Thank God for The Typo Eradication Advancement League (TEAL)

I feel weak, a little giddy, and damn near hopeful. To know that while I sleep or sit on my sofa baffled by (but unable to stop watching) something called High School Reunion, there is a group of people out there fixing typos and spelling errors all over this great country of ours.

What could be better?

I know there are wars and human suffering and embarrassing campaigns and disintegrating job markets, but this is what we need in America. People who give a shit about the very basics of education and do something about it. The world is now a better place.

Like I said, I’m giddy. This calls for an M&M and a blog entry. And quite possibly a T-shirt order to show solidarity and appreciation.

http://www.jeffdeck.com/teal/
http://www.jeffdeck.com/teal/blog/

(I checked this post an extra umpteen times for typos. If you find one, do let me know, and then do something about the economy. Please?)

My Thirteenth Tale

“Which floor?”

“Thirteen, please.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Pray for me.”

“Oh my. I didn’t know hotels did that anymore.”

“The Hiltons have total disregard for their customers' safety.”

“You probably could get a different room.”

“I suppose I could. But apparently my laziness outweighs my better judgement.”

“Hopefully, you’re not staying long.”

“Just tonight.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Yes, a comfort, really.”

DING.

“God be with you.”

“Thank you. And with you."

I tried not to stand too close to the glass windows. I was careful to steady myself in the bathroom at all times. I moved everything out of the path to the door.

I made it to the morning and got out alive.

Thoroughbred Retirement Home

I’m not a horse person. I don’t dislike horses, I just don’t know any. I sometimes nod at things my friend, Lisa, who is a horse aficionado, tells me just so I won’t look so stupid.

Between Louisville and Lexington on I-64, there are not quite 100 miles of horse farm after horse farm. All the same. One after another, after another. Rolling fields, pastures I’ve heard, covered in snow after the weekend blizzard and corralled by low, dark wooden – I think – fences. An occasional barn. Some as big as houses. A horse here. A horse there. Nothing remarkable once you’ve seen the first ten or fifty.

And then.

At the end of the trek, right before the nirvana of Lexington, is the “Thoroughbred Retirement Home”. Huge happy bright green sign. Barn? Looks like a clubhouse. Brick. Crowned with gables. Country club lighting. Swimming pool? Maybe horsey hot tubs.

Deliberately lined with trees. Impeccably spaced and manicured. Letting in only the perfect mixture of sun and shade. Every so often, buckets of sorts. Actually, they look more like oversized loving cups. Full of something cool to drink. Filtered water, perhaps?

Higher and possibly heated ground. Not a speck of snow in sight, yet in any other direction, there is tons of it. Greener pastures, as it were.

I see cables. Not yet underground utilities? Lights to read by? Outdoor space heaters? Stereo? Intercom system? To call for dinner in the dining hall. Or to the parlor when family comes to visit.

The equine retirees gather in groups. So much to talk about after all. Such full, happy and productive lives.

Lone - and probably bitter - horses on the outside stare longingly in the Home’s direction. I wonder if they’ve ever tried to jump the fence. Only to hang their heads in shame at being returned to their subsidized homes where they belong. Probably only do that once.

If only they’d performed better. Saved more. Made better choices. Had a better start in life. Had more talent. Were encouraged by their parents to pursue said talent.

Somebody got mad at me last week for comparing human beings to animals in our survival of the fittest instincts. Hrmmmph.

Knoxville. The drive was beautiful. The hotel room view was beautiful. Room service was beautiful. And Tom Jones. As he puts it, he’s just “200 pounds of heavenly joy.” Then. And now.

Back home now. And so sad. I know why, of course. I count twelve reasons. Unrelated to each other, too. Oh wait, thirteen reasons 'cause I know I'll probably never make it to the people version of the Thoroughbred Retirement Home. :)

Chills and Fever

Could this be a sign? Austin is going to Galveston the first week of April for his last High School Spring Break. It dawned on me that I might go somewhere, too. So, where do I look first? Tom Jones’ Website, of course!! (Seeing him LIVE is tops on my life's to-do list.)

He’s performing at MGM that week. I calculated about $600 to get there and stay for one night. Plus the $100 for the ticket.

Then………….and luckily...…

I spotted an article or a review or some cyber thing-a-ma-jig that said he was touring the country!!

So, I delved a little deeper….

St. Louis!! 4 hours away!! An arena, though. Did I want to see Tom Jones in a hockey rink? Not so much.

Prairie Some Place, Iowa. For Tom – the first entry on my life’s to do list? Apparently, not so much.

Knoxville!! 5 hours away!! In the Tennessee Theatre where their symphony plays. Row L. Close to aisle. Not bad. Hilton 3 blocks away. Coupon. Done.

I’m a lady with chills and fever who feels the green, green grass of home.

And I don't mind if I do help myself to a lil’ puppet man.

Dan and Dave

Dan Miller was on Dave Ramsey’s radio and TV shows Monday, the 18th, making for a perfect combination of inspiration and perspiration: Dan works on one’s income, and Dave works on one’s outgo.

Both agreed on the five requirements for success:

  • Passion
  • Determination
  • Faith
  • Talent
  • Self-discipline

Dave said, “What’s great is that you can decide TODAY to have all five.”

They also agreed that 85% of success is identifying strengths, while only 15% is the logistics of getting there. (Where they got the percentages is not entirely clear, but who am I?!)

One of Cynthia Morris’ tasks this month was for us to identify a “Creative Leap” and the skills and qualities we used that made it a success.

Guess I’m off to make my list of how great I can be. I could be a while (not due to length of list). :)

No News is Good News

Another teenage shooting that leaves me bewildered. An explanation of the super-delegate system set up by the Democratic Party in 1982 that makes me mad. An air quality alert for people still living in FEMA trailers after Katrina that embarrasses me (not for the reason you might think, though).

So, I’ve decided to disconnect. I’m going to try a week with no news.

No local news.
No national news.
No Internet news.
Not even NPR.
Nothing.

       Ignorance.

                 Bliss.

For a whole week.

I know Rod Stewart’s Reason to Believe isn’t related to politics, but as soon as I made my decision, this was the first song I heard on the radio. “Political 2008” in a nutshell:

If I listened long enough to you
I'd find a way to believe that it's all true
Knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe

 

Update: It's now Day 3 of my 7-day detox and all is well. And much hopeful! 

For a reason

I have lived a more solitary unassuming life, I think mostly due to being a single parent with a non-existent support system (for the last decade or so). Not overly conducive to socializing with other adults and just plain ol' having fun. I also operated during my thirties and early forties mostly from financial fear. Paralyzing in many, many ways.

I’m coming around now, and I don’t mean to sound pitiful, because I’m not, but I do have to deliberately adjust even the simplest of thought processes about myself now.

I am also one of those people who believes that everyone I meet is sent my way for a reason. Some are merely floaters and flashes, but some are teachers and even friends of varying durations.

And then there are the blessings.

Part of the day, I share office space with one of the most genuine and most kind women I have met in a long time. She is just a joy, and so refreshing after a long stretch of projects around a pretty depressing lot.

But lengthy conversation with a female five feet from me is new and sometimes uncomfortable. I often struggle in my contribution. I fight for the right words and anecdotes to share. Age? Maybe. But I think it mostly comes from being rusty. And years of being disrespectful to myself. I find myself weighing everything I say not wanting to come across as though I have or am anything as a result of anything I have done. I have operated for so long on the philosophy of only Luck.

When discussing a consultant in the office I have worked with in the past and keep running into, we talked about our mutual admiration for her ambition. She is starting a new business and having some recent fantastic successes with it.

ME: “It’s nice to see how well she’s doing and how much she’s loving it.”

KIND GAL: “It’s funny that you two keep running into each other.”

ME: “I know! We have to figure out why. I’m thinking she has something to teach me, because it certainly isn’t the other way around.”

Pulling her chair close to mine to get my full attention, speaking directly into my eyes, KIND GAL: “KAREN. You are smart. You are interesting and fun and funny. You have done so well in your career. You are a beautiful person. You have raised a good human being all by yourself. There is wisdom in that alone. You have more to offer than most people do. You have to respect that as much as the people who know you do.”

Being maladjusted to support like that, especially from someone I’ve known such a short time (although some discussions have lasted longer than I should admit here), I had to secretly go to the bathroom to cry. I can’t tell you the last time someone has spoken so highly of me.

To my face anyway. Right? Heh heh.

Cynthia Morris' Creative Leaps

Leave it to Cynthia Morris of Original Impulse fame to come up with something so clever and uplifting for February.

The premise is leap year. She’s making a huge “creative leap” this year (but is saving the announcement for – get this – February 29th, the actual leap in a leap year), so she’s decided to make February a month full of leaps for her fans.

Each day, for the entire month, she’ll post a new creative leap on her blog. Today’s leap, for example, is to grab a “Creative Leap Notebook” in support of the Write it Down, Make it Happen philosophy.

I came across Cynthia’s book, Create Your Writer’s Life, way back in 2005. I entered a summer daily impulse contest and won two free coaching sessions with her. My life hasn’t been the same. If I had the money, I’d pay her to talk to me every day.

Now, I won’t post her entire month of leaps here – that’s wrong anyway - but I have added a link to the left for the month.

I haven’t leapt in years!! Hopefully, I won’t break a hip looking for my notebook.

January 31st?

What? New Year’s Day was 30 days ago? Wasn’t I supposed to accomplish something in January? I created a spreadsheet in December outlining my 2008 goals, but I haven’t even opened it yet. I’m behind. Already. Or am I?

  • Attended two local writing events (which really just reinforced the amount of competition out there)
  • Scheduled JELCC class for March
  • Worked on three new projects (and not an Indian in sight!)
  • Created new ICE newsletter and new CFLC Website menu
  • Read
  • Worked on new PSM template
  • Was sick for a week and lost six pounds. Was well for two days and gained it back.

you probably didn't know

(I saw this posted on a blog I regularly visit and thought it was cute. The idea is to pass it on to other bloggers to learn something about each other.)

I am addicted to I Love Lucy reruns. I still watch the Real World/Road Rules Challenges. I did not enjoy the original “An Affair to Remember”. I like Joyce Meyer.

I try not to, but I still get jealous of the successes of others. I think I could stay in the house for weeks at a time. I could eat my weight in peanut M&Ms. I have never not had a perplexing neighbor. I believe greed is the deadliest of the sins.

I often feel guilty for no reason (leftover from Catholic school days). I can be too righteous for my own good. I don’t let go easily. I’m a loyal friend and a good listener. I have good instincts about people, but sometimes don’t react accordingly. I procrastinate in dangerous proportions.

I have a consuming crush on the man in the Kleenex commercials. I google people I have known. A whole lot of people baffle me. Judaism fascinates me. Volunteering disappoints me. Love eludes me. I lock my doors at certain red lights. I fear for this country, mostly because of the alarming reproductive rates of people who should not reproduce at all.

I check my horoscope every day and my numeroscope every month. I am insanely overdue for an annual physical, but the thought of making an appointment gives me hives. I don’t feel like I deserve to get professional pedicures, so I never do.

I love not being an employee. I love not knowing where I’ll be in five years. I am perpetually grateful.

IU Ready

It comes up in conversation more often now that the end of life as I have known it for seventeen years is closing in. The ultimate question I am asked is if I'm ready.

“How was your day?”

“Fine. Like every other day.”

“Anything exciting happen today?”

“I said no.”

“Got any homework?”

“Some."

"What do you want for dinner?"

"I don't care. Why are you bothering me?”

Low Expectations

Too few years ago, I learned about laws of attraction, high expectations, and daily affirmations for positive outcomes. My chemical makeup seems to reject these things, so it’s an almost daily internal struggle to remember.

Yesterday morning, I had to pick up a new remote at the cable company office. I arrived early in an attempt to be first in line, because I had a class in thirty minutes. The doors didn’t open until 9am and it was cold, so I waited in the car. One by one, cars began filling the parking lot. Like vultures, all of us sitting in our cars eyeing each other and our prey, planning our attacks on the Comcast door.

Knowing that being the first car there didn’t necessarily mean I’d be first in line – especially with these people, I had surmised - I got my coat and headed toward the door at 8:57. Typical. The man in the car next to me immediately copied me and got to the door first. I’m sure my expression (evil eye) was transparent.

I have tried to make sure I don’t scowl in public ever since my first ex-husband told me I looked angry and ugly all the time. Allen - or Alan, I can’t remember which and to find out, I’d have to dig up old papers and really shouldn’t have even spent this typing time on him - told me many hateful things, all of which I have no problem remembering. He voiced this revelation after watching me walk from the store to the car, where he had waited in the passenger seat. I thought he was in love and was happy to see me return.

Anyway, I’ve been fairly successful in my attempt not to look visibly ticked-off for no reason until the hormonal years of late.

“You were here first,” he said with a smile as he motioned for me to get in front of him at the door.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” being the passive-aggressive that I am.

“No, seriously, please.”

“Alright, then. Thank you.” I physically felt the dam of low expectations break and the heat of guilt and embarrassment course through me.

And we made nice little small talk for the next two minutes.

(I wish I had told him about the previous five minutes I had with myself in the car. It might have been the right thing to do in return. But it felt a little too personal.)

Christmas Eve 1997

Two weeks. She had been in the hospital for two weeks. Not unusual at 95. Every trip to the hospital was a long one.

I was two hours away, so I waited for the school holidays to visit. Then, I waited until Christmas afternoon, when I had to take Austin to his father’s family in Atlanta anyway.

Convenience.

Christmas Eve Day. Her only family visitor in two weeks.

“I’m scared.”

He patted her hand and stroked her hair. “There’s nothing to be scared of.”

The affirmation she needed.

The call came within the hour. He hadn’t even made it home.

I wasn’t there.

I enjoyed Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. He didn’t want to ruin Austin’s visit from Santa.

Convenience.

Indy Arts Council

I love this place: http://www.indyarts.org/

I got my IndyArts card in the mail today, too. Now, not only can I find a database of artists (of all kinds), search calendars, apply for Arts Council grants, find out about the hundreds of FREE events at the ArtsGarden (an incredible seven-story glass enclosure connecting hotels, shops, restaurants and the convention center), I can also get discounts and e-mail newsletters.

One thing you cannot complain about in Indianapolis is the city's dedication to its artists and art organizations. The Council has a new site as well: PAL or Public Art Locator, which pinpoints public art exhibitions on a map of the city.

I feel so artsy.

Have you gone through the change?

Well, if I didn’t feel old before, today cinched it.

Dental hygienist, after looking at a tooth issue: “Have you gone through the change?”

“Um, not that I know of.”

“Do you take any medications?”

“Um, noooo.”

“Really? Wow, that’s really good.”

Dentist, after making sure I was mouth-healthy enough to leave, used the patronizing kiss of death: “Okay, young lady, we’ll see you in three months.”

Austin asked for a stamp. “I got bored one day in Atlanta. Do you have a stamp and can you mail my voter’s registration form?”

“Sure. I'll mail it along with my tear-stained AARP application.”

Then I filled out a survey and noticed the age group I’ll move to this year: 45-54. 54?!? Seriously?

And, last but not least, I cannot read the I-sware-it's-the-tiniest-print-I've-ever-seen directions on the bottle of fuel cleaner I bought today. I think it says something about the gas tank but can’t be sure.

All in one afternoon! I should start snoring in my chair any minute now.

The State of the Union

I started in position #84 and waited three months for Rosie O’Donnell’s book, Celebrity Detox (which barely qualified as a book, in my opinion).

There was no waiting time for Lou Dobbs’ Independents Day and I was able to renew it today with no problem.

I hate it. I understand it, but I hate it.

Annual Gratitude Exercise 2007

When my son was little, we did everything holiday-ish that I could find to do - from visiting Santa at every kid-related event in town to driving for hours looking at neighborhood lights. One tradition was the viewing of the million-lights display that the owners of a huge car dealership in Powder Springs put up every year. We would sit and sit in the miles long traffic just to drive through their cul-de-sac for what couldn’t have been more than 45 seconds.

My son has returned to Powder Springs, to his father’s family celebrations, for about four years now. I imagine he always will and for the same reason I feel a pull to Memphis: the early years.

My mother expected perfection in so many things, and the holidays were no exception. After she died, each year became more and more of a disappointment. I was never able to recreate the memories, but, while Austin was small, I enjoyed every minute of the lights, the colors, the music, the mall decorations, the wrapping of the presents, the putting up of the tree, and even the trips as an adult to what were just scraps of home.

Now that he’s pretty much baked, I still love this time of year, just for different reasons.

I have two traditions now. An annual gratitude exercise (I keep a daily gratitude journal, but this is more general) and a goal setting worksheet. Both make me think about the past year and the possibilities of a new year.

My homemade goal setting spreadsheet (derived from Dan Miller’s 48 Days workbook) is over in my Freelancing Journal.

My 2007 tribute to my tiny corner of the Universe is here:

  • In 2007, I lost two more friends, not to death, but to the death of the friendships. The intentional loss of family a few years back will probably remain raw for years to come. But, I have connected more with the friends I still have and found that this tiny, eclectic group has something that I am most grateful for: positive, happy, supportive, kind, spiritual, intellectual, and independent lives to share.
  • Discovering an online community of bloggers, writers, readers, artists
  • Every book I read, even the bad ones
  • Clients
  • The times in which I live
  • TCM, NPR and PBS
  • People who give of themselves, while I temporarily can’t seem to
  • An uncanny birthday connection with a kindred spirit
  • Doing what I know is the right thing
  • Teachers like Dave Ramsey, Lou Dobbs, Joyce Meyer....
  • The comfort of an old lap dog
  • Health, medicines and the income to contribute to both
  • Impeccable timing during stressful times
  • A good friend with a good accountant
  • Reflecting on the last 17 years with the love of my life
  • College acceptance letters
  • Rare moments of teen emotion and excitement (A’s in Biology)
  • Finding local political homes
  • Associations with passionate people
  • God’s Law of Attraction
  • An Allstate Customer Service rep
  • Colored walls
  • Surprises
  • Unwavering dreams
  • Austin’s ability to do handyman things
  • Being needed for another year
  • And to the Universe’s biggest gift to me this year: The lovingly and delicately timed releases of responsibility, which have allowed me to maintain a smidge of grace and dignity through each loss.

Signs of a Comeback

The late humorist Erma Bombeck once wrote about a recurring dream she had:

"[In it]...I am asked to give an accounting of my...life to a higher court, it [goes] like this: 'So, empty your pockets. What have you got left of your life? Any dreams that were unfulfilled? Any unused talent that we gave you when you were born that you still have left? Any unsaid compliments or bits of love that you haven't spread around?

"And I will answer, 'I've nothing to return. I spent everything you gave me. I'm as naked as the day I was born.'"

From a 2003 entry in Mark Daniel's Better Living blog: "We find our purpose in life when we commit ourselves to giving ourselves, our time, our talent, and our treasures in service to God and neighbor."

I read an article this morning at http://www.wthr.com/Global/story.asp?S=7540715 about a group of people who distribute food specifically to the elderly (who could be more deserving of help, I ask). I think I may have found my New Year's Resolution.

Christmas 2007

It sure didn’t feel like Christmas this year. I never did put up a tree. A wreath did make it to the door and a sad little plastic waving Santa did make it to the front porch. I say sad, because, he never got plugged in and he kept falling over in the wind, so most of the time he just looked like he needed a chalk outline drawn around him. Hell, I never even watched Rudolph or Frosty this year, completely missing the meaning of Christmas this year!!

December 22nd: It took me all day to calculate that the best time for me to go to the mailbox and get Santa (who had blown into the yard this time) would be after dark. I didn’t want to get in the way of all the holiday comings and goings in the subdivision. Plus, there’s the whole hideous monster thing, best for another time.

December 23rd: I decided to actually leave the house to pick up something to eat. Driving back home, my impeccable timing put me in front of a family pulling out from a nearby church’s Sunday service. The driver – the father, all dressed in his Sunday before Christmas best - tailgated me and swerved from side to side to supposedly make his inconvenience even more visible to me. When I braked and put on my blinker to turn into my subdivision, he nearly hit me. Looking back at him in my mirror, I saw him yelling in my direction and giving me the finger.

December 24th: I went to the post office and re-routed (there was NO parking at Target) to Wal-Mart for two space heaters. I normally don’t shop on Christmas Eve day, but I really had to. The check out girl looked me in the eye, smiled and said, “Merry Christmas” when she handed me the receipt. As I left, the Salvation Army bell ringer man looked me in the eye, smiled and said, “Merry Christmas. You stay warm now. And keep that smile.” It was the most live human contact I’ve had in over a week. And it would be counted among one of my few, but precious Christmas gifts this year.

December 25th: I watched the National Cathedral Service this morning. One of the sermons was ever so Christianly called, “I want what you have”. Of course, what was meant was that the light and peace within we Christians should make others want to ask us what brings us such joy, which in turn, provides us with the opportunity to witness. Or flip birds in traffic. Or say we have four children who need donated coats when we only have one child. Or thank Jesus for “blessing” us with a new car. Or preach to our congregation in the morning, and leave our wife and kids for our mistress's house in the evening. Or ungratefully gripe about our Christmas holidays. I called Austin to wish him Merry Christmas. He got mad at me, because I couldn’t hear him above all the talking in the background. He had to go after exactly 47 seconds because his problem-child cousin showed up and started messing with his game controller. The worst Lifetime movie I have ever seen was just interrupted by a commercial for two interlocking metal sticks that can be squeezed together to build bigger breasts and purchased for only $19.95.

I realize I could and probably should have spread some Christmas cheer by going to a church service or volunteering at a downtown mission, but given my recent experiences with both of these, I know when to leave well enough alone and stay away from others. Christmas 2006 felt better. Christmas 2008 will too.