Guilty Pleasures

All of us think we have the great American novel in us and who knows? We each might. I just knew that when I retired I’d be the one, but alas, it takes discipline. While the beautiful paragraphs swirl around in my head I play spider solitaire or some other mindless computer game. I have a bit of a problem in that area. I love those games, especially the ones that involve words. I’ve really been done in now because I can play Scrabble and a game called Qwerty. Look at the top row of your keyboard and there it is, “QWERTY.” I can play these two games against human opponents who obviously have the same addiction. The way I justify this little addiction is by listening to audio books. In my mind, if I’m listening to a novel while I click away at my games I’m not wasting time. Why I even care is another problem. It’s my time. I’m not neglecting anyone. I don’t forget to shower or wash the dishes. I buy the groceries and cook supper. So, why does this innocent activity make me feel guilty? Because I’m programmed to accomplish something on a daily basis and winning another badge in Tumble Bees doesn’t quite hit the mark. Neither does beating a woman in Montana at Scrabble but I get a kick out of it. Is the fact that I enjoy these games justification enough? Maybe yes, maybe no. What if I’m depriving the country of another great story, a novel of epic proportions? That remains to be seen

Skinny Minnie

I always wanted to be skinny and now, through no fault of my own, I am. To anyone struggling with overweight issues, be careful what you wish for. When you're fat, people might comment behind your back or give "subtle" hints about the connection between obesity and healthy living but they rarely come at you with questions like, "How much do you weigh now?" "What are you eating?" I've learned that when you're skinny, people think it's okay to not only ask questions but give advice about how to gain weight. It seems like everyone has the solution but the fact is, just like fat people know they need to eat less, skinny people know they need to eat more. Sounds easy, doesn't it. I used to think skinny people must be perverse about food or have a fast metabolism or work out all the time. Wrong, wrong, wrong. There might be a very serious reason a person is stick thin and that person is struggling as hard to gain as the obese person is to lose.
For me, swallowing is a major challenge. Food hangs in my esophagus and that is like having a clogged drain. I have to wait for it to go on down before I can put something else down the "drain." This makes eating tedious and I usually quit before I've eaten my entire plate of food.
I recently had a procedure where Dr. Suen injected my paralyzed vocal chord with botox. I don't understand the mechanics of it but it has improved my swallowing to a degree. I still wouldn't try to chug anything liquid but I am swallowing water easier and I'm able to eat a little faster. Right now I'm enjoying my daily concoction of Boost, a banana, vanilla ice cream, and soy protein blended in my Magic Bullet blender. That little blender has been a lifeline for me and I have to give credit to my sister for giving it to me. It's helped me through some tough times and I recommend it to anyone who has special eating needs.

Mothers

My Mom was and is a fulltime MOM. She’ll be 90 next month but no one doubts who is in charge. We said our Mom didn’t work. That was a lie. She worked 24/7. Moms don’t get vacations and they don’t get sick. My Mom actually told me once that maybe if she’d worked she would have contributed more to us and to herself. I was stunned. How could she have contributed more? I was quick to point out a few of her accomplishments. She’s been married to the same man for 68 years. She raised five children. No one is dead and no one is in jail. All five of us are college educated. Four of the five work or worked in the education field. One is a nurse; enough said. Cumulatively we have 8 college degrees. Two of us are comfortably retired from long careers in public education and nursing. One is a college professor, celebrated artist, and published author. One teaches 7^th grade and that deserves an automatic pass to heaven. The baby is the state director of transportation for the Arkansas state department of education. How much more could she contribute?

I’m a baby boomer who knew my limits. I didn’t have children because I wasn’t willing to make that kind of commitment. It was all I could do to keep on top of things without that pressure. I was told I’d regret my child free status but I’m 57 and it hasn’t happened yet. My generation sold motherhood short. Remember, this is my opinion. We were all out there scrambling to live a fulfilled life.

I’ve observed my brothers and sister raise their children. I’m the only one out of five who didn’t reproduce. Like I said earlier, that was my choice. I lack that maternal gene that’s necessary to parent effectively. When I babysat my siblings’ children it wasn’t unusual for my young charges to remind me that they needed to be fed periodically. And forget dealing with car seats. I never did get the hang of those things. When I couldn’t fasten the strap on my great niece’s seat I told her she’d be okay because we were only going a little way. She whined to me, “But Aunt Barbie I’m not safe!” On the other hand I have a choking phobia. I was always sure I’d kill one by letting them eat hard candy or hot dogs. It’s become a family joke that Aunt Barbie will cut your hot dog into miniscule pieces even if you’re 40.

Culturally we’ve boxed ourselves in. It takes two incomes, if not more, for us to maintain a decent lifestyle. We all require two of everything; two cars, two salaries. And we wonder why the divorce rate is so high in America? Just think about it. Most households today consist of one adult and two or more children. The adult is usually, but not necessarily, the mother. She is overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated. This isn’t headline news. We’ve known it for years.

I’m glad a growing number of young women are making different choices. The good thing is there is a choice now. My generation felt compelled to compete in the job market. We needed to prove we could succeed with the hunters and gatherers. We proved it but at what price? This new generation of women makes no excuses for staying home and doing the hard, dirty work of maintaining a family and home. Maybe we gave them that choice. I hope so. One young woman told me, “I was raised in daycare. My kids won’t be.” That says it all. These young women see motherhood for what it is; the hardest job on the planet. For me it was easier to leave the house everyday, put in my time and energy, and leave it behind after my eight hours. Homemaking doesn’t allow for preparation periods or coffee breaks.

Many women try to have it all. Some are even good at it. Others look like they’ve been in the spin cycle of the washing machine. I guess it’s about choosing your battles. We hear that all the time. You might have to trade off folding laundry to attend a softball game. The beds go unmade to make time for breakfast. I’ve seen it work but never without sacrifice. Of course, that’s just a part of parenting whether you work outside the home or not. It’s not a part time job.

I have so much respect for mothers. They are required to be all things to all family members. They must be lover and companion to their husbands. They are alternately dictators or choice givers to their children. They listen and encourage and love unconditionally. Many run companies, teach the children of others, care for the sick, or stand on concrete for hours dealing with customer related issues. Then they go home and cook, clean, do homework, attend school functions, mend broken hearts, and listen to children and spouse, if they have one. Mothers are the real heroes.

Wonderful Women

The women of the World War II generation are astounding. They don't stop till they drop. I know I'm generalizing but their positive attitudes and stamina are more the exception than the rule. We boomer girls could take a lesson. While we whine about depression and aching joints our octogenarian predecessors are boarding buses for trips all over the country. These tours are mostly ladies because many of them have buried at least one husband.

I witness this phenomenon regularly because I volunteer at Garvan Woodland Gardens, a botanical garden here in Hot Springs. Tuesday I went in for an extra shift because a busload of seniors from Texas were coming to the garden. There were 82 people in all and I'd wager that was the average age. Three docents were required because many of them were able to walk the 1.3 mile trail. Walking tours are usually no more than 20 to a group. Using those figures I can make a guess that approximately 60 walked and 22 rode golf carts.

The riders come out with canes and walkers and some are slower than Christmas but they are having fun. Boarding a golf cart is a challenge for some but they laugh at themselves as they pull on the cart roof or steering wheel or me until they are in. I've learned to warn of bumps and slight hills so those on the back don't bounce too hard or roll off. I almost lost a lady one time because she was leaning too far out, waving at everyone we passed.

They all have a story and they share with little encouragement. Flowers, trees, and smells spark memories and I enjoy the stories that inevitably follow. This is great for me because my voice is soft and many of them are hard of hearing. I drive and they talk. They teach and I learn.

Padded Underpants

I just rejoined the world of high speed internet. A couple of years using dial up takes its toll on a girl. I adjusted to the snail's pace of dial up because I had no other choice. DSL wasn't available in my area. I've spent the afternoon clicking on this and that just to see the page fly to the screen.

I've had the most fun looking up padded underpants. I've lost so much weight my butt is completely flat and my pants droop down the backs of my thighs. I used to wish for such a problem but reality isn't so hot. Kelly Rippa wore a pair of padded underpants on the Regis and Kelly show and I laughed for 10 minutes. It seems crazy but think about it. If we wear padded bras what's so strange about padded underpants?

When I googled the words "padded underpants" I was surprised to see how many hits I got. And it wasn't just underpants. You can buy padded anything! Ever wonder how the cyclists sit on those tiny seats? Padded underpants! How does a cross dresser get such a nice shape in an evening gown? Yep - padded underpants. I'm not done looking at all the choices but I plan to buy myself a pair. Heck, I might just buy a pair for my mom and my sister.

Happy Birthday, Mikey!

47 years ago today my mom gave me the coolest present; a baby brother! I was in Mrs. Meyer's 4th grade class at Maplewood elementary school. Mom and Dad named him Michael but I chopped that off to "Mikey" in a flash. The timing was perfect for me but I think it must have sucked for Mom and Dad. Buddy was in college, Neanne was in nurse's training, I was 10, David was 6, and Dad was being transferred to a place called Arkansas. Oh yeah, and my parents were 42 years old. That's not such a big deal now but it sure was in 1960.
Our family was friends with a family who had a daughter with Down's Syndrome and I think Mom was worried that Mike would be affected with this form of mental retardation. There wasn't a test to check for it so we rode it out, excited and worried and full of hope. Mom tried to prepare us for what could be ahead but I was just excited about getting a baby.
The day Mikey was born the Good Year blimp landed in the airfield behind our house. What an omen! Our baby was perfect! Mrs. Meyers let me stand up in class and tell all about him.
I don't remember all the particulars now but I really did love that baby. I probably made a pest of myself, trying to help out and feeling grown up.
Of course, Buddy and Neanne's friends were at the house all the time, passing Mike around and acting silly over him. Mike has been a people person from day one but who's to say if it's his personality or a defense mechanism he learned as an infant. Whichever, it works. He has a ready laugh and an easy manner. That's not to say he's a pushover. Far from it. He's the caboose on a highly opinionated and motivated freight train of siblings and if he hadn't had the strength to hold on he might have been left behind. After all, 20 years separates the oldest from the youngest.
I don't know when he went from a tow headed baby in a striped life jacket to the man who manages transportation for the Arkansas Department of Education. Growing up, he entertained me more than any of my toys. I was always terrified that something horrible would happen to him. The day he turned 16 I cried when he drove out of the driveway, convinced I'd seen the last of him. I was 26! Mom told me to get a grip. She'd live through it 5 times already.
And, as usual, Mom was right. Here we all are, able to fight another day.

Have phone will travel

I resent being subjected to private phone conversations in public places. I know I'm not alone in my opinion. Cell phones are an incredible convenience and I love mine as much as the next guy but I try not to let it dominate my life. If my phone rings when I'm at Kroger I ignore it. When I get outside I'll check the caller ID and, depending on who called, I'll return the call when I'm not in a public place. Remember when you didn't know you'd had a phone call until you got home? Remember a time before answering machines when you didn't know you'd had a call while you were out until that person called back? I don't want to make a shift backwards, I just want some sort of cell phone protocol or etiquette to be established.
I have heard the stupidest and most meaningless conversations in Wal-Mart. If you want to visit, bring your friend to the store with you. Don't stand in the check-out line discussing the results of your colonoscopy with a person invisible to the rest of us.
The rudest behavior is exhibited by those who wear those blue tooth things in their ears. They walk the aisles, their hands free, shopping and talking. Until you see the little blue light blinking in their ear you think they're lunatics or schizophrenics, listening to the voices in their heads. What can't wait until you're in your car or outside? If your colonscopy shows signs of disease, I'm sorry. I can be sympathetic but I don't want to hear the gory details or the fear in your voice. I have plenty of that without worrying about you. If the call alerts you of an emergency, hang up and go. You probably don't have time to finish your errands anyway.
As the technology has developed most of us have agreed on certain places where cell phone use is prohibited. We turn our phones off in church services, movie theaters, and business meetings. My county library doesn't allow phone conversations inside but it's more the exception than the rule. It shouldn't even be up for discussion but it's a hot topic in the library world. You wouldn't think of having a loud conversation with an individual so what makes a phone conversation okay? After I had retired from my post as a branch library manager in another county, two men threatened one another with guns over a cell phone conversation. The men were sitting side by side at the public computers when one of them got a call. The one man asked the phone talker to hang up or take it outside and the fight was on. The library staff had to call 911 because the men left the building shouting at one another and making violent threats. The police came and the report was made but the men weren't found. I didn't read anywhere about a library shoot out but they could have taken the fight somewhere else. This example of "phone rage" might be extreme but it's real.
The solution is simple really. Use some common sense and be courteous. You aren't invisible or sound free so don't act like you're the only human on the planet. Regardless of the commercials, none of us are so important that we require constant connection to our "networks."