appreciate the unexpected, embrace the uncontrollable unknown. After all, earthly objects are immaterial.

A couple of weeks ago, our seminarian preached about his first time in our church. Our minister told him how he loved the stained glass window of the Ascension. As Jesus rises, the disciples are all standing around with expressions on their faces which seem to ask “Where are you going and what are we supposed to do?”

I ask myself the same thing everyday.

Today I realized I'm supposed to take Communion even when there’s no altar and be glad while I do it. After I am fed, I'm responsible for feeding, or looking after, others.

In life we often have to succeed with a failed plan. We will, by letting go of our perceived failure and finding joy in the situation.

Should I Abandon Real Life for My Laptop?

2009-05-01T17:20:00.005-04:00

As I began to start a new community website, I caught myself thinking I’d need to jettison real life commitments in order to maintain it. Then it hit me, I was actually thinking about quitting my volunteer work with other people to sit at my laptop.

In the last week I’d volunteered at our elementary school festival and field day then participated in a cub scout service project. Between my family, work, church and a city commission, my days are booked. Something would have to give.

Should we really reduce our real life community time in order to have one online?

When I confided my dilemma to a friend, he told me about his six years maintaining a national website for train enthusiasts. After a while, the site took up so much time that he realized he wasn’t fixing trains anymore. All he wanted was to grab tools and scrap paint to repair old engines in the museum, but he’d spend his weekends on the website. He stopped.

For people who don’t have volunteer or community activities, online groups and interactions provide a sense of community. Anyone can spend time blogging and commenting to provide a place for like-minded people to participate from the comfort of their own computer screen.

But what if your time is filled volunteering in the flesh? Even if you streamline, you still need to have the time to do a good job and respond to others online. It’s unavoidable.

Now I’m seriously considering the benefits from all of my activities by asking myself four simple questions.

Does the organization have a positive influence on a priority in my life, such as my children?

What do I get out of the experience personally?

Am I truly helping a broader good or cause?

Will the online interaction improve an aspect of my real life community or career?

When I find the answers, I still have to prioritize whether an online effort with the same benefits outweighs a real life effort with people physically in the same place at the same time. It’s amusing to even consider it.

More and more, time spent online truly competes with real life interactions. How many times have you been dragged away from your computer or internet cell phone connection by someone standing in front of you?

A fellow mom sent me a piece of Flair on Facebook, “Not now sweety, mommy’s on Facebook.” I read it out loud with my 7-year old in the room and he said, “That’s alright mommy.” I spun around in shock and explained that I was only reading something. Was I ignoring him for the computer? At that moment I hadn’t thought I was. Though I often say, “Just let me post this blog real quick and we’ll do something together.”

I can’t imagine quitting as a volunteer to spend my time on my laptop no matter what the reason.

What we all need are online clones to handle our internet duties, blogging, programming and design. Our look-alike avatars could handle everything for us. Who’s working on THAT kind of robot?

Summer Camping at Disney Turns Out to Be Cool

2009-04-24T07:30:00.004-04:00

Last July when a friend asked if it was hot enough for me, I blurted out “No, I think I’ll go to Florida and camp at Disney World for two weeks”. Most people in the Washington DC area couldn’t believe we were even contemplating such a trip in the summer swelter. Since I would never take my kids out of school and we couldn’t afford a hotel vacation, this was our only option.

Our friends’ doubts about our sanity were very much on my mind as we drove over the Florida border and I spied a road crew working on the side of the highway. Before I could stop myself, I thought they were crazy to be outside in Florida’s summer heat. Soon I realized the ridiculousness of the thought. Life goes on in Florida just like everywhere else in the summer.

When we pulled into the Disney campground, Fort Wilderness, the only thing we had was a printout of our campsite reservation. Since so many people had discouraged the trip, we had only booked the campground two weeks earlier and didn’t have tickets or restaurant reservations. Everyone plans these trips a year in advance and we arrived for our dream vacation with nothing but the sweltering heat. Parental fears of failure were strong as we walked up to the check-in cabin. As our two boys watched Disney shows on an old-fashioned TV, a staff member arranged our tickets and meal reservations. In short time, we were making our way to the campsite in our Class B RV. With trees creating a full canopy, we found the campground shaded, clean, and comfortable.

Early mornings were cool and relaxing as we ate at our picnic table. We decided to forgo the bike and golf cart rentals and depended on the regular bus, boat, and monorail lines to get around Disney World. Our loop was situated between two bus routes so we would pay attention to the buses during breakfast and head to the road where the next one was expected. The air conditioning on the buses was consistently near freezing. Most of our trips were spent shivering rather than sweating.

In ten days we visited all of the Disney theme and water parks. Each morning we arrived for the park openings with a plan to get wet on a particular ride and see the air-conditioned shows during the hottest part of the afternoon. However, in our drenched clothing, the air-conditioning was almost always too cold.

We religiously followed a schedule from touringplans.com. The subscription for this service was cheaper than the tour books. We choose “Tween Boys” and our days were efficiently planned for us. We knew exactly where to go, when to get a FastPast, and when to wait in line. As we breezed past others and experienced everything by mid-afternoon, I found myself joking that I would send them more money when we arrived home. Following the tour plan and avoiding lines, kept us out of the heat.

Months later as I think about our summer camping trip at Disney World, I don’t remember feeling hot. If anything, I remember dreading the cold bus rides and freezing theaters. Since most afternoons brought quick thunder showers, we spent our time trying to stay warm and dry.

Summer’s a great time to visit Disney World, and you can even camp outside with an RV.

Can Yahoo Be the Better Facebook?

2009-04-08T16:25:00.003-04:00

According to Alexei Oreskovic in his Rueter’s article, Yahoo’s Plan: create community from isolated sites, Yahoo Inc co-founder, David Filo, and new CEO, Carol Bartz, are planning all kinds of social networking features for Yahoo.com.

Yahoo is turning up the volume on many of its communications and community features and building bridges between the collection of Yahoo sites that have at times operated like virtual islands.

"You start to introduce Yahoo users to other parts of Yahoo," said Filo.

Whether users warm to Yahoo's vision of the social Internet with the same zeal they have for social stalwarts like Facebook and News Corp's MySpace remains to be seen. But if Yahoo's social networking features catch on, advertisers will take note.

Here’s why I’m intrigued:

* While she was visiting, my sister-in-law hit all the Day-After Thanksgiving Holiday Sales on my laptop with Yahoo. She surfed the web and charged her purchases to her Yahoo account.

* My friend, who leads a support group for parents of children with food allergies, wouldn’t start a Facebook group because everyone is happy and active with their Yahoo Group.

* My husband, an early adapter to Yahoo, cruises the daily photos from around the world. As I peak with my head on his shoulder, the popular photos summarize the world’s news, catastrophes, festivals, fun, nature, and … everything, in just a few glances.

Ms. Bartz is on the fast track to turn Yahoo into a social networking site. Yahoo would be packaged with a live stream of friend’s activities from the real groups in their lives. Saying it could be successful if done correctly is an understatement.

Facebook is a take-it-or-leave-it place for most of the people I know. Most users sign in when bored or procrastinating. I’ve been accused of updating my status too much and I only do it once or twice a day. “No,” I reply, “You should see some of the other people I connect with on Facebook, they send out stuff all day long.” But for most users this is not the norm.

For me, and almost everyone I know on Facebook, it’s a place for friends. We fan famous people and products, but it hasn’t morphed into actual sales for products and services on Facebook. Bottom line: companies want to make money, so they need customers or potential customers buying what they are selling. Companies can interact on a more personal level directly with customers on Facebook. Pages can encourage product loyalty. Also, the herd mentality of fanning what your friends fan is another quick/free marketing benefit. However, the ultimate goal of sales cannot be ignored.

Since Yahoo is such a commercial site already, it could happen in a spectacular way with Yahoo. We don’t think of as a place for friends but rather a place for information.

Mr. Oreskovic writes:

When an individual recommends a news story from the Yahoo homepage, uploads a photograph on Flickr or makes a trade on a fantasy baseball team from Yahoo sports, Yahoo will send an alert to a network of friends or contacts.

Yahoo is developing technology to broadcast roughly 100 types of such posts and actions.

Many of Yahoo's properties rank among the most popular on the Internet. Yahoo's homepage had 329 million unique visitors in February, according to research company comScore; Yahoo Mail had 282 million unique visitors in February, second to Microsoft HotMail.

In the last decade, in order to stay informed by my kid’s school, the delegation of PTAs, and my support group, I had to join Yahoo. Plenty of other people were forced to do the same. We’re all still there. It’s a big job for Yahoo, but there’s potential.

I’m going to go update my profile on Yahoo right now and give it a chance.

The Facebook Un-Friend

2009-04-02T20:03:00.001-04:00

Friends keep asking social etiquette questions about Facebook. For the most part, the interactions are unchartered. Although I advise the same good common sense as in real life, I’m now struggling with my own situation and how it will spill over.

I’m not by any means a public figure in my city but because of a local community blog, people know me. A city staff member once wrote, “We haven't met (and I'd like to remedy that) but I am ______________; and I am in need a of a great big favor.” So we corresponded and I tried to help.

A short time later her city email showed up on my friend finder in Facebook and she accepted my offer of friendship. As I like to make personal contact with all my new friends, I wrote on her wall, etc.

But she has unfriended me. I find myself wondering why. She could have just blocked me from seeing her status updates.

Gosh this whole Facebook thing is getting complicated.

I’m sure the college kids are way past this. Truthfully, I don’t care. To me it’s a friendship lost. I liked her status updates and thought she was fun and wild like me.

But this is the communications person for my city. Since I blog about our city, I’ll have to interact with her in the future. What do I do?

1.) Directly send a message on Facebook and ask why? Did I do something wrong?
2.) Ask her why when I see her in person?
3.) Pretend nothing happened both in emails and in person?

Yes, we weren’t really friends, but I was hoping to get to know her better. Yes, I understand it is more of a professional relationship with me and you don’t want your crazy everyday observations to go public. Today she has 195 friends, not many by a younger person’s standards, but obviously more than just a close circle. Plus, she has kept my fellow community blogger as a friend as well as other city staff, so it’s just me kicked off the list.

It’s just Facebook right so I have to ignore it? I guess I will.

Don't Wait

2009-03-31T17:51:00.003-04:00

During a seventh grade dance Anthony told me that if I lost 50 pounds, I would be really good looking. He was a kind boy who had stopped girls from calling me names. He was trying to be helpful and give me advice. A year later he was killed in a car crash. I can still picture the coffin going down the aisle.

In tenth grade Dominic dived into a quarry and never came up. His mother had hand-sewn a dress as my birthday present in second grade. Then Maria’s house was on fire and although she came to the window and people yelled for her to jump from the second story, she went back to get her mother and they both died. I found out in advanced chemistry that morning when they made the announcement. She had been the lead in the musical and had a beautiful, unforgettable voice.

Lately I can’t stop thinking about them.

At 43 years of age I finally lost the 50 pounds, so I think about Anthony … then it snowballs. Anthony was right. I wish I hadn’t waited my whole life to feel so good about myself. I was so tired of being overweight. No matter what anyone says about accepting their weight and it not mattering, you feel like a failure when the methods exist to lose it to be healthy and you don’t. My greatest fear is that I will fall into a bad place and gain all the weight back, hence the constant training and exercising.

We don’t know how much time we have. If you feel bad about something in your life then change it -- now. Find the epiphany moment before it is too late.

Often when people are interviewed they express surprise at deadly situations. Bad occurences never surprise me. I’ve always felt bad about taking them in stride. How could I do that? Clearly, a very long time ago, I accepted how life could be over in an instant. For good or for bad, it carries with me each day.

I only have five years until I’m the age of my father when he died. He didn’t have long. I might not either, and I don’t want to squander my time.

So I’m constantly asking myself, “What’s important?”

Burning Bridges

2009-03-14T23:42:00.000-04:00

Recently a friend was contacted by an old business associate. My friend started this person in her career and helped her rise to the executive level. Then the protégé made unflattering comments in meetings and was untrustworthy with information. My friend wanted to know what to do after years of separation.

Earlier that morning I had wandered around the grocery store wondering if I burn too many bridges with people. Generally, I give people a few chances. I try to understand the situation if I’m approached with anger or high emotion. I’m accepting of different kinds of people and can put myself in their shoes. I revel in an eclectic group of friends and like to trust them. But if a consistent pattern of bad behavior develops, it’s difficult not to avoid the perpetrator.

Carrying around disappointment and anger can erode your soul. Forgiveness is tough. In my faith journey, forgiveness is the hardest part. However, not forgiving is grievously worse. If you burn a bridge with someone, you have the oppressive task of lugging around the charcoal pieces and can no longer continue your journey in that direction.

During my conversation with my friend, we decided on an email olive branch. Although a small gesture, it was a significant act of forgiveness.

I guess the gnawing in my gut has to do with a bridge that’s rebuilt in a shaky, piecemeal manner. The old level of friendship and trust are never reached. We do it all the time. I can’t help but believe that this really isn’t forgiveness. The bridge is still burnt.

Volunteer Victory

2009-03-07T06:28:00.001-05:00

“I know this is going to sound dumb, but I’m really going to miss all the emails, editing, and back-and-forth of working with you the last few weeks.”

Wow! I didn’t know what to say to this volunteer. We had just sat down to celebrate the success of my organization’s annual fundraiser, but these simple words meant so much more to me than the event.

He had lugged all his professional video equipment to three different locations to tape my interviews for our award winners. A friend of our organization had asked him to help. He’s an up-and-coming videotographer who produces videos for athletes seeking college scholarships. Our project demanded a substantial time commitment. He had to make sacrifices in his schedule to accommodate our taping. This was my first attempt at creating videos and he had obvious technical talent. Along the way we discovered that we were an excellent team. People from all walks of life were comfortable with us and the conversations produced meaningful footage.

I do a great deal of volunteering and manage many volunteers, so I’ve experienced it from both sides. I’m never in it for the glory or recognition. Since that evening, I’ve been thinking about what makes volunteering special. Why do people continually give of themselves? What makes me personally want to continue?

1.) The cause has to be meaningful. If a volunteer is not familiar with your organization, you need to introduce them. In this case, the volunteer had never been involved with the population served by my organization. The first time the two of us sat down together, I talked about what we did. I knew what impressed me and told him.

2.) A volunteer has to have support from others in their personal life. A parent praising the work or a friend already volunteering make a big difference. Since volunteer time commitments can impact family and socializing, it’s no small matter to make sure volunteers are encouraged by the important people in their lives.

3.) The experience needs to be fun. Recently a co-worker told me about working in a car assembly plant for three years. The experience sounded terrible but he enjoyed it because of the other workers. The task doesn’t matter but the interpersonal relationships do. My video guy and I compared notes on many aspects of our lives, our community, and our dreams. We became friends which made our success all that much better.

4.) You need to make sure the volunteer winds up having the time to get the job done. We only have so much time and sometimes our jobs or commitments change. Never assume or demand that a job be completed. Continually ask if the work is possible. Volunteers need to know that they can change the project or timeline to fit their schedule.

5.) Your expectations need to be reasonable. Since I didn’t know how difficult it would be to switch out certain footage or change pictures, I asked the volunteer what could be done on the tight timeline then respected his expert answers.

6.) Make sure the volunteer job is a good fit. Obviously, someone who creates videos for a living likes the job but sometimes people get tired of volunteering for the same duties they perform professionally. In this case, a wonderful variety of people were interviewed so the project was a tremendously different experience. We both were enlightened by the people we interviewed.

7.) Volunteers should grow either professionally or personally. My volunteer needed to overcome a strange sound problem near the end and he discovered a cutting-edge program to fix it. Any technical geek will appreciate this reward. The volunteer gained valuable knowledge that will come in handy professionally. Many volunteers talk about wanting to become better pubic speakers or learn a new communications skill. Volunteering can create safe environments to improve or discover hidden strengths.

Each experience bestows new insights, so I’m sure there’s plenty more to add.

Fear of Aggression

2009-02-27T00:01:00.004-05:00

My kickboxing instructor asked me to punch her. She wouldn’t punch back. She's training for a big fight and needs to get used to being hit.

I don’t know if I can.

Why am I kickboxing anyway? For a few years, my husband has been suggesting kickboxing whenever I lament my large “slavic thighs”. Joking about my thigh genes being passed down for thousands of years to the women of my family, I have the legs of my mom and grandmother. They are the last hold out for my fat deposits, so I need to work them.

My instructor has started to talk to me about competition. An exhibition could eventually lead to sparing against other women. I hold back telling myself that I’m in it for the exercise.

During my third class I took her up on the offer to release my frustrations on the bag. Until that moment, I was just going through the physical motions. “What’s bothering you?” she yelled. With the thought of an annoying situation in my life, I really wailed on that leather bag. The sensation was scary. I’m afraid I’ll lose myself down the long dark tunnel of this aggressive world.

My instructor has a fourth degree black belt. She tells the story of the guy who came up to her with a knife one night. He said “Give me your bag.” She tried to warn him by saying “Don’t mess with me.” He decided to repeat “Give me your bag.” So she tossed it high in the air. When he went to grab it, she punched him hard, caught the bag, and took off. The thought of that kind of power hasn’t left my mind since I heard the story.

Imagine having such control and confidence.

So what’s it going to be? Can I really fight someone? Will I slip into this world and not recognize myself?

I’m still trying to figure out who I am. I must be alive.

True or False?

2009-02-22T20:31:00.003-05:00

One day in high school honors geometry our teacher, Dr. Sahagian, wrote a premise on the board and asked the class to vote if it was true or false. I raised my hand for “true” and then the entire class voted “false”. The teacher pressed me several times to change my vote. He called on the brightest students in the class to justify their opinions. Although placed in the most advanced classes, I knew math wasn’t my strength. My answer made sense and felt right. I held firm.

I was right.

I embraced the truth in opposition to the entire class. When my teacher and classmates expressed admiration, I didn’t understand the fuss. Everyone said they would have changed their answer when faced with such opposition. I couldn’t imagine agreeing to a falsehood in order to be part of a group.

We don’t recognize defining moments in our life while they are occurring.

As a philosophy major in college, I reveled in my Introduction to Logic textbook by Irving M. Copi. Today I continue to hold the book in my hands reading my meticulous answers with deep-rooted satisfaction. I stated the converses of propositions, constructed definitions by genus and difference, and classified arguments as deductive or inductive. My natural inclination for geometry stemmed from an ability to think logically and dissect arguments.

These days I blog. I’m obviously blogging now. I take pride in accuracy when writing. When reading other blogs and comments, I notice that people are often confused about truth. This week a friend pointed me to an article with a valid argument resulting in a false conclusion. A beginning student of logic could have diagrammed the statements and known, but the article was heralded around the internet with acclaim. The blog sounded cutting-edge and often that’s all that counts.

Beyond the simplicity of dissecting arguments to prove their falsehood, we can “disagree in belief” or “disagree in attitude”. People may have a disagreement in belief as to whether or not something has happened. But even if they agree something has actually happened, they can disagree about their attitude toward it. A writer can choose a word with exactly the same descriptive meaning but with an opposite emotive meaning. One may describe it in language that expresses approval while the other disapproval. A disagreement in attitude is not easy to settle. People use persuasion and rhetoric to attempt to change people’s attitudes.

Recently a committee accused me of writing “several errors” in a post on another blog. Since I reported using the exact words of the presenter, the disagreement is not in belief. With a predetermined opposition to the presenter, they may have thought of arguments against him or felt that he was not properly answering their questions. This is their attitude toward the speaker rather than the facts.

Since I worked for the same organization as the presenter 15 years ago, they believe I have a predetermined attitude. I did however represent the facts without attitude or emotive language.

Hopefully people will see their attempt to discredit me for what it is. In the meantime, let’s all stick to the facts.

We all know I’ll stand up for the truth and won’t back down.

Overcoming Shyness

2009-02-22T12:07:00.000-05:00

When I was younger, especially as a teenager in high school and college, I would never participate in group discussions. I’d spend my time squirming in my sit wishing I had the courage to raise my hand. When in social situations, I would nod and smile but never speak first. One fellow student in high school gave me the rhyming nickname “Snotty Cotte” because I never spoke to people. After he spent some time getting to know me, he admitted he was wrong. I was terribly shy, not standoffish.

Perhaps you know the terror and awkwardness of meeting someone and having nothing to say. An awful silence fills the space. All your inadequacies flitter through your mind paralyzing any confidence to start a conversation. Knowing that my silence gave people a terrible impression only left me feeling more inadequate.

Lately, I think most of the people in my life would be surprised to learn that I was shy. Several people have described me as outgoing, and I admit that I schmooze my way around town. What happened?

As I grew to hate meetings, conferences, and clubs, I started to notice when these social situations weren’t painful. One time in particular at a youth leadership training, I observed how everyone was nervous. One fellow smiled and asked me a question. When I answered, a conversation followed and eventually others joined in the discussion. Relief spread across our faces because we were no longer in a scary situation filled with nervous glances. We were all put at ease and made great progress together that day.

I had paid careful attention. I knew that one simple question had completely changed the situation. Everyone had been just as nervous and uncomfortable then felt relief to get past these jitters. I marveled at the thought, “I should do that.” What if I was the person who started the conversation and improved the situation? But really, I didn’t think I had the confidence or energy to make it happen.

For a couple of years, I silently observed interactions. More and more I noticed how a simple gesture or question made introductory situations better. Eventually I had enough confidence to find something to say to the people next to me in groups at school, home, seminars, trainings or church.

Now I blurt out questions or comments. Sometimes I really have to think about an introductory topic, but I realized we are all the same. No matter the wealth or religion or occupation, underneath, most people want to connect, even if just to pass the time while waiting.

Many people don’t enjoy small talk or the dreaded cocktail conversations, but with some effort, the conversations can become more meaningful. The art of conversation can carry people beyond the trite.

Underneath I’m still shy and nervous but to all the world, I’m talking.

My Blog's Wordle.net

2009-02-22T00:01:00.009-05:00

Click on the image to go to the Wordle Gallery:

I like that people, always, and care are the largest and therefore most frequent words.

Why Do I Care?

2009-02-17T07:43:00.003-05:00

Last week I wondered. Why do I care about the historic preservation of a building? Why do I care if the affordable housing community is built? Why do I care that there are homeless people living on our streets? None of these outcomes will change my life directly.

Most of the time, it’s not easy to care. When you really care, you take action. For these types of issues, you are often in the minority. Others may care but not enough to take action. If you act, you feel like the lone voice in the wilderness.

Even if you do find like-minded supporters for certain issues, it’s still not easy. If you stick your neck out, the repercussions from a loud and angry crowd of NIMBYs can be devastating. When they resort to personal attacks or try to discredit you, caring can be painful. People tell me you have to be thick-skinned.

Nothing new here to those with any experience with campaigns or NIMBYs. But when it happens to you, it feels like the first time. It is new. When taken on a personal level, aggressive emails and public complaints feel like you are being bullied. Standing up to a bully takes strength. People tend to shy away from confrontation so the bullies, and NIMBYs, win.

Last Sunday I visited a church. The minister preached about what Jesus could have done with his life. He could have continued to heal all day or preach nonstop, but his ultimate actions resulted in a movement, Christianity. She talked about how two thousand years later we have many people preaching to others, healing in hospitals, and working for nonprofit institutions.

I’d never thought about my nonprofit career as a fulfillment of Jesus’ mission. Throughout my teen years whenever I prayed in church for guidance in my life, the message was always so clear and loud. You must help other people. I could never escape it.

When I decided to “stay home with the kids”, I swore I would not go back to nonprofit work. I have.

Along the way I spent all my free time volunteering to make my little corner of the world better – the schools, the scouts, the church, and the community. I can’t help myself.

Last week, I reported on a meeting where one side of an issue presented their response to the other side. Unbeknownst to me, many didn’t want that information out in the community. The person who made the presentation said my writing was accurate, but his opponents are trying to discredit my integrity and ability. That’s tough to bear since it’s not been done in public, nor in a way I can respond.

So, the minister’s words were comforting to me.

Rest assured that this experience does not make me think that I’m on some type of Christian mission when I volunteer or work. I wouldn’t be so bold or ignorant. I acknowledge two sides to every issue and portray both evenly. My training as a Philosophy major forced me to accurately portray arguments then analyze their strengths. Sometimes this meant admitting that the argument against my belief was stronger.

A force … a strength … pushes me each day and keeps me going, even when it is not in my best self-interest. This much is sure. Where it comes from may not be certain.

Love and caring does extend beyond personal interests. Why do you care?

Why Being A Cosmo Reader Is Good For Society

2009-01-31T23:30:00.000-05:00

Is it such a bad thing to be a Cosmo Girl? Should I be embarrassed to celebrate my 45th birthday this week and “fan” Cosmopolitan on Facebook? Ever since I was in college, going to the beach or the pool always meant a Cosmo magazine in my bag.

If you threw up in first grade, you could still be “the kid who threw up” in college, so I’ve been thinking about my image with every word I type.

I’m not into the fashion and beauty products. You don’t need to tell me that color-coding your files will not get you a raise in the workplace. That’s not why I read Cosmo. The tag is “Fun Fearless Female”. Usually one of the headlines catches my eye and more often than not it contains the word “sex”. We all have the same questions and concerns about this subject but very rarely trust a friend to discuss them.

When I worked for the Chancellor of New York University, I stumbled upon the section of the library for PhD students studying Human Sexuality. I read every book on the shelves. Perhaps I would have earned a graduate degree if I had abandoned the school of public administration for this concentration. I couldn’t believe people were earning doctorates in the subject.

A few years later, when my husband, then boyfriend, was in graduate school, Dr. Ruth came to speak at the University of Maryland. He managed to get me a ticket. I remember being so glad that all the students were respectable and earnest with their questions.

So yes, I’m a Cosmo Girl, except now I’m probably a Cosmo Woman. I can’t help but notice how the magazine is geared to young readers. All the uncertainty of dating and relationships makes me glad to be older. However, I still get the same sense of satisfaction that someone is answering women’s questions about the subject and suggesting ways for improvement. There’s nothing wrong with mixing it up and experimenting. Self-improvement should always include everything that you do.

Often I think I should be more respectable. Since I care about my personal brand, should I have admitted my secret magazine reading? Worst yet, should I be writing this explanation?

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with wholesome sex between consenting adults. It’s a natural part of life.

I’ve always believed that as a society we are completely contorted about sex. Sexual abuse and sex crimes statistics are always sickening. 1 out of every 6 women in the United States have been the victim of an attempted or completed rape. At least 20% of runaway teen girls were sexually abused. I think we have made progress in taking abuse seriously and prosecuting it as a crime, but its implications are still far reaching, especially concerning depression and substance abuse.

Although I want to have that perfect image, I’d never do it by hiding who I am. What’s attractive about Cosmo goes beyond any of my personal preferences. Those pages allow women to be women and discover what that entails. The articles provide a benchmark for a healthy way of approaching this part of life and send a message that women shouldn’t accept anything less. The more we as a society make strides to be open about sex, the more we will feel comfortable condemning the mangled, disgusting incidences of its abuse.

Living With the Political Enemy

2009-01-24T00:52:00.003-05:00

One day my friend asked me how I could be married to my husband. After ten years in a support group for our children, we have shared many intimate details of our daily lives. Her unease didn’t stem from abuse or any other serious concern, but rather the fact that my husband and I belong to different political parties.

Since no one had ever blatantly asked me this question, my answer wasn’t very savvy. I stumbled through an explanation on how we had never had a disagreement about money and went to church together each Sunday. Many facets of our marriage were far more important than his voting habits. I chalked this whole episode up to living in the Washington, DC area where I once “interviewed” to live in a group house and didn’t make it because of my political party.

When my husband and I met at Gettysburg College we were both politically active. He volunteered. I protested. Many people still don’t believe we wound up marrying each other. We agree on the outcome desired for most issues but not on the systems for solving these challenges. Our training and philosophies don’t match, but our hearts do.

When I first started dating my husband, a friend from high school insisted that I break up with him. We would always get together for presidential debates and scream at the television. A presidential policy decision had directly ruined her senior year in high school. How could I sleep with the enemy? After meeting him for the first time she called to tell me that she was sorry. He was a kind, nice person, not some faceless opponent to despise, and she approved.

Back during the election, my alma mater distributed a news story about two friends and roommates. As president of the College Republicans, one organized an appearance by Cindy McCain while the other, who is president of the College Democrats, arranged a visit by Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell. The fact that they lived together and held such strong, opposing views was news worthy. Although hopeful, this is a sad commentary. The friendship was so unusual that it drew media attention.

Last year my husband completed a one-year work detail at the White House. Our family took full advantage of the Easter Egg Roll, Staff Holiday Tour, Marine One Landings, and Oval Office Self-Guided Tours. Even though all of the friends we invited to join us for these events had opposing political views, they appreciated that the Office of the President was not the same thing as the actual President in office. The fanfare of the White House continues no matter who lives there. Our democracy depends on this respect.

President Obama brings an unprecedented level of involvement from many people new to activism and politics. The President's support is strong and emotional though not complete. Anxiety is running high about the deepening worldwide financial crisis. In order to get through this terrible era, we are going to need to treat each other as friends. We’re going to need to work together beyond our differences.

It can be done. These times really don’t give us a choice.

Finding Courage In Our Modern World

2009-01-17T23:24:00.002-05:00

Lately I’ve been feeling like a fraud. In an attempt to keep things in a positive light, I often write or take public opinions that gloss over bad behavior or actions by others. Sometimes I do this because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or because it will make me look just as bad but most of the time I think I don’t have the courage.

It’s easier to stand by and do nothing. Back in a college sociology class, we discussed how a woman was killed while screaming for help. Although many people heard her, she died on the street. No one took action to help her. In this day and age, hopefully someone would at least call the police on their cell phone.

We can now text message or call the authorities and comfortably take action without having to actually involve ourselves. It’s somebody else’s job, right? I’ll just call and let them handle it instead of saying something to the troublemaker or coming to the rescue. Perhaps this is the answer for a society that will stand by and let awful things happen without helping. As humans, this may be all we are capable of doing – a text message.

Often when something bad is happening we shy away. We don’t want to put ourselves out there. Why should we take on the conflict ourselves? If we speak up, we might not be liked. We could be hurt, killed, or embarrassed.

What if you are the only person around when a conflict arises and the police won’t get there in time? What happens if you can’t hide behind your happy keyboard or convenient cell phone?

In cub scouts, I need to speak to my second grader about courage. The discussion is a requirement for him to become a Wolf. They also teach “moral courage” at his school. The teachers playact situations to demonstrate that students should do the right thing even when no one else is.

What forms should courage take? Is a text message enough? What actions should we take to help someone? How should we act on the truth?

My son will to great lengths to defend the people he cares about. As a protective mother, I’ll talk about having courage and making safe choices.

A friend from college always says that he’s afraid he will act in a crisis and lay his life down for others. This has always shocked me because I’ve always been afraid that I wouldn’t.

Each of us may think we know how far we will go to help someone or right a situation, but who knows what will occur under pressure. We have our own personal amount of courage for each situation and sometimes we need to find it.

Kicking In The New Year To Become Your Opposite

2009-01-10T16:10:00.002-05:00

The kickboxing instructor looked at me with distain. “You do yoga and running, but nothing aggressive?”

Even though I just met her, I had to prove myself. This is me. I ride a motorcycle, hike, camp, and take the hard knocks in life standing up. Had I really never done anything “aggressive”? That couldn’t be true. I stood there thinking and remembered judo in college. Yes, I had officially done something aggressive! I quickly explained that the girls refused to be my partner because they were afraid of me. I had to throw the guys and that was easier because the bigger they are the easier it is to get under their center of gravity and the harder they fall. Whew, passed the first test.

Why did it matter to me?

I didn’t know her and hadn’t even signed up yet. Obviously she’s the type of person I admire. Although small, she was straightforward and filled with a recognizable strength. Even more so, when I set my sights on something, I hate when someone thinks I can’t do it.

A long time ago, I took a simple personality quiz. The whole premise was that we all have characteristic traits from four areas. One is our strongest and one is our weakest with the other two in between. People spend their time trying to determine their personality, but that’s not what’s important. You need to concentrate on the person you are not. If by the end of your life you do not become your opposite, you will be unfulfilled.

My whole life I’ve been an overweight slug and I have the thighs to prove it. As I was turning 40, I decided to change. Other women told me that I shouldn’t bother to lose the weight, but I lost 50 pounds. For nine years I’ve practiced yoga, and I found the Thrive Yoga studio to help me reach a more advanced level. Two years ago, I started running on New Year’s Day and I’ve never missed going out a few times a week.

Fellow blogger, Amy Kimes, posted a link to her friend’s website about creating a personal vision board. With limited time, I answered the questions and created a personal vision statement which included kickboxing.

Throughout my life, I’ve ignored my physical well-being. In order to be complete, I need to be more adventurous. My instructor turned out to be a national champion in kickboxing. She trains, completes, and teaches in a few martial arts. I gave her hope that she could still have children in her 30’s and she inspired me to be totally fit.

Think about the person you want to be. Create a vision about where you would like to volunteer, what you dream of doing, what you would like to accomplish in work, and where you want to take your vacation.

Spend some time thinking about everything you don’t like to do. All those activities and situations you would never be caught dead trying. When you hear yourself saying “That’s not me”, take some time to determine why. Decide whether there are any barriers that might be stopping you from doing something fun, different, and challenging.

Most importantly, take it one year at a time -- starting this year.

That Darn Blasted "Doghouse" Video and Why I'm Barely Able to Blog

2008-12-30T14:25:00.005-05:00

For Christmas, I thought my husband was going to get me a wireless booster. Invisible forces often knock my internet connection to Kingdom Come, requiring a complete re-boot of the whole system with a run up the stairs. Since the husband told me about the relay, each time I ran up the stairs, I counted the days until Christmas.

He didn’t give me one.

After Christmas we were standing around Best Buy and I mentioned that I thought he was going to give me an internet booster. He told me he was, but he was afraid because of the “Beware of the Doghouse” video.

What?

One of my girlfriends had emailed me the link. I laughed. When my husband was wandering around the kitchen, I hit play on my laptop. He laughed much harder than me. Now I haven’t gotten what I wanted for Christmas.

If you haven’t seen the video advertisement, some poor schmuck gave his wife a vacuum cleaner. Even though it was a “dual-bag” vacuum cleaner, she condemned him to fold laundry for all eternity down in the doghouse with other men who had made such mistakes with presents.

Since it ridiculed the women who would do this to their husbands, I thought it was funny. I never thought of myself as one of “those” women. The last thing I want is for my husband to waste money on jewelry when there are useful and fun-filled gifts for the picking. (For the record, he gave me something I adored but would never actually purchase, so he’s good.)

Over the weekend, one of my sister-in-laws said that her husband had laughed much harder than her when they watched the doghouse video. Since our husbands seemed to be laughing because they identified with the situation from personal experience, we were both slightly annoyed. We didn’t like being lumped in with these women, but men identify with the video because they feel like they never know the right thing to do.

I count on my husband to make my life better each day. He’s my “Can Do Pig”, a reference from a children’s book which I have always considered a compliment even though it doesn’t sound like one. At the births of our sons, he gave me the diamonds and pearls, so I’m not against sentimental jewelry. But what has become apparent in the last few days is that I depend on him to come up with the big solutions and erase all the problems in my life.

To me, that’s a much greater gift. I hope men figure out the right thing to do.

Update: Our nephew spent a day trying to install a wireless booster then returned it. Maybe the Doghouse saved us some trouble afterall!

What Do You Do When Your Friend’s Kid Steals From You?

2008-12-21T22:40:00.001-05:00

The past several days I’ve been wrestling with a situation. One of my older son’s friends has taken my younger son’s toy. It’s not the first time. What do you do about a situation like this?

During a sleepover with the friend, my younger son nestled his three Bakugan on their magnetic cards on his desk when he went to sleep. My husband saw them there at bedtime. This was his toy of the moment. He carried the little balls everywhere. Since they’re magnetic they were even attached to his silverware at dinner. He had to earn 10 extra homework points to get them and this took 21 days. The number of days is etched on my mind because earning the toys was as stressful for me as it was for my son. This toy meant a lot to all of us.

The friend was sleeping over on a school night. Just as the older boys were about to go to middle school, the little one woke up and said his Bakugan were missing. He was trying to get the boy to show him where they were, but it was time for them to go to school. As the vehicle pulled away, my son started to wail and I understood what had occurred.

Just before they had left, I told the boy that he didn’t need to take his overnight duffle bag to school. He had this slight panicked look and involuntarily started to move toward it, then stopped. I noted that his reaction was odd at the time. He had been upstairs going back and forth between the bathroom and my son’s dark bedroom several times. Just as I went to ask him what he needed, he dodged downstairs for breakfast. The whole morning had this slightly unsettled feeling for me.

Since my son was crying, I immediately went to the duffle bag. The Bakugan weren’t there but under the clothes I found my son’s coin collection and his cub scout flashlight. Since he wasn’t crying about these items, I ignored them.

What do you do? All I wanted was for the Bakugan to come back. Bakugan were the main thing on his Christmas list and now he was without the few he had earned.

I called the parent and happily reported that they were off to school on time. Then I explained that my little guy was crying because he woke up and his toys were missing from his desk. I didn’t think my older son had moved them. Could he ask his son about it? There was worry on both sides about how to handle this, but still hope for a happy ending. However, a couple of phone calls later, I was told that they were in my house. The boy claimed they had been playing a keep-away-game where he held the Bakugan hostage. The boy didn’t remember anything. When I explained that he had been keeping them “hostage” in his hoodie pocket until my son removed them, there was some anger from the parent. The boy is willing to share a few of his Bakugan with us.

Even my little one said, “He is just trying to make himself feel better.” Yes, I explained, it’s called “alleviating guilt”.

No one wants for anyone to be upset. I’ve lost two nights sleep.

I haven’t mentioned the other items in the bag or the fact that one day last summer all my older son’s best Yu-gi-o cards disappeared. They had been playing with them and when the boy left my son went over to his decks on the table and all the best cards were gone. We didn’t say anything. We don’t want to start trouble or accuse a friend. You don’t know how to make that phone call. I made the call this time but the parent believes his boy would not lie. I’m struggling.

One part of me thinks I should just forget about it. We already accepted that we lost our best cards a long time ago. We are hoping that the Bakugan my mother-in-law bought for Christmas are an exact replacement. In the meantime, we gave him one of his Santa presents and frantically paid a fortune online to get another one delivered so that Santa doesn’t look bad. You can’t buy these toys in stores because they sell out immediately.

But what do I do next time the boy comes over to our house knowing that he has probably been taking things each time?

Do I frisk him down and go through his bag? Of course, I couldn’t do that in front of the dad. Okay, I can’t do it at all.

Do I talk with the boy myself? Tell him all I know? Warn him? It’s not my place. What good would it do? He lies to me about things all the time. You can’t have conversations like this with someone else’s child.

What if he starts to steal MY things? It’s an awful feeling. This is the feeling my sons have now. We all know what is happening.

The boy needs help. He needs to learn that he can’t take things. What if I don’t say anything and he gets arrested for taking something? Don’t I have a responsibility to try to teach him right from wrong? I care about this family.

I don’t want to l lose the friendship because they can never visit us again. I don’t want to lose the friendship because I tell the whole story and there is anger at me. Bad feelings will hang between us. I’ve spent days trying to find the right words. If I tell the whole story, I still won’t be able to trust the kid, and I probably will have lost a friend.

I want my sons to learn from this situation and I’m afraid that no matter what I do it will be wrong. Do I teach that you keep friends you don’t trust and let them take from you? Do you discard friends when they do wrong? Do you try to help someone with a problem? Can the boy really be helped?

I think I’m going to lose some more sleep.

Do You Want Fries With That "A"?

2008-12-09T14:27:00.005-05:00

ABC News Reports the following and my mouth is hanging open:

California Teacher Gets Creative

"The budget is so tight in the suburbs of San Diego that at Rancho Bernardo High School calculus teacher Tom Farber didn't have enough paper to give practice tests. Then a bus advertisement sparked an idea.

"I said, you know, in the face of tough times, maybe I could do something similar in my classroom and advertise on my test," Farber said.

The bottom of each of Farber's calculus quizzes features an inspirational message paid for by parents or local businesses. He's not happy about taking such desperate measures, but the average public school teacher already spends around $430 of their own money on supplies, according to the National Education Association."

Has it really come to this? I was appalled when technology would allow advertisers to flash messages in the night sky from satelites. Thank goodness no one has pursued this method, but advertising on the bottom of tests is just as invasive.

I choose to use gmail and view the advertisements down the right-side column. While on Facebook, I fight the urge everyday to type in "sex toy" just to see if they have ads on this subject. I know the price and attempt to find humor as I trudge along in cyberspace.

In these situations I've chosen to use a service for free with the understanding that I will be subjected to advertising. We're the t.v. generation so we know that we need to pay the price with advertising or subscribe. But students don't have a choice and I don't want my night sky blocked by advertising.

The sad part is that teachers are so poorly paid that they must resort to such measures. In our community, the last two affordable housing proposals have been met with resistance. Expenses are up and we've all lost more than 30% on our investments. Times are tough.

I applaud ingenuity by our teachers, but advertising on tests, even if the message motivates, seems out of place.

Lets not miss the big point here, our school budgets should include enough funding for paper so that teachers can give tests.

Our PTA reimburses teachers for some of their out-of-pocket expenses. At the last meeting, we asked the teachers to tell us what we could purchase to make their jobs easier, especially since they were voting to forgo their salary increases. Perhaps the parents in San Diego could start a fund instead of paying for advertising.

Sometimes it's all about morale.

Is It Better?

2008-12-03T00:10:00.001-05:00

Tears keep welling up in my eyes. The same tears you find dripping down your cheeks at a sad movie. On occasion, I’ve had these tears for a couple at my church. Today the tears were at her funeral.

They both have a disability, special needs. When they were young, he went to her family and convinced them that he could take care of her. Together they could have a life. He would work, pay rent, get food, buy clothes, and have medical care. At first they wouldn’t let him marry her but they finally agreed.

For 22 years he has been completely and totally devoted to her. He often would do the speaking but her eyes were always bright and she would say a few words. After awhile, she would seek me out and have a good conversational question, one woman to another. She seemed proud to be able to do that and she would surprise me. They always made a fuss over our boys and would carefully remember and repeat their names. We heard stories of how it was when they were young. You could tell how much their parents meant to them.

He would always explain how they were taking care of all the details in their lives and even going out for entertainment, a full life. He lived to take care of her, just as he promised he would do.

When he mentioned her cancer, my first thought was that God couldn’t possibly take her from him. I couldn’t get past how absolutely cruel it would be for her to die. He would recount all the details from the doctor. He always knew exactly when the next appointment would be. Upon questioning, the facts didn’t sound good. It seemed serious but he convinced us that she would be fine. As he put his arm around her, you could tell that she believed him, so I did too. She went into remission.

The cancer came back. She wasn’t able to work and he had retired to take care of her. On one of my runs through the neighborhood, they were coming out of the church. I stopped briefly as she waited with a walker. I didn’t understand exactly what was happening to her, but thought it must be something else.

On Sunday we learned she was gone. Today he was so deeply sad, so slumped. Perhaps this is a breaking point for me. Another long-time couple ripped apart.

After my father died I thought I would be stronger in hospitals, as if I had built up immunity to the sadness. Shortly thereafter I went to visit my boyfriend’s grandmother in the hospital. Luckily she decided that she didn’t want to meet me in her condition because I was down at the end of a hallway by a window unable to handle the situation. I never met her.

About ten pages into a philosophy paper in college, I realized I had picked the wrong premise. I couldn’t crank out a paper supporting the statement “It is better to have loved and lost.”

On days like today, I still don’t know if I could.

Samsung Omnia 910 Handheld Heaven

2008-11-30T16:47:00.007-05:00

I’ve had a tough time with my laptop addiction since going back to a part-time office job.

For a few years I’ve heard about the CrackBerries so I thought I should get one. Since the Storm was building on the horizon, I waited for its release. What a disappointment since it was recalled for software problems before the release date and the touch screen keyboard was impossibly small (which has been an ongoing BlackBerry problem). However, once I played with the touch screens in the store, I couldn’t tolerate the mouse-like BlackBerry. The world had changed and I wasn’t going back.

What’s a poor girl to do if she’s not willing to give up her Verizon coverage in the Washington DC Metro system? I’d have to forgo a new phone until technology improved and ignore all the iphone people. My husband found out that he could upgrade his phone and my sixth-grade son could be added to our plan now with a free phone. I could change my mind at any time in the future without a problem.

Fellow blogger Jennifer Deseo at the Silver Spring Penguin told me that the Samsung Omnia 910 was due to be released and it had wifi (which the Storm does not). [If you live in Montgomery County, MD, you should be reading the Penguin.] Friends, Tim and Heather, happened to be in the Verizon store to get a free phone for their sixth grader and they pointed out the Omnia after I mentioned it. Heather bought one. Still on the fence, we set up our plan without upgrading my phone. At the last possible moment, I threw all caution to the wind and bought the Omnia.

When it comes to new technology, my philosophy is to let everyone else pay the expensive prices and work out the bugs. This was a major change in my consumer profile, but the Omnia 910 is as close to a laptop in my pocket as I could get.

As an event planner, my Microsoft Excel spreadsheets are my up-to-the-minute memory. The ability to update on-the-go was a major plus for the Omnia, which has the Office Suite: Excel, Word, and Powerpoint mobile. The Omnia has a small stylus dangling from its side for working on these documents. If you don’t have razor sharp fingernails like me, you will have an easier time with it. Since I never had a Palm, I was working out my stylus envy.

You can visit the Samsung website and watch cool videos that explain all the features of the Omnia. No program is more than two screen touches away. Zooming in and out is as easy as tapping the screen twice. The camera and video is 5 pixels which is as good as my current camera, so I won’t have to take it with me when blogging anymore.

As a blogger, I have full access to gmail, google maps, google calendar and other features which I don’t use. You can use blogger.com to write and add a picture or video to a blog, but not your own. Google will create a new blog and you have to get home and post it to your blog on the laptop. At least some of the work can be done in the field but I haven’t tried it yet.

The touch screen keyboard is big enough for my fingers and has a vibrate setting that helps with typing. Of course, the screen orientation has a motion detector. There’s video and picture messaging and the ability to visually see your voice mail without going into your account. You can watch tv and movies, as well as listen to the radio. When web browsing, five tabs can be open at one time and the device is geared toward keeping you in touch with all your social networking sites. There’s music, weather, and metric conversions. You can take notes during a phone conversation. This morning it fit in my tiny little jacket pocket.

Since I’m a klutz , I’ve already dropped my Omnia three times without a problem. My old cell was a Samsung and honestly, I think you could play baseball with it.

Most of a night’s sleep was lost playing with the Omnia and I still haven’t figured out everything it can do. As close as I could get to sleeping with it under my pillow, the darn thing woke me up when it was fully charged. Unfortunately, the battery ran low after about seven hours. For me, that’s not long enough, so we’ll have to see how it goes this week.

No matter, life's been upgraded.

"The Family Unit Must Remain Together"

2008-11-27T09:47:00.003-05:00

Last summer, I took my sons to the amusement park. The boys are almost the same height so an amusement park trip would be fine with one parent. We could easily stay together. Although I’ve been a full-time mom for eleven years and have done just about everything possible, I’d never ventured to an amusement park with them alone.

Twenty years ago when my husband and I started dating, we had the reputation of doing everything together. When we were married, we couldn’t understand all the couples that split up errands on the weekends. Grocery shopping and all those other tasks were never fun, but when we were together it didn’t matter. We were together.

During the summer months we always visit amusement parks as a family, sometimes camping exclusively for this purpose. But for the first time, I was in an amusement park without my husband. Both my sons will jump on any ride, no matter how treacherous. We went on the swings but then hit the two big wooden roller coasters. Then we changed to bathing suits and threw ourselves down the water slides. Laughing and teasing, we enjoyed every part of the park and were happy to be together.

Although enjoying the thrills, a part of me was missing. The four person water slide would have been faster without that empty seat, not to mention I couldn’t carry the giant tube without help from a fine young man in the group behind us. The roller coaster seat next to me was empty all the time. The experience felt slightly lonely.

Recently, my best friend lost his partner of 23 years in a terrible, unusual accident. He called me that morning when the police told him to call someone. It reminded me of September 11th when people jumped out of the World Trade Center holding hands. Everyone started to think about who they would hold hands with to jump. Who would you call if you found your spouse dead? Who’s going to hold your hand? I was one of many that showed up that day and the experience was a nightmare, a horror.

I felt guilty for going home to my husband.

At the amusement park I missed my husband in a small way, knowing that my friend feels this way about every single moment of the day without relief. I knew that my family would be together for our regular evening dinner, but my friend’s loss never ends. I feel his pain because we have been so close. He’s always the one I call when I feel down. He never fails to put my situations in perspective and cut to the chase about the other people in my life.

So I understand the pain of his loss. I even feel it but I can’t fix it. He has to reinvent his family with his son. A new life needs to be created.

This fall our oldest nephew went to college. His dad and I always keep up with each other and share the news. They cried when he left. I tried to console him by emphasizing what a wonderful job they had done with their son. He’s a remarkable young man who I admire. He’s a caring person who learned sign language and has a full scholarship to college – tuition, room and board. The change in their family is just so large.

Although I’m thick in the middle of my family with a young child who can’t be left alone, I know there are changes coming. Not yet, but soon. Even now the oldest one has all day and weekend commitments and the younger one goes to sleepovers .The family unit is not together all the time like it used to be. I’m thankful for the times we are.

I’m also thankful for the friends who dropped everything to be with me when I needed them this year, and most of all, I’m thankful for the strength we give each other to get through life’s changes.

Can I Stop the Stumble?

2008-11-21T13:08:00.004-05:00

As I've mentioned, I fell the first time I tried to ride the motorcycle across the parking lot. When it came time for my riding exam on the course, my nerves were starting to get the best of me. With this article in mind, I stamped my nice, new black leather boots on the parking lot, and kicked it into high gear.

In high school calculus, they gave us an exam to determine our problem solving ability. It did not cover material from the class. We all knew the score did not count. When it was over and our graded papers were coming back, the teacher hesitated next to my desk, holding my paper. He had read about this, but had never seen such a clear example.

I had the first five answers correct, then hit one I couldn’t do, which led to the next few wrong. Then I found one that was easy and had success on the next few, until I found one I didn’t know again. Without exception, the results were groupings of right and wrong answers. With concern on his face, my teacher advised me to be aware of this tendency to get rattled by wrong answers.

He had put a weight around my neck with no hope of removing it. All I could think about was all those wrong answers.

I call this my “stumble”. The “stumble” occurs when the results don’t matter, the outcome is celebrated, and the situation is beyond my control. These days, I still grapple with it. I “stumble” and can’t seem to get my balance for a while afterwards.

Although not always as obvious as a black-and-white test on a piece of paper, the stumble surfaces in other ways. Last year I didn’t read the agenda. Just before the meeting started, I discovered I was responsible for more than an hour of it. To add to my grief, I couldn’t find my file. I winged it from memory -- but my entire week was put off balance. I felt inadequate for days, as if everything was slipping through my fingers. All my encounters seemed bad.

For the last month, I have been co-hosting an internet radio show about local happenings. During two of the shows my connection filled with static and caused problems. Each time I could dial back in to the show without a problem, but I wasn’t at my best. Feeling frustrated and filled with mistakes, I didn’t perform well. After each show, it takes me days to regain my footing.

I always notice people who can just shrug things off with a “no big deal” attitude. How do they do that? How do you not care that you made a mistake?

In my high school calculus test, I immediately lost confidence, thinking that I wasn’t as smart as the other kids. This is really what magnified and set off my failure. During the no-agenda meeting, I knew I was the best person to organize the event but I wasn’t perfect. Although I had confidence, it didn’t go exactly right. Is it a loss of confidence or a desire for perfectionism that causes me to stumble?

Educators are aware of this effect. I must not be the only one who struggles with it. How does a person recover from the little calamities in life? Distance from the incident often helps, but when it’s happening you don’t have any distance. The effects can be stopped with reason over time, but in order for me to function well, there needs to be an immediate fix. The goal is to let things slide and not feel dreadful. Being aware of the stumble problem helps, but how do we run upright during the short sprints and keep going?

We won’t make changes until we fail and know that we have something to change. Change takes commitment, dedication, and energy. In this case, all three need to occur on the spot. Lately I have been mentally forcing myself to put the problem away, as if in a box, but often I still don’t perform well because I feel bad. Feelings are not as easy to turn off and they only get worse in that box.

So I’ve decided I need to picture myself in boots, with Nancy Sinatra singing “These Boots Are Made For Walking.” I mentally put my foot down and try to shrug it off. Since it’s all in my head, I might as well have the luxury of sturdy, stylish boots. Hopefully, this will speed up time and help me feel better. Whether it works or not, the important part is recognizing the situation and finding a personal way to improve.

Step by step.

On Wheels

2008-09-06T12:40:00.002-04:00

At the end, only 7 of the 12 in my Motorcycle Safety Class actually walked away with their licenses. I was one. It wasn't easy.

We all aced the written test. I was thanked for everyone getting one particular question correct due to my overly-thorough presentation. Granted, I misunderstood and wrote out the answers to all 126 (I only remember because it's my birthday 1-26!) questions in the study guide. Now when I ride these facts sometimes pop up in my mind giving me some confidence, so it's not necessarily an awful mistake.

During the class, I didn't think I was doing all that well. I'm sloppy. I push everything as far as it will go. I was going too fast.

Added to all of these naturally-wrong instincts was the fact that I fell over with the bike the first time we had to ride it in a straight line. The bike fell on my leg - bad. My elbow was bleeding and took a few bandaids. My fingers weren't working because of a bicycle accident two weeks earlier. If I doubted how serious this excursion was going to be, I found out right away.

After we had to do tight turns, the instructor gave a speech about how only a few people could really control their bikes at slow speeds. For some reason, he spent the whole speech staring at me. I just figured I must be the worst in the class.

I spent the night after my first day on the range concentrating on every single move we had to make. The last thing I did before leaving the class was ask my instructor why I couldn't stop. With frustration, he explained that he couldn't really tell but it was one of two things. All night I thought about how to correct both, just to be on the safe side.

On the second day of range practice, I kept up the speed but had more control. I stopped perfectly and the instructor sent me on to practice other skills.

During the test I aced everything. I was surprised that most people in the class couldn't do the tight turns. I guess the instructor looked at me because I could handle the bike at slow speeds.

Each step of the process on the range took all of my concentration, strength, and courage. It's worse on the street with traffic.

Cars Can Change Your Life

2008-06-01T10:15:00.004-04:00

One night last week my husband explained that the car wouldn’t start. Since it was in the garage, I just left it there. The next day I jumped in the Jeep. Between piano lessons and soccer practice the Jeep wouldn’t start. How can both vehicles stop running at the same time?

For most families this would be a catastrophe but we have a Class B RV van and a classic ’72 Hurst, so I just grabbed another set of keys. After a few trips in the bulky RV and a realization that it didn’t fit in the school carpool lane, I went with the Hurst, which we call “Sylvester”.

Sylvester is great for Sunday drives as a family and perfect-weather evenings with the windows down. As it’s all white with gold racing strips, heads turn at every intersection. The front hood is soooo long and the V8 is mighty powerful. The attention from passerby is addictive. People wave and smile.

Both vehicles were in the shop for a week. The old car grew really old.

As I raced from appointment to pickup to practice, I kept glancing at the dashboard clock, except there is no dashboard clock. Honestly, I didn’t realize how much I look at the clock all day. Old cars don’t have cup holders either. In the morning my coffee mug was stuck between my legs and in the afternoon my bottle of green tea. Here’s the worst part, only an AM radio. Granted, I like news radio but not all the time, so I had to drive around with my ipod in my ears. Those little conveniences never meant anything to me. All the hoopla about cup holders always seemed ridiculous, but my perspective changed.

Each day I felt out of place. For some reason I was always a few minutes late. I had to keep using a key to open the doors. A key takes longer than a remote and the doors are more difficult to open. Sometimes the key needs to be jiggled to get the car started. Most of the time I didn’t have a reason for being late but everything was just slower. Since the car is so precious I had to drive carefully. Other drivers look at Sylvester and vere off in unexpected patterns. Driving requires more time and attention.

I had no idea that a vehicle could make such a difference. Day after day I felt out of sorts, cut off from my life. Your vehicle changes the way you feel. So for the first time in my life, I’m wondering what I could feel like behind the wheel of a different automobile.

I’ve never had a dream car. My dad bought me an old Duster with racing stripes and slated windows when I graduated from college but I was never fond of it. When I bought my first car my goal was dependability and price. The Buick Skyhawk looked cool in black but then the dealership called and reported that the car was discontinued in black. When we married, my husband and I bought a Jeep Cherokee because it felt right to both of us, rugged, ready to work. My husband picked out the current sedan and even though I knew it would wind up being mine when his commute as a professor ended, my only request was cutting-edge safety features for our new baby son.

Practical. I’ve always been practical. My recent week with Sylvester made me realize that cars can change the way you feel about yourself. Can a new life really be as easy as a new set of car keys? If it’s true I want a sports car, preferably a convertible. Sleek and fast for dodging around town. Ease and style would be at my fingertips in every suburban parking lot.

Although very powerful, our fine automobiles are not the only material thing capable of changing your day. Last year, I just felt down in the dumps when I rolled out of bed. Resisting the temptation to put on old baggy clothes to mirror my feelings, I grabbed a flattering outfit and put on the war paint. Down at the kid’s school, everyone responded to me with enthusiasm because I looked happy. I knew that if I was standing there dressed like I felt, nobody would have been cheery.

All the world’s a stage. My son is going to be the prince in Cinderella. He’s very upset because they are stuck with the forest set from the preceding play. He wants a castle. He wants the right props. Without them, it just won’t be the same.

Our everyday lives can also benefit from the right scenery. Brandishing the props – cars or clothes – can set the stage for success but really it’s all about your attitude. The way you feel is the way people will respond. These things shouldn’t matter but we’re human in a material world.

The convertible will make me feel just fine.

Carrying Around the Past

2008-05-27T23:39:00.003-04:00

When I descend the stairs to the basement, my heart sinks. A sea of boxes clutters the unfinished footprint of our house. Many of my childhood possessions, including all my dolls, grow dusty and old. Up until now, I haven’t been able to part with them. Will I ever be rid of them?

For a long time I felt isolated from my past. My childhood and college years didn’t seem real. The whirlwind of kid and volunteer activities enveloped me and nothing existed before my present life as a mom in the suburbs. When I tried to describe the sensation to my husband, he didn’t understand my desire to embrace those distant, and often unhappy, days.

Last year, I peeked inside the basement boxes and remembered playing with the dolls and cleaning my room. The physical presence of the items reminded me of my parents’ divorce and my desire to leave that place. Then after many years without contact, I spent a couple of weekends with a good friend from college. Having someone else remember all the same exploits reaffirmed my memories, but also forced me to acknowledge the waywardness of my behavior. These connections to my past made me feel whole, but also brought pain.

The more I accept my past and talk about it, the more I’m convinced I can actually get rid of the boxes.

Perhaps we reach a point in our lives when it’s time for a spring cleaning. A good toss of all the shortcomings we’ve been carrying around since our childhood. In order to free ourselves, we need to confront our memories. By letting go, we can be the person we want to be.

Unencumbered by our mistakes and the missteps of others, we can make sure we are headed in the right direction to accomplish what we want with the rest of our lives. Although we may think we are on the right path, if we chose it many years ago, it may not lead to the life we want.

The old possessions can be donated or brought to the dump. I’m ready to trust that my past will always be with me without these material objects. Up until now I thought discarding these things would be a betrayal, as if I was turning my back on my family and our history. By accepting the good and the bad, the betrayal disappears.

Lately, I spend a great deal of time thinking about the person I want to be. Hopefully with a lighter load, moving on will be easier.

Motorcycle Moments

2008-05-08T20:10:00.003-04:00

“Don’t you think that’s dangerous?” my friend asked with a slight frown. Last week I excitedly signed up to take the Basic Riders Course required for a motorcycle license. Friends’ comments vary from cool to crazy, but this decision has been years in the making and it’s mine.

Since my dad always looked out for his little girl, he adamantly forbade me to get on the back of a bike. He had good reason to discourage motorcycles when the drivers were young and irresponsible. One afternoon when I was standing in my uncle’s barnyard in Upstate New York, one of the guys took the turn onto the bridge too fast. The motorcycle made it, but he didn’t. As I watched, his right leg was broken back in an unnatural position. The ambulance took forever while he screamed in pain then grew silent. We thought we were losing him until they started to cut off his jeans. He yelled, “I don’t have on any underwear!” His worry over this detail assured us that he was going to be fine. Dad’s warnings were justified.

Years later as an adult, my dad’s rule was very much on my mind when my husband asked me to ride. We were only dating back then, but I trusted him and jumped on the back of a bike. He would take me out over the mountains in rural Pennsylvania. Soaring over the hills with my arms around him was the most exhilarating feeling. I never wanted to let go.

After we had our first child, my husband took possession of one of his family’s bikes. With an authoritative attitude, I deemed the Washington, DC area too dangerous. As parents, it would be irresponsible for the both of us to get on a motorcycle. No need for my father’s warnings, my own apprehensions were taking precedent. My husband suggested I get a license. He rightly surmised that if I was on my own bike, I would agree to ride. Although an enticing idea, I was soon pregnant with our second son and it didn’t happen.

Last year I signed up for the motorcycle course but had to cancel because my husband took a different year-long work detail and we had to go away that week. Fighting a strong feeling that this was the end of it, I promised myself that in a year I would take the course. Now I’m signed up four months in advance, waiting for my reward.

The little voice in my head is very much warning me to be careful. Even so, there’s no doubt that my time to hit the road on two wheels is finally arriving, my very own motorcycle moment.

Not Seeing the Big Circle Around Us

2008-04-11T23:44:00.000-04:00

Yesterday my boys went to their first practice for the track team. My oldest ran up a steep hill three times with ease. The younger one kept smiling and running with enthusiasm. I was proud of their dedication.

At the end the coach called the team together. There must be more than 80 kids from 1st grade through middle school. He asked them to form a big circle and face in one direction. At first I didn’t notice my two boys in the middle with their backs to me. I was chatting and joking with a fellow parent. We both noticed them at the same time. As I don’t sugarcoat anything about my kids, I blurted out, “Oh my gosh, look at my kids!” We laughed. I tried to decide if I should go across the field and into the giant circle and make them stand like everyone else. They were listening to the coach. If I went out there, I would draw attention to them and create a scene.

How can you not notice when everyone else is doing something? As kids we’ve all stood in a circle for games. You feel the energy surrounding you. Everyone is looking at you. How could you possibly not notice?

When we came home I asked them about it. At first it was crowded so they stayed toward the front and everyone else must have moved. That was it.

Have you ever noticed other people oblivious to a situation?

I was tempted to give examples like someone eating while everyone else at the table waits to be served or someone talking on a cell phone in a quiet room, but this is not rudeness. It’s something else.

When my father was dying, the complications from his diabetes worsened over a couple of years. As I describe the situation, you know he is close to death. He was blind. His kidneys had failed and dialysis wasn’t working. Gigantic calcium deposits the size of baseballs were all over his body. He was missing parts of his fingers and toes to gangrene. Doctors came in to examine him because they had never seen someone so far along. Each of these conditions was a small battle. They developed over years and he survived each one. He would get through.

His sister is squeamish and came to the hospital. I changed his socks as a matter of course. She ran out of the room. Down at the end of the hall she cried and told me I had to know he was dying. I didn’t know, not really. There had been so many hospital visits and he was only 50 and I just kept taking care of him. It took someone to tell me directly before I saw it.

The bar moves slightly and you adjust. This continues to happen and you don’t realize how much things have changed. My boys made an adjustment to where they were standing and never realized the true situation. We all just keep plowing forward in life. It’s easy to say we should take stock of our situations and notice if things are different, but there’s no guarantee we will. That’s why we need other people to understand and help us join the circle.

Lying for Your Spouse

2008-04-03T09:44:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I realized a friend lied to me a year ago. Back then I didn’t know that her marriage was dysfunctional. I believed her. I believed this lie for a full year even after learning how she lies to everyone to survive her narcissistic husband and cover up the terrible distress of her family. She left me in the lurch that day because I had been depending on her. It was a bit of a disaster.

Up until this point I have been understanding, but I became angry. The anger spread to a couple of other friends who had lied to me in the last few months.

In one case the husband and wife told me two completely different stories. One was elaborate with many details and the other was a simple denial of the situation. I’d always believed the long-winded story but my ten-year-old son declared that the story is probably the lie. After spending a night thinking about it, he may be right. I now realize that the friend was trying to tell me something else with that story. Who knows? I just know one of them lied.

The other case was a simple lie, an excuse. I found out because someone I know was excitedly telling me about an event. The details did not fit with what my friend had told me. I must have had disbelief on my face so this person continued to add details to confirm the date, time, and people. Truthfully, I didn’t want to know. During the conversation, I just wanted to believe that my friend had not lied. When pounded with the facts, I couldn’t deny it. Although there could be reasons, it was still a lie to me.

In all three cases the lie involved the friends’ spouses. Can I ever believe anything someone tells me regarding their spouse? Seriously, I’m in doubt.

As a Philosophy major I had to read a book about lying. One of the basic premises of survival is that people will lie to protect self and kin. Remembering this tenet does not help me gain faith in my friends, but rather confirms a sad reality.

Currently I am rereading Rockville Pike by Susan Coll. In this story the main character, Jane Kramer, starts lying to everyone. Her marriage is in dire straits and she finds herself covering for it with more and more lies. She contemplates the person she has become.

In all of the cases where my friends have lied to me, I believe there are problems with the marriages. Some hide it much better than others. My husband doesn’t agree, so maybe I’m just trying to find a way to at least trust some friends. If I can deem a marriage strong with good communication, maybe I can trust those friends. I’m grasping at straws.

We all want our lives to appear perfect. The public image of a happy family that interacts with the community and is willing to meet people and be friendly is paramount to a little white lie.

Now that my guard is up, I’m fearful that I will scrutinize everything that people say to me. Since you really can’t function this way in life, I will have to believe people. However, I doubt I will invest any emotional energy into what people say to me. The only thing to do is go forward in good faith, but protect yourself.

Is It Real or Fake Friendship?

2008-03-27T17:20:00.001-04:00

One local fellow wrote that he was glad we are “friends” on facebook.com. We have met at public meetings and I would talk to him, but it is very true that we are not friends in real life. Since his profiIe was up on facebook, I sent a friend request. In “fake life” we are now “friends”.

What kind of friends are these people? I see references to “online friends” and “cyber friends”. There are poems about cyber friends. Websites designed to help you make netfriendships. There is no expectation of knowing these people in the flesh. I know I’m not nearly the first person to wonder about this, but every day I see more ads and ways to connect online. To me it always seems like a waste of time, or a way to stop the loneliness, or an addiction to interacting. Even so, sometimes you do become closer to these people online, but is it really a friendship?

In my life around town, I know a lot of people, talk to a lot of people, and refer to a lot of people as friends. Because I volunteer in so many places, I have people to interact with in real life, so I’m having trouble processing these new cyberfriendships. Why do people do it? Is it a hopeful sign that we constantly want to reach out to strangers in this world? To me it feels like we are on a path to the oneness of death by joining together beyond the physical world. Now that’s too heavy, but this internet world does swirl around me. It can also disappear with the push of a button.

My disapproval seems to be at the falseness of the online friends. It’s like some type of hobby where you collect things, except in this case it’s people’s profiles. You learn things about people that you wouldn’t if you were say … just neighbors. Sometimes the information is too personal and directed at others but you are exposed to it. Most of the time people are putting their best foot forward or simply promoting themselves.

Online friends can give advice but they aren’t going to be able to help you move or water your plants when you are away. You can exchange ideas but the friendship isn’t real. These new kind of relationships depend on the amount of time you can spend on the laptop, as it sits right here on the counter while I dash around doing chores. Sometimes it feels more like an addiction which is usually when I stop.

Will I be better friends in real life with my “friend”. We’ll see.

The One and ONLY One Requirement for a Spouse

2008-03-20T23:21:00.005-04:00

This week I have decided that there is one and only one criteria when picking a spouse, the quality of the sex. Society deems it acceptable to go outside the marriage for every other facet of matrimony but not sex, so you had better make sure it is good.

The public really frowns on affairs and prostitution which is very evident in the media frenzy concerning former Gov. Spitzer this week. He apparently admits to both. You just can’t, can’t, can’t go outside the marriage for sex. Think about it, for everything else it is perfectly fine.

If your spouse doesn’t like to talk, you can talk to a friend. Why stop at one friend? Find a bunch. We all have cell phones. I always wonder who everyone is talking to when they almost run me off the road. It can’t always be a spouse. You can also depend on family members like siblings, mothers, fathers, or aunts. Talking with a trustworthy individual about all sorts of personal subjects is completely acceptable. You can have a best friend in your corner to support you in everything that you do. Society will not blink an eye at the relationship.

If your spouse won’t support your career path, then find a mentor, depend on a coworker, or get a counselor. Recently I even read an article on “work spouses”. People actually admit that they are very close to someone of the opposite sex at work, confide in them, go out with them, watch each other’s backs, discuss everyone else at the office, and basically share everything. I’d never been in one of these, but I think about Jim and Pam on “The Office”. All said and done, this type of relationship seems to be accepted by people.

How about if your spouse is a terrible cook? What about if you both hate to cook? If you are really rich, you can hire one. There’s always the possibility of takeout every night or going out to eat. Fast food restaurants or prepared meals from the supermarket are also extremely easy options. You needn’t marry someone who can cook.

Same goes for cleaning. You can always hire a cleaning service. Both spouses can be pigs.

You may not agree on financial matters but there really is only so much money, so you are forced to work these problems out.

If you belong to different political parties or religions, it’s alright to go your separate ways and follow your heart. Want to play a sport that your spouse hates? Go right ahead and join a team. You can watch sports with your friends too and yell your head off. If you love books, join a book club. Thank goodness for ipods if you like completely different types of music and you can always go to a concert with a fellow fan.

Society really doesn’t care.

You do have to agree on whether to have children or not but there are countless instances of infertility or accidents that change people’s plans. This one is not entirely up to the couple but there should be agreement, or at least nieces and nephews you can borrow if need be.

Thinking about having kids, brings me back to sex. You can’t go elsewhere for this one, so it sure better be knock your socks off as in “I never imagined it could be this excellent in my wildest dreams.” It’s the one and only thing you must exclusively get from your spouse so no other criteria matters when getting married.

Believe me, I never thought I would say this because it sounds so shallow and purely physical. Since sex really is the most absolutely awesome thing you can do, why wouldn't you make it your number one priority for your entire married life when you know you can’t get it anywhere else?

One Small Way

2008-03-15T12:50:00.003-04:00

Last year, my friend Christine gave me a book, Through the Eye of the Storm by Cholene Espinoza. She buys them by the case and gives them away because all the proceeds go to building a community education center to serve the Katrina survivors in Mississippi. The book is written by a phenomenal pilot who witnessed the devastation from the hurricane and was moved to action to help rebuild a community. Along the way she makes many discoveries about herself. The faith and strength of this book continues with me each day. Quite frankly, I’m in awe of these women. Amidst the overwhelming feeling of despair we all feel about Katrina, they are making a difference in one community.

Last year at my Episcopal church, I was talking in my usual way. I found myself suggesting that it would be great to have a coffee house. We should fling wide the doors of our parish and invite the community to perform. We had never had a coffee house at the church nor had I ever organized one, but I love music and thought that everyone would have a good time.

Ideas flew around and we decided to collect donations for Richmond, South Africa, a community living in poverty. Three women from our parish who work in medical fields were going to travel to meet this community and hear their needs. All the better if my fun little coffee house can help someone. We wound up raising $1,800 and collecting a few hundred dollars worth of items that the women would take on the plane with them to make sure they were not stolen during delivery, which happens. The idea was to have a fund so that when they came back with a clear understanding of what they needed, we could help.

In life, I’m just the inspiration and the organizer. I do events in my sleep. I haven’t spoken to the women since they returned two weeks ago. Last week one gave me a small African instrument because of the coffee house, but that has been the extent of my contact.

Some of the items we collected were for a sewing business. We gave them supplies so that they could sew and sell. Many international programs have been established to help people move toward self sufficiency in developing nations.

At their presentation this week, I was listening to the stories about the people, the conditions, and the facilities. The sewing shop was not great and had substandard machines, but the women were dedicated and trying to earn a living. They need three sewing machines and a press. The women from my church told them to buy them.

They made this announcement in the middle of the presentation, amid pictures that showed smiling women displaying their work, a report that they don’t have a bathroom, and the fact that the shop is next to a very busy liqueur store.

They are going to use the money to buy sewing machines. I was overwhelmed to know that far away in the desert in South Africa women are going to be able to sew to earn a livelihood with machines bought with the money from my coffee house idea. It was a powerful moment. In a tiny, tiny way I understand how Cholene Espinoza feels reaching out to help. The world is filled with problems and it’s not much help, but we will make a difference to these women and their families.

What should they sew that will sell here in the United States? They make pillows and placemats. Someone suggested baby bibs. What ideas do you have?

I Finally Know Someone Behind the Myspace Mask

2008-03-10T10:13:00.006-04:00

Today I discovered a myspace account. It belongs to a friend who is married with a kid. It states that he is Single and a Leo. He used a different name “Hugh” but the correct hometown. I don’t think he’s THAT much younger than me but let’s not quibble about that claim. There’s no picture.

For those women out there who have myspace accounts, you may know about the propositions. Often they are from men without pictures that want to start an email correspondence. Some are from places far away and some are from your metro area. I’ve always suspected that the ones that live far away are not that far away.

I wonder about these men. I’m very clear about being married but my husband always says that I’m worth a shot by these guys. They “like my smile”. Think I’m “intelligent like them”. I seem “fun and full of life”. They really would “enjoy talking to me”. One even admitted to a bad marriage and thought mine might be bad too. At least he was honest about wanting to have an affair. My suspicion was that he was someone I knew.

I’m in it for the bands. Really! My niece set me up so I could follow and promote bands. I was a college radio station disc jockey. I love music and wish we would have had myspace twenty years ago. But hey, the internet has killed college radio stations. Every single person has access to all the music so we don’t need someone to play all the new, unknown stuff for us. Come to think of it, thank goodness we didn’t have the internet because I loved that microphone!

Back to my friend with the fake myspace. He hasn’t touched it in more than a year. What did he try? Did he send a few messages? Did he just think about it? It’s not like Facebook where you need to have an account to see other people’s pages, plus he lied so there’s more going on.

All marriages have their ups and downs. I know his wife and have a feel for their marriage. It’s just so engrossing to finally have proof about one of these myspace guys. Was he drunk late at night? Why hasn’t he erased it?

To me, myspace is like being out at a bar, which is probably why I love it so much. There’s a band, a bunch of people who want to have a good time, and someone sends over a drink. Sorry, I’m just here for the music and I’m married but I understand because I look like I’m having a good time. No harm done.

However, I've been naïve about all of my extramarital affair options on such sites as: http://www.marriedcafe.com/, http://www.housewivesmatchonline.com/, http://www.discreetadventures.com/, or http://www.meet2cheat.com/.

With statistical claims that 60% of married men and 40% of married women admit to having affairs, this is big business.

If you are truly interested, why not just go full force with one of these sites? Why even bother with myspace? Will it be more real if you find the woman on your own and start a cyber dialog? Can you justify it by saying that it “just happened”? You “weren’t really looking just chatting online”?

I’m not going to mention the myspace find to him, but I’m curious. I considered asking to friend him so he knows that he has been found out, but he might take that the wrong way. I finally know one of these guys!

That Must Be a Murdered Body Over There

2008-03-08T21:32:00.005-05:00

When I was out running a couple of weeks ago, I saw clothes in the woods and my first thought was that it must be a dead body. Now, why would I think that? I wondered if everyone would think they were seeing a dead body.

Today someone must have forgotten a jacket on a log and I thought the same thing. The thought is very matter-of-fact with no emotion attached. We live in a nice suburban City and there really is no reason to be thinking there are dead bodies lying around.These are those quick, instant thoughts that slip out before you even know it. Where do they come from?

As I jogged along, I remembered that when I was five they found a dead man’s body in the lot next to my house. No identification on the body. No one knew who he was. My father explained that it was probably a mob hit, no big deal. They killed him over in New York and dumped him in the lot next to our house in New Jersey during the night because they could loop around the ramp straight back to New York.

When Tony Soprano drives out of the Lincoln Tunnel and gets on the NJ Turnpike at my exit, his fictional route passes about 200 feet from my childhood house. I love this TV sequence and study every detail everytime. It might have been a mob hit!

Is this why I think dead bodies will turn up during my nice run through the neighborhood? Why do we have these crazy first thoughts pop into our minds when we least expect it? In this case, I really think I was so young that I accepted the situation as normal.

Have you had such strange first thoughts? Do you understand why you have them?

Did She Just Threaten Me?

2008-03-07T12:26:00.006-05:00

This morning I was waiting for our PTA President to finish talking with the mother who is chairing a school activity. I would step outside then back in again while waiting to wave to my son's class before school started. So I overheard parts of the conversation and was REALLY glad I wasn't having it!

The PTA President is a warm and caring woman who I consider a friend. She grew up in Puerto Rico and reminds me of a girl from my childhood. When I was in grammar school Addie would exert a great deal of time trying to get me to look better. She was very open and honest and pulled you right in. By the way, it never worked. I was hopeless and just didn't care about what I looked like.

So here is our volunteer President who is a very special, caring person and she's being told in a forceful voice that if this Chair doesn't get exactly what she wants, somebody else can chair the event next time.

I was reminded of the kids yelling at each other "If you don't do it, I won't be your friend anymore!" We try to teach the kids that they shouldn't threaten this and now a parent is doing it!

We all get caught up in our projects and work. Her overreaction indicates just how dedicated she is to this project. The President continued to talk to her and explain and look for a way to make the situation better. We all know I admire talking to stop negativity.

After the Chair left, the President wanted to know if the proper word was "threaten". Was that a threat? Yes it was! This issue is far from over and no doubt will take up some official meeting time.

As a volunteer, you don't need people threatening you. You need team players with positive attitudes. It's this type of situation that gives PTAs a bad reputation! Please take a step back before lashing out at a fellow volunteer.

Are You Like a Cartoon Character?

2008-03-05T14:27:00.007-05:00

During a conversation with a friend today, he blurted out that I was Peppermint Patty. I always thought I was Lucy. He didn't think so.

Since I always had good grades and was never an athlete, I never considered myself like good old Patricia Reinchardt. Also, I notice everything about everyone so I'm not so clueless about others, and their names (Chuck), and whether they are dogs or human, or how they are reacting to me.

How am I like Peppermint Patty? I can see that people would call me "Sir". My family thinks I would be the first one kicked off Survivor because I would start telling everyone the best way to do things (but they say "boss everyone around on how to build the shelter"). For Pete's sake, I'm just a mom in their lives, and that's my job. Friends do seem to follow me around. I definitely had a Marcie in my life from time to time. Also I enter a situation like "Chuck's" baseball team and do immediately work to improve it by being pitcher. As we know, I was a tomboy and was friends with all the guys. Actually dating is an area where I was completely clueless like Peppermint Patty. At least one really cool guy apparently tried to get my attention for a long time. I didn't notice until he took drastic and direct action.

How well do you know yourself? Are you like a cartoon character? My friend is not like any of the Peanut characters. He's not like any character I have ever known. What about you?

Image from www.snoopy.com

Perhaps It's the Little Proactive Actions

2008-03-03T20:10:00.006-05:00

At a Christmas party last year, I was talking to someone I had just met in the kitchen. He had lived in our City his whole life and worked for the same company for over 20 years. Hearing first hand accounts of the olden days is something I enjoy immensely.

The hostess came in the kitchen and warned, "Oh, be careful talking to her. It will all seem good and you will be happy and she'll talk you into doing something and you won't even know it." He won't even know it? Apparently when I talk to people we share ideas and you leave excited to take some action. I will have tricked you into doing something you think you want to do.

(Now I'll confess, I had just suggested that he and his wife attend an event I was planning. She was right.)

For over two months I have been thinking about this comment and how I interact with people. I don't think I am pushy, but I get excited talking to people. I love talking to folks and finding common ground or new perspectives. I'm not judgemental and actually seek out different opinions. My goal is to always understand where someone is coming from and why they are acting or speaking as they do. I accept people for who they are.

So what does this mean in daily life? Do I inspire people to do things for the common good? The world is full of books and theories about how people should interact, how we can engage them, and what it will take. What does it take?

My experience always results in the same answer - personal contact. Reaching out to someone and talking works. In the conversation you can find agreement and a course of action.

Take for example the day I voted. I knew the person in front of me but had not seen her in almost five years. We recognized each other but didn't remember names. Of course we did not admit we didn't remember names but we didn't.

She and her husband were making comments about the line to vote which wasn't that long but usually there is no line at our voting place. There was some griping. I had to break up my sons who were arguing while we waited on this line I didn't expect.

I could have just thought, "How terrible she is complaining." but I didn't. I asked where her kids were. They're in private school so they had school that day. I explained that they really needed Election Judges to work the polls. They were short on volunteers. This is why there is a line and for the general election it will be longer. I always want to be a judge but can't because I have no one to watch my kids who go to public school. They don't have school on election days because we use the buildings to vote.

She said she could be a judge because she realized her kids would be in school for the next election. She laughed and it was so cool to see someone think about being part of the solution.

Personal contact is the way to motivate people to improve a situation. Judging people and complaining about them will not help. Although I have been worried about the impression I make on others, I don't believe I'm wrong to help people see a different way and challenge their perspectives as I try not to bneg.

Am I the Kind of Person Who Can Do This?

2008-02-29T14:16:00.005-05:00

If you had asked me last week if I could survive three additional boys living with us, I would have said no. I'm not that kind of person. Deep down in my heart, I know for sure I am not that kind of person. If I was, I would have had more kids!

I tried to say I couldn't take care of these kids for five days/six nights. All my friends knew I didn't have the strength. I said I couldn't do it but the mom called in desperation with no other options. She has another dream of this next best position and the mandatory trip required to be successful. I felt like I had no option and agreed.

On Tuesday, the day of arrival, I finally went to a yoga class. My goal was inner strength to center me for this ordeal. What I truly forgot about was the physical pain a new class brings. I didn't know the class would be an hour and a half. The owner is a friend and I always meant to help out her business by taking some classes. Yoga at home when I feel like it is more my style. I'm not a "joiner" when it comes to exercise because I hate to exercise.

By Wednesday I was popping pain killers all day but I had inner strength. As a matter of fact, I completely surprised myself with my positive attitude and ability to handle it all - different drop offs, a preschooler again, some crying, no backpacks, nonstop requests, no socks or underwear, no long sleeve shirts in winter, no phone calls - everything. I was on a dedicated high and could handle anything.

Last night my head was killing me. I never sleep but I slept for eight hours and was still drained this morning. Some one's eye was just hurt playing and they are yelling. Only two more days to go, but it is the weekend and there is no school.

Someone commented that I must be really good friends with her. As friends go, I would say that I am not. I just feel that if life had dealt me her hand, I would want someone to be there for me. I always admire how she never gives up. I've always been sure I could not be a single mom but really you need to take it one day at a time and hope for the best.

What Happens When Your Kids Aren't Friends?

2008-02-20T13:56:00.003-05:00

When I was a kid, I remember my mother wanting to take me to visit a friend of hers for coffee in the afternoon. The friend had a son, Freddie, who was exactly the same age as me. I didn't want to go. He wasn't my friend. She showed me a picture of the two of us sitting together before we were even one year olds. The idea being that we have known each other forever and wouldn't it just be great to see him again. Of course, I went. You really have no choice as a kid.

Now that I have two kids, I realize the same situations occur. I drag the kids to be with families and the kids really aren't their friends but they make do. Luckily, we have Nintendo.

This past week I realized that my son wasn't invited to another boy's party. The mom and I are friends and I thought the boys were too, but apparently not. That's okay. When I asked my son who should be invited to his party, he named 14 kids but not her son. In the past they were, but now they are not.

Every year I make my kids invite everyone to their parties, even if the festivities are in my house. That's how you get 18 kids in the living room. The thought of leaving someone out or excluding one of my friend's kids is unacceptable to me. In my mind, everybody has to be included. I would never want there to be "hard" feelings. Friendship is more important than anything else.

Lately, I'm beginning to feel like I'm the only one that thinks this way. Other people seem to exclude friends without a care. She's not really a part of this. Her son is not really friends with my son.

All this makes me feel hardened. I'm thinking I need to exclude people in order to be like everyone else. Friendship doesn't need to be a priority. Has everyone else given up like me? Does everyone else just not have the ability to think of other's feelings?

I know a mom who used to make her first son sacrifice what he wanted for the good of the others. With her second son, she decided to do what was best for him and not others. I agreed with her decision at the time and I realize I may have come to the same conclusion. It's sad to look out for yourself and not others.

Tustle at the Voting Machine

2008-02-12T16:32:00.004-05:00

Today I went to vote in the presidential primary with my two sons in tow. One wanted the woman and the other one wanted the black man. I was undecided, which is highly unusual for me. I picked one yesterday, then stood in the parking lot and couldn’t decide.

I’ve been talking to two friends who were both undecided too. They were not enthusiastic about either candidate. One is a gay man and the other a Jewish woman. I’m a Christian woman for the record. Why were people turning out in record numbers? We weren’t inspired.

As I was voting I couldn’t vote for the candidate I had decided upon. I flipped. One son was happy and the other screamed loudly, “You’re voting wrong! Can I vote? You’re voting wrong, noooo!” He almost seemed like he was going to push me out of the way and take over.

It was music to my ears, and a bit embarrassing. He felt strongly about a candidate. He had been having 5th grade discussions at school. Parents had been encouraged to explain their thoughts on the Presidential election. He’s a cub scout. I put great emphasis on participating in public life. Always take them to vote with me and they always get stickers.

HE WANTS TO VOTE!

I’m hoping, I really am hoping that I’m raising them right. I want them to have opinions, feel free to express them, and vote. His frustration with me was terrific. Just six more years!

Power Trip at the Grocery Store

2008-02-11T13:13:00.001-05:00

Today it happened again. I bag my own groceries at the supermarket and the person in front of me stood in my way. This happens quite frequently but lately it's every time.

This older woman has all her bags in the cart and stands blocking the checkout aisle where I need to put my groceries in the bag. Even after the groceries have come down the belt the woman just stood there blocking me. I'm forced to have the check out person hand me the items, so I can put them in the bag.

I would chalk this one up to this one person just not realizing it, but it is every type and age of woman and it is every week. Why can't they move down to the end of the aisle and fuss with their wallet like I do? I don't think it is any more of a risk to take a few steps to put away your credit card. They all realize what is going on. They know they are inconveniencing me. I would move out of someone's way.

This is the ultimate power trip. It happens when people are driving too. They have that space, even if just for an extremely small amount of time, and they are not giving it up. I drive around blocks rather than block traffic. Some people's self importance is unbelievable. Why aren't people more considerate of others? Can't we put ourselves in other's shoes?

Numbers Stacked Against the Double Four Happiness

2008-01-31T21:36:00.001-05:00

Last week I turned 44 years old. My good friend, Amy, a statistician, decided that she would mathematically prove that being 44 was happy because somehow it all came down to the number 1. Then she proved 2008 was also a happy number 1.

Boy oh boy, a happy age in a happy year! Things were looking up.

Then she sadly had to admit to the entire email list that she had made a mathematical error. All my friends then knew I was in for an unhappy year because both were 2's instead, and 2 is apparently a very, very bad number.

BUT, two is my lucky number! When I was a little kid I won a prize at the Sportsman show in the Catskills, NY with the number 2! The first time I had ever won anything. It was immediately my lucky number. Several years later at a carnival I had the overwhelming feeling that the number 2 was going to win on the spin wheel. I ran with all my might across the fairgrounds and threw my quarter on the board landing squarely in the number 2 space. Sure enough, the wheel spun and I won a big stuffed animal. I know 2 is lucky for me and I know when it is lucky for me.

I put the whole thing out of my mind. Then my friend, Trish, emails me that she just heard on the radio that people are the most unhappy when they are 44. After 44 is over, then they are fine again. Contrary to this report she said I seemed really happy lately. There must be something wrong with me.

Has everyone gone insane? I tried to google "radio unhappy 44" but couldn't find a written report. Is EVERYONE determined to convince me that I am going to be unhappy this year. I refuse. I hate when anyone tells me what to do.

But finally she sent me the link: http://abcnews.go.com/Health/Depression/story?id=4208216&page=1 I always thought it was in your 50's but apparently my recent observations of everyone in their 40's going off the deep end is correct. They surveyed 2 million people to discover that the midlife crisis occurs in your 40's and people are at their most depressed when 44 years old.

I don't like the number 3. I'm glad to be the Double Four. I've even got this great "Double Four" nickname for this year. I'm going to have an even better year than usual just to prove everyone wrong. Then maybe I'll be depressed.

Handing Out Fliers for Help

2007-10-28T13:17:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I spent three hours at an upscale, expensive organic store. I was not shopping, I was handing out fliers and collecting canned food for our City's Holiday Drive. My family handed fliers out to just about every person who entered the store. We added a little comment, "There's a box in cafe for a canned food donation if you can help today." Simple enough.

Just grab one extra can of food while you are in the store and drop it in the big box on the way out. If everyone entering the store participated, we really would have been well on our way to feeding the 725 families who can't afford Thanksgiving dinner.

During the last hour I sat at the box and we didn't get any donations. Now, I'm willing to admit that the City did not do the best job in laying out the flier, but the store manager was also making announcements. Some people might have felt that it was a gimmick by the store to sell more canned goods. This might be true, but we will collect food for these families and it needs to be purchased somewhere. All this said, it really was a pitiful amount of donations. I watched the people leaving with their expensive orders on their credit cards and really couldn't believe how few helped.

I'm involved with another food collection each year through the Boy Scouts. Usually I blame the lack of people participating with Food for Scouting on people not remembering to purchase the food, or forgetting to put the bag of food out, or not understanding what to do with the bag when they receive it.

After watching family after family walk past my box without a single can being donated, I've changed my mind about people and their altruistic tendencies. This setup was too convenient, too easy, right at their fingertips and they still didn't reach for an extra can. They didn't think they needed to help. They weren't moved to think of others. They just didn't seem to care.

I haven't given up, because a few people even bought store cards so we can buy turkeys and the people who did donate were so happy to help and felt so good. People who cared really cared. I feel sad for all the rest.

That's Where I Get It From?

2007-10-26T11:28:00.001-04:00

My mom just left after a few days visiting. Whenever anyone says that their mother or mother-in-law is visiting, I always go into high observation mode to determine if it is a good thing or not. I'm always excited no matter who is visiting and dream of owning a bed and breakfast some day, but visits from family members always mean that some extra baggage may follow. Sometimes I fear the baggage and I wonder if others feel the same.

As the moment of my mother's arrival came closer, I found myself feeling more and more like the bratty, negative teenager I once was. Now, don't get me wrong, I never actually had the opportunity to be a bratty, negative teenager which is probably why I'm still one. When I should have been revolting against the 'rents they were too busy running out the door every night in a one upmanship of activity leading to their very hate-filled divorce. There was nobody in the house to act out against, just my brother and I doing our homework and watching t.v. every night.

So, mom's coming to visit, we have nothing in common, and I'm feeling like a brat. For years, I have firmly believed that I am nothing like my mom. My husband once asked how I turned out the way I did since I was so very different from my mom and grandmother. I always say that I'm just like my dad. He was a "can do" guy who would organize businesses to protest new township rules and work with troubled youths.

Imagine my surprise when I took my mom to hear my friend's band and she really enjoyed the rock music. She was tapping her foot, and had a great time. When the band finished she wanted to stay for the next band. There was no next band, but boy 'o boy is that exactly how I am. I always want them to keep bringing the bands on and I'll stay all night into the next morning without ever growing tired. My mom always either had Elvis or country music playing on the radio. I would sing along and dream of being a star. I can't remember my dad ever listening to music.

I pride myself on being able to pull back and analyze myself completely so this was astounding to me. My love of bands is one of my most defining characteristics and it comes from my mom. But that's not all.

While mom was here, she was with me everywhere I went. My life was happening and she was here. My friend was featured on Montel Williams. She's a friend who I help out when she needs me. The show was on domestic violence and she did an awesome job. Mom and her boyfriend, Donald, and I watched together. We also had been in the car the day before when a male friend called and we had a nice conversation and made plans which mom heard. I felt it necessary to explain that he was gay so it was okay to get together with him. Plus, I spent a great deal of time showing her pictures of my outreach efforts to families at my school where I have a wide assortment of friends.

I have a WIDE assortment of friends. Many of which need a helping hand and I'm there to give it to them. I used to HATE that my mom did this. She was friends with all these different people all the time. She still spends a great deal of time telling me how she helps this friend and that friend, and their situations, and what she does and...

Wait a minute, I get ths from her too? Honestly, I have never, ever thought of myself as being anything like my mom. We don't get along and we don't have anything in common. I can't believe it took me this long to discover these connections.

I'm thankful for the visit. I'll be spending a great deal of time thinking about the two of us and how we are not that different. Also, I'll be wondering about my sons in the future and how they might be like me.

Ignoring the Creeps

2007-10-10T00:02:00.000-04:00

Truthfully, it's been a bad couple of weeks for me as a woman in my little town. First I met an old man who was a photographer and he kept letting his camera hit me inappropriately and apologizing with that look on his face. Second, I was out to see my friends' band and this guy sat between me and the band and kept turning around and outright staring at me. Then he took the empty seat next to me and kept "accidentially" hitting me with his leg about 15 times. Oh! "by accident". Right.

In one of my nonprofit jobs, I would buy townhouses for rental to lower-income families. Just before closing on a purchase, I had to confirm that all the final punch-out items had been completed by the builder. During the course of a few years, I visited 20 construction sites, dressed nicely for my office job. Although most of the men were professional, there were some who were not, and those smiles and comments and little quips always followed. The thing about it is that you never know what you are going to encounter.

I never get angry or say anything to these men. I grew up in a real working class area where you would be severly ridiculed if you complained and did not "play along". For the most part it doesn't bother me. In a way it is a compliment that the man finds me attractive although he lacks the social graces to keep it to himself. I certainly don't welcome it. I feel that the look I give the man and returning to the business at hand in a no nonsense way, brushes the whole incident aside.

I always wonder if I should be confrontational and angry and tell these men that it is not appropriate for them to make these little comments with that look on their face. I can't imagine being a man and acting the way they do.

Downfall of the Soccer Mom

2007-09-30T18:09:00.000-04:00

My husband left all of my younger son's soccer equipment on a step for one of us to carry upstairs. Of course I didn't carry it up because it belongs in the bag by the door to the garage so that we can take it with us to practice.

As mom's do, I came down late last night to check just one thing after the lights were out. I forgot that the stuff was there and fell down half the flight of stairs. You always feel the full pain of an accident in twenty-four hours and this experience is no different. The pain is worse each minute.

I joked on Twitter that it was the "Downfall of the Soccer Mom" and then started to think about what the downfall would really be. I'm new to this jock mom stuff since my older son is not athletic in nature. I've made my mistakes. (Everyone, the socks go over the shin guards.) But I think my real downfall will be taking the game too seriously.

He's only six. Yesterday the ball hit his knee and made a goal for the opposite team. Inside I cringed. I imagined what it would be like if he did that in a few years and possibly lost the game for a very competitive team. In the future he might really take it to heart. He kept telling everyone that it hit his knee including his coach who high-fived him with gusto. It's okay now. It was funny. He redeemed himself by scoring a goal for his own team. Coach's son scored one too so we won 2-1. NO, we are not keeping score.

See, this will be my downfall, getting too carried away. Caring about the win. Yelling too loud. Being too competitive. I just hope to remember that I don't want another downfall for me, the soccer mom.

Why "Daughter"? I Don't Have a Name

2007-09-15T18:33:00.000-04:00

I cannot recall my mother ever calling me by my name. She calls me "Daughter" in a very New York accent, "Dawtah". She even writes "Dear Daughter" on all my cards. Lately, I've been wondering about it. She comes from a large family so I know it is not the way she was raised.

When I was five I was standing in my grandmother's kitchen when she and my mother said that I should learn to write my real name because I was going to school. "My real name?", I asked, "What's my real name?" Well, I went ballistic when they told me I had a different name than what they had been calling me. "HOW CAN YOU NOT TELL A PERSON THEIR OWN NAME." I didn't know my own name. The rug was pulled right out from under me.

Well, my dad wanted my official name to be formal for when I was a big businesswoman so the birth certificate read "Cynthia" but I was "Cindy". On the first day of kindergarten the teacher asked me what I wanted to be called. I looked up at my parents who turned to look down at me with obvious trepidation, and I said, "Cynthia, my name is Cynthia." I was always Cynthia throughout school and in most of my workplaces.

In high school a fellow student found out that my family called me Cindy and he couldn't believe it. Why would they call you that? You are the least likely Cindy I know. My seriousness and hard work to get a scholarship really showed. Everyone must have thought I was no nonsense hanging out with all the honor students.

My name problems only deepened as my wedding date grew near. I was a few months short of 30 and had real estate and stocks in my name. I didn't want to change my name. Truthfully though, I could not imagine having a different last name. My soon-to-be-husband was devasted. It was as if I was rejecting everything he stood for and after a few weeks I compromised. As long as I didn't have to legally use a hyphen, I would add his name on the end. As this didn't seem to appease him, I agreed to go by Cindy and his last name when we had kids.

So now no one knows my real name and I pause for a split second everytime someone calls me. Takes me a bit of time to realize they mean me. When I see it written by someone else, I think "Oh yeah, her." After ten years of not working, the name actually represents a certain frustration with not getting on with my life.

It didn't help when about a month ago, my husband made the comment that I had not taken his name. I wanted to defy him to name one person who actually knew my real name, but in a very uncharacteristic way, I kept my mouth shut. I'm beginning to really feel like I don't even want a name. The whole idea just irritates me and means absolutely nothing, which is probably why I started to use my initials.

I spoke with two friends and they said the same thing. They didn't want to change their names. They felt no affinity to their husbands' names and lately they had been thinking about their real names. Perhaps when the kids are older and you want to get on with your life, you want your real name back. It reminds you of what you once thought you could be.

Did You Just Call Me a Girl?

2007-08-25T13:45:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago, the "kindergarten dads" came over for a sampling of beverages. I didn't know either of them well, but had spoken with them during the school year.For some reason during the conversation, I mentioned that I was a tomboy. In unison they said, "No way!" "Yes!" I replied and then I started down a long, spur-of-the-moment list about how I always was a tomboy. They looked at me in silent disbelief for a long time, then one said, "Well, you bat for the other team now."

I couldn't believe it. Did he just call me a girl?For two weeks I was really bothered at being called a girl, then it started to bother me that I didn't want to be a girl. What frustrates me about being a girl anyway?

When my mother first explained what would happen when I was a women, I told her "No." Then she had to explain to me that I wasn't getting a choice. Maybe that's it, no choice. Looking back through history women definitely didn't get a choice in life for marriage, education, or job. The word "choice" is intimately wrapped up in the abortion issue too.I do place an extremely high emphasis on being able to do what I want, but I don't think it's a lack of choice.

It's more the thought of not keeping up with the guys. I just always considered myself equal with everyone. I could never let my brother do something without proving I could do it. "Oh, yeah! Well, I can drywall the basement too!" The problem is he can do everything and he's my little brother. In college I was the first woman radio station manager, when the vast majority of the d.j.s were guys. The executive board was composed of all guys, except for my roomate. Our advisor was a sociology professor who said to me, "I can't believe they let you be in charge; and I can't believe you are in complete control." I didn't know I was doing anything unusual. I was just being me.

Maybe I think you can't keep up with the guys if you're being a "girly" girl. Ask my kids what I say when I go to the mall, they'll tell you I chant "I hate the mall." If I need to buy something, I go to a store that sells it and get out as fast as I can. Newspaper articles always state that this is the way men shop. Perhaps I'm missing some shopping gene. I know I prefer doing other things instead. Things that guys like to do.

Same Story, Different Day

2007-08-19T17:37:00.000-04:00

At the pool today, I spoke with the husband of a friend. He talked about how it was really getting her down to try and enter the workforce again after being home with the kids. I told him how I had started a second blog on this subject (I participate in a community blog for our city). He said we should get together as a support group. As I stood there in the water, I realized there really was a need for all of us to talk.

Even if we find a job, most likely it will be below our capabilities. A recent interview for a position below the one I left ten years ago included anxiety by the interviewer over my computer skills. Ten to one odds my computer skills were far superior to hers and I had her job when I left, so in my mind.... ah, forget it.

Take a job below our skills to get back working? Just do something that's fun even though it doesn't pay? Hold out for the same type of job you left?

Are We All in the Same Place?

2007-08-12T01:24:00.000-04:00

I just left my friend's house and it's very late. As we sat around in the backyard, I realized all three of us women were thinking about what to do next. One had a law degree and left after both superiors quit and she didn't want their jobs, one tried to use that math masters degree but the girls came first, and I had been home with my boys for ten years. The sky was black because it was night and a storm was threatening. Did we have the same thoughts?

I spent four years getting a degree in philosophy because I thought that somehow it would all make sense, but it never has. For all time, we have tried to figure out what it all means and I'm not just referring to the challenge of raising a family and having kids. Do I think too much? Am I the only one that needs headsets and music to make it through the simplest of life's tasks?

In high school I spent a great deal of time wishing I could just be a waitress in a New Jersey diner and be done with my life choices. After all, both my parents had never finished high school and college was an extremely foreign land. I'm well past this now but I still wish it were easier.

What will really make us happy career-wise? Why do we keep asking this question and never seem to get an answer?

Feeling The Past

2007-08-07T01:35:00.000-04:00

Oh boy, there's no camp for one of the kids this week. I'm having flashbacks to three years ago when there was no school and the kid was always home with me. Immediately, I'm thinking of food to pass the time. I was 50 pounds heavier then.

It's only four days now. What's so difficult? It was seven years the last time a kid was home with me. It's sweltering here and there's not much to do. The pool is getting old for everybody.

How much money and gas am I willing to throw at this problem? I did so well a month ago. Quality time for an entire week. Love all around, but I'm empty now. I'm feeling selfish or broken or stimied. There's still a few more weeks of summer.

My son announced at dinner that I was grouchy and I apologized because I knew he was correct. What's a girl to do?