And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. ~Sylvia Plath

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The Old Man at the Post Office

I went to the post office today at the worst possible time.  Lunch.  I know I probably should have waited and gone later, but it was the only hour I had in my day to get there, and so I went.  When I walked in the door there were probably about 10 people in line in front of me, and within 2 minutes there was another 10 behind me.   As always when you are waiting in line somewhere their is just an air of impatience that surrounds most people.   Everyone has to be there, but no one really wants to be there, and that ends in grumpy impatient people.

Today, in line ahead of me was this little old man with a cane.  He was hobbling through the line, and grumbling to himself.  He was not wearing a wedding ring, and his coat looked expensive, but frayed at the edges. He had asked to speak to a supervisor and was waiting.  I am not really sure why that required waiting in line, but he was back in line anyways.  After another 10 minutes or so the supervisor comes out to talk to him.  I have nothing to do at this point but stand there and listen, so I do.  

Let me start off by saying that the supervisor comes out with a chip on her shoulder.  The little old man starts in that he is concerned.  That he always meets the mail man at the mailbox at 11:00, and it has been that way for years, and that all of a sudden he is not showing up until at least 2:00, sometimes as late as 5:00.  She listens for a minute to this old man and basically let loose on him.  She doesn't hear his complaint, she doesn't see his thoughts.  She sees him as this old man who has nothing better to do than come in and complain about his mail delivery.

I watched as the mans shoulders slumped down slightly as she puts him down, and tells him that they have until 5:00 to deliver the mail.  If he doesn't like that she is sorry.  He turns to walk out of the building and she rolls her eyes and storms back to the office in the back. 

How sad that he was overlooked.  How sad that she didn't recognize that this man is probably lonely.  That meeting the mailman at 11:00 might be the best part of his whole day.    It is a lesson that you never know who you are going to deal with, and if you can remember to meet each person with a little understanding and a little grace you can make someone's day.  You can make that person feel heard, or validated, or special instead of overlooked.
I was in bed this morning relaxing in the warmth of my covers and thinking about how much I didn't want to have to get up when the alarm started to go off.  Bill has to let his alarm go off about 100 times before he can actually get out of bed.  Since I am not the same way, all that means is I get to like awake for an extra 20 minutes that I could still be sleeping.  (And he wonders why sometimes I am grumpy in the morning!)

Technically speaking, I could sleep in until just before 7:00, but Bill gets up at 5:50 to get showered and out the door by 6:35.   Most days I would just lie in bed, and sometimes read to kill the time since I had already woken up anyways, but last week my friend Jenney suggested I start getting up and doing my workout in the morning instead of waiting until later in the day.   I was up already, and I it would make my day easier.  The thought of getting up early was a little daunting, but I used to get up and workout in the morning in high school and college.  Why couldn't I do it now?

The very same night I went to bed wearing shorts and a tank top, I left my socks, shoes, hair tie, and sports bra right out on the dresser.  I laid my weights out in front of the tv, and put the DVD into the xbox before I even went to bed.  I even picked a workout that was difficult, but not so difficult that I would want to stop and go back to bed.  I really had NO excuse not to get up and workout.    The alarm went off as usual, and I slid out of bed, threw in my contacts, got dressed and went down stairs. 

My body felt slow and uncoordinated.  I soon discovered that working out at 5:50 in the morning requires much more concentration to complete the moves with any sort of coordination.   But I pushed through my workout, and before I knew it I was done for the day.  I showered, and got ready to go.  I have to admit that it was so nice to have it done, and know that my day could not get busy or interupted and my workout would get pushed aside.  No one could take away that uninterrupted hour of what I call "unselfish me time"

Today is day 6 of getting up and working out in the morning.  (For those of you who are doing the math, yes I did get up Saturday and Sunday early as well.  Sunday I get up at 6:00 for work, so I didn't workout but it is my day off and I still got up.)  Only 15 more days until it is officially registered as a habit!

And today I discovered one more thing I can do at 5:50 in the morning.  Burpees!

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Bringing back old school

I don't think it surprises many people out there to learn that I, for the most part, don't swear.  I have my moments I am human, but most of the time I keep it clean.  Last night while watching the Red Wings play, after the words fellas, stop playing with fire, and butthole escaped my lips I realized that I am actually quite funny.   (I am at least funny to myself since the only one around to listen to my awesome remarks was my husband, and let's face it he wasn't listening.)

I have been known to use the words:  fellas, shenanigans, jeepers, fresh and swell on a regular basis.  There is an even longer list of words that I use occasionally that includes but is not limited to dude, a drag, sharp, bees knees, dork, and wicked..   As I sat on my couch laughing at myself it occurred to me that I use a lot of "old-timer" words, and I would like to bring back some of those words.   I get this I think from my Mom's mom, aka Nanny.  My Nanny has been known to call herself a dumb dora, tell me my outfit is sharp and refer to restaurants as the bees knees.   See!  It is in my genes to use words like that!

Here is a list of words that were used in decades past, and then my two top picks for what to bring back.

Groovy
Fellas
Sharp
Cornhole
Swell
Fresh
Bogus
Dork
Wicked
Gnarly
Dweeb
Jeepers
Shenanigans
Shucks
Daddy-o
All that and a bag of chips
Aiight
word
banging
slammin
sickatating
ghetto blaster
sock hop
aces
clam-bake
making whopee
fuddy-duddy
rug cutter
threads
bird brain
fly
hip
screwin the pooch
square
a gas
dip stick
have a cow
a drag
far out
going steady
heavy

I have chosen to bring back the following:  tomfoolery and poppycock.  I think those words fit into the categories of funny and useful.    I can use these words while parenting on a daily basis, my kids can laugh, and I can get my point across.

What "old-timer" words are you going to bring back?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Joggers thoughts.

 Running is not my thing.  I love cross training, cardio, yoga, weight training, and I love pushing my body to the limit, but I HATE running.  I feel like I need to get into running because I think I would really love it, and it is a great calorie burn.

Ok, so what is stopping me from running? 

1.  No one is with me, and I used to walk/jog with my mom so I was used to having someone to talk to. 
2.  My ipod shuffle is in need of a charge, and a redo on the song list. 
3.  I need to push myself far enough that I will actually achieve a runners high. 
4.  I need to have the confidence that I can do it.

I know it seems odd that I would be mentioning confidence, but I am getting to that part. 

Last week, I recharged and reorganized the song list for my shuffle.    I was really excited to use it, and yesterday I dusted off my outside sneakers and hit the pavement.   First, Bill and I went for a walk together it was nice to just get on the road with him and get a chance to talk.  Then after that I grabbed my ipod and went out for a run on my own.  Before you get too excited I only jogged 2 miles.   But I did it I jogged. 

I started off jogging for a few minutes and then power walking for a few.   My power walking is more like power dancing though since I have a dance jog.   You can ask my mom, she always said I was really sporty but I ran like a girl.  I am taking that as a compliment.  :)

Two songs in I start to think.  That is right, I completely miss the point of getting lost in the music and pounding my feet into the pavement.  I think.    I have a complete philosophical conversation with myself about confidence levels in myself and people around me.    I realize with a huff that although I have a lot of confidence in a lot of areas in my life this is one place where I apparently need some.  This conversation with myself only lasts one song before I realize that I need to just do this.  I gave myself a goal of two miles and I am going to do two miles. 

I start going a bit faster pumping my arms to the beat, and I am off.     Step, step, step, step.   The cold air is stinging my lungs, my eyes and my nose.   A few songs later I am home, and glancing at the clock.  22 minutes, 2 miles. 

Ok, so I didn't get a runner's high, but I didn't hate it.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Winner

I have to take a moment to share with you the sheer genius that I am.   

Today is "that day" we have all had these days, but today is mine.  I already knew before I went to bed last night that I was in for the long haul today.  It is my turn to take all the kids to the bus stop, I have work,  I have to go to the store, I have to go to Phebe's school to meet with her teacher, and then I am helping lead the girl scout meeting.  By the time I get home we will have just enough time to eat and finish homework before the kids have to head off for showers and bedtime.

I showered last night because I wanted to sleep in today, I was very excited that I did not have to get up until 7:00.  For most of you 7:00 is not sleeping in, but for me it is.  If I get to sleep until 7:00 without interruption it is going to be a good morning. 

7:00 didn't happen.  I woke up at 6:05 as soon as Bill got out of the shower this morning.  He was not being particularly loud, the fan was on, and he was even thoughtful enough to close the bathroom door all the way before he turned the light on, but despite that I was up.  For a moment, I thought I have a busy day today, I should get up and workout.  I have the time.   But that thought was fleeting, and instead I just stayed in the warm cocoon of covers.  I did spend a good 20 minutes just praying, and that was time well spent, but then I turned on the tv and watched a few minutes of The Real Housewives just because it was on, and I think that might have negated the praying.

Samantha rolled out of bed at 7:00, bounded right into my room  and we got our morning going.  We got everything done in more than enough time.  Phebe even got up right away.  I made it to the bus stop with time to spare, and I even had time to stop for a decaf coffee on the way in to the office.   I start to think that my day is looking up, but here is where I decide to make my life harder.

I spill my coffee all down the front of my white shirt.  I now have to tackle two meetings and girl scouts covered in coffee. 

Don't panic, I am thinking, there is a sink here, and even bleach, and soap.  This is something I can take care of.  I slip into the bathroom and put on a zip up hoodie I happen to have, and zip it up all the way.  (and yes, I feel naked and slutty, but I am the only one here today so I can deal with it.)  I wash all the decaf off of the shirt, bleach a few spots and towel dry it the best I can.

Back in my office, I set my shirt on the heating vent, and in about 30 minutes it is dry, and I am excited.  I am even feeling a little smug.  I tacked that problem, and I tackled it well.  I pick it up and..... it is covered in dead ants because I am a genius and I forgot that we sprayed that corner for ants last week.  Great, now I am stuck in this awesome hoodie until I can get to the store and purchase a new shirt before I go meet with Phebe's teacher.  Let's hope I get out of work on time to get a shirt.

My only consoling thought right now is that Charlie Sheen would probably still call me a winner.

Spring cleaning arrives a bit early

There is nothing better than the eminent arrival of Spring to make you want a cleaner house.  I have no idea why Spring makes me want to be cleaner.  I am already a very clean person.  My whole house is cleaned, scrubbed, dusted and disinfected every week.  But this week I am cleaning out all the closets, getting bags ready to be donated, reorganizing the toys, catching up on laundry and mending.   You name it, if I haven't had time to do it, or I lacked the motivation to do it over the winter, I am doing it now.  

I think that all of this cleanliness is also in preparation for my least favorite thing about Spring..  I love that in Spring the air warms up and that crisp, cold winter air slowly becomes warmer, more balmy.   I HATE the mud, everything in spring starts off so brown and muddy.   My kids drag it in the house, my dog drags it in the house, and I spend 2 long months cleaning the front room over and over again to get rid of the mud.  I have decided that I really need to clean out my garage so that we can set up a mud room in there this year.  I would love to have a place where my kids can hang up their snow clothes, and leave their boots before they come in the house.   I can see it now, the thought of a mud room makes me extremely happy.

This is all of course a preliminary to other things I do every spring like clean out all the kitchen cupboards and scrub the windows down inside and out, and of course wash the curtains and stuff.

I know it all sounds a little crazy, but I love it.   You know what they say, a clean home makes you happy, healthy and more productive.    Let's hope that the productiveness stays all summer long!

Thursday, March 3, 2011

A word about grieving


Grieving is a tricky thing.  Everyone has to grieve at some point in their lives, and we each grieve in our own way.  There is no one right way to grieve, and there is no circumstance, in my opinion, where grieving is not an option.   

Grieving I realize, is a very strong word, but I am using it loosely here.   Maybe you are grieving the loss of someone, maybe you are lamenting that your job is terrible, maybe you are angry that you were slighted.   I think that all those things fall under some sort of grieving.   The only other word I could use is complaining, but I don’t like that word.  Complaining is always viewed as negative and a waste of time, whereas grieving can be cathartic and even healthy.

So, why am I touching on this subject today?  I am not particularly having a bad day, I don’t have complaints about my life.  I have a beautiful, wonderful life.  (are you sensing the but here?)   BUT, I did go to a funeral last night, that was one of the saddest and most tragic funerals I have ever been to, and I had a Relay for Life meeting.  We also have had to make several hard decision in our lives lately, and for some reason I was feeling guilty about grieving.   All of those things started me thinking, and for me thinking leads to blogging.

To further explain this rant, I have to give you an example.  If a man breaks up with a woman because she is not the one, I still give him full rights to grieve.  He can be sad, and miss that woman even if breaking up with her was the right thing to do.  If a woman makes a decision to not have any babies, or another baby she still has full rights to grieve.  She can be sad that she won’t experience those things even if she knows it is the right decision for her.  If you hate your job and you need to grieve the fact that you do.  Fine, do it. 

I am not the person to condemn the griever.  In fact, I really dislike it when people do just that.  I realize that there is always someone out there that has it worse than you, and there is always someone out there that has it better than you.  I think that goes for every single person on the planet.    That does not take away your right to grieve things in your own life. 

So, why the blog?  I am giving myself, you, and everyone else out there the right to grieve.  No one gave me that power.  I just sort of took it.   But if my subconscious that is filled with some pretty awesome irish-catholic guilt has the power to take away my right to grieve I most certainly have the right to give it back.