Smalltown Me

"talk" radio, other b.s.

2010-07-29T18:00:00.000-07:00

The mainstream media is biased - that is what everyone says.

Especially when it tells you what you don't want to hear.

I understand why people think it, and even believe it, but all the same it's insulting.

Do not count me among the Mark Bellings and Jessica McBrides of this world, opining unapologetically to anyone who will bend an ear.

Ask Mr. Belling or any of his ilk what code of ethics he adheres to. He will probably laugh. He answers to no one. He is an entertainer. He spins marvelous yarns, part fact and part fiction, but extremely hard to unravel.

This is my code.

"Members of the Society of Professional Journalists believe that public enlightenment is the forerunner of justice and the foundation of democracy. The duty of the journalist is to further those ends by seeking truth and providing a fair and comprehensive account of events and issues. Conscientious journalists from all media and specialties strive to serve the public with thoroughness and honesty. Professional integrity is the cornerstone of a journalist's credibility. Members of the Society share a dedication to ethical behavior and adopt this code to declare the Society's principles and standards of practice."

This is a job I don't take lightly.

Talk Radio "personalities," bloggers, columnists serve a different purpose. Don't confuse the news-gatherers with the news-ponderers.

The singer

2010-07-09T19:35:00.000-07:00

Karen is a women I met one night in a bar.

It was Karen's 50th birthday.

A lot of people I know don't celebrate birthdays. But every birthday has been special for Karen, since she was diagnosed with breast cancer nearly three years ago. She's a breast cancer 'survivor,' she told me.

Karen was looking every bit the part of birthday girl in a zebra print halter dress when we met.

While she was waiting for her turn at the karaoke mic, she bore to me the tragedies of her life.

Before she was diagnosed with cancer, her brother and father had also been diagnosed. Her father died when she started chemotherapy. Her son, just a teenager, also had problems: spinal muscular atrophy.

"You have to have faith," she told me with conviction.

It was hard to imagine her sick and undergoing the draining chemotherapy treatments as she stood before me, vibrating with life. Her skin was sun-bronzed and blue eyes twinkling.

We continued to talk: I had no where to go and she had things to say.

She told me she liked singing -- always has.

Afraid to seem impolite for not contributing to the conversation, I finally spoke.

"I do too," I told her, "Just preferably in my shower."

She laughed, sending her wavy chin-length hair bouncing with cartoonish liveliness.

I was pretty sure Karen was of the opinion everyone should karaoke — especially those who had never done it before.

She's done it many times.

"And sung in weddings," she said.

Her voice is her gift, she told me. Her God-given gift. In that it was a gift from God, she felt duty-bound to share it.

I tried to imagine such a thought coming from any place other than the tummy of a hungry ego — but she seemed genuine.

I write for a living, which is, theoretically speaking, my "God given gift" but I certainly don't feel duty-bound to share it; or that it would be a disservice to mankind if I did not write articles about school board meetings and karaoke competitions.

"You never know when you are going to do something that could touch another person," she told me. "You could inspire people."

Why I dumped Facebook

2010-07-09T17:47:00.000-07:00

This article was published after I dumped Facebook, but it very nicely articulates the behaviors that I want to avoid.

WASHINGTON: Americans are increasingly obsessed with Facebook and many young women check their page even before using the bathroom in the morning, according to a poll.

Thirty-four per cent of the women aged 18 to 34 surveyed by Lightspeed Research for Oxygen Media said checking Facebook was the first thing they did in the morning, even before washing their face or brushing their teeth.

Twenty-per cent admitted they sneak a peek at Facebook during the night while 26 per cent said they get up in the middle of the night to read text messages.

Thirty-nine per cent of the 1,605 social media users aged 18 to 54 surveyed for Oxygen Media, a service of entertainment giant NBC Universal, in May and June described themselves as "Facebook addicts."

Fifty-seven per cent of the women aged 18 to 34 said they talk to people online more than face-to-face and 31 per cent said they feel more confident about their online persona than their real life one.

Sixty-three per cent of the young women said they use Facebook as a career networking tool, but 42 per cent said they did not think there was anything wrong with posting photos of themselves visibly intoxicated.

hiatus

2010-07-06T18:01:00.000-07:00

i love you my little blog, but i predict you will be disappearing in the near future.

Because everyone likes it when I write about personal stuff like drugs

2010-06-15T18:38:00.000-07:00

Not everyone believes in mental illness.

Anxiety, depression, paranoia -- these are merely the makings of the human mind.

Take deep breathes, try yoga, just "think positive".

"Suck it up, Sally!"

But it's really not that simple.

As someone whose been dealing with this over the past 10+ years, I've experienced the benefits and the drawbacks of getting medicated. But most of the time I took it for granted and led a life that has been even-keeled and successful enough.

Weaning off the medication (I'm on month two of 30 mgs now) made me reflect on what life can be like without it.

It's true that medication alone, is not the answer. There are other considerations.

If you are a person who can't deal with a lot of stress, getting into a high stress career would, naturally, not be the best option for you. Pursuing that lifestyle, an otherwise chemically-balanced person might find that they "need" medication to deal with it.

So the stressful world that we as humans have created is much to blame for the pharmaceutical windfall resulting from the sale of anti-stress and anxiety medications.

The same is true for anti-depressants.

But don't tell me they aren't needed -- that chemical imbalances are an imagined phenomenon.

Really? Then maybe hormonal imbalances aren't real either? Ever hear of PMS? I think there are a lot of women (and men) who would disagree that hormonal imbalances have no impact on a person's ability to function.

I have a deep desire to be med-free. But that desire might not be enough to ever make it happen -- lest I live my life with a magnified and unyielding version of PMS.

I believe there are things I can do to make it possible for me to manage my stress and depression -- improving my coping skills, exercising more (the natural way to produce endorphins) and refraining from lifestyle choices that could compromise my ability to manage stress and depression. In that case, my stress and depression would largely dictate my life.

Or I can compromise. Try to do what I can and supplement my efforts with an appropriate but not excessive amount of medication.

But unless you've truly experienced real depression, a deep, sometimes life-ending despair with no clear origin, you'd best not make broad generalizations.

Y is a very good question

2010-04-15T16:34:00.000-07:00

I ventured over to one of the two local YMCAs today to see what they have to offer. The last time I'd visited a Y was when I was in fifth or sixth grade so it's been a while.

A discounted membership at the Y is one of the few perks my employer affords so I thought I better at least check it out. It would be about $16/month cheaper than my current gym membership.

Meeting me at the check in desk was a very nice woman named Sheila. She gave me an abbreviated tour of the facility. I told her I didn't have children, so she need not educate me about all of the kid-friendly amenities the Y offers.

As we navigated the maze of gyms, studios, and locker rooms, I imagine my disdain was palpable as I bore witness to as assortment of conduct violations -- a pint-sized Y-member darting down a hallway, dripping chlorinated water all over the floors, some t'ween members assaulting a vending machine in a lobby area -- surely this was not civilized society.

I shuddered.

Picking up on my discomfort, the kind woman said:

"Perhaps you'd be interested in the other location," she said. "It's adult only."

I'll check that one out tomorrow.

making a dent

2010-03-31T17:07:00.000-07:00

• Make appointments
1. Physical
2. Dentist
3. Vision - could be spend-y, need more contacts AND glasses

• Investigate possibility of loan deferment

• Assess cord collections - what can be pitched?

• Sell books

• Drop off laptop with TWO so he can rebuild/fix

• Clean up photo collection

• Get used to the idea that this summer I need to go to the home of TBM & TWO to address any of my belongings that are lingering there.

After completing these tasks I can feel thoroughly accomplished and streamlined.

the list

2010-03-10T19:00:00.000-08:00

• Make appointments
1. OBGYN for annual
2. Physical
3. Dentist
4. Vision - could be spend-y, need more contacts AND glasses
5. Veterinarian - for Ella, not for me

• Investigate possibility of loan deferment

• !! Finish assignment ON A DEADLINE!

• !! Start thinking about wine fundraiser for orchestra. ON A DEADLINE!

• Sort papers

• Sell futon

• Collect gently used and infrequently worn clothes for Goodwill

• Assess cord collections - what can be pitched?

• Sell books

• Drop off laptop with TWO so he can rebuild/fix

• Clean up photo collection

• Get used to the idea that this summer I need to go to the home of TBM & TWO to address any of my belongings that are lingering there.

After completing these tasks I can feel thoroughly accomplished and streamlined.

state of mind

2010-03-10T17:58:00.000-08:00

sad dark dreary blah sleep apathy weather drain zap drip sun wine effort absent sleep sleep tasteless broke mentally physically gray roots age stranded stuck landlocked opposite of inspire withdraw hibernate disenchanted broke broke broke dependent stifle no focus meh love dog love family love friends leave me alone with my leaky ceiling and empty head everything a blur no courage to disappear empty empty empty bright flowers and blue oceans so blue and sun are calling hard to function independently of societal chains don't want leave sleep candy chocolate godiva yum

Atlas Shrugged

2010-02-15T15:54:00.000-08:00

I recently started reading "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand. It's a book that comes highly recommended, but I have stayed away from it because I prefer not to have my "pleasure reading" injected with an author's veiled philosophical and/or political view.

But here I go.

Wish me luck.

A new experience

2010-02-12T16:16:00.000-08:00

I just ate a Mediterranean dish from my grocer's freezer and it was tasty.

It contained a nine-grain orzo with beans, sautéed onions, diced tomatoes, and savory spinach packed with 12 grams of fiber. Topped with a cinnamon sauce, sweet apples, fontina cheese, and cranberries.

"Say What You Need to Say..."

2010-02-11T17:25:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: The following content may not be suitable for all audiences. (John Mayer fans).

When something is wrong in the world, people often blame the media. I propose, we all blame John Mayer.

Poor misunderstood John Mayer.

John Mayer recently apologized at one of his concerts for some (stupid) stuff he said that appeared in a Playboy article.

(No disrespect to "Heff" but I am pretty sure the bulk of the people who read what John Mayer said read it "second-hand" - like me - somewhere on the Internet.)

This is par for the course for Mr. Mayer - who likes the taste of his foot better than I like the taste of heavily frosted birthday cake.

Seriously, though, some of my friends like John Mayer (Trish) and I would have liked him too if he would only open his pie hole to deliver sweet little melodies.

When he first came out on "my" music scene (which, admittedly lags somewhat behind the rest of the world's) he was singing a song called "Real World."

I really liked it. I found him to be a clever wordsmith, a talented guitarist and in sum a musician with a lot of potential. (BTW, a ringing endorsement from me and a dollar will get you a double cheeseburger at McDonald's)

His conquests with some of my favorite leading ladies weren't a huge distraction from his music.

He went after the pretty petite brunettes first - Vanessa Carlton (a talented musician in her own right) and Jennifer Love Hewitt (supposedly his song "Your Body is a Wonderland" is about her. Talk about Too Much Information.)

His mouth, however, did become a distraction.

John Mayer's media interviews are what have secured his spot on the Asshole Hall of Fame.

His most recent interview in Playboy (where he talks WAY too explicitly about his ex Jessica Simpson and my favorite little pillar of strength and his most recent ex, Jennifer Aniston) is just more of the same.

The unapologetic (until recently) blunt, tell-it-like-it-is, casanova persona that he's taken on, in what he later admitted was an effort to be clever, has only made him look class-less; when at least musically, he WAS a class act.

Ironically, Hallmark uses one of his songs "Say" in it's commercials, so apparently they are able to separate the man from the music.

I on the other hand, think "Saying" is something John Mayer should do less of. He has recently vowed to cease talking to the press.

Truth be told, If he had never spoken to the press in the first place, I would probably have some of his CDs/MP3s, or gone to a concert.

But don't blame "the media" for your trouble, John Mayer.

You only have your own pie hole to thank.

GI Tract Day 1

2010-01-28T18:32:00.000-08:00

Fell off the wagon around 8 p.m. Felt like crap.

I think I am getting a cold and this is no time to worry about a flat belly. I need fluids, and fruits and orange juice and hot chocolate.

Sorry GI Tract. You may have to wait until spring or summer to try to be happy. I am not convinced that ginger root/cucumber/lemon/mint water and starving are the way to a happier GI TRACT.

But I will try to punish you less with caffeine and diet coke. I promise.

I went the whole day only drinking one.

Whatever floats your bloat

2010-01-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

Charmed is my favorite TV show; perhaps favorite TV show of all time. The series ended in 2006 after an 8-year run. Its about three modern witches - beautiful intelligent empowered females who (rarely to never cook and) save the world from demons, warlocks, and other evil on an almost daily basis.

Needless to say, (besides the never cooking thing) the lovely ladies of Charmed and I don't have a lot in common - or at least we didn't - until yesterday.

I am in the process of trying to learn and understand cooking and healthy eating. The first step in my process is learning about my GI Tract and doing a four day anti-bloat diet. Since I (imagine or )perceive myself to feel constantly bloated, I thought this would be a nice way to start.

The four day anti-bloat diet is not something one would try to sustain for long periods for several reasons 1) it's extremely boring; 2) it is somewhat calorically deficient.

Anyway, the menu items for the four-days were not items I had on hand. Things like ginger root, hard-pressed cold flaxseed oil, cheese... you get the picture. I felt like I was collecting ingredients for a potion like my Charmed friends.

I went to Pick 'n Save after work (10 p.m. - ish) with my four day grocery list (provided by my book). The items were listed by categories ("Produce," "Herbs and Spices," etc.) for my shopping ease.

But for someone who is familiar with only a few aisles of the enormous new Pick 'n Save (candy, soda and cereal) the task was daunting; it took about an hour.

Because the night staff is not all that knowledgeable beyond how to run their registers, my trip turned out to be an extremely dull scavenger hunt. The raisins were particularly evasive as were the "dried plums" which I later figured out were actually PRUNES.

I still have a few items left to collect, but I should be in business for Day 1 of a healthier GI Tract tomorrow. Wish me luck in my quest to vanquish bloat!

Get a Grip

2010-01-27T18:34:00.001-08:00

People like to laugh at me because I don't know how to cook.

I don't care.

Not usually. And not a lot if I do.

And why should I? I am a single woman and the world is rife with businesses waiting to take my money and give me food in a quick and convenient way. I never set out to be Martha Stewart and all evidence suggests I've been successful in achieving the opposite.

I don't know where to hang things in my house, or what combinations of fabrics and colors and candles and shelving are appropriate in a given space. I don't know tricks to get stains out of clothes, or clever things to do with towels. I don't know the names of the pots/pans and other "cooking" receptacles in my house, what quantity of anything they hold, how to use them, if they have teflon or why that matters.

This is my life and for better or worse I just don't give a damn about these things, but at the same time... I crave them.

I love when my mom sews for me and hems my pants; I admire her home - the way it's painted and decorated by her own hand; I always look forward to a dinner invitation, or Christmas or holidays. When I am at her house, (provided no one is mad at anyone else) I am comfortable. I am happy. I am secure.

My Mom (and Dad - yes he lives there too and helps out with stuff) has made a real home.

I, on the other hand, have made - at best - a VERY nice, and quite expansive storage space and - at worst - a domed and carpeted dumping ground. Even my dog can't tell the difference between taking a shit outside or in the house. Sometimes I feel like it doesn't make a difference.

I have excuses for the reasons why I do what I do, and some of them actually make sense otherwise I couldn't pull off such an existence for so long. "I won't be living here that long;" "I need the money for other things," "I am only one person, spending a lot of time cooking and a lot of money on food is a waste." "Nothing I own 'goes' together."

But in the last three months I have begun to see that I cannot sustain the weird, disjointed existence that has been the new norm. I also see that it would be beneficial for me to take some steps toward personal responsibility. You are happy to roll in the mud, if you are a pig. But if one day you are rolling around in the mud and you realize you aren't actually a pig - you probably want to get out of the mud.

And that is where I am at.

Except my mud is kind of like quick-sand.

The good news is, I think I've FINALLY grasped a rope and may be able to pull myself out before I turn 29.

Sure the rope might slip out of my hands a few times before I finally get my feet on solid ground, but at least I got a hand on it.

health 'issues'

2010-01-21T19:35:00.000-08:00

A medical organization in town has organized a women's health "issues" clinic to take place over a four week period during the doldrums of winter. The topics of the different "clinics" (which will occur in hour-long sessions) were selected by a PR team, lead by a director with questionable motives.

The "issues" that will be discussed over the four week period include urinary incontinence, heart disease, obesity, and ... cosmetic surgery? Yes. cosmetic surgery.

I understand how "body dismorphic disorder" could be a health issue - a mental health issue, or breast cancer - a legitimate health concern, but cosmetic surgery?

"Is it time for a fresh look?" the flyer asks. "This lecture offers a brief look at the history of facial rejuvenation and the evolution of state-of-the-art treatments, both surgical and non-surgical."

Aging.

I don't doubt that it is not fun - and not just in the ways it changes your appearance. I've seen its affects on those I love and soon enough I will feel it myself. However, let's not pretend that it is a 'disease' to be included in a clinic addressing real health issues. Cosmetic surgery is just that - cosmetic.

I Love This "Word"

2010-01-20T17:38:00.000-08:00

Augean stable

Better than resolutions

2010-01-18T15:08:00.001-08:00

Things I'd like to happen in my life this year but probably won't...

10. Dramatically reduce my consumption of diet Pepsi/Diet Coke products.

9. Do so much Yoga that I decide NEXT year I should teach a class.

8. Receive an encore for my debut performance in a karaoke bar.

7. Get engaged and start planning my wedding.

6. Make a new friend.

5. Make a difference in my community.

4. Find a satisfying AND high paying job.

3. Learn to play the guitar.

2. Wear skirts more often.

1. Visit Paris.

Know what your Pick'n

2010-01-14T14:49:00.000-08:00

A shiny new Pick 'n Save has opened in WB. It is wonderful. I have heard rumors about Pick 'n Saves that have bountiful salad, fruit and soup bars and now there is one less than five minutes away from work. Sorry Subway. I HEART the new Pick 'n Save and it's fabulous amenities. What is really nice about this salad and fruit bar is that located near the stainless steel buffet style counters is a comprehensive list of the available items and their origins. I know what state (or foreign country) that the food comes from. I'm fed and informed. Excellent. Five stars to the new PNS!

Note to world

2010-01-13T19:06:00.000-08:00

Dear Western World,

We have needed your help for a long time now.

We've long been an impoverished country, one of the world's poorest and least developed.

Thanks for finally noticing us.

Too bad it took an earthquake to get your attention.

Love,

Haiti

P.S. Good luck with that whole Iraq/Afghanistan thing.

Sensitivity is overrated

2010-01-13T19:01:00.001-08:00

Someone recently told me that I am "very" sensitive. I am not disputing the observation. In fact, I am writing about it, which can only mean one thing: it's true.

But just to be sure I got a second opinion from an old friend.

Me: Am I too sensitive?

OF: Well, let me put it this way: on a scale of 0 to 10, 5 being normal, you are a 7.

Me: A seven? That doesn't sound so bad.

OF: It's not if it's a scale of awesomeness that goes up to 7.

Unfortunately, he wasn't talking about a scale of awesomeness and a 7 was no good: it was two points higher than would would be considered "normal." And in psychological matters you REALLY want to strive for "normal" otherwise you get put on medication (oh, har har, I already am!) or institutionalized.

But, thanks to the tireless efforts of the worlds psychologists I have learned that I am "normal." I just have a "highly sensitive personality," which requires a little more maintenance to keep from going crazy.

I have a love/hate relationship with psychologists (and all others with a psych- attached to their professions) because 1) They have an answer for everything and 2) THEY HAVE AN ANSWER FOR EVERYTHING.

I really like answers, and being "diagnosed" as manic, anxious, depressed, or whatever, helps a person get an answer so they can accept the situation, adapt accordingly, and move on to (hopefully) have a full-ish life.

But with all of these "answers," people seem more like designer coffees than human beings. Some are black and some (like me) have one cup of cream and two shots of espresso.

I'd rather think life is simple. You order your coffee, you sit down, you drink it.

But in this life you sit down with the black coffee you THINK you ordered and find out there is all this other stuff in it. The "psych" people let you know what is actually IN your coffee and tell you not to be alarmed - it's OK, you just might need a Lactaid to drink it.

I guess I do feel better knowing some aspect of the medical community believes I don't need to be institutionalized - that being highly sensitive is an acceptable state of being that just needs to be managed.

That's the best you can hope for when you can't return the coffee.

Good Bye to Good Reads

2010-01-04T19:09:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I loved reading books - especially fiction. I could get swept away in a book and the hours would disappear. After high school, and (coincidentally?) around the time I started to take an interest in news writing, my interest in reading fiction (and writing it for catharsis) slowly diminished.

Writing with a purpose (news/non-fiction) to inform, seemed infinitely more important and more noble a cause than writing fiction. In turn, reading non-fiction or news publications, seemed a far more worthy investment of time.

I miss the days when I could pick up any old book, read it, and derive some enjoyment. I would get books from garage sales by no-name authors and hide away in my room and disappear into the pages.

Even though I still don't care for fiction books, I still enjoy going to book stores. Yesterday I stopped at Barnes and Noble. I wandered into the Fiction & Literature section, where if nothing else I knew I would find the old classic works for fiction, whose presence brings me comfort.

I picked up a few random books and read several back covers before realizing I had been audibly scoffing.

We are living in an age when anyone can do anything; "expertise" isn't determined by education, or skill, but merely the availability of the necessary equipment. Digital cameras have made more stay-at-home moms than I can count into amateur photographers charging people for their services; blogs have made people with opinions into "authoritative" sources of news.

While the book industry is harder to penetrate - even the determined novice can self-publish with a little bit of cash, and end up in a well-respected bookstore with a few friends behind the counter.

The reality is, we are living in a fast-food world. And while I am a fast food fan, I am not fond of a society that functions that way. Everything is prepared quickly, then consumed and trashed just as fast. Quality is an endangered species.

The day is gone when a book will stand on it's merits alone; it has to have commercial and retail value - what will reach the most people and make the most money in related merchandise? Here is your book deal.

The resulting tragedy is a ridiculous amount of similarly shaded stories with slight variations in titles.

Flipping through the books on the shelves is disappointingly similar to channel surfing, except more time is invested before you realize what you've chosen is tripe. The only bonus is the absence of commercials breaks.

I know I need to read, however. If I don't read, my mind will languish and my writing skills will stagnate. But if books are food for the brain, Barnes & Noble is a huge vending machine stocked with candies and chips.

2010 Resolutions

2010-01-04T18:11:00.001-08:00

K) Read William Faulkner.

R) Write about anything of my choosing for 10 minutes every day.

I) Exercise often and enjoy it.

S) Eat more vegetables.

T) Spend less money.

E) Learn about nutrition.

N) Conquer fear of kitchen.

J) Use time wisely.

A) Be a better dog owner.

N2) Volunteer.

E2) Stress less.

*I have denoted resolutions with letters for tracking purposes.

Just in case you were wondering...

2010-01-01T16:37:00.000-08:00

The absence of prescription drug coverage at my new job (for the time being) made me think it might be a good idea to try to wean myself off the anti-depressant without medical supervision. It was a bad idea. I got some headache sometimes, but mostly my hormones were all out of whack - it was like never-ending PMS - everything made me cry. My grandma told me she had a similar experience when once TAKING anti-depressants - so it clearly varies from person to person.

I don't want to be dependent on drugs forever if I don't need to be, and I am hopeful that (after my nice health insurance benefits kick in) I will be able to try again - but in a more responsible way.

Consider that a resolution!

2009 Resolutions

2010-01-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

I've often - in my 28 years - engaged in the ritual of writing New Year's resolutions. Blogs make it possible to not only write the resolutions, but to track your progress (or lack thereof).

Last year I was easy on myself, resolving nothing specific and leaving no yard stick by which to measure my success.

Goals are important, but so is follow-through.

Some people micromanage their goals - in fact, self help gurus will recommend the practice (in no-uncertain terms). Lists, journals, diaries, logs, all different words for the documentation that will keep you on track.

I've done this. I will likely do it again. But this year, I did nothing.

So how do I conduct my yearly audit? Perhaps in lessons learned and clever quotations..

"Money isn't everything" - "Mother"
I took a job this year that pays significantly less than the job I held previously. I had several reason for taking this job - money wasn't one of them. The promise of professional growth and potential career advancement lured me away from a bad situation. Like a mirage in the desert, upon first sight these promises seemed very real - then eventually faded away. But I don't regret my decision. Lesson learned: Money isn't everything - but it is something.

"Of all the 36 alternatives, running is always best." - Chinese Proverb
I ran my first 5K this year. For most of my life I characterized myself as the anti-runner. Sweating, heavy breathing, head bobbing around like a bobble-head doll - these are things I detest. But every once in a while, something tells me to do something I've never done before for the express purpose of doing it. It usually happens when I've been riding the defeatist wave for too long and serves as a reminder that I am capable of many things - including the unexpected and even those I deem myself incapable of. Lesson learned: I may not be able to do everything, but I can do many things.

"I eat like a vulture. Unfortunately the resemblance doesn't end there." - Groucho Marx
I managed to keep off the weight I lost last year. It's fluctuated a little bit, but I am still around 150-153 on most days. I am not allowed to weigh myself again until the end of January though. Damn Christmas cookies. Lesson learned: Self-disciplin won't kill you - but Christmas comes only once each year.

"The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction." - Allen Ginsberg
My little sister married her Mexican soul-mate. That was her milestone for the year really, but I became a sister-in-law and confirmed my psychic ability. (I knew she would end up with her husband). Lesson learned: Love knows no borders. (And I am comfortable giving a toast when most of my audience doesn't understand English.)

"Moo." - Cow
I am pretty sure I am lactose intolerant. An unfortunate state of affairs I assure you, as I love cheese. Lesson learned: Soy milk, skim milk, 2 percent, fat free, it all tastes the same when you pour it on cereal so go with what doesn't result in stomach discomfort. But if you are dipping oreo cookies or eating a slice of chocolate cake, only cow milk will do!

No MD? No problem

2009-09-17T14:09:00.000-07:00

After meeting with my MD last week, I learned that I don't actually need a doctor's help to wean myself off of the antidepressant Paxil.

That's right.

I can do whatever I want; whatever method "works for me" to get off the drug. And in case it doesn't "work out" I have a year's worth of Paxil I can have refilled regularly at my local pharmacy.

It's a Brave New World in medicine.

Anyone who has ever received health "care" is probably already familiar with the "hurry up and wait" policy the medical industry has adopted. Get to the office early, wait; get in the examining room with the uncomfortable table and shiny stainless steel equipment, wait some more; see the doctor, get the hell out.

You're likely to have a more meaningful exchange with the "Sandwich Artists" at Subway.

I suppose it should come as no surprise; everything in society is on an "expedited" mode. Meals (fast food), conversations (do we every really STOP talking either via phone, Facebook, Twitter, blog), shopping (hello credit cards).

But really? Getting off Paxil can be painful... even when done correctly (see "withdrawal symptoms)

Her cavalier attitude was very troubling to me but I guess it is really just par for the course.

My next course of action: Contact a psychiatrist for real advice and a concrete plan of attack. Try not to be discouraged.

A Life Less Medicated

2009-09-15T13:20:00.000-07:00

I am thinking about ending an important relationship in my life.

It's a relationship that has lasted for nearly a decade - but I think it might be time to move on.

I tried once to break it off, but ending a relationship is kind of complicated when your partner is an antidepressant.

Paxil and I first became introduced the summer of my junior year of high school. Putting it simply: I felt bad, Paxil made me feel better.

The healthy way to end a relationship with a drug like Paxil is pretty much the opposite of the healthy way to end a relationship with another person: You have to do it very slowly, or it will be painful. For people, the reverse is usually true.

Now, you might be wondering why I would want to write about something so "personal" in a public blog; it's not my personality to be so free with information about certain aspects of my life. At one time, I may have been hesitant to mention that I am on an antidepressant - there was a stigma attached. But times have changed.

ABC recently (August) reported that the number of people taking antidepressants has doubled from 1996 to 2005.

In 2005, about 27 million people (10 percent of all Americans) were taking antidepressants.

So you see, I am in good company.

I was told a long time ago the reason I was depressed was because not enough of a certain chemical was being produced in my brain; this could be true. Since then it has never been confirmed, nor denied. How could it? As far as I know there is still no way to hack into people's brains and measure chemical production.

The Mayo clinic calls clinical depression a "chronic illness" like diabetes. If this is the case, I will need to be on medication for life.

But because there is no simple answer, no one single "cause" of depression, our friends in the medical community have to address it on a case by case basis.

My case: I started on Paxil during my teenage years. Some people might consider this a difficult time in life. I did.

I am a really different person from the person I was back then (as most people are) and my perspective has changed. Part of that change is attributable to the experiences of life. I would like to see if the person I am now, in a dramatically different environment, can live sans-medication. If I can't, count me as a statistic supporting the theory that depression is more biochemical and genetic.

I can live with that.

But first I want to know if I can live a life that is less medicated.
*To those nice people in my life who are inclined to worrying: I am doing this with medical oversight.

Don't Speak (says it all)

2009-09-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

"To Blog or Not to Blog..." (you know the rest)

2009-09-08T15:04:00.000-07:00

I will not be getting a raise this year, cost-of-living or otherwise; instead my company is giving me a blog.

I am happy because this is a total validation of my blog-worthiness; I am sad because I would rather have money.

I tried to explain this "raise" (in esteem, if nothing else) to my mother.

MOM: What is a blog?

ME: Like my personal blog, but for work.

MOM: I guess I don't really understand what a blog is...

She was not alone.

Others were equally puzzled:

OTHERS: So, what is the point of giving you a blog?

ME: To drive people to our Web site and engage readers.

OTHERS: Like, to drive revenue and advertising?

ME: Ummm... not specifically, but I suppose that could happen as a result...

While immense revenue opportunities may exist in "blogging" I am fairly incompetent when it comes to the business side of things. As far as I am concerned a blog is an Internet Soap Box where I can spew forth personal narratives (in this case, they would pertain to my 9-5).

My task was to devise an over-riding theme for this blog. My boss had a couple of ideas and so did I. None were all that compelling and I was still not quite accepting the idea.

As a journalist, you don't want to bare too much of your soul to your "readers" because then they can make inferences about you. I write about my dog, for example, and something I might find humorous (trying to pull tick-like bumps off of her body for several minutes before realizing they are her doggy nipples) and before you know it an angry reader will be reporting me to PETA and taking my dog away. (Come on, it's an easy mistake to make).

Of course I wouldn't dream of mentioning in a professional blog how Ella likes to rifle through the bathroom garbage can during my "time of the month" and sample used sanitary items; or how she had a bad habit of ripping the crotches out of my dirty underwear (now she just licks them until they are soggy and I can wash them clean). I would only write about such really disturbing things in a blog where I can maintain some semblance of (perceived ) anonymity.

But how can I write about myself and my very human life, when I need my "readers" to believe I am somehow above those human idiosyncrasies that can be quickly translated into credibility damaging biases.

Journalists are at best shamans, and at worst voyeurs. We can't do anything or join any clubs that might jeopardize our precious journalistic integrity. I recently found a club I was interested in joining, the League of Women Voters, which is essentially a government watchdog organization - much like the Fourth Estate. It promotes political involvement (as opposed to the prevailing public apathy). Supposedly the organization is bipartisan. However, leaders at the national level often take a stand on certain issues, and I can't have that coming back to tarnish my shiny journalistic standards.

Sometimes I feel like I am like Scrooge in a "Christmas Carole" - I can only see (and report) what the ghosts are showing me; I am not allowed to impact the outcome of the events I see.

But I should write a blog.

I can't help but believe that "sharing" with "readers" in this way will call into question my journalistic integrity in everything I write OUTSIDE of the blogisphere.

I guess it will be a "fun" little experiment.

Or the beginning of the end.

Butter dish, the update

2009-07-14T14:22:00.000-07:00

I need another "new" butter dish.

Perhaps made of plastic.

The second-hand glass butter dish I acquired earlier this spring met an unfortunate end last week

Presumably it was The Dog who knocked the butter dish off the counter Friday (it was during the 9 to 5 and there were no witnesses). When I came home after work, I discovered two monster glass shards on the living room floor, and smaller slivers in the kitchen.

The butter was no more.

The culpable party was without remorse, as is customary when these types of things happen and she (amazingly) survived the incident unscathed.

I, on the other hand, got a sneaky sliver of glass in my heel nearly five days later.

And so, the butter dish saga continues...

The World Gets a Second Chance

2009-07-14T14:15:00.000-07:00

Anyone can read my blog again, oh lucky world inhabitants. Don't make me sorry I've let you back in...

Art

2009-07-13T16:00:00.000-07:00

Trapped in a waiting room for longer than I would have liked, I flipped through the glossy pages of an "Elle Decor" magazine to pass the time.

Home Improvement magazines have never been of interest to me mainly because I don't have a "home." "Home" denotes permanence and ownership. I am a nomadic renter with no sense of dwelling permanence - an affliction I've experienced since leaving college.

The places where I have lived since leaving my parents' house are less like homes and more like docking stations; places where I can "recharge" (eat, sleep, shower) and have the benefit of legal overnight parking.

People with "homes" tend to read magazines like "Decor" and worry about things like paint, mood lighting, area rugs, throw pillows and a menagerie of other completely non-functional, dust collecting room/house enhancements.

I "read" magazines like "Decor" only when I am trapped in a doctor's office, and the only other options in the periodical rack are "Parenting Today" and "Country Living."

Despite its general irrelevance to my life, I did see an interesting article in "Decor" about a New York artist named Kathryn Lynch.

I am about as educated in art appreciation as I am interested in home-improvement; I operate merely on preference. I have no deeper appreciation of art - technique, form, color or history. It is either pleasing to my eye, or not based strictly on the sum total of my life experiences/genes/personality/mood/fill-in-the-blank-and-call-in-a-psychoanalyst.

That being said: I would hang a Kathryn Lynch painting in my "home" (if I had one). They please my eye.

Blue Hudson River

A Moon + A Sense (My favorite)

City Blues

Fireworks (This one makes me think of the National Anthem)

Lynch also has some "art" that seems really juvenile-looking to me, but that is probably because I am not so "art-savvy" as to truly appreciate its craftsmanship. Blah blah blah. You can see the ones I like, and those I don't at the Sears-Peyton Gallery

Going the distance

2009-06-29T07:08:00.000-07:00

I just want to brag that I ran three miles in 30 minutes Friday and Sunday nights. I got hot and sweaty and gross and winded but I felt like a real champ when I was done.

I am proud of this achievement because I have come a super long way from where I was nine months ago.

My goal is to run 3 miles at top speed a minimum of twice a week and work toward improving my 5K time. Finishing is good, kicking ass is better - even if it is just my own.

Ella = Mutt

2009-06-21T20:15:00.000-07:00

Do due increased demand, I am posting the results to a DNA test that was done on my dog, Ella, earlier this year. I swabbed her chubby little cheeks with a Q-Tip and sent the sample in a sealed envelope to BioPet Vet Lab. Several weeks later, they sent me a certificate and a breakdown of the results.

Based on the DNA analysis, Ella has four different breeds represented in her DNA: cocker spaniel, border collie, Italian Greyhound and Belgian Tervuren. The traits that I have identified in Ella are in bold.

The Cocker Spaniel is eager to both work and hunt. They are trusting and respectful of their master. They are of average intelligence and may be difficult to housebreak. Some like to bark. They love everyone and want people to be happy. They are usually good with children. If not socialized well, they may tend to be shy.

The Border Collie is outgoing, friendly and affectionate with those with whom they are familiar and reserved with strangers. They are highly intelligent, very motivated, enjoy working and may become neurotic if not given enough to do. They are not usually nervous or aggressive. They have a very strong herding instinct which they will use to attempt to herd cats or other small animals.

The Italian Greyhound is submissive, affectionate and gentle. They can be reserved with strangers but very attached to their masters. They are playful, sometimes intentionally naughty and may try to take advantage. They can also be timid and high strung. They do best in a quiet household with no small children. They are very active and may be difficult to housebreak

Belgian Tervuren is smart and obedient, serious and watchful, with strong protective and territorial instincts. They are loyal to their master, and thrive on companionship. If left alone, they may find ways to entertain themselves that may be destructive to surroundings. They have strong herding instincts that they may display by nipping at people's heels. They tend to attach themselves and bond strongly to one or two people.

In conclusion: Traits from these four breeds were written on pieces of paper, put in a black magician's hat, and randomly selected by the angels in heaven and thus was born the "Ella" dog.

Knifed

2009-06-16T14:21:00.000-07:00

I want to buy some knives for cutting fruits and vegetables.

But to be honest, I am a little intimidated.

I saw a set of Farberware Cutlery at Wal-Mart and considered them for purchase. Doing my best impression of an educated consumer, I read the back of the package.

Behind the window of tear-proof plastic was the printed promise of a limited lifetime guarantee... "UNLESS," the short paragraph stated, "they are not properly cared for." I inspected the back of the package for further information about "proper care" of knives, found none, then made a mental note of the Farberware Web site, where another line of text promised I could find "more information."

I visited the Web site and did not, however, find any more information. And so the care of knives remained a mystery...

Then I conducted a Yahoo search.

I learned that, in addition to washing knives in warm water with a gentle soap, "proper care" would also probably include "sharpening."

A few paragraphs attempted to explain the different sharpening methods, and revealed the existence of professional knife sharpeners.

Professional knife sharpeners?

I resisted the desire to find out more about these people: Who are they? Do they have degrees? Where do they work? What do they charge? Is this their main source of income or just a hobby to supplement their livelihood?

I was begining to feel way out of my league.

Who was I to undertake such an endeavor - this immense responsibility of knife ownership - without the proper training?

I took an Advil and closed my laptop.

I thought about my serrated knife in my kitchen drawer. I wasn't sure what it was meant for but I had, over the past five years, used it for everything from cutting watermelon to slicing into the hard plastic used for packaging knives and electronic devices like head phones and MP3 players.

Maybe this, too, is something that is simply a matter of trial and error.

But I don't know.

Sometimes I feel as if each day is merely an exercise in uncovering all of the things I don't yet know.

Financial 'whoas'

2009-06-02T07:26:00.000-07:00

The transmission on my Pontiac Grand Prix needs to be rebuilt. Although not an imminent threat to my mobility, apparently some action will need to be taken in the near future. There is a lot of information on the Internet about the 2000 Grand Prix and it sounds like the transmission is (unfortunately) a common problem with this model after a certain number of miles. The total cost will be around $2,000, but since I just invested $500 in tires, rebuilding the transmission seems to be the wisest way to proceed. The mechanic said I could probably get another 50,000 miles out of my car with a rebuilt transmission. On the Internet it looks as thought I could sell my car for between $3,000 and $4,000 (that would be if it were healthy). I would rather keep it, though, than be saddled with a "new" used car with a mysterious past.

Other financial woes: something is very wrong with my laptop. I don't know what and I am not going to find out until it is in operable. Now it is difficult to use and inconsistent with a lot of weird error screens and spontaneous shutdowns. To take it in and get it fixed would be an assault on my already hurting finances: I am trying desperately to recover from wedding expenses/vacation and the impact of my work-imposed furlough. My grandfather recently dropped $200 to have his computer cleaned of viruses and I need that $200 for other things!

With all of these things hanging over my head, it would seem as though thoughts of going back to school for a master's degree are now in the same realm of possibility as becoming a rocket scientist.

My head is still above water, though, so I can't complain too much.

Wedded Bliss

2009-06-02T07:08:00.000-07:00

Little sister tied the knot last month - twice. The first time (May 17) was on the gulf shore by a priest, the second time (May 20) was in a park by a civil servant. I guess they do things a little differently when an American citizen is marrying a Mexican citizen in his home country. The good news is they are married and they are in the process of having their marriage license recognized in the United States, as well. My hope is eventually (within the next two years) they move back to the United States. They are considering their official wedding date as May 17, by the way.

My first 5K

2009-06-02T07:01:00.000-07:00

I ran my first 5K this weekend! I finished in 30:58 and improved my time with each lap of the mile-long track. I couldn't believe it! My goal was to simply complete the race without walking (or dying). I guess the gym time has been paying off. I suspect that soon I will be setting some new health/fitness goals. The feeling of accomplishment that I experience when I do something I never thought I could do is incomparable and worth the effort.

Whose dumb idea was this? Oh yeah, mine…

2009-04-20T14:53:00.000-07:00

News coverage at my paper lately has been far from comprehensive. Reduced staff, reduced hours and reduced morale are at least in part to blame – but was this publication ever able to provide the complete countywide coverage it so loudly proclaimed?

I don’t know.

I’ve been here less than a year. During that time, I saw my fearless leader and a seasoned news editor sent packing – two casualties of the “economic situation” and what may be the slow and agonizing death of the community newspaper.

Since then it has been a struggle to find the happy medium between the bad days and the good.

On bad days, I send my resume anywhere and everywhere – it’s like a message in a bottle out on the open ocean and I am like an island castaway: I don’t know who will get my message and I really don’t care, I just hope that soon I will be rescued.

On good days, I want to make my paper the best it can be and in so doing create more work for myself. More stress inevitably follows.

I am not the editor. Certain responsibilities are not within my realm of authority. But in this brave new world of part-time and virtual editors, it is unlikely (if not impossible) for those who are in command to have any idea what is really happening on the ground. An intercessor is born.

I quietly made a list of our “perceived” coverage goals (those concocted with a larger staff) and compared it with a list of our “actual” coverage. I wasn’t surprised to find a gaping discrepancy.

Actual coverage and perceived coverage were two entirely different creatures.

I presented my findings to the part-time/virtual editor, along with a proposed plan of action. The plan of action will require me to pick up a lot of the slack and reprioritize my workload; meaning some things will still fall by the wayside. However, I believe the truly important areas will receive the attention they require and future disasters will be averted.

If only there was a way to translate this brilliance into something resume-worthy instead of just added work for the time being.

Lucky for me, today is a “good” day and on good days I believe that making the best of the bumpy road I am on will lead to something profoundly better, albeit with its own challenges, in the NEAR future.

Yoga de-mystified

2009-04-20T12:22:00.000-07:00

Today I am celebrating my one-week anniversary with yoga.

Only seven short days ago, I wandered into an upper level studio in Sturgeon Bay for a beginner’s class, stripped out of my socks, and got centered. I haven’t been the same since.

OK, that might be a slight exaggeration, but it was an eye-opening experience.

Yoga is actually kind of difficult to explain. Perhaps that is why it rarely receives an adequate explanation in pop-culture and is instead reduced to celebrity get-fit-quick sound bytes.

Participating in one Beginner’s Yoga class hardly makes me an expert – but I would still like to take a stab at deciphering this pastime to my beloved readers. (“Hi” grandma and grandpa; thanks for reading.)

So first, here is what the dictionary says:

“Yoga: A Hindu discipline aimed at training the consciousness for a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility; a system of exercises practiced as part of this discipline to promote control of the body and mind.”

This definition is probably the best I could find that avoids getting to caught up in the theological and cultural intricacies of the practice, which has its roots in India and specifically, the Hindu and Buddhist religions.

What surprised me after attending my first yoga class, was how a lot of the “poses” I learned were not unfamiliar. Many of them I had already done at one time or another, but they were called “stretches,” and were given far less mystical-sounding names.

The take-away message is that yoga can be whatever you make it – just another type of exercise or something more.

The difference between yoga and other physical activities is that you have to be “present” – focused on the here and now – because you will probably fall over if you aren’t. In other physical activities, it is a lot easier to mindlessly go through the motions.

Even if you are skeptical of the other benefits yoga promises to offer, I think most of us could use the reminder to focus on the here and now and be “present” in each moment of our lives.

Butter dish

2009-04-07T06:56:00.000-07:00

My parents are coming to visit me this weekend and my mom is bringing me a butter dish. I am very excited about this because for some reason whenever I am shopping in places that actually sell butter dishes, I forget that I need one. As a result, my butter usually hangs out atop a teacup saucer or in an overly accommodating piece of tupperware in my 'frige.

At one time, the butter didn't have a home at all, and was left to shiver inside of its wax-paper packaging on a low refrigerator shelf. I quickly discovered that was a dangerous place for butter: any time the refrigerator door opened Ella (part pig/part dog) would take a swipe at it with her tongue.

Little things like butter dishes don't make a huge difference in life - but they are still nice to have. Just like a paper towel dispenser... but that is a story for another day...

Canon in D, anyone?

2009-04-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

Several women I know are being made "honest" next month.

My Mom's best friend, Sue, will be the first to walk down the proverbial aisle, followed by my aunt, and then Little Sister.

Little Sister is getting married.

Sigh.

I still can't believe it, but I have come a long way since I first learned of her engagement last November.

Being the older sibling, it was hard for me to let go of the (admittedly irrational) belief that it is my duty - my birthright even - to complete all of life's major firsts, FIRST. My "failure" to comply with (real or perceived) societal norms resulted in a blighting sense of inadequacy.

Once upon a time, I had been engaged; once upon a time, there had been a chance for me. Now I had to face the harsh reality that my transition from bright-eyed young woman into cynical, spinsterly aunt was imminent - and I was helpless to stop it.

But since then I have done a lot of thinking. I reflected on marriage and divorce and relationships – in general. For much of my adult life, I wasn't sure if I wanted to get married; what I did know was that I didn't want to get divorced. I pondered what the secret was - what makes some marriages happy and lasting and successful (generally speaking) while others end in divorce. I wanted a rhyme to the reason; I wanted to believe that there are "tell-tale signs" or similarities between failed relationships - symptoms that could be identified as treatable or untreatable. I wanted to believe that there are instances of foreshadowing in life that - if one is paying attention - one can heed to avoid an unhappy ending. While this may be true to some degree, there are never any guarantees.

On the plus side, I think I know under what circumstances I would like to marry.

Marriage, to me, is about finding a best friend, a lover and soul mate and pledging to them that no matter what happens, you want to solve your problems, and work together, and experience life's journey together - even when it is not easy. You want to share joy and love, and be there for each other when times are hard. You challenge each other to be better people, while being supportive. You are teammates with shared goals, but you also support each other in your individual goals.

This is what I want in a relationship and in a marriage. If I can't have it, I might be better off as a spinsterly aunt.

decisions, decisions

2009-03-29T14:20:00.000-07:00

Last August I made some life-altering decisions.

I confronted fears, I said goodbye and I cried.

Decisions are hard to make - and always involve taking a chance - even when it is not obvious.

I knew I was taking a chance. After I took that chance, there was a period of adjustment, things were better than I expected; and then worse than anticipated.

Now, I am living with the decisions that I made and the good and the bad that go with them.

This is life.

I am not sure whether it's more simple than we want to admit, or really complicated.

In any case, a lot has changed in my life in eight months: My job, my home, my outlook.

My goals are more clearly defined, my dreams better articulated and my vision of myself a little less murky.

I am coming to terms with being a grown-up and a human being and that scary thing called "making a decision."

Although sometimes we may struggle with decisions - and even postpone making them - in reality we are lucky that we have the opportunity.

Pain

2009-02-16T11:05:00.000-08:00

Living in a small world, your life is very big. The minutia of the day to day consume your thoughts and the world revolves around one, blazing sun that is definitively you.

Then one day you wake up and realize, you are actually not the center of the universe and that a great bit of activity is going on around you - a thought that can bring comfort, as well as isolation.

Because the world is full of pain. Pain is bad and we hide from it as long as we can. Until the inevitable - "something really bad" - happens.

Sure, "something really bad" can happen when you are in your small world. But there is "bad" blown up for dramatic effect in absence of anything else interesting happening; and then there is bad.

Bad is something that can not be adequately described or spoken. It is the greatest pain - the absence of hope, the hollowness, the regret, the rage, the helplessness.

Bad is seeing a baby brought into the world under the worst of circumstance, with the odds already against her. Bad is watching that baby grow and fight against the odds, only to be stifled by obstacle after heart-wrenching obstacle. Bad is learning someone has stolen the innocence from that baby, who has already been through more than most people in their lives.

This is the best the world has to offer?

Something has to be done.

The Beatings Will Continue. Period.

2009-02-04T09:11:00.000-08:00

Winter, the economy, and job dissatisfaction are really taking their toll on my friends and me. We are all struggling to maintain our sanity in this really unfriendly reality. I have four friends (that I know of, maybe more), who, like myself, will be facing a week of unpaid furlough; another friend was laid off completely, as were two of my bosses; and one other friend who is leaving the journalism field altogether and going back school. Sometimes I wish I could do the same, but right now I am just not sure how that would work or what I could do differently to bring more meaning into my life and (hopefully) more job satisfaction.
The winter is making me really depressed, and I have been trying to channel it into something positive – singing and learning guitar.

Amy Lee of Evanesence and Tori Amos are my vocal “role models.” I realize I need to concentrate more on the fundamentals, the building blocks of vocals, because Amy & Tori have a much greater ability to control their voices on command than I do. Sometimes I can do something that sounds pretty good but I am not sure how it was accomplished. Other times I try to do something good and it ends up sounding like a boy going through puberty. Not good!

I know practice will make perfect – or at least “improved.” But fundamentals are so boring and vocal exercises just make me feel cheesy. “La la la la la la la la laaaaa.” At the same time I know it makes sense to do and you can’t just “whip it out” without some kind of warming up.

I don’t like to do something without any defined purpose – largely this is because this is something I really want to do, but I am going to have a goal too. I would like to get to a point where I feel confident enough in my “skills” that I could do an open mic night or at least feel comfortable enough to join a choir, or audition to be in the chorus for some musical, or something. Because I really like singing and music and it makes me happy so….

Right now my favorite song to sing is “Lithium” (Evanesence) – go figure.

I know my mood will improve when spring arrives, or the economy improves – whichever happens first. The Groundhog said it will probably be a while before either.

We Found a Dress (and no one died)

2009-01-18T17:15:00.001-08:00

Little Sis, Big Sis and the one they call The Blessid Mother embarked on a journey Saturday, Jan. 17, to find a wedding dress for Little Sis. In three or so short and (relatively) painless hours the search was over, *the* dress was purchased, and no one died.

When all is said and done, my mom, my sister and I love and respect each other, but our similarities often make it hard for us to peacefully co-exist for extended periods of time and in confined spaces.

We are all very independent, strong-willed and sometimes stubborn creatures. While we can be cool-headed in other circumstances, for some reason, in one another’s company emotions can escalate and circumstances deteriorate at a break-neck speed.

We were all keenly aware of these facts when we piled into Mom’s Sonata and headed to David’s Bridal.

Amazingly, we (“we” being Little Sis) found a dress in less than three hours with only a few bumpy patches. All possibilities were considered, including walking barefoot down the aisle and hemming to the hilt.

In the end, Little Sis will do neither – but she did find a winning dress.

Progress is Slow & Painful

2009-01-11T17:13:00.000-08:00

I've accomplished a lot of things this weekend - nothing all that important or interesting, but necessary.

I did some organizing and some pre-emptive "spring cleaning." The winter is a good time to sift through the crap and figure out what I really need and what needs to go. Lightening my personal load is important because if I decide in a moment's notice that I want to get the heck outta here, I don't want to be burdened with a lot of crap I don't need.

The only way you know what you need is by going through and assessing the value of each item. I am working through the spare bedroom and trying to pare down my collection of newsclippings, which is probably my biggest burden.

Although I haven't made a formal list of new year's resolutions, I have at the forefront of my brain a list of goals and every day I am taking steps closer to accomplishing them. Key words sum them up - cooking, health, fitness, music, persistence, patience.

Today I played a chord on the guitar and I was very excited. It was the "G" chord and it actually sounded right. Awesome. I am kind of disgusted by how long it took me to get to the point where I could play it and for a short time was convinced my fingers must just be too fat, or finger nails too long. Now I have no nails and I played one chord. I am thinking about taking lessons to speed the process a bit. But I guess I am not really in a HURRY. Besides, I need to save my money for "college."

If everything pans out right, next fall I am going to start taking some Digital Media classes at Northeast Wisconsin Technical College. I have a meeting in Green Bay this week with an advisor to talk about their flexible adult programs and payment options. The reality is the journalism industry is a scary place to be and a girl has got to have a backup plan. In another two months my company is doing more layoffs and while I think they are only interested in frying the big fish - you just never know.

Besides that, I really am not crazy about living here. I mean, my house is nice enough, and certainly cheap enough, but I am convinced this area is no place to live if you are a single person. I hate knowing everything has gone to bed by 9 p.m. and the nearest "big" city is a 45 minute drive. Big cities are nice (and this "big city" is small by other people's standards) because there is more stuff to do and more people to meet (under the age of 40).

THis is a nice place to visit, but not a nice place to live if you are me.

Things to look forward too: My sister is coming home from Mexico next weekend for a visit and we are going to paint the town. That will be nice. It's been a long time since I've gone out and danced the night away. Then Sunday we are looking for *the* dress. Her wedding dress, that is. And potentially my bridesmaid's dress. That should be fun.... Ok... probably not. I will try to think positive about this... but the whole thing kind of makes me feel ill.... I am not sure why. I mean, I am happy for her but...still makes me ill....maybe because I have to wear lavendar? Maybe because I have to fly on a plane for her nuptuals? Maybe because she might never move back to the states? Maybe because it makes me revisit my doomed engagement 3 or so years ago? There are lots of reasons why this could potentially make me feel ill and want to drown myself in delicious margaritas and/or apple puckers and journey to the happy land of inhibition. Unfortunately the land of tremendous heartburn often follows quickly behind.

I have decided to get a tattoo. It is just a matter of where and when. I know that this will really make my mom happy. Whenever I have mentioned the "t" word in the past, she has given me a look like I suggested we go drown some puppies: profound horror. It will be a tasteful little piece and I have asked an old friend of mine to draw it for me. He is a pretty good artist and he would take the task seriously. I don't know when this will happen. It will be a great surprise to everyone. Mwah ha ha. Trish, you better support me in this - you have two of them and I don't think you regret them.

So I "cooked" today. I made this tasty strawberry, walnut salad with poppyseed dressing, lettuce and spinach leaves. Yummy yummy. How do you like me now? I am going to try to do more "cooking" this year, as it could potentially be cheaper and healthier than eating other crap... Keep in mind, if I cook one meal once a month, I will be doing more than I have ever done before in my life. That reminds me, I have some eggs I need to hard boil for lunch tomorrow. Go me.

I am also going to try to do a better job of being organized and keeping my house clean - because that is what you are supposed to do. But at the end of the day, living life is still more important to me than shiny countertops and I vow to abandon cleaning when life strikes!

Life is too short

2009-01-05T12:45:00.001-08:00

Life is OK. It could definitely be worse; I have a job, a steady paycheck, bills I can pay (for the most part), my health (for the most part) and great family and friends.

So is it bad to want *more* or dream about *bigger and better* things when I am lucky to just be where I am?

I am not sure.

On one hand, I feel like I should keep my eyes to the ground and my fingers crossed, ever pressing on in the direction I am headed ... On the other hand, I want to dream and strive for something better and take steps to reach another goal.

It's a tricky business...

Day 2

2009-01-02T13:28:00.000-08:00

It's Day 2 of the New Year and things are still going well! I am a little bit sleepy at the moment, but aside from that 2009 is treating me kindly. I am thankful for all of the special people in my life and that my UTI appears to be going away. I hate UTIs. This weekend I plan to do some SERIOUS reorganizing of my house... and some cleaning too. I wish it wasn't so cold in the upper level of my house. Then I might actually spend time up there besides sleeping. Even that isn't too pleasant: I dive beneath the chilly covers and rub my limbs together to generate heat. If that doesn't work, I roll into a ball.

I resolve... to read

2009-01-01T09:29:00.000-08:00

One of my New Year's resolutions this year is to read more. I am happy to say that I have no shortage of material. Trish provided me with three books and I have two at home that I am also planning to read and maybe engage in a blog dialoge with Trish about some of them. They are...

"Women Who Think Too Much: How to Break Free of Overthinking and Reclaim Your Life" by Susan Nolen-Hoeksema

"The Four Agreements" by Don Miguel Ruiz

"You're Broke Because You Want to Be: How to Stop Getting By and Start Getting Ahead" by Larry Winget

"Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim: Essays" by David Sedaris

"A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle

Let the reading begin!

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T09:18:00.000-08:00

Somewhere in Northern Wisconsin, a group of people have gathered to celebrate the New Year in a special way: by plunging into the icy waters of Lake Michigan. They call themselves "polar bears;" I call them insane!

I celebrated the New Year, too.

I went shopping.

I have the distinction of being the first sale of 2009 at New York & Co. in Southridge Mall. The shopping experience was unlike any other I have ever had - simply put - bliss.

There were no crowds, the sales associates were friendly without being overbearing and almost everything was on sale. (It was the "big BIG sale.")

Adding to my pleasure was the fact that the size I previously wore was now too big! I had to buy a smaller size.

Bliss.

I left the store with three pairs of pants, four underwear, and a sweater - all for the low low price of $72. $72 that was paid for with $75 worth of gift cards.

I hate to be redundant, but...

Bliss.

So I started the New Year blissfully happy and it is my resolution to remain so for as long as humanly possible.

Old guitar & New Year's Resolutions

2008-12-26T09:48:00.000-08:00

Look out world, I got a guitar. I am not talking about a plastic guitar that plugs into a Play Station - although that would qualify as cool, too; I am talking about a real musical instrument! And I am determined to learn how to play.

The piano will probably always be my favorite instrument that-I-never-formally-learned-how to play – and one I would still like to learn. But it's just not practical given the size and expense of a piano. A guitar - on the other hand - I can bring into the house without a moving van and roid-raging dudes. And because it is in my house, I can practice any time I want!

I stole the guitar from my Dad. He used to play. When he was younger, in a band; and when he was older, in the basement of our house (I think to unwind.) When we were growing up he would play and sing songs by America and I would dance around in front of a blinking disco-style light. They were good times. My favorite song to dance to was the one that had the words: "Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man." Probably because it was a Wizard of Oz reference so I understood it. I still don't know the name of that song...

Anyway, I asked Dad if I could steal his guitar. He couldn't really say no, because he hasn't played it in years (I think?) but he looked a bit hesitant. Perhaps he was contemplating how much he would want to play the guitar when he no longer had access to it anymore... that seems to be the way men operate...

He authorized the transaction and into the back seat of my car went the old guitar. I don't know anything about guitars so this should be interesting. I plan to find somewhere in town where I can get it tuned and perhaps get some advice on maintenance, then I will head to the bookstore and get a "For Dummies" book on playing guitar. I know Sheryl Crow taught herself how to play and she probably didn't have the "Dummies" book to guide her, so I am optimistic.

I don't expect to be Sheryl Crow caliber in 6 months, but I would like to be able to play SOMETHING. I think that is an attainable goal. This is part of a larger New Year's Resolution: this is the year I kick the stage fright. I am done with you, stage fright. I expect this will be REALLY hard... but I am going to do my best. I have to if I am going to make a toast at my baby sister's wedding...

Crazy at Christmas

2008-12-25T11:20:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, Blog Friend(s) (i.e. Trish)

The weather was a bit scary and the roads very harrowing, but I made it home for Christmas! What a relief. The past two days are going by in a blur. It's a little hard to let your guard down and just go crazy with Christmas enjoyment when you know you have to work the day after Christmas. This is the first year I've had to do that. (I am so spoiled.)

This was a weird Christmas, because Little Sister is a million miles away (or it feels like it) in Mexico. Christmas morning was not the same, although still enjoyable and I am happy that she is happy. Christmas Eve was also weird, because my cousin is in Indiana. First Christmas without her, too. Boo.

Grandma must not have gotten the memo that there would be so few people for dinner because she cooked up quite a feast. Wow. It was SOME spread, let me tell ya. Ribs, chicken, seafood salad, calico beans and fruit salad (super yummy). We also had "pigs in a blanket" for appetizers - my favorite.

Today my mom's family is headed over here to continue the celebration. We don't exchange gifts on this side of the family anymore, which I think is pretty progressive. I still usually end up with $20 bills stuffed into my pockets, though. You won't hear me complaining about that.

It will be nice to see everyone, even though it sounds like Grandma & Grandpa are both sick with head colds and coughs.

I am psyched to do some shopping this weekend, with my Christmas windfall - gift cards and $$ galore. I know I should stick some of the money in the bank... We'll see...

So this is love

2008-12-23T20:21:00.000-08:00

I recently *met a new musician (new only to me) who I cannot get enough of. His name is Butch Walker. It might be because he kind of reminds me of Ben Folds, who I had a love affair with during high school - so there is the nostalgia factor. I am not sure how you describe Butch Walker - except to say he rocks in every way - at least that is my first impression. He is witty, clever and a great musician. I spent the day listening to him via YouTube videos because apparently I need a more sophistocated flash to use projectplaylist.com.

I am going to kill my computer. It sucks at staying connected to the Internet for more than 45 second intervals. Yeay.

Merry (Almost) Christmas.

More snow is supposed to be coming. I am going to try to head home if I can stand it and there is the possibility that I could come out of the roadtrip into winter hell unscathed.

I HEART Butch Walker. Google him. I really like "Ships in a Bottle" and "The Weight of Her" - both of which I downloaded via itunes.

One man's 'dream' is another man's nightmare

2008-12-23T09:01:00.000-08:00

We are going to be having a really White Christmas; as a result I will not be going home for Christmas Eve and I will instead be working all day.

White Christmases also mean shoveling is a part of every day activities.

I hate you snow. You truly truly suck.

I don't know why I live here.

I want to move.

I am now convinced the only way a person could romanticize the snow is by never actually experiencing it. Shoveling snow and driving in it are surely not the stuff of great Christmas songs.

I highly suspect Irving Berlin never lifted a shovel in his life, nor did he ever make the morning commute going 25 mph trying not to end up in a ditch.

So, Mr. Berlin, this year I say "Pishaw" to your "dreaming of a white Christmas." You don't know what you are talking about.

This year, I will be taking a deep breath and wishing everyone a "Mele Kalikimaka."

No weigh!

2008-12-22T10:18:00.000-08:00

I got on the scale this morning and I weigh only three pounds more than I weighed (on average) in high school! I am psyched. Over the past month and a half I have lost 11 pounds!

I guess going to the gym and not eating Subway chocolate chip cookies every single day is finally paying off!

I still have about 8 more pounds I want to lose before Becky's wedding... but the good news is I know I can keep off the 11 pounds I lost because I haven't really changed my life that much. Just not eating as many cookies or as much fatty fast food.

I can't believe I lost weight in DECEMBER!!! The hard part will be going home for Christmas and not gorging myself on those tasty Christmas cookies....

Color me bad

2008-12-19T06:51:00.000-08:00

I got a hair cut yesterday. My stylist, Calli, is super cool so with the instruction not to take off too much length, I told her to have at it. I think she did a pretty bang-up job, but after she offered me a hand-held mirror so that I might inspect the back, I made an appalling discovery: oh the roots, the roots! My dye job needs dire help! Unfortunately, dye jobs are something I can only budget for every 6-8 months, so root pain is something that I must live with...unless.... Santa baby brings me some loot!

In any case, I *will get my hair colored again eventually. I think I am going to have it done at Regis though, and I am going to ask them to make my hair look like this:

I have long been an admirer of Jennifer Aniston. She has got it all, in my opinion. (Except for big ol' knockers). There are lots of women out there that are worthy of admiration for their physical beauty, of course, Eva Mendes, Beyonce Knowles, Rose McGowan... but I have always really been fond of Jennifer Aniston's hair. Besides, I don't know if I do a very good job of pulling off the darker hair color hues.

Stress - the gift that keeps on giving

2008-12-19T05:37:00.000-08:00

I am afraid that holiday stress coupled with the ever-increasing amount of snow is quickly turning me into a version of Scrooge. Funny enough, that was always the Christmas story that gave me the most nightmares: when I was growing up, I used to think the three ghosts were going to come for me.

I blame this on my Catholic upbringing.

What other religious denomination trains children from early on to be so acutely aware of their sins and guilt – before they even really exist? How *else* could an 8 or even 10 year old child draw the conclusion that he or she is some how on the same spiritual level as an elderly man who accrued a lifetime of miserly misdeeds?

Thank you, Sr. Mary Beth and Fr. Ed.

Another side affect of my Catholic education is the long held the belief that I am going to hell.

There were a few short, fleeting years when all of the nuns were talking about how much Jesus loved the little children, and how everyone must be like little children to enter into the Kingdom of God. I fell into the "little children" category at this time, so I felt (at this time and at this time only) my spot in Heaven was safe. I dreaded the day when I would no longer literally be a "child" of God. Then I would have the heavy burden of a life riddled with adult problems and sin; and of course, a one-way ticket to the land of fire and brimstone.

Which brings us to present day and the adult stresses that are keeping me from enjoying the holiday season and those really great gifts that *God* has given me in my life thus far. I don't know why my enjoyment of the good things in my life must always be tainted by the possibility that they might come to an end.

My gift to myself this holiday season is a promise to make the most of the good things that come to me, accept them graciously, and enjoy them without fear, suspicion and doubt. Merry Christmas to me!

Top 10: It wouldn't be Christmas without...

2008-12-12T14:00:00.000-08:00

10. Gifts in pretty paper
9. My favorite movie: Scroodged
8. Piles of Christmas cookies
7. Snow
6. Decorations
5. Warm blankets, slippers and sweaters
4. Fire places
3. Music
2. Family and friends
1. Jesus

How I almost burned my eye lids off

2008-11-24T17:57:00.001-08:00

I once read in a beauty magazine of one glossy sort or another a tip for curling one's eye lashes. I mentally filed the tip away for a future day, but like most information I mentally file away, I forgot one critical element in the recipe. In this recipe, you are to take your standard, run-o-the-mill eye lash curling device (the metal contraption to the right) and heat the "curler" under a hair dryer for a few seconds. The important ingredient I couldn't remember was how long to hold the metal "curler" beneath the blazing hot air of the dryer. I opted for 30 seconds.

I tried one eye, inadvertantly touched the hot metal curler to the thin skin that covers my eye, screamed, then did the same to the other eye. Not only was the entire experiment a failure, the resulting tears of pain mucked up my eye liner.

Ollie the Camel

2008-11-14T11:41:00.001-08:00

Ollie the Camel
Originally uploaded by Ms. Jane

This is what a camel looks like when he is trying to attract a mate. It didn't do anything for me, but apparently the female camels dig it.

Ollie the camel was one of many special and unique creatures I discovered when touring Door County's Washington Island one October day.

What Our Features Say About Us

2008-11-13T10:57:00.001-08:00

I feel as though my entire life has been one long quest to find out who I am. I’ve consulted psychics, had tarot card and...

View >>

When in Vegas...

2008-10-23T21:43:00.001-07:00

Trish left for Vegas today. I will be thinking about her every day until she comes back... wondering if she and her beau are going to pop into a drive-through chapel and get married by an Elvis impersonator.

I really don't mind if Trish gets married - in Vegas or anywhere else. I would be super happy for her. I just would like to be a part of her big day. If that means over the phone, that is OK too. It just is really important to me because the reality is marriage is a big deal - no matter how you do it. It's life-changing. I would feel very honoured to share that life-changing event with Trish. If that makes any sense.

At the same time, if she didn't call me until she got back, I guess I would be OK with that too. I just want her to be happy. It's so funny how pretty much everyone in her life has observed aloud the fact that she COULD get married while she is in Vegas. Really, she and the man could get married anytime they wanted by a justice of the peace. But somehow going to Vegas makes it seem somehow more possible. WHy is that? Because people have a tendency to make bad decision in Vegas or because of the ridiculous number of no-questions-asked chapels in Sin City? Whatever the reason, I would not be surprised if Trish came back with a different last name. If she did, she would no longer be T-squared. That would be the saddest aspect of her marriage. She could no longer be a moniker squared. But then she could always ask him to change HIS last name. I like that idea....

Schizophrenia

2008-09-09T15:12:00.000-07:00

I changed my blog again. This is me acknowledging that a change has taken place. Again.

I have a schizophrenic blog that way. It is what it is.

In other news: My blog isn't the only thing to undergo a lot of changes recently. Recently being a relative term. I am going on week four of a new job in a new town.

Cheers to that.

I am not good at picking places to live. I have decided this after two post-college moves - both motivated by forces other than personal preference. I think the next place I live is going to be a place where I want to be.

For now I am living and working in a place that is unsuitable for normal people who want to live normal lives. In other words, its a tourist destination.

I apologize, my friendly little blog, for being so scatter brained. I am typing as many words as I can get out in 15 minutes because using a computer with an Internet connection in a Main Street coffee shop is $2.50/15 minutes and I have been without my catharsis for so long. I know. I could always keep a journal...maybe I will.

We will be spending more time together in the near future, because the cable man is coming Thursday. For what I deem to be an exorbitant amount of money I will have high speed Internet access and cable. If I were more clever I might say - Cable and Internet:$69.99 a month; Being connected to the world during winter: priceless. And This is my life.

Well - I shall say good bye for now because I need money for candy more than I need to share things with the Internet abyss.

See you Thursday, Friend.

Why Do People Say...

2008-06-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

I always find the English language an interesting creature to study - especially under the literal lens. Here is an observation I made only recently, although I've encountered this phrasing many a-time:

"That's not a bad idea."

My boss told me the other day that an idea I had wasn't bad. The inflection in his voice added a little something to the statement - it sounded almost like surprise.

So. What we have established is that my idea was not bad, and the fact that I had an idea that wasn't bad is a surprise to those I work with.

I know that this is not the message my boss was trying to convey. I know that (at least in this case) my boss believed my idea was not ONLY "not bad," it was good. So why not just opt for the affirmative: "good idea"? That would be better for morale if you have employees who dissect your statements and take them literally.

But seriously.

Why do people even say, "Not too bad" or similarly backhanded compliments. I would have to do some research on this, but I have a theory. Whoever first uttered these words probably did so at a time in history when paying compliments seemed to show a sign of weakness. This sort of philosophy still has some weight in small towns where "the women are strong and the men are good looking." Strong, silent types often have farms, milk cows, drive tractors and say, "Not too bad."

Small-town Journalism

2008-06-24T14:15:00.000-07:00

Minnesota is divided into two geographical locations that clearly establish the "us" and the "them" of the state. There are the "Twin Cities" or even "The Cities" (Minneapolis and St. Paul) and the rest of "us" - also known as "Greater" Minnesota. At least this is my understanding of the term - I am a foreigner (originally from Wisconsin) so I could be misunderstanding something - if that's the case, bear with me.

"Greater" is not intended to be an assessment of the quality of the state beyond the Twin Cities, but rather the quantity of land and people beyond them. It's a tidy, yet meaningless blanket term applied to everyone and everything not associated with these two densely populated areas of the state.

Since there is so much MORE of Minnesota than "The Cities" it's unsurprising that I ended up working for an agriculture newspaper in one of the many small communities that make up the "Greater" part of the state. The county where I live has a special claim to fame, because there are more cows than people here.

During my short but shining career as a small-town journalist, I have worked in three different communities for three different papers; I interned at another during college. I have learned a lot since I graduated in 2003.

When I was a journalism student, there were several miscommunications that took place during my Mass Communication education: 1) Most journalists work for large daily papers and cover fascinating topics; 2) Journalists get a decent salary -- eventually; 3) Weekly papers are inferior and for sissies.

What I have learned since then: 1) Most "average to good" journalists work for small daily papers, or even weekly newspapers. There is only ONE Star Tribune and ONE Pioneer Press and they are EVER downsizing their staffs! Most large markets are controlled by tyrannies - lorded over by one massive paper that is more than likely a merger of many papers over many years. This is just the way it is. Competition (at least in the traditional sense of newspaper vs. newspaper) is dead in most markets. 2) Journalists sacrifice more than they make in time, money and lifestyle. 3) Weekly newspapers rock. Thank you weekly newspapers - for keeping me employed even when we have had our differences.

Bring on the Cheesy Goodness

2008-06-24T08:55:00.000-07:00

In only a few short days I will be making the 445 mile-trip to the "old country." I can't wait! As usual, the next few days will be dreadfully busy with packing and other preparations. Ella's reservation at the doggy boarding house has been made, more dog treats have been bought, and she will be ready to go! On my end, I have plenty of laundry to do so I have some clothes to wear when I am at home and my lawn will probably need to be mowed twice before I leave! Fat chance that will happen. Oh how I wish I could cultivate a yard full of Minnesota native prairie grasses.

Friday night I plan to visit with my moniker-squared BFF Trish in Madison. I cannot wait to see her short hair cut! Unfortunately, it was cut super short a month or two ago, so by the time I am seeing it, it will not be as dramatic; I am still excited though. I love to see Trish and hang out and the cool farmhouse where she lives. She has been working on a flower garden, which will be very cool to see, even though it will be at night. I will take photos if possible.

Saturday TBM and I are going on a pre-birthday shopping trip, which will enable me to acquire some new clothing in a no-holds-barred scenario (i.e. many merchandise are "gifted to me" so I will actually get more than one item, and it will probably be something other than a black or white T-shirt). Stacy and Clinton would be so proud of me! I am looking for two pairs of dress shoes/boots in black and brown; a pair of new tennis shoes that have never seen cow-shit would also be nice. I already have two nice pairs of dress slacks, so some tops are in order. I could use a good Khaki pant, too, but nothing too light.

Sunday is the "family BBQ" formerly known as my Grandma W's birthday celebration. We are all so special in my family...

Monday through Wednesday I will be in Door County! I am excited because it is my first trip to Cherry Orchard Town!

Wednesday I will be stopping in Green Bay - my first trip to that town that is not work related. I hope I will get to see something more interesting than the inside of a newly built hospital that requires construction clean-up!

Thursday thru Friday I want to TAKE IT EASY! Leave me alone to bond with the family and the new doggie - Goliath. I will see if he is as amazing as TBM would have the world believe.

Saturday back to MN to get my boo-boo from the boarding house and back in her own bed!

Fun fun!

Lord Help Us All

2008-06-17T10:23:00.000-07:00

I changed my blog! All by myself! Granted, I accidentally deleted my links and will have to fix some stuff, but right now, I am pretty proud of myself. It took me many hours because I am new to all of the programs but I am satisfied that I could make-over one aspect of my life relatively quickly. Yeay.

A Sink Full of Spoons

2008-05-31T17:12:00.000-07:00

Because my normal diet of food I "prepare" at home consists mostly of cereal, frozen dinners and yogurt, I run out of spoons far more quickly than a normal person. Although the spoons pile up in the sink, it seems silly to dedicate too much water and soap to such a meager amount of "dishes." Instead, I eat with every type of spoon I have until there are no more.

First I use the dinner spoons, then move on to the soup spoons. After exhausting the supply of soup spoons, I use my two grape fruit spoons with the serrated scooper.

Finally, I use my measuring spoons - all but the Tablespoon because it won't fit into my yogurt container. If I still haven't amassed enough dirty dishes to make a washing worthwhile, I eat my yogurt with forks. Once the forks are gone, I must get to washing.

Disenchantment

2008-05-31T13:34:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking that I should rename my blog "Domestic Me." I feel like I in any waking hours that are not dedicated to my job I am a slave to my domestic duties. Is this what life is - a series of tasks that must be repeated over...and over...and over again? And that is if you are lucky.

If you aren't lucky, you are living in a third world country or some other awful circumstance just struggling to survive so that one day you too can be a slave to everyday tasks.

When I was very young, I thought the best thing about being a "grown up" was that you could eat ice cream late at night - and as much as you wanted. Now that I have done that, I am starting to feel like there is not much else to look forward to in adult life.

My "adult" life consists of the following: doing laundry, vacuuming, washing dishes, cleaning, avoiding cleaning, putting off cleaning, wondering why the place is such a mess, mowing the lawn, having the lawn mower die so I can't finish, folding laundry, taking showers, drying hair, putting on make up, shaving legs and arm pits, curling hair, and going to work so I can afford to do it all over and over again.

You never REALLY finish any domestic tasks. The laundry WILL get dirty and need to be washed, line dried (if your dryer doesn't work - like mine) and folded AGAIN. It's really maddening. I can't believe how long people have been doing these things without one day spontaneously combusting. Some days I just want to throw my lawn mower off of a bluff in southeastern Minnesota and laugh maniacally until men in white coats carry me away. Of course that is only a temporary solution. Eventually it would be decided that I am competent enough to work at McDonald's and mow my own lawn again - or live in an apartment where that is that landlord's responsiblity.

Gone to the Dogs

2008-05-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

The pet magazine I was freelancing for is shutting down without something short of divine intervention. I am trying to brainstorm ways to prevent its demise that are practical and cost-effective; unfortunately "practical" and "cost-effective" are not my areas of expertise.

Evidence of Negativism Magnetism

2008-05-27T11:56:00.000-07:00

This weekend I saw "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." Overall, the film was unsurprising, but I don't think that has to be a bad thing. It was kind of like a warm embrace from an old friend - comforting in it's familiarity. Among the little gold nuggets the film shook out, there was one idea - one comment - in particular I took with me from that theatre.

In dialogue between Professor Jones and Dean Charles Stanforth, Stanforth said the following: "We've reached the age where life stops giving you things and starts taking them away."

Reasons for My Month-Long Hiatus

2008-05-16T18:23:00.000-07:00

I would tell you why I have been absent from my blog for a month, but none of my reasons are that interesting, they are merely run-of-the-milll ordinary boring excuses. Oh well, here they are anyway - in no particular order:

o My computer was gone for a week, it had some malware (bad, nasty computer stuff) on it, so a friend was exercising the demons;

o I dedicated most of my waking hours to what is the biggest project of the year for work, although my boss is cooking up some more "stuff" to make the most of my locked in weekly salary;

o I was sick. A small amount of unpleasantness lingers on, but for the most part I have recovered;

o My car was gone for a while and in need of repair, which put me in crabby mood;

o My dryer took a lesson from my stove and decided to start cooking my clothes, which also put me in crabby mood;

o I have been spending all of my free time following the dog around with a vacuum;

o My landlord left me a lawn mower that doesn't work and everyone else has mowed except for me. On the brightside, I now know my property boundaries;

o I had to figure out how to put up a clothesline since my dryer isn't working - not as easy as it looks and my clothes are almost touching the ground;

and... after all of that ... I have just not felt like writing!

The good news is; I am back. And since Spring TRULY appears to have sprung, I should be done with the bad attitude graphs for a good six months. I hope.

No Country for Critics of Cohen Brothers

2008-04-17T09:22:00.000-07:00

For months I have lived in a world where it appeared that I was one of two people in America who (admitted) not being impressed by the Cohen brother's movie, "No Country For Old Men." Today is a day that I feel validated.

Dana Stevens, a movie critic for Slate.com and a screenwriter, put into words - more concisely than I ever could - the flaws of the movie whose Oscar-success and mainstream admiration confound and disappoint me. So rather than dedicate a blog to my analysis of the movie (which has been a LONG TIME in coming) I will direct my "readers" who are interested (if there are any) to her review. That is pretty much exactly how I feel and I am glad someone could articulate it for me!

As Promised...

2008-04-14T08:35:00.001-07:00

EXPLANATIONS:

WEATHER: The snow is melting, which is a good thing... but the white clumps (even as they slowly - ever so slowly - evaporate, disintegrate, and/or muddy up the streets) are a reminder that the Midwest clings to winter even as everyone else is saying, "Hello, Mr. Springtime." The Calendar, try as he might to move winter along, (the First Day of Spring, according to the Calendar, was March 20..*hint, hint*) is always put in his place by Mother Nature. Assigning deadlines to seasons is an arbitrary, human policy that unfortunately means very little to the greater powers of the universe.

WORK: My bosses fired my friend and co-worker so I am very bummed. They tried to convince me it is best for everyone. In the long-run, this is probably true; but in the immediate future it is only best for them.

Just Kidding

2008-04-10T11:52:00.000-07:00

I hate myself for saying that winter is gone and making a mockery of Mother Nature's authority. Apparently she has been offended by my insolence and as a result, is threatening to bury me - and my fellow Smalltownians - in 15 to 20 inches of snow over the course of the next three days.

An updated "Bad Attitude Pie Graph" will follow.

Winter Doesn't Live Here Anymore

2008-04-02T16:41:00.000-07:00

When I got home from work I made a decision: I was going to rollerblade.

Only four hours earlier I wouldn't have considered this an option. Four hours earlier, Mother Nature was dumping soppy snowflakes upon us for the umpteenth time. Then merciful sunshine intervened, turning those little pesky flakes into shallow sidewalk puddles.

As I sped on down the freeway, making my way back to work from a farm at about 5:30 p.m., I assessed the walking/biking trail. Rollerblading on winter's coattails can be risky: as evening approaches, the air cools and turns harmless puddles into sheets of black ice. Rollerblading on a day such as today could either be very exhilerating, or potentially dangerous.

At home after work I consulted with the dog.

ME: What do you think?
ELLA: I'm game. I'd really like to pump up my cardio program before I have to go to the vet again. Jerk.
ME: If we go, you have to promise to be a good dog, and not pull me anywhere. And if there is a hint of snow or ice, you must slow down.
ELLA: What are you so afraid of? This wouldn't be the first time you fell down this year.

She was correct. March alone boasted three noteworthy falls:

Fall No. 1 took place in early March - in the shower. I fell sideways out of the tub when I was trying to wash my left foot while balancing on my right leg.

Fall No. 2 took place the day I came home for Easter break. I was in my "bedroom" and one of the area rugs I stepped on bunched up right as I stepped forward and I wiped out, nearly hitting the back of my head on the floor - close call.

Fall No. 3 happened just last week. I was on a farm, taking notes and roaming about in my plastic biohazard "booties," which are required attire. Seems like a smart way to keep cattle safe, but people - not so much: this practice is the equivalent of tying a plastic bag around each foot and hopping around in ankle-deep sludge. Guess who falls - arse over tea kettle - onto a thick blanket of mud?

I had fallen all of these times, and put myself at risk of potential bodily harm - and for what grand prize? To have clean feet? To turn off a light? To write yet another story about cows and the people who milk them?

If I am to be hurt because I fall, let it be because I live boldly; not because I shower thoroughly.

So, rollerblading I went! The pathway was really quite clean and I avoided the onset of evening with the accompanying scary black ice. April 2, 2008 - spring has sprung. Winter doesn't live here anymore.

Bad Attitude

2008-04-02T07:57:00.000-07:00

I am sorry dear blog, I haven't felt like writing lately. This is mostly because I have been consumed by crabbiness. I have learned I can write quite well when I am throwing a pity party, or when I feel I have something profound to say (even if it is not perceived by others as profound), but not when I am necessarily crabby. And crabby is what I have been. There are a number of reasons for my crabby demeanor (See "Bad Attitude Pie Chart" below).

As you can see, work and general self-loathing take the bulk of the blame, but not far behind is PMS and the weather.

Crap.

It just started snowing again....

I may have to update the chart.

Celebrating Easter in Wisconsin

2008-03-27T07:29:00.000-07:00

What is Easter in Wisconsin without 12 inches of snow? I think it is safe to say we are all ready for spring. But, as usual, Ella is able to make the best out of a bad situation.

What Does It All Mean?

2008-03-13T18:00:00.001-07:00

Ella and I went for a walk tonight. For the first time, I was able to really see what my neighborhood looks like. Daylight-Saving Time really didn't do me any favors, though. The most memorable sights were as follows (and in no particular order): a lot of soggy looking yards, a Christmas wreath on the door of one house, a pile of fluorescent leaf bags with jack-o-lantern faces piled high along the side of another, and dogs - everywhere - barking. Unleashed Dog even left his yard to keep Ella and I company on our walk; Ella did not appreciate the intrusion. She said as much in her nastiest, snarliest voice. Unleashed Dog then wandered into the road, lingering in the middle of a well-travelled intersection. An SUV approached slowly, and laid on the horn. Unleashed Dog was wide-eyed and apparently frozen, so I summoned him in my most welcoming doggy voice and posed myself in what is considered in the dog world to be a "friendly and playful" stance. Unleashed Dog then dashed across the street to join us, despite Ella's very inhospitable demeanor.

How does the story end? What happened next is too difficult, and not interesting enough, to explain. Suffice it to say that Unleashed Dog took his leave. He dashed safely across the street but not in the direction of home, which concerned me. Ella and I concluded our walk. Once she was fed and watered, I slipped out of the house to collect Unleashed Dog. Or at least look for him until I was convinced that he was safely home.

I didn't have to walk far to spot him. He was not alone. It was dark, so the person with the hand around his collar was hard to distinguish. "Is that your dog?" I asked. A very pre-pubescent male voice answered from the dark: "Yes." I asked him if he would like my leash, which I brought to collect his dog. He politely replied "No, thank you." The tone in his young voice said clearly that this was the end of our social encounter.

On the short walk home, I had a chance to inspect an object on the ground that had been of great interest to Ella on our walk. I hurried her away from it because it looked like either a dead animal, or a chocolate covered rabbit. I was half right. It was a small, stuffed rabbit that looked as if it had been dipped into a mud fondue fountain. I picked it up by the ear, which was the only clean area on its little body, and carried it home.

Why? I don't know. I can't tell you. Maybe its the same reason why I rescued a boxelder bug from the sink as I prepared a dish-soap bath for the tar baby rabbit I pulled off the road; or put a yellow-rose corsage into a water-filled vase. Maybe its the same reason I talk to my mail when I take it out of the box...could there actually be a good reason for that?

In many ways, the world just seems to me to be a very fragile place. But now, perhaps, I am just projecting...

Comparing Apples to Apples

2008-03-12T13:19:00.000-07:00

To the man who said comparing two similar item is like comparing apples to apples, I issue this challenge: Look around the produce section at today's grocery store. Comparing the different kinds of apples to one another is like comparing apples to oranges!

The stores where I normally do my shopping have a ridiculously large selection of apples - there is the Gala, the Pink Lady, the Rome, the "Java" (which I am still not sure what that means) the Golden Delicious, the Delicious, the Granny Smith, the Braeburn, the Jonagold, the Fuji, the McIntosh and the newest edition - the "Grapple" - which looks like an apple but is said to taste like a grape. Why you would try to make an apple that taste like a grape when you already have something that tastes like a grape, GRAPES, is unbeknownst to me and for the sake of this blog -neither here nor there.

All apples, I know, are NOT created equal, in fact, they have many more differences than similarities: texture, taste, size, color. All they really have in common are the general shape - and yet in this there are many differences. The McIntosh is short and round, for example, while the Delicious is long and oval shaped. Then of course there are all of the organic varieties.

I was once like the "apples to oranges" man. I thought, "Eh, an apple is an apple."

Not so, I now say.

If you replace my McIntosh with ANY OTHER VARIETY (and I do challenge you) I will notice. In my humble opinion, the McIntosh apple is far superior to others. It is sweet, and white fleshed; not too hard, with a very pleasant, smooth texture that is not crumbly or spongy. It is crisp and juicy. Yum. Consider this my official endorsement for the McIntosh apple.

Fighting Illiteracy

2008-03-10T14:32:00.000-07:00

This weekend I completed a (free) 12-hour training session to become a tutor in my community. After getting some paperwork filled out and my background check, I will be approved to help the illiterate learn to read. I will also be able to help those who are learning English as a second language learn to read, write and speak. The training session was sponsored by the Minnesota Literacy Council

Creature Comforts

2008-03-07T09:14:00.000-08:00

I share my domicile with a hyperactive dog and a small army of boxelder bugs. The most I have ever seen at one time are two, and since I don't kill them, I don't know if each sighting is a new sighting or just the same bug(s) making the rounds.

Ella hates our box elder bug neighbors. She always has. The first time she saw one was at our old apartment. I was asleep and woke to find Ella hovering over me, her ears dangling down and her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall above my head. Behold - box elder bug.

Ella has recently discovered that we have box elder bugs in our new place. For whatever reason, box elder bugs really bother Ella - believe the reason to be because they move. After she spots them moving she flies from wherever she has perched herself to investigate. She sniffs, licks, then stomps. Rarely is this method a successful means of terminating the box elder bug, although it does effectively disable them, temporarily. This appears to be all that Ella wants.

Lucky box elder bugs are rescued (by the sympathetic human in the house) and returned to a safer dwelling place. If they are wise, they will stay away and tell their friends - there is a box elder bug hunting dog in the house!

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Justification

2008-03-07T08:27:00.000-08:00

I wanted to eat cheesecake. Not a single piece, but an entire cake. Turtle cheesecake, to be more specific. I was in Wal-Mart buying "sanitary napkins" - standing in line - hating everyone.

If I could find a cheesecake, I knew I could find peace.

I looked at my small basket of items: the generic brand of sanitary napkins, some Jiffy pellets, seeds for African Daisies and Cherry tomatoes, and some foam wedges for make up removal. I dumped my items on the conveyor belt. I proudly displayed the generic brand of "sanitary napkins" so the man behind me could see them.

I hated the man behind me.

He had a few more items than me and he had followed quickly behind me as I chose a checkout line - as if he was determined to figure out which of the shortest lines in the store I was going to choose and how to get in front of me. I wanted him to see my "pads;" yes pads. Because that is what they are. The truth is, I use napkins at a restaurant to wipe food off of my face. I stick "pads" in my underwear during menstruation. They are not interchangeable. But whatever you want to call them, I wanted man-behind-me to see them and know I am a dangerous woman. I had "Super absorbent" pads, which meant I should be as intimidating as a motorcycle babe carrying a crowbar.

I looked him dead in the eye. He gave me the wide-eyed-blissfully-ignorant-man look.

Back off buddy.

Feeling better about instilling the fear of hormones into man, I returned to thoughts of turtle cheesecake. I was confident I could eat a whole cheesecake tonight if the opportunity presented itself. It just so happened I knew a place where I could buy a piece....or two..... but that would be a little indulgent, wouldn't it? But then I wasn't sure it was a matter of "wanting" the cheesecake, as much as it was a matter of needing it. Its rich, chocolate, creamy goodness. Cheesecake. (Confession: I had actually had a sliver with lunch (my boss's treat). But that wasn't turtle cheesecake...)

At last the woman with the scanning device slid my items down the line and rescued me from the ants-in-his-pants man behind me, who undoubtedly had some REALLY important engagement to attend to. He pushed his cart as if to shuffle me down the line.

I glared at him.

The pads were in a bag now, so he was feeling brave. I paid the clerk and cast one more withering glance at the evil man. I wished PMS upon him and walked away.

I then shifted back to more pleasant thoughts....cheesecake.

I couldn't have cheesecake. I knew I couldn't. Not again. Not the same day. Even if I AM PMSing. It was just calorically irresponsible. If I don't lose weight before I go on vacation I at least don't want to GAIN any!

I ended up getting a healthy roasted chicken sandwich at Subway...and two chocolate chip cookies. Hey - at least it wasn't cheesecake!

My Top 10 Most Overrated

2008-03-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

In their respective categories, these items & people take the cake for being the most overrated and in some cases most annoying by their ubiquitous-ness.

Kenny Chesney & Rihanna (Most Overrated Singers in their respective musical genres)
No Country For Old Men (Most Overrated Oscar-award winner)
Eli Manning (Most Overrated Athlete)
Paris Hilton (Most Overrated Celebrity)
Vanilla (Most Overrated ice cream flavor)
Stephen King (Most Overrated writer)
Barrack Obama (Most Overrated political figure)
SNL (Most Overrated comedy show)
American Idol (Most Overrated reality TV show)
Lindsey Lohan (Most Overrated actress)

Congratulations. For whatever reason, people perceive all of you to be better than you actually are! Enjoy it.

Will the Real Gil Grissom Please Stand Up?

2008-02-27T10:10:00.000-08:00

In the absence of an appreciation for human life and/or a well-calibrated moral compass, the marvels of modern forensic science should definitely be enough to give a would-be "bad guy" a reason to take pause.

Last night, Mechanic Bob and I attended a presentation on one of the practical applications of forensic science: Crime Scene Investigation. Both Mechanic Bob and I got our introduction to "forensic science" in front of our respective boob tubes, watching episode of "CSI." During our careful study of the Hollywood-ified version of crime scene investigations, we saw well-coifed men and women collect evidence, haul it off to a lab, and eventually, "help" catch bad guys.

Whatever our motivation, natural curiosity or a desire to more deeply understand our favorite TV show, Mechanic Bob and I took a trip to the University (and down memory lane for me) to hear a REAL crime scene investigator speak about his craft.

CSI James has been working with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension since 1999. He majored in chemistry, thinking he would like to be a teacher, then eventually decided to pursue his master's. He worked in some labs for a while, then one day saw an ad for a job as a forensic scientist. He applied twice and was rejected twice. Then he attended a seminar presented by a leader of the MBCA and introduced himself. The men had lunch and "Prominent Man" gave CSI James some helpful feedback for his next interview. The rest is history.

CSI James is a specialist in "trace evidence" - that's the teeny, tiny stuff that can't been seen by the naked eye. He also is well studied in a number of other areas.

He said the crime scene teams (of as many as 25 qualified people) collect evidence and take it back to their lab for processing. He said about 100 people work in the lab.

Usually one scientist who is the leader of the team works directly with law enforcement to make sense of whatever happened.

CSIs are an impartial body, he said, whose job is just to analyze the evidence. The lawyers must use the evidence that they find to prove or disprove a case.

Besides learning all kinds of fascinating things (like the MBCA has about 6,000 firearms on file and burn patterns can help CSIs determine the source of a fire) I learned that the TV show isn't all that much like real life CSI - although I think it captures the best parts!

Afterward, Mechanic Bob pointed out that "forensics" is a word that is popping up in a lot of fields: there are "forensic accountants" for example, who investigate fraud and testify in court about their findings; or people who investigate computer hard drives - computer forensic experts.

Mechanic Bob thought perhaps he might be able to bring his own brand of expertise to a crime scene investigation as a "forensic mechanic." I think the position I am best suited for is one I currently hold: armchair forensic scientist.

I Will Surv-hive

2008-02-25T12:01:00.000-08:00

My doctor's visit made me none the wiser of my special little splotches. She suggested (prescribed) steroids. Supposedly this 5-day deal will cause the hives to go away. I am looking at my skin now and it appears there are only one or two that are really noticeable. Maybe they are going away on their own...I read that 70 percent of the cases of hives go unsolved....**Hmm**

Mystery Maladies

2008-02-25T08:11:00.001-08:00

Sometime Thursday night into Friday morning I developed hives. I am not sure from whence they came. The past three days, two or three doses of generic Benadryl have been keeping them somewhat under control. The side affect, however, is that Benadryl makes me super sleepy. Today is Monday and they are still blotching up my arms and legs, so I made an appointment for 11:40 a.m. to see if the medical community can offer up any explanation for what is going on with my body.

I am grateful that pants and long shirt sleeves are able to keep my splotchy skin under wraps and out of the public eye.

Weekend In Review

2008-02-25T07:45:00.000-08:00

The Blessid Mother (TBM) and The Wise One (TWO) came to town this weekend. Their last visit was about a year ago and a lot has changed in my life since then - the most obvious being the location of my domicile.

I went to great pains to make sure that everything was "just so" for their arrival. The good news is, that process took about half of the time it used too, since I have been doing a better job of keeping my house clean on a regular basis and clutter at a minimum.

They arrived late Friday evening, but just in time for a real treat: a fish fry at a local pub. This all-you-can-eat fish fry is the best kept secret in Central Minnesota, and I was delighted to share it with my parents who I consider to be fish fry connoisseurs. Saturday was spent doing some grocery shopping with Mom and computer rehabilitation with Dad. We also headed to the local lanes to roll some balls. The surprise MVP of the event was Mom. She was a great bowler many years ago when she was in a league, but since then she has had some hip and back problems that have prohibited her from rolling. I can't remember now what the final scores were, but I am pretty sure she spanked Dad in at least one game, which is funny because Dad has been bowling in a league for the past 2 years. I was really surprised. I performed above my most recent league average (106 - yuck) with a 118. I was having trouble connecting with the head pin. I partially blame my performance on a persistent case of hives that has been making me really itchy lately.

TBM and TWO left early Sunday morning in pretty foggy conditions, but thankfully they made it back to Wisconsin without any trouble.

'Rents

2008-02-22T08:49:00.000-08:00

The Blessid Mother and Wise One will be visiting this weekend!

It's been a very, very long time since they have made the journey to the great north to see their firstborn child (me). This is understandable, as their vacation weeks are limited and they would rather spend them baking in the sun than freezing their asses off.

I have a half day to complete my preparations and make sure my house is as perfect as possible. Wish me luck.

A Serious Commitment

2008-02-18T08:50:00.000-08:00

I have recently noticed, although I am sure it has been going on far longer than I have cared to acknowledge, I often refer to myself as "we." This makes sense for people who are married and have two brains making many of the decisions for a shared life, but not for a single-person, single-income, presumably single-brain household like mine. What is my excuse? I have a dog.

Ella is her name. She believes she is human - but that is neither here nor there.

Our lives are inextricably intertwined, and perhaps this is why if someone asks, "What did you do this weekend?" I find myself saying, "We just hung out at home." We, being of course, the dog and me.

"We" do a lot together, it turns out. "We" clean the house, surf the Internet, watch TV and do laundry. However, "I" perform the activities that take place outside of the house. "I" bowl, do the grocery shopping and go to work. Is it strange that I factor the dog into the equation when describing what goes on at home? I am not sure. I often call her "the dog" to remind myself she is just that, a DOG, but it doesn't seem to help.

I try to be careful who I say "we" around because the listener may a) become confused; b) think I am nuts; or c) all of the above. Still, sometimes it just slips out.

The truth is, as a single-twenty-something-year-old, 300 miles away from family, and about 90 miles from my closest friends, "the dog" is a very big part of my life. We do a lot of activities together (even if she doesn't actually help with the cleaning, the moral support is evident) and in some respects, she is like a significant other or a special friend - but better (in some respects). She is always delighted to see me, she never judges me, and she does not complain if I leave dirty laundry (especially underwear) out in the open. Sure, she leaves hair everywhere, but that's a minor inconvenience.

And let's not forget, she is super cute.

The World Gone Mad

2008-02-17T19:32:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I feel like the world is going mad. When I say "world" I mean the planets in the universe known as my life. Sameness is something that can be a blessing and a curse in life, but generally, I like a certain amount of "sameness" in my life. When the people in my life make changes in their lives, it makes me aware of the fact that words like "constant" and "unchanging" don't describe a real aspect of life. Nothing is ever really the same. Routines exist - this is true. Routines being the human way of trying to create sameness. Routines being a means of enforcing the illusion of sameness. But then, I am not talking about routines. I am talking about the world gone mad - or at least the planets in my world slipping out of an alignment I had accepted.

My sister has decided to move to Mexico. My sister is a blond-haired, blue-eyed American who has a fascination with the Mexican culture (if this weren't true, I don't know how she could be nearly bilingual) and a Mexican boyfriend she first made contact with on a family vacation last May. My sister is 23 and has the blessing of not having made any really big missteps in her life thus far -- I hope this doesn't turn out to be the first. She will be leaving for Mexico in about a month. I don't know the details of her plans. I do know she is going there without a job or a place of her own.

I find these things a little scary, despite having a good deal of faith in my sister. She has, in her life, always seemed to make good decisions -- or at least well-thought out.

I admire her sense of adventure - and after a year of living with Mom and Dad and working hard, she has been able to save enough money so she can afford to be a little more adventurous than your average 23 year old.

I know that the world hasn't really gone mad, and in time, I will be able to make the mental adjustments necessary to deal with my sister's move. I think perhaps my sister has a mental capacity for bigger dreams than I. My dreams are kind of small, and within what I consider a realistic scope of expectations. I guess I can't fault someone for having big dreams. I can, however, miss my little sister. And I will.

The Mailman Brings A Package

2008-02-15T12:38:00.000-08:00

A small package arrived for me at work today. I knew where it originated because the sender, Grandma Pat, contacted me in advance of the package's arrival, but I did not know what could be inside.

Grandma Pat is a no-nonsense kind of gal. She is well-read, and a honor student of life. She grew up in Winona, Minn. an area she has described as rather insular (and very humid in the summertime). She moved to the big city of Milwaukee when she was 19 years old and got a job working for that company that makes bowling balls oh-why-can't-I remember-the-name...

I have always thought Grandma Pat was very brave; leaving her family to go live in a strange place in another state. I don't know what Grandma was like as a girl, if her confidence, wisdom and unapologetic curiosity were traits she always embodied, or if they were developed over time. I have trouble imagining Grandma Pat any other way than straight-forward and fascinated by life.

There is a lot to love about Grandma Pat, besides the pre-made meals she sends home with me when I come and visit, or the apple sauce, or the strawberry jam, or the cookies at Christmas time (especially the frosted ones this year, oh yum). She loves her children, and her grandchildren, especially. She is the only person I know (besides my mother) who can randomly break into song and make it seem perfectly natural. She does not dwell on the bad things in life and never takes herself too seriously. She keeps the special things we grandchildren made for her when we were growing up. She is not afraid of the Internet (she may be the biggest fan of the e-mail forward button I know!) and is one of my only blog readers. (But I would never allow that to influence my objectivity).

Grandma Pat is a person who will randomly send a package to you in the mail just to let you know that she is out there -- and she is thinking of you. The world needs more people like that.

I feel lucky to have such a wonderful grandmother. (I Love You, Grandma ;-)

Just Another Thursday

2008-02-15T07:33:00.000-08:00

This morning a girl I work with greeted me as I entered my cubicle. She stood in the tiny opening, a mischievous expression on her face. The last time I saw such a look, she had transposed our boss's head on Brett Favre's body, so I asked her what she was up to. She flashed a shiny engagement ring and a smile to rival the diamond's sparkle. Her boyfriend proposed to her last night - on Valentine's Day.

I did something on Valentine's Day, too. It was not romantic in the least. Ex-fiance called me up. His alma mater was playing the local basketball team at the high school's gym. Ex-fiance intended on going to the game. Did I want to come? Considering the alternative (spending the night with TV boyfriend Gil Grissom doing autopsies and solving crimes) I agreed to go.

The team lost and we left the game early. Ex-Fiance offered to buy me dinner at the freeway truck stop. I am not in the habit of turning down free meals, so off we went. He was enjoying his eggs and bacon and I my BLT when in walked in his parents. Turned out they were in town for a wake. Ex-fiance half-heartedly invited them to join us in our tiny both. They did.

I would say it was awkward, but it was so beyond awkward, it was no longer awkward. It struck me as very, very funny. Because we were already half finished with our meals when they showed up, Ex-Fiance and I left before their food arrived, our dirty plates in a heap on the table. Ex-fiance tried to get the waitress to take them away, but she was oblivious. And so we left.

I feel bad for Ex-fiance. At least I won't see his parents for a while after this "incident." Surely his mom will have a million and one questions for him why he was "out" with me on Valentine's Day. Both of his parents have always been nice to me, even after our romantic relationship disintegrated. I got the feeling that his mom was somehow, relieved that he found someone to put up with him. When we broke it off, she assumed it was his fault - not a very motherly point of view. But then, she did raise him.

If only they would realize, for us, yesterday was not Valentine's Day at all - just another Thursday.

Valentine's Day Autopsy, Anyone?

2008-02-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

I have an important decision to make. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I haven’t decided to whom I will give my heart. I have two possible choices for “leading man” in my life – both will be somewhere on my cable TV tomorrow night. They are (drumroll please) Gil Grissom of CSI: Las Vegas and Horatio Caine of CSI: Miami.

Gil Grissom (William Petersen) is a forensic entomologist and the night-shift supervisor of the Clark County, Nevada CSI (forensics) team, investigating crimes in and around the city of Las Vegas. His hobbies include: Bugs, dead bodies, history, and quoting from a variety of literary sources, including Shakespeare and Keats.

Horatio Caine (David Caruso) is the Head of the Miami-Dade crime lab, a forensic analyst and former bomb-squad officer. He is a commissioned police officer, and thus carries a badge and gun. His hobbies include: Wearing black, helping people and putting bad guys behind bars.

Hmm....Grissom is emotionally unavailable and Caine is obsessed with catching criminals. Both sound so promising. Good thing I still have a few hours to think this thing through...

Thoughts of Love

2008-02-12T14:28:00.001-08:00

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

-Shakespeare

Three Cheers for Civic Duty & Holy Days of Obligation

2008-02-05T12:58:00.000-08:00

Voters in 24 states are going to the polls on today: Alabama, Alaska, American Samoa, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Kansas, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Missouri, Montana, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Utah and West Virginia.

As much as I am NOT looking forward to having to drive 20 miles to my caucus, barring any natural disaster I will be there at 6:30 p.m. to register. The good news is I won't have to stay and argue for two hours with my "neighbors" about issues: I can just fill out a presidential preference ballot. Thank goodness! This isn't to say I don't care about issues, but it's a Tuesday night of a publication week for me and I am super busy...I have stories to write, a dog to walk, exercises to do, etc. etc. Then I have to get up early tomorrow morning for the Ash Wednesday service before work, so I will need to get to sleep earlier tonight.

The Philosophising Farmer

2008-02-04T12:32:00.001-08:00

The man who was the subject of an interview that took three-plus hours, called me today to personally thank me for a job well done and to request that I mail him a few more copies. (Not because he "likes to toot" his "own horn," but because he has a lot of family who would like copies of the story. I find it endearing when people are so modest that they feel compelled to preface their requests for additional copies of an article about them with this sentence.)

The man also called to tell me why he liked the article and how he was pleased with his decision to allow me to print it without a pre-screening. The article gave him closure, which he really needed as he was leaving the dairy industry. I think it was a reaffirmation for him, too, to see in black and white the reasons behind his decision. I think this whole experience will prove useful when I come across people in the future who either a) object to being the subject of an article; or b) feel like they have to see the copy before it is printed.

In addition, the man told me he had thought about me after the story was written. (He has children my age so he meant this in a fatherly way). He said he believes my future will be filled with good things because I "have it coming." It's nice to here that "I have it coming" in THAT context. He also offered some romantic advice, telling me not to settle and to "keep shaking bushes" until something good falls out. I love people in rural communities - where else can you hear something like that? He also advised me not to cling to anyone with the hopes that someday I could change them - because I can't.

It was a dose of philosophy I wasn't expecting today, but it went down pretty well. Days like today I am glad to be a journalist.

Here is a snippet of the story about the man, whose name has been changed for the purpose of keeping my blog semi anonymous. NOTE: The story ran in advance of his retirement, which is why, taken out of context, the verb tenses may not make sense.

Dairyman Joe will complete the final chapter of his dairying career Monday, Jan. 28, when he takes his herd to the Smalltown Stockyard.

Joe, who farms with his wife, Elsie, has milked between 10-12 cows on his dairy operation the past 14 years without exception.

The beginning of the end of Joe's dairying days was in November, when he tore his left rotator cuff. He had milked through the pain for the past three months, hoping his body would heal itself; now the time has come for him to defer to the experts.

"I went to the doctor and he said, 'Dairyman, you're not connected,'" Joe said. "I will need to have surgery and after that I will have to do several months of rehabilitation. I am told the rehabilitation will be hard work."

But the last thing Joe is afraid of is a little hard work.

For the past 14 years, Joe has been milking between 12-15 cows in the stanchion barn his father built in 1963. Little has changed on the farm since then.

Joe milks his cows with a Surge bucket milker. After the bucket is full, he transfers the milk to a stainless steel 5-gallon pail. Joe then carries the pail into the milk room where he pours the milk through a strainer and into his 160-gallon bulk tank. He repeats this process for each cow. Milking 12 cows usually takes Joe about an hour and a half.

For manure handling, Joe doesn't use a skid loader or a barn cleaner, but a manure carrier. The manure carrier runs on a track traveling down the middle of his barn. Joe estimated the manure tub holds waste from about four animals. The waste is then carried out of the barn about 60 feet and dumped either onto a pile or into the manure spreader. Cleaning the barn takes about 45 minutes.

Reporter vs. writer

2008-01-27T11:03:00.000-08:00

A lot of things that have been happening in my life lately have lead me to the conclusion that - barring some kind of crazy, unforeseen event - I am going to remain a journalist for probably the next 20 years. At that point I can think about going back to school and being a journalism professor. I think that sounds good.

I really wrestled with the whole journalism thing my first three years out of college. Honestly, I wasn't prepared for the reality that existed beyond the safety of the campus walls, where I feared nothing. I have come to believe that just like some people are "right brained" or "left brained," journalists can also be divided into two camps: those who are "genetically" more "reporter," and those who are more "writer." Those with more "reporter" genes, are those who will seek the truth until the ends of the earth and ask the hard questions - sometimes even when there are really no "hard answers" to be found. They are either not easily intimidated by nature, or are so bound by the power of their convictions, they can overcome intimidation. Those with more "writer" genes, may still want to seek the truth, but are more easily intimidated. We would rather ponder the telling of the story, the words, the rhythm of the piece, etc. I definitely have more writer than reporter genes. The good news is, after three four years of being at this, I am becoming less intimidated by topics, and people. I have come to stop looking at people I interview as hit and run accidents. ( i.e. interview them one time, then disappear from their lives forever). Really, good reporting is part of relationship-building. Recognizing this has made my life much easier.

Both the reporter and writer can become better at the areas where they are less naturally gifted by practice, which is a good thing.

What a Week

2008-01-27T10:17:00.000-08:00

Tuesday

I drove two hours to Pelican Rapids to conduct an interview. I arrived around 4:30 p.m. and didn't depart until about 7:30 p.m. I have mixed feelings about interviews lasting this long. My instinct is to say - wow - that is waaaay to long to be conducting an interview for a story that will be somewhere other than the front page. An interview that runs too long is dangerous because of its ability to create information overload in the mind of the reporter/interviewer. However, the more time you spend with the person you are interviewing, the more accurate a picture you are able to paint of them in your story - no matter how abbreviated. The day after the interview, my editor actually received a call from the man I interviewed, vehemently praising me. He said our "interview" was like a conversation, and nothing like he expected (this being a good thing). Initially, this man only agreed to do a story if he could read the article before it ran; he told my boss on the phone that he trusted me and he didn't need to see the story. That is a great compliment.

Wednesday

I hustled my hinder at work so I could skip out early, around four, and meet my broadcasting journalism buddy in St. Paul, Minn. for a media workshop (which is actually a 10 week course) sponsored by the police department. The chief of police, a training Sergeant and various others spoke at the introductory class. Unfortunately for me, the inaugural class focused only on the history of the St. Paul PD. It was interesting, but not particularly relevant to me since I don't, and probably won't ever, live in St. Paul. The information they are planning to cover in the future classes - how police approach a crime scene, the difference between misdemeanors and felonies and which city/county agencies work with the department, Q&As with investigators/detectives (the difference between the police department ranks) - promise to be more interesting. I only intended to go to one class, but I am really fascinated by these topics - so I hope to continue to attend the class.

After the class, my buddy took me out to dinner at this place called "Cafe Latte" where we had some tasty soup and pasta salad. Then she gave me a tour of the television station where she worked and I was able to watch the anchors deliver the first segment of the 10 o'clock news -- Live! It was a rockin' good time! I was really pumped after such a great night.

Thursday

I woke up around 5:30 a.m. to hurry up and pack my stuff for the Minnesota Newspaper Convention, get myself looking all fine and professional, and take my doggy to the Puppy Boarding House. I got on the road, Bloomington-bound at about 8 a.m. I checked into the Sheraton hotel and got situated. Then I took a little nap before my first seminar because I was exhausted. The highlight of my day was the luncheon, where career journalism and WCCO anchor DON SHELBY shared his thoughts on the First Amendment and the challenges facing journalists today. I could write an entire blog on it. It was really emotional and insightful. After his speech, I was able to introduce myself to him, shake his hand, and mumble something silly and high school girl-ish about how he is my favorite anchor. (see "Dear Mr. Gable: You Made Me Love You," as sung by Judy Garland). I also enjoyed sitting in on a seminar about small-town journalism that feature a panel of newspaper editors, including my former editor. I was able to ask a question that had been plaguing me and received a somewhat satisfactory answers. It was so great to be around so many people from small town papers (of varying sizes) and listen as they shared their struggles and triumphs.

Afterward, I reconnected with a lot of my college friends who have gone on to work at newspapers, mostly moderately sized weeklies. One friend even won a second place award. I was very excited for him! I know how fun it is to win an award at MNA (even if my present editor makes like its no big deal). Plus he is a pretty talented writer, so I know the award is deserved. The paper where I used to work took home about seven awards at this year's convention (according to my friends/colleagues there). I was glad to be able to congratulate them. Soon they will need to put up more walls in the building to accommodate their growing number of awards.

My current boss (not to be confused with editor) took all of my paper's staff (mostly sales reps and me)to dinner and it was nice because I really got to know the rest of the staff more intimately (especially the sales rep I roomed with - she is something else!). Attending a sales meeting also gave me a better idea of how the other half lives. We don't always understand each other, but we need each other to be viable!

Friday

I attended two rockin' seminars - one about photography/web video, which is all the rage now. It's really exciting and overwhelming at the same time. I hope to be able to put together web videos someday. It seems like tremendous fun (and work) plus it will increase my marketability. The second seminar was about writing better leads (the first paragraph of the article/story). I was psyched to learn that I was already employing a lot of the techniques the speaker described as effective (and sometimes the one he described as less effective.) The funny thing is, I think we small town journalists all learned the less effective technique from looking at the New York Times and Washington Post, which we automatically assume are the poster children for effective, professional, journalistic writing. All in all I had a FANTASTIC time at the MNA convention, learned a lot, reconnected with a lot of old friends/colleagues/editors/teachers, and am pumped for my future in journalism! Yeay!