How to Stop “The Drift”

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“I used to be fierce,” she said.  ”I don’t know what happened.”

“I fell into a career I didn’t really want,” he said.  ”It’s too late to change now.”

Have you, like my two friends, ever woken up one morning wondering, “How did I get here?”

American philosopher and writer, Henry David Thoreau, said, “Our life is frittered away by detail.”  As task oriented people, it’s easy for us to move from one “thing” to the next until we wind up in a place we don’t recognize.  Or even like.

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It’s “The Drift.”  And it can happen to any of us.  And it usually happens slowly.

Like a boat tied too loosely to the dock, we can drift away from our moorings.  Slowly, slowly, the waves of life rock us, push us, nudge us . . . and eventually the knot pulls out and we drift gradually out to sea.  Eventually, we can drift so far out to sea that shore is no longer in sight. Continue reading →

Personal Space

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We Americans like our space. Our country developed upon the promise of space, as our land, it seemed, went on forever.  We like to stretch out, stake a claim, spread wide, stretch our legs.

Sometimes, though, we need reminders that we need to give each other more space, back off, skooch over, step away.  We have signs and lines and ropes declaring that patrons “wait here” in order to give privacy to those ahead of us.  At the bank.  At the library.  At the DMV.  At our old Blockbuster Video.

But not, apparently, at Redbox video machines.  And those side “Quick Return” slots beckon–they tempt us to cross over, to invade, to step up, to skooch in.

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And I am not a fan of strangers skooching in on my personal space.

The other day, in my local Walgreens as I tapped the Redbox screen to choose The Descendants, I jumped when a man suddenly stepped toward the “Quick Return” slot at my elbow, literally almost on my elbow.  Seriously, I could have touched him with my elbow.

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Parenting Cool

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I almost lost my cool yesterday afternoon while helping my son study for a Spanish quiz.  He kept making the same mistakes on something we’ve been studying for about three weeks. Or more.

When was the last time you lost your cool with your kids?  If you answered, “Gosh, so long ago I can’t even remember,” then PLEASE do share your secrets, because we’d really like to know (but also we probably won’t believe you and we will all secretly hate you–so there’s that).

So yesterday, in my growing frustration, my voice started doing funny things:  the volume went UP and the pitch went HIGH and I started saying something like, “C’mon, we’ve been studying this for three weeks!  Can’t you see that Spanish verbs are not masculine or feminine?!  An ‘o’ ending goes with the subject pronoun ‘yo’ and an ‘a’ ending goes with the subject pronoun ‘el/ella/usted’!”

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B.Y.O. . . .

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I’m at Starbucks, writing, as writers do, and sipping an expensive coffee drink.  Tonight it’s my special mocha mix:  2 1/2 pumps mocha with 2 pumps vanilla for smoothness, fat-free milk, no whip. I’ll be here for a while, writing and sucking up free wi-fi, so I feel bound to spend a bit of money.  Later, I might get something else I don’t need, like, say, a slice of marble loaf . . .

But there’s that guy, you know that guy, he’s sitting in the comfy leather chair with his laptop, sipping water in a reusable plastic container from home, BPA-free, I’m sure, and munching on a granola bar, also from home.  He’s the Bring-Your-Own-Drinks-and-Snacks-to-the-Coffee-Shop-While-You-Use-Their-Wi-Fi-for-Free guy.

I’m not against B.Y.O. to a point.  For example, I might sneak a bottle of water into the movie theater and sip it while I gorge on theater popcorn.  I might also bring my own water to Panera, say, and drink it along with my Pick-Two lunch of soup and salad.  The point is that I buy something, in fact I spend more than what I save with my contraband water-from-home.

But this guy, he never buys anything.  I’ve seen him, time after time, pulling snack after snack out of his messenger bag.  Munch, munch.  Click, click.

What do you think of that guy?  Is he breaking an unwritten rule?  Do we admire his resourcefulness?  Are YOU that guy?

Why I Hate “Rudy”

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I hate the movie Rudy.  Really, I do.  Mostly, I hate what the movie purports to teach kids about setting goals and what it takes to succeed.

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Disliking a movie like Rudy, where an underdog triumphs against seemingly insurmountable odds,  makes me almost un-American, doesn’t it?

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Busy-ness and Silence

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My calendar used to be so full there was nary an unscheduled, white space in it.

This board meeting, that networking group, this event, that book club, this church group.  A home business, business team meetings, master-mind calls, webinars.  I’d start a weekly business group here and a bi-monthly women’s mentoring group there.  I’d swoop in and volunteer two hours of time here, four hours there, plus an extra quarterly leaders’ meeting over there.

I scheduled all of these commitments around my full-time job of homeschooling my son.

Plus, reading for pleasure, reading for personal development, reading for spiritual growth, exercising, caring for five dogs, being a wife, mom, friend, sister, cooking nutritious meals, keeping the house clean (or not so clean, or just clean enough not to completely repel a visitor) . . .

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New Year, Same Old You

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I’ve failed at more New Year’s Resolutions than I’ve kept.  And I’m not ashamed to say it.

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In the past, I’ve resolved to:

  • eat less chocolate
  • eat less, period
  • exercise more
  • exercise at all
  • eliminate debt
  • keep my house cleaner
  • lose weight
  • spend more time with friends
  • spend more time with family
  • spend less
  • eliminate caffeine
  • cut down on caffeine
  • research caffeine to see its reported “ill-effects” are real
  • work on my marriage
  • have more patience with my son
  • read the Bible

I failed miserably at most of these resolutions.

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Dogs on the Couch

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We have a rule in our house:  no dogs on the couch.

So, why am I vacuuming dog hair off the furniture?

Maximus on the couch, eyes averted. Photo by Debra Hanlon

As you can see in the photo above, Maximus (all 105 pounds of him) feels quite comfortable on the couch and especially enjoys resting his big head on a pillow.  This does not look like a “No Dogs on the Couch” house.  At all.

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Must Have Chocolate

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Yesterday, John was in the kitchen compiling a mini-grocery list. It was one of those “just the essentials” sort of grocery runs.  I munched on the last of the chocolate chips, one of my favorite pasttimes, as we talked about the “musts”:  eggs, milk, bread, lettuce, potatoes.

We were in the midst of a “spending control” cycle in which we focused on watching what we spent and where we spent it. We were tightening the belt, pinching pennies, sticking to a budget.

“I’m almost out of chocolate chips,” I said, “but I don’t need more until next week.”

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Need.   I said it.  Because my chocolate chip pumpkin muffins are a necessity and so is the economy size bag of brown morsels with plenty left to indulge upon.

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