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!

It's a Bird...it's a what?!

In the car the other day, my son asked which super power I'd like.

I thought about that for a moment.

I don't think I'd like to fly as I'm afraid of heights.

I don't think I'd want to be super-strong. My phone would be ringing off the hook with 'friends' who would want me to move their pianos and sofabeds.

On the other hand, super-flexibility would be neat. I'd be very impressive in a Yoga class. And scratching that hard-to-reach spot between my shoulder blades would no longer be a problem!

But that's not the power I'd like.

I would like to read minds.

"Are you sure?" my husband asked, "Do you really want to know what people are thinking?"

"Oh, I'm pretty confident that I already know what most people are thinking," I replied. "I don't think I'd be surprised."

"Do you know who I'd be?" my daughter asked.

"Batman." I responded.

"That's right!" she sounded surprised. "How'd you know?"

I'd know that little piece of information because we had just searched all over the Mall for Batman pajamas. Found some super hero ones, but no Batman.

"Guess what I'm thinking now?" my son said.

"You're hungry. You want something to drink...not water. Soda. And you want to play video games when we get home. But not just any video games. The ones that you got from Jay on Sunday."

His jaw dropped. He whistled lowly.

"How did - wow Mom. Are you sure you're not a super hero?"

Don't be deceived though. Although I'm pretty pleased with my powers of observation and listening...I'm not always that good.

The other night I was working on about fourteen thousand different projects at once. Didn't even notice if my family was at home or not. In fact, if you'd asked me then what they were thinking...well, my mind was elsewhere. I was too wrapped up in my own stuff to pay attention.

Sadly, sometimes that kind of night can turn into a week...or longer. We can get so disconnected from each other that we almost have to start over and introduce ourselves.

"Hi. I'm Carrie. I'm the Mom and wife."

"Oh...yeah. I thought you looked familiar." my husband nodded. "I'm Steve. Husband and father." We shook hands. "Nice home we have here." I said, awkwardly trying to start a conversation.

"Have you met our dog?"

"We have a dog? When did that happen?"

Okay, so that might be a slight exaggeration, but I think you get the point.

My daughter just got her drivers permit. I think to myself, "When did she get to be this age?" Time is moving so fast! Before long she'll be on her own and everything!

Enjoy your time with your family. I realize that they can be some of the most difficult folks to deal with...on the other hand, they won't be around forever. Make the most of your moments together and listen to each other. Maybe you'll become a mind reader.

As for me, I'm now seriously considering time travel as a super power.

No thanks necessary!

The dream is always the same.

I walk into the kitchen and find Speedy (our big dog) cooking a meal next to Emeril. "Bam!" I hear Emeril say. "Bark!", replies Speedy. What they're preparing looks suspiciously like Gravy Train, but actually smells pretty good. I hear a feminine, delicate "Arf!" behind me and I turn to see Nina (our smaller dog) setting the table.

What follows next is my amazed gazing at a group of hounds and pups gorging themselves on a feast that they've helped prepare. After dinner, a few of them sit around the table and play poker. I take a picture of them. It becomes a huge seller and I become a millionaire. Then I wake up.


It's not a bad dream. But it's not reality.

My reality is as follows: I wake up and stumble blindly into the kitchen. Before I can start the coffee I scoop out some food into the dog dish and give the 'camels' some fresh water. Otherwise, it feels as if I am taking my life into my own hands as I'm surrounded by a pack of wolves!

For some reason, I seem to be the only one in our house that's certifiable....er...certified to feed and water the pets. For some reason, I have to tell the two-legged creatures living with me to do this simple thing. I think that my family believes that 'feeding the dogs' somehow falls under "Mom's Job Description". Listen to me. Just because I taught Speedy to speak doesn't mean I taught him to pour water. I say this over again and again. Speedy is the only one that answers back.

It can be very frustrating, can't it? The feeling of "I am the only one that has to do this!" Each morning I will selfishly think, "If I don't feed those dogs...no one will!" And then the ugliness occurs. I start thinking about ALL THE THINGS I DO for everyone else...and how NO ONE does anything for me!!

It's a lie. I should know better. You should too! Let's face it...we all feel that way once in a while. However, it takes some of us a longer time to stop feeling that way.

Here's something that helps: Do something for someone else without expecting a thank you.

"But Carrie!" I hear you protest, "That's EXACTLY what happens! I do things for others all the time and don't get thanked! How will that be helpful!?"

The problem isn't the lack of thanks. The problem is the expectation of thanks. What's motivating you to do things?

Sometimes I struggle with doing things for others so that they will do things for me. And that's NOT EXACTLY what we're supposed to do.

We're supposed to treat folks the way we'd like to be treated.

My friends, I encourage you to do one selfless thing this week for someone else. Here's an idea: Feed the dogs without being asked to feed them!

If you've taught them to speak, you just might get an unexpected Scooby Doo-ish "Rank Roo" in return!!

Indulge me....just don't overdo it!

Recently I've been watching a lot of television.

I know this because the other day I woke up and tried to start the coffee maker with the DVD player remote. I also used it to try and fast forward through the argument my kids were having over whose turn it was to "find the tv show listings for Mom" and whose turn it was to "move her to the other side of the couch so the cushions wear evenly".

Another more obvious clue was my poor attempt at trying to fit a 52" tv into a 42" bathroom because I didn't want to miss the season premiere of that new show with whatshername in it.

Now, before you judge me, I have to admit that some of my viewing has been very educational. I've learned how to make my own mustard from a French Chef (well, it looked like mustard. I kind of had a hard time understanding what he was calling it); I can easily identify Mammoth tusks at an archeological dig in Alaska (you know, if I'm ever there!); and I can now tuck point the basement of this old house of mine (although I believe we've already had that done. Maybe I should check with my husband.).

Some of my viewing has been entertaining. I laughed myself silly through an 80's sitcom, an Italian opera, and the weather report. That was some funny stuff right there.

On the other hand, I've also been less than entertained by a lot of the shows I've been watching. Just last week I watched thirteen movies from the 70's that starred Lindsay Wagner, forty five infomercials on weightloss, and twenty seven reality shows.

The good news, however, is that I've spent less time on the computer.

Why is it so easy to over indulge? (A phrase, by the way, I learned from one of those commercials!) I'm not sure I understand why I don't find myself wanting to make my bed over and over...yet I'm willing to sit and watch an NCIS marathon even though I've seen every episode at least twice already!

My husband has a similar problem. The man can do all kinds of mathematical functions and figurings. He measures things and counts things. Multiplies and divides. Until he gets to the grocery store and faces his own Kryptonite. A "five items for $5" sale.

He's come home with sixty seven boxes of spaghetti, three boxes of cereal that no one eats, twenty two boxes of sandwich baggies and yet still can't remember to get the milk I asked for in the first place!

"You know," I say to him, "You don't HAVE to buy five to get the sale price on one item."

"It was a good deal!" he'll respond. We ate pasta for fifty two days straight. The cereal is still sitting in the pantry. The good news there? It's all been separated into individual baggies.

My friends, I propose that this week will be different. I am going to watch less television, make my bed once a day, and send my teenagers to the grocery store.

After all, they know what kind of cereal I like!

I encourage you to consider the things that you're over indulging on in your life and how you might live with less.

Thanks for reading!

The Nature of Things

Look, I'll be honest. When it comes to nature, I love it. I enjoy being out in it...seeing it's beauty. Smelling the flowers, feeling the warm air.

I'm all for it.

But...and this is a big BUT...

the bugs need to stay outside. You know, where nature is.

That's my rule. If I find one of you critters in my house...well, I can't say for sure that you will live to see the next showing of Ants on HBO.

A couple of days ago, however, I realized that I needed to amend my rule. Add on to it. Make sure that the bugs understand exactly what I'm talking about when I say, "MY HOUSE".

Goes a little something like this:

The party of the first part (that being me) informs the party of the second part (that being bugs) that when the term 'house' or 'home' is mentioned by the party of the first part, she is, in fact, stating the entire property...inside and out. Please make a note of this. Thank you.
A couple of days ago, I noticed these flying insects (about 20 or so of them) hovering low to the ground. They reminded me of bees at first...but I couldn't get a really good look at them. They were in the area where the dogs go out to 'do their business'. I wondered if perhaps they were flies (because of the 'area' in which they were flying around)...but as I said, I couldn't get them to sit still long enough to get a good look at them. I stuck to my thought of bees (or perhaps hornets?) and was concerned that there might be a hive under our deck.

I've seen horrible pictures of these huge ol' hives in bbq grills and yes, under decks. I didn't want my deck to be the next forwarded email sensation.

In a fit of bravado, later in the day, I went outside and didn't see them. I wondered about the hive again and stomped the whole area of the deck...ready to run into the house as soon as I needed to...nothing happened.

The next day...there they were...same bat time...same bat channel. They didn't seem to be bothering the dogs and were, as I mentioned, just kinda flying around low and hovering.

I told my husband about them. After all, bugs are in his job description. I handle the laundry...he takes care of the creepy crawlies. He suggested that perhaps they were ground wasps. I googled ground wasps and found out some info on the web about them.

1) Also called 'cicada killers'. (which sounds very dramatic to me! A movie title of a grand sort! Can't you hear that 'movie guy' doing the trailer for it?)

2) Very practical insects. They help the environment and all. (Yeah, okay...but they still have stingers, right?)

3) Info on the potential nest. A small round hole in the ground. With some dirt kicked up around the area.

Hm...very interesting. While I didn't see any pictures 'exactly' like my bug...I did see enough similarities to think that perhaps this was what we had 'moving in'.

Sunday came and my daughter and I spied them after returning home from church. She stepped on two of them in 'mid-hover' and killed them. Thus supplying us with a closer look. Yeah, they kinda do look like ground wasps.

So...I told Steve that we needed to find the nest and get rid of them. I didn't want the kids or the dogs to be stung by one. Wasps don't play around when they sting. And, unlike their 'cousin' the bee...don't have the decency to die after they sting you. No...they just keep on doing it.

That's when I realized I needed the amendment, you see. After all, I make the house payments on this property. And until I see some cash on my doorstep from those 'cicada killers'...well, they need to re-locate.

Steve poured gasoline into the hole he found yesterday. Stuck a rag in there.

Now we wait and see if that did the trick.

We'll show you who's in control!!

Yep. Feeling pretty large and in charge...that's me. When you google me, you'll find "QUEEN KILLER OF THE CICADA KILLERS!!"

(well, actually it was technically Steve. And Hannah killed two...but hey! Who's writing this??)

I love feeling like I'm in control. It's powerful. It's giddy at times, isn't it? That feeling of 'nothing can stop me!' Not a hovering little wasp-y thing that helps the environment but has tragically picked a bad place to raise a family...not ANYTHING!! (Now I hear the Rocky theme playing in my head...)

Well, this morning I went for a walk up Catfishhead Road. (That's what we named the road. It's a long story...maybe for another time.) It's a little access road that runs next to our defunct railroad tracks.

Well, it was foggy this morning. And very dewy.

As I walked, I noticed in the tall grass there between the road and the railroad tracks...spider webs.

Hundreds of them! I mean, I know that there are a lot of spiders out there...but wow! I had no idea that many of them were lurking in the fields!!!

Just garden spiders. Nothing dangerous. In fact, I think that as spiders go, they're very pretty to see. I just wasn't prepared for a party that size!!

And it was about halfway down the road that I realized something.

I really have very little control over things. I mean, I may be able to kill out one gaggle (hoard, herd, family?) of wasps...but that's about it.

It's humbling. And a little scary. Isn't it?

I mean, I don't know about you, my friend...but I don't always enjoy the feeling of NOT being in control.

The good news is: I know that Someone Else has things well under control.

I find that comforting. Hope you do too!

Thanks for reading!

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!!

Right now I'm listening to a current popular tune that I think would make an excellent roller skating rink song.

I wonder if anyone else has considered this? I could mention it to my daughter, but she'd just roll her 15 year old eyes at me and mumble something about how she needs to get my application filled out for the nursing home. She hates it when I bring up 70's-80's music.

Ah well. She'll appreciate me someday, right?

I was five years old the first time I put on a pair of roller skates. It was my birthday. They were the kind that you strapped to your shoes. I remember the feeling of exhilarated terror I felt as I careened around our kitchen, leaving deep nail marks in the countertop.

I really liked skating. My family would travel to Hoopeston frequently to skate at a rink there. I loved the music, the light show, the wooden floor. I remember thinking that when I grew up, I wanted to be one of the 'skating guards'...those teenagers with their whistles and their backwards skating ability. I remember how weird it felt to take off my skates at the end of the evening. That 'lighter than air' way your foot felt. Totally weird.

In junior high, the skating rink in Paxton became the place to go on the weekend for me. I put my big ol' comb in the back pocket of my white painter pants (they were SO COOL looking under the black light!) and I would feather my hair and carefully consider the boys there. Who might be a partner for the "Couples Only" skate? The Eagles or the Bay City Rollers would come over the speakers and we would skate around and around and check out who was making out in the Corner (it was never me!) and I was always surprised when it was time to go home.

Of course, once I had my driver's license, I didn't want to go skating much. And anyway, I think the rink was closed by then, so it didn't really matter.

After I had children, they received passes for the local skating rink. I remember putting on skates again for the first time in years and reacquainting myself with the wheels. It wasn't much different from when I was five...except now the nail marks were in the wall of the rink or the shoulder of a skating guard as I desperately attempted to stay upright.

'It was easier to skate when I was younger,' I remember thinking. 'This is risky business. I could break my wrist or something!'

I think we could all find something that was 'easier' when we were younger. I guess my question to you is: How are you handling the 'risky business' in your life? In most cases, age brings wisdom and there are things that I wouldn't do now that I'm older if you paid me cash money...just because they're too dangerous. Too risky.

However, there's that other side of risk. The safe side. And that, my friends, can be crippling. It can keep you from trying new things. Or trying old things. Like roller skating.

Take my advice. Grab that big ol' comb of yours, put on that old Bay City Roller album and take a risk today! Speaking of albums, I wonder if I can get my daughter to download some disco for me! Now that's risky!!

Truth be Told...

So...last week or so I started a small group study on this book Truefaced, which is about being real with people. And at about that same time I went to youth group with my kiddos and played Balderdash, which is all about lying to people.

As The Doors said so aptly, people are strange...aren't we?

On the one hand, we want people to accept us for who we are...warts (if you've got 'em...I don't!) and all. And on the other, we're always lying about something...(for instance, not having warts.)

Oh, you disagree? You're not a liar? You tell the truth all the time?

Well, I don't. I freely admit it. I find myself lying constantly...

To my son:

"Why no, Jake. There are no onions in that casserole. Now eat!" (it was an ONION CASSEROLE!!)

To my best friend:

"Your new haircut does not make your butt look big!" (sadly, she'd have a big butt regardless!)

To the girl scout:

"I've already bought two boxes of thin mints. Sorry!" (it was actually 7 boxes. And they were the peanut butter ones that I can never remember the name of...!)

We humans lie.

And one of the first lies we tell ourselves is this: Lying will 'fix' the situation.

Lying doesn't fix anything...in the long run. It has a tendency to complicate things, actually. But it's 'easier' to lie than to be honest sometimes. Isn't it?

"Who broke this vase?" "Not me! It was an alien..."

Kids can tell whoppers of lies, can't they? And why? To avoid getting into trouble, to avoid work, to avoid conflict.

I am a girl. And since girls are typically encouraged by society to avoid conflict, we are taught to do what? Lie.

We girls are taught to be 'kind' to people, aren't we? So we lie and say things to others in order 'to be nice'.

"That shirt looks good on you." "It's not you, it's me." "Your invitation must've been lost in the mail." "No, your feet aren't big. Size 13 is the new 6."


I'm going to cut in here and present the word "Tact" to you. Now tact is what we REALLY need to be taught. Boys and girls alike. And tact isn't about lying...or telling the truth. Tact is about timing.

A definition of tact is this: a keen sense of what to say or do to avoid giving offense; skill in dealing with difficult or delicate situations.

My tactful word is "interesting".

"Mmm...this liver pate' you've made for the first time has an interesting flavor."

"Interesting" is what I use when I am not sure that the truth is wanted by the other person or when I don't want to tell the truth and hurt someone 'at that moment'.

It's not lying. It's not truth. It's...well...avoidance.

For instance...the last thing a bride needs to hear on her wedding day is that white is NOT a good color on her.

Is it going to benefit her at all on that day to tell her that? No. The fact that she looks bad in white should've been pointed out months ago.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes, conflict is a good thing to avoid. So tact comes into play.

However, tact is NOT supposed to replace truth. As I mentioned, the bride could've been told the truth earlier.

So is truth about timing, then?

Um...no.

Truth is about relationship...and we'll talk more about that later. Think about truth and lies, won't you? Right now, I have to um...do something else. This has been interesting...thanks for reading!