Tag Archives: wry

I’m no prude, but put your shirt on. Gratitude Experiment: Day 37

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I live right by a beautiful state park. And I live in the number one state to make you feel like a lazy pathetic slug.  Seriously, the ninety-nine-year-olds run uphill marathons here. I’m doing good to take the stairs at a fast clip.

So every day when I drive through my neighborhood there are easily four dog walkers and two or three runners in my line of sight. Today, two men were running without their shirts on.  I had to do a double take in my rear view window on one of them because for a second I thought it was a woman running topless.

Now I have never been called a prude. And frankly, I’m known to occasionally blurt out some purely shocking and crude stuff just to mix things up. But come on guys, put your damn shirt on and leave your nipples for your girlfriend’s viewing pleasure. I don’t want to see them. Or anything else under your shirt, sorry.

Women don’t walk around without any pants on just because they don’t have an extra piece of equipment.  So why should you just because most of you don’t have boobs?

Even if you are some hot hunk or you have fabulously cut muscles, no thanks. I’m sure there are some circumstance where it might be okay in public like at the beach, but I find it pretty skeevy most of the time.  And it immediately makes me think you’re not very smart. And even if you’re just mowing your own lawn, it still makes you look like a tool.

And you know that saying about how women who leave a little to the imagination tend to be a little more classy? It applies to you too, jogging hairy boob chest man, sorry.

Today I am grateful that my handsome husband doesn’t jog, bike or mow without a shirt on and because the thought of doing so really doesn’t go through his mind at all.

There’s an Alien in the Coffee Shop. Gratitude Experiment: Day 36

Okay since I used up my Kleenex writing my last post, let’s get some things clear.  This post is not going to be a) heavy, b) depressing or c) lengthy.   Okay maybe a little lengthy because I can’t figure out how to get my posts to be shorter.  Thanks for your patience.

So early this morning I went to get my hair colored because this new getting gray hair thing just plain pisses me off.  Along with needing reading glasses.   No one told me that my body would start immediately deteriorating at warp speed the minute I turned 43. This isn’t funny.

So I’m in the salon waiting the allotted 20 minutes as my color processes and I check my email.  Two emails are friends letting me know that the Denver Post printed my letter to the editor in today’s paper.  Crap, I forgot to check my paper before I left because I was running late.  Not surprising for me.  And before I left I had a client sending me messages with RED FLAGS of importance for matters far from urgent.

I clicked on the email link to the paper.  Cool, they really printed it.  But it just looked like a blog post.  I wanted to see it in real life because that’s the closest thing I’ve had to a byline in years.  Since they don’t let me add bylines to my data sheet copy selling underground fuel storage tank monitoring equipment.  (Yes, my work is Sexy.) I wanted a paper.

I looked at the timer that my stylist had set next to me and then I looked in the mirror.  I have never had so much dye and so many crazy looking foils all over my head in my lifetime.  I’ve gotten highlights before but this time I was switching things up with my color, so she had to empty the store room of color product in order to apply it all over my graying head.  And all the foils where gathered and gooped together into a column pointing up and out the back of my head.  I looked like that creature from Alien, but without all the spit.  I was looking hot.

But I wanted a paper, damn it.  I looked at the lady in the chair next to me.  I asked her if she thought I would frighten people if I walked over to Dazbog Coffee to ask if they sell papers.  Her eyebrows raised and she suggested I have one of the receptionists at the salon go get a paper for me.  But I was perfectly able.  And I’m sure Dazbog would be nearly empty at this time in the morning.

So I grabbed my purse and headed out.  I now had 14 minutes and I wanted a newspaper.  And I didn’t want to wait.

I walked down the sidewalk past people having coffee and got some stares. No biggie.  Then I walk in, with my sassy salon smock and Alien-shaped-hair-color- foiled head.  The place is packed.  With business people. Really? I made a joking comment to the lady in front of me in line so she wouldn’t be frightened if she turned around and wasn’t prepared.  I looked across to my left and at least four or five men were motioning toward me and staring, among plenty others there.  Maybe guys really have no idea what we go through to look so freaking fabulous? Good grief.

Another lady walked up and totally got it.  Time is money.  Gotta get stuff done.  Next, Dazbog girl points me in the direction of the newspapers in the middle of the cafe loungey area.

The clock was ticking.  I was over it. I grabbed a stack of papers, pulled over at a table near the line and started looking through the sections to find my letter. Then I get the feeling that someone close is watching me even more closely.  I turn my head slowly and see that there is a little three-year-old girl who is squeezing her Mom’s hand and staring at me with her jaw dropped.  Just like the kid  in the  Monsters, Inc. movie.  I think she may have wet herself, I’m not sure.  She was scared to death. I apologized to her Mom and told her I was worried this might happen.  She told me it wasn’t a problem and she does the same thing sometimes.  Yeah right.

The Dazbog gal told me I could keep the paper so I sprinted back to the salon, passing more tables of people staring.  I was over it by now and wanted to pull a foil out, hand it to them and keep on walking.

Mission was complete: hair turned out okay, I looked a little less mommish and I had a pretty good time freaking people out, except for the little girl who may have wet herself.

Plus I got my paper and saw my name in print.  Oh, and helped my cause. For all this, I am grateful.

The long way home. Gratitude Experiment: Day 35

This post is from yesterday…  forgot to hit publish.

Once in a while I purposely take the long way home.  Usually it happens when a great song is playing and the car windows are rolled down or the top is down.  Overcast or misty days are the perfect settings for this.

There is a great winding road near my neighborhood that cuts through part of our state park.  It feels like it’s miles from nowhere yet it’s not at all.  It branches off from a much more direct route to its end, so there are usually few cars on it. And right when I reach my neighborhood entrance, it’s like my car sometimes knows when I need to recharge for a just a moment or two.  And when I need to keep going straight and follow this road, making an extra loop before returning home.

I’ve decided this little road is sort of like my own little spiritual retreat.  Like a drive through recharging station.  This is where I crank up whatever song that most likely inspired me to blow off my original turn.  Usually Janis Joplin is whaling about Bobby McGee, Rod Stewart about his sexiness or the Beatles about places they remember.  Any old song that makes me a little sentimental.

And as I make the wide bend of the road (the best part when I go a little too fast) and refocus, I almost always notice a flock of birds in formation.  I’m always in awe of how these birds can perform such a complex and scientific maneuver. Did you know that birds can fly 70% further with the same amount of energy when in formations like this?

I must admit that I have very little affection for birds.  I had a really bad Blue-Jay experience once when my dog found a baby bird, so I am pretty much terrified of most birds.   I’m not sure what kind of birds these are, but I would assume geese or ducks.  And they never cease to fascinate me when flying in formation.

I love that there always seems to be that one little guy at the end of the formation who can’t quite seem to figure it out, probably losing out on much of the drag reduction benefit of the whole exercise.  I always wonder if his cohorts are giving him a hard time for being a slacker and that just stresses him out even more.

And then at that moment I remember a reference in one of my favorite poems.  A poem that I have given to many dear friends in their times of sorrow.  It’s called “Do Not Stand” and the author is unknown from what I can tell.  It’s written from the perspective of someone who has passed on speaking to someone they’ve left behind in this world.  They urge the reader not to stand at their grave and weep, for they are not there. They are a thousand winds that blow, the diamond glints on the snow, the sunlight on ripened grain, the gentle autumn’s rain. And the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.

I can feel my heart leap up as I watch the formation pass over me and I think of my sister. Maybe somehow I connect with that little guy at the end of the formation. Like it’s my sister reminding me that everything’s okay, even for the little guy trying so hard to keep up.  I think a therapist could have a heyday with the psychological theories that might explain this series of thoughts.  Probably many theories would be spot-on, or maybe I subconsciously want to be reincarnated as Janis Joplin’s uncoordinated pet bird?  I’m not sure, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. I’ll be sure to save up for that  session.

Then as I turn my car around at the traffic circle and head back home the opposite direction, through this same stretch of winding road, I breathe a sigh and I am renewed.

Today I am grateful for my long way home.

 

RUOK Day. Gratitude Experiment: Day 34

 

 

Photo from http://www.RUOKday.com

One of my lovely followers who lives in Australia liked the post I made about depression the other day after my friend lost her son (the funeral was today). This blogger mentioned Australia’s national  RUOK Day. I was intrigued and had to look it up.

According to the RUOKday.com website, R U OK? Day is a national day of action dedicated to inspiring all Australians to ask family, friends and colleagues, ‘Are you ok?’  The day encourages reaching out to one another and having open and honest conversations in order to become a more connected community.  And in the end, to help reduce the country’s suicide rate.

The day is celebrated on the second Thursday of September (last Thursday).  The site explains that in the time it takes to have your coffee, you can start a conversation that could change a life.

RUOK? is a not for profit organization that works wiith various Information Partners to provide national focus and leadership on suicide prevention by empowering Australians to have open and honest conversations and stay connected with people in their lives.

R U OK? Day was inspired by the son of Barry Larkin (1940 – 1995).  The day is dedicated to his father and all people who have died through suicide, as well as the family and friends who love them. The first RUOK? Day was in 2009 and after only three years an estimated 58% of the Australian population knew about the national day of action. By last week, which marked the fourth year, I’m sure the number had increased.

The website provides resources for connecting with people in the workplace, schools, health facilities, universities and community and sports clubs.

The Aussies are onto something.  I’m not aware of a single, unified suicide preventive effort like this here in the U.S., and I think we could use one.  And frankly, the more we rely on technology to communicate, the more disconnected we become. And the more we need a day like this to promote awareness for the importance of staying connected.

We should all think about asking R U OK? more often.  We never know when we could impact a life with a just few more moments of connection, listening and empathy. 

Today I am grateful for the many inspirations that come from my fellow bloggers, like this heartwarming and sensible concept.

For more information about the organization, as well as steps for how to reach out and start these conversations, visit http://ruokday.com.

 

I’m Seeing Purple. Gratitude Experiment: Day 32

I walked in the Walk to End Alzheimer’s this morning. What a terrific feeling of hope and camaraderie to walk away with. Last year the Denver walk broke its record with 8,000 walkers.  I guarantee you it was an even bigger crowd today.

I walked with a good friend who walked in memory of her mother who she lost to Alzheimer’s three years ago.  And I walked in memory of my Aunt, who we lost to Alzheimer’s a year ago this month and in honor of her sister, my Mom, who I’m losing to Alzheimer’s a little more each day.  I drew a picture of them on a huge sign they had for people to paint memories of their loved ones.

In a sea of purple, I saw photos on the back of so many walkers’ shirts. Photos of loved ones lost to this hateful disease. The thought that so many like me are fighting this fight is both comforting and terrifying.

This disease isn’t going away anytime soon, as the numbers continue to climb.  Yet it seems like the world is in denial about this disease and how very real it is.  Perhaps it doesn’t seem as real because you don’t visit anyone in the hospital when they have this disease?  And because you never hear anyone with it describing their suffering?  Because they can’t speak for themselves.

But it is very real.  And someone new is diagnosed every 68 seconds.  And by 2050 it will be someone new every 33 seconds.

Ironically, federal funding for Alzheimer’s research pales in comparison to that for other chronic diseases. According to University of Mississippi Medical Center, the $450 million allocated by the National Institutes of Health (NIH) is equivalent to less than 15% of the research funding for HIV/AIDS, less than 11% of funding for cardiovascular disease research, and less than 8% of funding for cancer research.  And for every $28,000 spent on Alzheimer’s patient care, only $100 is spent on research.  In fact, the government funds more nutrition research than it does Alzheimer’s research.

I recently had the privilege of listening to a scientist discuss research initiatives and progress made. Scientists believe we are getting close and even at a tipping point.  We just need a commitment from the federal government to fund research.

And we’re getting there. In January of  2011, the National Alzheimer’s Project Act (NAPA) was signed into law by President Obama. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, The National Alzheimer’s Project Act (NAPA) will create a coordinated national plan to overcome the Alzheimer’s crisis and will ensure the coordination and evaluation of all national efforts in Alzheimer’s research, clinical care, institutional, and home- and community-based programs and their outcomes.

But it’s going to take much more. The public has to make it known what our federal priorities with regard to the impending Alzheimer’s epidemic should be, especially given shrinking budgets at every turn.  More people need to speak up and take action, contact their Congress representative or become advocates through the Alzheimer’s Association.  To put faces on the need. The website of the Alzheimer’s Association has advocacy pages dedicated to helping you do just that. http://www.kintera.org/siteapps/advocacy/ActionItem.aspx?c=mmKXLbP8E&b=7516993&auid=8520366  I know this is  a blatant plug for my cause, but I know with every molecule in my body that you DO NOT want to watch this happen to anyone you love.

If you’re still reading this and you’re not exhausted, I commend you.  And I appreciate you taking the time.  I’m truly grateful that you are reading this, that I went on that walk today, and that we can end this.  Let’s do it.

What happened to the Wonderbread prizes? Gratitude Experiment: Day 32

If only I still had my Flintstones and Bugs Bunny grape jelly jar glasses.  They were awesome.  I used to love our full collection of Welches jelly jar glasses accumulated from the absurd number of peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches I used to consume after school each day in the mid 1970’s.  I drank cold milk in my groovy jelly glasses and sometimes I had Spaghettios on the side (the uptown kind with the little frank slices).

Long before fast food chains started offering lovely “collectible” glassware, grocery store food brands gave away killer loot and I lived for that stuff.

I remember the prizes in the cereal boxes – maybe they still do that?  But I’m sure the ones back in my day were better — and probably nice and hazardous and choke-worthy.  Oh yeah, plastic rings, fake tatoos, little plastic toys definitely small enough to choke on and probably some flammable or lead based prizes.  I specifically remember Fruity Pebbles always having the better prizes and because I didn’t like that brand, it always put me in a cereal choice conundrum.  Sometimes I would even forfeit cereal flavor for prize selection.

And I will never forget the smell of fresh white bread as I took each piece out of the bright red, blue and yellow, polka dotted Wonderbread bag as soon as we got home from the grocery store.  I had to get to the plastic wrapped flat prize at the end of the package, dust the crumbs off, rip open the plastic and stare in awe of its fabulousness.

Sometimes those Wonderbread people (I wanted to use another word) even taunted me and I could see the prize through the end of the package through a little clear window at the bottom.  Talk about pure torture. I may have ripped into a few packages on the ride home, covering my mom’s gigantic 1977 Thunderbird’s black interior and vinyl seats with white bread crumbs.  Battlestar Gallactica, ET, and Hanna Barbera cards were the best. I’m sure my Mom was thrilled with the condition of the bread slices after I handled each piece (ick I would freak on my kids if they did that) and jammed them all back into the bag.

I don’t have any of those fabulous prizes any more but my Mom did manage to save my complete Kool Aid character plastic mug set and they are in my kitchen cabinet.  The one pictured above I just found on ebay, it was my favorite. I think I had to collect a certain number of proof of purchase seals from Kool Aid packets and mail them off to get the cups one at a time (and I got like twelve, from grape flavored Kool Aid. Clearly I was obsessed with grape flavor anything).   Those were the ‘grape to excess’ days.  And surprisingly I still have my teeth, especially when I think of all the sugar we poured into the pitcher.

I have no idea what made me think of all of these Wonderful goodies today, but I know I’ve been writing about heavy stuff lately and my brain was starting to pulsate.  And it’s the end of the week and I’m toast.

What food kiddie prizes do you remember?  Did you have a favorite? Leave a comment below and tell me what your favorite was.

Thanks for reading.  Maybe I’ll have a martini in my Kool Aid cup tonight. And for that I will be very grateful. Happy Friday.

Why Alzheimer’s Is a Drag. Gratitude Experiment: Day 31

Even though it goes against the grain of my 100-day Gratitude Experiment, I feel the need today to write about why my Mom having Alzheimer’s is a drag.

I’m convinced that some gratitude will come to me by the time I finish writing this.  And I’m hoping these thoughts will help my readers cherish every moment they have with their loved ones.  And take nothing for granted.

My Mom having Alzheimer’s is a big fat drag because:

1. I wish I would have spent more quality time with her before she got sick.

2. I wish I had asked her if her favorite color was still yellow when she could still tell me.

3. I wish I would have paid better attention to the signs in the beginning.

4. I desperately wish for rare moments of clarity to happen when I am near.

5. I worry about her dignity.

6. Most healthcare workers have no clue how to treat a person with Alzheimer’s.  And it makes me want to help change happen.

7. She is afraid to take a bath.

8. I wish I could remember the name of that flowery lotion my grandmother used to give her every Christmas.  And I wish I had someone to ask that would know.

9. I worry about my Stepdad being sad and tired.

10. I worry about my Stepdad getting hurt and me not knowing.

11. I wonder how much of what I say she understands.

12. I wonder if I offend her by babying her.

13. I  wish I had taken better notes about my family history.

14. I wish I really knew when all this started – so hard to tell.

15. I worry about when the next shoe is going to drop.

16. I think about how she would not want to be this way.

17. I worry that she is frightened and she can’t express it.

18.  I’m scared to death it’s going to happen to me.

On the other hand, I am still able to be grateful because:  (whew, glad some gratitude came through)

1. I love it when I have what seems like a tiny a breakthrough with her.

2. I am happy when she smiles her old smile.

3.I love to be silly and make her laugh (when I use Three Stooges type humor it cracks her up).

4. I can tell she enjoys changing the bed sheets with me.  Especially if I’m silly while we’re doing it.

5. She’s still my Mom in there.

6.  I love that she said  really sweet things to me that day a year ago when I did her hair for her, when she was better able to comprehend and talk.

7. My stepdad is solid as a rock, and I love him for it.

8. I’m lucky that she lives close now so I don’t worry even more.

9. I can have these tiny moments of joy with her to always remember.

Thanks for reading.

Reason to Think. Gratitude Experiment: Day 30

Today I learned very sad news about an old school friend who lost her son to suicide this morning. He was only 16. On the outside, this handsome young man seemed to be a kid that had absolutely everything going for him. My heart aches for their family and my stomach is weak at very the thought.

Though I do not know details about events leading up to this tragic event, it makes me want to stand on my little soap box for a bit about depression.

Depression is real. It exists. It is not made-up or imagined.  Clinical anxiety and depression are neurological disorders, and are due to an imbalance of chemicals, such as serotonin, in the brain.  It cannot be wished away.

Our society as a general rule does not take depression seriously and tends to paint it with the biased brush of weakness.  This is mainly because it is misunderstood. And when people don’t understand, they can often jump to conclusions, just like in politics or anything else. But depression can happen to anyone, big or tall, male or female, old or young, weak or strong.  It can happen for a short time or it can happen for a long time. There are many hereditary factors as well as external factors that can affect the odds of someone experiencing depression.

According to MedScape.com, as many as two thirds of people with depression do not realize that they have a treatable illness and do not seek treatment. And only 50% of those diagnosed with major depression receive any kind of treatment at all.  Until it is better understood by the public and even health providers, the stigma will continue to outweigh the benefits of diagnosis and treatment.

It is important to note that depression is very common in teenagers, as well as adults. Suicide, most often a result of depression, is the third leading cause of death among people aged 15 to 24 years old and the eighth leading reported cause of death in the United States.  Male teenagers are much more often successful at suicide attempts.  According to Wikipedia, American males between the ages of 20 and 24 have a suicide rate that is seven times higher than that of women.

For teenagers, changes in behavior, friend choices, academics and attitude must be more than noticed.  They must also be addressed head-on, with professional help if needed.

I must also note that therapy is very misunderstood by society.  Participating in psychotherapy is not a sign of weakness. Actually it is quite the opposite.  It requires a willingness to dig deep into self, and to understand complex patterns of thinking. It’s for those with the type of grit necessary to turn their own heavy handed mirror inward and accept themselves, flaws and all. And as a reward, students of therapy get to grow by leaps and bounds from the knowledge gained.

Today, while I am truly saddened for my friend and her family’s great loss and the sorrowful days ahead, I am thankful for the knowledge that depression is slowly becoming more understood by our society.

My Kimono Won’t Close. Gratitude Experiment: Day 28


My husband uses the term ‘open kimono’ to describe my transparent ways.  It’s because I’m not physically able to tell you one thing and really mean another, even if I tried really hard.  And why I would really suck as a salesperson selling anything that I didn’t believe in.

It explains why women who host home trunk show clothing parties, jewelry open houses, or cooking gear parties can’t stand it when I’m one of the guests.  Because everyone there knows that I’ll tell you if you look 30 pounds heavier in the latest trendy vest or if you look like you’re drowning in the latest fashion-forward floor-length dress.  Usually ten minutes in, guests realize that I’m someone who will give them an honest opinion despite its potential impact to a bottom line.

Urbandictionary.com defines the ‘open kimono’ phrase as: (adj.) – business marketing plan that allows consumers to know what’s behind the entire operation, with no secrets kept inside the proverbial kimono.

Some say the phrase dates back to feudal period of Japanese history, when warriors or adversaries would open their kimonos as an offering of trust to show they had no hidden weapons.

My open kimono explains why those who are friends with me know right where they stand with me at any given moment.  I don’t attempt to hide joy, worry, appreciation or aggravation. (I’m actually not sure if I would be physically able to.) I’ll tell you if you’ve hurt my feelings or upset me and I will be completely honest about it.  I’ll also make sure you know if you’ve touched my heart.

I cry at school plays, I cry at weddings, and I cry when I sing Amazing Grace because it reminds me of my grandmother who cried when she sang that song.  I still cry when I say goodbye to my parents after a trip back home. And sometimes I cry when I tell a happy story that makes my heart swell.  And I’m okay with all of it. Even though tears make stoic types uneasy, I know that letting my guard down allows me to tap into depths of emotion that left untapped could make me stale.

Sometimes I think about closing my kimono a little more often.  But then I remember what a fleeting gift this life of mine is.  So why waste time not getting to what’s real when it could all change tomorrow.

I realize this is who I am, open kimono and all.  And for that I am grateful.

When I grow up. Gratitude Experiment: Day 26

I want to be like my neighbor when I grow up. He lives across the street from me. He and his wife raised all of their children in that house.  Their kids now live in various states, with children of their own.  I think he is very close to 90 years old.

He yells ‘Hi neighbor!’ to me from across the street every time he sees me. He calls me by the wrong name sometimes but that just makes me smile all the more. I have never seen him unhappy.

I have to speak  loudly when we chat because he is very hard of hearing and has Meniere’s disease, an inner ear disorder that affects balance and hearing. Many afternoons you can see him jogging or riding his bike around our neighborhood. He tells me that he thinks if he just keeps active maybe he can jiggle things around enough up there in his head enough that it will work itself out.  He also just quit skiing black runs about four years ago. For real. (I’m doing good to ski blue runs.)

When we have big snows, he uses his snow blower to remove snow from our entire cul-de-sac’s sidewalks. And sometimes he does all of our driveways too (we live in a small cul-de-sac thank goodness).

He has a killer old red sports car that he drives every clear day.  I can hear its engine rumble as he zooms off each morning with his hat on that reminds me of the one Gilligan wore on Gilligan’s island.

On trash pickup days if I’m gone after the truck as come, he returns my trashcan to the back of my driveway for me.  And he does this for all of us. He also brings us all a jar of home-made jelly from his church sale during the holidays.

He has a compliment for me every single time I talk with him.  And he calls me when he needs to know how to do something on his computer, always ever so thankful for my help.

Today I am grateful that I get to live by this great guy who provides me with a wonderful example of how to live life. I hope I can be like him when I grow up.

Breakfast Club Flashback. Gratitude Experiment: Day 25

Today as I sat waiting in the high school parking lot to drop off my son’s tennis equipment before he left for a tennis match, I was transported to another world.  Actually back to my world back in high school.  And the world according to the Breakfast Club movie in 1985.

This movie has been hailed as one of the greatest high school films of all time, by John Hughes (God rest his fantastic movie making soul).  And the song – “Don’t You Forget About Me,” that instantly reminds my generation of scenes from the movie that have stayed with us since.

The movie follows  five students—Allison Reynold (Ally Sheedy),  Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez), John Bender (Judd Nelson), Brian Johnson (my favorite Anthony Michael Hall),  and Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald) as they surprisingly find common ground with each other throughout a single day of detention on a Saturday.  Each student represented a different clique or stereotype within the school.  If you haven’t seen it, rent it.

Watching the disbursement of high schoolers on a Friday after school took me right there. I watched each stereotype pass the front of my car. During a phase when I am feeling a little old and thinking things are so very different, I suddenly realized things really didn’t seem that different. Had nothing really changed except for the fact that they each had a cell phone and ATM card in their pocket?

The ‘Jock’s (although in this case both male and female) were gathered on the sidewalk high-fiveing each other.  The ‘punk’ hard edge type kids were all walking alone with a jolted gate, looking very guarded. I even saw one bump into a jock, then the jock got upset and held his hands out just like in the movies (if only he had been wearing a letter jacket), then the punker extended his hand and they shook hands and did a “bro” hug.  I should have been filming as it was stereotypical perfection.

Then I also watched as the many ‘princesses’ dialed for their rides exhaustedly while flipping their hair in frustration and simultaneously watching peripherally to see who was checking them out.  Then came the ‘brainiacs’/nerds as I watched them attempt to talk to the cute girl jocks while the huge guy jocks with gelled hair stood to the side fanning their feathers.  They didn’t stand a chance but I was rooting for them.  And I sadly watched a ‘misfit’ walk out to her car alone.

Maybe they will all be in detention together one day and bond over their similarities, but I doubt it.  More likely, they will all find themselves in different cubicles of the same corporate world and bond over the lack of sunlight.  Sorry, that was dark.

Today I am just grateful that the world isn’t really racing ahead as fast as I thought.  And that makes me happy.

Global positioning gratitude. Gratitude Experiment: Day 24

The other day my son asked me how people used to get around before Global Positioning Systems, or GPS.  I’ve gotten so accustomed to relying on a GPS to help me find my way, I actually had to think about it for a while.

I told him that  for years we used to look a lot of things up on MapQuest and print out directions to take with us before we left .  And before that, we made sure the car was stocked with maps of whatever state we were crossing or city we were in. I remember driving across the country for two days with at thick  notebook of maps for each state we crossed.  And I’m pretty sure we padded a lot more time into car trips in case we got lost.

Just the other day I found a stack of car maps in my garage and couldn’t figure out what to do with them.  I didn’t have the heart to throw them away.  I’m sure there’s some kind of craft project I could do with them, if I was crafty.  Wallpaper the dining room with them?  That could be cool.  And come to think of it, should maps be saved in case there is an Apocalypse and we lose power to map by computer?  Something to think about.  Clearly, we take computerized mapping for granted.

All who know me realize that calling me geographically challenged is an understatement, so I am especially reliant upon my GPS.  One of my dear friends who I have known since second grade is equally challenged in this area.  Back in college, we were known to entirely miss highway exits and end up an hour out of the way — sometimes in the wrong state — before we realized.  We went off of memory for some road trips, and that was a dangerous prospect when the two of us were in a car together. Did I really just admit that?  Yes.

I used to call another dear old friend my “Geographical Yoda” because if I was lost  anywhere in my home town, I could call her and she could direct me by phone.  She was my OnStar before OnStar existed.  And I didn’t even drive a Cadillac.

I think of the generations who have never known mapping any other way and I am glad that I can read an old fashioned map (for the most part).  But today I am ever so grateful for my GPS.

A Bittersweet Solstice Approaches. Gratitude Experiment: Day 23

Bittersweet defined is a combination of both bitter and sweet – a feeling that is both happy and sad at the same time. This familiar emotion finds its way back to me each year, just as the first signs of Autumn find their way back to us all.

It’s my favorite time of year and always has been, flooding me with memories of autumns past.  The smells of damp leaves and firewood, the crisp air that fills my lungs, the glorious colors that open my eyes to nature each year, and the sound of fallen leaves underfoot.  My very favorite season.

The approaching September equinox called out to me today, as it does each year when the summer’s curtain draws to a close.  Letting me know that fall is approaching and the time for winter is near. It’s sad to see the summer end, but also sweet to see the cycle complete.

There are two equinoxes every year – one in September and one in March.  When the length of day and night is almost exactly equal all over the world, with seasons opposite on either side of the equator.

Derived from Latin, the word equinox means “equal night.” I explained this to my kids as I drove each one to school this morning, and as I do each year when the sun on the horizon nearly blinds me as if to awaken me from a summer’s sleep.

The autumn equinox happens each year, the moment the sun crosses the equator, always on September 22nd, 23rd or 24th. On any other day throughout the year, our planet tilts away or toward the sun.  But not on each equinox, when the sun shines more directly upon us than any other days of the year, as if to remind us of our smallness in the universe.

Thirteen years ago on September 22nd, just before the autumnal equinox, my sister crossed over and left this world, just as the sun crosses over the equator.  The sun was blinding her way that day, or maybe calling her toward it. It was also my mother’s birthday.

I’m really not sure what God and the universe had in mind that day, but I’m determined not to let it zap the gratitude out of me as I gear up for this month’s memories, filled each year with emotions, both happy and sad.

When I see the sun each morning so boldly reminding us of its presence near the horizon, I know it is a bittersweet reminder for me to plant the seeds of both appreciation and caution for all that is. Today I am grateful for the sun and all that she reminds me to be thankful for.

Gratitude – the Linchpin to our Reality? Gratitude Experiment Day 18

I can honestly say that after doing this gratitude experiment for 18 days straight, my attitude is definitely different than before I started. I thought about this in the shower today.  (Actually that’s where most of my blog entry ideas start.)  I’m by no means some kind of transformed person all of a sudden.  But I can tell you that being grateful is enabling me to more effortlessly start with a positive reaction to things instead of jumping to a negative.  As a result, my clients have been easier to deal with, my family and life in general.

Don’t worry, a) I’m not going to give you any more detail about my personal hygiene and b) I’m not going to get all metaphysical on you.  However,  I’m going to go out on a limb here and give you some background as to how this works – how gratitude can affect you and the universe around you, through the law of attraction. Feel free to log out now if the new-ageness of this all sounds too ‘out there.’  But I challenge you to bear with me.

This concept really isn’t new at all.  And trust me, Oprah and The Secret did not discover this idea.  The law of attraction dates back to the early 1900s and has been studied by hundreds of scientists since.  Many books have been written about it and it is at the core of many other self-help concepts though often disguised by different buzzwords.

It boils down to this:  the belief that “like attracts like” and by focusing on positive thoughts (such as gratitude), you attract positive in your life.  Transversely, if you focus on negative thoughts (what you don’t have, what you want to change, what bugs you), you attract negative.  There is much more to it, but that’s it in a nutshell.  You can look at this (as many do) and say that it is easily explained by the theory that positive thinking makes you more motivated, more aware and thus more open to opportunities that present themselves.  Either way you look at it, positive results are still the outcome, so why fight it.

The concept is based on the belief that you are the creator of your reality.  As such, you are also the creator of what you think your limitations are (even though most of the time these are driven by outside influences, and often from parents who didn’t realize they were doing it).

For example, my mom used to joke that I was not good at math (not as mean as it sounds; thank goodness I rocked at Language Arts – or English as it was called before the world of political correctness). I remember this all the way back to fourth grade and it stuck with me.  And guess what I joke about all the time with people when I get stumped without a calculator?  I usually say “Sorry, I’m a Journalism major, we don’t do math.”  That always gets a chuckle, but what if I hadn’t been somewhat programmed to believe that?  I probably would not be a mathematician, that’s for sure.  But I bet I would have put more effort toward learning math related concepts for the many school years that followed.

As another example, let’s say I’m in a grumpy mood and focusing on something that really annoys me as I am opening an email from a client.  Do you think there might be a chance that my mindset could more easily allow me read into the short wording of our back and forth emails on a project and take them the wrong way?  You bet.  But if I am in a positive place (which is automatic if you are staying aware of your thoughts and focusing on gratitude), positive results will most likely ensue.

The absolute best documented and most famous example of the law of attraction is the placebo effect, commonly used in medication trials. Even in expertly designed double-blinded studies, more positive results are almost always documented from patients who expect something positive to happen compared to the ones who didn’t.

Oh, and have you ever heard someone say that they have the worst luck ever?  I cringe when I hear it even though I used to say it.  Sometimes you’ll hear someone list all the bad things that have happened to them related to their car or their work, etc.  And it really does seem like one thing after another happens to them on the same day or in the same month.  That is the perfect example of focusing on the negative and producing more negative results.  Kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Trust me, I’ve done it.

So how does gratitude fit into all of this?  Simply put, being thankful for what you have gets you to the place of willingness to let new things come into your life (instead of Jedi-mind tricking yourself out of things with negative thoughts). Thus, gratitude helps you feel positive so you can attract more positive. (Translation: If you have a fender bender, you focus on not being hurt or worse, rather than the damage to your car or the stupidity or lack of insurance of the other driver.)

There is much more to it (visualization, asking the Universe for what you want vs what you don’t want, etc.).  Motivational speakers like Wayne Dyer swear by it (and have made millions discussing it).   One of my favorite books of all time is The Power of Intention which helped shift my thinking several years ago at a time when I really needed a shift in mindset.  (I contributed to Wayne’s millions and have bought this book for many people.  Tip:  all of his other books are just a different spin on this same concept).

So however you want to look at it, it’s certainly worth thinking about.  It works.

So, as cheesy and sentimental as it sounds, today I am grateful for gratitude, an open mind and the world of positive outcomes that are possible.