Aloha!
It has been a while, but the time has come for me to get back to writing. To begin, I will start with A Blog Creation (see what I did there ;) ). What's in store? Resolutions.
It's almost the end of the January. For those of you who made resolutions, how are they going? Have you stuck with them? Have you thrown them to the curbside along with the Lindor truffle wrappers like the ones currently in my garbage can? (They're just so good... ;) ) Are you starting (or restarting) next week? Next month? (Coincidently, next week IS next month...just saying ;) )
Many of us tend to have lofty and multiple resolutions all the time. Not just at the beginning of the year. And that's the tricky part: the goals are sometimes just too big, too many. Not that they aren't valuable or viable, but sometimes, oftentimes, we just can't sustain all the changes we want to make because we are trying to do too much.
This is something that has been coming up a lot recently, in my life. I've had to do a lot of refocusing, of shifting priorities and goals: lessening them or putting them on the backburner. There has been quite a bit of change in the last couple years for our family (hello, Little Miss!), most of which has been joyous and wonderful. But it's also made things challenging, tricky, time-consuming. We've adjusted--some things removed, others just temporarily put on hiatus, still others lessened.
The last couple years, I haven't done any New Year Resolutions as I mostly have just been in survival mode since the birth of our daughter. But now that she's a full-blown toddler, I feel like I can spare some time to work on myself again. That may seem very contradictory, I know. Why would you choose NOW? Now? Everyone knows toddlers go a mile a minute both physically and emotionally. But in reality, it's the BEST time. Because Little Miss has given me a gift: she's shown me that I can make small changes that have a BIG effect.
In years' past, when I've felt so inclined, I have written resolutions down, sealed them in an envelope, and had my husband open it at the end of the year to assess how well I did on my goals. It made me feel more accountable, and even if I didn't meet my resolutions completely, I still found myself attempting them more consistently.
I'm not doing that this year.
Instead, I'm going to choose something small each week (or every other week or every third week, depending on the space and time in my life this year) and I'm going to write about it here. Because that's one of my BIG goals. Not this blog, but writing in general. So instead of trying to jump into a huge writing project (or rewriting, which is really the project that's on the to-do list), I'm starting with something more accessible to the time-frame I have right now. Plus, in theory, writing it on here will keep me more accountable for all my goals, big and small.
I feel like this month has already gone fairly well. More family time is one of our combined goals this year. And we got that immediately out of the starting gate: a trip to Hawaii with my husband and daughter for my 30th birthday. Yes, that was BIG, but the time we spent together for that week reminded us that it's the small, everyday gestures and nuances that make this our life and make our life what we want it to be: watching our daughter have so much enjoyment in walks, playtime (at the beach), eating dinner together, reading books near each other.
When we came home, we continued family time: we made sure to sit down and eat dinner as a family every night that we could. Last week we managed to do that at least four times, maybe five. And this week, it'll probably only be two or three. BUT, those 30-45 minutes are so rewarding. No phones. Only the three of us (plus the hovering furry one looking eagerly for high chair scraps). And somehow, those precious minutes before and after dinner are spent more fulfilled. We aren't playing, "What do you want to eat?" as much because we know we have to have something figured out before the dinner hour arrives. And afterwards, it's just time to be a family.
I know that my husband and I will keep striving to continue this relatively small thing: dinner together as a family. It's reaping so many rewards already, and it's only been one week (officially) for the dinner-sized-portion of this goal ;)
So far, the theme is fundamentals. Last week: food. This week: sleep. Next week: water. And so, onto the next blog post!
Cheers to happy, healthy, and fulfilled!
Monday, January 25, 2016
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Halloween: a real treat for some, tricky for others
I should have been Scrooge for Halloween this year. As an adult, that's how I feel about the "holiday". I wasn't always like that. I used to love Halloween as a kid (I mean, really, what average American kid doesn't like free candy and dressing up as whatever you want?)
When I was younger, I loved going out dressed as whatever great idea I came up with that year. One year I was a hippie, another an old man, another a princess (multiple years), a pirate, etc. For the bulk of my good trick-or-treating years, we lived in Illinois in the perfect neighborhood. Just the right amount of houses to get a full stash and friendly-enough neighbors that it never seemed awkward knocking on doors.
And we knew our neighborhood, us kids. There was the house straight out our front door down almost to the main road on the right that gave out little ice creams cups (the guy worked for the Schwan company). You had to time your trick-or-treating just right there: not too early that your ice cream melted if you didn't want to eat it right away, but not too late or else they'd be out. There was the big (somewhat scary) brown house all the way down one side of the U-shaped neighborhood (the one that ended at the cul-de-sac with the pond where we used to go ice skating). That house handed out full-sized popcorn balls. Yes! They were delicious. A couple sporadic houses would give the GIANT candy bars out each year, but you had to be really on your game to get to those houses in time.
Everybody seemed pretty good about decorations too. Though the Skitinos next door always had the best scare-the-pants-off-of-you walkway up to their main door. I distinctly remember a skeleton that sat in a chair near the front that jumped at you as you walked up. Consequently, in my more formative years, my older siblings had to retrieve my candy from their house as I refused to go up (even when my siblings *tried* to convince me that it'd be okay...I didn't trust my siblings much then. ;) )
As the years passed and we moved to Washington, I started falling out of love with the oh-so-favorite holiday of kids. It started with moving to a neighborhood that was separated by acres of land, down a dark and windy gravel road. Not so much trick-or-treating as real-life scare-the-crap-out-of-you bears or cougars or wild crazy mountain men (imagination of a twelve-year-old) potentially lurked around any corner. One year I went with a couple friends whose Mom drove us all down to the town to trick-or-treat in the neighborhoods there. It just wasn't the same. It wasn't my neighborhood. None of them were my neighbors. And no one had little ice cream cups or giant popcorn balls. Just lots of dum-dums and "fun" size candy bars (seriously, FUN? Since when is little candy fun? Since never.) And the only thing I actually remember from that Halloween is that somehow I ended up sitting on chewing gum and it stuck to my costume and I couldn't get it off.
After that, I got too old to trick-or-treat and I wasn't one to get invited to parties (not that I would have gone anyway.) And forget college years: I had absolutely NO desire to dress up as a slutty bunny/maid/policewoman/whatever skanky outfits were deemed "cool" to go to any party that involved alcohol because that just seemed a colossal waste of time, energy, money, and brain cells. Instead, my roommate and I would put a little paper pumpkin cut-out on our door (the RAs handed them out each year) to signify that all the little trick-or-treaters in the local neighborhood could knock on our door to get some candy. (Not that we gave out very good candy...we were broke college students after all. In fact, I don't even remember what we gave out. Probably dum-dums.) The ladybugs and lions and doggies were cute (most were under the age of 7). And when we weren't handing out candy, we were doing homework.
Fast forward to adult life and I realized that Halloween is kind of lame. Now I get to go out and buy candy for strangers who knock on my door in the evening and interrupt my life. Sure, I could turn off the lights so nobody knocked (not that it would stop some), but there's that tiny kid-voice in me that says, "Oh c'mon! Be a sport!" But really, the only trick-or-treaters I want to see are my neighbor kids and my niece and nephew (my niece and nephew and their parents showed up as an entire pirate family which was pretty awesome!). But other than those few kids I know, I don't want to hand out candy to anybody. How did I turn into such a Grinch? (Another costume I should have donned...)
I am glad that I live in a neighborhood with nine houses, surrounded by other neighbors that are just far enough away that most people don't want to walk up a dark(ish) road. Plus, half our neighbors' lights were out this year. And, to be fair, those few die-hards who did venture up (or down) into our neighborhood, were polite and all costumed. But it took a lot to muster the energy to open the door and smile. *Sigh*
I hope that the spirit of dressing up and make-believe comes back to me because, candy-stashing aside, I used to love dressing up. My best childhood friend and I would play dress up for HOURS on end. Now, I just have the Eeyore, "Oh Bother" attitude (another costume idea!). Perhaps when I have a family of my own and get to take them trick-or-treating I will be re-inspired. Until then, I will just have to take pleasure in seeing those few kids I really want to open my door for and be glad that my neighborhood isn't quite as expansive as the one in Illinois.
Bah Humbug.
When I was younger, I loved going out dressed as whatever great idea I came up with that year. One year I was a hippie, another an old man, another a princess (multiple years), a pirate, etc. For the bulk of my good trick-or-treating years, we lived in Illinois in the perfect neighborhood. Just the right amount of houses to get a full stash and friendly-enough neighbors that it never seemed awkward knocking on doors.
And we knew our neighborhood, us kids. There was the house straight out our front door down almost to the main road on the right that gave out little ice creams cups (the guy worked for the Schwan company). You had to time your trick-or-treating just right there: not too early that your ice cream melted if you didn't want to eat it right away, but not too late or else they'd be out. There was the big (somewhat scary) brown house all the way down one side of the U-shaped neighborhood (the one that ended at the cul-de-sac with the pond where we used to go ice skating). That house handed out full-sized popcorn balls. Yes! They were delicious. A couple sporadic houses would give the GIANT candy bars out each year, but you had to be really on your game to get to those houses in time.
Everybody seemed pretty good about decorations too. Though the Skitinos next door always had the best scare-the-pants-off-of-you walkway up to their main door. I distinctly remember a skeleton that sat in a chair near the front that jumped at you as you walked up. Consequently, in my more formative years, my older siblings had to retrieve my candy from their house as I refused to go up (even when my siblings *tried* to convince me that it'd be okay...I didn't trust my siblings much then. ;) )
As the years passed and we moved to Washington, I started falling out of love with the oh-so-favorite holiday of kids. It started with moving to a neighborhood that was separated by acres of land, down a dark and windy gravel road. Not so much trick-or-treating as real-life scare-the-crap-out-of-you bears or cougars or wild crazy mountain men (imagination of a twelve-year-old) potentially lurked around any corner. One year I went with a couple friends whose Mom drove us all down to the town to trick-or-treat in the neighborhoods there. It just wasn't the same. It wasn't my neighborhood. None of them were my neighbors. And no one had little ice cream cups or giant popcorn balls. Just lots of dum-dums and "fun" size candy bars (seriously, FUN? Since when is little candy fun? Since never.) And the only thing I actually remember from that Halloween is that somehow I ended up sitting on chewing gum and it stuck to my costume and I couldn't get it off.
After that, I got too old to trick-or-treat and I wasn't one to get invited to parties (not that I would have gone anyway.) And forget college years: I had absolutely NO desire to dress up as a slutty bunny/maid/policewoman/whatever skanky outfits were deemed "cool" to go to any party that involved alcohol because that just seemed a colossal waste of time, energy, money, and brain cells. Instead, my roommate and I would put a little paper pumpkin cut-out on our door (the RAs handed them out each year) to signify that all the little trick-or-treaters in the local neighborhood could knock on our door to get some candy. (Not that we gave out very good candy...we were broke college students after all. In fact, I don't even remember what we gave out. Probably dum-dums.) The ladybugs and lions and doggies were cute (most were under the age of 7). And when we weren't handing out candy, we were doing homework.
Fast forward to adult life and I realized that Halloween is kind of lame. Now I get to go out and buy candy for strangers who knock on my door in the evening and interrupt my life. Sure, I could turn off the lights so nobody knocked (not that it would stop some), but there's that tiny kid-voice in me that says, "Oh c'mon! Be a sport!" But really, the only trick-or-treaters I want to see are my neighbor kids and my niece and nephew (my niece and nephew and their parents showed up as an entire pirate family which was pretty awesome!). But other than those few kids I know, I don't want to hand out candy to anybody. How did I turn into such a Grinch? (Another costume I should have donned...)
I am glad that I live in a neighborhood with nine houses, surrounded by other neighbors that are just far enough away that most people don't want to walk up a dark(ish) road. Plus, half our neighbors' lights were out this year. And, to be fair, those few die-hards who did venture up (or down) into our neighborhood, were polite and all costumed. But it took a lot to muster the energy to open the door and smile. *Sigh*
I hope that the spirit of dressing up and make-believe comes back to me because, candy-stashing aside, I used to love dressing up. My best childhood friend and I would play dress up for HOURS on end. Now, I just have the Eeyore, "Oh Bother" attitude (another costume idea!). Perhaps when I have a family of my own and get to take them trick-or-treating I will be re-inspired. Until then, I will just have to take pleasure in seeing those few kids I really want to open my door for and be glad that my neighborhood isn't quite as expansive as the one in Illinois.
Bah Humbug.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
A Week in Review: NaNoWriMo and/or Nutcracker
I decided a while ago not to do NaNoWriMo this year, until last night when I started dreaming up characters and a story. As I fell asleep, I thought to myself, "I can definitely do this!"
When I woke up, I realized I am a bit crazy.
My earlier decision to abstain from this year's NaNo will remain in effect. Why? Mostly due to the fact that I get the opportunity to play the principal clarinet part in The Nutcracker this year, something that I have always wanted to do. And, since I do not want to be one of those people who show up unprepared (it baffles me how even after 20+ years of playing the exact same thing people are unprepared...it's called P-R-A-C-T-I-C-E, people!), I intend to spend all the time I would be writing, practicing.
This was a hard decision as the writer in me is throwing an outright temper tantrum, which, to be fair, is fair. I keep putting my writing aside in order to pursue these musical avenues, but sometimes decisions need to be made. If I find myself with extra time this November, I will certainly try to write down the story about the characters that made an appearance last night (and whom I am sure will start pestering me incessantly). But this November is dedicated to practicing both for The Nutcracker as well as the Winds of the Sound quintet recital (which you should all come to on November 23rd; it'll be great music!)
Meanwhile, to all those NaNoers out there: Best of luck to you all!
P.S. And, if I wasn't already convinced that I need to expend my energy into practicing this November, I got a sign this morning as well: Northwestern University has released archived audios of Robert Marcellus masterclasses! *Nerd Alert* Robert Marcellus is a big name in the clarinetting world of yore (and continues to influence the clarinet world, though he passed away in 1996). A fantastic player, he also taught brilliantly and intellectually to both students and fellow clarinet teachers. There's rumored to be 175 hours of pure listening pleasure in these audio files as he talks about technique and repertoire, critiques pieces and he provides constructive criticism to those performing the pieces in his masterclasses. I've already gleaned pearls of wisdom from the bits and snatches I aurally flipped through today. Suh-weet!
When I woke up, I realized I am a bit crazy.
My earlier decision to abstain from this year's NaNo will remain in effect. Why? Mostly due to the fact that I get the opportunity to play the principal clarinet part in The Nutcracker this year, something that I have always wanted to do. And, since I do not want to be one of those people who show up unprepared (it baffles me how even after 20+ years of playing the exact same thing people are unprepared...it's called P-R-A-C-T-I-C-E, people!), I intend to spend all the time I would be writing, practicing.
This was a hard decision as the writer in me is throwing an outright temper tantrum, which, to be fair, is fair. I keep putting my writing aside in order to pursue these musical avenues, but sometimes decisions need to be made. If I find myself with extra time this November, I will certainly try to write down the story about the characters that made an appearance last night (and whom I am sure will start pestering me incessantly). But this November is dedicated to practicing both for The Nutcracker as well as the Winds of the Sound quintet recital (which you should all come to on November 23rd; it'll be great music!)
Meanwhile, to all those NaNoers out there: Best of luck to you all!
P.S. And, if I wasn't already convinced that I need to expend my energy into practicing this November, I got a sign this morning as well: Northwestern University has released archived audios of Robert Marcellus masterclasses! *Nerd Alert* Robert Marcellus is a big name in the clarinetting world of yore (and continues to influence the clarinet world, though he passed away in 1996). A fantastic player, he also taught brilliantly and intellectually to both students and fellow clarinet teachers. There's rumored to be 175 hours of pure listening pleasure in these audio files as he talks about technique and repertoire, critiques pieces and he provides constructive criticism to those performing the pieces in his masterclasses. I've already gleaned pearls of wisdom from the bits and snatches I aurally flipped through today. Suh-weet!
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
A Week in Review: A blow to the knees
I feel like I am 80 years old. I cringe thinking about getting up in the morning because my knees are so stiff and painful. The thought of going downstairs makes me want to crawl back in bed. Each morning I think I'll feel better, and each morning it still hurts. A lot. It's been a month and a half now.
It happened after we went backpacking, but I can't figure out how to fix myself because I'm not altogether sure what's going on. It's not like we hadn't gone backpacking before. I did have new hiking boots, but it wasn't my first time using them. My only thought is this:
I had been wearing my Keens and my super comfortable yoga-mat flip flops almost nonstop this entire summer. Then, when I went backpacking, I actually wore my orthotics (*pats self on back*) and when we hiked down, I also put my knee brace on (*another pat on the back*). I thought I was doing the right thing: good posture and good support. But here's what I actually think happened: My feet/knees/hips rebelled because they were over-corrected after an entire summer of being lazy. (That and my orthotics are about a thousand years old, a.k.a. I got them in high school...and as much as I hate to admit it, probably are doing me more harm than good.)
Ever since that hike down, I haven't been able to bend my knees. I can't kneel. It takes me a long time to just get up and walk to the bathroom or the kitchen.
I used to be able to do this:
Now it hurts to put on socks.
Why, you may ask, did I not go to a doctor a month ago? Well, I don't believe in doctors much. Or, perhaps I should say I've just been extremely disappointed in them. When I sprained my ankle a few years ago, I put off going in...knowing that they'd just tell me that I needed to rest it and take drugs, etc. It finally got so bad that I went to the urgent care (bad idea). They told me to rest it and take ibuprofen. (Shocker...) That bill ended up being $1000 (the doctor wasn't authorized to read the x-rays so they had to call in a radiologist that I had to pay, the crutches and ankle brace went through different companies which each billed us separately, so on and so forth. Good thing the husband sorted most of that out.) Speaking of him, let's talk about the time he went into physical therapy for two months for an IT band issue...which the physical therapists actually made worse. And yet we still had to pay a copay twice a week for two months. Or how about the time I tweaked my wrist and it hurt every time I played my instrument? Yep, you guessed it. Multiple doctors appointments, MRIs, x-rays, poking, prodding, and copays, just to be told they "weren't really sure..." which resulted in the option of steroid shots or nothing. I took nothing. What a colossal waste of time, energy, and money.
Now, this isn't a knock against doctors. They definitely have merit and worth in society. Nor is it a tirade against insurance.
But how do you decide when to go into a doctor and why? I feel like if you can rest and recuperate without going into a doctor, then do it. You'll save yourself time and money, and you'll save others time and money.
So what about prolonged injuries like what I now am battling? How do you decide when and where and who to see? Do you go see the doctors just to play a guessing game and be prescribed drugs that you aren't willing to take? Do you try to exercise it out? (Movement, in this case, does seem to be the only thing that sort of helps alleviate pain.) I have rested, iced, heated, compressed, and elevated. And yet nothing. I suppose each day is mildly better, but the slope of improvement is so gradual that I am worried that nothing has changed.
I don't want to go to the doctor just to have them tell me I need to RICE some more. Nor do I want to go and be put through a battery of tests that end up being inconclusive. I would consider physical therapy, but ever since my husband's experience, I am afraid that it'll just be a waste of money AND make me worse.
I guess it's time to go back to RICE and start strength-exercising the muscles in the lower half of my body.
Meanwhile, I have made an appointment with a podiatrist to get new orthotics.
It happened after we went backpacking, but I can't figure out how to fix myself because I'm not altogether sure what's going on. It's not like we hadn't gone backpacking before. I did have new hiking boots, but it wasn't my first time using them. My only thought is this:
I had been wearing my Keens and my super comfortable yoga-mat flip flops almost nonstop this entire summer. Then, when I went backpacking, I actually wore my orthotics (*pats self on back*) and when we hiked down, I also put my knee brace on (*another pat on the back*). I thought I was doing the right thing: good posture and good support. But here's what I actually think happened: My feet/knees/hips rebelled because they were over-corrected after an entire summer of being lazy. (That and my orthotics are about a thousand years old, a.k.a. I got them in high school...and as much as I hate to admit it, probably are doing me more harm than good.)
Ever since that hike down, I haven't been able to bend my knees. I can't kneel. It takes me a long time to just get up and walk to the bathroom or the kitchen.
I used to be able to do this:
Why, you may ask, did I not go to a doctor a month ago? Well, I don't believe in doctors much. Or, perhaps I should say I've just been extremely disappointed in them. When I sprained my ankle a few years ago, I put off going in...knowing that they'd just tell me that I needed to rest it and take drugs, etc. It finally got so bad that I went to the urgent care (bad idea). They told me to rest it and take ibuprofen. (Shocker...) That bill ended up being $1000 (the doctor wasn't authorized to read the x-rays so they had to call in a radiologist that I had to pay, the crutches and ankle brace went through different companies which each billed us separately, so on and so forth. Good thing the husband sorted most of that out.) Speaking of him, let's talk about the time he went into physical therapy for two months for an IT band issue...which the physical therapists actually made worse. And yet we still had to pay a copay twice a week for two months. Or how about the time I tweaked my wrist and it hurt every time I played my instrument? Yep, you guessed it. Multiple doctors appointments, MRIs, x-rays, poking, prodding, and copays, just to be told they "weren't really sure..." which resulted in the option of steroid shots or nothing. I took nothing. What a colossal waste of time, energy, and money.
Now, this isn't a knock against doctors. They definitely have merit and worth in society. Nor is it a tirade against insurance.
But how do you decide when to go into a doctor and why? I feel like if you can rest and recuperate without going into a doctor, then do it. You'll save yourself time and money, and you'll save others time and money.
So what about prolonged injuries like what I now am battling? How do you decide when and where and who to see? Do you go see the doctors just to play a guessing game and be prescribed drugs that you aren't willing to take? Do you try to exercise it out? (Movement, in this case, does seem to be the only thing that sort of helps alleviate pain.) I have rested, iced, heated, compressed, and elevated. And yet nothing. I suppose each day is mildly better, but the slope of improvement is so gradual that I am worried that nothing has changed.
I don't want to go to the doctor just to have them tell me I need to RICE some more. Nor do I want to go and be put through a battery of tests that end up being inconclusive. I would consider physical therapy, but ever since my husband's experience, I am afraid that it'll just be a waste of money AND make me worse.
I guess it's time to go back to RICE and start strength-exercising the muscles in the lower half of my body.
Meanwhile, I have made an appointment with a podiatrist to get new orthotics.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
A Week in Review: The long and the short of it (tee hee)
I am not intentionally pushing the posting dates back each week; somehow life just gets busy.
I almost didn't post this week; first because I forgot on Sunday (big day with quintet rehearsal and lessons and youth symphony and lessons and finally getting home to eat dinner). Then, as Monday slipped by, I thought, "Should I bother this week? It's already Tuesday..."
But NO! I said I would do this, so barring any actual forgettage (English major is allowed to make up words), I will persevere.
A short snippet for the week (pun intended):
My hair cut rocks. (Pun intended again.)
The bass players in the symphony in which I play are located across the entire room from me, stage left. Due to this location, rarely, if ever, do we interact. A new bass player joined us last season, an older, slender black man from Chicago, who wears a newsboy cap with some grays underneath. I don't believe we've even nodded a "Hello" to each other (due, again, merely to location).
The first rehearsal after my hair cut, I walked into rehearsal and sat down. Incredibly early, I was one of only a few people in the room. The bass player walked in and as he was about to put bow to strings, said (from across the room), "You got your hair cut!"
Catching me completely off guard, I at least responded with a, "Yes, I did!"
He made my day. The only other person in my section doesn't notice I chopped off multiple inches of hair, but a pleasant gentleman from across the room does—and comments on it! :)
Just goes to show you that you never know who's watching. And not in the creepy, stalker way, but in the "being aware of your surroundings" kind of way.
Remember, people like to be noticed and acknowledged. Even something that may seem trivial to you could make a difference in somebody's day.
I almost didn't post this week; first because I forgot on Sunday (big day with quintet rehearsal and lessons and youth symphony and lessons and finally getting home to eat dinner). Then, as Monday slipped by, I thought, "Should I bother this week? It's already Tuesday..."
But NO! I said I would do this, so barring any actual forgettage (English major is allowed to make up words), I will persevere.
A short snippet for the week (pun intended):
My hair cut rocks. (Pun intended again.)
The bass players in the symphony in which I play are located across the entire room from me, stage left. Due to this location, rarely, if ever, do we interact. A new bass player joined us last season, an older, slender black man from Chicago, who wears a newsboy cap with some grays underneath. I don't believe we've even nodded a "Hello" to each other (due, again, merely to location).
The first rehearsal after my hair cut, I walked into rehearsal and sat down. Incredibly early, I was one of only a few people in the room. The bass player walked in and as he was about to put bow to strings, said (from across the room), "You got your hair cut!"
Catching me completely off guard, I at least responded with a, "Yes, I did!"
He made my day. The only other person in my section doesn't notice I chopped off multiple inches of hair, but a pleasant gentleman from across the room does—and comments on it! :)
Just goes to show you that you never know who's watching. And not in the creepy, stalker way, but in the "being aware of your surroundings" kind of way.
Remember, people like to be noticed and acknowledged. Even something that may seem trivial to you could make a difference in somebody's day.
Monday, October 7, 2013
A Week in Review: Gov. shutdowns, puppy-dog tooth extractions, eBay, and hair cuts
When people ask me, "How was your week? What did you do?" I generally stare at them for a moment, trying to remember what I actually did in the past week. If somebody asks me this week, I'll ask them to pull up a chair because it was a doozy of week!
* * *
Earlier in the week, the government shut down. For some, this just comes as a minor inconvenience; others don't even give it more than a passing, "That's unfortunate" or "No surprise" thought. But for many, especially in the area where we reside, it's a huge deal. Many people have been furloughed (no work, no pay). My husband gets to still go to work, but he doesn't get paid (until everything gets settled...and then theoretically we will be paid retroactively). That was how this entire week started for us. I count us one of the lucky ones, at the moment, as we still have a job (sort of) and we will get paid (eventually...we hope). But for all those who live pay-check to pay-check, my heart goes out to them.
My husband said that the day notices went out, he saw a man walking down the stairs, crumpling up a piece of paper with a look on his face that said it all: "How am I going to afford to live?"
The feeling is terrible. For those of you who have steady, paying jobs right now. Count your blessings and don't belly-ache about stupid things. Have some consideration for those millions affected who suddenly went from stability to uncertainty in a matter of hours. Cross your fingers that our government can put aside their petty differences and start working together.
I won't say anymore on the matter as it's something that is largely debated and could end up being an entire novel. Suffice it to say: I'm grateful that we have savings, that I work (even though I only pull in enough to pay half a mortgage), and am equally glad that we have great family and friends if we end up needing help.
* * *
As the week progressed, we found out that our puppy-dog had a cracked molar. :(
Good thing my husband has been good about brushing her teeth, as he noticed it. She went in for a vet appointment on Friday which confirmed the situation. The vet gave us two options: root canal (no bueno) or tooth extraction. On Saturday morning, my husband took her into the vet again for a tooth extraction surgery. Later that day, she came back to us, sounding like a tea kettle and completely out of it. Poor puppy :( Already in her life she's had two knee surgeries, so we have gone through much more major "after anesthesia" deals, but it still doesn't get any easier.
Ellie is no longer allowed to have any nylabones (sad day), but on the plus side she gets a steady diet of chicken and rice all week (soft food)! Lucky doggy! She is already sounding and looking a lot better. Though drooling a lot...hopefully that'll stop sooner rather than later ;)
Now of course Murphy's Law says that this'll happen as soon as the Gov. shutdown happens and we aren't getting paid, but that's why we have pet insurance (GET IT!!) and hopefully this will be covered! (Ironically, we also had to buy new tires for my car the day after the Gov. shutdown, but again, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches...and now all those who ride in my car are much safer!).
* * *
This is just touching the surface of the many strange and unusual things that occurred this week. There were a lot more frustrating moments, some learning moments, some very exciting moments, and a lot of good that really did happen this week along with the unfortunate circumstances.
Like, for instance: my first eBay experience!
Now and then I poke around eBay, usually hunting for nerdy clarinet paraphernalia. (There was that one time I bid on a clarinet using my husband's account.) But I never actually buy anything, in fact I didn't (up until this week) have an account at all.
This week, my life changed. I—became an eBayer.
What, you may ask, compelled me to actually make an account when not even a prior clarinet bidding convinced me to get my own?
Two words (try not to laugh): Polly Pocket.
Yes, that is right my friends, if you didn't think I was a nerd before, now you really know I am one!
Back story:
I used to play with Polly Pockets as a young child. Not the ones you see nowadays, but the legit inch-high dolls that came in the little shells. They were awesome. You could take them with you and entertain yourself for hours.
As I grew up, my two precious Polly Pocket sets were packed away along with my other dolls, stuffed animals, Beanie Babies, and all the other countless toys. In the attic they sat, for years. Then I moved into my own house and found myself poking through all my boxes as I moved all my stuff out of my parents' house. Strangely, my Polly Pockets were no where to be found! How could this be?!
I brushed it off for a for more years, mentioning it to my mom who also found it strange. For some reason, just this past week, I finally decided I'd had enough. It was time to accept that for some reason, two of my favorite toys were officially AWOL.
I began an intense online hunt, finding out more than I ever thought I'd know about the Polly Pocket world (and that there are some crazy enthusiasts out there). But, given the power of the internet, I found my two sets floating around on eBay.
Naturally, I stalked every option and finally went in for the kill. Never having actually eBayed on my own (I'm making up all sorts of words in this blog today), I watched the countdown eagerly for the first set, face plastered to the screen as the one hour mark turned into minutes...45 min...30...15...10...I am still the highest bidder!...8...5...3...30 secs and I WIN!!! Yes, I did a happy dance. I love winning. (Who doesn't?)
Thrilled with my first awesome encounter, I eagerly pushed forward into my next bid for my other set, this time being even more daring and finding not just the one original that I was missing...but the entire set! WOWSERS!
This one I couldn't watch actively, so I just had to cross my fingers that nobody outbid me. And nobody did. Because nobody messes with me and my Polly Pockets. WINNER AGAIN! Even more exciting though because I get not one, but FOUR! (They should arrive in the mail today or tomorrow.)
Perhaps one day my two sets will show up, but if they don't, now I have them again. I feel pretty darn good about my eBay experience! (Also, I think I may have lost the boy polly from the beach set in our family Oldsmobile when I was playing with them in the car...pretty sure he slipped down where the seatbelt comes out...so now if I do find them, I'll have all the pieces again!)
Laugh all you will, but everyone has something that they would love to see again. In fact, I told my in-laws we should have a vintage toy Christmas this year. :) Wouldn't you love to open just one gift and have it be something special from your past? I think it'd be pretty neat.
* * *
Meanwhile, the most exciting thing that was supposed to happen last week was getting my hair cut:
Neither are great pictures, but you get the point. I love my new hair cut. It's a bit more "Short 'n' Sassy" ;)
* * *
As I said, this only barely scratches what happened this week. I didn't even go into the Tea Festival, staking out the grand opening of REI in our area for free water bottles and gifts cards, my sister adopting her first cat, one of my best friends adopting her first dog, teaching a lesson that tested my patience (I wanted to pull my hair out by the end), or really any of the other myriad of subjects I could talk about.
But at least this time, when somebody asks me how my week went, I'll have something to say!
* * *
Earlier in the week, the government shut down. For some, this just comes as a minor inconvenience; others don't even give it more than a passing, "That's unfortunate" or "No surprise" thought. But for many, especially in the area where we reside, it's a huge deal. Many people have been furloughed (no work, no pay). My husband gets to still go to work, but he doesn't get paid (until everything gets settled...and then theoretically we will be paid retroactively). That was how this entire week started for us. I count us one of the lucky ones, at the moment, as we still have a job (sort of) and we will get paid (eventually...we hope). But for all those who live pay-check to pay-check, my heart goes out to them.
My husband said that the day notices went out, he saw a man walking down the stairs, crumpling up a piece of paper with a look on his face that said it all: "How am I going to afford to live?"
The feeling is terrible. For those of you who have steady, paying jobs right now. Count your blessings and don't belly-ache about stupid things. Have some consideration for those millions affected who suddenly went from stability to uncertainty in a matter of hours. Cross your fingers that our government can put aside their petty differences and start working together.
I won't say anymore on the matter as it's something that is largely debated and could end up being an entire novel. Suffice it to say: I'm grateful that we have savings, that I work (even though I only pull in enough to pay half a mortgage), and am equally glad that we have great family and friends if we end up needing help.
* * *
As the week progressed, we found out that our puppy-dog had a cracked molar. :(
Good thing my husband has been good about brushing her teeth, as he noticed it. She went in for a vet appointment on Friday which confirmed the situation. The vet gave us two options: root canal (no bueno) or tooth extraction. On Saturday morning, my husband took her into the vet again for a tooth extraction surgery. Later that day, she came back to us, sounding like a tea kettle and completely out of it. Poor puppy :( Already in her life she's had two knee surgeries, so we have gone through much more major "after anesthesia" deals, but it still doesn't get any easier.
Ellie is no longer allowed to have any nylabones (sad day), but on the plus side she gets a steady diet of chicken and rice all week (soft food)! Lucky doggy! She is already sounding and looking a lot better. Though drooling a lot...hopefully that'll stop sooner rather than later ;)
Now of course Murphy's Law says that this'll happen as soon as the Gov. shutdown happens and we aren't getting paid, but that's why we have pet insurance (GET IT!!) and hopefully this will be covered! (Ironically, we also had to buy new tires for my car the day after the Gov. shutdown, but again, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches...and now all those who ride in my car are much safer!).
* * *
This is just touching the surface of the many strange and unusual things that occurred this week. There were a lot more frustrating moments, some learning moments, some very exciting moments, and a lot of good that really did happen this week along with the unfortunate circumstances.
Like, for instance: my first eBay experience!
Now and then I poke around eBay, usually hunting for nerdy clarinet paraphernalia. (There was that one time I bid on a clarinet using my husband's account.) But I never actually buy anything, in fact I didn't (up until this week) have an account at all.
This week, my life changed. I—became an eBayer.
What, you may ask, compelled me to actually make an account when not even a prior clarinet bidding convinced me to get my own?
Two words (try not to laugh): Polly Pocket.
Yes, that is right my friends, if you didn't think I was a nerd before, now you really know I am one!
Back story:
I used to play with Polly Pockets as a young child. Not the ones you see nowadays, but the legit inch-high dolls that came in the little shells. They were awesome. You could take them with you and entertain yourself for hours.
As I grew up, my two precious Polly Pocket sets were packed away along with my other dolls, stuffed animals, Beanie Babies, and all the other countless toys. In the attic they sat, for years. Then I moved into my own house and found myself poking through all my boxes as I moved all my stuff out of my parents' house. Strangely, my Polly Pockets were no where to be found! How could this be?!
I brushed it off for a for more years, mentioning it to my mom who also found it strange. For some reason, just this past week, I finally decided I'd had enough. It was time to accept that for some reason, two of my favorite toys were officially AWOL.
I began an intense online hunt, finding out more than I ever thought I'd know about the Polly Pocket world (and that there are some crazy enthusiasts out there). But, given the power of the internet, I found my two sets floating around on eBay.
Naturally, I stalked every option and finally went in for the kill. Never having actually eBayed on my own (I'm making up all sorts of words in this blog today), I watched the countdown eagerly for the first set, face plastered to the screen as the one hour mark turned into minutes...45 min...30...15...10...I am still the highest bidder!...8...5...3...30 secs and I WIN!!! Yes, I did a happy dance. I love winning. (Who doesn't?)
 |
| Polly Pocket Beach House with two original dolls AND a bonus doll. Also in the original color that I had (other ones have dark purple scheme in the seating and beds, but this lighter color is the one I originally owned). |
 |
| Original Polly Pocket Jeweled Sea that I used to own. Comes with a little otter as well as the mermaid doll! |
 |
| The entire jewel Polly Pocket set! Wahoo! |
Perhaps one day my two sets will show up, but if they don't, now I have them again. I feel pretty darn good about my eBay experience! (Also, I think I may have lost the boy polly from the beach set in our family Oldsmobile when I was playing with them in the car...pretty sure he slipped down where the seatbelt comes out...so now if I do find them, I'll have all the pieces again!)
Laugh all you will, but everyone has something that they would love to see again. In fact, I told my in-laws we should have a vintage toy Christmas this year. :) Wouldn't you love to open just one gift and have it be something special from your past? I think it'd be pretty neat.
* * *
Meanwhile, the most exciting thing that was supposed to happen last week was getting my hair cut:
 |
| Before |
 |
| After |
* * *
As I said, this only barely scratches what happened this week. I didn't even go into the Tea Festival, staking out the grand opening of REI in our area for free water bottles and gifts cards, my sister adopting her first cat, one of my best friends adopting her first dog, teaching a lesson that tested my patience (I wanted to pull my hair out by the end), or really any of the other myriad of subjects I could talk about.
But at least this time, when somebody asks me how my week went, I'll have something to say!
Monday, September 30, 2013
A Week in Review: Etiquette and Common Courtesy
In the age of technology, there are some—nay, many—common courtesies and etiquette that have gone far out the window.
Let's start with the hard one: R.S.V.P.
Yes, it's French. If this were a Jeopardy question, how many people in each generation (on average) do you think would be able to actually SAY what that acronym means—without Googling it? (It's okay if you can't spell it. After all, those French like to add a lot of vowels unnecessarily.) I am going to speculate (with all my powers of intuition), that for each new generation, the likelihood of this gets smaller and smaller.
It stands for répondez, s'il vous plaît, which means RESPOND PLEASE. (I won't go into the semantics of how accurate my French translation is as it could actually mean "respond, if you please" which is NOT where I'm going with this entry so I'm sticking with what's in all caps.)
I have been taught that you respond. Period. (If I could capitalize the actual period instead of writing out the word, I would. Consider it capital.)
Understandably, we get busy with life. The invitation, whether paper or cyber, gets lost in the day-to-day. But anybody who has thrown any kind of extravaganza in the last few years from birthday parties to weddings (especially weddings), understands that when one doesn't RSVP, things get very tricky. The host is usually trying to pinpoint how much food and drink to make or purchase, how many party favors to acquire, seating arrangements, party activities, so on and so forth. If you don't RSVP, you leave the host with the unfortunate quandary of: "Do I call or do I just assume?" Neither is a great option. Personally, in the last few years, I've done my fair share of calling and Facebooking and e-mailing just to get people to respond.
To that I say: "Ugh!" Get with the program, people!
If somebody puts RSVP on an invitation, do yourself and the host a favor and actually take the time to respond. It's the polite thing to do. I am sure Ms. Manners would back me up on this one.
To that I say: "Ugh!" Get with the program, people!
If somebody puts RSVP on an invitation, do yourself and the host a favor and actually take the time to respond. It's the polite thing to do. I am sure Ms. Manners would back me up on this one.
And, while we're still on the topic. If you RSVP, "Yes" and then FAIL TO SHOW, it would be nice to let the host(s) know why. It's one thing if something unavoidable comes up or if you just had a plain ol' brain-fart—but apologize and let the host know why, if you can. A simple, "Hey, so sorry, this came up and unfortunately we won't be able to (or couldn't) make it," would suffice in most situations. It's that common courtesy thing a lot of people seem to lack these days.
Good thing there are still some out there picking up the slack for others! Here is an example of above and beyond when it comes to being unable to attend after having already RSVPed:
One couple we invited to our wedding shared our wedding date with their wedding anniversary, but still RSVPed "YES!", enthusiastically. They were thrilled to share such a special day with us. When we didn't see them, I found it surprising. It turned out that the husband had a heart attack while on a boat that same day. Luckily he ended up being okay, though they obviously were unable to attend our wedding. How did I find this out? We received a card in the mail after our wedding: the wife wrote telling us how sorry she was that they had to miss our wedding and the why. On top of that, they gave us a check! Now that is some unbelievable etiquette!
Needless to say, we wrote a very nice thank you and get-well card to them!
This segues into my next etiquette which is: writing Thank Yous.
My mom instilled in all of us early on that you write thank you notes. I don't know how well my siblings kept up, but I made sure to write notes for each birthday and Christmas to grandparents, to aunts and uncles, to whomever was nice enough to send gifts. I would take the time to write a personal thank you and let them know how I liked their gift and, if it was money, how I spent it (or intended to spend it). The same was true for graduations and bridal showers and bachelorette parties and weddings. To this day, I still write thank you notes. In fact, Grandma should be receiving one in the mail this week!
Why are thank you notes such a big deal? (Or perhaps the better sentiment, why should thank you notes be such a big deal?)
People take time to pick out gifts, especially when it comes to the "important occasions" like birthdays and graduations and weddings. Most people like to give something that they know the receiver will appreciate—and that takes thought as well as the literal time to purchase it and wrap it and send it (if applicable). Shouldn't the person(s) who take that time deserve to have the same courtesy returned in the form of a thank you? Besides that, most people like to know that their gift was received and wasn't lost or stolen or ignored. And if it's a monetary gift, remember too that it comes from their finances. Monetary gifts deserve just as much of a thank you as physical gifts.
Why are thank you notes such a big deal? (Or perhaps the better sentiment, why should thank you notes be such a big deal?)
People take time to pick out gifts, especially when it comes to the "important occasions" like birthdays and graduations and weddings. Most people like to give something that they know the receiver will appreciate—and that takes thought as well as the literal time to purchase it and wrap it and send it (if applicable). Shouldn't the person(s) who take that time deserve to have the same courtesy returned in the form of a thank you? Besides that, most people like to know that their gift was received and wasn't lost or stolen or ignored. And if it's a monetary gift, remember too that it comes from their finances. Monetary gifts deserve just as much of a thank you as physical gifts.
I thought that this was a common courtesy. Turns out this kind of etiquette has fallen so far down on the list that people don't bother thinking a "Thank you". Gifts are taken for granted. Gifts are assumed and expected and yet get no response.
There have been entire weddings where the bride and groom don't bother writing thank you notes AT ALL. Forget birthdays or graduations or new babies—those are hardly important gifts for which to thank someone. *Rolls eyes* Heck, in those situations I would have settled for a text message: Hey, got your present. Thanks! It is the digital age, after all—takes mere seconds to communicate! But even that—that simple pick-up-your-phone and take literally 30 seconds to type and send—people can't be bothered.
There should be no excuse. Pick up a pen and find that RSVP and respond. Put it in the mail. Find a nice card and write thank you notes to the people who take time out of their day to give you a present. Go to the new neighbors and welcome them to the neighborhood. Bonus points if you bring them baked goods and/or flowers! (I confess, I still need to greet one of our newest neighbors.) Common courtesy and etiquette extend beyond the pages; they are an essential vertebrae in the backbone of our society.
I sincerely hope that with each new generation, the art of RSVP and thank you notes, of sending birthday cards and writing an "I'm thinking of you note" will start to resurface. Facebook and e-mails and Skype and all those programs should help—not make obsolete what generations before have crafted into a meaningful way to communicate. And remember, too, that everybody enjoys opening the mailbox and finding a personal letter or card.
People absolutely get a free pass every once in a while. To err is human, so we might forget to RSVP to that one event (especially some of those socialites who get invited to everything!) or write a thank you note seven months late (sorry about that Grandma!). Don't make it a habit though. Don't consider it a "normal" part of your life. Instead, put that RSVP card somewhere you'll be able to find and put a deadline on your calendar ahead of the RSVP date to make sure you respond in time. Keep some nice-looking cards around and next time you receive a gift in the mail, pick one up and jot a quick thank you to the person who sent it to you. And if you really aren't one to write personal snail-mail thank yous, then use your phone or your tablet or iPad or computer and take advantage of all this technology at our fingertips! (Though I still am wholly in the snail-mail personal box!)
Acknowledge those who've taken time out of their lives for you. It's important.
People absolutely get a free pass every once in a while. To err is human, so we might forget to RSVP to that one event (especially some of those socialites who get invited to everything!) or write a thank you note seven months late (sorry about that Grandma!). Don't make it a habit though. Don't consider it a "normal" part of your life. Instead, put that RSVP card somewhere you'll be able to find and put a deadline on your calendar ahead of the RSVP date to make sure you respond in time. Keep some nice-looking cards around and next time you receive a gift in the mail, pick one up and jot a quick thank you to the person who sent it to you. And if you really aren't one to write personal snail-mail thank yous, then use your phone or your tablet or iPad or computer and take advantage of all this technology at our fingertips! (Though I still am wholly in the snail-mail personal box!)
Acknowledge those who've taken time out of their lives for you. It's important.
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