The Known Unknown

I’m going to do something I didn’t plan on doing – today or really ever. I’m going to defend Gwyneth Paltrow. I know, right? 

Now, look, I don’t hate anyone. Period. I just don’t. There is a small handful of folks whom I love deeply…within an inch of their life. Outside of that group, there’s another, slightly larger, parcel of folks whom I enjoy for one reason or another and would, proverbially, of course, pee on them if they were proverbially on fire. Then there’s the rest of the world’s population…roughly seven billion people, give or take 200.

So, Gwyn made the news again yesterday for another snotty, entitled comment, this time likening her celebrity lifestyle to that of a soldier. I’m paraphrasing. Here’s what she was actually overheard to say:

“You come across [online comments] about yourself and about your friends, and it’s a very dehumanizing thing. It’s almost like how, in war, you go through this bloody, dehumanizing thing, and then something is defined out of it,” Paltrow said at the conference. “My hope is, as we get out of it, we’ll reach the next level of conscience.”

Without having met her or knowing her, I will say my opinion of her is not great. I think she’s out of touch with reality, and she lives in a different world. The things she does and says, at times, make her appear to be indifferent, spoiled, and pretentious. She may be all of those things and more, but it’s not fair for me, or anyone, to judge her without knowing the whole story.

I try to be empathetic in my daily walk around this blue marble. The waitress who didn’t get my order right may have an abusive husband. The person driving the car in front of me who just sat through the entire green arrow may have just lost their job. 

This isn’t to say I am Ghandi or the Dalai Lama or some other highly enlightened person. I get irritated and run short of both temper and patience, and I demand excellence from everyone around me. Ask my husband.

So, to be fair to Gwyn, I’ll say this. She does live in a different world. And that’s not good or bad. It’s just, well, different. Her normal is not your normal and it’s not mine and mine’s not hers. Isn’t that what makes this blue marble great in the first place?

Quit While You're Ahead

I looked down and my belt was twisted. Yesterday, I wore a dress with a belt and I noticed it was twisted. I tried a couple of times running along the belt, all the way around, trying to work it out, and finally came to the realization that I was going to have to undo it, untwist it, and try again. The whole process took 20 seconds, but it made me recognize that sometimes, with wardrobes and in life, you have to stop, hit the reset button, and try again.

We’re told over and over to be persistent. That “winners never quit and quitters never win.” To “finish what you start.” But sometimes, all you need to do is fall back, regroup, and try it again. Have you ever reached out to your company’s IT department for technical support? What’s their first suggestion? “Have you restarted?” Maybe they’re onto something.

“Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.”

                                                                                                      --James 1:2

On my way to work today in rush hour traffic, I came to a spot that requires six lanes to merge into four. It’s your classic bottleneck situation. Every morning at this particular spot, I search for - and often fight for - an opening. I’ll mutter things such as “go!” and “just get over!” and “idiot.” (Yes, I talk to my mother-in-law with this mouth.) I become frustrated with drivers on the phone, out-of-towners, and the less-experienced mergers. 

This morning, however, I couldn’t get in. I would move up towards a non-existent space, then fall back again. I kept plowing ahead, quickly running out of lane, and with nowhere to go. Then I did something completely foreign and deviant and unconventional. I slowed down. I fell back. And, lo, there was an opening and it had been there all along. I was trying so hard to work my way into a non-existent space when a perfectly good one had been waiting just for me mere inches away.

“…Sometimes you’re ahead. Sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.”

                                                                     --Baz Luhrmann, from
                                                “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)”

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

                                                                                                   --Galatians 6:9

The Way the Animal Cracker Crumbles

I have three true food vices. That means when I splurge/binge, it's usually on one of these three things. And, I make it a point not to bring these in the house as I have zero control and will eat the whole thing in no time flat, so it's a special treat.

 #1 is a bag of wavy lays and a tub of french onion dip. Even though I don't like sour cream (the main component in the dip) nor potato chips.

#2 is a package of regular Oreos (not double stuff or the ones with colored cream or those weird vanilla flavored ones) and ice cold, whole, vitamin D milk.

And the 3rd is frosted animal crackers (also good with vitamin D milk but not required as with #2.)

I went to Target one day last week at lunch (although it was more like 2 pm) to grab a few items in between meetings. I had been in endless meetings all morning, hadn't had lunch, and was starving. Target took forever. I remembered a couple extra items I needed to get and they're understaffed at the checkouts during the day. I was zipping through the grocery section when I saw these on an end cap:

The serving size is three cookies. Ha. This was going to be my lunch and my "mother-of-the-year" award for Army crawling into the last week of school. I threw them in the cart and my mouth began watering. 

Checked out. The woman was forever slow. Slow and trying to small talk about my stuff and I'm thinking, "Look lady, I've gotta get back for a meeting and the faster I have to drive, the fewer of these I'm gonna be able to shove in." 

Got to the car. Had to park a mile away as I didn't have the luxury of driving around and looking for a good space. Got out in main drive and was just about to pull out onto the main road when I unscrewed the lid and saw the paper/security top had been peeled back and partially removed. :( They'd been opened (and possibly eaten). 

I stared for a half second wondering if the five second rule applied. Wasn't I going to do the same thing? Did this perpetrator actually save me time? Uggh, no. It was some dirty kid or some high employee looking to steal a snack back in the stock room or some demented terrorist trying to take down the American public, one frosted animal cookie lover at a time.

So I ​turned around and drove back up there completely deflated. I parked in the fire lane and ignored the ugly stares from fellow shoppers. I ran in to customer service with my jug o' cookies and my receipt. In my mind, I pictured them being so apologetic that they would offer me a lifetime supply of frosted animal cookies or, at least, to go back and get another tub so I didn't have to go myself. 

Instead, when the man finally moseyed up to the desk, he seemed completed unaffected by the whole story, scanned my receipt, scanned the cookies, some paper shot out of the register, and he handed it to me, mumbling, "it went back on your card. Sorry about that." What? You just gave me a refund? No. I want the cookies! I can't eat this receipt! 

I looked across the store and at the far corner where the grocery is (and my cookies) and knew I didn't have the time or will to walk back, get another box, and stand in line again. I walked out to my illegally parked car, feeling wronged by Target and the universe. Instead of my cookies, I had a piece of gum on the way back to work. I swear I heard the faint giggle of the saved calories.

Today's To Do List

Making Plans

I don't know what the day holds, but I know Who does. 

Hope today is a good one.

Social Butterfly

Social media. The ugly, the bad, and the kind of great.

Ugly

Envy.  

Lust.  

Jealousy.

Bad

Looking at pictures of people I don’t really care about, just to be nosy.

Dealing in falsehoods:  Being tempted to wish someone a happy birthday or say “thinking about you” just because FB prompted me to and not because I have genuine feelings about that person.

Having a screen between me and my family.

Great

Buy/Sale/Trade sites

Brainstorming and sharing ideas. Problem solving.

Getting friends’ recommendations without paying for service like Angie’s List.

Pinterest

Etsy & Jane & PickYourPlum

A sense of community.

Summertime

Oh, Summer, you're so close I can feel you. And hear you. And smell you. I've missed you. Yes, soon, I will be cursing you and longing for cooler nights and the structure and stability of a school-year schedule. But, for now, I welcome you with open arms.

The ABCs of Summer

Adjusting to relaxed schedules and later bedtimes
Beach
Citronella
Driving to fun destinations
Exploring…new places & activities and  favorite places & activities
Friends and family
Grass, freshly mown

Hot dogs at a baseball game
Ice cold drinks
Just chillin’
Kissing in the orangey-yellow fading light of a sunset
Lightning bugs
Mosquitoes
Nighttime serenades of tree frogs and crickets
Ocean
Pools
Quiet, stolen moments curled up on the sofa, or in a hammock
Running barefoot
Sun-kissed skin (and the smell of sunscreen)
Throwing meat on a sizzling grill
Updating and upgrading….the yard, the house, your life, your outlook
Viewing the world through sunglasses for three, whole months
Watermelon  

X-Rays (it happens…hopefully not this year)
Yard sales on Saturday mornings
Zzz….a dreamy summer siesta nap

Half-Empty Rose-Colored Glasses

A former pastor used to say this about life -- 

you’re either coming out of a storm, heading into one, or you’re in one right now as I speak.

When you think about the ebb and flow of life, this certainly rings true.

The realist in me says, “that makes sense. We’re not promised rainbows and sunshine all the time, right? Into each life, a little rain must fall.”

The pessimist in me says, “it’s just a matter of time until the next rainstorm. Enjoy the rug while it’s still under your feet.”

The optimist says, “Now, come on, don’t be so negative. It’s not all bad. It’s not even half bad. Enjoy the good while you have it. Soak it up and bank it like a bank account for happiness. Then, when it does rain, you can dip into your supply.”

Grinding the Ax

"A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."

                                                                                  --Winston Churchill



Jill Abramson has been in the news lately. She's the editor at The Times who recently got the ax. The how was unceremonious. The why was a little less clear. Either because she was a woman, didn't play well with others, or a little of both. 

In a commencement speech at Wake Forest University today (read more about that here), she said of her situation that she was "scared but also a little excited."  What a great feeling and one I've personally felt lots of times. It's called "bittersweet." You're sad something's ending because with it, two other companions go, too -- Comfort and Known. 

Then you pick up a new traveling buddy -- a drifter named Change. When Change enters the picture, it can be a mixed grab bag. Sometimes good, sometimes unexpected, sometimes not great. What I've found with Change, though, is to adapt the old adage "never let 'em see you sweat." Change is like a cat. He knows when you're averse to him and comes and rubs against your leg and sits in your lap. He can sniff out fear. Change gives you the chance to show the world and yourself exactly what you're made of.

And if you welcome Change, often you get the chance to meet some of his cousins including Opportunity, Experience, and Better.

"...one opportunity leads directly to another, just as risk leads to more risk, life to more life, and death to more death."

                                                                --Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Shower the People...With Love

"Some days you're the pigeon and some days you're the statue."

                                                                               --Unknown


Had enough time to process the meaning behind that one? You're smart, so I know you have your arms around it. I was getting on the elevator at work this morning as someone else was getting off. A fellow passenger yelled out a benediction, and his response was, "well, some days you're the statue and others you're the pigeon."

As the doors closed and we resumed our ascent, she mused to me, "Ha! I have no idea what that means. Hmm."

I, not fully awake, not a small talker, and my mind racing with both the day's and the weekend's activities, mumbled, "hmm? Yep." Then I threw in a smile so she wouldn't think I was a toot.

"Oh...I bet it's a riddle," she continued.

Oh, boy. Am I going to have to explain this? How long is this elevator ride? "I think it means 'some days go better than others," I suggested.

"Oh. Oh! Ha! I get it now. Yep. OK. Thank you. Well, aren't you smart?"

Ding! A blessed sound that meant the two of us were about to be separated for the day. Want to read some of the best pigeon/statue stories of all time?

Read about Caesar and Brutus.

  

Or Judas and Jesus.   

Or Zuckerberg and Saverin.

Be careful out there. I wish there weren't pigeons or statues. My wish for you...a fountain kind of day. May the worst thing done to you is someone throws money at you. And the worst thing you do...make people need to tinkle as they pass by.

He Knows What He's Doing

Me: God, can I ask You a question?

God: Sure.

Me: Promise You won't get mad?

God: I promise.

Me: Why did You let so much stuff happen to me today?

God: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I woke up late.

God: Yes.

Me: My car took forever to start.

God: Okay.

Me: At lunch, they made my sandwich wrong and I had to wait.

God: Hmm.

Me: On the way home, my phone went DEAD, just as I picked up a call.

God: All right.

Me: And to top it all off, when I got home ~I just wanted to soak my feet in my new foot massager and relax. BUT it wouldn't work!!! Nothing went right today! Why did You do that?

God: Let me see, the death angel was at your bed this morning and I had to send one of My Angels to battle him for your life. I let you sleep through that.

Me (humbled): Oh.

GOD: I didn't let your car start because there was a drunk driver on your route that would have hit you if you were on the road.

Me: (ashamed)

God: The first person who made your sandwich today was sick and I didn't want you to catch what they have. I knew you couldn't afford to miss work.

Me (embarrassed):Okay

God: Your phone went dead because the person that was calling was going to give false witness about what you said on that call, I didn't even let you talk to them so you would be covered.

Me (softly): I see, God

God: Oh and that foot massager, it had a shortage that was going to throw out all of the power in your house tonight. I didn't think you wanted to be in the dark.

Me: I'm sorry, God

God: Don't be sorry. Just learn to trust Me.... in ALL things...the good AND the bad.

Me: I will trust You.

God: And don't doubt that My plan for your day is always better than your plan.

Me: I won't God. And let me just tell you, God, thank You for everything today.

God: You're welcome, child. It was just another day being your God and I love looking after my children...

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all your ways and He will make your paths straight.

                                                                                                                                                                         Proverbs 3:5-6

What to Do

A co-worker, with whom I’ve participated in multiple discussions about not knowing what we want to do when we grow up, where the Lord wants us and how He wants to use us, and what our purpose is in life, showed me this the other day:

I admired the artistry (click here to read more about thataspect), but I had to laugh, internally so as to not be seen as unappreciative or callous. A list of activities that I personally choose instead of real work began to float through my head:

Nap

Surf FaceBook

Surf some of my favorite online shopping sites, if only just “screen shopping” (that’s the high-tech version of window shopping, right?)

Watch TV

Now, we all know you can’t get paid for doing these, right? So then I dug more deeply and thought, “OK, prove your parents, teachers, and a couple of bosses wrong and don’t be such a smartalec.”

I came up with these:

I like to read. OK, people make money reading manuscripts and editing, something I actually do enjoy, have done, and am good at, is an actual job. I’ll keep this one.

I like to vacuum and I actually like to clean all kinds of things. I have a feeling, however, that there’s a difference in cleaning your own stuff and that of strangers. Moving on.

I like to listen to music. But that, inevitably leads to another activity, namely a nap, so, no, I don’t see me becoming a music executive.

So, the task of finding out who I am and who I am supposed to be continues. If you have figured this out for yourself, I’d sure love tohear about it. It’s one of those things I always felt alone in until I started poking around, and talking to people, and learned that I have more company that I ever knew.

Answering the Tough Questions

Take marriage. My child asked me out of the blue last night "why do people get divorced?" A list of reasons began rolling through my mind:  adultery, differences of opinion, incompatibility, they fell out of love, they were never in love to start with, bad case of "greener grass" syndrome. 

But what I answered, and what I really believe, is this:  "I don't know why some people get divorced. There are a few couples who just shouldn't have gotten married in the first place. That's why it's important to make extra sure you're marrying the person God has chosen for you and don't rush into what's one of the biggest decisions of your life before really considering 'can I share my life with this person...forever?'"

Then I went on to explain that marriage is hard work. It's like a plant. If you water it and talk to it and sometimes push those little vitamin sticks down in the soil, then chances are it will thrive. If you ignore it and are lazy and don't care for it, it won't. Sometimes it needs a bigger pot. Sometimes it needs a different vantage point -- some shade, or some sun, or maybe a new window.

I don't judge someone who is divorced. First of all, who am I to judge? Secondly, until I've walked a mile (or 20) in your shoes, how would I know? Next, I can't imagine it's ever an easy decision, so I don't envy you or scorn you. Finally, regardless of the reasoning behind it, I know the heartache that has to be involved and the endless complexity, especially when children are involved.

Miracle of Life

Mir-a-cle -- 

1.  an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.
2.  such an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God.
3.  a wonder; marvel.

On the heels of Mother's Day, I wanted to write about a phrase I heard a couple of times over the weekend -- "ultimate sacrifice." It was used in relation to the act of giving birth and/or being a mother.  Now, trust me, there are sacrifices involved when you choose to raise up another human being. But there are sacrifices involved in life in anything worth doing. In my opinion, if something comes too easily, you probably didn't aim high enough.

When I think of ultimate sacrifice, though, I think of this:

          Motherhood has its own demands that can be seen as sacrifices. Some things on your body get bigger, some things get droopier, and some things get thinner, to name a few. For the next couple of decades, you don't go to the bathroom alone, or take a relaxing shower, or walk three feet without hearing your name called. You walk around like Terminator, scanning every thing and every person who comes into contact with your child, assessing their potential threat.  Neighbor kid:  OK.  Bottle of bleach:  Danger!  Cat:  We'll see.

But there are the rewards you hear of. Before having a child, when I heard that parenting was hard work but also rewarding, I had no idea what either of those meant. In my mind, hard work might be cleaning poopy diapers or slapping a band-aid on a skinned knee and a reward might be a cute drawing hung on the fridge. Now I now hard work includes teaching manners and morals, preparing my child for the world ahead, supplementing the education she receives in school, and being there for her when a band-aid won't fix the hurt. The rewards, in reality, are different, as well. They include the impromptu hugs, the unsolicited "I love you's" and watching your child exhibit good behavior even when you're not right there prodding. Yes, I have crayon masterpieces from one end of the house to the other, and I treasure them. But the real rewards sneak up on you when you're not expecting them.

This is an xray of an expectant mother. A friend of mine's dog is expecting puppies and this is her version of an ultrasound. Now, as with my own experience, I look and look and see nothing and finally, out of frustration and embarrassment, lie and say I do. To me, it's like seeing shapes in the clouds. I see a toaster and a bunny. She swears if you look closely, you can see little heads and spines and 24 little paws. I'll take her word for it.

Ultimate sacrifice? Maybe not. Miracle? Absolutely.

Foster Failure

One year ago, we became a family of thirteen. Our home - which included three humans, one canine, two felines, one hamster, and five fish -- made the unanimous decision to become a foster family...for dogs. We decided there was room in our home and our hearts to help a dog in need. We also decided that we had a spare 14 minutes in a given day and we'd offer that up to help a homeless pet.

After researching the topic, reading online material, talking to our vet, and speaking with friends who'd already made the plunge, we contacted the group Critter Calvary. Candace Giles runs this group and her work is awe-inspiring. She is a walking encyclopedia not just of dog breeds and available pets but of U.S. geography and the distance between a pet needing a home and a home needing a pet. She held our hand as we jumped into the process and it was she who introduced us to the term "foster failure."

Fos*ter - Fail*Ure:  To offer to host a homeless pet until a permanent home is found, but you fall in love with the pet before you can place him or her in a home, and wind up keeping the pet permanently. Thus, kind of taking you off the market to help any other pets.

"Oh no," we scoffed. "That won't be us. Although we have room in our home and hearts, we want to help a lot of pets and we won't get attached." (Famous last words.)

Candace said, "I've just the pet to start you with. Her name is Bailey. I think she's a Pug." (Well, two out of three statements being correct isn't terrible.) Bailey was in Memphis and needed a home and fast. If she couldn't be placed, her next destination was a "high kill shelter." I can't define that for you, but you can look it up or deduce probably. We sprung into action.

On May 9, 2013, Jason took off for Memphis. On the way home, he texted me:

Here she is.

I don't think she's a Pug.

When they got home, she ran and sat on the couch. It was an early indicator -- both that she felt she was home and that she's an awesome couch potato. I urged the family to love on her but to not fall in love with her. I told myself this, too. It didn't work. She's just a great dog. She's smart and curious and thrives on love and positive attention. I don't know what happened exactly in her days before us, but it wasn't all good, and I just don't understand that. Neither from a human perspective nor from a "what did she do to deserve bad treatment" way. You can lower your voice just one octave and say her name and she cowers and starts to shake. We realized we couldn't treat her like the rest of our family. She needed special care to learn that not all humans are bad and that she didn't have to continue scratching out an existence.

She slipped into our hearts like she slipped onto that couch. If we were playing outside, she was right there with us. If we were having family movie night, she asked "what are we watching?" (and displayed a deep love for popcorn even though we told her dogs aren't supposed to eat it.)

We knew we wanted to keep her but felt so guilty. Here we were, trying to do something good and we flubbed it up. I like to think giving this one dog a warm, loving, forever home is a good thing. I wished we could have helped more pets, but as for this one, I don't think anyone could love her more than we do.

Now, before you haul off to adopt, let me tell you it wasn't all easy and rainbows and unicorns. For instance, although we readily accepted her, the other pets didn't exactly roll out the welcome mat. We didn't see the cats for weeks. And, we had to learn the hard way that two dogs, especially an established one and a new one (and both of the same gender!) shouldn't share a food bowl:

So, we got smarter. And we signed Bailey up for some private, one-on-one classes with a great woman, Laura Dickens, at PetSmart.

Now, one year later, we don't remember her not being part of this family. And hopefully she doesn't either.

I love going camping. Chasing squirrels and sometimes those humans drop hot dogs. Does it get any better?

I am fiercely loyal to and protective of the shortest human in the house. Even when she does this to me.

And I still like couches. And this one and I have learned to co-exist. Life is good.

Walk Like a Man

Let me preface everything else I say here with this statement:  I love boys. Always have. They smell like soap (on good days), and they kill bugs, and give great hugs, and move heavy stuff, and they're exponentially more rational and quieter than their female counterparts. But, they do a few things that annoy the snot out of me and this is what brings me to this post.


Annoying Boy Characteristics

Clipping nails in public

You know that distinctive, high-pitched "clink...clink" sound. How about I do some of my personal grooming at my desk? Bet I could get you to put those clippers down in five seconds flat.

Not holding doors for women

I was at school the other day and was saddened as I walked up the steps into the building. A couple of boys (age:  approximately 10) ran around me, pulled the door, ran in, and then the door slammed shut just as I got to it. I've never been a big fan of the feminist movement. I think we had a pretty good thing going. But regardless of where you fall on the issue, you have to admit this is just common courtesy. If you're a boy, never for one minute think you're going to insult a woman by holding the door for her. And mamas of boys, thank you in advance for raising the next generation to be chivalrous. 

Walking too closely behind a woman

I've said it before. It's a peeve. I like my space from all sides and at all times. But it flat out creeps me out when I'm alone (especially on a sidewalk or in a parking garage) and a man is walking behind me, at the same pace or faster. Back off.

Doing the sniff/snort/sinus cavity clearing thing in public

They do it in meetings. They do it walking down the hall. They do it in restaurants and theatres! It's become second nature and I'm guessing they don't even know they're doing it. If your husband does this, point it out to him so he's aware. This is one of the many invaluable services I provide to my guy. 

You're welcome.

Don't just pee in, but on, behind, around, and even sometimes under (!) toilet

Some days, I fantasize about having a urinal in my home. There are no small dreams. Just small dreamers.

Shake a woman's hand limply

When a man shakes my hand and it's not a firm shake, I think one of two things:

1. You're not a good shaker, which immediately draws connotations of lack of confidence, weak character, and other undesirable traits.

2. Or, I wonder, have you adjusted the intensity of your shake because I'm a lady? Weaker shake for the weaker sex? Well, that's just offensive. Now, I don't want you hurting my shoulder with your shake, but go on and grab it and give it a good 1-2 motion.

Editor's Note:  To be fair, stay tuned for a post soon about annoying things we ladies do. You know what I'm talking about.

Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.
                                                                                                                Proverbs 22:6