Please say "NO' to Quality Time

I have a special affinity for women's magazines. I don't really take all of the advice they advertise, but it's interesting to read another point of view. I love to read about the latest ways to save money on my groceries, although I often find only condiments in my refrigerator when I do decide to cook a meal. Designing on a dime is always fun, but I just put stuff where I think it looks good and that's free! Make-up tips are always great, except that I haven't deviated from my beauty routine in years. All of those recipes intrigue me -- I love to read them while eating!
I came upon an article a couple of years ago entitled "How to get 365 more things done every day". It gave such helpful hints as exercising or balancing your checkbook while you are one the phone. A great idea if you are on hold, but... if I am on the phone with a friend, I'm sure they would appreciate a little more of my attention. The author also suggested doing other things while driving. I live with the belief that for most people, driving alone is quite enough of a challenge without adding extemporaneous activities such as talking on the phone, text messening, putting on make-up, eating, smoking or doing aerobics. I talked with an acquaintance who used his drive time to read! Wow! There is a talented man!
I am a busy person who is always looking for ways to get less busy. I say no to obligations that overextend me. I hate to feel like I'm on a treadmill. Now you want me to do 365 MORE THINGS every day. No Way!
Magazines and trendy therapists often talk about scheduling "quality time" for your children and spouse. This time would be devoted solely to them. I guess you couldn't do aerobics or balance your checkbook while you were having "quality time". My vet asked me if I spend quality time with my pet. Lucy is a Golden Retriever whose sole purpose in life is to be with me every waking and sleeping moment. Quality time for Lucy is every minute that I am with her. (By the way, I did tell the vet that, yes, I did spend quality time with Lucy. I actually take her shopping. Subject for another blog.)
I lost a friend about a year ago. It seemed like a blink of eye from her surprise diagnosis of cancer, treatments, remission, relapse to earning her angel wings. Even now I am still can't believe that she's really gone. I am left with some regrets -- conversations I wanted to have, questions I wanted to ask, advice I needed to solicit. We have all lost friends and family members quickly, too soon.
As I thought about this concept of quality time, the I shook my head and thought, "no". We shouldn't have to schedule quality time with our loves ones, friends and even pets. Because every minute you spend with them should be quality time. We should be fully present for every conversation, every event ~ every time. I need to sit down, put away the checkbook, remote control, women's magazine and listen. Little children should be looked in the eye when they speak to you. Let them now that they count. Go out of your way to take the opportunities to spend time with your family. Those chances won't come around again. Give that hug. Say "I love you". At the end of my life, I want to look back and have no regrets. A lofty goal, but certainly one worth working toward.
Now, if you will excuse me, I need to have some quality time with the cupcake on my desk. It does deserve my full attention.

There's A Monster Under My Bed!

When I was a little girl living in Minnesota, the land of 100,000,000,000 mosquitoes, I was pretty convinced that there was a monster under my bed. During the day, the monster lay quietly under my bed while I played happily with my Barbie Dolls and Baby Alive. At night, however, the monster rustled around making noises and waiting for me to jump out of bed so it could grab my ankle and pull me under the bed, never to be seen again! My parents were never able to locate the beast and I had no proof of it's existance except my own keen child perception.
I'm a few years old and now I know without a doubt that there is a monster that lives under my bed.
There are several that will tell you this is a myth; there really is no cat. Few have seen her and to this day she comes and goes as she pleases. She has the markings of a seal point siamese and a tail in the shape of a "z", obviously the evidence of a tragic accident involving a door. She was adopted from the pound after being captured at my place of business. After picking her up at animal control, I took her to the vet to assure her health. The kitten was terrified and when released from the box shot straight up into the air and tried to climb up the wall. The vet, vet technician and I just stared at her for a minute as I have never seen anything like that in my life and we've had lots of cats! They needed a name for the veterinary records and, being reassured that it could be changed later, christened her Monster.
Monster was a study in patience. For the first several week, I only saw evidence of Monster. She was eating, using the litter box and mowing down my live plants. Monster never made an appearance while I was in the house and, I have to say, I was a little disappointed. I had visions of her nestled snugly on my lap on cold winter evenings next to a cozy fire. OK, so I don't own a fire place, but you can dream, right? Monster would not come anywhere near me. After a month or so, she would venture into the living room, but all it took was the blink of an eye and she would scamper back to hiding spot. I learned that when she made a celebrity appearance I just ignored her. It was really hard, but over time her appearances became more frequent and longer in duration.
Christmas came about two months after she joined the household. The tree was assembled and decorated and all was readied for the holiday. I can only imagine Monster's thoughts as she walked into the living room and saw the tree. Perhaps it was something like, "Finally, something I recognize. What a nice gesture! The tree will be just the thing to provide a hiding place from the dog." Monster climbed up the tree and remained there until January. She would pick a nice spot near the top and lay in wait for the next poor soul (person or dog) that would pass by. The unsuspecting victim would walk by and she would leap out at them!
Monster and I have developed some trust and I can actually pet her without holding her down and sedating her. She crawls into bed after the lights are out and curls up next to me. She'll stay there all night, purring and sleeping. Monster is still a stray at heart. She is very scrappy and doesn't buy into any sort of coddling. She'll jump into your lap, purring and nudging against your hand. You think, "Oh, what a sweet kitty" and start to pet her only to be surprised when she turned around and bites at your hand. Then you remember why her name is still Monster.
My mother is fascinated by Monster and want to hold and pet her. Monster doesn't think too much of that; not that my mother has ever caught her. My father wants to know why I can't get a cat that wants to be petted and cuddled. I see the progress that Monster and I have made. I know that Monster will never be a pet at heart. However, I believe that someone needs to love Monster and God has chosen me to be that someone. Sure, she still drives me crazy, especially when I bring fresh flowers into the house and she destroys them in 7.2 seconds. I really dislike how she feeds Halloween lollipops to the puppy (no, I'm not kidding!). I'm not real keen on her digging in my purse for the pens to carry around in her mouth. But she's my Monster and her place is under my bed!

Jobs I Wouldn't Want to Have

This will not go down in the books as the best week I have ever lived. Tow truck on Monday. Snow on Tuesday, Jump start on Wednesday. Jump start on Thursday morning in 33 below weather (without wind chill) and a new battery. (Thanks Ar VEE - you were right!) I have been fortunate in each circumstance to have someone to help me and those people were surprisingly pleasant. (See previous blog)
My gratitude for the tow truck guy made me look around at others who have occupations that are made harder by weather conditions, the people they serve or the very nature of their jobs. Here are a couple of jobs I would NOT want to have:
Postal Route Personnel - They are out delivering the mail in every kind of weather - freezing cold, blistering heat, rain, sleet, dark of night. You deserve every penny.
Crossing Guard/Playground attendent - Little kids don't seem to notice the cold. I can stand outside for approximately 2.76 seconds before my finger start to go numb.
Garbage Collection People - See Postal Workers.
Daycare Providers - I do children's ministry. I love children. However, my sister-in-law did daycare for three years. I need adult conversation. I like to get out and about during the day and see other people. God Bless you!
Massage Therapist - 99.752 percent of the population look better with their clothes on. My massage therapist is amazing. I couldn't do what you do.
Police Officers - I actually went to school for a short time to be a police officer. Whew! Dodged a bullet there. These people put up with all kinds of obnoxious, intoxicated, angry people every day in all kinds of weather. Thank God someone wants to do it!
Telemarketers - I can't take that much rejection!
I have worked several jobs, especially in my post-high school years that were not ideal. I cleaned dog kennels for a while. I worked at a retail store at Christmas time. I worked at a domestic violence shelter with women whose abusers were so violent they had to be moved from shelter to shelter so they couldn't be found. Each of these jobs taught me something that I still apply to my life today.
When you are tempted to be short-tempered with a customer service representative who seems to be moving at the speed of dark, remember that they are just trying to pay the bills. This probably isn't their dream job either. Thank them for their time. Praise great service. Be generous to an ambitious server. Be thankful there are those who will do these jobs so we don't have to.

Thanks Mr. Tow Truck Guy!

This week's Monday started out like any other day. The alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. - two hours before I was ready to get up. I had cleaned at home all weekend dejunking closets, disinfecting counters and trying to determine the cause of my vacuum's decision to blow instead of suck. Sunday was my day of rest and worship, so I napped just to keep with the whole "rest" theme.
Monday morning dawned cold. The sun doesn't rise hear until about 8:25 a.m., so it seems even earlier than 7:30 a.m. when I opened the garage door and attempted to get the car out of the driveway. I say attempted because I was not successful in actually getting out the driveway. My car got stuck in the middle of the wasteland formerly known as the driveway - a passageway from garage to alley. No amount of alternating between reverse and drive would dislodge the car. It only succeeded in burying the front tires into ruts. After about 30 minutes of shoveling and resisting the urge to speak in cursive, I gave up and called the tow truck to rescue me from my driveway.
This has been a busy season for our tow truck techinicians. They told me I would have a two hour wait, to which I responded, "I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere until you get here." They commented thankfully that I was very understanding compared other customers they had encountered that day. There's no point in being tough on these guys. You have to wait your turn. Didn't they teach us that in kindergarten?
The tow truck driver guy came - earlier than estimated - and within 10 minutes had my car winched out of the hole I had created and ready to back out into the alley. He was polite and pleasant. I wouldn't have been happier.
As I jumped/crawled into his truck cab to write out the check, he told me that he had been at the scene of an accident at 1 a.m. and hadn't slept since that time. He was on his way south to Fort Rice and Cannonball (quite a jaunt from Mandan) and hoped to get some sleep soon. He apologized for the cost of his services, it was quite a steep bill. However, I wasn't in the market to shop around AND I keep roadside assistance on my car insurance for just this reason.
As he drove away, I said a little prayer for him. Here'a young man who works out in the elements at all hours of the day and night. He often gets called out to terrible accidents, apparently works with many disgruntled customers and has to pull people out of bad decisions that ended up being accidents.
As I drove to work, my mind was already trying to devise a plan to remove the snow from my driveway to avoid crossing paths with another tow truck driver. Many wonderful people have pitched in to help out since Monday and I have a bobcat coming on Saturday to work on the back area of my house. I guess winter does bring out the best in some people. Maybe it's that I live in a state that still believes in helping out their neighbor. When you stop giving each other a hand, you have to pay someone to give you a tow.

Mysteries Under the Hood

I like to think of myself as woman of the millenium. Independent and able to take care of myself. I have been known to snake a drain, move a piano by myself to clean carpets and make a mean batch of scotcheroos. However, I must admit that I know virtually nothing about my car.
I was in the market for a new vehicle in the fall of 2007. My brother was overjoyed by the news, dedicating his Saturdays to driving around every car lot in the Bismarck/Mandan area in search of the perfect car. It had to be a four-door, as I have outgrown the novelty of a two-door vehicle that requires you to crawl out of the backseat. I wanted a CD player and air conditioning. Not an impressive list of demands, but I was transitioning from a Ford Contour, so almost anything was a step up. For three and a half weeks, I looked, test drove, avoided salepeople, dodged phones call from the more desperate dealership employees and prayed that God would lead me to the car I was supposed to buy. My brother is a Dodge man; I have no preference. He got a little misty the day I finally decided on my Dodge Stratus.
Unlike the old Forde, my 2006 Stratus could keep up with traffic speeds, even on hills. I didn't have to turn the air conditioning off while idling at intersections to keep the engine from dying. I still haven't completely gotten over the novelty of having a new vehicle.
About two months ago, I had to have the car jump started after accidentally leaving the trunk ajar for about five hours. Not a big deal, just an inconvenience. Three weeks later, during a bitter cold spell, it refused to turn over in the church parking lot after worship. Both times, kind, saintly friends battled the frigid temps to jump start the car and get me going again. I had the battery and the alternator checked and both were deemed find. This weekend, the car did not turn over when I returned from a trip to Dickinson. Fortunately for me, the kindly college student that jump started my car knows her way around the inside of the hood. Sunday afternoon, no dice. Dead in the garage.
Everything under the hood of my car is a complete mystery to me. I don't know what that stuff does. I know that you start the car and drive. You need to put gas in. On cold winter days, you need to use gas with ethanol. You need to change the oil every 3,000 miles or so. The people at the oil change place refill my fluids. Sounds a little strange, but they offered! I was actually talked in to the fact that I needed to have my muffler belt changed. Yikes!
I am so blessed to have friends, men in my church family and a brother who knows a bit more than I about what's under the hood. They have given me a great deal of valuable advice, endured harsh weather conditions to get my car going and teach me what they can about car maintenance. The topic of conversation at the church potluck last night was my car troubles. Apparently there is a connection between my starter getting cold and a problem that disguises itself as a battery issue. People are going all out solve this for me. I'll keep you posted.
In the meantime, we are due for another 4 to 7 inches of snow with blowing and drifting snow and zero visibility. It may be a moot point whether my car starts of not if I can't get out of my garage. The joys of winter on the prairie.

Welcome 2009!

2009 entered rather quietly for me. I had a gathering of friends at my house on New Year's Eve. We spent the evening enjoying wonderful food, great conversation, more food -- what could be better?!? However, I could see that as we passed the 10 p.m. mark, my guests began to droop. By 11 p.m., even the teenagers made a quiet exit and I was left alone to ponder 2009 as I washed dishes and turned off lights.
I poured myself a glass of sparkling juice and Lucy did a final sweep of the house to snarf up crumbs and a discarded cookie. I turned on the television and watched as the Waterford crystal-clad ball dropped in New York. I wondered about the sanity of those standing in the freezing cold for 12 hours just to ring in the New Year at Time Square. I was in my comfy pajamas in a warm living room enjoying the Christmas tree lights with a furry, faithful companion by my side. Life is good!
Excitement may not be an adjective many people use to describe my life. Although my schedule is pretty full, it's very predictable. I used to long for a life that was one adventure after another. Now that I am a little older, even normal things can be considered an adventure. Parking at WalMart on any given Saturday -- not for the faint of heart. Taking a vanload full of youth groups kids out-of-state for a weekend of outdoor concerts -- let's see Sylvester Stallone tack that one! Eating Mexican food within four hours of bedtime - that's all the danger I can handle.
I'm not that old. On my next birthday, I'll be 30 something. However, my knees can already predict the weather better than any local meteorologist. (I'd love a job where I only needed to be right 30 percent of the time!) Walking down the mall last month, I saw two teenagers in a very vivid "public display of affection" (PDA). Instantly I thought, "Does your mother know you do that?". Yikes!!! My grandmother has been reincarnated!
My life is not boring. I like to try new things, but as my father says, I like to let my hair down. It's just that I'm a pretty short-haired person. I hope that 2009 holds just enough adventure to keep me young, just enough danger to keep me faithful in prayer and just enough tums that I can eat Mexican at least once a month.
My wish to you... just enough!