New Year's Resolu-Dos

In two days, it will be time to make resolutions.  Or, to pretend to have made resolutions.  Maybe we'll dress them up and call them goals.  Ask yourself this: Are you setting yourself up to succeed or fail?

My resolution one year was to go to the gym three times a week.  The second I didn't, I failed.  Or, I'd play games with myself.  "Next week is busy.  If I go five times this week, I can go once next week and it will be OK."  The year that I promised myself to make healthier choices and worked with a nutritionist for support, I was more successful.  I didn't tie the success to a calendar or a pass/fail system.

I find myself to be more accountable to actions tied to state of mind than measurable by something tangible.  If you are interested in a similar path, here are some tips.

1.  Check out Daily Alchemy's post on 4 Steps to Creating a Magical New Year.  I appreciate the section on "Following Your Bliss."  You do not need to go to a place of worship for the ceremony referenced in the blog.  (And...don't set yourself on fire.)

2.  Need more positive people in your life?  Find and follow them on social media.   Enjoy a daily dose of joy while stalking a celebrity or arguing over which is better- dogs or cats.  (Um...both are awesome.  Debate over.  Civility reigns supreme.)  Read The Happiness Project, visit its website, or follow author Gretchen Rubin on Twitter or Facebook.  100 Ways to Happiness by Dr. Timothy Sharp is another motivating read.

3.  Consider the concept of PostSecret by Frank Warren.  I've read the books for years and now follow the community online.  There is something to be said for sharing or letting go of an aspect of your past when you are ready for it.  (Or, seeing a licensed professional if you are not and want to be.)

4.  I'm often surprised by what I find at the end of list making.  I like the following prompt from List Your Self by Segalove and Velick:  “List those risks you'd like to take but are afraid to.”  (I'm a little scared of: “List what you hear when you get very quiet.”  I'm saving that for when I'm big!)

5.  Whatever your action, consider building in support.  Bring in a professional when the task requires it and if finances allow.  Or, have an accountability pal that you consult with every 4-6 weeks.  Celebrate your successes as you have them.  Adjust your path if you need to.  Don't give up!

Make sure you have a Resolu-Do state of mind and Resolu-Don't have your failure stick ready to measure before you take your first step.

What's your Resolu-do?

All I Want...

On this Christmas Eve, I anxiously look to the sky- just in case I see him.  (Ever since watching Santa Claus in 1985, I've wanted to err on the side of caution.)  After all, if NORAD is tracking him, you can't be too safe.

Do you remember writing your Christmas list to Santa and putting complicated things on it to test him?  I do.  Here's my list for this year.  

Dear Santa,

• I would like a coffee fairy to deliver a daily dose to my workspace at 1:30.  One sugar, light on the cream.  This is the best part of my day and a bonus cup would make it all the better.
• I would like a garage for snowy days.  Or, a chauffeur.  Your call.
• I would like grownups to stop being mean to each other, about each other, and on behalf of one another.
• I would like for Jonathan Maberry and Stephen King to write a bedtime story for me.  I would like Jon Stewart to introduce it and Ellen Degeneres to narrate it.  All while Channing Tatum interprets it through dance.

And, now, for the most complicated item.  I simply want to be happy.  Not happy because I have stuff.  Not happy because I can get more stuff.  But happy because I continue to accept each day as a gift and after a less than perfect day, I know I can always start over.

(But, if that's too hard...I'll take the bedtime story.)

What's on your list?

The Imperfect Ten

Who decided that a 10 was the perfect score and why is there pressure to be a 10?  Once you are a 10, there's a risk of phoning it in and not trying anymore.  Let's face it- we can all stand to improve a little more and we will all benefit from the effort.  Each day should reset at a 0 and our goal should be to work up to a 9.99999.  At home.  In our community.  With our children, friends, and loved ones.  (You can throw work into the mix if you want.)  Most of all?  Within ourselves.  I vow to never be a perfect 10.

How about you?

"Who's your doctor?"

"Who's your doctor?"
Response A- Blurts out family doctor.
Response B- "There's nothing wrong with me!"
Response C- Says the name of one of 12-14ish possibilities associated with Doctor Who.
Thanks, A.  See you soon, B, (with my clipboard and pen in hand…).  Helloooooooo, C!

Matt Smith's appearance as the Doctor was my entrance into the series.   I was hooked from fish fingers and custard.  If you would have asked me who my Doctor was, my response would have been clear.  Smith.  As the 50th anniversary loomed, I binge-watched from the first episode of the new series.  Christopher Eccleston became MY Doctor.  My heart broke for him.  Then, David Tennant was on the scene.  Wait- HE'S my Doctor.   (Come on- he did that horrible thing to his people because he HAD to and then had to pretty much do it AGAIN when You Know Who came back.)  But, then, I watched some of Matt Smith's finest hours again.  (His goodbye to the redhead?  Well, to both redheads…)

I cannot commit to just one Doctor.  The beauty of the show is you can watch the series in order and appreciate all of the inside jokes/continuous storylines OR you can watch it out of order- the episodes stand on their own as do the players.

That got me thinking.  If I do not have to view my Doctors in any order, how about my past?  I don't have a TARDIS (to travel back and forth in time and space for my non Whovians).  But I have an excellent memory.  Do I have to remember events in a specific sequence or can I watch the highlights?  If someone Hurt me in the past, does that negate all of the good memories?

How does changing the order in which we view things impact our perception of them?  And of ourselves?  Instead of worrying about glasses being half full or empty or being Rose colored, perhaps we should wear rear view mirrored monoculars so we don't forget.  I often hear people say we should look at the big picture.  If I've learned anything from watching Doctor Who it's that some timey-wimey stuff definitely impacts the bigger picture and it deserves a closer look.  (And...bow ties ARE cool.)

“Wanna Be FRiends?”

A wonderful FRiend is making her new house a home.  I remember my experience when I was in the market for a house and the lessons I learned.

1. There are wants and non-negotiable items.  I wanted central air.  Non-negotiable?  No dirt basements.  (Too many places to hide my body.  Remember, I’ve watched Lifetime.)
2. Fixer-Upper and “As Is”: These are different.  We barely had a budget to buy a house; we did not have a budget for repairs.  Or decorating.  I fantasized about appliances that worked, a roof that did not leak, and animal-potty-free floors.  A home warranty took care of the first two; elbow grease the other.  (For the record- I took off wallpaper.  I took off some drywall with that wallpaper...)
3. The process is slow and fast all at once.  Maybe you are looking and maybe your are Looking.  I cried like a baby when our bid was accepted- convinced we could not do it.  (I also had a 101 degree fever and strep throat, so...)  All of a sudden- it evolved from a listing, to a contender, to a This-Is-It-Keep-Your-Fingers-Crossed, to Our Home. 

Advice abounds on what to look for when buying a home.  But what about when we are in the market for a friend?  Making new friends as an adult can be challenging but many of the above lessons do apply.

1. Know your wants and non-negotiables.  Do you want a friend (light fun, socializing) or a Friend (includes 3AM texts and breakfast without makeup)?  Will you accept gossip (lighthearted, slice of life stories) but not Gossip (has an edge of nastiness best left behind with our lockers)?
2. It’s rare that as adults we meet new adults, unpack our emotional baggage, and say “Here I am” the way we did as kids with our crates or pillowcases full of G.I. Joes, Legos, or Barbies.  As our new friends peel their layers before us, the unspoken expectation is the same- “I’m trusting you not to break my stuff.”  It’s not our job to fix our new Friends as if they had leaking roofs.  But we can show them the leak and see if they can find the source.  Maybe hold the flashlight?
3. How do we navigate the process of evolving from acquaintance to friend and from friend to Friend without paperwork and witnesses?  And what about the FRiend?  The one you haven’t seen since your wedding and suspect has been buried in a dirt floor basement (SEE?) but then shows up at your mother’s funeral?  Or the one that jumps from friend to FRiend when she comes to your rescue in a medical situation?  How do we maintain our relationships with our FRiends without depleting our emotional budgets?  What do we do when a FRiend changes to a Friend or to a friend or worse, an acquaintance?  

Unlike house hunting, we do not have a realtor to guide us through the friendship process.  You have to be your own Relate-or (new word!).  Manage your listings.  Make your own repairs- don’t subcontract out.  And...wipe off your feet when the welcome mat is rolled out.  You’d be surprised how hard it is to get the tread marks off.

A Tale of Two Suzies

A poem originally crafted from my grandmother's point of view inspired this week’s post.  These are impressions formed from my memories as a little girl and stories told to me over time.  This bit from "She Remembers" called to me.  

She remembers her niece Susie S-U-S-I-E with eyes as black as marbles.  
She had a stomach ache and a stuffed animal in the hospital.  
The stuffed animal came home.  
She remembers, years later, when Suzie with a Z was born into a family with a legacy of loss.  
Great aunt never met thanks to a car that never stopped.
One great uncle claimed by the ocean; One that never returned from a trip to the corner store.
She remembers to tell her granddaughter to turn the tide.  
And, I try.

Susie died early on in childhood, a complete generation before I was born.  I’ve misplaced an old article detailing her hospital stay and reaction of people.  The exact cause of her illness shifts depending upon which family member tells the tale.  The photograph is haunting- a little girl and her animal.  When I was younger, I would see her in my sleep.  

Her own mother never discussed her with me.  She would take me for lunch and movie dates when I was slightly older than her Susie.  I would giggle and prattle.  She would stroke my hair and say, “My Suzie.”  Or, maybe it was, “My Susie.”

I’ve always had a drive to make my life count, to make a difference.  To be worthy.  No one ever said to me that I needed to live a life worthy of two Suzies.  But...I’ve tried.

Comma Optional

Sliding my finger under the flap.  Slowly pulling the card from the envelope.  Skip the date, the place, the for who...  Is it?  Is it?  YES!  Black tie optional.

I love black tie optional.  Tuxedos with or without bow ties.   Dresses with matchy-match shoes.  It's like going to the Oscars for a night.  If you want to.

If you don't want to, the unwritten rule is: Don't be a slob.  Hence, the optional.

I'm not as much a fan of black tie required or requested.  It can be an unnecessary expense and I would be sad to know someone couldn't join in a joyous event because of a hardship.

This is exactly how I feel about commas.  (Not to be confused with COMAS- those should never be optional, required, or requested.)

There are so many rules for commas.  I used to have them all memorized and mastered.  In my professional field, I ABSOLUTELY follow the rules.    I'm a wide reader.  That's not a reflection of my waistline but the amount of text I've read.  Being exposed to so many authors, most have a command of commas.  Some stylistically avoid them unless they're really dependent on them.  (HAH!)   Then...we come to the gems that could have used a little more polish.  Just like people, I don't walk away if the message is good despite the delivery.

To be honest, I spend so much energy on being as perfect during my work day as possible (cross t, not I; mind my p's & q's; make sure clients & colleagues come first).  It's nice to blog without formality.  My revisions and edits tend to focus on word checks (Blast you, Humpback of Notre Dame) and did I use -ly right (probably not).

Just like me at a black tie optional wedding (pretend Oscars event in my head), my content is still worthwhile (I hope) even if I go with the optional.  I try not to come across as if a slob.  (The sick and purring cat on my lap who is responsible for my typos and lack of energy to troll for them agrees.)

And, my shoes might not be perfectly matchy-match, but they have style.

Letting Go

I had a different blog planned for this weekend.  Life throws us curveballs.

I've been writing throughout the week (see below) about our experience with our fur face, Angel- through her eyes- as we prepared for her departure.  I wasn't writing for an audience.  I simply needed to process what was happening and ensure we were doing right by her.  I posted it on Facebook to release it.  To purge it.  I thought maybe three people would be concerned.

I was wrong.

An amazing thing happened.  Support poured in.  People (and their cats) sent us private messages.  Someone said she shared the Angel Action updates with a friend in the hopes that it would help her.  It helped me.

My mother lost her own fight with cancer this summer.  She battled for almost two years.  I'm still not prepared to discuss it.  During that time, I reached out to a very small circle and crafted email updates to process/keep them informed.  My mother left this earth cared for by hospice, physically comforted by her friends at her new home, and assured that she had closure with her family.

And now...well, I'm sure she has my cat.

Whether you process your challenges alone, with a small circle, or a wider forum is irrelevant.  Your challenge may be the health of family, friend, spouse or pet.  Perhaps you have a fabulous job but it is no longer fulfilling.  Maybe balancing all arenas of your life isn't all that it was once cracked up to be.  It doesn't matter.  You aren't weak for reaching out and sharing your experience.  Someone else may be stronger for it.  You may be surprised by the love and support you receive.

I look forward to writing about the lessons I've learned from Angel when my heart is less heavy.  Until then, I've included all of "Angel's" thoughts from this week at the close of this entry.

I don't think you have to be an animal person to open your heart to the idea of preparing to let go.

Angel Action 

Day #1 11/11/13

The man and the lady brought me back from the V-E-T. I'm not happy. You may think it is because I have lymphoma in my organs. Nope. The lady just tried to give me a pill- Feline Immune System Support. She even put it in tuna. I may be sick but I'm stubborn. She even sat with me in the bathroom so that the boy "Karma No" and the girl "Patches, Where's Patches?" wouldn't eat it. I made my lady proud and just meowed No. 

See? "Patches, Where's Patches?" was happy happy to eat it.

Meows and Hisses,

"Angel Momma"

Day #2 11/12/13

I overheard the lady say, "My cat has cancer so I get to eat walnuts." I have no idea what she is meowing about.

My legs are wobbly today. I couldn't get onto my cat perch, so the man helped me. I tried to get down...the man built an obstacle course to help me. "Karma no" was inspecting for safety violations.

The lady came home and had me try can after can of Fancy Feast. She even gave me sardines. Just don't want to eat. I licked some peanut butter. Then, the lady added something to it. I stopped. She squirted drops down my throat and shoved a pill in there, too. Now, I'm camped out under the black chair. Invisible. (I may have spit my pill out in the litter box. Not telling.)

Meows and hisses,

"Angel Momma"

Day #3 11/13/13

The lady woke up at 5AM and pulled me from my secret hiding spot. She mumbled something about a burrito and then I was trapped in a towel. I'm weak but feisty. I tried very hard to bite the lady. I got my front paws free! The lady gave me my witch's brew & then I heard her say, "Hiss! I gave her the wrong pill!" (PS. She didn't say "hiss" but you get the idea.)

The man and the lady took me for an emergency visit after talking to Dr. Soares because I puked bile a few times. I would puke rainbows and unicorns if I could! I love Dr. Soares. Except when she touches me. Talks to me. Says "subcutaneous fluids" and "more shots" and "pill pockets" and such. 

All of the rooms at the inn were full so we were hanging in the bereavement room. They apologized but the lady and the man were OK. Besides, they used to hang out there when they met "Karma No." 

I lost a pound since Friday. After shots and pills, the man and the lady were taught to inject me with fluids tonight. THANKS A LOT! Dr. Hernandez talked to my people about their options. As soon as they said "terminal" and "short term care" I knew I had to show off a bit.

I love my people, especially the man. I know his heart is broken but I have to go to heaven to see the lady's mommy. She's been there alone since the summer and needs a cat.

I'm not leaving yet! Have some stuff to do at home. I have to show "Karma No" and "Patches, where's Patches" the best places to vomit and make sure they are going to be good to each other. I'll spend a nice day Saturday with the man and the lady. Then, we will see.

Meows and Hisses, 

"Angel Momma"

Day #4 11/14/13

I hate shots. I HATE pills. But, I was a little hungry last night. I wasn't sure that I wanted anything. The lady put 6 different bowls in front of my hiding spot. I heard "Karma No" eating and remembered how we ate together. So, I kept the kid company and licked a plate. 

My people have been up since 3:30AM and they continued on with their day. The man stayed here with me so I missed my NPR programs.

The lady sang my favorite song to me when she got home.

(To the tune of "Free Fallin" by Tom Petty):

"She's a good girl. She loves her mama. Loves Patches and Karma, too. She's Angel................Angel Bichovsky-Thomas." She kisses me on my neck and I purr while wet things fall from her eyes. She whispers, "Is this right? Is this time? What if..." I blink at her to tell her it's fine. I know the lady thinks I like the man better. But I secretly love her best because she brushes me.

I'm starting to get excited! I remeowbered that I'm going to see "Princess? Who's a pretty Princess?" in two days. She was the Cat Who Got Her Meow Back when I was born. We used to live together at a Silk Mill. It was a cool place. We would chase each other up and down a spiral staircase and watch birds all day from our floor to ceiling windows. 

Our people bought us a house and we played there, too. Until "Princess? Who's a pretty Princess?" didn't come home one day. My people said she went to play at a rainbow bridge and I'd see her again. The lady said I'd also see my cousin "Tat! Who's a crazy Tat!" there, too. I never met her. I heard she was very grumpy but very sweet at the same time. She knew "Princess? Who's a pretty Princess?" I hope they let me play...

Gotta go! Thinking about hiding. (The man and the lady said something about fluids.)  But, I think I will stay. We are all camped out in the living room on the sofa bed. And, we have American Horror Story to get through...

Meows and Hisses,

"Angel Momma"

Day #5 11/15/13

Tomorrow's the day. I'm going to the Rainbow Bridge. It should be a piece of treat. I'm a great traveler. I used to go to the shore a lot when I was younger. I would sneak in and sleep under "Marty!"'s bed and he would sneeze. It was fun! I also used to go with the lady to visit "The Granny" at her apartment. She was 90. The lady would get upset to find me in the cupboard in a bowl. But not "The Granny." "She can do anything she wants when she's at 'The Granny's'" is what she would say.

I never got to meet the lady's mom but I heard that she adores cats. The lady's mom was really sick, too, and she went to her own bridge this summer. There is a silly song on the radio called Cups. The lady was hearing it a lot when her mom was sick. "You're gonna to miss me when I'm gone," was a sad lyric for her to hear and she still cries a little bit when she hears it. She said that she was driving to work this morning and she cried about me over this lyric, "You're gonna to miss me by my hair." The lady must be playing with my catnip.

The man turned off the heat and opened up the window today. I sat on my perch and checked out my backyard. I needed to make sure all the birds are taken care of and my butterfly plants are OK.  I hope that "Patches, where's Patches?" and "Karma no" will look out for stinkbugs...

I hope that my people do better tonight. They fell asleep before 9 o'clock yesterday. Lame! The lady said something this morning about maybe watching the Suzie and Chuck video tonight. "Princess? Who's a pretty Princess?" is on it. The man said something about stabbing himself in the eyeballs.

The other cats better get their acts together. I've put up with the young one licking me and the other one sniffing me. But they're not as good to the lady as I am. The boy will only let the lady hold him if she standing up. And the girl will never let the lady hold her. The lady's lap is going to be awfully empty without me and I hope that they figure out that she needs them. 

It's my job to greet her every day after work when she comes in the door. I sit on her lap when I'm ready and she tells me about her day. I know the people aren't going to get another cat. They're a two cat household with three fur faces. When "Princess? Who's a pretty Princess?" left for the bridge, I was all alone and I only ever knew having a fur friend. So, the man and the lady got me "Patches, where's Patches?" She is a very special cat and is very set in her ways. "Karma no" was an unplanned fur face but they really love him. I get it. He's sweet. I finally stopped trying to kill him when I realized he was licking me because he loved me. Don't tell him I said this! (Paw swear?) But I kind of love him, too. Or, I'm mildly indifferent to him.

Gotta get my beauty sleep! I already took nap #100 today on the lady's lap. She laid on the sofa bed with me and I crawled onto her all by myself. It was hard to nap because I was purring so loud! Then, the man come home and he laid with us. His eyes were leaking as he asked if we were doing the right thing. The lady pet us both and said, "We are doing it for her. She's leaving us purring. What could be better?"

I thank everyone (and their fur faces) for their nice words and prayers. I never met most of you. Be kind to my people. Maybe rub their bellies, between their eyes above their noses, or under their chins. Those are the best spots!

Meows and Kisses,

"Angel Momma" 

Day #6 11/16/13

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened. ” - Anatole France

“If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.” – James Herriot

“Don’t cry because it’s over, Smile because it happened.” - Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss)

Just Playing

If you have children, work with children, know children, or were once a child, then...you are familiar with the following phrase.  "We were just playing."

Punched someone in the face?   "We were just playing."

Threaten to stab your brother?   "We were just playing."

Ripped the head off of your friend's doll, prompting an epic smack down between two moms?  Oops!   "We were just playing."

I can't help but wonder if I could apply this philosophy to my adult life.

Forget to pay the mortgage?   "We were just playing."

Don't show up at work for a week or fail to get a project done?   "We were just playing."

Hurt someone close to you?   "We were just playing."

The problem with "just playing" is that both parties need to be in on the game and know what the rules are.

What's your game?  What are your rules?  And, most important...have you clued people into them?

Have a great week and remember to play fair.

HallowSanta

Halloween is my ultimate holiday.  We had a Halloween themed wedding, a pumpkin of mints sits on my workspace all yearlong, and we don't take our decorations down until after Thanksgiving.   We have a zombie in our yard who stays until the snow starts to fall.  

I am a Hard Core Halloweenite.  Why?

I can remember celebrating Halloween with my cousin Maxine as a little girl.  Maxine was forty years my senior.  She would dress me up and take me trick-or-treating.  But it was the Santa experience I remember best.

*****Spoliers- shouldn't be read by those working on their Christmas lists!******

Once upon a time, Maxine took me to the mall to see Santa.  I was VERY young.  I believe the story goes we waited in line and, when I saw him... I screamed my face off.

On another once upon a time, Maxine borrowed a Santa suit complete with wig, beard- whole nine years from a coworker.  She dressed up as Santa, bit by bit, in front of me.   Complete with facial hair.

And...I screamed my face off again.

This story has been told to me over the years.  I do remember two things: screaming at the final transformation and calming down when I saw her eyes.

I knew her eyes.

I think that was when I learned you can tell a lot about someone by their eyes.  People can cover up with clothing, makeup, and beards.  They can modify facial expressions.  But, unless you're using contacts, you can't change your eyes.

Enjoy the Season of HallowThankChanukaMas and be sure to be on the lookout for leftover Zombies, Santa's helpers, and people who hide their eyes from you.  (PS.  Pirates RRRRRRRRR exempt!)

I Live Your Thoughts

I'm writing this post on a smartphone app as we travel to Homecoming.  For those of you considering robbing my home, you should know that I am 2-3 weeks ahead in my writing.  (I'm assuming that we had an awesome time at Homecoming, despite the olive incident...)

Autocorrect is an awesome feature.  Due to my Humpback of Notre Dame sized thumb and the QWERTY Genius who decided to put the U&I&O keys next to one another, I am often in need of autocorrect support.  But, sometimes, the corrections are unfounded.  The most common and unnecessary autocorrection for me?  LOVE corrected to LIVE.  I've sent the following messages to people: Live that, Live this, Live ya.  My favorite to date?  "I live your thoughts."

I live your thoughts.  That line has some potential.  Are we talking the strength of suggestion?  Do as I say.  My wish is your command.  Or, are we referring to the influence of self talk?  I'm not talking about the power of The Secret.  

I remember several years ago waking up to my inner narrator (more like, my Inner Nag).  She would say some pretty hurtful and untrue things about me.  I would shake it off and move on with my day.  Did this impact my day or bleed into my professional or personal life?  According to the people closest to me, no.  (Liars.)  Still. It took up energy and time that I did not have to spare.

How about your Inner Narrator or Nag?  What are your first thoughts about yourself when you wake up?  Are they positive or destructive?  We wouldn't tolerate anyone tearing us down or berating someone close to us.  We wouldn't accept someone we love beating themselves up.  Why would we do it to ourselves?  

It's time to turn on our own autocorrects and be kind to ourselves.  O, U&I need to stick together.  

Bichovsky Backflash: Happiness Is...

I wrote this list in response to a book I read when I was experimenting with blogging.

If you've never read The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, do it.  Do it for yourselves and for those around you.  It inspired me to think back to what made me happy when I was younger.  This random list is from as early as I can remember to high school- but not in sequential order.  Good luck deciphering!  

1.  Hide-and-Go Seek!  Massive game...anywhere from 5-20 neighborhood kids, at night.  Game was not over until everyone was found.

2.  Listening to the Beastie Boys on my "boom box."

3.  Taking the bus to the 163rd Street Mall and watching the break dancers in the parking lot.  

4.  Playing Barbies.  Different story every day.  The yellow elevator never worked on my townhouse but it was fun.  We used to take album covers...the ones that folded out into a trifold...to make studio apartments.

5.  Walking on the boardwalk- when it wasn't for exercise.  This was before we had our license. 

6.  Making home movies dancing and singing to Pearl Jam.  Wearing flannel shirts and thinking we were hard core.

7.  Head banging to Guns-N-Roses...wearing tight jeans and black eyeliner...thinking we were hard core.

8.  Rides to school with KM, hanging out on WG base, arguing over the Ouija board.

9.  Grease.  Grease.  Grease.  It really was The Word.

10.  Saving up 100 pennies to chase down the Mr. Softy truck.  We never knew when he was coming.  Was heartbreaking if you only had 99 pennies.

11.  Not going to the OTHER ice cream truck. 

12.  Collecting Garbage Pail Kids!  

13.  Chorale

14.  Stickers- loved the oily ones that you could squish and the colors would move.

15.  Reading.  Loved the Babysitters Club.  Remember reading a cheerleading series that I have tried and tried to find again.  I remember one character was Patrick and he drove a garbage truck.  Megan (?) was the good cheerleader.  Preston (?) male cheerleader drove a Porsche.  Vanessa was a wanna-be and manipulative and once made Megan think that she broke a vase.  Seriously...does anyone know this series?  (2013 update- an awesome friend found some of them for me.  What a hoot to reread.  Thanks, KT!)

16.  V.C. Andrews and Stephen King FREAKED ME OUT.

17.  I liked to make stuff.  My favorite was to take a piece of clear tape and color on it with a marker.  Then (real fast!) drop Elmer's Glue.  Let it dry and then peel it off.  Instant treasure.

18.  I had an Easy Bake Oven.  Wasn't so easy.

19.  Used to watch Wonder Woman like crazy.  My mom made me my own headband.  I would wear my Underoos, tie my mom up with my lasso of truth, and raid the cookie jar.  It wasn't until I was older that I realized she let me.

20.  Played Pac Man on one of those restaurant video game tables while drinking Shirley Temples. 

21.  I can still remember making my Dr. Seuss All About Me book.

22.  Used to play school.  I gave the neighbor Robbie a detention because he was disgusting.

23.  Loved to play dress up with my aunt's shoes!

24.  My blankie!  It had silk on it.  (OK- this one was not in high school)

25.  Riding down "death hill" on a three wheel bike.

26.  Sleepovers at family members' houses.

27.  Watching SNL in JH's basement; watching 90210 during the summer with friend on the phone.

28.  Matching socks to my shirts!

What would be on your list?  Let me know...

Beware the Troll

Whether you follow soap operas or not, at some point you have watched a television program and realized some history has been rewritten.  

What do I mean?  I'm a long time General Hospital fan (who admittedly fast forwards more these days than not).  I stand firm that when Sonny Corinthos the Mobster was first introduced, he was Not a Nice Guy.  Now, he is the Mobster with a heart of gold.  He will only shoot you if: you steal from him, you steal from someone he knows, you steal from someone who knows someone he knows, or you are related to him.   It's forgivable because he is still hunky and has the best laugh.  Sonny never hurt anyone.  Except for Karen years ago.  (No, he didn't.  Well, yes, he did.  But, he kind of didn't.  But, he kind of did.)

I'm a hardcore lurker on IMDB message boards.  I will sometimes view the board before I watch a show to see if I should even bother or what I should pay attention to.  (Except for The Walking Dead and Doctor Who- I am spoiler free.  Be warned!)  People on message boards like to argue about a show, the stars, producers, story lines- that's all OK.  I really enjoy observing the debates that go back and forth over the rewriting of a character's history to make him more lovable or to build a better arc for her.

But message boards are a soap opera in themselves.  Sometimes, I dive in just to see what a "troll" has said to spark 45 responses in ten minutes about a new haircut.  People will question each other's ability to function in society if they disagree on the rapid aging of a soap opera child.  The real fun begins when they start to go off topic AKA OT about real world issues.  Like that baby in England.  Or mini golf.

I'm not criticizing them.  I find it all fascinating.  But here is my question:  Are you a troll?  Do you insinuate yourself into conversations that do not pertain to you or steer a calm conversation into something extreme just to "Stir the pot" in the real world?  If you aren't a troll, do you know of one in your circle of friends or at work that you passively enable by simply listening?  Why?  There's plenty of drama in television land.  We don't need any extra here.

Instead of investing in trolling, how about we invest in our own stories now before they become our histories?  If there was a message board about you, what would it say?  I hope mine would say: She always has a smile and has a great laugh.  And awesome shoes.  Yeah...let's not forget the shoes.

Dipping My Toe

Guest Blog- Living the Writing Life
Dear Universe,
I was honored to be asked to share what it has been like to dip my toe into the public writing arena.  Please click on this link to read more and stay around to check out the gems within Heather Harlen's site.  Guest Blog- Living the Writing Life
Thanks, Heather!

Bichovsky Backflash: What’s Eating You?

I know, I know- it's flashback.  But I've been saying it wrong for years and I like the alliteration.  It's my universe...enjoy this writing blast from my past.  I originally shared it with Lehigh Valley Writing Project as part of a publishing initiative and tweaked it for you.  I learned a lot about myself when I first wrote it.  When faced with conflict, do you scream or swallow it?

I pushed my salad around to determine if there was enough for lunch the next day.  I put my fork down and the oddest thing happened.  The salad continued to move- on its own.

Bits of lettuce crawled across the plate until it revealed a bug as wide as my pinky and as long as my thumb from knuckle to nail.  To the best of my memory, it had wings and I am pretty confident it blinked at me.

I can scream with the best of them.  Ask anyone who has been with me in a near collision with a deer or when my godson opted to relieve himself on my couch.  I have good lungs and a high-pitched wail.

Upon seeing the unrequested topping, I opened up to scream and simultaneously remembered what my grandmother had said about being a lady in public.  I swallowed my scream and said, “Bug,” in a low tone.  Maybe I was gearing up for a secondary scream because my husband gave me “the hand,” otherwise known as the universal signal for shush.

It must have been shock that prevented me from retaliating against the shush.  He took a napkin, covered the uninvited guest, and carried the plate to the counter.  All the while, my inner narrator was busy. (Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug)

The manager of the unnamed and since closed establishment came over offering sincere apologies.  I was silent.  Did I want anything else?  I was silent.  A baked good, perhaps?  (Bug)  I was silent.  He referenced my empty glass of lemonade- did I want more?  I was silent.  (Bug)  I looked at my husband’s dark glass of tea.  Was my bug’s sister swimming in there?  Did I eat one without knowing it?  Is it doing the backstroke in my tummy?  (Bug...)

I felt legs crawling up my throat.  A fan of sushi, I was not a fan of bug (Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug Bug).

“We want to make sure you come back,” the manager said, ripping three coupons from a book of five- giving us $15.  Was my trauma not worth $25?  Had I let out the scream, would I have been worth $50?  I remained silent.

I can’t help now but wonder why I was so silent.  Why was I on mute?  Is there a part of me that values not making a scene above my own self interest?  Perhaps I am making a mountain out of a bug hill.  I just want to ensure that the next time I am in peril- be it bug, deer, decaf coffee, or a would-be-Lifetime-movie- stalker, that I do stand up for myself and not just swallow it.

Ode to Workout Pants

Dear Universe,

I love workout pants.  I originally purchased them to train for my first half marathon (which promptly became a limping 5K when I earned a stress fracture for my efforts).  I then used them to workout at The Gym for a solid year until I got hurt by Not Exercising someplace else.  I’ve worn them while doing my modified version of Hip Hop Abs.  Sometimes, I follow all of Shaun T’s directions and sometimes I sit on the couch with a pint of ice cream, watching him as he tells me, “You. Are. A-MAAAA-ZING.”  Yes, I am.

I went a little overboard when I first started working out and have amassed a collection of exercise pants made out of magical wicking material- all black, some capri, some long enough to trip me.  It was suggested to me by Someone that I wasted my resources purchasing them as I am not as...Athletically Infused as I once was.

Waste of resources?  Excuse me, but they are not JUST workout pants.  They are my: airport pants, DVR binge-watching pants, reading pants, writing pants, meeting a friend for breakfast pants, doing my work pants, grocery shopping pants, going to the doctor pants, pedicure pants.  But, I would never abuse them and call them my cleaning pants.  That’s crazy talk!

I can dress them up with sandals, dress them down with flip flops.  If I wanted to be ridiculous, I could pair them with high heels and pearls.  (I only did that once...long story.)

I do not wear yoga pants (except for the one pair I bought accidentally and was too busy to return so they are my “all my workout pants are dirty” pants).  They are not forgiving to those of us who actually like to eat dessert.  A friend of mine posted that she was in search of yoga pants and I was curious.  The Internet responded to her request with a plethora of options: Target, Ross, Marshall’s, all of the ‘Marts, Old Navy, Gap.

But then, the suggestions got pricer: Sonoma, NY & Company, Macy’s, Athleta.

Athleta?  There’s an Athleta near me but I have always stayed away.  It seemed expensive and not for dessertites like me.  I’m not the only one asking if the price is worth it.

I was curious and found the mother ship of workout pants.  I bypassed the yoga section and went right for the Boyfriend pants- these are the result of regular workout pants and cargo pants having a baby.  So awesome!  My phone fits in a sealed pocket and they are now my new tailgating pants.

So, whether your interests are yoga, Pilates, The Gym, binge-watching or groceries- join me in the workout pants revolution.

At least I’m not wearing my pajamas out in public.  Just saying.