Need a favor?

You know that little story in which the little boy needs a simple favor but in order to get it he has to complete task after task for people along the way . . . that is my life. Is this normal? Does every action generate multiple reactions that have to be addressed? I feel I am always in negotiation with someone for something. Maybe I need to learn the word, ‘no’. If I said “no” more often that might stop the cycle.

Could it be me? Is it my need to be a people pleasure? My need to have things my way but care too much about hurting feelings to just out right say/do what I want. I long for a simple day; a silly simple day.

On the bright side I did see the most wonderful thing on the way into work today. I was stopped at a cross-walk near a local YMCA. The daycare team was leading a group of (3-4) year olds across the street. They were paired up, side-by-side, like the story from Madeleine. They were so cute one couldn’t help but smile. That was a wonderful treat for my eyes and it is my calm thought for this most busy (favor chasing) day.

Assignment: Remind me to just say no! No, let’s be more positive: Seek joy in the simplest of things.

Ranting . .

Warning: Negative Nancy is writing this entry because she is mad as hell and she is not going to take it anymore. All women should be mad as hell. American should be mad too! Heck, every warm blooded living creature should be raising their fists in the air and shouting “enough”!

First, while standing in line at the checkout yesterday I couldn’t help but notice that Kim Kardashian’s honeymoon was plastered all over the weekly rag-mags. I picked one up and looked through it. Who does this? Who sells the rights to their most private moments? What type of mom makes a career of manufacturing her children? Who the hell is watching this stuff and asking for more? Enough – Enough – Enough. Please stop, because some day historians are going to look back knowing that we had the technology advancements to change the world for the better but we wasted them on lack luster, talent barren, sex tape making g celebrities.

Now on to my next rant. Really, a medical treatment to grow eyelashes – is that the next level of insecurity marketing moguls are burdening women with today? Please don’t get me wrong, if I didn’t have eyelashes it would trouble me, but this commercial is specifically made for older women who are discovering that their lashes are not as long or full as they once were. Then the commercial goes on to list the incredibly horrible possible side effects. . but at least they promise you will have lashes so long your glasses will smudge with mascara.

Look at the history of beauty for women over the last century: corsets, hoop skirts, hair treatments, make-up, plastic surgery, Botox and now longer, fuller lashes? Every few years there is another advancement to remind us that we should strive to live a long life but good golly don’t let anyone think you might be aging.

Women, stop allowing this belittlement to be assigned to aging. Stop buying into the racket. Every single day I have to counter a negative thought about my hair, body, or skin with a positive ‘but at least I still have my “whatever” thought. It isn’t easy to age. I know. I certainly spend enough on hair, make-up, and other things to ensure I meet the minimal accepted social requirements for a woman edging out of her forties. It does make me feel better about myself but I certainly don’t need anything else to strive for because my schedule is full.

Assignment: Put the magazine down and walk away.

Words

It is clear by the way they are carrying their backpack and telling the story, these two ‘All American-Girls” ahead of me on the sidewalk are freshman at one of the local colleges. . .

“So, then I said shit Bobby and my professor is like, ‘Your Sarah right’ and then my professor was annoyed with me and surprised I swore in front of her. It think Bobby was too. Cha, do we swear a lot?”

“I think we do. You know that one girl who is like one of my new good friends? Well I think I shocked her at lunch when I was like “F-ck this and F-ck that”. She was like, ‘whoa’ and not used to the swearing. My sister said I swear a lot too. I tripped and yelled ‘G-damn’ and she was like, you curse to much”.

‘Oh, I know, I think other students think it is odd. Like, this one time . . . . . . .”

Well, guess what ladies – you spent 2 blocks cursing and telling stories about cursing and I am sure you continued well after I made my break from you. So, here is what we know: Bobby, your professor, your sister, other students, and I think you not only curse a lot – but you sound immature while doing it. It is pointless, there is no art-form to your words, and you think it is okay to transition these words into the English Language. You don't do it for shock value - or maybe you do - but your immaturity is as obvious as an ill-fitting pair of shoes – we can see your awkwardness a mile away.

The names have been changed. The curse words are foggy because they were dropping them faster than my mind could process.

Assignment: Select your words wisely.

Change in Attitude

Today is the mid-point of my running partner and my forth week. We have continued to meet at the tract at 6:30 three days a week. Our workouts have grown from ‘easy’ to ‘my legs are killing me’. We are up to two miles (running 1.5 and walking a half). It hurts. I often feel like I am running in place, literally; like my legs are going but I am not moving forward. But we continue because we are going to finish what we started. I remember my past running days and I know that soon our legs will no longer ache and that we will break through that running wall to enter a zone.

It is coming . . .. so I just have to hold on a little bit longer. Goodness knows, to run a race a gal has to do some training.

Assignment: Change your attitude and change your world. Today my running partner blasted through her last half mile. Her focus was run faster – finish faster. My focus was, how can I do this? Time for a change!

something to think about . . . .

This past weekend, Tom, Maddy and I took a day trip up north to visit with Tom’s sisters, brothers-in-law and mom at the lake. It was a cool day so instead of a trip on the water we watched some videos of days long ago. In 1999, Tom’s mom had an 80th (yes, she is 92 now) birthday party in Holden Beach, North Carolina and the family all came to celebrate. The whole thing was pretty much the definition of a perfect vacation. Tom’s brother-in-law Mike had just gotten a new video camera so he captured everything –EVERYTHING – that happened during that vacation.

As I watched a shy and beautiful five-year old Maddy or a camera seeking toothless six-year old Andy; I laughed and cried in happiness. However, watching Tom and I from 12 years ago was like time traveling. I cannot believe how different we have become in just such a short timeframe. Tom was at his athletic peak – those arms were cannons. His hair was dark and yes, you read that right, he had hair. I was fit and my arms and legs were trim. People!, I was wearing a two-piece . . on the beach . .in public! I had been remembering myself as a lean women in past years but this video confirmed . . .I have always had curves even when I was in top shape. We were young, tan, and athletic but what really stood out was how much energy we had.

You know when you go to an older persons home and see photos of them as a young adult; in their thirties and forties, . . .then you try as hard as you can to imagine that person in front of you and the life they lived and the person they were in a different time. Well, that is what happened to me – looking at myself – through the lens of a 12 year old camera.

Assignment: Live in the moment but share stories of your past . . . give them something to think about . . .

A week in my life

Just when you make a promise to your nine “followers” that you will start writing your blog again, the computer needs repair and updating. But fear not my faithful non-cult-like friends (really, followers is the word BlogSpot selects?) this is my week in summary.

Timeline for framework: August 10th – 19th

Wednesday: Woke to find that our yard had been toilet papered (TP) over night. It was a very neat and clean job. We were sure it was some of Andy’s female friends wishing him goodbye and good luck in college. How cute. Andy, wake up and clean this up.

Thursday: Officially spend 1 zillion dollars on all the college must haves for the freshman year.

Friday: Pack, Pack, re-pack, pack. Then we all gather for a family dinner.















Saturday: Tom, Maddy, and I take Andy to college and I don’t cry on campus! I do, however cry at the most unexpected times throughout the day and week.
















Sunday: Oh, those funny friends of Andy’s – the TP our house again. This time the ‘fork’ us to. Sorry, Andy is gone so we have to clean this up. Then we have to drive back to college to bring the things that we couldn’t get in the car the day before . . .guess what you call two parents, on campus, the day after load in, sitting in the dorm hall for nearly an hour because their son can’t be reached . . . ? Okay, we will be PC and call it ‘awkward’.

Monday: Listen, you stupid little punks . . . .Stop toilet papering, forking, and destroying our yard. It takes me an hour to clean up while I am crying. Then I go to work and it is a full day of Monday!

Tuesday: Tom has a birthday today. He is 56 and still a full on hottie. We have cheesecake to celebrate. Good day!













Wednesday: Not sleeping much this week because I am listening for the TP to begin. It suddenly catches up to me and I go to bed at 8:30. Maddy has spots.

Thursday: My car’s computer system is sounding the alarm and our service friend tells me not to drive it. He can’t see it till next Tuesday. I get to drive the car the kids’ grandma gave them. It is teal. It has roll down windows. There is a hole in the muffler. The air doesn’t work. Right, I know, I am lucky to have an extra car to use so don’t judge me if I sound ungrateful.

Maddy’s spots are MRSA. Let me go on record, if there is/was anything that is to be gotten then Maddy will be the one to get it: colic, night terrors, cancer, mono, MRSA . . . Poor Maddy the medical magnet. Good thing she is one tough kid who can strike fear in the strongest among us. Don’t mess with Maddy.

















Friday: Jake’s in town! Jake’s in town! The kids bring Max
to my office for a visit. We all met up after work for the West Michigan screening of www.hankfrisco.com and dinner with family and friends. Our friends the Morrison’s drink and ditch (not really but they think they did which is so cute). Family, friends, food, film – good ending to the week.



P.S: Jake is my son. He is my oldest son. He is a great man who is making Chicago his home. He is funny, creative, faithful, and caring. Visit the Hank Frisco website and support the creative efforts of this cheeky, cheesy, and clever webisode.

And, that was my week.

Assignment: The sun will come out tomorrow, betcha bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun.

P.S: As I complete this entry the sky’s break open and the rain begins. We are having a full on thunder storm on a Saturday morning: A rare and wonderful gift to be home, with no plans, and a thunder storm. I love it. Who needs the sun coming out to make a good day!?

Surprise!

My work in the city has exposed me to a number of things that certainly spike my interest but really don't surprise me any longer. Hearing a man/woman in a lively (and loud) conversation with themselves? Please, that is a daily occurrence and most of the time . . .there isn't a bluetooth involved.

I once heard a man ask for some money from a stranger. Again, daily occurrence but I loved his angle "Listen I need a few bucks to buy some beer. I am coming down from a heroin high and I need to get something fast". Hum, the honest approach; it worked for Macy's in Miracle on 34th Street and it worked for this guy. I think we all respected him a little more that day.

The local "please my children are at home alone and my car is broken down" lady was once spotted actually flagging down a taxi. I don't know if she was really going home this time but I saw her get in the cab. Side note: Why is it I can recognized those people who ask me for money EVERY DAY but they can't recognize me? Isn't that an important skill set for that profession? Confession: Sometimes I give her a buck just because she does tell the story well.

Now this story . . . and it surprised me. Let me set the stage: It is a Friday afternoon on a hot summer day. I had to work late that night so I walked down to the local Subway for a late lunch/early dinner. The only people in Subway: me and the sandwich artist (their title not mine). I take a seat near the door and windows so I can listen to the news and scan my phone messages.

In walks a man with a bike helmet and no bike. I know he doesn't have a bike because I am sitting at the window. He orders a yogurt, walks over to my table, sits down, opens the yogurt, licks the top, and starts eating. No "hello". No "is this seat taken"? No "how you doing"? I finish up my business and leave without saying goodbye.

Odd right? Well here is where I get surprised. I come home to tell my hubby Tom what happened. This is our conversation:

Me: blah, blah, blah - the story I just wrote.
Tom: Did he sit across from you?
Me: No - across and to the side.
Tom: Oh, it would have been worse if he sat across from you. Maybe he just doesn't like to eat alone.

Okay . . . .(insert loud car brake sounds and tires burning) . . .back this up! I expected "maybe he thought you were hot" because that would have gotten Tom and eye roll and points. I thought maybe a "hell yes that is odd - you stop eating alone" because that would have made him feel protective. I thought maybe a "yeah - strange", ah, because it was! But never, ever, never, did I think "maybe he doesn't like to eat alone"!!!

Assignment: Just because you have lived, loved and been with someone for 23 years; you can still find surprise in your relationship.

Story Teller

I have always loved to tell stories. In elementary school my classmates and I created a game that I would later learn was called improvisation. Friends would give me three words and I would weave a story to keep us entertained and distracted from math.

Speech class was mandatory once I entered middle school so I was free to spin my stories with the teachers approval. My speech teacher grew to be a great mentor and positive influence in my life. She encouraged me to audition for the talent show and school theatre. Through theatre I not only had the freedom to tell stories but I had a warm and welcoming community of friends, a foundation for growing confidence, and hands-on experience that would later benefit my career.

Once I entered the world of non-profit, my joy for story telling took on a new meaning. The stories I shared had real faces, real families and real challenges, successes, and solutions. I was happy - this was my calling - but deep in my heart I hoped to someday come back to theatre. Then in a strange twist of fate and a number of circumstances that lead to a friendship, I learned of an opening at a local community theatre. I applied, I was offer the position, and for the past year I have experienced joy and career enrichment I didn't know possible. I am not on the stage but behind the scenes; telling the story of the importance of art in our communities. I am helping to share the magic of live theatre with thousands. I am blessed.

You may not believe in God but I have to tell you I do. I do because I am certainly not smart enough to link all the right people, circumstances, and skill sets needed to bring this story to this point in my life. If left to my own desire, I would be a comfortably kept woman on a sofa eating bonbons while watching soaps to fill the void in my life. No lie, my personal expectations have always been low. Thank God I have learned not to follow my own desire.

Assignment: You know that feeling that you have deep, deep inside telling you to do something, take action, follow this path instead of that path . . . .trust that you have been given all that you need and you will find purpose. Trust, Believe, and Listen.

Fear - she's a bitch

It has been nearly a year since I have written an entry on this blog. At first it was because my mojo had dried and creative Nancy was no where to be found. Then it was time, or the lack of it, so I just didn't write. Then it was easier to be lazy; to put it off, and suddenly that was the norm.

Things have happened in the last year and I know the meditation through writing would have probably helped clear my head and set things straight but it was easier just to NOT do it because NOT doing it would mean I couldn't fail. It also meant that I didn't have to face the changes that were happening.

It is funny how fear can stop us from doing things we like. Fear of success is a paralyzing emotion and nearly has harmful as fear of failure. Fear can rob a person of joy and fulfilment. It can hold a person back from achieving potential. Fear, shes a bitch.

Writing the blog isn't the only fear that has been holding me back. I have also been afraid to really get healthy again. In my 20's and 30's I was fit and felt great. Now, in my 40's I've found it easier to just NOT be fit or healthy. I had a major eye opener this past June at the camp for which I volunteer. I was 'racing' one of my campers and at the end I was doubled over and unable to get my breath . . .for A. Very.Long.Time. That has never, ever, never, been the case before and ouch, the pride was punctured, I realized I might actually have an expiration date and it could be enforced sooner than expected if I didn't stop - STOPPING.

So as the final year of my 40's quickly approaches, I am not going to take this laying down an longer . . .(er, not going to take this sitting on the couch, laying down, or anything to avoid body movement). I have found a running friend and we are going to hold each other accountable to see this thing through. We have a 5k goal for October 1st (send good thoughts)as our first motivational target. I have also been doing core workouts to keep my back in shape because it isn't until that baby hurts 24-7 that you realize how important a back is to your overall happiness.

But mostly, I have decided that fear will not rob me of my joy any longer. By the way, you have no idea how afraid I was to post that I am 'working out again' because I have failed at this many times over the past years but that is the point isn't it.

Talk with you soon . . . .promise.

Assignment: Help others find peace in the sea of fear they may face.