Saturday, May 26, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
A man, a zebra, and a parrot all go to a bar.
Only it's not a joke...
http://www.desmoinesregister.com/article/20120523/NEWS/305220087/-1/SPORTS12/Man-zebra-parrot-truck-charged-OWI
and it ends like this:
http://www.desmoinesregister.com/article/20120523/NEWS/305220087/-1/SPORTS12/Man-zebra-parrot-truck-charged-OWI
and it ends like this:
I assure you, clicking the link above will be worth it.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Me and Honeybadger
Here's a statistic for you: 90% of people fail to keep their New Year's resolutions. I just made that statistic up, but I bet it's close. That would hardly be a shocker since we do it every year and still pick the same thing to try the next year. I figure probably you've spent several sleepless nights wondering how I'm doing with mine and since I want you to be well rested, it seemed like the six month mark is a good time to update you. Here's the original post on my New Year's resolution to trust my own gut this year: http://strangerlori.blogspot.com/2011/12/resolved.html and after I re-read it, I realized it was more appropriate that my adherence to my 2012 motto, "I don't give a %^$* what you think" was really probably the more important other half of it, so here's that link too: http://strangerlori.blogspot.com/2012/01/might-be-time-for-new-motto.html. You don't need to go back and read it to follow along, but there it is.
To be honest, I am certain that "I don't give a $%^@ what you think" will never be an instinctive sort of statement for me both because I've spent 40 years letting your gut take the place of mine and because I just like knowing people like me. I'm okay with that, but it's been so important for me to at least try the phrase on for a while and I'm getting pretty good with it. You've no idea how completely icky it feels to press "PUBLISH" on a post that means ANYONE ON THE WHOLE WIDE INTERNET can now know that I fell down the stairs or that I acted a fool at the circus (not giving you the links to those, you will have to work for it).
Here's how my writing process usually goes: Finish a post, re-read, fret, check spelling, fret, take a shower, make changes, fret, finally say, "I don't give a $#% what they think, because this is me and they don't have to read it and I'm okay if they don't like me", go downstairs, re-read, make this worried eeek face:
Here's how my writing process usually goes: Finish a post, re-read, fret, check spelling, fret, take a shower, make changes, fret, finally say, "I don't give a $#% what they think, because this is me and they don't have to read it and I'm okay if they don't like me", go downstairs, re-read, make this worried eeek face:
and then hit PUBLISH and remind myself I'm okay. And then immediately run into someone at Walmart whom I barely know who says "I read your blog" and die a little. The good news is that my response time to actually landing on my motto is much shorter than it used to be.
But writing to you is not the only arena of concern in my life. I painted some birds I liked and some I wasn't proud of and decided that I didn't ask anyone to like them or purchase them and folks can go paint their own damn birds if they want. That felt pretty good. Some times the same thing goes with what I wear and what I do with my time.
So at the 6 month mark of letting my gut be my guide I can tell you that I'm getting pretty comfortable in the driver's seat of my own life and so is everyone around me. Just like everyone else, though, I need the occasional reminder to let my motto be a guiding principle in my decisions. We still have 6 more months to go and I'm not gonna be in the 90%!
But inspiration often comes when you aren't searching for it, and while I typically avoid watching the little Youtube video posts on FB (I'm just too busy with the stalking parts of FB), thankfully my friend reminded me of the Honeybadger video circulating and you can't be surprised that I now have aligned myself with this hateful (and foul-mouthed) creature.
Note to mom and Olivia: you are not allowed to hear the sort of language contained in this video so YOU STOP right here. I will know if you didn't.
But inspiration often comes when you aren't searching for it, and while I typically avoid watching the little Youtube video posts on FB (I'm just too busy with the stalking parts of FB), thankfully my friend reminded me of the Honeybadger video circulating and you can't be surprised that I now have aligned myself with this hateful (and foul-mouthed) creature.
Note to mom and Olivia: you are not allowed to hear the sort of language contained in this video so YOU STOP right here. I will know if you didn't.
So I'm not quite to Honeybadger status, but I'm way closer (and hoping not to cross the line into eating cobra). Check back with me in 6 months, though, because anything can happen.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Weekend Recap
I've always said that I don't have a lot of SKILLS or specialties, but
that I possess an extraordinary ability to pick good friends. That's
not to say I've never made a bad call on the investment of friendship
(book deal!). I have, but by and large I have a great, small set of
people I trust to show myself to in a very real and honest way. This,
I think, is a must do on your bucket list. Shoot for 5 (so that you
can have a lunch partner most days), but settle for 2 and that's a
good life really. Start early, also, because it's a long project.
When I am accepting new applications for friendship, I have a lot of
things to consider. Potential new friends are put through a battery of
tests which range anywhere from staged crisis calls to a probability
calculator to determine if she might be a "drive me to cancer
treatments when I'm old" candidate. You think I'm kidding.
Anyway, shout out to Kenny for watching Olivia because my (very
qualified) friends Allison and Susan were able to join me at the beach
for a few days. We cover a wide range of topics in not very much
time, but because it's important, we stay up later and talk, talk,
talk until our throats hurt. These two women are beyond wise and
hilarious too so it's a thrilling weekend. This year's Summit Talks
covered everything from farmers markets to the horrifying particulars
of aging that we are now hearing about (what the hell is a bladder
tack???).
A lot of good conversations start with the phrase, "I read this
article..." you know. The particular article Susan mentioned was on
Fracking, which is actually short for Hydraulic Fracturing (for the
extraction of natural gas from the earth) and you know more than I do
about that, but in a nutshell the article detailed how very ill folks
who'd been working nearby a fracking site had become and continue to
become. Here's the exact transcript:
S: Who's idea was this fracking anyway?
L: Some man. They like to dig holes and release natural gases and there you go.
A: Wonder what would happen if women ruled the world.
L: Well, we'd just say crap like, "OH MY GOD, Did you see how she was
fracking?"
S: Yeah, "Her frackers aren't even real."
A: "Fracking slut."
If you had been there you'd have something to add, I bet. And so we
had a discussion of the reality that we ladies aren't so kind to one
another. Bullying isn't exclusive to elementary schools, friends, and
where do you think they've learned this manipulation and envy? But
the worst part of it is that what we'd all say we needed most from the
world: to be truly known and valued by someone, is exactly what we're
actively keeping ourselves from when we spend our time with friends
who treat us badly. This is why, when she was 3, I taught Olivia to
say, "GET OFF MY PROPERTY" on her playhouse porch with arms akimbo.
It's an essential life skill to be able to send the mean ones away.
Twice recently I've received emails with the phrase, "I knew you
wouldn't judge me" in them and at least 4 times this month I've
heard, "I wouldn't want anyone to know this, but..." in regard to the
activities, difficulties, complete failures of their children and
marriages. Now I understand the need for discretion and think it
ought to be used way more than it is (I mean, the DETAILS of your sex
life on FB exhaust and embarrass me), but that anyone would have to
fear her friends' judgement and gossip at a time when she desperately
needs support makes me terribly sad. I want to say, THESE PEOPLE ARE
MOST CERTAINLY NOT YOUR FRIENDS, if you can't share with them your
heartbreak and your excitement for fear of criticism and envy. Or
maybe you do what I used to do and you've not tried to show them
something of yourself and you'd find that they'd be delighted or
RELIEVED to lay down their perfect picture and are just waiting on
you. We looked at it through different lenses and landed on gratitude
that we have each other.
Our conversation moved on to the best way to make guacamole and the
joys of discussing sex with your children. Just 4 days and it was
over, but what a great thing to feel the exhale that comes with
relaxing into an environment that suits you with friends who only want
the good stuff for you. So that's my wish for you today: that you'd
have someone you can show all of yourself to who's earned it and that
everyone else would keep their fracking to themselves.
that I possess an extraordinary ability to pick good friends. That's
not to say I've never made a bad call on the investment of friendship
(book deal!). I have, but by and large I have a great, small set of
people I trust to show myself to in a very real and honest way. This,
I think, is a must do on your bucket list. Shoot for 5 (so that you
can have a lunch partner most days), but settle for 2 and that's a
good life really. Start early, also, because it's a long project.
When I am accepting new applications for friendship, I have a lot of
things to consider. Potential new friends are put through a battery of
tests which range anywhere from staged crisis calls to a probability
calculator to determine if she might be a "drive me to cancer
treatments when I'm old" candidate. You think I'm kidding.
Anyway, shout out to Kenny for watching Olivia because my (very
qualified) friends Allison and Susan were able to join me at the beach
for a few days. We cover a wide range of topics in not very much
time, but because it's important, we stay up later and talk, talk,
talk until our throats hurt. These two women are beyond wise and
hilarious too so it's a thrilling weekend. This year's Summit Talks
covered everything from farmers markets to the horrifying particulars
of aging that we are now hearing about (what the hell is a bladder
tack???).
A lot of good conversations start with the phrase, "I read this
article..." you know. The particular article Susan mentioned was on
Fracking, which is actually short for Hydraulic Fracturing (for the
extraction of natural gas from the earth) and you know more than I do
about that, but in a nutshell the article detailed how very ill folks
who'd been working nearby a fracking site had become and continue to
become. Here's the exact transcript:
S: Who's idea was this fracking anyway?
L: Some man. They like to dig holes and release natural gases and there you go.
A: Wonder what would happen if women ruled the world.
L: Well, we'd just say crap like, "OH MY GOD, Did you see how she was
fracking?"
S: Yeah, "Her frackers aren't even real."
A: "Fracking slut."
If you had been there you'd have something to add, I bet. And so we
had a discussion of the reality that we ladies aren't so kind to one
another. Bullying isn't exclusive to elementary schools, friends, and
where do you think they've learned this manipulation and envy? But
the worst part of it is that what we'd all say we needed most from the
world: to be truly known and valued by someone, is exactly what we're
actively keeping ourselves from when we spend our time with friends
who treat us badly. This is why, when she was 3, I taught Olivia to
say, "GET OFF MY PROPERTY" on her playhouse porch with arms akimbo.
It's an essential life skill to be able to send the mean ones away.
Twice recently I've received emails with the phrase, "I knew you
wouldn't judge me" in them and at least 4 times this month I've
heard, "I wouldn't want anyone to know this, but..." in regard to the
activities, difficulties, complete failures of their children and
marriages. Now I understand the need for discretion and think it
ought to be used way more than it is (I mean, the DETAILS of your sex
life on FB exhaust and embarrass me), but that anyone would have to
fear her friends' judgement and gossip at a time when she desperately
needs support makes me terribly sad. I want to say, THESE PEOPLE ARE
MOST CERTAINLY NOT YOUR FRIENDS, if you can't share with them your
heartbreak and your excitement for fear of criticism and envy. Or
maybe you do what I used to do and you've not tried to show them
something of yourself and you'd find that they'd be delighted or
RELIEVED to lay down their perfect picture and are just waiting on
you. We looked at it through different lenses and landed on gratitude
that we have each other.
Our conversation moved on to the best way to make guacamole and the
joys of discussing sex with your children. Just 4 days and it was
over, but what a great thing to feel the exhale that comes with
relaxing into an environment that suits you with friends who only want
the good stuff for you. So that's my wish for you today: that you'd
have someone you can show all of yourself to who's earned it and that
everyone else would keep their fracking to themselves.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
May as well just dance
So I had a great girls weekend for Mother's Day. The thing about Mother's Day celebrating is that I can never figure out if that's the day you're supposed to NOT do anything motherly or if that's the day you're supposed to show your kids you can be the best of mothers by letting them make horrible messes of breakfast in bed so that you can then thank them through your gritted teeth and start cleaning. If those are the options the best thing I can do is leave town.
Naturally we spend a lot of our time away from the children talking about the children. When we feel like we are not doing it well, we fall back on the It Takes a Village thinking that basically is code for OH MY GOD THIS IS TOO BIG OF A JOB FOR ME PLEASE CALL IN REINFORCEMENTS, which, if we are honest about it, is why we LOVE school. The problem is, this is probably what's happening at your carefully selected private school:
But if you don't rely on them, they are just stuck with Uncle Eddie as your only back up and here's what HE teaches them:
I guess lock picking (notice how she glances around like she's on the lookout) is not such a bad skill, but since you know I have visions of prison sentences it doesn't sit so well with me.
Anyway, it's true that we can't raise these kids without some sort of community and I like the It Takes a Village idea so long as all the villagers have received background checks and don't subscribe to any porn websites or alien abduction theories.
The thing is, for all the worrying we do, the kids I see all seem to be pretty neat young people with their quirks and difficulties that will either be overcome, turned into something awesome, or translated into some treatable condition for their therapist later anyway. So the moms and I concluded that, if you are doing a sufficient amount of worrying over them, if you are enrolling them in endeavors with or without you that generate curiosity and enrich their imaginations, exposing them to the occasional failure and lots of kindness, then the kids are probably gonna be alright.
Now, who's up for making a video of us dancing behind them?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Ole!
So sorry I've been absent the last few days! I had a TON of Mother's Day birdies that needed to fly and I managed to get a 2nd (oh how am I so fortunate) staph infection and then I needed to catch up on some rest with some girlfriends at the beach.
The thing about friends is you can either get it miserably wrong, or you can end up like this:
Anywho, a weekend of good conversation gave me tons of stuff for us to think about together so let me unpack and then we'll talk.
Can't wait!
L
The thing about friends is you can either get it miserably wrong, or you can end up like this:
Anywho, a weekend of good conversation gave me tons of stuff for us to think about together so let me unpack and then we'll talk.
Can't wait!
L
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
Mother's Day
Seems like a good time to talk about being a mom.
When you are pregnant, you have time to imagine all the things you're going to do with your child, all the things you want for them, all the ways you want to prepare them for a great life. It's a pretty idealistic time. And then the bundle of joy actually arrives and since no kid ever screams for Daddy in the night, you suddenly have a lot less time to make all of those things happen.
I live with this kind of megaphone effect (that's what I call it, but there's probably a diagnosis for it somewhere). It's like this: If Olivia does something small (mouthpiece end of the megaphone) like say, disrespect her dad, I immediately magnify that offense into a HUGE end-life consequence that means she can't keep a job as a grown up because she disrespects everyone. See? Small lie becomes Ponzi Schemer. New bikini = stripper. Everything is put through this ridiculous magnifying filter and it's exhausting really, and also completely unfair because I know Olivia and the likelihood of her becoming a Ponzi scheming stripper who can't keep a job is very slim. On the flip side, all small positive events have the potential to influence great future actions as well. That's the good part I guess.
If I have an example of awful parenting, it would be demonstrated in my addiction to the Dance Mom's phenomenon. Have you seen this show? As far as I'm concerned, it's the only good thing the Lifetime Channel has invested in since Tori Spelling quit making movies with them so that's saying a lot. I'm not sure I've seen a worse example of parenting than this show. These women sit all day at their children's dance rehearsals and compare them and compete with one another. They are catty and mean, but they hide their own ambition behind claims that they want their children to achieve their dreams. It's truly horrible (if by horrible you mean AWESOME to watch), but it's not that far from what you can find here too probably. The poor kid is dancing her ass off and MOM feeds off all the glory. It's a lot of pressure for a child to imagine they are responsible for their parent's success and happiness in the world. It's not hard to end up there, though. It just starts with a little pride in your child's honest accomplishments and apparently ends with sequins, scattered tutus and lots of yelling (New episodes in June!!!).
My point is, the day to day of actual mothering can get in the way of the great goals we were hoping to help the little angels achieve. I mean, since 2000 I've not had a lot of rest really because I'm in charge of everything from homework to teaching the value of good foundation garments to a human who has an agenda of her own. I'm supposed to make sure that while I'm cooking a healthy dinner I cover making sure this kid knows the basics of geometry, bike riding, green vegetables AND fit in things like mascara application and internet safety. And those things are nothing when you compare them to the real things I wanted for her when I was pregnant. Can you fit in lessons on how to be a friend, how to have a friend, how to generate an endless curiosity in the world, how to find joy in generosity and spirituality if you are stuck worrying about things like Red dye #5, whether you have tissues and tic-tacs for church, and lactose intolerance? Hardly. And at age 11, we haven't even covered lessons in career ambition, picking the right partner and never taking your clothes off for the camera.
Needless to say, I've changed my expectations for how this process would go. I mean, some days my only goal is to have neither of our kids living with us past their college graduations. So far we are doing pretty well on that, but as we've discussed, just about anything can happen. It's not like this guy's mom thought this would happen:
And we all know who gets blamed when your kid ends up miserable. M-O-M. Ask any therapist. It's their bread and butter. I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this lately and really, if there are still gonna only be 24 hours in a day, there's hardly enough time to cover everything before the baby birds take flight. Panic panic panic.
The only remedy I've been able to find is this: Your example might be your insurance if you don't want them to live in your basement when they are 30. You've only got a few hours a day to SAY things, but you've got way longer to DEMONSTRATE things. For instance, can I expect my child to cultivate 5 good friendships if she hears me trashing my friends on the phone? Can I expect her to have confidence if I undermine my own all day long? Can I expect her to be curious about the world and develop ambition if I am focusing only on what reality show is in front of me tonight? I can't. It sucks, but it's true. Hear me on this, though, friend: It's all we've got. She turned 11 in the blink of an eye so it's really all hands on deck at this point. Our example is our saving grace, our ace in the hole if you will, and it's also the best investment in everyone around us.
People say all the time they'd lay down their lives for their children, but you probably won't be asked to do that since there aren't a lot of bears or sharks in North Georgia. You can say you live for them, but that seems like a lot of pressure for a kid. It's so simple, really, that I can't believe we missed it: Make your life something your child could aspire to and maybe they will. Make YOUR life a spiritual example, an example of friendship, and one of generosity and hard work so they can witness it. And for God's sake quit drinking so damn much. Soon enough they will sniff out every inconsistency between what we've said we value and what we actually live and that's when the tutus start flying friends.
The great news is that there's still time! Maybe we've been following them around with the tissues so much that we forgot our part in it or maybe it's because we're afraid for ourselves, but whatever the reason, we've got to get out there and actually start being what we want them to become, sister. And while we're at it, let's make sure our girls all know the importance of a good foundation garment and a little mascara.
When you are pregnant, you have time to imagine all the things you're going to do with your child, all the things you want for them, all the ways you want to prepare them for a great life. It's a pretty idealistic time. And then the bundle of joy actually arrives and since no kid ever screams for Daddy in the night, you suddenly have a lot less time to make all of those things happen.
I live with this kind of megaphone effect (that's what I call it, but there's probably a diagnosis for it somewhere). It's like this: If Olivia does something small (mouthpiece end of the megaphone) like say, disrespect her dad, I immediately magnify that offense into a HUGE end-life consequence that means she can't keep a job as a grown up because she disrespects everyone. See? Small lie becomes Ponzi Schemer. New bikini = stripper. Everything is put through this ridiculous magnifying filter and it's exhausting really, and also completely unfair because I know Olivia and the likelihood of her becoming a Ponzi scheming stripper who can't keep a job is very slim. On the flip side, all small positive events have the potential to influence great future actions as well. That's the good part I guess.
If I have an example of awful parenting, it would be demonstrated in my addiction to the Dance Mom's phenomenon. Have you seen this show? As far as I'm concerned, it's the only good thing the Lifetime Channel has invested in since Tori Spelling quit making movies with them so that's saying a lot. I'm not sure I've seen a worse example of parenting than this show. These women sit all day at their children's dance rehearsals and compare them and compete with one another. They are catty and mean, but they hide their own ambition behind claims that they want their children to achieve their dreams. It's truly horrible (if by horrible you mean AWESOME to watch), but it's not that far from what you can find here too probably. The poor kid is dancing her ass off and MOM feeds off all the glory. It's a lot of pressure for a child to imagine they are responsible for their parent's success and happiness in the world. It's not hard to end up there, though. It just starts with a little pride in your child's honest accomplishments and apparently ends with sequins, scattered tutus and lots of yelling (New episodes in June!!!).
My point is, the day to day of actual mothering can get in the way of the great goals we were hoping to help the little angels achieve. I mean, since 2000 I've not had a lot of rest really because I'm in charge of everything from homework to teaching the value of good foundation garments to a human who has an agenda of her own. I'm supposed to make sure that while I'm cooking a healthy dinner I cover making sure this kid knows the basics of geometry, bike riding, green vegetables AND fit in things like mascara application and internet safety. And those things are nothing when you compare them to the real things I wanted for her when I was pregnant. Can you fit in lessons on how to be a friend, how to have a friend, how to generate an endless curiosity in the world, how to find joy in generosity and spirituality if you are stuck worrying about things like Red dye #5, whether you have tissues and tic-tacs for church, and lactose intolerance? Hardly. And at age 11, we haven't even covered lessons in career ambition, picking the right partner and never taking your clothes off for the camera.
Needless to say, I've changed my expectations for how this process would go. I mean, some days my only goal is to have neither of our kids living with us past their college graduations. So far we are doing pretty well on that, but as we've discussed, just about anything can happen. It's not like this guy's mom thought this would happen:
And we all know who gets blamed when your kid ends up miserable. M-O-M. Ask any therapist. It's their bread and butter. I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this lately and really, if there are still gonna only be 24 hours in a day, there's hardly enough time to cover everything before the baby birds take flight. Panic panic panic.
The only remedy I've been able to find is this: Your example might be your insurance if you don't want them to live in your basement when they are 30. You've only got a few hours a day to SAY things, but you've got way longer to DEMONSTRATE things. For instance, can I expect my child to cultivate 5 good friendships if she hears me trashing my friends on the phone? Can I expect her to have confidence if I undermine my own all day long? Can I expect her to be curious about the world and develop ambition if I am focusing only on what reality show is in front of me tonight? I can't. It sucks, but it's true. Hear me on this, though, friend: It's all we've got. She turned 11 in the blink of an eye so it's really all hands on deck at this point. Our example is our saving grace, our ace in the hole if you will, and it's also the best investment in everyone around us.
People say all the time they'd lay down their lives for their children, but you probably won't be asked to do that since there aren't a lot of bears or sharks in North Georgia. You can say you live for them, but that seems like a lot of pressure for a kid. It's so simple, really, that I can't believe we missed it: Make your life something your child could aspire to and maybe they will. Make YOUR life a spiritual example, an example of friendship, and one of generosity and hard work so they can witness it. And for God's sake quit drinking so damn much. Soon enough they will sniff out every inconsistency between what we've said we value and what we actually live and that's when the tutus start flying friends.
The great news is that there's still time! Maybe we've been following them around with the tissues so much that we forgot our part in it or maybe it's because we're afraid for ourselves, but whatever the reason, we've got to get out there and actually start being what we want them to become, sister. And while we're at it, let's make sure our girls all know the importance of a good foundation garment and a little mascara.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Show her you love her however you can
By the end of this lengthy dance of seduction, I kinda loved this guy. I really hope it worked for his lady friend.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Left handed
When you grow up left-handed the world happily lets you know real quick something's wrong with you. Even in elementary school I knew I was missing out on something because you can't even cut with those kiddie scissors if you're left-handed. You can't hold your pencil well either so penmanship is out the window. The world is backwards. I found this article the other day and it just about caused me to explode. So now, not only am I on the wrong side of things, I get to die earlier too. Turns out they're not kidding when they say it's a right-handers world. Here's my favorite quote from the article:
Nothing like a little good news. Geez.
That article called to mind Bill Bryson's book I'm a Stranger Here Myself which is one of my favorites. Did you know that phrase is where the title of this blog came from? Anyway, in one chapter he describes stumbling across an index, a table really, in "The Statistical Abstract of the United States." Its truly one of my favorite discoveries ever. Table 206: Injuries Associated with Consumer Products is the actual title. I know you are thinking BORING, but trust me on this.
According to Bryson, this Table 206 lists various injuries involving normal folks (probably seemingly normal, but they could be left handed folks) and normal household products. It documents that lots of folks get hurt on stairs and with sharp things, of course, but the surprising part is that tons of folks (tons!) injure themselves with things (like clothing??) that I cannot imagine would warrant any sort of medical attention. While the data he mentioned was last updated in 1992, it is alarming to hear that 400,000 Americans every year suffered injuries "involving beds, mattresses, or pillows." Listen: They've been injured by their bedding. You gotta wonder how. And here's the thing: In order for this to have been documented, someone had to actually ENTER an Emergency Room and have this injury verified. Now I don't know about you, but there is absolutely no circumstance in which I would willingly admit to an ER doc that I had been injured by my pillow.
Put those two readings together AND let me happen upon video last week of that poor woman just walking along and FALLING IN A DAMN SINKHOLE and you can imagine how close I came to actually losing my mind. It's crystal clear to me that ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN and since it appears that my left-handedness means it will happen to me earlier, I'd better get on with the big living STAT!
Living is one thing, but living the life you WANT is another. I used to read articles with titles like "You Can Have it All" and "How to Find Your Purpose" and mostly by the end of them I felt no more enlightened, just more bummed because I couldn't even stay with the article long enough to successfully absorb it. I mean, hell, who has time to find a purpose with all the grocery shopping and laundry? And if you found it, would you be able to afford to make it your actual life? Nah. But the truth is, that big life isn't gonna come and find you. You won't become anything better than this if you don't DO anything better.
But what if you just started, what if I just started, with just making your DAY what you wanted? What if between laundry and groceries you just spent 15 minutes doing your favorite thing? What if you had just 15 minutes in a day that you could look forward to? Something you could try that was new or something you used to love? Or created something? Tried something you were afraid of? Would that qualify as a big life? Maybe.
For me, it was. I used my 15 minutes to write (with my left hand!). And then I used it to paint (also with the left). And 15 minutes grew into longer. A few months later I have YOU and I have people who actually pay me for paintings. Sure, I have dinner to prepare and laundry to do also, but I'm not consumed by the boredom of that because I'm too busy with all of this living. And maybe next week bird paintings won't sell and maybe you'll quit reading, but I'll be too busy creating something else and examining my pillows for sharp edges because it really is true that just about anything can happen in this big life.
"The world isn’t just driving lefties to drink, though. It’s also killing them. Left-handed people seem to expire anywhere from a few months to a few years before righties, all other things being equal. One of the deadliest problems is simply that the world isn’t laid out best for lefties. This leads to left-handed people being five times more likely to die in accidents than right-handed people."
Nothing like a little good news. Geez.
That article called to mind Bill Bryson's book I'm a Stranger Here Myself which is one of my favorites. Did you know that phrase is where the title of this blog came from? Anyway, in one chapter he describes stumbling across an index, a table really, in "The Statistical Abstract of the United States." Its truly one of my favorite discoveries ever. Table 206: Injuries Associated with Consumer Products is the actual title. I know you are thinking BORING, but trust me on this.
According to Bryson, this Table 206 lists various injuries involving normal folks (probably seemingly normal, but they could be left handed folks) and normal household products. It documents that lots of folks get hurt on stairs and with sharp things, of course, but the surprising part is that tons of folks (tons!) injure themselves with things (like clothing??) that I cannot imagine would warrant any sort of medical attention. While the data he mentioned was last updated in 1992, it is alarming to hear that 400,000 Americans every year suffered injuries "involving beds, mattresses, or pillows." Listen: They've been injured by their bedding. You gotta wonder how. And here's the thing: In order for this to have been documented, someone had to actually ENTER an Emergency Room and have this injury verified. Now I don't know about you, but there is absolutely no circumstance in which I would willingly admit to an ER doc that I had been injured by my pillow.
Put those two readings together AND let me happen upon video last week of that poor woman just walking along and FALLING IN A DAMN SINKHOLE and you can imagine how close I came to actually losing my mind. It's crystal clear to me that ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN and since it appears that my left-handedness means it will happen to me earlier, I'd better get on with the big living STAT!
Living is one thing, but living the life you WANT is another. I used to read articles with titles like "You Can Have it All" and "How to Find Your Purpose" and mostly by the end of them I felt no more enlightened, just more bummed because I couldn't even stay with the article long enough to successfully absorb it. I mean, hell, who has time to find a purpose with all the grocery shopping and laundry? And if you found it, would you be able to afford to make it your actual life? Nah. But the truth is, that big life isn't gonna come and find you. You won't become anything better than this if you don't DO anything better.
But what if you just started, what if I just started, with just making your DAY what you wanted? What if between laundry and groceries you just spent 15 minutes doing your favorite thing? What if you had just 15 minutes in a day that you could look forward to? Something you could try that was new or something you used to love? Or created something? Tried something you were afraid of? Would that qualify as a big life? Maybe.
For me, it was. I used my 15 minutes to write (with my left hand!). And then I used it to paint (also with the left). And 15 minutes grew into longer. A few months later I have YOU and I have people who actually pay me for paintings. Sure, I have dinner to prepare and laundry to do also, but I'm not consumed by the boredom of that because I'm too busy with all of this living. And maybe next week bird paintings won't sell and maybe you'll quit reading, but I'll be too busy creating something else and examining my pillows for sharp edges because it really is true that just about anything can happen in this big life.
Love to know how this came about
Idaho man demands "moonwalk" at gunpoint, so cops say they arrested him
Michael Jackson, who made the "moonwalk" famous, performing at the Video Music Awards in Los Angeles, CA on September 7, 1995.
(Credit: Frank Micelotta/ImageDirect/Getty Images)
Cross was also barred from contacting the alleged victim in the case.
According to the Bonner County Daily Bee, sheriff's deputies were summoned to Cross' home on Monday after receiving a report that he was on drugs and had pointed a rifle at another man while demanding he dance the "moonwalk," first made popular by the late Michael Jackson.
A probable cause affidavit describes the weapon Cross used as appearing to be an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle.
During his first court appearance Tuesday, Cross said it was an Airsoft pellet gun that he pointed.
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