Egads. March 27. Forgive me.
It's been too long. How have you been?
I had a jumpstart to begin writing again, which is why I'm back. I've thought about it plenty of times before, but haven't found the words or ideas.
Today, I met them. In the yarn aisle of Michael's craft store.
I was cruising through with Baby (who's now two - egads again), with a few gift cards smoldering some holes in my pocket, when I looked up to see the aisle blocked ahead of me. There was a middle-aged woman, helping an older woman in a wheelchair look for some colors. Between them and us was an older gentlemen, whom I presumed to be the woman's husband.
He started making faces at Baby, who I had pulled back from the verge of a nap to squeeze in this errand. Needless to say, he wasn't his usual outgoing, charming self, but the gentleman pulled him out of it.
"Are you a good boy for your mama?" the man asked.
"Most of the time," I laughed. "He has his moments, though, but mostly, he's pretty good."
"They are," he replied. "I should know. I have nine of 'em. She's one of the younger ones, over there," gesturing toward the woman in the aisle.
He went on to say that he walks three miles each and every day - "weather permitting" - and has been married for 62 of his 88 years. Exercise is the key, he said.
And one other thing.
"62 years?" I whistled. "And you're still talking to each other?"
"I'll tell you a secret," he said, eyes twinkling. "There have been fights, wild times. But whenever you find yourself in a fight, before you go to bed at night, you lean over and tell the other person, 'I'm sorry.' And you give'em a peck on the cheek. It will work wonders, I promise."
If those aren't lessons to send directly to your heart, and live by, I don't what would be. May the angel who directed our paths to cross grant he and his wife another 62 happy years.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Noise, noise, noise!
If these words sound familiar to you, it's probably because you, too, have seen "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas."
Lately, the Grinch's line about the racket from toys keeps striking me as applicable to the overload of information we're all facing.
I love social media, and am a self-proclaimed all around media geek. But lately, it's become too much.
I'm on Twitter, and really like it, both for my reporting and just keeping up on the world. But between that, and Facebook, and LinkedIn, and the blogs I read for work, and the words I consume for work ... well, at the end of the day, my brain feels like plain ol' mush.
I find I'm more tired that usual, and mentally tired at that. Like the very act of picking up the phone seems difficult, and that I crave time to zone out more.
For example, when my dear husband was interested in hearing about my day last night after I got home late from an event, I found myself increasingly annoyed that he wouldn't let me just watch "ER" (yes, I'm one of the seven or so people who still watch it. Sue me.).
I turned it off, but I can't help but think I might not be so apt to lose myself in fictional emergency rooms and would be more engaging to talk to if I wasn't glued to a constant stream of information all day.
I say all this with no solution, of course, but as an observation. It's a way that media is changing, evolving, and it won't go back. We'll all figure out how to manage it in our own way. But for me, right now, it just all sounds way too noisy, and it's drowning out the sound of my real, and important, life.
Lately, the Grinch's line about the racket from toys keeps striking me as applicable to the overload of information we're all facing.
I love social media, and am a self-proclaimed all around media geek. But lately, it's become too much.
I'm on Twitter, and really like it, both for my reporting and just keeping up on the world. But between that, and Facebook, and LinkedIn, and the blogs I read for work, and the words I consume for work ... well, at the end of the day, my brain feels like plain ol' mush.
I find I'm more tired that usual, and mentally tired at that. Like the very act of picking up the phone seems difficult, and that I crave time to zone out more.
For example, when my dear husband was interested in hearing about my day last night after I got home late from an event, I found myself increasingly annoyed that he wouldn't let me just watch "ER" (yes, I'm one of the seven or so people who still watch it. Sue me.).
I turned it off, but I can't help but think I might not be so apt to lose myself in fictional emergency rooms and would be more engaging to talk to if I wasn't glued to a constant stream of information all day.
I say all this with no solution, of course, but as an observation. It's a way that media is changing, evolving, and it won't go back. We'll all figure out how to manage it in our own way. But for me, right now, it just all sounds way too noisy, and it's drowning out the sound of my real, and important, life.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Home safe
I usually debate whether or not to pick up calls that come up as "Private Number" on the caller ID. Especially since they're usually trying to sell me some sort of extended rebate.
On Saturday, I'm glad I took a chance. C. was calling from Nome, AK to say that a weather window which was quickly closing sent him and his crew packing early. He'd be flying from Anchorage Sunday.
Excellent, I thought. What good news.
And then there was this little matter of an erupting volcano (other than the one he normally lives with).
Thankfully, the smart pilots of his plane boarded everyone 20 minutes early, and got the heck outta Dodge (or Anchorage) just in time. He's happily snoozing (along with the cat and the dog) next to me. And we're all very glad to have him home safe and sound.
On Saturday, I'm glad I took a chance. C. was calling from Nome, AK to say that a weather window which was quickly closing sent him and his crew packing early. He'd be flying from Anchorage Sunday.
Excellent, I thought. What good news.
And then there was this little matter of an erupting volcano (other than the one he normally lives with).
Thankfully, the smart pilots of his plane boarded everyone 20 minutes early, and got the heck outta Dodge (or Anchorage) just in time. He's happily snoozing (along with the cat and the dog) next to me. And we're all very glad to have him home safe and sound.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
So far, so good
... there's still plenty of wine left.
C. landed safely aboard the ship, and promises via e-mail that he has tales to tell of riding a four by four in -20 degree weather, holding on for dear life on the way out to the puddlejumper. He spent some time in a village of 600 people, one that has been largely self-sufficient for much of the 20th century. And the helicopter ride to the ship was "way cool."
Meanwhile, back in not-almost-Russia, things are going OK. Baby is working with Mama on negotiations, and short of few deal breakers (yes, you must get your diapered-butt out of your baby easy chair and actually sit in your high chair if you want your dinner), we've been working together well.
I spoke at an event tonight of women business owners (thanks to some able assistance from my friend Meg, who is an awesome, I repeat, awesome babysitter), which was both fun and humbling. Except for when she sent me a text message asking what color Stout, our cat is. And that she may have just dragged a strange cat into our house. Maybe. (She didn't. It was Stout the Adventurer, who had braved the wilds known as our back porch.)
But I digress.
The humbling part: Two of the women I was speaking with had husbands who recently returned from being deployed to Iraq. While I may fret and joke about how hard my 10 day stint may be, it ain't nothing compared to that. My hat's off to you, ladies.
C. landed safely aboard the ship, and promises via e-mail that he has tales to tell of riding a four by four in -20 degree weather, holding on for dear life on the way out to the puddlejumper. He spent some time in a village of 600 people, one that has been largely self-sufficient for much of the 20th century. And the helicopter ride to the ship was "way cool."
Meanwhile, back in not-almost-Russia, things are going OK. Baby is working with Mama on negotiations, and short of few deal breakers (yes, you must get your diapered-butt out of your baby easy chair and actually sit in your high chair if you want your dinner), we've been working together well.
I spoke at an event tonight of women business owners (thanks to some able assistance from my friend Meg, who is an awesome, I repeat, awesome babysitter), which was both fun and humbling. Except for when she sent me a text message asking what color Stout, our cat is. And that she may have just dragged a strange cat into our house. Maybe. (She didn't. It was Stout the Adventurer, who had braved the wilds known as our back porch.)
But I digress.
The humbling part: Two of the women I was speaking with had husbands who recently returned from being deployed to Iraq. While I may fret and joke about how hard my 10 day stint may be, it ain't nothing compared to that. My hat's off to you, ladies.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Arc-tic
So I banished him to Siberia.
Well, not exactly. Today, my dear C took off for the Arctic.
Yes, the Arctic. Really, who gets to say that?
He's off on an Arctic research cruise, which involves three flights, and then a helicopter to a ship just shy of somewhere in the Bering Sea.
Yes, he will actually be able to see Russia from his house.
As for me, this marks the first time Baby and I will be going it alone for a whole 10 days.
Nervous, you ask? Whatever should I be nervous about? How bad could handling an active 18 month old be?
Exactly. I appreciate you not answering that.
So we begin day one. I'll be keeping the wine bottle count here, so be sure to tune in frequently to see how I'm "handling" things.
Current wine count: One glass. (OK, a really big glass. Work with me here.)
Well, not exactly. Today, my dear C took off for the Arctic.
Yes, the Arctic. Really, who gets to say that?
He's off on an Arctic research cruise, which involves three flights, and then a helicopter to a ship just shy of somewhere in the Bering Sea.
Yes, he will actually be able to see Russia from his house.
As for me, this marks the first time Baby and I will be going it alone for a whole 10 days.
Nervous, you ask? Whatever should I be nervous about? How bad could handling an active 18 month old be?
Exactly. I appreciate you not answering that.
So we begin day one. I'll be keeping the wine bottle count here, so be sure to tune in frequently to see how I'm "handling" things.
Current wine count: One glass. (OK, a really big glass. Work with me here.)
A lifting of the fog
Sheesh, I can be dark.
Such is what happens when these couple of demons I do battle with from time to time get sneaky, conspire together, and decide to gang up on me.
But thankfully, I've gotten my wind back after their sneak smack in the gut, and am feeling better.
Thanks for bearing with me, all. Now, back to our normally scheduled chaos of mommyhood.
Such is what happens when these couple of demons I do battle with from time to time get sneaky, conspire together, and decide to gang up on me.
But thankfully, I've gotten my wind back after their sneak smack in the gut, and am feeling better.
Thanks for bearing with me, all. Now, back to our normally scheduled chaos of mommyhood.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Me-lancholy
Maybe it's the weather. Or maybe I've mysteriously lapsed back into the seventh grade. Or it could be that haze that I usually can outrun has caught up with me as it does from time to time.
Whatever it is, I'm feeling so inexplicably sad and lonely right now. With no good reason to, mind you. But it's the kind of thing when you keep checking e-mail, or looking at your phone, just in case there might be a message. Any message, but particularly one from someone you haven't heard from in a long time, or who just had to call to say how great you were. And each time, you look away, disappointed.
It's a lot like those junior high years, where a message scrawled by your mom on a notepad that so and so called - or worse, no note at all - could make or break your day.
The vast number of communications methods that can you mock you with their silence is worse now though, and if it's this way for a grown woman, I can only imagine being 13 again. Rejection for me was limited to staring relentlessly at the French phone in my room, willing it to ring. Now, kids can be snubbed on Facebook, on Twitter, by e-mail, by text message. And worse, there's no hoping that maybe they were just too busy to call. All those status updates proclaim otherwise.
As for me, I'll push through the haze, probably much in the same way I did back in seventh grade: sometimes sloppily, sometimes gracefully, and mostly stubbornly, all while listening to too much 1980's music. And eventually, I'll make that French phone ring.
Whatever it is, I'm feeling so inexplicably sad and lonely right now. With no good reason to, mind you. But it's the kind of thing when you keep checking e-mail, or looking at your phone, just in case there might be a message. Any message, but particularly one from someone you haven't heard from in a long time, or who just had to call to say how great you were. And each time, you look away, disappointed.
It's a lot like those junior high years, where a message scrawled by your mom on a notepad that so and so called - or worse, no note at all - could make or break your day.
The vast number of communications methods that can you mock you with their silence is worse now though, and if it's this way for a grown woman, I can only imagine being 13 again. Rejection for me was limited to staring relentlessly at the French phone in my room, willing it to ring. Now, kids can be snubbed on Facebook, on Twitter, by e-mail, by text message. And worse, there's no hoping that maybe they were just too busy to call. All those status updates proclaim otherwise.
As for me, I'll push through the haze, probably much in the same way I did back in seventh grade: sometimes sloppily, sometimes gracefully, and mostly stubbornly, all while listening to too much 1980's music. And eventually, I'll make that French phone ring.
Overheard in the Kitchen
After hearing a short gasp coming from the kitchen, C stated the following wisdom:
"It's not good when you see the blood and you don't feel the pain, is it?"
(Postscript: Thankfully, it was a near miss, and the culprit was more strawberry juice than blood.)
"It's not good when you see the blood and you don't feel the pain, is it?"
(Postscript: Thankfully, it was a near miss, and the culprit was more strawberry juice than blood.)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Don't go changing
Money doesn't just stay put. We get a big check, a big bonus, a big payoff, and invest it, and think we've moved our gamepiece to a new spot on the board.
If there's anything this economic mess has taught us, it's that a move from the "Sorry" game does exist. You can find yourself sliding back to start. Just because you know have $100 doesn't mean that $100 will be more tomorrow, like we've all experienced for the past few years.
I just realized friendships are the same way. I'm fortunate to have very dear friends, whom I still equate to value they were at when they first became strong, even decades ago. But it just dawned on me (not for any particular reason, just some insight), that, like investments, they need to be checked in on and maintained in order to remain solid, and hopefully grow.
A good lesson in both the currency of life and love.
If there's anything this economic mess has taught us, it's that a move from the "Sorry" game does exist. You can find yourself sliding back to start. Just because you know have $100 doesn't mean that $100 will be more tomorrow, like we've all experienced for the past few years.
I just realized friendships are the same way. I'm fortunate to have very dear friends, whom I still equate to value they were at when they first became strong, even decades ago. But it just dawned on me (not for any particular reason, just some insight), that, like investments, they need to be checked in on and maintained in order to remain solid, and hopefully grow.
A good lesson in both the currency of life and love.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Well of Inspiration
I'm starting a new category here. I read a ton of stuff for work, much of which is on workplace issues, how to improve your career, creativity, etc.
I realize I'm not putting them all in one place.
So now I am. Anything I read that I:
a) Want to return to again for inspiration or ideas or thoughts
b) Find myself going, a-ha! Really? Huh, interesting
I shall now gather up and stash here.
Here's the first one: Copyblogger has a great list of ways of How to Be Interesting.
Enjoy!
I realize I'm not putting them all in one place.
So now I am. Anything I read that I:
a) Want to return to again for inspiration or ideas or thoughts
b) Find myself going, a-ha! Really? Huh, interesting
I shall now gather up and stash here.
Here's the first one: Copyblogger has a great list of ways of How to Be Interesting.
Enjoy!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Rock of Love
How do you know your husband loves you?
He skips the Pajama Gram Valentine's Day gift and instead goes straight for Guitar Hero.
How do you know your husband really loves you?
He gives you Guitar Hero nearly a full week before Valentine's Day, as soon as he brings it home.
How do you know your husband really, really loves you?
He cracks up at your level of GH excitement, refrains (mostly) from making comments about his wife acting like a 12 year old boy, and lets you sleep in when Baby doesn't seem to understand that Mommy HAD to stay up until 3 a.m. desperately trying to defeat the Beastie Boys' "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn." (Special note: ridiculous, in case you had any strange dreams last night, it was because I was silently channeling your Beastie knowledge, as my secret weapon.) And that she's grouchy because those last few chords were just too powerful even for Super Mommy.
Rock on.
He skips the Pajama Gram Valentine's Day gift and instead goes straight for Guitar Hero.
How do you know your husband really loves you?
He gives you Guitar Hero nearly a full week before Valentine's Day, as soon as he brings it home.
How do you know your husband really, really loves you?
He cracks up at your level of GH excitement, refrains (mostly) from making comments about his wife acting like a 12 year old boy, and lets you sleep in when Baby doesn't seem to understand that Mommy HAD to stay up until 3 a.m. desperately trying to defeat the Beastie Boys' "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn." (Special note: ridiculous, in case you had any strange dreams last night, it was because I was silently channeling your Beastie knowledge, as my secret weapon.) And that she's grouchy because those last few chords were just too powerful even for Super Mommy.
Rock on.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
A Week to Remember
This week has felt like a month.
My job often takes to me to fun, interesting and sometimes plain ol' crazy places. But this week may top them all.
Monday was a Creative Coalition cocktail party, where I interviewed Tim Robbins while simultaneously screaming incessantly to myself "Do NOT proclaim 'The Shawshank Redemption' one of the greatest movies of all time." (I did not.) Yes, Susan was there. No, I didn't talk to her. I was too busy trying not to mention "The Shawshank Redemption."
Tuesday was The Day. I started walking from my office in the direction of the Capitol at about 7:45 a.m., looking like the little kid who can't put his arms down in "A Christmas Story" with an Al Franken-like video set-up strapped to my back. I returned at 2 p.m., having been walking almost the entire time. In between, I witnessed a moment in history that many talented journalists have put into words better than I can. Suffice it to say, the sheer volume of patriotism made my heart sing.
Friday, I found myself standing on a runway at Andrews Air Force Base, with the plane that becomes Air Force One off in the distance. I myself was headed up in a fuel tanker to watch jet fighters refuel. Yes, I went to the Danger Zone. And it was awesome.
All in all, it was an exhausting week, a wild week, but most of all, a hopeful week, for so many, including me.
My job often takes to me to fun, interesting and sometimes plain ol' crazy places. But this week may top them all.
Monday was a Creative Coalition cocktail party, where I interviewed Tim Robbins while simultaneously screaming incessantly to myself "Do NOT proclaim 'The Shawshank Redemption' one of the greatest movies of all time." (I did not.) Yes, Susan was there. No, I didn't talk to her. I was too busy trying not to mention "The Shawshank Redemption."
Tuesday was The Day. I started walking from my office in the direction of the Capitol at about 7:45 a.m., looking like the little kid who can't put his arms down in "A Christmas Story" with an Al Franken-like video set-up strapped to my back. I returned at 2 p.m., having been walking almost the entire time. In between, I witnessed a moment in history that many talented journalists have put into words better than I can. Suffice it to say, the sheer volume of patriotism made my heart sing.
Friday, I found myself standing on a runway at Andrews Air Force Base, with the plane that becomes Air Force One off in the distance. I myself was headed up in a fuel tanker to watch jet fighters refuel. Yes, I went to the Danger Zone. And it was awesome.
All in all, it was an exhausting week, a wild week, but most of all, a hopeful week, for so many, including me.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Mommy and Baby's Adventure
When C. went back to work, and I was first home alone with Baby, I started referring to our outings as adventures. Adventures could be anything from a simple trip to Target, or a more complex outing to a new little town on the Maryland's Eastern Shore that we had never experienced before. They were adventures in every sense of the word, definitely for Baby, but maybe just as much for Mommy, too.
Yesterday, Baby and I went on another adventure, both to give C. some peace and quiet and for us to get out, escape the cold and do something different.
Yesterday's big adventure was to Tysons Corner Mall. Laugh if you want, but anything with a 16 month old can be an adventure. You don't even have to try hard to make it so.
Our adventure included such exciting chapters as how to dress Baby on a 13 degree day so that he wouldn't freeze on the hike from the parking lot, but wouldn't be sweating once we got inside. We explored the wilds of Pottery Barn Kids, and all the toys they have in store (enjoy'em here, Baby, because unless we tap into what's left of our 401k's, they're not coming home with us right now). Baby got a chance to amuse his adoring female fans, as they gathered around him in Sephora to ogle his lovely eyelashes (no mention was made of sampling the mascara, but I think there were thoughts of it).
Then there was the venture into Tysons' version of Lord of the Flies: The kids' play area. (More on that in a separate post.) Did I mention that it was 13 degrees yesterday? Lots of cooped up, Inauration-trapped parents apparently had the same brilliant idea as me.
But perhaps the most exciting scene took place when we were just strolling through the mall. A large crowd of people usually hustling along, had all stopped around all sides of a kiosk. As I drew closer, I heard a familiar voice, and suddenly got chills: Everyone had stopped because the kiosk had flat screen monitors, which were all focused in on the words of the President Elect, as he spoke from the back of a 1930's caboose.
It was an adventure I'll remember, not just for a lovely day with my child, but for the words that stopped a crowd to unite for a moment in the hope for the future of our country.
Yesterday, Baby and I went on another adventure, both to give C. some peace and quiet and for us to get out, escape the cold and do something different.
Yesterday's big adventure was to Tysons Corner Mall. Laugh if you want, but anything with a 16 month old can be an adventure. You don't even have to try hard to make it so.
Our adventure included such exciting chapters as how to dress Baby on a 13 degree day so that he wouldn't freeze on the hike from the parking lot, but wouldn't be sweating once we got inside. We explored the wilds of Pottery Barn Kids, and all the toys they have in store (enjoy'em here, Baby, because unless we tap into what's left of our 401k's, they're not coming home with us right now). Baby got a chance to amuse his adoring female fans, as they gathered around him in Sephora to ogle his lovely eyelashes (no mention was made of sampling the mascara, but I think there were thoughts of it).
Then there was the venture into Tysons' version of Lord of the Flies: The kids' play area. (More on that in a separate post.) Did I mention that it was 13 degrees yesterday? Lots of cooped up, Inauration-trapped parents apparently had the same brilliant idea as me.
But perhaps the most exciting scene took place when we were just strolling through the mall. A large crowd of people usually hustling along, had all stopped around all sides of a kiosk. As I drew closer, I heard a familiar voice, and suddenly got chills: Everyone had stopped because the kiosk had flat screen monitors, which were all focused in on the words of the President Elect, as he spoke from the back of a 1930's caboose.
It was an adventure I'll remember, not just for a lovely day with my child, but for the words that stopped a crowd to unite for a moment in the hope for the future of our country.
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