Ok, I Get It

Hit me over the head with a hammer, I get it. Some lessons I pick up pretty quickly, it's a breeze. Other things, like the big things, not so. And once learned, I need refresher courses, or I slip back into my pre-lesson ways. Why is that? Just another question that has no apparent answer.
So if you want advice, although you may have figured this out already, take it from someone who is persistently trying to figure out if there's an easier, faster, better way.


There are no mistakes- I learned this from Kung Fu Panda. If you mess up, it's probably a direct or indirect result of some action you took (see above) trying to take the easy way out. You can never say, "I really didn't mean to do that," because what you really meant is, "I didn't think before I did that."

There are no short cuts- See above. A short cut means taking the easy way out; and not experiencing what you were meant to experience taking the full blown tour. Like taking an exit to avoid a traffic delay and getting to a dead end. Like taking steroids.

No cutting corners-The corners are the best part-that's where all the details lie-if you cut corners, then really you are not square any more, you are a circle. And we all know what happens when you start spinning inside a circle, there is no way out. This is almost like no shortcuts, but not really.

Actions speak louder than words-this has been around forever, and its true. Enough said.

The Journey is the Destination- It really is. It's all about the journey, not getting there first. If you don't slow down, you are going to miss what' s hiding out in the corners of that square. It is truly all about slowing down and living each moment the way it was meant to be.

Live on the edge-A life with no edges is a circle, and even though life is metaphorically a circle, it is also about edges. To experience all life has to offer, you must take it to the edge, without going over the edge. It's called working out, not wimping out. It's called getting to all 4 corners. It's called occasionally slipping over the edge, but working your ass off to climb back on and do it all over again.

Life is hard-taking the easy way out may seem like a good idea at first, but it brings you right back to where you started, quickly. .Like going to the gym and cutting out with 2 crunches left; or stopping your run with 30 seconds left on the clock. No pain, no gain, remember that?
Life is hard because of the lessons we have to learn. Life is hard because the consequences of our actions sometimes mean starting over again. The good news is, you always have the ability within you to make it happen if you trust in yourself.

So remember this when you are preparing to cook your Thanksgiving meal:
Nobody likes cold mashed potatoes-heat them thoroughly; nobody likes pumpkin rolls sans sugar- slow down and read ALL the ingredients before popping something into the oven; nobody likes runny whipped cream-whipping cream takes patience; but most of all, truly take the time to enjoy the table, the food, the family, the friends, and the day-no matter what happens.

For those of you who cannot be with your families....life is hard. There are no short cuts. It will all be worth it.

Give Me My Space

So the women in our family (as well as the men) have been sharing stories lately....and have found some common ground.
"The women in this family are tough, Gerry!"
"I know it."
My poor son in laws got married and thought they would have, I don't know, a housewife, maybe? Little did they know, houses do not need wives. I remember cringing hearing the gospel reading preaching "Wives, obey your husbands." Are they serious?
I used to think my daughters were stubborn and difficult..now I understand where they get it from....and it does not stop with me, nor does it stop with my mom or my grandmother. It runs all the way to the Clark family that came off the Mayflower.
It does run in the family.
We need our space.
"What does that mean, exactly?" Any man that even needs to ask that question should be beaten. The fact that he even needs to ask that question requires some serious reflection.
I need my space means "I NEED MY SPACE."
Relax, it does not mean permanently, it just means right now, this instant..go away and do not make me have to look at you.
The men think we are mean, unaffectionate, and not very nice. What it really means is we are not needy-we do not need men hovering over us to make us feel important or special or smart. We do not need men to make us feel worthy of respect, of love, of admiration.
We are not mean or unaffectionate, we are independent. It started when we were 3 years old, I think. We were encouraged to play with the boys, keep up with the boys, be tough, and shake it off. There's no crying in baseball, remember?
My grandmother was extremely tough, and her mother before her. I never knew my great grandfather, but tough women usually marry great men. If they're not great, they leave because they whimp out. You know what they say, when the going gets tough the tough get going.
We teach men how to stand on their own two feet, in essence, we teach men how to be independent, too! Then everyone is happy. It is a long process, however, and one that does not yield overnight results. The boys are learning this the slow, painful way. But they are in luck. They are in good company. Now give me my space. Please.

Seriously, One day I WILL wake up blonde

So does anyone else have these moments? Besides blonds, I mean. Or maybe it's just lack of pigment in the hair follicles that create vacuous voids somewhere deep in the brain..where focus becomes critical. Every so often it becomes very apparent that I either should have been born platinum, or, that day is coming soon. All the signs point in that direction. Just read my posts and you will see....

This week was particularly flakey. There were moments of lost notes, misplaced files, impulsive thoughts and behaviors, and well, just about everything in between..with it all coming to a....well, you know what I mean....on Friday.

I think I try to take on too much. Let me do it! I can help! The only problem is I am saying that to everybody, and I have a problem with underestimating how long it takes to get stuff done.

Monday was a lost day because I underestimated how long it would take to write and submit a grant. Tuesday was a lost day because it was a day off..and well, there was shopping. I should have been shopping for food, but I played and then shopped, but not for food. Wednesday was really like Monday, except it was Wednesday. I made the novice mistake, in my hurry, and used a cached email address that did not work to send an all staff email. No one arrived at my Technology Class in the afternoon, because nobody remembered to come, becasue my email has still not been delivered.

Thursday....only two days left in the work week...with a day jam packed with appointments and communication, followed by a workshop in the afternoon that did not go according to plan. Technology happens. That could be a blog in itself. Vista, administrative rights, xp, projectors, wireless connectivity....you get the point.

And then there was the traffic...it finally happened..an accident snarling commuter traffic over the infamous General Sullivan Bridge. Needing to get to my hair appointment an hour early, because I cannot say no, I found myself making wrong turn after wrong turn in an idiotic attempt to get across Great Bay without going over the bridge. Blonds must be impatient, too. What was I thinking? If only I had had a boat. I made it to Greenland at the originally appointed time....not a minute sooner, an hour and a half after sitting in traffic. So from there I decided to go to the mall instead of the grocery store....impulsive decision that only earned me more blond points.

So then Friday dawned, and I started my day with an adventure at Staples trying to pick up a chair I paid to have assembled. They couldn't find it. They brought me the floor model and decided to give me credit. Which they couldn't figure out how to do because I used my Staples Rewards Certificate. But I helped them....this was not a blond moment..do I earn credit for that? But then I ran out of working hours. I arrived at work to find my laptop keyboard had a mind of its own...I somehow failed to save my school board report, I forgot my lunch...but then realized I didn't forget my lunch..I just forgot I brought my lunch. And so the that is how the day started. Before I knew it, it was afternoon. I still had to get to a grocery store..procrastination is a terrible thing, and figure out how to make a spinach dip and get to my party place on time, which was early, because I said I would.

Shopping....I quickly grabbed what I needed, but had the feeling I was forgetting something. Drove to Mom's house all the while thinking..I am so unprepared..I brought nothing! I brought a pan and a spatula and a sponge in a box. How is this going to work? I pulled in the driveway and opened the passenger door. CRASH! The Barefoot Chardonnay exploded onto the driveway, still in the bag. In the house, up the stairs, to the stove, chopping the onions and green peppers, melting butter and Velveeta..ready for the main ingredient...CRAP! I forgot the spinach! Quick, think...Janetto's has frozen spinach! Back down the stairs, in the truck (I did turn off the oven before I left) to the store and back and now I know I will not be early. I am afraid to look in a mirror..because I am feeling blonder by the minute.

I finally manage to get everything made, cleaned up and packed and arrive at the party..not too early I can tell you that. As I hauled in the goods, and unpacked the party supplies, my friend asked, "Did you get plates?"
"Plates? Did I say I was getting plates? I didn't get plates? I can get plates! Janetto's has plates! I'll be back!" The ladies at Janetto's know me by now...

So that' show it went...and I'm afraid I am losing whatever brain cells I have left. I am surprised I can remember my own name or where I live. This year was supposed to be simpler..I was going to simplify my life. I'm not exactly sure how to do that....So for now,I will try to do a better job managing my time...and making lists. I just need to remember where I put the lists and when I find them, remember why they are important so I don't thow them away.

1 Year blogging Anniversary!

So remember a year ago when I returned from presenting at a national conference in Houston? I decided to start blogging..to share my stories, and fun and adventure. Sometimes the blogs have been reflective, sometimes, reminiscent, and sometimes very random. But, nonetheless, here we are a year later still blogging, for better or for worse.

This weekend? Another adventure. On tap? A trip to NJ to visit our daughter, who, apparently, because she is now engaged to be married, has decided to move to the Lone Star State come May. And I thought I would never have to go back to Houston again! The sacrifices we make for our children.... anyways, back to the adventure.

Central Park, Tavern on the Green, walking the streets of NYC in the rain...I mean, rain dripping off my nose, off my forehead. "We still have 10 blocks to go! I refuse to walk into the Tavern dripping wet!"I have never seen so many umbrellas in my life. Everybody had an umbrella..except for us, of course. We walked up Broadway past the M and M Experience Store, past MTV, past Times Square and the new red carpeted steps to nowhere , past ABC Studios, past the Fashion District...stopping under every overhang we saw. It was not going to stop raining. So we dashed across the street and hailed a cab outside The Brooklyn Diner, and off we went..dripping wet all over the leather seats. NYC cabs are nice! GPS, commercials, where's the Cash Cab when you need cash?

We arrived at our destination: Tavern on the Green in Central Park. I heard there's a zoo in Central Park- I think we found it. They collected our jackets "We do not allow coats hanging of the backs of chairs." We tipped the lady handing out paper towels in the bathroom. And then we were escorted to our seats under the most garish green crystal chandeliers, I have ever seen. Several tables were festooned with balloons...I get it, we're in the party room! Baby showers, birthday parties, tucked in between romantic couples, and elderly ladies doing lunch. Loud and crowded and hectic. This was not what I imagined. And what about all those coats and baby bags hanging over their chairs?The baby shower ended with screaming, crying children, and in came the walker brigade! Two tables set up for a 90th birthday party...elderly and deaf..more yelling. Ahhhh!

So our very expensive lunch experience came to an end and we decided to walk a bit in the park. for about 10 minutes. Until it started to pour again. "Taxi!" Why is that doorman laughing at us? He was on the inside, looking out..as we hailed another cab. back to Penn Station. Have you ever seen cattle being herded through a gate? This is how stampedes get started. Do you know what happens when crowds of people go down an escalator then STOP at the bottom instead of keeping pace with the speed of the elevator? Fortunately, disaster was averted.

Back to Westfield to shop in my favorite Houston store for some new jeans, and then back to Park St. to look at photos of what else...Houston! Ah, well, At least I know how to get to the mall.

It is the little things that count

Even when you don't know it. Even when you think you are part of the furniture, blending in nicely with the copy machine/fax/scanner. As my officemate so eloquently puts it, "we are the bastard offspring nobody wants to admit are theirs." Which is why I love being in the same room with her!

And, evidently, we are the talk of the office....who knew people actually come into the copy room so they get to hang out in the "Positive Energy Parlor"-No, I can't take credit for making that one up, either. But there you have it. We actually moved someone to tears today, because they were so happy that we actually were nice people that laughed, and talked, and had fun, but not at the expense of others. I guess I thought everyone was like that!?I can be so naive. Either the people I work with are all very good at acting, or in some small way, my presence has made a positive difference.

Happiness spreads, and kindness and good deeds are healers of a lot of bad things. You never really know what someone is going through, or has gone through, for that matter, especially if you are the new kid. My approach is simple: Be nice to everyone if you possibly can. It' s hard sometimes, but you never know what trauma or heartache they may have endured in some past life. I guess I absolutely take for granted being polite, being nice, kind, compassionate and friendly. Sometimes I feel downright bitchy...but who needs that? Usually, by the time I smile and ask, what can I do to help? Or say, "I'm sorry, that sucks," I have forgotten all about my own misery.

So there you have it. Who knew the "Positive Energy Parlor" would be a magical place where people come to bare their souls and vent and complain and swear...and hear laughter. I can't help it. Sometimes things just crack me up. So when someone says, "I haven't laughed in the longest time..." don't take it for granted. Your smiles and compassion are contagious, and they do make a difference to someone..probably every day. You just may never know it.

This is for all those weirdos they can't hide away, not even in the copy room. Keep on smilin'.

Thoughts of Helen Keller

Lately, I have the tendon to testify to it. Too many words popping off my keyboard, my keypad, texting, typing, clicking here, clicking there. What would happen if it all stopped? Would I suddenly be thrown into a world of silence? Cut off from the mainstream...friends, family?

What if you had no keyboard, or no phone even..no cell phone, that is? I think back to my first 2 days at my new job when I had no Internet access. I had no phone that synced with email, because I had no email. I had no office mate-I was alone, in a room, at a desk. And I went wild, absolutely wild!

Yet on the weekends, especially Saturday, silence is my solace. I wake up, I brew my joe, I read the newspaper..the REAL newspaper. I turn on television, and I may look for a movie to escape into while I wake up and unwind from a harried week at work. At work, I need to type, and communicate, all day long. There are emails, and schedules, and how to documents, and brochures, and budgets and grants. There are phone calls, and texts, and more emails. While all that is happening the office is a constant ebb and flow of administrative staff faxing and photocopying and shredding and sharpening. There is idle chatter and laughter; there is constant communication. I am there but I am not there...I am somewhere inside myself and with the help of my technology I am able to keep it all running smoothly, efficiently, for the most part, like a machine. But what happens when one thing stops working as it should?

All communication can break down. The efficiency with which all the parts of the machine operate is not miraculous, but it works. When something stops, you might as well pack it up and go home. How does work get done? If there is no ability to communicate electronically, there is a paralysis of the system. Just as any machine requires the system to be in fine working order, so does work. When one piece of the system stops...soon, other parts can no longer function as they should.

We have become so dependent on a system driven by bits of data traveling through pipes and tubes, a system that is central to our ability to communicate effectively..even beyond the walls of the workplace I wonder if we are losing our ability to reach out and communicate with real people, face to face? Every now and then I get this sinking feeling that perhaps this is truly where we are heading. In one sense it is insanely simple to reach out and communicate electronically with people you have not seen for months or years, even. But on the other hand, doesn't it lend a false sense of connectedness when you can send mass emails to dozens of friends, or leave electronic notes on a friend's wall? When what is really happening is you are sitting somewhere, with your machine and your keys, fingers flying and clicking, by yourself, in silence. And when you sign off or hit send or submit or save; and when you shut down or close the lid and go into hibernation, you are as you were.

There is no real communication without a face, without human interaction. There are messages, relayed. Communication requires someone to listen and someone to respond, if only with a look or a sign. How do you sign electronically? It is time to step away from the keyboard out of the darkness. It is time to go live. How do you want to communicate?

Gas Wars

I truly do not try to step into the path of controversy and oncoming traffic, like trains, but somehow that' s where I often find myself standing-about to get hit by a bus.

It all started on All Hallow's Eve....on our way to meet up with some ghosts and goblins and one stray but very cute head butting sheep. Oh, and let's not forget Spongebob. "I'll drive!" I said, because I could sense the lack of enthusiasm for the adventure. 'Do you even know where we're going?"
'Of course! I looked it up on Google Maps! Easy!" I grabbed us a joe to go, and some cheese and crackers(it was, after all, dinner time and I could sense a little crankiness seeping in) and off we headed to trick or treat.
"You'r e gonna get gas, right?"
"No, I'm good, we'll get gas along the way...I just read it's like 2.09 in Newmarket!"
I got "THE LOOK."
"You'll never make it!"
"Of course I will! Once the light goes on I have at least 10 miles..I've never had to go further than that, so...."
And so we went, through the curving winding quickly darkening streets, out to the country. Further than I thought, but no light yet.

What a blast! It was like Trick or Treat Central! Hundreds of cars lining the side of the development, where hundreds of families with babies, strollers, wagons and glow sticks wandered aimlessly from decorated house to decorated house, filling up bags of candy. The Pink Power Ranger had run out of power and was sitting comfortably in the front seat of the double barreled stroller exclaiming to everyone she was done because too much candy wasn't too good for you.

Spongebob was on autopilot. Hesitant at first, he became a master of ringing doorbells and holding out his candy bag. The sheep was revolting, screaming and thrashing wanting to do her sheepie wandering. All 25 lbs of her needing to be hauled, while trying to avoid being head-butted. "All she needs is a lollipop and she'll quiet down. "
"Give her the glow stick!"
"Nope, tried that, she ate it." Her sheepish face was smeared in sticky, gooey, purple fruit snack, her sheep fur stuck to her fingers. The scariest one, all dressed in black with a freakishly scary mask (who knew he used to be scared of masks?) figured out his mom would hold his bag, and all he had to do was walk up to houses with his bare hands...and beg politely for a treat-"He's so lazy!"

But back to the real storey....Trick or Treat ended when the scariest one declared, "I'm done!" And we all headed back to our vehicles. "Are you gonna get gas now?"
"I will..on the way home. What do you want to do for dinner?"
"It doesn't matter to me!"
And so off we went, back to civilization, looking for eats and gas. Well, I kept driving, the light came on and Mr. Cranky Pants was getting irritated. "You're not gonna stop for gas, are you?"
"I can make it. I 'll get gas in the morning, first thing."
"You'll forget."

A quick stop at Margaritas for fajitas, then home. No gas tonight.

PART 2

SO, when I was finally ready to head out the next day, I decided to drive North for gas. The light was definitely still on, but every time I went around a corner, it went out...that's a good sign! I can definitely make it 7 miles.
I must admit, I was getting just slightly uneasy, but iIthought to myself...I am not far from home IF I run out of gas, it is just a short walk to civilization....
As I approached the main drag I had to stop at a red light. I noticed the gas station across the street was somewhat busy. I was straining my neck, trying to read the sign. "Does that say 2.03? It can't possibly say 2.03 Gas is NOT 2.03 a gallon. I was having an honest to goodness out loud conversation with myself by now.

I decided that whatever the price, I would get across the street for gas. There was a slight problem. Cars, trucks and vans were starting to line up..but there was nowhere to get in line. The angle of the pumps prevented more than 2 vehicles from waiting in line. I decided to circle around and enter the first pump from the opposite side, and so as not to block traffic I pulled up behind another pickup. I turned off my vehicle to save the embarrassment of running out of gas at the pump.

I hope this guy is actually in line! It was kinda hard to tell...with the angle we were at. Suddenly, from the opposite direction comes a very large, old folks car..like giant Buick or Lincoln or something..pulling right up behind the two cars at the pump we were waiting at. You need to understand my co-waiter and I left a traffic lane..and we did not anticipate getting cut off from the other side. Oops.

You never know what will send someone over the edge...It was a guy in the truck in front of me, and he was clearly offended by the Buick. He started ranting and raving, and approached my window. "Can you believe these *&&^&&^?"
"No problem," I could really care less. "They are not gonna get away with this!" I could sense a readiness for battle. And so it began. GAS WARS.

And my little friend was going to battle over me, apparently. All I cared about was getting my gas and getting out of there alive. Which I managed, somehow to do...only after I needed to maneuver myself out of the way of a very large gasoline tanker truck who was trying to get past the Buick. The Gasoline Warrior kept up his brave battle til the bitter end, boxing out the Buick, allowing me to pull ahead of the line and fill m tank for like 33.00! By now I had elected the strategy of NO EYE CONTACT-with anyone. As quickly as I could, I filled 'er up and maneuvered my way out of Dodge...

As I circled back by the OK Corral, I had my cell phone out, ready to take a picture of the sign with the price....and as I looked I couldn't believe my eyes. In the time it took for GAS WARS, the price had risen to 2.09 a gallon. The Gas Warrior had succeeded in some kind of moral victory, as he had forced the Buick to wait until the price went up 6 cents a gallon. But still....2.09? Not a bad day's work. And definitely worth going to war over.