Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble

Yesterday I had lunch with my Mom in Champaign. We went to a 'new place' to eat, so I was looking around at the restaurant, taking in the setting.

The hostess, after seating us, went to 'work' stringing up this HUGE fake spiderweb Halloween decoration across the booths facing the entrance. She was diligently pulling on the cottony stuff as we ate. When we were almost finished, my Mom looks for a moment at the huge spider web and the gal on the ladder and Mom then looks at me and says very matter-of-factly, "She's been working really hard on that piece of crap."

I cracked up at that comment. Laughed out loud for like, 37 minutes. The waitress came over and asked if I was okay. And, for a moment, I considered going to California and plugging my own show-"BLEEP my Mom Says!".

When I finally calmed down, I agreed with her. Because you see, my family is not 'big' into Halloween decorating. We just haven't ever really gotten into it like some folks do. So I totally understood what Mom meant. It was a lot of time spent on something very 'unimportant' and 'unnecessary' in the 'grand scheme of things' (at least in Mom's eyes).

That statement got me to thinking though...about how we all have opportunities to 'work really hard on pieces of crap'. Now, granted...my piece is going to look different from yours...but I am humbled by the thought of how we use our time. About the thoughts that occupy my head...how important is it for me to nurse that grudge I've got? How much have I failed to grasp because my hands were too busy holding onto bitterness?

I realize that much like the hostess picking and pulling at that batting, I can pick and pull at the people in my life. I can stand up on my own ladder and look down at folks. I can...easily...work very hard on a piece of crap.

My friends, there's nothing wrong with Halloween decorating. There is, however, a finite amount of time in each of our lives. What can you do today to benefit those around you?

But I haven't lost my cool!

"Give me your phone!", my husband says.

"Why?" I ask.

"I've lost mine."

"Well, you're not getting mine! I don't want you losing it too!" I reply. (See, I wasn't born yesterday!)

"I want to call my phone and see if I can find it that way," he patiently explains. He dials his number. Listens to hear it ring.

Nothing.

He lets out a disgusted sigh and heads out to the garage to look there.

I know what this means, people. Because we've been through this same thing before. With other items. Wallets...keys...glasses...coffee cups...hats...spaniels...toddlers...money. Spaniels with money.

(okay, that last one was made up. I'll admit it.)

It means, quite simply, that 'm going to have to find his phone. You see, I'm much better at finding stuff. Seriously. Stick me in the mountains with a barrel of whiskey or something around my neck and I'll locate some lost skiers for you. I'm that good!

But if I honestly look at myself...well, I should tell you, my friends...that I can lose things just as easily as my husband.

In the past I've lost my place in a book because I was interrupted 452 times by children wanting to know important pieces of information. Questions like, do we have any glitter? What happens when you flush a Lego creation? Can I feed the dog peanut butter?

I've lost my place in line at the grocery store because I suddenly remembered that I needed tumeric.

I've lost my voice cheering for my favorite team.

I've lost track of time sipping coffee at the Steeple, chatting with a friend.

I've lost my temper trying to parallel park my minivan.

In fact, the one thing I DON'T seem to be able to lose is ten pounds. Go figure.

However, what I can lose the quickest is my perspective. Especially if I begin to worry. Looks a little like this:

'What if my husband can't find his phone? It's a company cell phone. He'll have to pay for it! We don't have the money for that! I'll have to get a second job and sell the dining room set on craigslist! And what else has he lost? What if he loses his job over this? Where will we live? What if we have to live in the minivan? Worse yet, what if I have to parallel park???'

See what I mean? When I worry...I get lost.

My friends, worry doesn't help. It's a poor excuse for control. You're better off if you sit down, take a deep breath, and stay in 'the now'. That's how you keep your perspective. Don't go rushing off into the future...just sit still for a moment.

Wait a second. Am I sitting on something? Hey! Guess what? I found his phone! What did I tell you? I'm good!

The plane truth about change

When I find something that I like, I tend to hang onto it.

You know, like the doorhandle when my sixteen year old drives. Or that one Valentine's Day card my husband purchased for me in 2000.

Let's face it. I'm not a huge risk taker. I am not a speed demon. I don't bungee jump.
I haven't wrestled an alligator. I don't even like taking 11 items into the Express Lane.

There was this one time, though...when I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and held desperately onto my seven year old daughter's shoulders as we slid down a snowy hill.

Well, halfway down. The incline wasn't that steep, now that I think about it.

I tend to play it safe. And I know what I like. My favorite ice cream? Vanilla. My favorite purse choice? Your basic black.

Don't get me wrong though. I'll try new things.

Just not 'risky' new things.

There was one time in my life when I did do something totally out of my comfort zone. And it changed me forever.

My Dad was working on his pilot's license and offered to take me up in an airplane.

Now there are two things you need to know: One-I'm really afraid of heights. Two-my Dad believes that a couple of tiny bicycle-like seats and a small sheet of plexiglas surrounded by a layer of what appears to be red tinfoil is 'an airplane'.

To this day I do not know what possessed me to 'get in'. But I did. I remember finally getting enough courage to look out the window and down. The cars on the road were like Matchbox cars! Meanwhile, my stomach was trying to exit my body through my left elbow. In fact, I had just enough wits about me to scribble my "Last Will and Testament" on a gum wrapper from my pocket when we landed back on the ground.

Relief doesn't even begin to describe how I felt. However, I cannot even look at a Matchbox car!

Recently, I've been dealing with a couple of different changes in my life. It hasn't been easy for me. I am a creature of comfort. I actually don't mind a bit of a rut. Predictability is okay with me.

But once again, I've made the decision to step out of a comfort zone and try something different.

Am I frightened? Yeah, I am. Not 'is that huge growling Marmaduke of a dog on his leash or not?' frightened...but I'm nervous. And I think my stomach is aiming for my right elbow this time around.

However, once in a while, you need to get out of that comfortable rut and do something daring! My friends, we can't really understand what our potential is until we stretch a little and stick our neck out.

So try something different today. Don't drive that same boring route to work. Wear your hair down instead of up. Ask that cheerleader on a date. Get some whipped cream in your Starbucks. Say hello to that neighbor you've never met. Let your daughter give you that makeover. Buy some mint chocolate chip ice cream! And get that new purse. I hear taupe is the new plaid...

I spy with my Magic Eye

I can't curl my tongue.

Can you? Lots of people can do it. I am not one of them.


One day in sixth grade, I spent about fourteen hours just trying to curl my tongue. It was totally frustrating me that this apparently simple task was not something I could succeed at doing.

"You do it like this," my friends tried to show me. To no avail.

"I CAN'T DO IT! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" I said.

It has bothered me for years. Well, until the 1990's anyway. That's when I discovered that I had a 'cooler' talent than tongue-curling.

No, it's not acid washing jeans. No, it's not dancing the Macarena.

I discovered that I can figure out Magic Eye 3D animation.

It all started one innocent morning at my job. I was on break when our computer guy came running in with a large framed poster. He set it on a table in the breakroom against the wall.

"Can you see it!?" he asked, excitedly.

"Can I see what?" I responded, sipping my soda.

"The rocketship! Can you see it?" he was rubbing his hands together and kind of bouncing up and down. I hadn't seen Mark this excited since he'd gotten a new supply of floppy disks and a color computer monitor.

"What I see is a lot of weird designs," I said. I looked at the poster more closely.


"Focus on the center," he instructed.

"Okay," I said. And I stared at the center of the poster. My break was almost up but I was afraid that if I tried to leave, Mark would freak out on me. Suddenly, there it was! A rocketship! And not only a rocketship...but a 3D rocketship! How cool was that??!!!

"Well?" he asked, anxiously.

"I see it!' I cried out. And that was when Sandra walked into the breakroom. I grabbed her arm.

"Can you see it?" I asked, just as excited now as Mark. Both of us were bouncing now. "Can you see the rocketship?"

Sandra looked at each of us like we were crazy and looked at the poster. "I don't see any ship." She glanced at us again. "What is that goofy picture supposed to be?"

"It's a rocketship," Mark said. "It's right there!" I pointed at the picture.

"I don't see it!" Sandra said. And I tried to help her. "Look at the picture like you're looking through your car windshield. Look THROUGH the picture."

"Look through the picture?" she rolled her eyes at me. "Girl, you need a longer break." and she walked out the door.

Mark left the poster there in the breakroom and at lunchtime I was back...looking at the rocketship. Several people came in to see it. And two groups began forming. Those who could 'see in 3D'...and those who could not.

It began to get a little ugly at work.

"IT'S RIGHT THERE!" I said, trying to outline the ship for someone. "RIGHT THERE! CAN'T YOU SEE IT?"

"NO! I CAN'T, CARRIE! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

I was stunned. It was so simple! How could people not see the hidden image? What was wrong with them?

And that, my friends, is what is wrong with the world. Not that people can't figure out Magic Eye posters...but that I think there's something 'wrong' with them.

We all have different talents and abilities. We all have something that we are good at...like finding rocketships...and we all fall short in other areas. Like tongue-curling.

One ability is not better than another one. One talent does not make you more 'special' than having another talent. What's important to remember is that there is SOMETHING that you are good at doing. Focus on that.

Can you see it?

Don't spend too much time trying to curl your tongue. Or find a rocketship. And don't think you're better or worse because you can or can't do those things.

The world would be a boring place without 3D images and tongue tricks, wouldn't it?

Thanks for reading!

What's in your disc player?

I think my daughter is actually excited about our vacation.

It was 'touch and go' for a while there. She wants to see the ocean. We're not doing that this year. We're going to see hills instead. Which did not please her at first.

However, the other night, she had an attitude adjustment.

It all started at dinner, when we were discussing some of our plans for the trip. At one point the topic of music came up.

"I could make a mix CD for us to listen to on the way there!" my daughter said. My hubby, (whose musical tastes are NOT the same as those of a fifteen year old girl) promptly piped up with, "I ain't listening to that stuff you listen to the whole way there!"
(He doesn't have the grammar skills of a forty two year old woman either!)

My daughter cracked up at his statement. And she determined then and there that "I ain't listening to that stuff!" would be the title of the mix CD. She's been working on it for the past 3 days now. I think she said yesterday that it would actually be a boxed set of three CD's. Vol. 1-3 of "I ain't listening to that stuff!"

I gave her some suggestions for songs that her father would listen to and it's been funny watching her select the music for our vacation.

Music has been a vital part of my life since I was eight years old or so. That's when I got the 45 record player and my Mom's collection of 45's. I hadn't heard of any of the artists before, and didn't know that there was an A side (the 'hit song') and a B side of a 45. I played the songs with the most interesting titles.

I distinctly remember coming across a song called "Chicken Necks". It was by two guys called Don and Juan. I put the needle on the record and in an instant was captivated by them. The lyrics were incredibly funny to me. "...chicken necks is all I eat!" was just one phrase in the song.

I loved it. It made me laugh. And so I played it a lot.

One day I'm in my bedroom, singing at the top of my voice with Don and Juan about their precious chicken necks, when Mom walks in.

"What are you listening to?" she asks.

"You should know," I reply. "It's your record!" She goes over to the record player and picks up the 45. "I never listened to this!" she claimed. "I listened to the song on the other side. What's Your Name. That was their hit song."

I had no idea I wasn't listening to the 'hit'!. Friends, I listened to the 'hit song'...and I must confess...Chicken Necks was WAY BETTER! The other song didn't make me laugh. And, it did NOT have a beat you could dance to...

Lately I've felt that I've been listening to the 'wrong side of the record'. I've been struggling with some big changes in my life, and not handling them as well as I'd hoped. The '45's' in my head weren't the music I needed to hear. We can get so caught up with the negative side of life that we have a hard time focusing on the positive. When I heard my husband declare, "I ain't listening to that stuff!", it made me remember that I have a choice regarding the 'voice' I listen to each day. I can listen to the 'stuff I don't want to listen to'...the negative one...or I can choose the positive B side of the 45.

My friends, choose wisely in your circumstances. You can choose to be upset with your family because you can't go to the ocean or you can turn that frown upside down by finding something to focus on that gives you joy. Like making a mix CD for your family. You can go with the crowd and listen to the boring hit song or you can dance the day away to a rousing rendition of "Chicken Necks". It's up to you.

Plant Pondering

I have several things planted in my vegetable garden. There's cucumbers, tomatoes and weeds. I've got onions, peppers and weeds. Oh, and some green beans, lettuce and weeds.

Okay, so I didn't technically plant weeds, but for crying out loud! How do they get in there?! I did not put them there! And how do they manage to grow so quickly when the rest of my garden seems to take YEARS to grow?

It's a mystery that my little Nancy Drew brain can't seem to get a clue about weeds.

While we're on the subject though, here's another thing I can't stand about them. You have got to keep pulling them or they'll take over the garden. Some weeds, I've noticed, are somewhat easy to get rid of...but others are tough! I've tried pulling some weeds that I would swear have been taking steroids and have a greater muscle mass than I do!

Weeds are sneaky as well. Some of them disguise themselves to look like a vegetable plant. I pulled one the other day that had a reddish root on it and thought I'd pulled a radish up! Conniving weeds...trying to trick us into thinking that they are 'good' for us...when they're not.

Ask any of my gardener friends and they'll tell you to get rid of those weeds when they're small. Because once they're well-rooted, you have to really work to pull them out. Sigh. Some days it's almost discouraging for me to go out to the garden because the first thing I'll notice is the weeds. Not the plants. I sigh heavily as I consider the hard work ahead of me. I'll think, "Why did I plant this stupid garden in the first place? It's WORK!" Sometimes I think that my garden is the ONLY one out there with weeds. Some days I just want to think about eating those Big Boy tomatoes with some bacon and lettuce. I don't want to think about putting on gloves and getting dirty pulling weeds. Where's the fun in that?

You know, our lives could be compared to a vegetable garden. Let me ask this: How do you handle the weeds in your life? Are there some little, niggly weeds that you find you have to routinely pull out? Are there some that look like they're beneficial plants but aren't? Maybe you've got some really tough, tall weeds in your garden that you can't seem to pull out on your own because the roots are so deep. You might want to get the help of another gardener for those. One thing is for sure: regardless of the size of our gardens, or how long we've had a garden, we all need a weed whacking system in place!

Because every garden has weeds...I'm off to my garden now. You know, maybe I'll try pushing those weeds instead of pulling them. I might get a better workout that way!!

I'm positive that you're my only hope!

My blood type is B Positive.

Or, as I like to call it...the optimistic blood type. And I'm not sure it's the one I should have, due to my personality. You see, most days I feel like, 'I'm A Negative person. But I try to B Positive.'

Yeah, some scientist out there has a really, weird sense of humor.

Recently my mother had to get some blood before she has a surgical procedure. We were talking about our blood types and we were trying to figure out, on our own, which ones were the universal donors and which ones were rare, etc. Very fascinating stuff, I know! When I got her home, I went to Wikipedia and found some information on blood types.

Because that's the kind of geek I am!

I wanted more information. I wanted to know the facts. I wanted to have more control over a situation than I felt I had. Knowledge is power, and I felt a little powerless about how to help my Mom at the moment.

After I found the answers to the questions we were looking for (and I'm not going to bore you with those here, you can find the answers on your own!), I started to surf for something to watch on her tv.

And I came across Star Wars. The first movie. The one that all of us over the age of thirty refer to as "Star Wars".

It had just begun. And I stayed there a moment, watching R2D2 and C3PO get across the laser fire-filled hallway to the other side...you know, where they meet up with the princess.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

Don't know who Obi-Wan is? Don't understand why he's Princess Leia's only hope? Then I suggest you try Wookieepedia, the Star Wars Wiki.

Because that's the kind of geek I am!

Wow...talk about pressure! Her 'only hope'. Princess Leia was trying to fix a situation, and put her hope into the one person she could think of that could help her. And if anyone could handle pressure like that, it was Obi-Wan.

So often, my friends, we will put our hope into things that really can't, in the long one, fix or control our situation. We rely on money, or jobs, or people that aren't Obi-Wan. And we end up disappointed. Disappointed when we lose that job, when the relationship ends, when we try to give blood and find out that our iron count is too low and so we can't give that day and we have to come back another day, but it's okay because at least now we know what our blood type is, right?

It's hard to be positive when you're in the midst of disappointment. When you're wanting to fix or control something that requires more than the resources you have available. Negativity can rush right in, can't it?

Don't give up. When you're down and disappointed, stay hopeful. There is One, my friends, who can handle things WAY BETTER than Obi-Wan. That's one thing I am positive about...! New hope may be just the thing you need!

Incidentally, when they came out with the newer Star Wars films, they began calling "Star Wars" something else. They began calling it "A New Hope".

I learned that from Wookieepedia.

Not just a job...but an adventure!

Babies are cute for a reason.

That's their hook. That's how they 'get' you. They use that cuteness to their advantage.

Babies are sneaky. You know why? Because they turn into teenagers...need I say more?

Yeah, okay. I'll say more. This past weekend, we just bought our daughter her first car. As we're signing the papers on it, I'm looking at her and thinking, "When did she get so old? Just yesterday, we were in KFC and she announced to the entire restaurant that she'd just 'gone potty like a big girl'. I wish I was Superman so I could turn back time because it's moving past me way too fast and...wait, how much did that salesman say registration costs? Wow! When did I get so old?"

As a mother of a driving teen, I am now aware of two things: 1) it won't be long before my daughter's out on her own. And b) she better be wearing clean underwear...in case she's in an accident.

Why can I say things like that? Because I'm the Mom...that's why!

Part of a Mom's job is to say things that seem to contradict themselves. Sit down! Sit up! Look at me when I'm talking to you! Don't look at me like that!

Motherhood is a continuous contradiction, isn't it? I can't tell you how many times I've tried to explain subtle differences to my children. Like how caterpillars and butterflies are the same but different and how sour cream and sour milk is different...but the same.

Motherhood is not an easy job. We have so much information to share and so little time to share it. Do my kids know that it's better to give than to receive? Do they know that a penny saved is a penny earned? Do they know who is in Grant's tomb and how to spell Mississippi the 'fun way'? Perhaps most importantly, do they know how to separate whites from colors in the laundry so that they don't end up with pink underwear?

I guess it doesn't really matter what color it is...so long as it's clean, right?

My friends, take a moment this week to thank your Mom for all of her hard work. And Moms, don't be too hard on yourselves. You've done the best you can with those cute babies.

Gratituesday...(or The Day I counted my threads!)

So this morning I woke up and considered my warm bed for a moment. Rubbed my feet together and found myself thinking about the way the sheets feel on them. 'Mmmm...that feels nice. I wonder what the thread count is on these sheets? Just what exactly is a 'thread count' anyways...I mean, who's got time to count threads? Apparently Egyptians do...because they're usually listed on the sheet tags. 'Sheet tags'...is that even a real phrase? Why am I even awake? Most importantly, why am I asking myself all these questions?'

That's when I decided to be quiet in my head for a moment and listen. I heard the dog snoring softly from the foot of the bed. I heard my daughter's music as she opened her bedroom door and went into the bathroom. I heard a mourning dove cooing. Trucks and cars going to work (or home) on the highway nearby.

What a lot of stuff to ponder upon in just 30 seconds or so...not big things, any of them...just small fragments...little details of my life.

Which got me to thinking about what I'm grateful for today.

Gratitude does not come easy for me. While my manners (I will thank you for giving me something!)have taught me to vocalize gratitude to people, I do not easily 'count my blessings'. So often I take things for granted, or wish for things I do not have. I think hard about my needs...my wants...others needs and their wants. I pray about these things, thinking that somehow maybe...that counts as gratitude.

But to be able to lay in my bed for half a minute and think about all the small things I would miss if they were not here...and thank God for them...was a really great (grateful!) way to start my day.

My friends, if you are having trouble finding things to be thankful for...start with something easy...something small. Something as simple as...oh...I don't know...toilet paper, maybe? I am SOOOOO thankful for toilet paper. And lilacs. And comfy beds...and thread counts.

Count your 'threads' today. :)

Strike a Pose

Once upon a time while channel surfing,
(Go on, admit it. All of the best stories begin with those words!)

Once upon a time, while I clicked my way around the television world, I came across a show I had never seen before. It was mesmerizing, full of color and exotic locations, and major fights.

No, it wasn't the UFC. Or Dora the Explorer.

It was America's Next Top Model. Three minutes in and I was hooked. You see, it's a reality show about super model wannabe's and their quest to become the Next Cover Girl Extraordinaire. Just the type of show a middle aged, rural gal like myself needs when she wants to 'get away from the mundane'.

Like most reality shows, there are challenges and eliminations. Sure, there's superficiality. And griping, whining, backstabbing and namecalling...but during the major photo shoot you get a chance to see who really takes modeling seriously.

And who's just another pretty, pretending face.

There is a part of me that has secretly wanted to be a model. And on a hot summer day when I was about seventeen, I got a taste of what that life might be like.

My youth group went to Great America near Chicago for rollercoaster fun filled with long lines and sunburned faces. Boy, it was HOT that day! At one point, just to get into some air conditioning, I ventured into a photo booth where for a sum equivalent to a college education you could have your picture put on the cover of a 'real' magazine.

I was the queen of the magazine realm at that age. I read Teen Beat and Tiger Beat and Seventeen and 16 Magazine...just to name a few. Why, I'd even peruse some of my mother's mags, even if I didn't care about recipes or the color of my current window treatments.

So I decided to have my image pasted onto the cover of Teen Beat. "COVER STAR LOOKING FOR LOVE!" read the headline. "COULD YOU BE THE ONE?"

The photographer had me do this ridiculous pose where one arm was up over my head and the other was beckoning. After what felt like several months of turning and gazing and standing still and moving quickly the final picture was taken. However, while I felt like I was trying to direct traffic rather than attempting to seek out that 'special guy', the picture turned out pretty good.

And I learned something valuable from that photo session. America's Next Top Model, while it may have some serious flaws as a form of entertainment, does get one thing right.

Modeling is HARD WORK! And actions very often speak louder than words...

Take my job as a parent. Or a daughter. Or a wife. PLEASE! (nyuk, nyuk, nyuk)

All kidding aside here, the times I've been beautifully successful in those jobs (or when I've extremely failed at them) were NOT the times that I simply talked or yelled or instructed. They were the times I MODELED good or bad behavior. The times that showed others how to do the right or wrong thing.

If my children hear me say that they should be giving and generous, but never see me actually do that for someone-it's less effective. And if I tell my husband to respect me, but don't show him what respect can look like-I'm not helpful. You see, we are the ones in front of a camera, my friends. We are the ones who wake up each day for a full photo shoot.

We are America's Next Top Model.

We just don't call ourselves that name, do we? I mean, let's face it. That's a huge responsibility. Bigger even than working for Maybelline or Gucci.

This week I encourage you to consider treating people the way that you would like to be treated. Not just thinking about doing something, or considering the consequences involved if something doesn't happen...but ACTION. Your children watch you, your employees watch you, the public watches you. Whether you believe it or not, someone is channel surfing your life every day...make sure that what they're seeing is worth a second look.

Like daughter, like mother?

My daughter has recently begun to mock my vocabulary.

A friend of mine tells me, "We mock what we do not understand."

Hm. I thought that my daughter understood me, for the most part. Perhaps the problem is that she just doesn't understand why I like using big words. Or different words. Or something besides, "IDK, wut r u doin' 2day? Txt me! C u l8r!"

Sometimes I don't understand her, but I should get an "A" for trying! I've read Japanese manga books from back cover to front cover. I've tolerated Lady GaGa blaring from the tiny, tinny speakers of her iPod earbuds. I hit 384 garage sales the summer between her first and second grade, just because she had decided that all she was going to wear was dresses. And I've made myself a willing listener to her recount Who Knows How Many dramatic moments of her life. (That, my friends, is not easy to do. Let's face it, the girl can talk so quickly and so loudly that, at some point in the conversation, only dogs can hear her.)

Me? I normally just nod my head and smile wanly.

("wanly" is exactly the kind of word I use that H. would mock!)

It's not fair. I worked so hard in those early years of her life to teach her to speak. So that we could have mind-blowing discussions and giggle over 'girl stuff'. I know I'm good at teaching speech because The Family Dog and I can have a great, earnest conversation about things like our yard's rabbit population or the current state of world economics.

But talking to my teen-aged daughter?

Rut roh, Raggy.

I can't win. Oh, I've tried to speak 'at her level'. "Waz up, G? Are you chillin' with your gnomies?"

All that got me was a withering look and a huffy sigh.

Still, you can't blame a gal for trying!

I needed some help. So I went to my own mother for advice. Unfortunately, that turned into a rousing debate of Medicare Part Z and a heated discussion over the values of fresh, frozen or canned peas.

My head was spinning and as I got ready to leave, Mom asked, "Waz up, G? Are you chillin' with your gnomies?"

I felt oddly reassured. And reminded myself of how much I love both of those amazing women in my life.

My friends, sometimes the very people we share a home with are the hardest to get to know. I encourage you to take some time today and sit down with them and listen even if you only end up smiling wanly. It'll be worth it, I promise!

Thanks for reading!

Of stolen purses and mix tapes...

To this day, I will fight against it.

I mean, it's a little easier, since I'm a mom myself...but I really have to work past something to do it.

I would rather hand my mother her purse. Just let her get whatever it is she needs out of it.

You don't go rooting around in a woman's purse. At least, that's the lesson I learned as a child.

There's a 'purse sacredness' or something. I'm now a member of that club. My kids do not go looking through my purse. They simply hand it to me.

If you are a woman like me, you probably have a similar rule at your place. As mothers, we have few 'private moments'...so I think we use our purses. Not that we're carrying anything we don't WANT you to see or anything. It's more a respect of space, I think.
I'm not sure what would happen to me if I did go looking through someone's purse, but I am sure that it would not be pleasant.

When I was about 22 years old, my purse was stolen from my car. I wasn't a mom at that time, so I didn't have EVERYTHING in it. I did however, have a few things that meant something to me stored in there. And I lost more than just those items.

I was only gone for a second. I mean, literally...one second. Okay, so it was really more like 62 seconds, but still, for some dumb reason, I thought my purse would be safe in my unlocked car. Not true that fateful day. Someone came by and simply removed the entire purse from the car. Just took the whole thing.

As I mentioned, I was 22 at the time. Which means I didn't have any real money in there. I had one credit card and a checkbook. Both of those things had to be reported and replaced. No big deal. Took a little time, that's all. And I had to replace my driver's license. That was another time annoyance. Had some lipstick and make up in there. Had to replace that as well.

It was a few days though, before I realized that the mix tape was gone. And then I got really upset.

You young people may not know what a 'mix tape' is, so I'll explain quickly. Back in the 'old days', we had Walkmans instead of ipods. And you had to insert a cassette tape into one in order for music to come out of it. A 'dinosaur' of equipment, I know.

Anyway, a friend had made me a cassette tape of music. I'd been listening to it in my car's cassette deck, and had stuck it in my purse to take it into the house to listen to later...when the purse was stolen.

So the tape was gone.

And now, twenty years later...I still miss that tape. More than the few bucks I had. More than the Cover Girl mascara. More than my checkbook.

I miss that tape.

Has someone stolen something from you? Maybe it wasn't a mix tape or a purse. Maybe it was your trust. If you've never had anything stolen, you don't understand the feeling of vulnerability. Suddenly, my new purse became an obsessive thing. I double-checked to make sure I had it with me...clutched it to my chest at times. Kept it close. Because no one was going to steal my purse again!

And what's worse, I looked at the world differently. Now that sweet little girl over there? Who's no more than four years old? She could be a purse stealer! Or that guy there...maybe he steals purses?

Losing trust is worse than losing a purse. It takes a long time to get that back. You really have to work at it, my friends. And there will be wounds that may not go away for twenty years, but keep at it. Because the tape isn't really that important. I mean, c'mon! I don't have a Walkman anymore to listen to and I've got most of the songs downloaded to my mp3 player now.

It's not the same, I agree. But it's better than it was a few years ago. People make mistakes, people get hurt, people need forgiveness. All painful...and all worth it.

Now, where is that mp3 player? Oh, in my purse. Could you hand that to me? Thanks!

Seeing red about Pinky

As a kid growing up in rural Illinois in the 70's, only three things made me really angry.

1) My sister picking out all the 'good' Barbie fashions we had available.

2) My Mom asking me to clean my room.

And the biggie. The worst thing ever. Three little words.

To Be Continued.

I remember it like it was yesterday. There I was, laying on the living room floor in front of our color console television, watching Happy Days one fine September evening in 1976. Fonzie was in a demolition derby...(how awesome was that?) and he had a girlfriend named Pinky (who was so cool! Like, everything about her was PINK!)

And just when it was getting good...at the most important part of the show...three words came on the screen...

TO BE CONTINUED.

Well, I threw a hissy fit. How dare ABC do this to me?! I have to know what happens to the Fonz! C'mon!! (My blood pressure is rising just recalling this memory.) Stupid Mallachi brothers! I could just strangle them!! How dare they!?

Now, maybe you think that's silly. Maybe you could care less about Fonzie. I don't care. The fact is: we all get angry, don't we? And...more often than we'd care to admit...we get angry about things that, in the long run, really don't matter.

Think about your anger for a second. Who does it hurt? I know that for me...my anger at a television show caused me to mouth off to my Mom (resulting in a spanking) and hide the best Barbie dresses from my sister (resulting in an unfortunate pencil poke in the leg). If I had known the address, I'd have written a letter to the producers of the show (after some kind, knowledgeable person had explained to me what exactly a 'producer' was..!).

Still, I was hurt (and not just from the spanking and the pencil poke!). It wasn't fair! What had I done to Happy Days? I'd been nothing but supportive of the show. How dare they make me wait a week? A whole...lousy...week! When you really thought about it, I was entitled to find out if Pinky was going to be okay.

Do you get angry? Do you know why? I know that for me, my inability to control things (like television networks) and my self-centered focus can feed the anger monster inside. The monster that can take a minor irritation and turn it into a big deal.

My friends, one of the best things to do when angry is check your perspective. Is this thing that you're angry about really a big deal? Or a minor irritation? Before you react, decide if "To Be Continued" is really something that requires all that energy. I mean, thanks to YouTube, I can now watch Fonzie and Pinky for hours. And never see those three little words.

Now if I could just remember where I hid those Barbie clothes!! My sister's still mad as a hornet about that! And I've got the scar to prove it!