The January that Wasn't

Somehow I keep losing the month of January.

It showed up on my calendar and everything. I got invited to the party of good intentions and fresh beginnings and I made plans to attend but then, I don't know, I got distracted or I couldn't find the right outfit to wear or something and before I knew it I'd missed January.

At least that's what happened this year.

Last year I came down with influenza B on New Year's Eve. Or was it influenza A? It doesn't matter. It sucked. A lot. From that I developed a secondary bronchial infection and just as I was getting over that my cat attacked me. It wasn't a great beginning and I spent all of January 2013 in a pharmaceutically induced fog. For the entire month I was unable to do anything but read. While on the surface that doesn't seem bad, my brain was so addled by drugs I can't remember anything about the books I read. Not even the titles.

I was looking forward to a healthier and more productive January 2014, ready to greet the new year with hopeful anticipation of good things to come. But then, all of a sudden, I'm not sure why, I came down with a touch of indifference.

Ennui? I don't think so. Although the January Blues seem to be a thing, I don't really think that was what was happening. Granted, I've never been a huge fan of January. It has always seemed like the most moody and pessimistic of months.

Source: Google Images

I typically manage to tolerate it fairly well though. The best thing ever to come out of a January, for me, was Anna nineteen years ago, and even she wasn't supposed to arrive until later. Maybe in her fetal state she knew January would be in need of some joy and charm and sunshine so she decided to make her entrance earlier than anticipated. Since then she's always brightened the start of a new year in an otherwise disconsolate month. Anyway, the point here is, I don't think I was depressed.

I wasn't sad. Although I didn't wake up with my typical excitement and exuberance about what the day would bring, I did get out of bed every day. I showered. Washed my hair. I had no trouble working. Nothing seemed particularly gloomy but nothing seemed particularly funny either. I simply felt uninspired.

It started to bother me a little and I began to worry that I was going to settle into being dull, humorless, prosaic, and uninteresting. I wondered if I would have to retake the Myers-Briggs test and come up with a whole different personality type to fit the new boring me. I considered that this change would require a complete overhaul of my wardrobe to attire that is much more practical and better suited for my age. And I was going to have to repaint the interior of my house. Goodbye cheery yellow walls. So long purple counter tops. Get lost red couches. Ohmygod...I was becoming taupe.

Thank goodness I was too lifeless to over react.

Except I did. Which, if I'd stopped to think about it was a pretty good indication my dispassionate personality change was only temporary. And maybe not bad at all. What if it was just something my psyche needed to do. Perhaps, like all things in nature, my personality needed to go dormant for a while to rest and recharge. Maybe everyone goes through these phases and I'm just too narcissistic to notice.

I don't know.

Nevertheless,  February came a long and like Punxatawney Phil, I poked my head out of hibernation, looked around, noticed the sunshine and somehow started to feel like myself again. Although I find The Holy Day of Romantic Obligation in February to be contrived and silly, yesterday I found myself making heart shaped cookies, dancing to the radio, and laughing at the quirkiness of life. My mother called and told me she has a new boyfriend and all seemed right with the world.

I can't say exactly what happened. And I'm not sure if I'd even categorize it as good or bad. It just is. But maybe that's the point. Perhaps all life asks of us sometimes is that we just go with what is for a while. Not what we expect it to be, or want it to be, or even think we need it to be. Maybe life just asks us to trust what is, knowing when the time is right it will nudge us out of hibernation, turn on the radio, and once again ask us to dance.

The Birthday List

This week I sent an email to a casting agency expressing my interest in participating as a movie extra. To be clear, I don't make a habit of writing to casting agencies asking for the opportunity to be an extra. The truth is that I've never even considered it before. For one thing, I'm a lousy actress and for another, I'm just not much of a movie fan. Having a part in a movie, however insignificant, never really occurred to me until recently.

The closest I've ever come to this level of fame and fortune is when I lived in Southern California and a friend called to say she had signed me up to audition for Wheel of Fortune with her. I went along gamely and naively with no idea what I was in for. The process for being chosen as a contestant was to sit in a room with a bunch of people at little elementary school desks with paper copies of puzzles to solve. If you passed the first level you were promoted to the next level and on and on to stardom. I think some of the higher level challenges included jumping up and down and acting super excited. I probably could have passed those but having never watched the show I was a bit vague on the puzzle concept and was eliminated in the first round. I sat around waiting for her as she kept moving through the ranks of contestant selection. She made it to the top tier although she was eight months pregnant and I still cringe at the thought of her jumping up and down. In the end I'm not sure she ever got called to be on the show.

(Source: Google Images)

Now that I think about it that story really has nothing to do with being a movie extra.

Anyway, I sent the email to the casting agency and pointed out that I'm particularly talented at exiting a building and walking down the street. That seems to be what a lot of movie extras do. Walk out of buildings and down streets. I'm pretty sure this is my latest calling.

Whether I'll actually get the opportunity to be filmed while leaving a building and walking down the street remains to be seen. But I took the initiative to inquire because it is 2014 and just before my birthday in December I got this crazy idea to ask others to help me compile a list of new, different, and stretching experiences I can accomplish in the coming year. Being an extra in a movie was one of several interesting suggestions.

I didn't end up getting a lot of responses to my request for ideas. I'm not terribly concerned about the number of items on the list, though. I'm happy with what I got and appreciate those who invested time and brain power in helping me compile the list. I believe if I attempt to fulfill the offerings I will accomplish the goal of expanding my horizons somewhat. In some cases I will probably end up looking a little foolish. But perhaps no more so than failing out of the first level of solving Wheel of Fortune puzzles.

Here is the list:

• Learn to play an instrument I love.
• Learn to throw a Frisbee.
• Hike Mt. Elbert.
• Take a foreign language course.
• Be an extra in a movie.
• Take Irish Step Dance lessons.
• Attend several services at the House for All Sinners and Saints church in Denver.
• Take a road trip by myself.
• Learn to skip a stone.
• Write letters to each of my children saying why they are my favorite.
• Stop and talk with a homeless person.

There were three additional ideas that are still under consideration:

• Spin a globe with my eyes closed, stop it with my finger, and visit the place where my finger lands. I love this idea but am thinking I might alter it to a map of Colorado. I'm not sure I would have the funds nor the wherewithal to go anywhere my finger landed. I mean...what if it landed on Afghanistan or the middle of the Arctic Ocean?

• Sing a solo. As much as I love singing I, weirdly, have terrible stage fright. Speaking in front of groups presents no problem for me but singing creates paralyzing anxiety. I have, in fact, performed a couple of solos in my life. They were terror inducing experiences. I haven't decided if I want to try again.

• Let my hair go to it's natural color. This is the least likely suggestion to make the final list. I don't think the suggesters were actually serious about it but whether they were or not, I'm not sure I'm adding it. For one thing, my hair hasn't been it's natural color since I was 12 or something. For another, I'm not sure I'm ready for the whole grey thing just yet. It sounds terribly boring. I'm still thinking about it.

So that's my list. Some of the suggestions sound fun. Some sound scary. Some sound intimidating. Some sound interesting. And most are things I'd never have thought of on my own which is exactly what I wanted.

I don't anticipate being successful at everything on the list. I just anticipate giving them each a try. At the very least by this time next year I hope to be able to say

E _  _ e _  _ e _  _e       i _       t _ e      B e  _  _    T e _  _ _ e _!

I Need Your Help!

My birthday is next week. And since I don't plan to live until I'm 110 I'm pretty sure I've lived more than half my time on this earth. That isn't uncomfortable news. I don't necessarily want to live to 100. But I do, often, grow concerned that I'm not living my days as fully as I could.

It has been a lifelong issue for me. I remember turning 13 and feeling that life was just getting away from me. Because, you know, that's an issue for most 13-year olds.

Anyway, in response to my lifelong quest to live life as fully as possible I've come across an idea. But I need help.

The idea is this. I'm calling upon all my friend and family to help me come up with 55 ways that I might stretch my boundaries and grow in the coming year.This notion comes from an article I read about a woman who, on her 31st birthday saw a Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop and decided to ask her friends and family for 31 ways that she could sample the flavors of life.

I fell in love with the idea.

The reason for asking others to help with the project rather than come up with my own 55 ideas is that I might only choose things I'm good at or comfortable with. By asking others for their ideas I can compile a list of things I might not think of. Plus 55 things is a lot! Most importantly, I am attracted to the idea that by accomplishing the goals others set for me, I am taking on a little piece of who they are and understanding what is important to them.

To get your creative juices flowing here are a few examples from the inspirational article:

• Write down all your blessings.
• Perform at an open mic night.
• Participate in Walk for the Cure.
• Go to a city meeting on a political issue.
• Write a children's story.
• Take a helicopter ride.
• Learn German and visit Germany.
• Start one day at 4 am on purpose.
• Use only one hand for an entire day.

So here is what I'm asking. Please join me in compiling my list of 55 flavors by offering your ideas for goals I can work toward in the coming year. The ideas can be simple or complex, expensive or cheap, silly or profound. Be creative! After I get the list together I will post it on my blog and write about my progress and experiences. 

I will consider any and all suggestions but keep in mind, you can't suggest I take a pole dancing class. I've already done that. And you can't suggest I start a PhD program. I've already done that. And you can't suggest I turn my hair pink. I've already done that.  And you can't suggest I wear the cutest flowered combat boots on the planet. Steve already gave me those for my birthday.

Aren't these the best boots in the world??

But you can suggest a myriad of other things. And if you offer a suggestion we can do together...all the better!

I'll take suggestions in whatever way you want to offer them. If you have my phone number, text or call  me with your idea. If you are my Facebook friend or Twitter follower, post it there. If you have my email, send it that way. Or leave your idea in the comments of this blog. (If you leave a comment, please make sure to tell me who you are.)

Thanks for joining me on this fun little journey of growth and experience.  I am so excited to see what happens!

Ready....go!

Making Assumptions

What's that saying about making assumptions?

Last week I decided to put a pink streak in my hair. Well, it was supposed to be a pink streak. It ended up being a pink splotch. But still, I thought it would be fun so I did it. In retrospect I realize I probably should have found out how long pink dye in blond hair would last before I committed to the splotch. I didn't think about that at the time.

I haven't done anything crazy to my hair for a while now. Having admitted my addiction to color changing chemicals I've been very rational and grown up about my hair recently. I have resisted the desire to make drastic color changes. Until Saturday. When I had a relapse. There I was, home with a free hour and a tube of fuchsia dye in the linen closet. Temptation overtook me. This happened.

It was supposed to be a subtle hot pink strip that just sort of peeked through the blond. Instead it ended up looking a little like I had suffered a head injury.  But, I was late for a party so I didn't have time to worry about it.

I found it interesting that hardly anyone at the party mentioned the bright pink clump of hair on the side of my head. Granted many who were in attendance know me well enough they probably weren't surprised. I'm sure some people couldn't say they liked it so they just chose not to say anything. And it was a pretty polite and conservative group so I wouldn't have expected any of them to say, "What the (insert expletive here)?" 

One relatively young man did say he thought a lot of people would assume a woman my age had dyed her hair pink in an effort to cling to youthfulness. But he added that he knew me and figured I had done it, 'just because.' He is right. I did it just because. Just because I could. Because it was Saturday and I had a free hour and a tube of fuchsia hair dye in the linen closet. And because I'm an addict.

I thought a lot about what he said though. He is right. A lot of people who don't know me would think I had done it in a desperate attempt to look young and hip. Let's face it. If I were going for young and hip I would have changed my hair and clothing style to something a lot more edgy.

Nevertheless, his comments made me think about how often we make assumptions about people.  As if, by mere observation we can actually know something about someone. I'm pretty sure we can't know something about someone unless we actually know the someone. But that doesn't seem to stop us from assuming.

I wanted pink hair because I could. Just that simple.

We all do it. We all make assumptions about people based on what we see. We assume things about people who are fat and skinny and young and old. We make assumptions based on skin color, accent, mannerism, style of dress and a myriad of other arbitrary criteria. Unless we know a person, though, we've no place making assumptions about them.

I'm ashamed to admit that I've made bad initial assumptions about some of the best people I know. Neither size, shape, nor color make the person. It's what can't be seen that truly matters.

I didn't end up loving my fuchsia clump but it was a fun experiment. I'm now conducting a fun experiment trying to get rid of it. I'm always hopeful that I will continue to have hair in that spot even as I try a variety of things to bleach it out. Instead of the bright shock of fuchsia, I currently look like I got a wad of pink cotton candy stuck in my hair.

I can't say I've learned to be more rational about hair color from this experience. I haven't. But I can say it has made me think about how often I make wrong assumptions about people. And about how making those assumptions keeps me from offering grace and kindness and compassion. Without grace and kindness and compassion we can't make this world a better place.

Assume grace.

Crying in Wal-Mart

I'm really not that crazy. I mean, yes, I'm a little bit crazy. But who isn't?

In fact, I'm not even sure crazy is the real issue. So I burst into tears in the middle of a store. What's the big deal?

(Source: Google Images)

For starters I had to go to Wal-Mart. That alone is enough to make a person cry. I typically don't go to Wal-Mart for a number of reasons, including concern for social justice issues and their general business values. Not to mention the overall weirdness of the place. But the other day I needed to go to Wal-Mart for an item I couldn't seem to find anywhere else. I was determined to get in and out as quickly as possible and headed toward my goal item with great intentionality, zipping past dawdling shoppers and short cutting through clothing racks. I got where I needed to be and started to scan the shelves. In a matter of moments a mother and a little girl, somewhere around 3-years old, came into the isle. They interacted sweetly for a bit and then the girl spied something she wanted. She asked for it. Mom said no. She asked again. Mom said no again. They did this for a while before the little girl lost composure and started crying and begging for whatever it was she wanted.  The mother never lost her patience but kept saying no.

That is when my crazy kicked in. I had to leave. Immediately. I had to walk away from their interaction because without warning I started to cry along with the little girl. Fortunately I wasn't wailing the way she was but I had to ground myself emotionally to keep from saying to the young mother, "Buy her what she wants. You don't understand how little time you have left with her. Soon she'll be gone to college and you'll be doing this alone. It goes by so fast." 

Obviously I didn't say that to the woman. For one thing it probably would have frightened her to have a tear-streaked-middle-aged woman she's never seen before telling her what to do with her child. Not to mention she was doing the right thing by not giving in. But my instantaneous reaction to their exchange made one thing clear.

It is time for Anna to come home for a little while.

Nevertheless, I made my way to the checkout trying not to look too off-balance as I attempted to regain my composure. I wanted in line for a near eternity as the cashier examined the fine print of every single coupon provided by the customer in front of me. Every. Single. Coupon. Every word. Every date. Because God forbid Wal-Mart might lose thirty-five cents by honoring an expired coupon. But that's beside the point.

I eventually made my purchase and left the store. By that time I was nearly back to normal but it made me think about why I felt the need to rush out of view because I had been blindsided by my emotions. Does crying because I miss my daughter really make me crazy?

I've always been one who cries easily. My mother made me stop watching Lassie when I was little because she got tired of me crying at the end of every episode. Although, in retrospect, I'm not sure making me watch Alfred Hitchcock was such a great idea.

Anyway, my Wal-Mart experience made me wonder why we, as a culture, are so afraid of tears. Why do we apologize for crying publicly? Assume it is a sign of weakness? And experience embarrassment and discomfort when someone sees us cry?

I think we've got it wrong. I don't think the intensity of missing my daughter when I saw that young mother and her little girl makes me weak or crazy. I don't think my tears indicate some emotional imbalance.

I think it makes me human.

Rather than hide my tears from view, maybe I should have just celebrated what they mean. That I miss the young woman with whom I spent years building a close and intimate relationship. That I recognize the speed with which time goes by and the importance of living intentionally and joyfully. That life is precious and fragile and fleeting.

I'm not saying I'm just going to walk around crying all the time. And I don't feel any compelling need to watch old Lassie TV shows. But if you should see me crying in Wal-Mart, don't assume I'm crazy or imbalanced or just hate Wal-Mart so much it brings me to tears. Just understand.

I'm human.

Just Call Me Kip

Sometimes I hear people of my generation express their concern that technology is contributing to the demise of relationships by removing face-to-face contact. I disagree. In some ways technology has enhanced my relationships. I have no desire to return to the 'good old days' before the advent of cell phones and the Internet. In fact, I'm sort of the opposite.

I love technology.

(Source: Google Images)

 

Just call me Kip*.

 

This is not to suggest that I'm particularly savvy about the tech world. I'm not. But technology does afford me the opportunity to have a very short commute across the hall to my home office where I teach and connect with students almost entirely online. And through the magic of Facebook and Twitter I'm able to keep up with people I might otherwise lose contact with. Not to mention those people who just make me laugh on a regular basis. Some days Skype lets me see my sweet girl's face even though she's 400 miles away.

 

But what I love the most is the way silly group text messages keep my little family connected.

 

We've always been a pretty close family.When the kids were growing up we spent a lot of time together. And now some of our most favorite occasions are those when we are all together having deep conversation or laughing until our stomachs hurt. Sometimes both at the same time. Until recently, everyone lived at home, but lately they all decided to grow up and leave. This makes regular interaction a lot more challenging.

 

Our children are, of course, the generation who grew up with technology. They are able to keep up with rapid advances just fine. Steve and I grew up in a time when people thought the move from rotary dial phones to push buttons was a pretty big deal. We're a little slower to catch on. But we manage to hang in there.

 

After her recent fall break Anna and a friend drove back to college. By sending a group text to the rest of the family she was able to keep the other four of us informed on her whereabouts and the number of cows she could see. I'm not sure how, exactly, but somehow those updates sparked a lighthearted texting competition about who was 'Mom's favorite.' Criteria included who could make me laugh the most and who could make me cry the most.

 

For the record, there was no clear winner.

 

And another day Anna sent us a photo of some food from the college dining hall with a 'guess what this is,' prompt. Nobody got the right answer but the conversation that resulted from the question was pretty funny. Steve can be counted on to spell things incorrectly, insert non sequiturs, and throw in an obscene comment or two so the conversation never gets boring. We couldn't figure out what the food was. 

 

The guesses included broccoli and apple pie but it turns out the photo was of refried beans.

 

One of the more entertaining conversations came from a photo Parker sent of a sign that said, "Life is about using the whole box of crayons." At an earlier point when we had all actually, physically, been in the same place, Steve shared this quote with the family. He was being all deep and meaningful but Parker misunderstood and thought he said, "Life is about using the whole box of condoms." That alone was pretty funny. But then Parker saw the sign with the quote one day and sent a photo of it to the rest of the family and somehow things shifted to a revised version of the quote saying, "Life is about using the whole box of colored condoms." This created an immediate flurry of text messages to one another offering very colorful names for colored condoms.

 

Nothing like naming a condom 'Orgasmic Orange,' to keep a family connected.

 

Laughter is good for the soul.  And when our family connects, there is always a lot of laughter. Our children are, in the words of Kip, "like a flock of doves," scattering away from home a bit. But I feel blessed to live in a time when we can stay connected despite distance.

 

Charles turns 25 on Sunday. We can't all be in the same room to sing our traditional off-key "Happy Birthday" song. But, through the magic of cell phones we will still all be together.

 

I love technology.

 

Always and forever.

 

*In case you need a refresher on Kip's Wedding song:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERCzN91JicA





Git Along Lil Kitties

I've always thought the term 'herding cats' was funny.

(Source: Google Images)

 

I think I find it amusing because as person who has had a lot of cats over the years I know how silly that idea is. I love this commercial for that reason.

Someone should tell our dog, Sadie, she'll never be successful at herding cats.

As part Australian Cattle Dog, Sadie's instincts are to herd just about everything. She's giving it a real effort with the cats but I'm afraid it isn't working. Sadly, it's a little like watching our country's leadership (a term I am using very loosely!) at the moment.

Actually, that isn't true. My animals are doing a better job of negotiating than our elected officials.

Although none of the cats seem to appreciate Sadie's attempts to herd them in a certain direction, most are willing to find a way to coexist peacefully, if not in full agreement. The only one not on board is elderly, grey, grumpy, and largely impotent. Which makes him sound a lot like a Republican Senator, come to think of it.

Regardless, the negotiations are ongoing. Every day brings a new opportunity to figure out how to give and take a little bit. Sadie doesn't really want the cats to eat from her food dish. But, she's willing to share some with them if it makes things better overall. And the cats don't absolutely love it when she tries to sniff their backsides, but if she goes about it calmly they seem to understand it as a gesture of diplomatic understanding.

So far nobody has gotten mean or aggressive or ugly. Nobody has put a stop to our household in demand of their own way. In all, I've watched my pets behave in a civil and respectful way. Which is more than I can say for our federal government.

Granted, out national issues are more significant than species cohabitation. But really now. You'd think if a houseful of animals can do it, our elected officials could too.