Middle school would have been so much easier.

How, how, how, you must be wondering, is Lori so willing to tell us of her embarrasssing exploits? It's like she doesn't even care. I really do care, however, and I tell you about it because it makes you laugh, but a lot of the reason I don't mind actually being embarrassed is because of this study:

http://www.psych.cornell.edu/sec/pubPeople/tdg1/Gilo.Medvec.Sav.pdf

I totally get if you don't want to read a white paper from Cornell's psych department so I'll make it simple. There's this thing that your mom tried to tell you about, but you didn't believe. It all boils down to this: Nobody's looking at you! How liberating!!

Here's the science behind mom's wisdom in nerd speak. The folks at Cornell did this study to illuminate the Spotlight Effect as it relates to embarrassment. Now we all know we think it's all about us (how can it not be?) so we assume that folks see us as more important than we are, hence our great aversion to making public mistakes. You feel is if a GREAT SPOTLIGHT has been placed on you when you take a tumble, split your pants, say the wrong thing, but it turns out a lot of that is in your pretty little head. These guys prove it though. Here's how it works:

They set up a study in which college student A has to enter a room already full of other people (who, incidentally, think they are there for their own self important questionnaire filling out reasons). Nobody likes to be late so maybe that's a little uncomfortable, but not so bad until you discover he's been made to enter wearing a Barry Manilow t-shirt. Now you and I know the Copacabana cannot be outdone, but the 19 year olds surveyed have a different opinion. The wearer predicts that 95% of people will notice his shirt (and think he's a dork) and in fact only half of the observers made any note of it and probably even less gave a flip about it. The WEARER thought the shirt was embarrassing so he felt embarrassed, but the everyday OBSERVER paid very little attention because he was doing his own thing (i.e. worrying about his cowlick). The spotlight was only in the wearer's head!

WHAT? I know!!! Doesn't this free you from worry about the run in your panty hose? The lost drunken karaoke video? The convenience store footage of you face planting after tripping over the gas pump hose? You are totally free to be an idiot whenever you please. I hereby release you into the world unconcerned about your split pants, bad skin and donkey-laugh. You no longer have to slink out of the spotlight because it's bulb has blown. Mom was so right. Be the fool that rushes in because nobody's looking at you even if you can't rock that Manilow shirt.

You've Got to Get in Front of These Sorts of Things

If you want to make me howl with laughter, try tripping over something. I can't help it. Physical humor, not slapstick Three Stooges stuff, just causes an eruptive guffaw from me before I know what happens. Just ask Kenny. He knows I try to stifle, but am unable to control my laughter. The time he fell flat on his face in the middle of the night and BOUNCED kept me squealing for hours. The time his plan to have Coco (our Cocker Spaniel) pull him on Olivia's princess scooter ended in the predictable disastrous meeting of elbow and concrete and was an event that gave me giggle fodder for even longer.

So that I understand my place in things, occasionally I get to be the one who falls. I'm not above it and I'm okay with that. The Great Fall of 2006 involved an impressive catapult in socked feet on my wooden stairs wherein I got to experience FLYING for a brief moment as I skipped the last 6 or 7 steps. This is when I realized that it hurts a lot more to fall as an adult. My entire body felt jarred - even my teeth hurt - for a few days afterwards.

The Fall of 2011 was a much talked about event. I was definitely featured on some convenience store video footage when I, in an effort to do a gazelle like move to hop over a gas pump hose, managed instead to catch one foot and then a second on said hose and made impact with GAS STATION CONCRETE (imagine bubble gum and spit and shudder) with both knees, both elbows and then both hands. That affair ended with the right side of my head smashing into the garbage can. I could see the can coming, but the only thing to do is close your eyes and let it unfold. Needless to say, it took several moments for me to get myself together and speed away.

My falls are not like other people's falls. They happen in slow motion and always involve some sort of somersaulty action and lots of noise. I was as surprised as you that so early in 2012 I have already experienced a new high (or low) in clumsiness. This weekend as our family returned from dinner one evening I noticed on our brick steps leading downward to the house that something had fallen from my pocket. As I turned to inspect what had fallen, my foot (IN FANTASTIC NEW TENNIES) caught somehow and caused me to wobble. And then the slow-mo began. I swear to you this event stretched time somehow. One step, twist, another step, twist the opposite direction. Oh! Oh! Oh! Don't scuff my shoes!!! Hands full, I slammed into the iron rail and then hyper-extended in 12 different ways before I windmilled down the brick stairs. Now during the 20 minutes it took all of this to unfold I'm trying to avoid making impact WITH ACTUAL BRICK which is why I guess I should consider myself lucky that I instead LANDED FACE FIRST AGAINST THE SIDE OF THE HOUSE. Umph. This happens all the time in Road Runner and it feels about how you think it would.

Not my proudest moment, but knowing you will imagine the Diet Coke in my hair just makes me smile. So, you know me, always trying to get in front of an embarrassing moment by outing myself. I'm fine, really and so are my shoes.

Diamond in the Rough - I can't say it better.

No, you stop it.

Have you ever tried meditating? I can kinda get on track with that during a yoga class, but left to my own devices my mind is all over the map. I've read some really compelling things about meditation lately (specifically, about it's benefits in regard to us seasonally challenged folks). So, armed with my therapist's suggestion and an intense curiosity, I decided to give it a whirl.

I'm not kidding you, I can't keep my head in one place for 20 seconds - and my goal is only 3-4 minutes. Here's a timeline of how my time goes:

Settled in a quiet room, no distractions from work-at-home husband, dog, cats or turtle, comfortably dressed.

10:00:00 Focused on breathing.

10:00:07 - "Ah. I'm doing it."
My own reply to myself: "If you're talking to yourself you're probably not doing it right."
"Okay, shut up then."
"No, you shut up."

10:00:17 - "Focus! Just breathe." In. Out. Inhale. Exhale.

10:00:25- "What's that smell?"
"Focus!"
"Ok. Just as soon as I figure out what that smell is."
4 seconds of sniffing. Good thing I'm already breathing deeply.
"Oh - must just be Coco's wet feet."

10:00:32 "Focus!"
In. Out. Inhale. Exhale.
"That might be smoke. Smells kinda smokey."
"It can't be smoke. We have detectors for that."
"Yeah, but what if the batteries are dead and you are sitting here like an idiot in the middle of your burning house all Zen like. Dumbass."
"Stop it."
"No, you stop it."

10:00:45 Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
"Okay - now this is more like it. I'm breathing."
"Oh crap. I forgot to send the field trip permission slip. Olivia's gonna hate me."
"She won't hate you. She'll probably just forge your signature. She's resourceful. Let it go."
"God, now you've turned the child into some kind of criminal just because you can't get it together. There goes that 2012 Mother of the Year award and it's so early in the year."

10:01:01 "Focus dammit." Breathing in. Breathing out.

10:01:15 Iphone text ding.
"Really? I thought I turned that thing off before I started."
"Don't check it."
"What if it's important?"
"DON'T CHECK IT."
"Quit telling me what to do. It might be my sister. What if there's an emergency with Mom and Dad?"
"It's not."
"But it might be."
"It never is!"
"Now I've lost focus. Thanks a lot. Since I'm out of the zone now, I'll just check it."
"Oh - It's a Living Social deal for spa treatments in Lilburn. No thank you."
"Told you so."
"Really, we're that sort of person now who says 'I told you so'?"
"Guess we are."
"No wonder I can't meditate. I can't stand to be in the same head as you."


Session over. Lasted less than 2 minutes. I wonder if meditation is good for folks who are hearing voices?

Why would you tell Americans this?

Cake for breakfast? Study says go for it

My kind of party

Let the Romance Begin!

"Pizza Hut is trying to get into the Horrible Idea business by giving people the chance to deliver a marriage proposal with a side of ranch dressing. The $10,010 Big Dinner Box Proposal includes a red ruby engagement ring, a limo ride to the Pizza Hut of your choice (how do you choose?!), fireworks (like she won't be seeing them already!), a videographer and a photographer to capture that "Dear God what have you done?" look on her face, and of course, a $10 Pizza Hut dinner box. If things don't work out, Domino's will happily handle the quickie divorce." Via Eater

If you are feeling self conscious...

This ought to help.

Don't mind my cape

You know I'm 40.

I didn't anticipate the great sense of resistance I felt as I was pushed towards 40. 38 and 39 both meant nothing because they were mostly steps towards 40. The only reason I can think of that it was difficult was because in my mind everything was supposed to go downhill after that. Call me a victim of Hallmark.

So, as a 40 year old, I'm considering that 40 doesn't have to be the best I ever was. Hell, forget considering, I'm committed that 40 won't be the best I ever was. Specifically, I'm not willing physically to go downhill now.

I've told you before that I view exercise as a necessary tool for mental health. As a young person, I viewed it as a weight loss tool, but that's about it really. I wasn't a member of a sports team as a student and had about zero physical confidence. It turns out a lot of people don't have much physical confidence. If that's your experience, you can feel like everyone in the gym is in on something you missed. There's just as much nonsense going on in the gym as anywhere else, however, and the trick is to just act like you know what you're doing. Here's an example:



Love that. Gain confidence from it. Anyway, last week Shelley (my friend the trainer with whom I have a love/ hate relationship) decided it was 100's day. That means we're gonna do different simple things like squats or push-ups 100 times. I was thinking, "Bring it" until she brought it. So when I reported to my family that the high of my day was doing 100 push-ups, they were astonished. Someone asked, "The girly kind?" and I responded with, "Nope," because I wouldn't do that.

Now one and a half years ago I could do exactly 3 push-ups before falling on my face in a sad little heap, and I do not like to feel weak so 10 seemed a reasonable goal. I went out of town for the summer, but you can do a push-up anywhere and I was determined not to come home and start over with them so I did them on the fireplace, then did them inverted on the fireplace, did them in the tiny little gym, did them, did them, did them.

I think what got me was that several people happened to ask in the same week what kind of workouts Shelley and Candy and I were doing lately and I swear to you this is the the exact transcript I had with every single person:

Me: Oh we just do normal stuff. You know a little jumping around, things like push ups, lunges, doable stuff.

EVERYONE: I couldn't do a push-up.

Me: Sure you can. Start small.

EVERYONE: How many can you do?

Me: Well, I started with 3, but we did 100 this week.

EVERY SINGLE PERSON: The girly kind?

By the 3rd conversation, I gritted my teeth with, "Not the damn girly kind."

But Friday, the best thing ever happened. I overheard Olivia tell her friend in the backseat that her mom could do 100 push-ups - and not the girly kind - and her friend responded with, "Wow. You're mom's a superhero." Now that's more like it.

I am not an athlete. I am not the thinnest or most muscular female or one of those ropey looking women who counts calories and insists on perfection. I am an average, normal 40 year old woman. I am also a super hero who can do 100 push-ups.

Not the girly kind.

Found your dream car!

Hmmmm...