Screen Season

watching-tvThe leaves are changing, the temperature is dropping, school is in session…. And the glow of the tv screen beckons.

During the summer months, I watch virtually no television programming. Other than a snippet of the morning News, I don’t feel the need to grab the clicker.  It is warm outside, daylight until 9pm, and I have a lot of other things to do. Besides, no offense to the men in my household, but I can watch only so many repeat episodes of American Pickers, Pawn Stars and Storage Wars.

Then the Fall television line up begins to call to me, luring me in like an old friend eager to reconnect.  Unfortunately, I missed the big kick-off event, the Emmy’s.  What can I say, I was still in summer mode, and completely forgot the award show was on.  By missing it, I feel like I’ve missed the ribbon cutting ceremony for Couch Potato Season.  Luckily I’ve seen some of the highlights replayed on entertainment programs and online.  I even caught some of Joan Rivers’ recap of the red carpet.

After that launch, we have jumped full steam ahead this week into the Screen Season.  For the first couple of weeks, I will become a glutton for escapism as I tune in to watch new fare and returning shows, gleefully mapping out my viewing plan like a mad scientist doing equations on a chalkboard.  “Let’s see, I want to catch that new show at 9:00 on CBS, which gives me time to switch over to NBC at 9:30 to watch that one, oh, and I have to remember to tune in the next night for….”  And so it goes.

I do this planning because we are apparently one of the only American families without a DVR.  Gone are the days of confusing multi-step programming of a VCR and then just hoping the system clicks on and tapes your show. Now there is equipment (not yet in our household) that with a few pushes of buttons will not only record, but track our favorite shows and get to know our preferences.  In my family we routinely talk about getting one, but then decide against it because there are multiple ways to find shows missed – between re-airing episodes, On Demand options, network websites, and a variety of entertainment Apps, it is pretty easy to catch up.  Of course, having an inventory of shows stored up is a double-edged sword; you have to find the time to watch what you didn’t have time to see in the first place.  One of my girlfriends calls this DVR Anxiety.

The beginning of the Fall TV season is like secretly taking advantage of a guilty pleasure in the privacy of my own home.  Rather than swimming through vats of ice cream, I’m diving into a giant sundae of distraction, and revel in the pleasure of  enjoying this other world.  I laugh and I cry and I get scared and I get fascinated – all over things outside of my own life.

Of course I realize my time could, and most likely should, be used in a more constructive manner, doing something for the good of my family or my community.  But I can’t help myself —  my Monday night was far better this week because I spent it with Adam, Blake, Christina and Cee Lo.

And as Real Women, how can we not feel a surge of excitement and anticipation over the return of Michael J. Fox; to find out if Beckett accepts Castle’s proposal or how Sheldon and Penny will respond to Leonard’s return; and to meet Crosby and Jasmine’s new baby?

The whole experience is enhanced by the post-episode dishing with friends and co-workers.  Kind of like a less intellectual book club, we examine what we saw, how we felt and relive the highlights – the good, the bad and the ugly.  Truly a fun pastime.

Eventually my TV splurging will subside a bit, and I will whittle down my viewing to the small handfuls of my own “must see” tv — and life will return to a normal routine.  Yes, I admit, there will be one or two shows that I actually arrange my evening activities around so I can watch the majority of episodes.  Luckily I’m good at multi-tasking so I can get other things done around the house while I watch.  And, as is true every year, there will be some programs I enjoy that will only last a season or two before being taken off the air.  Some of my favorites will go the way of Smash, Enlightened, Harry’s Law and Hung and I’ll go through a short period of mourning until something else entertaining comes along.  Which of course leads me to believe that I’m not the average watcher.  I think it has something to do with the fact that I’m not enthralled with forensics, vampires or the undead.

Ah, yes, Fall escapism in its purest form has arrived.   And like a momma bear going through hibernation, I will emerge in a few weeks and re-focus on reality.  In the meantime, please excuse me while I go bond with my pretend friends in a box.

 

 

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Perfect Days

awardsWhen was the last time you had a perfect day?

Maybe I should clarify what I mean by “perfect.”

I’m not talking about magically waking up looking like Jennifer Aniston or Sophia Vergara, being ideally healthy and fit, having no responsibilities or cares in the world, waltzing through a day without any mistakes or errors, and winning the lottery.  Nope, not that kind of perfect.  Because as much as we may dream of it, days like that are just not going to happen.  We are real women and this is reality.

And reality can be challenging, leading us to feel stressed and tired.  So the Perfect Days that I am referring to are those that instead make us feel great and invigorate us. The kind of day you enjoy so much you wish time would slow down so you can savor every moment, and when you climb into bed at the end, you think “what an awesome day.”

We all have our own ideas of what would constitute a perfect day.  And our concept of a flawless day shifts and changes based on our moods, our needs and cravings, our location and even our age.  Certainly when I picture a perfect day in my head now it looks a whole lot different than it did when I was in my teens or 20’s.

Take a moment right now to stop and think about what a perfect day would look like for you today.  Go ahead, take a moment and imagine it.  I’ll wait here….

……

……

ahhhhh, pretty nice, isn’t it?

I think there are dozens of “categories” of impeccable days in our minds.

The easy ones are vacation days.  They could involve an outing or adventure with the family, or they could simply be lounging on a tropical beach with a girlfriend, being served fruity drinks by handsome cabana boys. (Ok, so some perfect days are more feasible than others…)

Then there are romantic perfect days with our spouse, boyfriend or partner.

Or perfect days being alone.

Active perfect days.

Lazy perfect days..

Perfect days far away.

Perfect days at home.

Perfect days with our children.

Perfect days without them.

Some folks can even have perfect days at work.  Imagine that.

I think for the most part, especially for us real women, the key ingredients to an amazing day are when we actually get a chance to slow down, to stop racing at 110 mph, and take a break from our lengthy list of must-do’s.

And if that is really the case, then it shouldn’t be that hard to conjure up a few perfect days here and there.

I had one this weekend. My Saturday started with a peaceful morning walk with my dog in crystal clear cool and sunny early Fall weather.  The rest of the day was spent with my BFF’s.  We roamed around an outdoor arts & crafts fair, did some shopping in a pretty country town, and just enjoyed being girlfriends and doing girlie things.  We finished up the day having dinner together and laughing a lot, and venting about the ravages of middle age and how our families put the “fun” in dysfunction.   That evening one of my BFF’s, who was in from out of town, stayed over at my house and we got in our jammies and watched a goofy movie with my husband.

That’s it.  Simple.  No wild and crazy adventures, no big night out on the town, no  unusual activities or fancy galas.  It was, however, one of those days that I felt happy to be alive, happy to have such good friends, to feel relaxed and have fun.  I wanted time to slow down so we could enjoy our time together even longer, and when I went to bed that night, I thought “this was a fantastic day.”

In my book, that means it was Perfect.

I completely believe we have Perfect Days to help us get through the ones that are not-so-perfect.  We can get through the ugly days, the tough days, and even the horrific days because we know that at some point, we’ll be granted another one that is awesome.   We will cling to it, we will revel in it, and it will be the kind of day we’ll remember years later.

Perfectly.

 

 

 

 

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Bigger Than Us

Rosie and OpalIt is ever so easy for Real Women to get deeply pulled in to our day-to-day challenges and activities. We seem to be perennially beating deadlines at work, making customers happy, managing our busy family’s schedules, and getting chores done.  We get so focused on our to-do lists that we can easily get absorbed and stressed, and weeks can go by before we pause to take a breath and bring our heads above water enough to take a look at the rest of the world. Certainly, we all try to stay in tune to world events by catching up on the news or reading our online sources so we can be somewhat in touch with happenings beyond our immediate scope.  But how often do we really take a clear view at bigger pictures?

I know that for me, it often takes an unexpected event to grab my attention, for me to realize that the environment around me is saying “Hi, remember me?  There is a big world out here and you haven’t really been paying a lot of attention lately.”

This weekend my son and I took a road trip to visit his Grandpa and Grammy.  On Saturday, the four of us took a ride to Hope, Maine, a small rural town, to visit a non-profit organization that is caring for two retired circus elephants.  My Dad has always had a passion for elephants, so we thought this would be a fun excursion.  What it proved to be was educational and eye-opening.   This small group of volunteers, including a sharp, caring and charismatic Veterinarian, have indeed been nursing back to health two elephants that came to them injured and ailing.  In less than a year, through the wonders of medicine, physical therapy, hydrotherapy and even acupuncture, the giant creatures are doing great and likely will have a comfortable retirement.

However, caring for Rosie and Opal is only a small part of the picture.  The greater mission of this organization is to educate the public on what is happening to this now endangered species.  Wild Asian elephants are being poached by the thousands for their ivory, a highly-sought-after status symbol in countries like China.  There are currently only about 30,000 of these amazing beasts left in the wild, and at the current rate of destruction, they could likely be extinct by 2020.  That is only 7 years away.  I had no idea the problem was this drastic — in my little world, I just hadn’t noticed.

Surprisingly, this organization has determined that much of the Chinese population is not even aware of where the ivory is coming from.  So the Hope for Elephants group plans to continue to spread their message, not only through any means possible in this country, but also has great ideas like launching an Educational Campaign via Skype to students in China.

As we left the facility, I was struck by the fact that this handful of people in a small rural town in Maine, who are 100% volunteer and exist only by donations, always have their eyes and hearts on something bigger than themselves – literally and figuratively.  They have the true hope, and belief, that they can make a difference in a really big way and are determined to find ways to do it.  (www.hopeelephants.org).

I’m sure that they have their own daily stresses and strains, and just like each of us, have to figure out how to pay their bills, get their children to sports practice, and meet deadlines.  But somehow, they are managing to keep their heads above that water line and seeing a Big Picture — every day.

Who would have thought a fun outing could be so inspiring.  Sure, most of us won’t be finding personal missions that include things like saving a species of elephants, but certainly we could do well to consider there is a big world out there, much of which needs our attention.

After meeting Rosie and Opal and their caregivers, I’m hoping that I will remember a bit more often to lift my head up, put the small stuff into perspective, and take more notice of what part I can play with the big stuff.

 

 

 

 

 

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Cutting Corners

watermelonWe Real Women are busy creatures. Each day we seem to attempt to fit more and more into the same number of hours. We are the Queens of to-do lists, beating deadlines and multi-tasking.  If there is a way to do something quicker, easier and more efficiently, we are all over it.

Not accidentally, there is a plethora of convenience products on the market. There are even companies with full catalogs devoted to the promise of providing “products that make life easier” (www.solutions.com).  Let’s face it, R.W.’s, we are the reason such things exist.

Simply by walking down the grocery store aisle or opening my mail, I can find items like pre-moistened cleaning wipes, sliced blocks of cheese, cooked & seasoned chicken, and a circular brush to remove that pesky silk from corn stalks.  Years ago, when products like these started to appear on store shelves, my initial reaction was of shock:  how lazy does a person have to be to buy that?  But now I realize we are not lazy.  We are busy.

I grew up with a crafty, thrifty stay-at-home mom.  I was also active in 4-H. (Back in those days, 4-H was a regular part of life where we learned valuable domestic skills). Any time we went shopping and came across anything of interest, like clothing, home décor or food, the first question to ask was “can I make this for less at home?”.  Then we actually took the time to go home and construct whatever it was ourselves.

So I find myself at a paradox.  In my head, my first reaction will always be to make something myself from scratch, for better value.  But my reality is I’m busy.  There just aren’t enough hours in the day to follow that home-spun angel of conscience on my shoulder.  The lure of speed and convenience is just too strong.  And so I find myself cutting corners.  I certainly know how to use a traditional mop on my floors, I know how to cut my own food, cook my own chicken, and use my own hands to clean a corn stalk.  However sometimes, just sometimes, I’ll step over to the dark side in favor of saving time.

I must admit that I hit an all-time low in corner-cutting this weekend.  We had a Fall kick-off event at church.  I remembered the night before that we were asked to bring a salad, side dish, or dessert to contribute.  Knowing full well that the tables would be laden with baked goods (we Episcopalians love our sweets), I felt compelled to provide something else.   The “old” me would have planned ahead, and created a large and flavorful green salad, or a veritable cornucopia of cut up fruit.  Instead, the “new” me ran in to the grocery store on the way to church, bought (gasp!) pre-cut watermelon and pineapple, strawberries, and a container of fruit dip.  I literally assembled the fruit in the parking lot, using a disposable tray I had brought from home, and rinsing the strawberries from a water bottle.

Voila.  Ten minutes later I arrived to church with a not-so-elegant contribution.  Perhaps it was the image in my mind of mom’s shocked face, or the pre-church cursing I had done in my car while trying to open the containers, but I felt just a wee bit guilty.  My inner Suzy Homemaker had been replaced by Rushed and Cheating Suzy.

Later as I greeted others during the festivities and watched my son having a great time with the youth group, I realized that no one really cares that I didn’t make something more labor-intensive and from scratch.  There will be another opportunity for me to show off my salad making capabilities in the future. Similarly, at home it doesn’t matter how I got my house clean, just that I got it done in time to hang out with my guys and watch a movie.

How we live our lives has shifted with time.  We cut corners where we need to, and take advantage of conveniences in order to make room for the more important things in life.  This really isn’t a new concept.  After all, wasn’t it Plato who said “Necessity is the mother of invention”?   I’ll bet he wasn’t talking about corn stalk brushes… but he’d probably think they were pretty nifty.

 

 

 

 

 

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Undeniable

inner strengthThe best way to see a Real Woman’s strength is to put her in a situation where she is not comfortable.  Actually, “seeing” the strength is not the right term here, because I’m not talking about physical muscles.  I’m talking about that invisible internal strength that I have witnessed in the Real Women I am blessed to know.

It is easy to be strong and confident when we are in our element, when we are happy with our activities and environment.  We are on top of the world and cruising on auto-pilot.  But put us in a position that is personally challenging, outside our comfort zones, or that goes against our personality, and we have to draw on “toughness reserves” that we often don’t even know we have.

I got thinking about this today because my personality is basically one of a caretaker. I like to make people happy and care about emotions (for those of you familiar with Myers Briggs, I’m a strong J. )  Today at work I had to put on my Manager’s face and make someone very unhappy.  Did I survive?  Of course I did.  Did I feel awful about it?  Of course I did.  Did I ever have a doubt that I couldn’t do what I had to do?  No, I didn’t.

As I drove home, I started thinking about all of the times we women are called upon to take on a different role of some sort, or deal with an uncomfortable situation.  And I thought about the R.W.’s in my life who get through challenging times because of their strength.

I thought about the moms who have had to use tough love on a child, which is nearly unbearably difficult to do.

I thought about the shy woman who had to get up to make a presentation in front of a crowd, and made it through it.

I thought about the women who have been through the end of a marriage or long term relationship, and how they came out stronger on the other side.

I thought about my BFF who battled breast cancer.

I thought about the women who lost their jobs and still found a way to make ends meet.

I thought about my friend who has physical limitations, and for reasons outside of her control, has to move out of her apartment with limited certainty of where she will live in a month.

I thought about the women who have loved ones off fighting wars in foreign countries. Or are the ones doing the fighting.

I thought about the women caring for ill spouses or loved ones.

All of these women have one thing in common: awe-inspiring strength and resiliency.  We may not enjoy having to take on certain roles in our lives, or deal with life’s challenges….but we have no doubts that we can get “get ‘er done” when we need to.

A few years ago my sister gave me a small framed piece of art that I keep on my desk, and I look at it several times a day.  It shows a woman reaching for the stars and it reads “You Will Because You Can.”

I can, because I have so many others in my life who have shown me how true that statement is.  It is undeniable power.

 

 

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Windshield Time

WindshieldAn estimated 34 million Americans will be travelling this Labor Day weekend.  This year, we are among them.  Which means there will be at least three guarantees:  my husband will curse at traffic, we will have a great round of the license plate game (so far sighted: RI, CT, MA, NY, SC, MN, FL, Ohio and Maine), and we will reach our destination feeling stiff with sore butts, backs and knees.

As soon as cars were reliable enough and large enough to cart people across state lines, we Americans found ways to pack far too many bags, belongings and people into a vehicle and get on the road.  No matter the destination, be it family or friends or camping or hotels, we all have to get there first.  Some times enjoying the journey, other times seeing it as a necessary evil.

The preparation before departure is at least half the battle.  There are clothing and car ride activities to pack, house and dog sitters to arrange, trip plans to confirm, and cleaning to do  (yes, ok, I’m one of those who does this so I can come back to a clean house).    Then the round of last minute questions:  “Where is the camera?”  “Did you pack sunglasses?”  “Are the plants watered?”  “Do we have all the chargers for our electronics?” (Because Lord help us if we are completely disconnected for 3 days!).

As an adult who now assumes the role of Commander mobilizing the family army before departure, I’m impressed and a bit amazed at what my mom and dad must have gone through to pack up a family of six for each road trip, which we did a few times a year.

I remember logging a lot of hours with my brother in the “way back” of the station wagon, back in the day when it was considered safe to either put the back seat down and lay back there, or sit facing backwards.  To avoid having to take too many pit stops, my mother limited our liquid intake.  She would pass around grapes to “quench our thirst”, and by the time she got them out of a bag to share, they were warm and unappetizing.  If too many of us complained about either being bored or thirsty, around came ONE can of soda to share.  None of us wanted it right after my mom, because she left lipstick on the rim.  Now that I think about this, I never saw Dad sip from the same can.  Smart man.  Perhaps as the driver he had hidden access to his own supply of grapes or water.

To save time and money, mom, a true Real Woman, would pack lunch or supper in coolers, and we’d stop along the way at a picnic table at a rest stop.  We even had a couple favorite places to stop, which became part of the tradition for certain trips.

I was lucky and always had the ability to read while riding in the car – perhaps growing up on these trips meant we all developed an immunity to car sickness.  So most of the time my nose was buried in a book, or I’d write long entries in my journals.  But we would also listen to stories, sing, and Dad would point out fun things to look at out the window.

As I got a bit older, and started driving for myself – back and forth to college or to visit family and friends – I had that youthful endurance to drive for hours without needing to stop or take a break.  However, in those days the cars we young adults could afford to drive were basic models with no a/c, so we drove with the windows open.  My brother and I used to say that you knew you’d had a successful trip when you arrived at your destination sweaty, deaf and windblown.

Certainly now some things have gotten easier. Cars are more comfortable.  Highways are smoother and more plentiful. Speed limits have increased.  We have accessories and electronics to keep us occupied (my son on his mini iPad, me on my laptop).  We have GPS systems to tell us how to get where we are going.   Although I’m a bit sad about the fact that we’ve lost the adventure of unfolding a paper map and finding our way by following lines and numbers.  I used to love going to AAA to get the latest maps for whatever area we were headed.   Truth be told, I still use paper maps from time to time – partly for nostalgia, partly because I have an odd love of maps, and partly because I’m afraid my son will never learn how to read one.

And yet, with all these modern conveniences, some things don’t change.  We are still closed into a small space together for several hours, finding ways to occupy our time, and getting into conversations that may not have happened otherwise. We have time to think, to play games.  When we take breaks from our activities to gaze out the window, we look at other cars and their inhabitants, wondering about their stories and their destinations.  We see new sights, other parts of America, and we can let our imaginations roam.  I recently admitted to my son that when I was young, I’d look out the car window and imagine a little cartoon stick figure running along side the car, leaping and jumping over guardrails and rocks.  He said “no way!  I do that too!”

So the customs of road trips continue.  God willing, we all will reach our destinations with limited delays, arriving safe and sound with stories to tell and sore bottoms to stretch.  And when we return home it won’t be long before we start planning our next journey.

But for now, it’s time for me to get out some grapes to share.  Yes, mom, the tradition lives on.

 

 

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When Incognito Fails

IncognitoYou know it is going to happen. When you least expect it. You lull yourself into a false sense of security that you will be safe escaping for a short errand, incognito.  You only plan to be out of the house a brief amount of time… or perhaps the hour is early, so you are sure you will go undetected.   You feel safe.  So you venture out in your sweats, no shower, no make-up, no attempt whatsoever to look your best.  And BAM.  You see someone you know.  Or you are somehow called upon to meet someone new whom you’d like to impress, and you are in your least attractive state. Within a blink of an eye you go from brave and comfy to mortified and desperately seeking a place to hide.

To make matters worse in this ironic Murphy’s Law of Real Women, the other people you see look fabulous.  Put together. Stylish. Clean!

Just recently a couple of my Real Women BFF’s have shared their stories of these uncomfortable encounters. One thought it safe to drop her son off to soccer practice.  She did not plan to even exit the car, so she remained in her jammies for the trip.   Not only did she end up having to speak to the Coach, but was asked to come inside to sign papers.  Jammie-Busted!

Another BFF, who happens to be a Doctor, ventured out on a Sunday with her daughter to run some errands.  She, like many of us on a weekend, threw on a tshirt and shorts, no makeup, hair quickly tossed up on her head.  And she ran into 5 different patients as she ran her errands.  Mortified, she decided to lick her wounds by hiding out at the nail salon. Where she immediately saw an ex-coworker.  Work-Life-Busted!

For me, my humility is most often exposed at the grocery store.  I can go to the store directly from work looking great, or pop in after church looking spiffy, and I see no one.  But on those rare occasions when I put on my old sweatpants, baggy shirt, have on my glasses and no makeup, hair in a ratty pony tail — yup, you guessed it, I’ll see at least four co-workers past or present, or neighbors, or… you name it.  And yup, you guessed it again, THEY all look great.  I often wonder if they are thinking as they walk away “the poor dear, she doesn’t look good, do you suppose she’s been sick?  Maybe she’s not getting any sleep….”

We R.W.’s all like to put our best face forward in public, to be looking the best we can, to exude confidence and success.  We secretly hope to look perfectly amazing if we happen to bump into an old boyfriend or past boss or classmate.   In our fantasy world, that is exactly what would happen.  Yet in reality, the odds are somewhat against us.  I know that there are many days that I just don’t have the energy or desire to primp before leaving the house. I just want to be comfortable and relaxed, to just get out, get my errands done, and get back home – undetected.   Such a small thing to ask, isn’t it?

So here’s my proposition. We know we all need to show our R.W. sides to the world from time to time.  Can’t we somehow synchronize our schedules so we can all have comfy-ugly days at the same time?  Perhaps twice a month we can have a day that is deemed Sweatpants and Slovenliness day?   No pretenses, no make-up, no heels…. And rather than hide when we see each other, we can greet each other with an enthusiastic high-five then be on our merry way.

Then the next time we see each other in our best dress,  all sharp and stylish, we will greet each other with an enthusiastic “lookin’ good!” and really mean it.  Because we’ve seen the other side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Best By…

expire date

It seems there are two types of people.  Those who strictly adhere to expiration dates, and those who take them as simply helpful suggestions.  I tend to belong in the second group.  Perhaps it is due in part to my upbringing.  My Dad would lop off the green end of the brick of cheese and proclaim “see? It’s fine!”  My mom kept opened salad dressings in the cupboard, not the refrigerator.  The family cough medicine had been around so long the label had browned. (Then again, in those days, cough medicine was generally about 90-proof, so it probably never lost its impact.)   I grew up understanding phrases like “how expired is it?”  and “well, how does it smell?”

I still adhere to those guidelines for the most part.  If a product is near, at, or just after its stamped date, I give it the sniff test.  I learned this test at a young age. Of course, if you have a head cold, then you move on to the Roulette Game of taste-testing  – which is a much more daring thing to do.  But I digress.  Now, before you run screaming in horror and vow never to eat a bite of food at my house, let me be clear that there are certain food items for which I more or less take expiration dates as gospel:  primarily dairy products.  Milk, for example, when at or after date, is not something to be ignored.  Luckily, with a teenager in our house milk rarely even gets a chance to come close to its cut off date.

However, I do believe the expiration date on other products can be given some leniency.  If bread still smells, looks and feels fresh, I go for it (my husband tends to disagree with me on this one.)   If an herb in my spice rack still smells and looks ok, I’ll use it.  If a condiment has been kept cold in the fridge and hasn’t started to turn green, I’ll probably deem it safe.  I take my eggs out of the carton and store them in one of those nifty plastic egg holders in my refrigerator – so I have no clue what their expiration is – however, I’m certain I’d know if one has become rotten as soon as it is cracked.

Sometimes we have products in our possession that are past their expiration dates simply due to neglect.  Canned goods that get buried in the back of the cupboard can often take up residency, un-noticed, well beyond their prime.  That’s when cleaning out a cupboard can be like an archeological dig, as I dust off the tops of a can of soup or a canned veggie and find out it has been hiding in there longer than we’ve had our dog.   Depending on the age, I may pause and say “I wonder if this is still any good?”.  I take special notice of the wording used with the stamped date.  Does it really say “expires by”, or merely “best if used by..”?    I figure if it is saying “best by…”, then it really is giving me a friendly suggestion.  Kind of like “this may taste like crap, but it won’t kill you.”

Where I really tend to adopt a relaxed attitude is with dates on non-food items, things like over the counter medicines and sunscreen.  I horrified a co-worker not long ago when she came to my office asking if I had an available ibuprofen for a headache. I scrounged around in my desk drawer and began to pull out small bottles with dates from a year or so ago, and little plastic bags in which I had thrown a variety of pills like vitamins, Tylenol and the like… the only problem being, of course, that I was no longer quite sure what was what nor how old any of them were.  My co-worker was aghast, and wouldn’t leave my office until she was quite certain I had disposed of the drug menagerie appropriately.  Clearly, she is from that first group of people I mentioned, those that strictly adhere to dates.  But really, what could go wrong with an outdated aspirin?  Worst case, it wouldn’t cure that headache.  But could it really “go bad”?

Recently, through bad planning on my part, I was rather desperate for something to eat for breakfast while at work.  In my hunt for sustenance, I came across one of those one-serving packets of oatmeal in my drawer. You know the type, a small plastic sealed cup, add hot water and you have truly instant breakfast.  I was thrilled.  I flipped it over and read that the “Best by” date was 7 months past.  I paused and thought “could it really be that bad?  It is oatmeal. Dried flakes with dried apple bits, in a hermetically sealed container.”  And, again, it was that friendly phrase “best by”.  So I went for it.  And it was fine.  Didn’t taste any different than if I’d heated one I had bought yesterday.

I got to thinking about how reliant we’ve become on expiration dates to rule our use of products.  We assume that they are placed there by some quality control expert, working for the manufacturer and adhering closely to guidelines set by the FDA.  But in reality, isn’t it some stranger somewhere working a date stamping machine?  Are we letting that stranger tell us whether or not to use a product, rather than relying on our own common sense?

I hope we never get to the point where we humans were stamped with expiration dates.  What if my forehead was stamped with “2050”?   Would I reach the ripe age of 85 and be cast aside because I had expired?   Hopefully if we ever get to that point, rather than “expired”, my stamp would read “best by.”   I can live with that – I may be at my best before I hit that age, but I’d like to think I still have a few good years in me.

 

 

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Of Tourism and Thresholds

barrel photo“I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.”—Susan Sontag

Most of our leisure travel time is spent visiting family and friends. Like so many other real families, our loved ones are scattered around the country….so spending time in person requires travel.  As much as we miss everyone and want to see them, my husband and I decided after our son was born that once or twice a year we would go on “just us” family vacations.  Our goal is general to go someplace where we’ve either never been, or haven’t see in many years.  Usually these vacations are focused on three things: relaxation, time together away from the usual daily distractions, and exploring.

Depending on location, available time and budget, we will include a popular tourist attraction or two, especially for our son’s benefit.  But the tourist attraction is not the destination for us – just a fun add-on.  In other words, we don’t always aim to be especially “touristy.”

This past weekend was an exception to that rule. We took a short vacation to an area which is 100% touristy:  Niagara Falls Canada.  Neither my husband or I had been there in over 20 years – and the natural wonder of the Falls never ceases to amaze with their power and beauty. Yet surrounding them is every form of “TTT” (Totally Tacky Touristy) activity one can imagine – all in the name of fun and remarkable expense.

As the typical R.W. and Family Planner, I did my best to mentally prepare us all to take this slight departure from our normal vacation of peaceful camping trips or beach lounging.  We enthusiastically felt prepared to enter the Tourist Zone.  For the most part, I can report that we three held up to the challenge.  We visited wax museums to have our photos taken with replica celebrities, we donned rain ponchos to experience a 4D theater reenactment of the creation of the Falls, we soared 700 feet up in a tower for incredible views, we sat on a bench and ate ice cream in the bustling part of town that looks like Las Vegas and Times Square got together and gave birth to an illegitimate love child….and we joined thousands of other visitors to feel the water and mist on our faces and took dozens of photos.  We marveled at the “melting pot of humanity” that a location like Niagara Falls attracts.  There were several moments where we were surrounded by so many different languages that we were the only ones speaking English.   Apparently curious people from all over the world come together to see 35 million gallons of water per minute rush by.

We did have fun.  Yet we each hit our Thresholds of TTT at different times. For my husband, his threshold was being trapped in an elevator full of strangers 500 feet above the Falls. For my son, it was the miles of walking in between crowded venues.  As for me, it was the noisy hotel neighbor at 1:30 a.m. and the need for space and tranquility.  So on Day 3 of our trip, we sought out quieter, more relaxed open spaces like a Botanical Garden and scenic stops further downstream.

As we get older and wiser, we are better able to predict our reactions to certain circumstances. Hence why this was a shorter trip – we knew that 3 ½ days would feel like enough. We know now when to take breaks from the hustle and crowds, when to retreat to our hotel room for quiet rest time, and how to add time to our travel plans for enough “detox” time back at home.   We have come to recognize and respect our Thresholds and when we’ve had enough – before we sour a good time.

Within one hour of being back home, my husband was out doing yard work, I was off for a bike ride, and my son was reconnecting with his friends and his video games.  All things were back to normal.  After all, we are a real family – and something can be said about recognizing Togetherness Thresholds as well.

“A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.”  — G.A. Moore

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Just Pile It On

There are plenty of feel-good quotes out there that speak to the strength of women… that we were created as strong beings so we could endure child birth…that we have emotional strength for our children and spouses…that we can be athletes…and that we can maintain our households and still work full time – we can “bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan”.

pack muleI believe there is another reason we were created to be strong, tough, and resilient that is often overlooked.  It is because we are called upon to be Pack Mules.  We are the family carriers of stuff.   Our purses are crammed with any possible item we or our loved ones could possibly need at a moment’s notice.  Each day we live as if we’ll be called from the audience of “Let’s Make A Deal” to show that we have some obscure but handy item in our possession.  And our purses are just the beginning… going on a trip or a family outing?  Give everything to Mom, the Pack Mule.

Watch any woman who is the mother of small children manage a family outing to the zoo, park or beach, and you’ll see someone who has taken her Pack Mule talents to all new levels.  She is prepared for anything and she is carrying, pushing or pulling three times her own weight.   Even venturing out on smaller outings with family members will mean that the R.W.  will hear things like “honey, can you put these keys in your purse?”  or “mom, can you carry my jacket?”  or “can you fit this souvenir in your bag?” We certainly wouldn’t want anyone else’s arms to get weary, or have their pockets weigh them down, so why not add another 5 pounds to our shoulders?

Sadly, we are often our own worst enemies when it comes to our Pack Mule roles.  For example, when I head to my office each day, I look like some sort of professional bag lady.  I don’t just carry my work bag and my purse – no, I also have my lunch bag, my walking clothes for lunch time breaks, and my workout bag for post-work exercise.  Then throw in any other extras from time to time, and I’m weighed down with bags hanging off my shoulders, in my hands, even pinned under my arms.  God Forbid I take more than one trip to my car.  That would be a sign of weakness.  Mind you, to get to my office I have to open two doors and go up a flight of stairs… so the comedy of my balancing act is second only to the different body parts used to open and prop up the doors.  In heels, no less.

At home it is no better.  If we are cleaning the house, how many of us pick up random objects because they need to be put away and soon find ourselves with arms full?  Just like my attempt to make one trip from my car to the office, we will do whatever it takes to carry as much as possible at once to avoid extra trips.  Just carrying a laundry basket isn’t enough – we need to throw in some cleaning products, or pet toys, or books, or…. the possibilities are endless.  When emptying the dishwasher, how many of us will attempt to balance more glassware in our arms than a experienced waiter?  Or if heading out to do yard work, how many of us carry, push, or pull all the yard tools we’ll need in one trip to the garden?  One of my Real Women BFF’s described to me the other day how she was attempting to once again carry far too much upstairs at the end of the night. She had bags slung over both shoulders, arms full, even a floppy hat perched on her head.  Her teen son stopped in his tracks, amazed at this vision of his mom.  Did he offer to take some things off her hands?  Nope. He whipped out his smart phone and snapped a photo of her.

Yes, we can be curious creatures.  Interestingly, when I looked up a definition for mules in general, I discovered descriptions indicating that they possess an even temper, patience and endurance. They are highly intelligent, curious by nature and can carry 20 – 30% of their body weight long distances.

Hmmm…. Sounds kind of familiar, doesn’t it?  I think I’ll ponder that point while I carry my armload of stuff upstairs for the night.

 

 

 

 

 

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