RWW: An Lesson in Patience

Now that school is back in session, Red Wine Wednesdays are technically over. That is of course, until this week.  This week, spontaneous mid-week wine time crept its way into my Wednesday evening. Just like that the word "over" is replaced by the word "irregular," and the sentence becomes, "Now that school is back in session, Red Wine Wednesdays are technically irregular. The circumstances leading up to the popping of a mid week cork are common, and experienced by many of the moms (and sometimes dads) out there 'living the dream" like me on a daily basis.  We are always on the go. Constantly moving; making lunches, loading up the van, taking the kids to school, going to work, picking up the kids, squeezing tushies into tights, breaking up fights, helping with homework, cooking dinner, fixing booboos, cleaning up messes, reading bedtime stories, and the list goes on and on. Just to be clear, I'm not looking for any sympathy here. I embrace all of these things (and many more) as part of the crazy ride called 'parenthood.' My point is just that once in a while, for me, it's nice to have a glass of grown up grape juice to unwind. This week I got what I asked for and then some.

Red Wine Wednesday #7: DeLille Cellars D2

I received this wine as a gift from a friend a while ago.  The wine, just like the friend, is from the state of Washington. D2 is the classiest wine to grace the entries of this blog and the most complex wine I have ever tasted. The complexity of this wine begins upon first sip, as the flavors are bold and abundant. Citrus, berry, and cinnamon are the most prominent for me, but I'm certain there are others in there too. As I began to swallow the strangest thing happened...I couldn't. The wine refused to leave my mouth.  I literally had to wait and take a breath before I could finish the swallow. Second sip...same deal. I paused for a moment, took a deep cleansing breath and thought deeply about the metaphor that just landed in my mouth.  Life is glass of classy wine.  Despite the speed with which we'd like to proceed in living life or drinking wine, in order to really enjoy the complexity in each experience, we must be patient. In the words of the great Roger Clyne, "Here's to life!"

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Who Are You?

Who are you? Such a simple question at first. Who are you (read: what is your name?)? I am [insert name here]. See...simple. When we step away from the finite answer of a name, however, and allow this question some room to expand, things get interesting quite quickly.  Suddenly we have an existential question with depth to last for days.  Who are you? I am curious about how often people ask themselves this question and even more curious about how they answer it. One way to answer this question is to rely on the roles we play in life. I find it fascinating that the first role each of us plays in life, the role of a child, relies entirely upon the decisions of two strangers.  Our parents either planned to create us, or chose not to abort us and so now we exist. For each of us, being born is easiest part of determining who we are. We literally had no choice.

From birth on, however, things aren't so easy.  As we head through life we are exposed to more and more of 'the world' and we are faced with a great many choices. We live, we learn, we discover, we grow and somewhere along the way we gradually determine who we are. Our nature, our tendencies and our preferences all rise to the surface and we become identifiable. Identification is fascinating to me because it relies so heavily on definition.  I've long been a member of the "it is what it is, regardless of what you call it" camp, but then again, if you have no name by which to identify something, how do you know what it is? In my mind, the concept of definitions is dichotomous. On one hand, definitions are a relief because they provide order and reason (i.e. A law defines acceptable behavior within a society, a diagnosis defines a medical condition,etc.).  On the other hand, when definitions are applied to people, I find they become cumbersome. As I think about the process of determining identity a few questions come to mind:

How many times must a person perform an action in order to be considered a member of a certain community? If I go snowboarding once does that automatically mean I'm snowboarder? What if I go twice? A dozen times?

How does proficiency impact membership in a community? Do you have to be good at something to truly belong?

What role does reason play in action based definition? Is there a difference between stealing food to feed your starving family and stealing a CD just because you want it?  

What is the impact of enjoyment on identification within a community? If I no longer enjoy playing the drums, but I continue to play them, am I not still a drummer?

Is there a statute of limitations on action based definition? How far into the future should your actions follow and define you?


I don't have concrete answers to any of these questions, but I do feel that the definition of one's "self" is infinite. Over the course of the lifetime we are many things to many people, and our impact is always greater than we realize. We fill our days, months and years with many different experiences and if we're lucky we learn something from most of them. We love, we hate, we laugh, we cry, we help, we hurt, and we age. We all live one day at a time as we head towards whatever we believe will meet us at the end of this life. I for one, chose to live a thoughtful life filled with personal reflection. I live this way in the hopes that my end will come with a peaceful sense of clarity as I look back and answer, with great depth and detail, one final question....."Who were you?"

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Take This Club and Shove It

On Monday it was announced that, for the first time ever, two women were invited to join the exclusive all male golf club known as Augusta National.

Located in the state of Georgia, Augusta National is a private golf club that was opened for rich white dudes in 1933. In 1990 they decided to break up the 'vanilla sausage fest' by allowing black male members into the club. Despite pressure from woman's advocacy groups in the early 2000s, Augusta National maintained it's all male status until....two days ago.  "Hooraay! Hooray!" said someone who is not me. Pardon my lack of enthusiasm, but I find this long overdue membership extension neither exciting nor inspiring. Congratulations Augusta National, 2 out of your 300 members have vaginas. That's a whopping .67 % of your total membership. How progressive!

The thing that irritates me the most about Augusta National is not its historical policy of exclusion, but rather its dichotomous position in the public/private debate.  To me a private club, like Augusta, should be allowed to include or exclude whomever it wants as long as no laws are broken.  I value the idea of privacy as a right. The problem for me is that Augusta National is a so called "private" club that hosts a very public (and very popular) golf tournament called The Masters. The Masters tournament is sponsored by publicly traded companies which make money by selling products to the entire population in a public marketplace. By hosting The Masters, Augusta National made a choice to step into the public arena, and as such, should have forfeited its right to exclusion on the basis of privacy a long time ago.


So, congratulations to Condi Rice and Darla Moore on your token acceptance to the all boys club. I wish you the best as you play golf and hang with the fellas.  Let me know when they get the tampon machine installed in the ladies room. Oh wait.....there is no ladies room!

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It's Too Early for A-holes!

This morning I went to Walmart (save your judgement) bright and early to do the family grocery shopping and pick up a few last minute back to school supplies. I'm not really a coupon shopper, primarily because I always forget the coupons I do cut out at home, but today is different. Today I have a coupon for 1.00 off 2 boxes of Pop Tarts Mini Crisps. I must take a time out here to tell you that even if you don't like Pop Tarts, you really should try the Mini Crisps.  They come in 100 calorie packs and they're a great little mid day snack.  Plus, the kids love them. Anyway, as I approach the checkout counter and greet the lady working it, she asks me if I have any 'price matching.' I tell her, "No, but I do have this 1.00 off coupon (hand her the coupon) that I'm excited to use." We proceed to exchange a short dialogue about forgetting coupons. I can tell that she's tired, probably at the end of her shift. As I continue loading my stuff on the checkout conveyer, a man with no merchandise in his hands comes up in line behind me. I assume he is there to buy cigarettes, and my assumption is correct.  If the checker wasn't already midway through ringing my order up, I would have let him go in front of me. I know how much it sucks to be in line for one or two items when the person in front of you has a cart full. Letting him cut me is not an option, so instead I offer some peace via a friendly greeting. I say, "Oh man, you picked the wrong line. I'm Sorry." He says nothing in return and gives neither a smile nor a nod.

The lady in blue finishes ringing me up and I pay for my order.  As soon as I do she says, "Oh shoot! I forgot to use your coupon.  Hang on, let me get you a dollar.  Unless you want to just use it for next time?" I tell her it is my preference to use it now and she proceeds to call for a manager. I forgive her mistake and I stand there waiting patiently as she calls for backup. Being the considerate human that I am, I ask her if she can ring the cigarette man up while we wait.  She says she can't, unless he has cash, which he doesn't.   Now comes the fun part. As we wait for the front end manager to come rescue us, the following dialogue transpires:

GUY: All this is over a dollar? I'll pay the dollar.

ME:  I'll take your dollar.  You got cash?

GUY: No.

ME: You don't have to be a jerk about it.

GUY: I'm not being a jerk.

ME:  Yeah. [nods] You are.

GUY: [long pause] (angrily) Well, you don't have to tell me how I'm being.

ME: (calmly) That's fine.

GUY: (angrily) Yeah it is fine!

ME: (calmly) You're right. It is.

The point of this story could be simple...don't be an a-hole.  This is certainly an appropriate point.  Treat people kindly and leave room for patience in response to small mistakes. After thinking about it some more though, this situation becomes amusing to me.  I ask myself, "Why would this man travel all the way to a 184,000 square foot retail store to buy a single pack of cigarettes when he probably passed about 3 gas stations on the way here?" The answer is, "Because the cigarettes, like most things are cheaper here." So now he stands there resenting me for wanting to do the exact something thing he wants to do - save a little money. Oh sweet irony...

Enjoy your cigarettes pal, have fun turning your lungs as black as your soul!

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RWW: Twofer and a Bonus Edition

This is a Red Wine Wednesday catch up blog. Where I once fell days behind in posting these RWW entries, it seems the days have slipped into weeks.  No worries my friends, a few short paragraphs from now we'll be all caught up. Let's do this...

Red Wine Wednesday #4: Cupcake Vineyards Red Velvet

This week we tried a wine recommended to me by a co-worker.  Fortunately for her sake I don't judge my co-workers by their choice in wine. The single word that best describes this wine for me is 'incomplete.' It wasn't terrible, but it really did nothing for me. My favorite thing about this wine was the label.  I really enjoy the choice of font and the use of primary colors. When we tried this wine 3 long weeks ago I wrote a list of reactionary words during my first glass. I have since misplaced said list, but I can assure you none of the words would be appropriate to be include in a glowing review.

Red Wine Wednesday #5: Guenoc Lillie's Merlot
 
 This week we tried a wine that my friend's mom purchased at BevMo's 5 cent (buy 1 bottle, get the 2nd for 5 cents) wine sale.  It's funny because I almost bought this wine myself two days earlier when I spent an abnormally long time trying to decide which new wines to buy during the BevMo sale. The sale is tricky, you see. If you end up liking the wine you choose, the 5 cent sale is awesome because you essentially get 2 great bottles of wine for the price of one. On the other hand, if you end up not liking the wine you choose, then you're stuck with an extra bottle of some shitty wine you never want to drink again.  I guess at that point you just tell yourself, "Suck it up cheapskate, you're only out a nickel!" At any rate, I did not choose this wine and after tasting it with my friend this week, I am very glad I didn't.  It was terrible.  Price wise it was the most expensive wine we've tried so far, but taste wise it was the worst we've tried. I wish I could come up with fancy pants words to articulate precisely what I wish to convey, but alas the only word that comes to me with ease is "gross."  I would only recommend this wine to someone who was in training for a competition in which the contestants had to keep a straight face despite the presence of an offensive external stimulus. If you can drink a glass of this stuff without contorting your face in any manner you would certainly be a champ!


Red Wine Wednesday Tuesday Bonus: Stanza Pinot Noir

As I mentioned earlier, I went to BevMo this week for the 5 cent wine sale.  After reading the labels of numerous bottles, I was eventually able to decide on 3 new wines. The first one was Stanza Pinot Noir.  Simply put, this wine was fantastic.  Smokey and smooth with great character and depth. Classy and sophisticated. The fact that this wine was consumed over dinner on a Tuesday night renders it ineligible for the Red Wine Wednesday rankings, however if it was eligible for the rankings it would certainly be my number one. The only drawback I must note is that the aroma of this wine was not exactly delicate on the nose. I will not elaborate so as not to deter you from trying this otherwise enjoyable wine.

Well there you have it...all caught up!
Here are the RWW Rankings at this point in time:

1. Night Harvest Cabernet Sauvignon
2. Snapping Turtle Merlot
3. Cellar No. 8 Cabernet Sauvignon
4. Cupcake Red Velvet
5. Guenoc Lillie's Merlot

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RWW: The Relativity of Value

This week's Red Wine Wednesday provided a lesson in the relativity of value.  All things have value and all value is relative. I am open to the possibility that there are certain things in life that have an absolute value that is neither variable nor relative, but I'm not sure what those things would be.  Certainly not anything related to emotion. The concept of relative value is a personal favorite of mine, probably because it relies so heavily on one of my other favorite human concepts; perspective.  The way I see it, relativity of value is a five phase cycle being played out on an infinite loop. Phase 1: Know Nothing. Phase 2: Experience Something.  Phase 3: Process the Experience and Determine Value. Phase 4: Discover Something Else. Phase 5: Process New Experience and Adjust Value. Regardless of our level of awareness, this process is happening in all of us all of the time.  It is the heart of life. 

Red Wine Wednesday #3: Night Harvest Cabernet Sauvignon

This weeks activity was a play date and craft session at my friend's house.  For the kids the craft was decorating visors with stickers and glitter glue. For the grown ups, my friend found a neato project of making coasters out of wine corks.  Pretty much the only things you need are some wine corks, a hot glue gun and some ribbon.  It was really easy and fun! Here is my finished product:

 I'm sorry to say that this week the streak of near flawless behavior from my girls came to an end.  We  had a few meltdowns over sharing glitter glue, then some really dramatic animal phobia reactions, all wrapped up together in a general package of sassy-ness. Better luck next week.

As for the wine...

My friend chose a seven dollar bottle of Night Harvest Cabernet Sauvignon and it was lovely. After our first few sips we had a very quick lesson in the relativity of value.  While we didn't originally find the week 1 and week 2 wines to be bad wines, after tasting this wine we agreed that the week 1 and week 2 wines wouldn't be worth purchasing again.  Our favorite wine so far, it will definitely be purchased again by both of us.  Fruitier and smoother than the previous weeks' selections, we both enjoyed it very much. Never thought I'd say it but hooray for Cabernet!

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RWW: Cellar No. 8 Cabernet Sauvignon

This blog 4 days late.  Mediocre things come to those who wait, so here we go...

For this week's Red Wine Wednesday it was my turn to chose the wine. Seeing as my friend unselfishly selected my favorite type of wine last week (Merlot), I decided to reciprocate and chose her favorite type this week. As you already know from the title of this entry, her favorite type is Cabernet Sauvignon. If my memory serves me correctly, the first (non Boones Farm) wine I tried was a Cabernet Sauvignon.  I was living in an apartment with two girl friends at the time and we made some kind of fancy dinner and bought a couple of bottles wine to drink along with it. I figured out quickly and definitively that I wasn't a "white" girl. As for the red, I enjoyed it not so much for the taste but for what it stood for and how it made me feel. I was a naive, inexperienced kid fumbling my way through my early 20s a semester way from graduating, but put a glass of red wine in my hand and...BAM!  I'm a well educated, sophisticated, cultured lady.  A philosopher. A theologian. A grown up. I must confess, that even as a 30 something, drinking wine still makes me feel classy.

Choosing wine can be a very complex process because there are many factors to consider when doing so. If you prefer to disregard the particulars, however, choosing a wine becomes very simple. Which label catches my eye and draws me in? When you have a moderate regard for the particulars (like me) but take your kids with you to the store (also like me) then choosing a wine becomes next to impossible.  You will stand there in the aisle scanning the rows of bottles going back and forth between several wines all the while listening to the background noise of your children alternating between bickering with each other and asking you for toys. You do your best to ignore them, but then you feel bad because you're paying more attention to booze than your babies.  Then you remember that if you didn't have them, you probably wouldn't require the wine you're trying to select and so you don't feel so bad anymore. Scanning, reading, scanning, reading....and.....Cellar No. 8 it is! Cellar No. 8 caught my eye because 8 happens to be my favorite number.  It has been since I was a kid and no other number can hold a candle to it it my mind. It's even, and round, and symmetrical.  Plus if you turn eight sideways, it becomes infinity and infinity is awesome.

 Red Wine Wednesday #2: Cellar No. 8 Cabernet Sauvignon

For the activity this week, we chose an indoor play date at our house, complete with a jumbo poster board painting session. The ambition to take the kids somewhere new each week quickly melts away when the temperature reaches 100+. For the second week in a row, the kids played together fantastically.  They cleaned their plates at lunch, played freeze dance, "kill the bad guy season 2," and various other imaginative games.

As for the wine...

Cellar No. 8 Cabernet Sauvignon can be purchased at Target for 8.99 a bottle. The challenge for me in tasting this wine was trying to ignore that fact that Cab Sauvs aren't my favorite.  I don't despise them by any means, but I just don't like 'em the most. It's like eating regular Cheerios when you prefer Honey Nut. You'll still eat and enjoy the classic Cherrios, but you won't have that little extra honey nuttiness to round out the corners of the experience. I popped the cork (albeit much slower than my friend because I don't have the magic rabbit wine tool) and poured.  Clinky, clinky, "Cheers!" First sip and...alright.  Smooth and spicy with decent balance. Good wine at a great price.

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Red Wine Wednesdays

This summer I decided to take Wednesdays off to spend some time with the kids.  Each year seems to pass faster than the last, and before I know it (to be cliche) they'll be 'all grown up.' I figure I'll never get this summer back, so I might as well make the best of it.  Coincidentally, one of my good friends, who has a kid the around the same age as my girls, also recently cleared up her schedule on Wednesdays. When talking over our plans for the summer we agreed that we should hang out together more often and soon after we came up with the idea of "Red Wine Wednesdays." Essentially this is what happens on Red Wine Wednesdays (RWW):

Step 1: Take the kids somewhere to do something fun.
Step 2: Come back to her/my house and drink wine.

There are many benefits to the RWW program.. First, we get to spend time with the kids and feel like productive moms.  Second, the kids get to spend time with each other and expand socially.  Third, my friend and I get to explore new wines and engage in meaningful conversation. Its really a win-win.

As far as selecting the wine goes, there are two guidelines; It must be red.  It should cost at least 8 bucks a bottle. Now that you know the way it works, here is the first weeks review...

Red Wine Wednesday #1: Snapping Turtle Merlot

For our first Wednesday we decided to take the kids to Pecos Park for water play. Soon enough it will be too hot to be outside no matter how much water is involved, so this was the perfect activity for a late May day.  As we arrived at the park neither my friend nor I seemed to notice that none of the kids were playing in the water.  We walked up to the 'start button' and pressed it about ten times before someone hollered from afar, "It doesn't work.  They're gonna try to fix it by this weekend." I suggested we start a riot.  My friend suggested we go back to her house and spray the kids with the hose.  Better judgement prevailed and we headed to her place.  It's really a crap shoot when the number of kids is odd, but this week they got a long really well, which was refreshing. 

As for the wine...

The selection for week 1 was Snapping Turtle Merlot. As she popped the cork and began to pour, my friend owned up to the fact that she didn't follow the '8 bucks and up' guideline.  This particular bottle only set her back a 5 spot.  My mouth said, "It's cool," but I must confess that a small part of my brain was thinking pessimistic thoughts. First sip, and....."Not bad."  Nothing about this wine stood out as particularly fantastic, but at the same time nothing stood out as particularly awful.  It was completely pallet-able with an absence of remark-ability.  Sometimes in life it's okay to ride the current of mediocrity and that is precisely what this wine does. The conversation that went with the wine, however, was extraordinary.

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A Life Cut Short

This blog was supposed to be about my personal mission statement from 10+ years ago.  I was supposed compare and contrast the feelings and views I have now with the things I wrote down and committed to over a decade ago. I was planning to write that blog tonight, but as it happens, life sometimes throws curve balls. All at once the most relevant topic can be thrust upon us, regardless of our ability to bear the weight of its burden. Fortunately for me, the burden of this topic is not so large that it will intimately and permanently affect my life. Unfortunately in this case, I cannot say the same for all to whom this curve ball was thrown.

Last week my neighbor died. He suffered an allergic reaction to a common over the counter medication and he died. His ability to breathe was taken and kept forever by an effervescent tablet in a half a glass of water. He was 38 years old and in otherwise good health. He left behind a wife and three daughters; the epitome of tragedy. I learned the news from his 13 year old daughter two days after his passing and my body still freezes when I replay the memory in my head. On Monday afternoon, she was hovering around my drive way and as I pulled up with my window down she said she had something to tell me.  "Sure hon, lemme just pull in the garage." I turned off the radio then engine, and hopped out expecting her to tell me about a new boyfriend or some other random junior high school drama. Instead she informed me that her father had passed away. I stood there in shock for a moment (mouth hanging open, eyebrows in a frown) then snapped out of it and instinctively wrapped my arms around her.  She told me the details of the story with amazing composure, and in return I did my best impersonation of a grown up and assured her that everything was going to be okay. Later that evening the girl rang the doorbell and let us know the funeral would be on Friday. I told her the truth this time and said I would be there.

Friday came and I went to the funeral as I said I would. Much to my surprise, our 7 year old daughter wanted to come with me. I explained what the funeral would be like and asked if she was sure she wanted to go.  She said she was sure because she never went to a funeral before and she was curious about what it's like. I decided that the experience would be good for her in the long run even if it upset her a little bit in the short run. After all, death is the only certainty in life.

We arrived at the funeral home 15 minutes early and the parking lot was packed.  Every single space was taken.  As I drove laps around the building trying to find a non existent empty space, it was impossible to ignore the growing crowd of gatherers.  Figuring that the odds of getting a parking ticket at a funeral are pretty slim, I parallel parked in a drive way area that was not intended for such a purpose.

"Okay kiddo.  You ready for this?"

"Uh huh."

"If you get too upset and you want to leave, just let me know and we can go."

"Okay mommy."

We held hands, crossed the parking lot and headed into the chapel. Weaving in and out of my neighbors friends and family we found a seat on the end of a pew about mid way through the room. The rest of our pew and all of the others in the chapel filled up quickly, and before long it was standing room only. The ceremony was nice.  It was a full Catholic mass given by a Deacon who was very down to earth in the delivery of his message.  Keira sat still through most of it which came as a surprise. Neither she nor I cried, and halfway through the mass, this fact began to bother me.  Why didn't I cry? Could I cry if I wanted to? Sure I could, right? Right? For the remainder of the mass, my answer was 'no.'  Then came the 'post mass personal remarks,'  and just like that, my ocular flood gates were open and the question became, "How do I stop crying?"  One by one my neighbors family and friends came to the microphone to share their grief.  Some could only say two words, while others told lengthy anecdotes. The best friend who broke the news to my neighbor's parents, the brother who didn't spend enough time with him, the sister whose spirits were constantly lifted by him, the daughters who will never dance with him; for all of them I shed a tear.

Between the 6th and 7th speaker Keira was getting bored and antsy so we decided to go.  On the way out (as we made our way through the overflow crowd in the lobby) we stopped at the guestbook to leave a future reminder of our support. There was a single pen on the table and a memory book that was filled with names.  All of the lines on the present page were taken, so I flipped forward a few pages to try to find an empty page. Flip...full.  Flip...full. Flip...full. I flipped backwards hoping someone may have skipped a line.  Flip...full. Flip...full.  Flip...full. As a last resort I decided I would just write our names in the margin.  I grabbed the pen and began to write, only to find that the ink inside had run out. I smiled, put the pen back down and glanced once more at the various faces around the overcrowded chapel.  Is there no greater testament to the impact of a life then an absence of empty lines and pen that has run out if ink?

As we pushed through the double doors and headed back to the car, I wished I knew my neighbor better.

Rest in Peace Andres Hidalgo
1973-2012
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From the Vault: 2001 Personal Mission Statement

When I was in college over a decade ago (gag, nearly vomit, gag) I took a class in which we had to create a personal mission statement. The the purpose of the assignment was to get us to commit to concrete goals and objectives from which to base our lives.  Here is my "2001 Personal Mission Statement" in its entirety:

My core purpose in life is to build a pleasant living environment for myself and others through positive interaction whenever possible.


I will keep things in perspective and understand that everything is relative.  Often times the things that cause the most stress in life become insignificant when the big picture is brought into focus.


I will never stop laughing.  In my life humor is directly related to my happiness.  I will always try to find humor in even the worst situations, for a life without laughter is hardly worth living at all.

I will take responsibility for my actions.  I will not blame others for my shortcomings or mistakes.  Before looking for an outside explanation for sub-optimal performance I will first thoroughly examine myself.

I will never be jealous of others, as jealousy is the most insecure emotion.  I will be secure with myself and confident in my abilities as a capable individual.


I will understand and respect diversity in people.  I know that everyone will not always see things the same way I do, and I will accept these differences as part of life.


I will not complain when things become difficult for me.  I know that no matter what the circumstances of my situation, somewhere along the line I always had a choice.


I will not waste my time wondering about what could have been.  I will accept the outcome of my past decisions and take comfort in knowing that when I made the decision, the path I chose felt right at the time.


I will remain active in athletics.  Whether it be in an organized league or messing around with some friends, sports provide me with the exercise and social activity needed to maintain a balanced life.


I will keep an open mind when dealing with people or ideas unfamiliar to me. Ignorance is not really bliss, but rather a precursor of intellectual retardation.


I will never stop learning. I will continue to expand my knowledge and intellect by listening to, and learning from the experience of others.


I will never stop teaching.  Just as I will learn from others, I will share with them my own experiences in the hopes that the learning may be reciprocal.


I will get married and together with my husband build a stable ans secure base from which to build a family.


I will have children and shower them with love and affection I will teach them things like humility, integrity, and personal responsibility.  I will give them guidance, but I will not use them as a tool through which to correct my own failures.

I will...

Over the next few blogs I plan to take apart my 2001 mission statement and analyze my progress in 'sticking to it.' I'm excited to see how 10 years of experiences has impacted my thoughts on each of these points.  Stay tuned...

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Playlists and Purpose

Ahhh, playlists....where do I begin? I love playlists because they are made of one of my favorite things in the world - music!  I love music.  I don't mean that I love every kind of music, but I love the general idea of music.  In the book of life, the chapter called "Music" is the amazing place where people induce feelings and share ideas through a combination of melody and lyrics. Sad songs, happy songs, dance songs, songs to pump up the crowd, songs to honor our country. I think its pretty safe to say there is at least one song out there for anything and everything you could possible imagine.  Just for fun, here are a few from my personal collection:


Song to 'Drink Wine and Reflect' to: Orange Sky by Alexi Murdoch

Song to 'Day Dream About Possibilities' to: For Me This is Heaven by Jimmy Eat World

Song to 'Stroll in the Park' to: Modern Nature by Sondre Lerche

Song to 'Dance Like a Maniac/Sing into a Hairbrush' to: Gonna Get Over You by Sara Bareilles

Song to 'Take Over the World' to: Spectrum by Florence and the Machine
 

Songs by themselves are cool, but songs added to other songs to make a playlist are better. The songs in a playlist help to create the mood and flow to the party or gathering during which they are played. On more than one occasion, I've spent an excessive amount of time creating a 'perfect playlist' for an upcoming event. The perfect playlist usually consists of 3 elements; current hits, classic hits, and a sprinkled in theme that I chose based on the type of gathering and the demographic of the attendees. For example, if the parents are coming over for a weekend BBQ, the sprinkle theme is 50s and 60s pop music. For kickball game nights, the sprinkle theme is 90s nostalgic rap. After I have selected all of the songs for my playlist I spend more time then I'm willing to admit re-arranging the songs to establish an appropriate playlist 'flow.'

While I do spend quite a bit of time making multi-hour playlists for parties and big events, I also like to create quick 30-45 minute playlists for daily activities like working out or cleaning the house. These playlists don't require too much thought, just a quick scroll through my iTunes library as I impulsively drag over whatever jumps out and grabs me.

Somebody who is married to me that shall remain nameless does not share my passion for 'the play list.' He says, "Life doesn't need a soundtrack." I say, "It may not need a soundtrack, but sure is better with a soundtrack." Ultimately, music enhances purpose. I can think of no funner (not a word) example of music played with a purpose than the late 1989 standoff between American troops and General Manuel Noriega.  The specifics of Noriega's life aren't important for purpose of this blog. You only need to know that he was a bad dude. A drug dealing gangster who stole elections, exiled enemies and oppressed his own people. He was on the US shit list for quite some time, and as the situation escalated in December of 1989, twenty four thousand American troops were sent into Panama to go after the a-hole. Realizing his back was against the wall, he turned to religion.  Well, by "turned to religion" I mean he ran and hid in the Vatican embassy in Panama City. Oddly enough, when the troops went up and rang the bell, Noriega didn't come out to play. In an creative attempt to get Noriega to give himself up, the Americans turned giant speakers toward the residence and tried to blast him out. At first they played newscasts, but soon after, they opened up the request lines. On December 25th they took a break from the requests to blast 24 hrs of Christmas music.  After that it was 4 more days of requests followed by Top 40 countdowns from the Billboard Top 100, Black 100 and Country 100 charts. After 10 days total, Vatican officials convinced Noriega to give himself up.  Now that's a playlist with a purpose!

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Don't Get on that Bus

I recently found out about something called Hangover Heaven. Perhaps you've heard about it on the news, but in case you haven't, Hangover Heaven is a big tour bus that cruises around Las Vegas offering help for hangovers. Actually it offers more than help, it offers a cure. For the low low price of ninety dollars you can rid yourself of a hangover by having a 45 minute treatment during which IV fluids are pumped through your system.  For an additional sixty dollars they'll even add anti nausea and anti inflammatory meds to the IV line. When I first heard about this concept, I wasn't sure how to react. After some careful thought, however, I've decided that I hate it. Emphatically. A hangover is a disease unworthy of a cure. Alzheimer's deserves a cure. Cancer deserves a cure. Feeling like shit because you drank more alcohol than your body can process deserves nothing more than itself. The real cure for a hangover is responsibility. Have fun, but handle yourself. Know your limits.  Test them if you want to, but when you unsuccessfully exceed them (as most of us have at one time or another), don't look for some magic bus to bail your pounding head, puking guts, sorry ass out.

I think the hangover bus bothers me the most because on a larger scale, it represents all that is wrong with our society today. We want all of the pleasure but none of the pain. Immediate rewards with very little sacrifice; weight loss pills instead of working out, energy drinks instead of going to bed on time, earn at home 'diploma mill' degrees instead of grueling academic programs with rigorous curricula.  The solutions to your problems are easy, all you need is money to buy the answers.  What? You don't have money? No sweat! Just put it on your credit card.  Get a student loan. Get a second mortgage. Take what you want, you deserve it. Except you don't, and neither do I. It's all about choices. Acknowledge the impracticality of your 'wants,' and live within your means. Commit to 'the long road,' and accept the consequences of your actions. The future of our nation depends on this. Finally, if you just can't manage to refrain from that 'last call' shot of tequilla, puke all over the bathrooms at the Bellagio if you have to, but please for the sake of society, don't get on that bus!

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3.30.12

I saw some things today...

An Asian man in an alley way swapping out CDs on a Discman. I remember when I got my first Discman. It was awesome. I even had that car adapter thing that was like a really really long wire attached to a cassette tape. I doubted they even sold these any more, so I did a google search. You too can own a brand new Sony Discman courtesy of Amazon.com for the low price of $43.96. Sure beats the 200 or so my parents must have paid in the 80s!

A Mercedes parked right in the middle of the crosswalk of the parent pickup line at school. Right in the GD middle. Not the nose of the car creeping into the vicinity, not the bumper sticking over the line a little. I'm talking full on, entire car, straddling the mother freakin' cross walk. I tell you, the people who appear at our children's schools during 'parent pickup' are some of the most untamed beasts our society has to offer. C'mon dude! Your tricked out Mercedes, super slick haircut, buff body and designer sunglasses didn't scream " Pompus Prick" loud enough? You really have to straddle the crosswalk? Really?

A People magazine with a cover photo of Trayvon Martin several years younger than the age he was when he was shot. I get that this is a tragedy, really I do. I think George Zimmerman deserves to be, and will most likely eventually end up, behind bars. If he was a black guy who shot a white kid (hoodie or not), he would never have left police custody. I hope that justice is served in this case and I believe that in time this will happen. One thing I can certainly do without, however, is People magazine trying to manipulate me emotionally by showing the photo of a much younger looking Martin so as to further project the image of innocence. That photo isn't going to change any minds. If you've been following the story and you don't think, "Man, that's messed up. That kid shouldn't have been shot," then the cover of People magazine sure as shit isn't going to change your mind. The only thing that cover can do is intensify the already existing outrage and send people of an already certain opinion into a tizzy. Using this photo was unnecessary and irresponsible, not to mention an insult to intellectuals everywhere. Intellectuals read "People" magazine, right?

A picture of Ceasar Chavez. Acknowledging my ignorance for a moment, I don't know who this dude is or what he did, but apparently it was significant enough for the City of Tempe to close their government offices in honor of him. I know this because I drove downtown today to pay my employer's City of Tempe sales taxes only to find that the doors were locked for, according to the posted sign and picture, the one and only (well actually, probably one of many) Mr. Cesar Chavez(es). Ironically, on my way down to Tempe, I had to pass through the mostly Mexican town of Guadalupe, where school was most certainly in session.

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The Littlest Good

I think the Salvation Army has got it wrong. For those of you who didn't know, those Christmas time bell ringing kettle shakers do have an official slogan. A sort of mantra if you will. Even it you won't, they still have it. The slogan is "Doing the Most Good." I do not like this slogan. First, I find it grammatically awkward. Second, I find this slogan pompous. Though the The Salvation Army website does list a variety of 13 categories of programs they support, is it really inconceivable that there is another charity out there with 14 categories? How can they claim to do the most good? Have they done research on every other charity in the world and compared apples to apples? I think not my friends! By the way, in case you're wondering, the charity category list, as it appears on the SA website, is not arranged alphabetically. In fact, the first category displayed is "Anti-Pornography." Something tells me the bell ringers were not present in the category selection meeting. Finally, the third reason I do not enjoy the Salvation Army slogan is that it plays into a societal epidemic of egotism. It too often feels like everyone is after bigger, better, faster, more. When we focus on the big, it is so easy to miss the beauty and competence of the small. Smaller, slower, steadier, less. In time, all of these things develop and become greater than 'more.' More is empty. Less is sufficient.

Consider an example from my own life...

Not too long ago I learned that a former co-worker's 4 year old son was diagnosed with brain cancer. My reaction to the news was typical; shock followed by remorse. I counted my blessings, hugged my kids a little tighter for a few days, and then continued on with my life. A few weeks later I got an invitation from my ex coworker to join the facebook page that his wife (whom I've only met once at their wedding) had created to chronicle their son's journey. Every few days or so they post a very detailed update about what exactly is going on in the little boy's life. Reading these posts makes me feel completely useless. There's nothing I can do or say that will improve the situation this family is in. I've kept the "hang in there"s and "let me know if I can do anything"s to myself, because I'm sure they get plenty of those already from people who are closer to them than me. Who am I? Instead, I chose to hide in the background "liking" any and all positive updates but leaving no comments......until this week.

The update this week was a description of the events leading up to an MRI. Essentially the child was kicking and squirming and screaming in resistance. It took both parents and a couple medical professionals to hold the kid down, a scene I know far too well due to the urinary reflux problems of our daughters (See "VCUG"). At any rate, the mom attributed the child's fit of resistance to him being "on to" the fact that he doesn't like the smell of the gas they use to put him out. I could relate to this anecdote intimately, so I left a comment. I said, "Will they let you put scented chap-stick on the inside of the mask to help with the smell? My daughters had bladder surgery at ages 3 and 7 and being able to pick their smell helped a little. He might be on to this trick to, but I couldn't read your post and not suggest it." I didn't expect a reply, but later that same day, the mom posted, "I'll ask about that. Great idea!!" The fact that I got a reply me feel good. The fact that she hadn't yet heard of the chap-stick trick made me feel even better. The fact that she followed "Great idea" with two exclamation points of enthusiasm made me feel (in the smallest way) useful, which is the best feeling of all. By sharing an unpleasant experience of my own, I was able to give a tiny suggestion that has the potential to make another person's unpleasant experience a little less so.

On the scale of helpful things one can do, I did the littlest good. But let's let it grow.....I told this mom about the chap-stick trick, she tells the hospital staff, and they start doing that for all of the children in that hospital. Then one of those other mom's at her hospital shares it with another mom whose kid goes to a different hospital, then she tells that hospital staff, and they start doing it too and so on and so forth until every child in the country is falling swiftly asleep to the sweet smell of strawberry kiwi anesthesia. A little overboard perhaps, but even still, I love the littlest good.

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That Which Cannot Be Duplicated

NOTE: This blog was written last night, but unable to be posted due to an internet outage

This evening I stole a few minutes for myself to partake in one of my favorite creative outlets - making music. I use the Garageband ap for the iPad, which is a dream come true. I'm sure some 'real' musicians out there find it to be a joke, but they can just go fuck themselves. Garageband has saved my creative soul. There is no faster way to develop random song ideas that pop into ones head than by using Garageband. While I have sent many a voicemail to myself containing two line melodic snip-its, I've never had a way to 'tinker' with these ideas or nurture them immediately. Many a snip-it has died somewhere between the 900th call from my mom and a dentist appointment reminder from a receptionist. Anyhow...

Tonight when I was working on a song, something strange happened. I was recording a drum track that was perfectly (read "fairly well") timed as I recorded it, however when I played it back, it was as though it was a half a beat or so behind. It didn't come out the way I wanted it to, but it was, in a weird way, better. I would never have recorded it that way on purpose and I will never be able to recreate it, because it happened completely unintentionally. Then I started thinking...

In my own life, it seems the greatest times I've had are the ones I've approached with limited and unspecified intentions. The best stories come from the things we stumble upon. Things like the 'one drink' happy hour that turns into an all nighter. Or the moment when you are inexplicably drawn to the lips of lover. When we remove all intention and allow moments to manifest on their own, the memories they create are incredible. The only problem is this...

Incredible memories that cannot be duplicated are the emotional equivalent of crack. Though I've never tried crack, from what I understand, the first time you use it, you get so unbelievably high that you spend the rest of your days chasing that ‘first time euphoria.’ Then your life falls apart. Similarly (but not as severely of course), if you approach a situation with the intentions of duplicating a previous positive memory, you are destined to fail. Reflecting on my own life I realize now, that the times I’ve tried to chase a memory are the same ones that have left me feeling the emptiest. Don’t spend your days chasing that which cannot be duplicated. Allow memories to make themselves and you will never become a crack head.

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Generation WTF

Every generation has a name. Generation X. Generation Y. The Greatest Generation. The Not So Greatest Generation. I might have made that last one up. We use these GENERation names to refer to entire segments of the population in a GENERic way. While I could very easily go off on a tangent about generalities in general, for the moment I shall refrain.

Over the past few days I've been thinking about the generation to which my children belong. A generation I now call "Generation WTF." The meaning for this new tag I have placed on our kids is two fold. First, it is a reference to the ever increasing abbreviation of our language. Our syntax is being circumvented in a sort of communication castration. Bombarded by texting and all of this TTYL8R and WWJD, I gotta say, it's a terrible time to be a vowel. I'm afraid there is no turning back on this erosion of our eloquence, but I sure hope I am wrong.

The second reason why I have bestowed the "Generation WTF" tag on our children is that so often while observing and interacting with this age group, I find myself thinking, "What the F*ck?!" A few examples for your consideration:

1. The emergence of "Peanut Awareness." Apparently, peanut butter is poison these days. It is so dangerous, in fact, that kids who have peanut allergies must sit at entirely separate lunch tables from those who do not. When was the last time you saw a kid smear another kid's face with PB&J just to watch him stop breathing? I say to you, " Generation WTF?!"

2. Over the top parties with over the top presents. Birthday parties for kids are out of control. When I was a kid, they parties were always at the kids house. Cake, a couple games and you'd call it good. Nowadays kids get bouncy castles and petting zoos! I was recently at a party for an 8 year old who got a 'sit on' motorized scooter that goes up to 15 mph. Not only is the thing not recommended for kids under age 12, but it also costs more than 3 weeks worth of groceries. I say to you, "Generation WTF?!"

3. Everyone is a Princess. What happened to the days when the contents of the dress up box were representations of respectable people in professions? You know - productive members of society who actually do something important for a living. Doctors, nurses, police officers, fireman, etc. If you ever want to be nauseous, take a look at the dress up boxes of today: princess, cheerleader, pop star, stripper. Just kidding on that last one....for now anyway. "Generation WTF?!"

4. Valentines is know referred to by the public school system as "Friendship Day." Generation WTF?!

5. I'm 9. I have a cell phone. "Generation WTF?!"

I could go on and on but for now I'll say, "To Be Continued." Oops, I mean TBC.

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Lovely Day

Today Brendan and I took the kids to "A Mountain" in Tempe for a little hike. It was lovely. A little exercise in the great outdoors on the old campus. Also, a wonderful opportunity to use my new camera! Neither Brendan nor I have climbed A Mtn. in over 12 years, so it was kinda neat to return 12 years later as a little family. The Parking meters were an unexpected disappointment, but we managed to scrape up enough loose change in the van to avoid getting a ticket. Kristen only had to be carried for a total of about 5 minutes, so that was bonus! As we climbed closer and closer to the "A," the girls' excitement seemed to climb as well. They were thrilled when we let them go over to touch and sit on it. Not sure what's so special about it - I sit on my A everyday! Badumpcha! Anyway...we made our way to the tippy top of the mountain, where we had a little snack before heading back down for lunch at 4 Peaks. As if I needed a reminder of the fact that children live in their own little world, the girls started strong arming each other for position when we got to the top. That's right, pushing and squirming while on top of a pile of jagged rocks on top of a mountain, thousands of feet in the sky. Hello Knuckleheads! Go on, pay no attention to your surroundings. No big deal. Just, you know, one over-reach and you'll become a tumbling ball of flesh headed screaming down the mountainside! Ah to be a kid again...

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Things I Don't Give a Shit About

Mitt Romney's tax rate.

Where President Obama gives his Democratic party nomination acceptance speech.

How many times "Teen Mom" stars get arrested.

Anything the Kardasians are doing.

Why Paula Dean has diabetes.

Wikipedia going "dark" for a day.

The upcoming American Idol premier.

Why the Italian cruise ship captain abandoned ship.

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Someone's Bleaching Beyonce!

While on line at Walgreen's today I happened across the newest Beyonce album called "4". I had to do a double take because at first I thought Lindsay Lohan released an album straight from the slammer. Nope. Then I looked a little harder and thought maybe Lisa Bonet had been resurrected from the dead. Wrong again. Finally after a third reeaaalllly long stare I finally figured it out - that cracked out white chick is Beyonce! Not sure what happened to black being beautiful, but apparently "strung out white" is the new black. I had to make sure I wasn't losing my mind, so I did an image search for Beyonce album covers and that's when things took a turn for the worst. Not only is Beyonce whiter than she used to be, but it also seems the more successful she becomes, the whiter she gets. They way I figure she's about two albums and a Grammy away from being clear. Chalk another one up for the regressive record industry. Such a shame.

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The Greatest Gift

In two days Brendan and I will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. Historically, we're not big gift givers when it comes to each other. For birthdays, Christmas, and anniversaries we usually make a pact, in which we decide not to buy each other anything, but rather "save the money" for something more important, like a family vacation, or the (minimal) emergency fund. This year has been different. Instead of a "No Gift" pact for birthdays and Christmas, we opted for a "Minimal Gift on a Budget" pact. I have to say it has been refreshing. It has reminded me the deep seeded truth in the old cliche "It's the thought that counts." It's nice to be thought of, and it's nice to receive a gift that is thoughtful. Imagine my surprise when (four days before our anniversary) I received from Brendan a very thoughtful gift via a Canon Rebel camera. I have always wanted a really nice camera. I have never articulated this much because I know they are expensive and there is always something more sensible to spend money on. Now however, thanks to the thoughtfulness and generosity of lovely husband, I have a really nice camera! Just in time to work on this month's cyngle photography challenge! This gift has brought my love of taking pictures to a new level.

Inspiration runs through me.

Come ride the inspiration train...

www.cyngle.com (cut and paste this because I tried and failed 6 times to imbed this as a link)



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Tick Tock...Let's Go!

Today I've been thinking about time. I've heard the saying, "Time is on your side," and I have to say, I couldn't agree less. I'd say time is, more often than not, on the other side. The side which is not yours, or mine, or ours. It is impossible to have enough time. We have to pick and choose the things we make time for. Work, family, friends, exercise, hobbies, relaxation. Relaxation? Who has time for that? I suppose this dilemma of how to spend one's time is not such a burden for those with little ambition or limited interests. Too bad I'm not one of them.

Today my cousin learned that a coworker is terminally ill and would not return to work beyond Friday. As in tomorrow. He is suddenly well past his prime and mid way through his second to last day of work. Ever. Time may be on his side, but only because it is anchored firmly behind him pushing him mercilessly over the edge to the other side. The thrust of time is a testament to the fragility of our mortality, and so, I do not like it. If we were picking teams for dodge ball, you could have time. I'll take the fat kid. Time is a crummy teammate. Unless of course you're wine, or cheese, or whiskey. Man I wish I was whiskey.

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