Shake it out

It's that time of year again! The time where we all say smart, snooty sounding things like how we don't DO resolutions when it's really just a supreme lack confidence in our ability to actually KEEP doing our resolutions. Last year we made (I say we because I can't imagine you weren't influenced to at least TRY to keep the resolution I insisted we make together) the resolution to trust our guts about people and I think a lot of us did a pretty good job with that.  I remember thinking more than once at revealing moments with friends both old and new, "Well, I guess now I know all I need to know about you," because I practiced all 365 days this year trusting my gut.

And besides giving up the diet cokes AGAIN and dropping the same 15 pounds we drop together every year, what have we got?  You know I've been working on meditation this year.  I'm very distracted, but I try so that's something and I have learned a thing or two from it.  One of the whole points of meditation and mindfulness is to live in the present moment which doesn't sound that difficult, but is terribly difficult if you have a brain which responds to any shiny thought or iphone ping. Turns out, for me, the whole value of that project has to do with my constant judgement and evaluation of myself and every thought.  If you are meditating and a thought about how you can never focus comes to mind, you simply label that thought - judgement - and sweep it away so that you can return to your meditation.  Simple in theory, but not simple at all when you begin to realize how many of these thoughts you have in a just a minute of yourself and whatever situation you come across.

So that made me think, what if a person could apply that simple practice to the rest of her life? Do you realize that saying things like, "I'm not a morning person" actually creates a prediction for a lifetime of terrible mornings? You did that to yourself. If you only said, "It's morning and I am a person who has to awaken at 6:30" (or maybe something that doesn't sound so much like a robot) then you'd just be a person who gets out of bed around 6:30 and that's neither good nor bad.  Interesting that all the recovery stuff I've read says to live in reality and live it one day at a time - maybe it works because in that world every day is a new day, separate from the others and living in reality usually involves just letting things be exactly and only what they are - morning and a person. And then we try again tomorrow and the next day.

That's something as simple as mornings. What if you applied it to relationships?  If you are living exactly in the present, you're not anticipating all the ways you are likely to screw things up and you're not allowed to bring all your negative thoughts about how you have screwed up before this moment. You don't have to be who you've always been, or even who your ex said you were. How liberating to set those regrets, those limitations, down.  Tricky business, this present living stuff - stripped of judgement and anxiety, but entirely possible I think - and I really hated mornings.

For months I've tried to think of the right way to talk about this song with you and I think New Year's is about the best time there is for it.  I think that Florence Welch from Florence and the Machine could make Happy Birthday rock, but she really knocks it out of the park on "Shake it Out." This song about regret and about how tightly it holds to us (or we to it) speaks to me and I think maybe the best line I've ever heard sung is, "It's hard to dance with the Devil on your back so shake him out."  That's what I'm thinking about resolving this new year. What if you just laid it down - those things that you carry around that cause you not to dance? Those things that bring you shame or fear and keep you from laughing and from possibility?  Could you do that? Could you just look at them in the light, eulogize them on December 31, shake them out and then restart? Burn 'em, bury 'em, shout it out on your therapist's sofa - do whatever you need to do with them, but don't awaken on January 1, 2013 with their influence taking another step with you. It takes work but it's possible.

Now I'm not sure what awful messages you've practiced sending yourself for the last however many years. Maybe you stand in front of the mirror every morning and practice saying positive motivational things, but maybe you do like a lot of people and occasionally give in and listen to a running tape of old failures and regrets, an endless loop of self-fulfilling prophecies created by who knows what, but endorsed and repeatedly enforced by only you.  I'd love for December 31 to be the last day we give those labels any weight in our decisions, our relationships, our future. It really is hard to dance with the Devil on your back. Here's to shaking it out in 2013.

Cluck Cluck

So here's an interesting article which hails the pet chicken Cluck Cluck as a hero for alerting the sleeping family to a fire, but if you read the whole article, you see that their gratitude didn't extend very far since they took off out of the house and left the heroic clucker behind. Thank goodness the firefighters got to him before more smoke did. I'm betting Cluck Cluck is plotting his revenge already.

Weird news: Pet chicken fire alarm

Vultures pick at visitors’ cars in Fla. Everglades

To be added to the list of things which will cause me to lose my mind.

Vultures pick at visitors’ cars in Fla. Everglades

Genius detective

Saturday

Shopping with Kenny at Walmart. Retail environments make him woozy.

Oh what fun it is!

So here we are at the season of giving again and we are all surely noticing how miserably grumpy we all get about actually getting out into the hustle and bustle.  Let's commit in December to being the person who holds a door or lets someone else out in traffic because, let's face it, cutting someone off during that season could end up being the straw that broke the almost bat-shit crazy camel's back and none of us want that.  Gosh, if there's ever a time of year when you do see both the best and worst of people it's the holiday season, isn't it?  We usually start the season of Jesus' birth with a news story or two of a trampling at Walmart's Black Friday sales and just about the time you want to stick your head in the oven over the awfulness people do someone posts a Secret Santa video about some generous person giving money with no strings attached to another person or paying off a layaway account for a stranger.  It's a very emotional time.

Now for a long time, in between those two events, I believed the running commentary in my own head that said you've got to get those holiday cards out and they've got to be more perfect than last year's (no pressure) and you've got to make sure you've budgeted enough so that everyone in your life makes the faces you see in the Publix commercials on Christmas morning when they open presents. You've got to somehow hide the winter 10 (or 15 or 20) you've already managed to absorb by wearing either something flowy and black or distractingly sparkly at the company holiday party in hopes that your husband's colleagues will think you are not the same wife who drank too much and loudly whispered about every asshole at last year's party.  You've got to make one of those gingerbread houses - yes, because if the assault of GLITTER upon your house during the holidays isn't bad enough, let's stick it all together with the glue they call Royal Icing. Also, please decorate everything in increasingly Pinteresty ways and attend all 17 children's plays and musicals which for some reason occur all on the same day and time.  Make sure you do something thoughtful for the mailman, the yard guys, your neighbors, teachers, coaches, ministers. Did you wrap everything with poofy, hand-tied bows? Have you decorated your mantle? And posted a picture of it on Instagram?  What's wrong with you?  And for God's sake make sure while you're doing all of this that you set aside a day where you all decorate the tree together and listen to music loud enough to cover the snarky opinions regarding ornament placement that fly during those special family moments.

Oh what fun it was to experience the holidays with me!

The truth is, I didn't enjoy those moments because (and I know it's my fundamental problem), on a gut level, I resist feeling like I HAVE to do anything and that running commentary was making me the aforementioned bat-shit crazy camel. Thank God it finally occurred to me that I really don't have to any of those things.  A few years ago I started to cut back on the holiday parties and even tried just not sending a card last year.  Imagine my liberation! The world didn't crumble! Not even a tremor!  Fortunately, I'm married to a guy who's just happy when I'm happy (probably because I am pretty loud about it when I'm not happy) and stands beside me in my protest against Eggnog.  I haven't baked at all this season, but I might if I want to.  We managed to decorate the tree with only good will because I happen to LIKE that Olivia thinks all the similar ones need to be placed near each other. Symmetry issues? Bah Humbug.  If I want, I can use BOWS FROM A BAG!!! Did you hear THAT???

So in between the Black Friday Massacre and the celebration of the Baby Jesus' birth, the Barfield family will watch Elf almost every night and giggle when we answer the phone with, "Buddy the Elf. What's your favorite color?" I will feel pressured to wear nothing sparkly and I will eat any piece of fudge I damn well please.  I will respectfully decline any party in which there's a risk I might even soberly call someone a jackass and, just as legitimately, if my pajamas seem like the better option.  Everyone in our house will open some evidence that I thought of them and care for them and when Christopher laughs at Kenny and Olivia it will feel better than even the returning veteran commercials from Hallmark, Folgers and Kodak commercials COMBINED. Check the mail because a perfectly adequate holiday card of my smiling children will be arriving soon without any sort of newsletter.  I had time because I've opted not to do that Gingerbread house this year.

Here's hoping your holiday is everything YOU need it to be.

L

We don't want to miss this!

We've got to see this when it's released.  I'll buy the popcorn. You bring the tissues.

New Favorite Christmas Elf

Love this guy's Christmas spirit! 

*You're

Now I am no grammar Nazi.  If you scroll through my writing, you'll see plenty of errors and I'm not looking to correct you or to ask you to correct me.  Surely, though, we have all gotten the distinction between YOUR and YOU'RE Lecture more than once.  I wish I didn't, but I do cringe and the very many times a day I see this mistake in writing.  I saw this recently and thought it wouldn't be worth correcting, but I'm tempted.

Happy Blog-iversary!

Well this is exciting.  Today is our anniversary! Yours and mine,  I mean. Can you believe I've been writing to you for exactly one year today?  So it's a good day to look back and see what worked and what didn't and be happy for the time together.

Initially, more than one friend contacted me worried that I might expose too much and maybe embarrass myself. Little did ya'll know that embarrassment would become our favorite topic. Good news was it turned out there was plenty of that for the year.

If you'll remember, I've managed to fall more than once, get and cure a staph infection through a visit to what may have been a vet clinic, wander into at least 2 retail store altercations and set fire to one small business.  All's well that ends well, I guess.  I looked back at the stats on what you viewed most and what you didn't and here are a few apparent favorites. I'm posting the link to them - one for each month of our time together.

1. You Have To Get In Front of These Things 
2. In The End - The Obituary One
3. Spinning and spinning and spinning
4. Resolved
5. I Know How to Pick a Friend
6. In All Fairness
7. You Have To Do This With Me
8. I'm No Mother Teresa
9. In Which I learn how to spell Czechoslovakia
10. Turtle Mama
11. I Wanna Be Like the Big Girls
12. Dear Brad

After I dug around a little I realized there are some general themes.  One is my humiliating stumbling through the day. That's something you can count on here at StrangerLori.  Another is my frequent discovery that just about any damn thing can happen and then there's the recurring theme of people I admire.  I got a lot of love on the Mr. Rogers tribute (For Mr. Rogers) and on the old marathoning sheepherder (You Like What I Like).  I've mentioned my trainer (Let's Be Friends), my sister (Tis the Season, my friends in the band O/A (I'm With the Band), and frequently my sweet daughter (Have You Ever?).  

My favorite video is this one: BEST DAY EVER, but I can't decide if this is my favorite photo:  

Or this one:

  But I'm leaning towards this one:

Anyway, I've shown you just about as much as a girl can show about herself without taking her clothes off (but we do have some porn visitors according to the data so WELCOME! We don't judge here!).  It's been such a great year talking about the world and people in it and things that happen. I can't thank you enough for the time you spent reading and the encouragement I get through your comments both here and on Facebook.  I've learned so much about myself and about you.  I see what a treasure it is to have folks in your life you can have a good laugh with, people that you sincerely trust, and people who grieve your losses with you.  I believe that this blog has been one of the most liberating and fulfilling experiences in my life and I am so incredibly grateful to you for letting me be the clumsy, foot-in-mouth, open hearted, curious enough to follow trouble friend to you. Happy happy blog-iversary!

Let's see what we can get into next...
L

  

Portrait

You know she hates him.

In which I learn how to spell Czechoslovakia

I'm not sure why this thought came to mind the other day, but I was considering the Hippocratic Oath and how it says, "First, do no harm" (and then did the research and discovered that's not in the Hippocratic Oath at all, but rather in some other of Hippocrates work). There's more to it, of course, but I think that's a pretty good plan medically.  But that statement doesn't translate to your life as a whole.  You have to wonder if apathy, or contributing nothing positive by avoiding action, is just as bad as doing something harmful.  Ask the  kid who's bullied if his friends who watched but didn't participate were still people he'd consider friends. I'm betting he would find their inaction more injurious. So that brought to mind a quote I heard in a short student documentary about my new favorite hero, Sir Nicholas Winton. He says, "Don't be content in your life to just do no wrong.  Be prepared every day to try and do some good."

Here's why he gets to be the expert on the topic of good living:  Nicholas Winton was born a German Jew, but his family lived in England.  In 1938, just before WWII, the young clerk at the London Stock Exchange decided instead of going skiing for Christmas that he would go visit a friend in Prague who then asked for his help at camps that had been set up to manage the influx of Jewish refugees.  Bothered that no one had a plan for how to keep the children from certain death at the hands of Nazis, he began to arrange transport for Jewish children out of Czechoslovakia (just before Nazis invaded) and into England.  To set up both transportation and a foster family required money (50 pounds for each child which at the time was a small fortune) but he singlehandedly managed to procure this for 660+ desperate children and --HERE'S MY FAVORITE PART--he didn't speak of it again. Perhaps it was his despair over the fates of their parents, many of whom died in Auschwitz or perhaps it was despair over the last train he sent which departed the day the Nazis invaded and which included passenger cars full of children (250) who never arrived in Liverpool and were never heard from again.  In any case, his silence lasted until his wife discovered his scrapbook in the late 1980s and started contacting the foster families for whom he had addresses.  Eventually his work made the news and BBC's program called That's Life featured his work.  Trust me when I say your life will be improved if you watch this very short clip:

Sir Nicholas Winton has a statue at the Prague train station and they've done all kinds of documentaries and creative tributes to the humble man who is called Britain's Schindler.  He doesn't need or seem to really revel in all of the attention although he seemed to wonder why his clout wasn't enough to keep them from suspending his drivers license after a auto incident at age 97. He is 103 now.

The quote I mentioned earlier was his response to the question, "What's the one piece of advice you would offer today's young generation?"  I think Sir Winton's missive to just TRY to look for something good to contribute to the world each day is an appropriate response.  I think, from a man no more capable, intelligent, or fortunate than you and I, who quietly, but passionately, took care of some people around him, that it's a perfectly lovely response.

Did you get my text?

So here's one of my favorite things.  I don't receive these every day, but a good day involves a flurry of text messages from my friend Megan.  You've met her before, but here's one more picture of us this summer.

Technology is a wonderful thing if you want to keep in touch with people who live far away.  We can Skype, send pictures, text.  Megan's ability to use her iTouch means our communication doesn't have to rely on anyone else - imagine how intriguing that kind of independence feels to someone who is largely dependent on other people most of the time?

The only problem is that I can't DECODE any of them.  Here's what our text conversation looks like:

Sorry - the picture isn't clear but I can't take a screen shot because after you drop your phone in the (clean) toilet some things don't work so well any longer.

I can usually at least determine if something big is happening because the texts start REALLY early in the morning - I'm laughing when I type this knowing that Megan's mom Janie is always mortified that she will wake me.  No worries Janie, the volume no longer works on my phone either (again, due to the Toilet Incident of 2011) so we are cool.  If I don't answer, she is not discouraged.  Megan just keeps sending until she decides something else needs to be done. I try to answer as soon as I can.  When she's got a lot going on, sometimes it looks like less of a conversation and more of a delightful alphabetic explosion.

The best part is that I get to make up what she's saying so I like to imagine that she's telling me she misses me as much as I miss her and that she's wishing we were back at the beach eating ice cream sandwiches. Wouldn't it be crushing if she was really just trying to tell me she needs some space? I wouldn't expect anyone to sit and read her my texts, so I mix it up and respond with some texts about what I'm doing, pictures of where I'm going, photos or videos of things I think will make her laugh. She gets it too - when I send her a picture of my bed at night she stops texting.  I heard she laughed her head off at the picture of Kenny in an afro wig that I sent her.

I was lucky this afternoon because Megan was home and had lots of time to text. That she chooses to communicate with me at all absolutely thrills me. I was thinking that it's a good thing - to get a little electronic notification that you are on someone's mind.  So that's what I'm wishing for you today - that you hear from someone whose texts make you smile.

L

We'll show them...

http://www.buzzfeed.com/donnad/chinese-couple-play-chicken-with-government-highwa?sub=1888815_714047

Let it Be Me

So here's a great Thanksgiving occurrence.  I woke up this morning thinking about my friend Brad's family and how especially difficult the first holiday after a death is for people who experience loss.  I was also thinking about how little I can do to help really, besides feel bad too from a state away.

Brad and I had a couple of years where we didn't communicate very often. I guess we just both had busy lives, but when we reconnected we had a few conversations where he revealed some despair to me and I was so pleased that he had confided in me and so hopeful that our friendship could allow him some relief.  I sent him the Ray Lamontagne song called "Let it Be Me." I had missed our relationship so much.  I don't know that he ever even listened to it, but whatever the case, our quirky, sweet friendship was back where it belonged and it stayed that way until his death in July.

This Thanksgiving morning, after texting Brad's sister that I was thinking of her, I stumbled downstairs to start the holiday cooking.  I turned Pandora on because music helps both waking up and with cooking.  About the time she return texted me a picture of him, Pandora selected "Let it Be Me" to play.  Read whatever you want into it. It felt like a blessing to me. I'm grateful for the reminder of such a dear, gentle, funny, friend.

Lyrics and music below.

Let It Be Me

There comes a time
A time in everyone's life
When nothing seems to go their way
When nothing seems to turn out right
There may come a time 
You just can't seem to find your place
For every door you open 
Seems like you get two slammed in your face

That's when you need someone
Someone that you can call
When all your faith is gone
It feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me

Feels like you always coming up last
Pockets full of nothing
Ain't got no cash
Don't matter where you turn
You ain't got no place to stand
You reach out for something and they slap your hand

I remember all too well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own

That's when you need someone
Someone that you can call 
When all your faith is gone
It feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Let it be me

Gobble gobble...

The best kind of funny to me is watching someone crack themselves up.  Here's today's funny:

How I feel every Thanksgiving

Rule Number 1: Try not to start a fire

So here's some good news in the time of Thanksgiving.  Recently, even though I hardly view myself as employable, I got a JOB.  I KNOW.  I've been out of the workforce for quite some time but I do sometimes have extra time on my hands.  My friend Lisa who sells my little bird paintings in her shop downtown took me up on my offer as extra holiday help.  If you don't know Lisa, she owns a wonderful store called Living and Giving here in Rome and I think you'd love it.

The idea of having a little work responsibility makes me nervous I admit.  Most of you have no idea of my capacity for trouble. I'm like the grown up version of Amelia Bedelia and my nerves about new situations usually cause even worse situations.  The first couple of 4 hour shifts I worked, I was pretty proud that I didn't break anything or burn anything down.  My mom and sister even came in and I think they were proud of me. Third shift, not so much.

Living and Giving has lovely things for your home, including CANDLES, some of which are lit and some of which were in my personal space.  So of course I started a damn fire.  I swear I only looked away for a minute and the papers in front of me just whooshed into flame.  I've told you that I freeze when I panic, but at least I squeaked out FIRE and the other ladies came and extinguished it. The good news is that the fire was SMALL and the only casualty was a stapler, but unless you are looking at this from a standpoint of comedic value, it's clear that it wasn't one of my finer moments.  The other good news was that all the other present employees admitted to setting at least one fire themselves so now it's like I'm in some sort of club I guess.  Apparently, starting a fire at your new place of employment is not a for-sure way to get  let go so that's a positive too.

I'm not working again til Wednesday so if you decide you want to stop by Living and Giving, you might be safer to go by on a different day, but I'd still love to see you.

L

It's all about Me and Carl Sagan

So I'm still thinking about our car accident last weekend.   And I'm also thinking about the importance, especially during the Thanksgiving holiday, of paying close attention to these kinds of events and allowing them to have real influence on how we live regardless of whether those events are orchestrated or happenstance.

I resist the urge, especially on Facebook, and a lot more frequently that you would think, to write IN ALL CAPS these words:  IT'S REALLY NOT ALL ABOUT YOU, but then I think, maybe all we've really got is me or you and these little things we do with our little bit of time here together.  I don't know.  I guess it's just about perspective. And again, I find myself thinking that we are terribly insignificant to a billions of years old universe, but that our smallest acts somehow still have tremendous influence over our fellow human beings and their little bit of time.

Carl Sagan's birthday was a while back, but I didn't really ponder this picture and quote until afterwards.  I like it.

Where's my big red nose?

White supremacist rally "clowned" by counter protest

osted on November 10, 2012 at 5:49 PM

Updated Monday, Nov 12 at 9:10 AM

Related:

• Photos | White Supremacist Rally in uptown Charlotte
• White supremacist group plans uptown Charlotte rally

CHARLOTTE, N.C. -- Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police say no one was arrested during a loud – and very colorful – KKK rally and counter-protest in uptown Charlotte Saturday afternoon.

Members of the National Socialist Movement joined the Ku Klux Klan for an anti-immigration rally at Old City Hall on West Trade Street, but the counter-protesters outnumbered them at least five to one.

Instead of shouting, the protesters used squeaky toys, whistles, and noisemakers to drown out the amplified speeches.  Many dressed as clowns.

When the speakers talked about “White Power,” the protesters sprinkled white flour.  Another held a sign reading “Wife Power.”

They said they wanted to make a point that racism is ridiculous.

“The message from us is, you look silly,” said Lacey Williams, the youth coordinator for Charlotte’s Latin American Coalition. “We're dressed like clowns and you're the ones that look funny.”

Jeff Schoep of the National Socialist Movement, a neo-Nazi group based in Detroit, said his organization wants to be an alternative third party to the country’s two-party system.  Its platform is based on white supremacy.

Protestor Tom Strini donned his red nose and rainbow wig to take an opposing point of view.       

“Instead of meeting hate with hate, they were going to meet hate with love,” said Strini of the protestors.

“I think it’s really important to have a sense of humor,” added Williams. “What they want is for us to fight them.  They want us to hit them with hate. We can't become them.”

City council member John Autry, who represents east Charlotte’s District 5, also wore a red nose to show his support of the counter-protesters.

“We're just a great big happy melting pot,” said Autry. “I just wanted to come out here and make sure people understood that I did not support the views of the people behind up here with the microphones.”

More than 75 police officers ringed the grassy front lawn during the speeches.  Metal barricades separated the speakers from the protesters.  Police rarely needed to move from their positions.

After two hours, the Klan and neo-Nazis put down their microphone and left with a police escort.  Police followed them back to a parking garage on Fourth Street near the county courthouse, while protesters filled the street behind them.

Strini said it shows the white supremacists are actually the minority, because so many people showed up to protest.

“It just shows that more people in this country are in favor of equal and human rights than there are people who want to kick all dark-skinned people out of the country,” he said.

When all is said and done...

In which we almost all die

Boy did we have an interesting weekend.  Kenny and I watched Forrest Gump for like the 120th time and I got caught up thinking about that part at the end where Forrest is standing at Jenny's gravesite resolving whether things are destined like his Mama says or whether things just happen like Lieutenant Dan says.  He says "Maybe it's both" and I thought, well I guess maybe there's something to that.

Anyway, Olivia was at the church riding a mechanical bull until midnight so we were up late.  Inbox me for more info on that.  We couldn't sleep in because Olivia had a swim meet in Chattanooga on Saturday and if you've never been to one of those, it's such a fun thing to watch.  Kids of all sizes and abilities getting a feel for competition and kindred spirit.  She had some successes and some challenge and we got to watch a friend's first race. It was great. We left there to travel farther north so that we could see Christopher in Monteagle for dinner. Those kinds of days, where you get to do all the things you love best are just marvelous.  We sang the SpongeBob "Best Day Ever" song a few times in the dark on the 2 hour drive back home.

So I'm driving in Chattanooga and it's getting later and I pull my hand from Olivia's because it's a little curvy and traffic is more dense that I would expect and at 70+mph I felt compelled to have both hands on the wheel.  The concrete divider wall always makes me nervous, but I'm in the fast lane going fast anyway.  Neither Olivia nor Kenny saw the spare tire (WHEEL AND TIRE) careening out of nowhere towards us, but I did and I had long enough to assess that it wasn't a strip of tire from a truck and there was going to be no way to swerve and avoid it.  The Driver's Ed move "Blood On the Highway" can prepare you for a lot, friends, but dealing with heavy objects flying at you is something you can only learn first hand. Let me take a second here and make a point:  I used to label myself a "loopholer" because I was always looking for the way out of a difficult or confrontational situation, but I've learned in the last few years that some trouble you just have to hit head on and so if there's a concrete wall to my left and lots of cars to my right, you can bet this girl is just gonna take my chances and nail any son of a bitch tire that comes at me.

Because my panic mode always means I become frozen and mute, no one else was prepared for the impact.  The first jolt of metal on metal was more jarring than I could have imagined. When the car lifted into the air all I could think was don't hit the wall, don't hit the wall, don't hit the wall.  I felt like hitting it would mean spinning into other traffic and that's something that's for sure gonna end worse than it already looked like it was.  I remember Olivia and Kenny's screams, pavement, jolting. The second impact I think we all thought was a following car or the wall, but it turned out to be us landing from our vertical forward pitch on the front bumper.

I do not remember how I navigated us through the other lanes and off the exit ramp, but I remember lots of are you oks are you oks are you oks.  And despite the ensuing hyperventilating, we were somehow okay.  The truck driver who also pulled over said he'd seen it in his rearview and couldn't believe we weren't injured and that the car was somehow still drivable.  He used lots of colorful language to express his dismay at our survival. He'd hit the spare tire first and flung it with God knows how much force in our direction.  It wasn't his fault, of course, but he was kind enough to stop and confirm that we'd actually just flown for  a few seconds.

Somehow we putt-putted our way home in shock, all three holding hands the last 60 miles. It was later that all the questions came like, "What if the airbags had gone off?" I would have definitely not been able to keep it in the road. "What if I'd had only one hand on the wheel?" Swerve and hit that wall, spinning into God knows what.  "What if I hadn't had to hit a drawer that fell off a truck on 285 a few years ago and hadn't known that sometimes hitting something straight on is the least awful option?  What if that tire had been flung higher and hit the window? What if? What if? What if?"

And then there are the bigger questions that arise after a car accident like, "What if we were actually spared for some reason? What if one of us has work to do that influences the life of someone else? What if these sort of incidents are supposed to serve as wake up calls for whatever we ought to be doing?"

So we're back to Forrest Gump.  Now a lot of folks would say God spared us for some higher purpose, but I'm not sure that's a good thing to say because what do you say of the person who died in an accident 15 minutes later? That God couldn't think of any more use for his life?  That's simplistic and I think that's not what you'd mean at all so let's set that aside and look at one of my favorite ideas.  Chaos Theory posits that all things, big and small, are RELATED, like intricate spiderwebs, and that all events influence all other events, for better or for worse, which makes the human need and ability to connect those dots and understand things historically, contextually, a fascinatingly beautiful talent.  These threads answer a lot of our "what ifs" and help us impose order on a delicately connected universe, but it doesn't require that we qualify some events as "GOOD" and others as "BAD" so much as they are just things which happen and exert influence.  It's what we do with that circumstance and connection that puts us in alignment with whatever our faith is, so don't think I'm leaving any Higher Power out of the equation.  So maybe Forrest is right.  A person's life is influenced by both greatly significant and seemingly insignificant things that extend all the way through time.

By all accounts, the three of us had a much greater chance of being injured or dead than we had of walking away from Saturday night unscathed.  So I'm looking at all that unfolded, my telling Olivia that I had to drive for a while with two hands, my earlier experience with hitting flying objects head on, my airbags not deploying and I am thinking that the only possible way to feel is grateful.  I'm grateful for whatever haphazard or intentional events lined up to make sure we made it home together and safe Saturday night.  I'm terribly grateful for more time and for the reminder that more time is not guaranteed.

I took the car in for repair this morning. It's gonna be expensive because it looks like I broke just about everything under a car that you can break and still putter home.  It's a repair bill I am happy to pay.

Make lemonade

I am always envious of terribly creative people. I view personal creativity as an act of generosity - a way of contributing something unsolicited to the world, hopefully something good.  Anyway, I stumbled across this charitable effort by the marketing community in Ireland.  These creative ad and marketing folks have generated posters that reflect the frustrating comments that their clients have made to them and they are selling them as a way to raise money for a hospital.

It's the perfect lemonade making example of turning something irritating and negative into something positive and even profitable.  Here's the link, but I'll share a few of my favorites below:
http://sharpsuits.net/Home

Anything Can Happen!!!

Oh my goodness, I am so unbelievably excited about the ingenuity and intelligence of these young African girls who have invented a generator that runs on PEE. I KNOW!!  They manage to convert one liter of urine into 6 hours of electricity!

The link below is to the full article.

http://io9.com/5958887/oh-this-just-some-teenage-girls-from-africa-who-invented-a-urine+powered-generator

Good policy

Love this Cleveland judge

Saw this on the news today and wish more judges valued public humiliation as punishment. Maybe I will start making signs for people who do things I don't like.

Woman who drove on sidewalk must wear 'idiot' sign

The Associated Press

Published: Tuesday, Nov. 6, 2012 - 3:53 am

CLEVELAND -- A woman caught on camera driving on a sidewalk to avoid a Cleveland school bus that was unloading children will have to stand at an intersection wearing a sign warning about idiots.

Court records show a Cleveland Municipal Court judge on Monday ordered 32-year-old Shena Hardin to stand at an intersection for two days next week. She will have to wear a sign saying: "Only an idiot drives on the sidewalk to avoid a school bus."

The judge ordered her to wear the sign from 7:45 a.m. to 8:45 a.m. both days.

Hardin's license was suspended for 30 days and she was ordered to pay $250 in court costs.

Messages seeking comment were left at a telephone listing for Hardin and at her attorney's office.

Read more here: http://www.sacbee.com/2012/11/06/4964019/woman-who-drove-on-sidewalk-must.html#storylink=cpy

The Happy Homemaker

Recently I had to sign some tax forms and below my name it said, "Homemaker" so I giggled like I do every year because that sounds like such a 1950's term. Since I giggle every time, Kenny offers to have it changed every time and I re-explain that homemaker is exactly what I am and I don't mind at all. My laugh is over the outdated term.   I have a lot of friends who are also considered "stay at homes" or "housewives" and we all manage to juggle the many jobs that being that involves.

I saw an article - probably you saw it too - that in a tongue-in-cheek way tried to explain that we ought to be making over 100k a year for the services we provide as drivers, short order cooks, housekeepers, laundresses, nurses, tutors.  They're not wrong - it's a ton of work to do in a year.  As a stay at home, you get to be the catch-all person for all the stuff nobody else has time for as well, so I think the experts probably added in a category for all the unspeakable parts of parenthood called "janitorial staff".  OH, and they left out therapist, spiritual advisor, and bodyguard, nutritionist and trainer.

Because Olivia and Christopher are not little I can say that my day is no longer consumed with some of these roles really and I'm happy for that.  The moms I see who are trying to juggle those responsibilities with very young children look about as crazy eyed and miserable as you would think a person who is wiping snot with their own sleeve in a tan minivan with "Itsy Bitsy Spider" playing on repeat can look.

The most mind boggling part about being a stay at home is that you're supposed to do all these truly awful jobs AND somehow promote a picture of complete gratitude that you GET to stay home and do it.  Let that sink in for a second.  I know LOTS of women who actually feel guilty for not being able to say that they fully enjoy staying home and dealing with all the drama and mess of raising children.  WE ACTUALLY FEEL GUILTY FOR NOT ENJOYING WIPING ASSES AND LISTENING TO WHINING ALL DAY LONG.  And when I say all day I mean 24 hours because it's not like you clock out at 5pm.   God no, you've got to make sure you've prepared a meal consistent with the ever changing dietary guidelines Dr. Oz shouts at you in passing because you've been home all day and surely had enough time to roast your completely organic, free range chicken.  Did I mention you need to shave your legs? Because you are also an escort for your spouse and sweatpants don't cut it, sister.  All the parenting magazines say that your marriage needs to be top priority or your spawn will make you pay FOREVER with their eventual demise as strippers, drug dealers and thieves. And there are plenty of talk shows for them to go on and blame you. So there's just a little pressure. And let's don't forget all the weird dynamics that it brings up to be financially dependent.

To be honest, I've not seen many happy looking bus drivers and short order cooks.  I know for a fact that I've never seen a happy laundress.  Trying to drag your children through whatever method of math is current and charter the trail for them of new vegetables and quinoa ALL WITH PEARLS AND A JUNE CLEAVER SMILE ON YOUR FACE because you're so damn lucky to have this opportunity is really just a ridiculous expectation.  This is how you crack, girls.

Perhaps I sound resentful. I assure you, that's old news.  I've moved through that phase to a less hectic life, but I want to talk about it anyway.  There are lot of things to enjoy about being a stay at home mom. As the first on the scene parent, you are also privy to many great moments that other folks don't get to witness. The investment in being a primary caregiver is a worthy one and I think it pays off in precious, precious ways.  I'm just asking you to acknowledge that not all of the process is an envious one. Or even very much fun.  I am terribly, unbelievably grateful for the time I had staying home with my child.  I'm grateful for the latitude I am afforded in choosing what I'd like to do with my day now that Olivia is occupied during the school day, but boy do I remember thinking that my college degree was wasted since there's absolutely no preparing for the job of Chief Vomit Cleaner (best advice: invest in a ShopVac).

If you are a young parent who stays home, I am going to break a rule and just give you instruction on this one:  Quit feeling guilty if you don't love this part.  If you were hired to do a job cleaning up crap, people would expect you to have days when you didn't like it very much and they'd all listen and smile over a martini and let you be grumpy or critical or not very grateful. You can do that with this job too. You should absolutely have days when you ask for help or call in sick or order take-out dinners and you can have friends who hate their horrible screaming boss monsters too today and don't think less of you for it.  REST up for the job and whatever happens, you must try to make a little room for yourself like you would if you DID clock out at 5. Before you know it you will need to start getting your resume together for when your little employer tells you that you are now a frumpy embarrassment in your mom jeans and your services are no longer required.

talk soon.

Aspirations

You can be anything you wanna be, Ludwig.

Old issues

Apparently my thighs have always been a problem area. Thanks for the pic Mom!

Oh Sandy

Another kind of Sandy. Maybe just as bad. Imagine just going in Walmart for some chips and sour cream and being told your bikini top was not enough coverage.  I like that the reporter kept a straight face. Click the link to go to the whole story.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/lady-kicked-out-of-walmart-for-wearing-a-string-bi

Zebras are jerks

extremely-rare-spotted-zebra-lives-on-his-own-and-hates-your-guts/

I love how they describe this zebra. Isolated. Angry. Always pissed off.

Well I suppose he should be. He's not like the other zebras and it turns out zebras are close-minded assholes. The wildlife photographer in Kenya says his physical differences (he's more like a donkey and he even has SPOTS on his back) are vast compared to the usual, simple striped differences amongst zebras.  He has scars probably from all the times he's tried to insert himself into a community that consistently rejects him over differences that he didn't elect. He never gets laid.

As a member of an evolved and superior species, I went AWWWWW.  Did you?  Those other zebras are jerks.  I think that my instinctive sad and sorry feeling for this ostracized fella is about having enough perspective to know that his GLORIOUS spots are a rare and beautiful sight and that the other zebras are idiots.  His differences are of a genetic origin that has a cosmetic consequence, but his culture imposes much, much more judgement than just having spots would warrant. I'm sure it's some evolutionary coded instinct that causes them to reject any animal that might risk the survival of the species.  From a scientific perspective, however, this genetic anomaly perceived through a larger lens might have served to strengthen the line somehow, but zebras are known for not valuing the big picture and don't have genetic counseling so they shun instead.  Jerks.

You know they aren't the only species that has an extreme reaction to difference - all of them do it.  Watch Animal Planet and then get all smug about how we are superior because of our big brains and opposable thumbs, but don't kid yourself into thinking we make use of those big ol' brains.   We have an instinct that says leaving that zebra out is wrong and that's A HUGE difference between us and other animals - not that we have that instinct, but that we ignore our instincts.  You won't see a dog second guess his gut about a person. Or a zebra I guess.  Funny how anthropological knowledge and an endorsement of our own superiority (which we usually attribute to our capacity for morality) as a species doesn't translate into empathy or inclusion in our own community, where bullying among children and adults, venom over politics and a complete disregard for civility over differences are clearly a problem.  Something to think about maybe.

Not sure it could be worse