Musings on topics of small or large importance. Especially partial to subjects that include baby boomers, public figures, friends, Corporate America, the Denver Broncos, NASCAR, my previous home towns of New York City and Columbia (Maryland), stupidity (mine and others'), diets and health and who knows what else!

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Midnight Musings on New Year's Eve

Happy New Year, everybody!

Am I glad to see 2009 go from the current file to the archives? You bet! 2009 will forever be the year that my mom died and some other much more minor things happened that I'd rather not think about.

Many good things happened too. My book, Building for Boomers, got done (and will be out in February). My co-author, Mike Kephart, was wonderful and inspiring to work with. I had some really warm and wonderful visits with my mom before she passed. My good friends in several states kept me entertained, sane, and safe. My health improved following my total hip replacement. Over the year, I received many blessings.

Every New Year's Eve or shortly thereafter, I make a list of the things I want to happen in the new year. Not resolutions. Not a to-do list. Not a prayer list. Not a wish list. A list of the things I just want to happen, some of which I can control, some of which I really can't. It's amazing how many of them have come about when I go back and read them at the end of each year.

This year my list isn't just all about me. I'm including "get-well" thoughts for our country and, in fact, the world. We are still coughing and sputtering, and I'm hoping, wishing, praying, affirming and declaring that some cosmic Vitamin C gets injected into the world so we can all get well.

This year on New Year's Eve, there's a blue moon, they just said on the news. Last one was in 1990, next one won't be until 2028. Well, once in a blue moon true miracles happen. With that as a harbinger for 2010, I'm expecting miracles. Maybe the Denver Broncos will actually make the playoffs and even go on to play in the Super Bowl, for example. Or, maybe terrorism will end, we'll be able to take more than 3 ounces of liquid on airplanes again, and everyone will be at peace. Neither one are likely, but hey, they could happen....

Monday, October 19, 2009

SOS! Save Me from Myself!

Okay, I have to do something about my health and my weight. I've been putting it off until...until my book is done (it's done), until my hip replacement has healed (it's been four and a half months), until after my birthday (it was a week ago), until all of the sugary junk in my house is gone (I keep buying more), or until I feel like it (ha!). But meanwhile I don't feel well. I don't feel ill, just don't feel well.

And I've gained more weight lately. I feel logy and puffy. I feel old and fat. I don't want to exercise. I hardly want to walk to my car!

Mornings start out fine. I drink a bottle of water to start out my day, and that is about as healthy as I get all day. By lunchtime I crave something sweet no matter what I've had as a meal. Night is the worst. At exactly the time I should be finished eating for the day my sugar cravings will grab me by the throat and bum's-rush me around my kitchen, into drawers, cabinets and the fridge to pluck out cookies, ice cream, candy -- sometimes one, usually more than one. And is there ever enough? Rarely do I quit because I am satisfied; more often it's because my head says "enough already!"

I know I have an addictive personality. Whatever I like, I want more of, if not all of. More, more, more. Fortunately I don't drink and I've never smoked, or I would be in even worse trouble healthwise. But this sugar/carbs constant craving has got me in a headlock and much as I've squirmed, kicked and punched, I'm still in its grip.

I've heard that we're only as sick as our secrets. I've put off blogging about this because 1) I didn't want to acknowledge how bad it is (as if people can't tell by just looking at me), 2) I didn't want to be judged (yeah, like that wouldn't happen no matter what), 3) I didn't want "advice," no matter how well meaning -- I already KNOW what to DO! It's just a matter of doing it! 4) I didn't want to go public because I didn't want to fail, again, in front of everyone (as if perpetuating what I've been doing isn't already failing), 5) I am addicted to carbs and sugar and that part of me doesn't want to give them up, even at the cost of years off my life (how sick is that?!).

It's not that I'm "ready." I'm not. But I'm eager to feel better again; to want to do things; to fit into my clothes, and not just the big sizes; to look in the mirror and see "me" again; and to stop feeling like a failure.

Oprah Winfrey talked about feeling like a failure in the face of her other successes because she was overweight. All of my life I've wanted to write a book and now I've got a book coming out in February. I'm already starting on my next one, my first plunge into the fiction waters. I live in a place I love with neighbors and friends who are God's gifts to me. I have things to do, hands to shake, babies to kiss, and I don't care about any of them but I care that I don't care.

Please do NOT give me advice. I am not open to it. I may be as I proceed down this trail, but right now I just want to poke anyone in the eye who has "advice." But feel free to give me your empathy. No sympathy, please, or pity, and if you feel resentful, derisive or negative in any way, just move along. Tell me your own story, whether success or failure or in between. Give me any support you can muster, even if you don't leave a comment. It would also help me if you'd follow me on this journey that I have no faith I can take, because knowing that someone is watching and (hopefully) cheering me on may be powerful enough to get me going, like a push on a swing gets a kid sailing into the air and keeps her swinging for awhile before having to be pushed again. I've learned through Twitter that there are no strangers, only people you don't know as well as others. All positive energy gleefully accepted!

Come to think of it, tell my enemies, not that there are many [*guffaw*]. If living well is the best revenge, maybe knowing that they're hoping I stay fat and logy will be the best motivator!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Strategic Social Media for Design Firms

Last week I had the privilege and pleasure of moderating a panel -- "Why to Blog, Text & Tweet: Strategic Social Media for Design Firms" -- at an evening event at Haworth Showroom for the American Institute of Architects - New York (AIA-NY).

Finally! A subject I know well, one I know from the ground up, one I am intimately involved with and not just as an observer or journalist. Normally moderators are asked to herd the cats (panelists and audience), making sure that everything goes well, that the panelists keep their presentations and answers to questions brief and interesting, keeping the audience awake, and ending on time. I've moderated probably 100 panels in my 25 years as a journalist and I've gotten the drill pretty well down pat by now.

This time I was also asked to give a 20-minute talk to give the audience context, from my experience as a design and construction journalist and as a longtime Web and digital maven. It was fun and also somewhat painful to skip down memory lane as I recalled fax machines that took six minutes per page, modems that sped data through the lines at all of 2,400 baud, the dot-com boom and bust, and our (McGraw-Hill Construction's) first blog when we had to explain what a blog was and when I was the only contributor for a good year. Ah, the good old days. Then I moved on to talk about nowadays: LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and who knows what's to come. The point was that everything in the past and present are merely tools to enable us to do the basics that make us successful: communicate, form relationships and collaborate.

Our panelists were excellent! Mike Plotnick, media relations manager for HOK, talked about HOK Life, their site that features blog posts from 30 HOK contributors worldwide. I'd met Mike in person the week before at the Construction Writers Association conference in Chicago, where he led a table in our roundtable discussions, and I knew he'd be good on the AIA-NY panel. I actually met Mike via Twitter when I was writing an article on social media from the Society for Marketing Professional Services conference in Las Vegas in July. I tweeted him and asked if he'd contact me and half an hour later we were on the phone. Impressive!

The other panelists I met for the first time a few minutes before the panel began, although I had spoken with each of them the week before for half an hour or so to get an idea of what they wanted to talk about. They were Adam Lutz, facilities manager for Google Inc.; Dorian Benkoil, founder of Teeming Media; and Jessica Sheridan, editor-in-chief of eOculus. Jessica is writing something about the event and maybe Jenna McKnight from Architectural Record. If/when they do, I'll post the links. You can also find the live (at the time) tweets on Twitter if you have an account by searching for #AIANYsocialmedia, thanks mostly to Laurie Meisel, who tweeted consistently and quietly throughout the session.

The evening went well. Feedback was positive from what the AIA-NY folks told us. People came up to us afterward, seemingly pumped and ready to go blog, tweet and make videos. The venue was classy. Best of all, the room was filled with New Yorkers, several of whom I have known for many years!

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

After Sliding Down the Back of a Stegasaurus...Now What?

About three weeks ago, my co-author Mike Kephart and I turned in our manuscript for our book, Building for Boomers, to McGraw-Hill. The real estate market was in good shape when we started working on the book. Within a few months it tanked and we had to start over pretty much completely since projects, people, and companies we had talked to just went away. It all kept getting worse and it made our job so much more difficult.

But now we've turned it in. And we have been notified that the book is in production. Our book should be available by mid-February, they told us. Very exciting!

It was a long slog. Neither Mike nor I are eager to write another such book any time soon. It reminds me of my friend Noah. A few minutes after his (first) wife gave birth to their first son, he got carried away with the moment and suggested they have more kids. She said, "Don't talk to me about that now. I feel like I just slid down the back of a Stegasaurus." That's (metaphorically) exactly how I feel.

So now what? Not with the book, with the rest of my life.

For the last year and a half, I've put nearly everything but the book on hold. Well, I also had to make time, lots and lots of time, for suffering with my left hip and then getting it fixed. It hurt so bad for so long -- I felt absolutely crappy day after day after day after day for over a year. My total hip replacement in June was a godsend. I wish I'd done it months before. It would have really made a difference in my quality of life and in my ability to work on the book. Many days it was all I could do to just get through the day. But...no regrets. Onward.

So now what? No pain, no book deadline. No job, either.

First of all I want to tackle some of the things I've put off. My to-do list has about 50 things on it: dentist and doctors appointments, clean out closets, hang pictures on my walls, get rid of some of my zillion books, go see my mom, shop for shoes (can't wear my beloved sandals much longer), reconnect with people I've been neglecting, send more goodie boxes to the troops through AnySoldier.com, redo the resident directory at my apartment complex, relearn the piano (bought a wonderful 88-key electric keyboard 4 years ago and it's been sitting), write my novel (started it the night of the day we turned in our manuscript)....

Then there's the Construction Writers Association Fall Conference Oct. 5-7 in Chicago. And the AIA-New York's social media seminar, which I'm moderating, on Oct. 14: "Why to Blog, Text and Tweet - Strategic Social Media for Design Firms."

Then what? Woo hoo! I can't wait to answer that!

More to come. MUCH more to come. Stay tuned.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Warning: Disabled Tags Go with the Person, Not the Vehicle


When I was visiting my mom in Phoenix last week, I took her car, a big boat of a thing, a 1993 Lincoln Town Car, to Wal-Mart. I parked close to the front door in a space for the disabled and went inside.

Before I'd gotten 20 feet inside, I heard a male voice: "Excuse me, Ma'am." Couldn't be for me so I kept walking. Louder: "Excuse me, Ma'am!" I turned around and a policeman in uniform was talking to me. "I believe you are parked illegally," he said. Whaaaat?

I frowned and looked confused. "I don't think so," I said. He said I was parked in a spot for the disabled, without a proper tag. "It's on the license plates," I said. He said that the plates are assigned to a woman born in the 1920s, "and I don't think you were born in the 1920s." "No, that's my mom, but I have my own tag," I said, and rummaged through my purse and came up with my own disabled hang tag.

His attitude changed. The accusatory tone disappeared. He said he wanted to run it through his computer and would I come outside with him while he did that? Sure, I said, even though it was well over 100 degrees outside.

I stood by my mom's car while he did whatever he did. He came back a few minutes later and said Maryland's computers seemed to be down but he believed me and would not confiscate it. Confiscate it?!? I hope not! Though I didn't say anything.

He apologized for making me walk outside and explained why he was there. "There have been a lot of complaints about people parking in those spots who aren't supposed to," he said. "I just caught three people. One tag belonged to someone else, one was expired, and one belonged to someone who was deceased," he said. Wow.

Then he told me that the disabled tag was supposed to go with the person and not the vehicle. So I needed to hang my tag when parking in those spots, even though the license plate had the distinctive wheelchair logo.

Okay, point taken. The fine for a violation is $350. Friends, take note.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Procrastinating on "Getting My Stuff Done"

Such a wonderful little animated video that hits all too close to home, probably not only for me....

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Now, back to work! Really.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Hip Hip Hooray! -- 2-1/2 Weeks After Hip Replacement

First of all, apologies that this is so long. It's info that I wish I'd had before my surgery. So maybe it'l be helpful to someone else.

Every surgery is different. I read about others' before I had my own total hip replacement, I talked to people who'd had it, I talked to people whose friends and relatives had had it, I poured over web sites (the most helpful by far was Dr. Todd Swanson's hip replacement site and you can follow him on Twitter at @tvswanny), I asked questions of the right people. I thought I was prepared. I definitely was not. What I learned was that the only experience is experiencing it.

Night Before Surgery

The night before my surgery, I couldn't eat or drink anything, even water, after midnight. I ate a Dannon coffee yogurt about 11:45. Wasn't all that nervous, more excited to finally be getting this done. Slept okay.

Tuesday, Day of Surgery

The day of surgery, Tuesday, June 9, my friend Mary Ann drove me to the hospital and stayed with me the whole day. I knew I was in good hands -- think Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment -- and I knew she'd scream for whatever I really needed.

Beforehand, I'd asked my surgeon's nurse and the hospital nurse if I could 1) keep my rings on, 2) wear light eye make-up, and 3) keep my contact lenses in. In essence, I got mixed yes and no signals. Wasn't looking good for any of them, but as it turned out, I got to keep my eye make-up on and keep my contacts in. I had to surrender my rings to Mary Ann but I got them back later in the day.

My surgeon came in to the holding room about an hour before surgery and chatted with me. He asked what activity I missed. "Sex!" I declared. He and Mary Ann laughed. He said, "Usually we ask people to bring in pictures of them doing the activity [to help motivate them to heal], but in this case maybe that's not such a good idea."

My anaesthesiologist came in and told me what he would be doing as he led me into "twilight sleep" while I had my surgery with an epidural. I asked him if I could keep my contacts in and he said he thought it would be okay. I was thrilled! As anyone with 20/400 vision like me knows, it's a fuzzy, fuzzy world without contacts.

I was wheeled in to the operating room and I frankly can't remember much until I woke up on my side, looked around, realized I was in an operating room where things were relatively quiet, and I said, "Am I supposed to be awake?" to whomever might be in the vicinity. It's okay, I was assured; the surgery's over. Sigh of relief! The whole surgery took a little over an hour. Amazing!

Was rolled into the recovery room for an hour or so. I was the only one in there for most of the time. They covered my shivering body with wonderfully warmed blankets, and I felt a tiny bit of fear of the unknown but mostly just like it would all be okay.

Mary Ann was already in my room when I was wheeled in. I was awake, unlike the grogginess I'd experienced last time I had a general anaesthesia. But I was scared to move. I had a little pain pump, which they said to push even if I wasn't in pain to stave it off after the epidural wore completely off. So I pumped to keep ahead of the pain. I didn't move much.

I don't remember much about that first day except being glad I didn't have to get out of bed. I had a catheter, and the anaesthetic and pain medication are guaranteed to constipate you for days, I was told. (How right they were!) They also made me quite nauseous for awhile. Not as bad as general anaesthesia, but miserable nonetheless.

I wasn't very hungry but I was allowed to eat a normal dinner. I have no idea what I ate but it was pretty good.

The only BAD thing that happened was when my IV got clogged and I needed another one. But...their IV nurses -- yes, special IV nurses -- weren't available for a loooooong time! Three hours! Then one came and stuck me four times and couldn't find a vein. She was a bitch, besides, so I was mighty unhappy. Another long wait. Second IV nurse came and stuck me unsuccessfully another three times. I was going crazy. But at least this nurse was very nice, conscientious and empathetic. I just have tough-to-find veins, I guess. Feeling like a pin cushion, I called time out and phoned my spiritual advisor, who's sort of my minister. She did her prayerful magic, as I knew she would, and the very next stab was a success. It all took 4 hours. I asked for the nurse in charge and gave her an earful.

I was told that I wouldn't sleep much the first night because they'd keep waking me up to take my blood and my vitals. Not true. I slept very well and they were only mildly intrusive.

Wednesday, 1st Day After Surgery

Breakfast came. Who cares? But it tasted okay. Cookies came. When my mom and her significant other said they wanted to send me flowers, I asked if they'd send cookies from Cookies from Home instead so I could share them with the nurses and others who tended to me. Great move! They were such a hit with those great caregivers who get such little acknowledgement. Flowers came, too. They lit up the room. Very much appreciated!

The nurse took the catheter out and I admit that I panicked. There was noooooo waaaaay I could get out of bed. She assured me it wouldn't be necessary any time soon.

Two people from Physical Therapy came. They got me up and standing. Wooooo, a bit lightheaded. They had visions of me walking and going for PT. Didn't happen. My body just wasn't up for it yet. I saw the look pass between them, and they told me they'd be back the next day and would arrange for a bedside commode for me. I knew I'd failed.

Ooooooh, no, no bedside commode for me! It arrived and I couldn't fathom getting to it, getting down onto it and getting up from it, let alone in a room where people come barging in with no notice. Talk about incentive! A couple of hours later, I requested that a nurse help me walk to the bathroom, I made it there, and that was the end of the bedside commode! I was walking back and forth like a (fairly) old pro. I joked that the nurse would have to write a note for the PT folks verifying that it was really me, the same person who could hardly stand up in the morning.

Thursday, 2nd Day After Surgery

My surgeon came early to see how I was doing and he was pleased.

More flowers arrived, these from my dentist! How many people's dentists send them flowers? I was delighted! More walking. Bedside commode long gone. Caregivers were still loving the cookies.

PT people came and were delighted and relieved to see how I'd progressed. I walked with the walker to "Independence Square" on the same floor, where they have a whole setup of kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, stairs, curbs and a car. Probably spent half an hour there and they discharged me from PT and in essence said I could go home! What?!? I didn't feel at all ready to leave the hospital and, fortunately, my nurses agreed with me so I spent another night. Minimal intrusiveness, good sleep.

Friday, 3rd Day After Surgery

Nurse showed me how to inject myself with Lovenox, an anticoagulant to prevent deep vein thrombosis, once a day in my belly for the next eight days. Didn't bother me, did it without flinching. Mary Ann came to pick me up and I was outa there. Felt shaky walking slowly to the car with the walker. Gingerly got into the car with a plastic bag on the seat for easy swiveling.

Home looked good! People brought food and cards. Too exhausted and woozy and a bit nauseous to fully appreciate it, but it was so good to be home.

Several people told me I wouldn't have much pain post-surgery, especially since I'd had so much pain beforehand. They either lied or I'm super sensitive. There was definitely pain! I took Dilaudid, a narcotic painkiller, which made me mentally cloudy but it did take the edge off the pain. Put ice on my hip to help the swelling and pain. Was surprised and not happy about the pain!

Slept half-sitting, half-lying down. Uncomfortable but I was mocus enough to sleep anyway.

Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Days 4, 5, 6, 7 After Surgery

Home physical therapy was supposed to come Saturday, Sunday or Monday, but by Tuesday afternoon I still hadn't heard from anyone, despite calling the home care service twice. Geez, can't get good help! I did the exercises the hospital had taught me and was careful not to violate the 3 rules they beat into my head: 1) Don't cross your legs, 2) Don't turn your leg inward, 3) Don't bend over more than 90 degrees. I'm so glad I did the exercises every day; it really helped since the home PT person didn't come. Very discouraged when I weighed myself and saw that I'd gained 10 pounds since last week. Surely my new ceramic/titanium hip doesn't weigh 10 pounds!

People where I live brought me more cards, flowers, books, and more food, including complete dinners! I love where I live!!

Didn't feel much like walking outside my apartment, slept a lot, and fought swelling in both legs. Friend who'd had the surgery the year before said he'd been swollen more than he thought he should be and it lasted longer than he thought it should, so I didn't worry about it. It sure was ugly, though.

Still having pain, took Dilaudid only when I needed it, soon switched to Tramadol, another painkiller, but this one didn't fog my head. Took the edge off of the pain but didn't give me any other side effects (that I felt).

Worst part was dealing with the TEDS, high-compression stockings that go to the knee. They are a bitch to put on, like trying to move a size 6 stocking up a size 10 leg. Can't do it myself, so Mary Ann volunteered to put them on each morning, take them off each night, wash them and bring them back to put on again the next morning. She and I both hated them! They aren't uncomfortable to wear, just to put on. Torture! And I'm supposed to wear these for six weeks? No freakin' way! But for now, on every morning and off every night.

Walking better wih the walker, doing my exercises, can feel myself healing a tiny bit more each day. Still feeling the pain, though. Grabber (found in hip kits) very helpful for picking up dropped objects and putting on underwear and jeans. I'm getting good with it!

Tuesday night was invited to a neighbor's apartment just down the hall for dinner. My first big outing. Good, real food. But didn't last long, really pooped. No stamina. Ugh.

Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Days 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 After Surgery

Off all of the pain meds, walking with a cane inside the apartment for the first time on Wednesday, pain minimal, mostly waking me up at night. Permission to sleep on either side, though the side with the incision was too sore to really work. When sleeping on the non-incision side, had to put a pillow between my legs to make sure I didnt cross my legs or turn leg inward. Such a relief to sleep on my side again that the pillow didn't bother me much.

Still doing my exercises, still wearing the TEDS, still no stamina, still sitting and standing and moving gingerly. No energy, not completely clear-headed, still swollen in both legs and both feet.

Home PT person arrived on Wednesday and was shocked that I answered the door with a cane instead of a walker. Led me through exercises, was pleased at my progress. Very glad I'd been doing the exercises. But hurting Wednesday night and Thursday, probably muscles rather than incision, so went back to the walker on Thursday. By Friday felt okay again, went back to the cane and that was the end of the walker.

Friday evening went to a social event where I live. Lasted about an hour and that was sitting with people bringing me food! Just no stamina, still, and no interest in socializing. Just not up for any of it yet.

Sunday I started peeing every 2 hours, sometimes every hour, once in awhile every half hour. What is going on? Infection? No pain, just insane frequency, including all night long.

Sunday went to dinner at my neighbor's, had to go back to my place once to pee (on my toilet with the 5-inch-higher riser). Not only no stamina, also no patience for small talk. Just wanted to go home, so left early for the sanctuary of my quiet place.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Days 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 After Surgery

Getting better by leaps and bounds! Definitely have turned a corner. Zipping around on my cane, exercises are getting easier and I'm feeling my muscles getting stronger as I coax them out of the hibernation they've been in for the last year when I've been in such pain. Home PT person came and took me up and down an entire flight of stairs. Up with the good leg, down with the bad one. Cane on the current step when going up, cane on the step you're moving to when going down. And hold on to the rail.

Peeing every hour continued for three days, Sunday through Tuesday. Then ceased as quickly as it had begun. And I'd lost all of the 10 extra pounds, plus my swelling was gone. Ah, that explains it! Very relieved.

Still moving, sitting, standing with great care. Began washing my own clothes/sheets/towels again, retrieving my clothes from the dryer by raising my left leg behind me so I don't bend more than 90 degrees. Simple cooking and food prep appeal to me again. More energy, though still low on stamina. Still aware that I'm not back 100% -- maybe 75% at this point. Better than 20% I had when I came home.

Okay, confessions. No more TEDS for the last couple of days. Swelling is gone and I'm more active so I figure...I'll try it this way. And I'm supposed to be able to drive at four weeks. It's been two weeks and four days. I had cabin fever today and the weather was beautiful, so I very carefully got into and out of the car, drove to the grocery store, used the grocery cart as a makeshift walker, gleefully walked up and down the aisles. It was such fun! Don't realize what we take for granted until it's gone. So glad to get it back! Drove very carefully -- don't want any accidents. Was so good for my morale! The trip zapped my energy, am still working on my stamina.

Next is swimming, which I can do at four weeks. I may push it a day or two but respect that they want no infection and neither do I. Can't wait to do exercises in the pool! And can't wait til my stamina is back. I am looking to get my life back, and I can feel that it's close.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Remembering and Smiling, Not Crying, on Father's Day

I will be glad when Father's Day is over, and the ads for all the things men love or are supposed to love end for another 11-1/2 months. My wonderful dad passed away 15 years ago, two months after Father's Day. I miss him every day but, of course, especially on Father's Day.

We (my mom and I) had him on borrowed time for many years. In the early 1970s he was shot with a .45 at close range in a robbery attempt at his business. He conked the guy over the head with a little quart can of paint he had in his hand, which made the guy's second shot miss my dad entirely. Fortunately, the one that hit him was a through-and-through in his shoulder, and he spent the night at the hospital that best treated gunshot wounds because they got so many. We all got lucky.

Then in he early 1980s he got diagnosed with prostate cancer. He treated it and eventually was deemed to be cancer-free. But a decade later it came back, wreaked incredible havoc with him as it spread, and his last year or two were hard on him and very hard on my mom, who took care of him.

But on that Father's Day in 1994, we had no idea that two months later he'd be gone.

I came out from New York to see him in Phoenix for Father's Day. I can't remember what I gave him for Father's Day but I wrote him about 100 "thank-you" items for every big and little thing I could think of, and that touched him greatly. I am so glad now that I got to express to him how I felt about the many things that made him special to me.

My mom and dad were married for nearly 47 years. Happily. They were a great example to me of what a marriage and a happy family should be. My dad wrote my mom creative little notes several times a week and gave her many, many cards. My favorite card that I still remember was (front) "I like you more than I like chunklit covered grab crackers." (inside) "And I really like chunklit covered grab crackers."

This past week my mom came upon a huge bag of all of those cards and notes that she'd kept, and she spent a couple of hours laughing and crying and remembering. Her significant other of the last decade was encouraging and understanding. (How rare!)

I miss my dad's wisdom. "Nothing is free." "The only thing constant in life is change." "Everything works out for the best." I miss his humor. He was big on puns, he teased about everything, and he lived to make my mother laugh. I miss his heart. He could be crusty on the outside but was a mushheart inside. I miss the great example that he was. He only finished high school but was self-educated and I could never stump him with my questions. He knew something about everything. He could make, fix or build anything. (He must have hated that throughout my brief marriage, my husband paid people to do nearly everything, nearly up to changing the lightbulbs.) My dad was my problem-solver, my entertainer and my inspiration.

Rather than focusing on the fact that he's gone, I'm trying to be grateful for the extra years we had with him that could easily have been denied us. My dad -- and my mom's husband -- was a man we love to remember...so as I do today, I will not cry. I will smile.

Friday, June 05, 2009

What's the Most Romantic Thing...?

My hairdresser today told me about her husband's romantic surprise for their 25th wedding anniversary: renewing their vows at a spectacular place with their original minister, original bridesmaids, every detail arranged and perfect. Very cool, I thought.

Then she asked me, "What's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you?" Hmmmmm. Ah.... Well, let's see. Absolutely nothing came to mind. Oh, c'mon, I've had some wonderful men in my life over the years. Why can't I think of something outstandingly romantic?

Let's see.... It wasn't my senior prom. My boyfriend at the time, Tom, and his best buddy with whom we double-dated, took us girls home first and went out together afterward. Not very romantic.

Thinking back, there were some memorable romantic gestures. My gorgeous next door neighbor Tom (not the same as my h.s. boyfriend Tom) ripped grasshoppers apart outside my window in an effort to impress me. We were about 10 or 11 at the time. I was impressed by the fact that he wanted to impress me, not by what he tried to impress me with.

In college, my boyfriend Greg sent me yellow roses, my all-time favorite. They were my first yellow roses and they were special. So was he. That was romantic.

When I was dating Walt, one night we were lying on his trampoline at his house just talking. He reached into his pocket, pulled out all of the bills inside -- somewhere around $100 -- handed them to me and said, "I love you. You can have everything I've got." A few days later, he proposed. (Yes, I married him. We're long divorced and that was a looooong time ago, but it was a turning point and very romantic at the time.)

My perception of what's romantic has really flip-flopped over the years. Grand gestures, big surprises and the champagne-roses-chocolate-covered-strawberries scenarios don't do it for me (especially since I don't drink these days). What I look for now is someone who knows when I need something -- sometimes when I don't know I need it, sometimes when I do -- and gives it to me. It's being there for me, however that manifests. I'd rather have that on a daily basis than "romance."

When my special man takea care of me when I have a fever and my hair is plastered to my head or when some food or the flu rudely upsets my whole digestive system, that's romantic. When he's an early-to-bed man but stays up til midnight to be the first to wish me happy birthday, that's romantic. When he takes out the trash, fixes my shower door, cooks me an omelette, makes me laugh when I'm blue, rubs my back when I'm hurting, asks my opinion on a thorny business issue, wants me to give him a wake-up call when he's traveling, watches a NASCAR race with me when he's not a great fan, and takes me to the airport at 5:00 a.m., that's romantic.

My hairdresser "sexted" her husband, knowing that sending a sexy text message was so out of character for her that he'd crack up. Her young salon employees put her up to it and taught her how. Her husband, she told me, wakes her up each morning by rubbing her back, with a glass of juice awaiting her on the nightstand. In my opinion, those are romantic things that transcend the grand gestures, because they are showing each other how important they are, and they are keeping things fresh, even after 25 years of marriage.

What's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you?

Wednesday, June 03, 2009

Counting Down to Getting My Life Back

In less than a week, I'll have a brand new hip on my left side. Everyone tells me I'll get my life back after the surgery for my total hip replacement and a few weeks of physical therapy and recovery, and I'm absolutely counting on that! The past few monhs -- all 52 weeks of the whole last year, really -- have been progressively worse and worse, more and more painful, and I've been increasingly losing "me" in the process. That's probably not true, but it feels that way. So I'll be glad to get my life back and me back too.

I'm anticipating that the one thing I'll dislike afterward is the inconvenience and aggravation of having the bells and whistles go off every time I go through the security line in an airport as it picks up on my new metal hip. I'll be wanded every time I go through an airport -- and that better be the extent of it! -- until they come up with something more progressive than those big old lumbering walk-through sensor arches they have now. But being able to walk and not limp or hurt will definitely be worth it.

I resent arthritis. How dare it do this to me?! Everyone calls it a degenerative disease that there's no cure for and no way of reversing. Gee, how optimistic. Probably if I ate pure something-juice and raw something-berries from now on, I could stave it off, but the idea of giving up Flo's Filets at Longhorn, Stouffer's Turkey Tetrazzini, Baskin-Robbins Pralines & Cream and Campbell's tomato soup (cream of - I like it with milk) with oyster crackers just is too much for me to seriously consider. Maybe "they" will learn more about arthritis and figure out how to treat it or get rid of it, and I sure wish they'd hurry.

Meanwhile, I have a blue disabled tag to hang on my car's rear view mirror so I can park in the handicapped spaces. I'm grateful for that, as it makes the excrutiating walk shorter. With all of us baby boomers getting older and more of us limping along, I think they're going to need a lot more of those designated spaces in the next few years. It's already hard to find a free one at the movie theater, Costco (and they have a lot of them!), and most restaurants.

There's a lot to do before this kind of "procedure." I have had my pre-op tests; signed my medical power of attorney and living will documents; bought all kinds of aids for not being able to bend more than 90 degrees for four weeks (yes, that'll be a trick); bought the ugliest mammoth hard plastic seat you've ever seen to raise the height of the toilet 5 inches (not putting it on til 5 minutes before I leave for the hospital and taking it off the moment I can); been to the dentist (because for the next two years, minimum, I'll have to take an antibiotic when I go, even for just a cleaning, to ensure no infection); talked to nurses and reps from my surgeon's office, the hospital and my insurance company (they called me, I didn't call them); and done 100 other things on my to-do-before-surgery list.

After I get my new hip, I will be glad to not have to always seek out the handicapped stall in the ladies' room. Getting up off of one of those little low commodes about a foot off the ground with nothing to grab onto and a bad hip can be an incredible challenge. I've come up on occasion with some creative ways of dealing with that (which I won't go into here, even though I know you'd laugh). Let's just say that this may be the #1 thing I'm looking forward to when out in public after I get my new hip.

I'll also be glad to be able to get into and out of a chair, into and out of bed, and walk more than a few feet at a time free of the pain that has literally crippled me and given me a perpetual grimace, especially the last couple or three months. I'll be glad to sleep more than an hour or two without the pain waking me up. I'll be glad when I can put weight on my left leg again without feeling that acute stab of pain and fearing the hip would crumple and send me sprawling on the ground.

Pain is exhausting and depressing. Both have been a surprise to me. I thought pain just hurt. No, it drains you, or at least it does me. It sucks out my energy to do the simplest things, so that I'm tired when I get up in the morning, I'm exhausted by mid-afternoon, and I'm completely useless by early evening. Worse, much worse, has been the not giving a damn about anything but making it through the day. Accomplishing anything has been too much to hope for, I'd say, five days a week. I usually had a couple of good days -- no, less bad days -- each week, but I never knew when they would be. Then I'd beat myself up for not accomplishing anything, letting other people down, being a failure and a bad person. This has all been so *not me* and I have not dealt with it well. So the idea of being six days away from help and a few weeks away from being me again is wildly thrilling.

I will say that I've become quite adept at coming up with workarounds to some of the challenges. I've got a "sock donner" to help me get a sock onto my foot and pull it up enough to where I can reach it to get it up the rest of the way. I have learned to squirt body wash on the floor of the shower and rub my left foot around in it since I can't reach it to wash it. Next I'm going to tape my shaver to a long wooden spoon to shave my lower left leg where I can't reach. And probably the nicest thing I've done to deal with this is...get a pedicure. I'd never had one before about six weeks ago, but when I couldn't endure the pain anymore of reaching down far enough to clip my toenails on my left foot, I had to do something. It's pure bliss to have someone pamper your feet for an hour. I'm getting another pedicure two days before I go in for my surgery. I plan to enjoy it -- I don't know if I will be able to justify it anymore after I get my reach back.

One bright spot in all of this has been Twitter. The "tweeple" there have been wonderfully supportive and informative. One hip and knee surgeon, Dr. Todd Swanson (@tvswanny) out of Las Vegas, Nevada, twittered me with this link to his Web site, which has a cornucopia of information about joint replacements. Thank you, Dr. Swanson!

Friday, May 08, 2009

Thank You, Mom

Thank you, Mom, and I appreciate you so much for...

...always being there for me, no matter what (and I've certainly tested that).
...loving me even when I'm not lovable.
...marrying my wonderful dad, and making it a happy marriage until the day he died.
...giving me your values through example. It was never "do as I say, not as I do" with you.
...making it safe for me to tell you the truth.
...respecting my privacy.
...being a good person through and through. You do the right thing because it's the right thing. I do the right thing because I see that it always pays off.
...having the capacity to truly love two wonderful men: my dad and Lloyd.
...showing me by example how to treat a man: adore him, don't nag him, respect him, have fun with him, flirt with him, dress nicely and put on make-up every day, be someone he always wants to come home to.
...teaching me how to shuffle cards when I was young. I still do it your way.
...giving me 7-Up and Campbell's chicken noodle soup when I was sick. Those comfort foods still soothe and heal me.
...crying when I give you greeting cards that touch you. It makes me feel like I am giving you a gift.
...analyzing the handwriting of my friends and boyfriends when I was growing up. You probably saved me from some bad situations, correction, many bad situations.
...being the mom that my friends always wanted to talk to.
...greeting my friends at the door with a loud, happy "Hello Dere!" It embarrassed me at the time but my friends always laughed and I grew to love it.
...taking me 1,000 places a year before I could drive.
...paying me an allowance.
...teaching me to save no matter what.
...bailing me out in thousands of ways from birth to now.
...doing the horoscopes for me and whatever friend I asked you to. Very enlightening!
...learning the computer and getting e-mail years before your contemporaries. You've fixed your own computer glitches for years, something I can't even always do.
...playing a zillion games of ping pong in our basement with Dad and me.
...teaching Dad how to dance and having those great dance parties in our basement. You had the greatest dance friends and you shared your love for dancing with me.
...going shopping and to lunch with me whenever I visit you. And paying!
...your sense of humor. Your humor is never cruel, and you can laugh at yourself. And when you crack up, it's contagious!
...so many pet phrases I heard over and over. Some are incriminating to either you or me so I won't post them here. :-)
...cooking wonderful dinners for us every night, even though I know that cooking wasn't your favorite thing to do.
...jerking me out of the car when I was choking on a jawbreaker, turning me upside down and slapping my back til it dislodged and I could breathe again.
...teaching me how to roller skate and ride a bike.
...making our home always warm, comfortable, clean, well appointed and a place everyone wanted to spend time in.
...your artistic talent in ceramics (nobody painted those tiny little eyelashes like you did - incredible detail) and oil painting (such lovely scenes you painted).
...giving me piano lessons, even though I fought you over practicing.
...your love of all things blue.
...surviving a near-fatal heart attack, lung cancer, polio and post-polio syndrome, and a myriad of ailments that limit you and give you pain every day.
...your grit, your nerve, your determination to soldier on despite relentless pain and the aftereffects of polio. I don't know how you've done it, how you still do it, and I just hope you know what a great inspiration you are to me.
...trusting me to help you throughout the years and especially now.
...forgiving me, usually before I asked.
...disciplining me. Being a mom when I needed it.
...being a great friend, pal, playmate and mentor, as well as my mom.

I could fill pages and pages and pages of things I appreciate you for. I love you, Mom. I am the most fortunate daughter in the world! Happy Mother's Day!

Sunday, April 12, 2009

New-World Friendship

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" has been attributed to everybody from Chinese general Sun-tsu in 400 BC to Abraham Lincoln to The Godfather's Michael Corleone.

Friends don't always act like friends. A human resources manager told me that the worst clashes in the workplace occur between best friends. They tend to be the most volatile and the rifts often remain permanent.

I've had my so-called best friends deliberately go after the men in my life, and I know my mom's best friends did the same. Fortunately for both of us, that was a long time ago, and those women are long out of our lives.

Two very close friends have fired me, both men, both for things that, in my opinion, were not worth losing a friendship over. One woman friend long ago, one who deliberately sought out a guy I had, uh, dated and she, uh, dated him, fired me after she got fired from her job and I ended up with it a couple of months later. She was so vain that she wanted someone incompetent to get the job so she could look better. As it turned out, I didn't do much better in the job than she had, though for different reasons. (No film at 11)

Come to think of it, another so-called friend went after a guy I'd been very involved with and was still emotionally attached to, the most significant relationship in my life to date at that time. He's the one who told me about it, not her.

It's easier to be friends with people now, in the new world, I think, than ever before, mainly because less is required of each individual friend. The Internet has changed things; our mobility and wanderlust have changed things; lack of job security has changed things. We no longer grow up with, work with and are in the same geographical area with the same few people for 20, 30, 40, 50 years. We don't look to a small circle of friends to meet all of our needs. Our friends (mine, anyway) are spread out all over the country -- the world, actually. They fall into diverse categories. There's one for every mood, need, task and activity.

Now with the online world, especially twitter (which I love!), I feel that I have friends I've never met. I'm not sure I could count on them to bail me out of jail, but I can count on them to provide information, comfort, names and numbers of other resources, and most of them would do what they could to support my efforts, whatever they are. How cool is that?

I used to have a best friend, growing up. Now I have more than one best friend, a lot of good friends, many good pals, and a ton of acquaintances who turn into friends at different times. There are some I like but don't trust, some I trust but don't like so much, some I can tell anything to, some I have narrow conversations with, some who are for fun, some who keep me on track, some who help me go off track. I love my friends; I love having lots and lots of friends. I like the diversity of my friends. I like that I can cultivate so many different sides of myself with my different friends.

My spiritual advisor for the past 25 years tells me that no one is another's friend, that we are all each other's teachers. I like that idea. I can see it, that we are there for each other as teachers, sometimes in ways we like, sometimes not. I like the positive spin on it. But I am not giving up my friends!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Journalists: "Gee Whiz" Approach to Twitter Is Getting Old!

I saw yet another "Gee whiz - look at this Twitter thing" story this morning, this one on "CBS Sunday Morning." There's one every two minutes lately: On "The View," in the Wall Street Journal, on various evening national news programs and morning shows, etc. They all basically just start from zero, explaining in the most elementary terms what Twitter is and gee-whizzing their way through the story. They act like few of us have ever heard of Twitter, let alone are tweeting our hearts out.

Well, guys, as a journalist myself, I know there's such a thing in journalism as a "Day Two" story. That's when the news nugget has already been announced, either by your pub/station/etc. or in general, meaning that there's an assumption that a lot of your audience has already been given the raw news. Breaking the raw news - that's the "Day One" story. The Day Two story, then, advances the story, providing analysis and/or a deeper look.

Twitter has been around for a little over three years. Millions of people now tweet. It's not easy to find out exact numbers and they are rising exponentially anyway, but the point is that Twitter is not brand new. Just because you've never heard of it, Ms. or Mr. Journalist, doesn't mean the rest of the world is as ignorant.

Everybody whose story I've seen in mainstream media acts like they've just discovered Twitter and want to tell us about it. Gee, thanks, but a lot of us are already here and are getting proficient at tweeting, building networks and actually knowing what to do with them for whatever purpose(s) we are out to fulfill. We are ready for the Day Two story, guys!

I first heard about it at a web-oriented American Independent Writers seminar organized by Kristen King about seven or eight months ago and signed up on the spot, from my seat in the audience. (Thank you, Verizon broadband device!) I was shocked when after a couple of days some people I didn't know were following me. Why would they want to do that, I wondered? Now I have 1,452 followers, and I follow 1,256. I personally know about a dozen, yet I consider many of them my cohorts, co-conspirators, allies and some even friends.

Never have I had such access to writers; IT gurus; movie, tv & music stars (Jane Fonda, Ashton Kutcher & Demi Moore, Billy Bush, MC Hammer, Jimmy Fallon, to name just a few); fellow fans of NASCAR, "Dancing with the Stars," "Life on Mars," and people who are interested in discussing all kinds of topics. I have gotten technical advice, instructions (and a video) on cooking omelettes, recommendations and URLs on healthcare solutions, and wisdom on a multitude of subjects. There are people who are willing to promote my book when it comes out, people who pray for me when something goes wrong, people who would do me all kinds of favors and for whom I'd do the same thing. I could get writing jobs and even consulting gigs from my Twitter network, the Twitterverse, as it were.

That's what journalists need to talk about, not just what Twitter is and how gee-whiz interesting it is to microblog 140 characters at a time, but how Twitter really works for the tweeple who tweet!

And then they can write about how businesses are successfully using Twitter to expand their customer base, take care of their existing customers (@comcastcares is a great example of customer service extraordinaire via Twitter, as I know first hand), spread the word on specials or new products, or just be visible. Following @BaskinRobbins, @Starbucks, @DunkinDonuts, and @traderjoes has been fun and has been good for them as well. Individuals who are hawking their wares or services get visibility and customers. I've gone to a wonderful writing seminar put on by @Mike Geffner that I never would've heard of otherwise and joined some professional groups I hadn't previously heard of. There's a receptive audience for every product and service, if these firms know how to find those folks on Twitter or let them find them. That's another Day Two story. Hey, just trying to be helpful!

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Letter to Afghanistan

I'm spoiled and selfish. I sleep in a warm bed every night. I can eat whenever I'm hungry and a lot of times when I'm not. I have plenty of clothes and shoes and coats to wear. I have creams, lotions, powders and gels for everything: rough hands, cuts and bruises, limp hair, squeaky shoes, tarnished silver jewelry, dry contact lenses, and chapped lips. I can buy or rent any CDs and DVDs I want and write on all the paper I want with as many pens as I want. I have little travel sizes of toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, lotion, hair spray, and even baby powder so I can travel with my favorite brands. And I don't share any of these.

Until now.

Last night I went on the web in search of a soldier or other military person I could write to and maybe send some goodies to. I ended up on AnySoldier.com and spent two or three hours poring over the site, finding out what to do, how to do it, and who to write to. That's when it got interesting.

On the site, you can choose any branch of the military to support. I chose the Air Force. So on AnyAirman.com I read letter after letter after letter from AF men and women on active duty in Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates. They described their circumstances -- what kinds of buildings they're in, what "amenities" (refrigerator, microwave, etc.) they have (or don't), what their units are, how many males and females there are there, etc. -- and what they'd like to request from people who want to support them. I figured there would be lots of requests for cookies.

Wrong!

The list of things we take for granted that they don't have is nearly infinite. Here are some they listed: healthy individually packaged snacks (they already have junk food but want to be healthier), individual Crystal Light powders to put in their water bottles, travel-sizes of anything for when they're out in the field for days, magazines, small-size snacks of all kinds to stick in their pockets for the field, gum, phone cards to supplement their two 15-minute calls/week they're allowed, calendars to hang in their rooms, ankle socks (which the laundry seems to keep losing), antibacterial wipes, tampons, brand name anythings as a luxury vs. the generics they get, coffee, beef jerky, candles for birthday celebrations, mini-flashlights, deodorant, small travel reading lights, batteries, Q-tips, nail files, DVDs of TV series, blank CDs and DVDs, earbud earphones, hair ties and barrettes, stationery and notecards, and, most of all, LETTERS! Some said that some of their fellow soldiers, airmen, sailors and Marines get no mail at all and reinforced that any letters from anyone who cares enough to send them to active-duty military folks they didn't know were received like an event and shared with everyone.

How could I not respond? Those are hardly extravagances. I could probably fill up a whole Priority Mail Large Flat-Rate Box and send it for $12 just from scouring my own closets and drawers. And it would all be new!

So I'm going to do it!

I've already gotten my first airman's name and APO address, and I've written him a letter and said I'll be sending him a box for him and whoever else he wants to share it with in a couple of days. I'll send two boxes. They say to not mix food and non-foods in the same box because the food picks up the odors of the non-foods. "My" particular airman is in Afghanistan. Once I get the drill down pat, I'll go back and get another person to communicate with and send goodies to. Who knew that goodies wold be the basics of our lives that we take for granted?

Want to join me in this endeavor? Go to AnySoldier.com or any of several similar sites you can find through Google, Yahoo! or Ask.com and browse around. I'll bet you get hooked like I did.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Things I Want to Get Off My Chest

It's late at night. I'm awake, stewing. So I'm thinking that maybe if I vent and get these things off my chest, I can sleep. Thanks for bearing with me here.

1) Carry-on bags

When I went to Phoenix to see my mom at Christmas, a uniformed woman at the security line at BWI airport stopped me and said my carry-on bag was too big to go through. What?!? It's the same carry-on I've been flying with for the past three years.

I'd gone online and looked up the acceptable dimensions for the various airlines and got a bag the exact maximum size allowed for United Airlines, the one I fly the most. Then it kept tipping over when it was packed. My mom's boyfriend, a fixer-builder-inventor type, put little extensions onto the little feet, which solved the problem but added another inch or so to the length. I've taken that bag, which holds a TON of stuff, on trips all over the U.S. on several different airlines over the past three years. No problems. But all of a sudden it's too big. I was only allowed to continue through security with it at BWI when I got a United supervisor to come with me, who said I'd rearranged some things to make it thinner -- I took out a 1-inch-thick book and put it in my purse -- and I got to keep going.

I had no problems on the way back from Phoenix to BWI. But it's just a different world now (again!) and I could tell it was time to get a smaller bag. Damn! I love my bag. So I went onine and found a little smaller bag, paid for it with PayPal, and it arrived today. It's well-built, it's light, it's the right color (anonymous gray and black) and it's got all of the right handles and pockets. But even though it's an inch or so smaller on all sides, it seems tiny. It will obviously hold MUCH less than my other one. Damn. But I'm going to keep it because I think I have to. I can't risk having my bag snatched away and stuffed into checked baggage. So I'll take less. I won't like it but I'll do it.

I hate the security procedures that I feel are more for show than truly effective at airports. I resent not being able to take more than 3 oz. of liquids or gels just because some ass**** did it once and had evil intentions. Geez. How bizarre. People say, yes, but we've been safe! Well, we don't go through the same check-in trauma on trains, and we've been safe there too. Knock on wood. I'll play the game, as I always have, because I want to fly. And I'll try not to make a big deal out of it. I'll save indulging my inner drama queen for more important things.

2. Pain

All of a sudden, I've got pain in my left hip. All the time. It's supposedly arthritis, so says my rheumatologist. I didn't know what a rheumatologist was six months ago, and now I have my own. My little tiny pain gradually increased over the past couple or three years and now it's rudely intruding on my life. It hurts! It hurts when I sit, when I stand, when I lie down, when I get up from a chair, when I get into or out of a car, when I walk, when I change positions in bed. It hurts to put a sock on my left foot, the pain in my hip is so intense. I can hardly reach to wash that foot or clip or paint my toenails. I hate it. Celebrex helps but maybe 30% compared to what I had hoped.

But my paltry little pain is nothing compared to what my mom suffers from every day. It's anywhere from intense to excrutiating. And it's relentless. I admire her so much for soldiering on, going places, doing things, smiling, and living her life, despite the pain for all these years. The list of causes is longer than my arm. My mom won't take drugs, doesn't want to live life anaesthetized. It's her choice and I respect it.

Pain is a thief of energy. It makes simple tasks a challenge. It is sneaky and cunning and insolent. It's smarter than I am. But, learning a lesson from my mom, my great example in life, I will keep trying to conquer it and I will not let it stop me from living my best life.

3. The Economy

This seemingly sudden poverty mentality is tedious and discouraging. It's destructive and scary. I believe it was the fear of a recession that caused the recession. Yes, the housing situation started things off. We (let's not get into specifically who) caused it ourselves, by creating conditions of false prosperity, much as we did during the dot-com boom when people paid outrageous sums for fantasies that couldn't possibly come true. In both cases, we were bound to get caught.

But then a few people got scared. Then the media seized upon it, blew it up to ginormous proportions, and people bought into it, got scared, and backed off from even normal spending, even many of those who had nothing to worry about. Pretty soon, the whole economy was in the tank. Fear is a powerful beast, and we not only invited him in, but we set up a whole wing in our house for him.

I believe very strongly in the power of positive thinking, to use familiar vernacular. I believe we create our own reality with our mind. I believe the poverty mentality has created more of the poverty mentality. More creates more. But I believe we can think differently and achieve a different result. I believe we don't have to get swept along and sucked into the negative mindset of our society. I am picturing our nation and everyone in it, including me, as prosperous, healthy, happy, free to do what we want, and grateful for our blessings.

So I refuse to let the fear beast into my house. It is not welcome. There is no room for him here. Right now he dominates many homes in our land. But eventually people will tire of the novelty of whining and being afraid, and this beast will lumber away and the whole country will adopt a prosperity mentality again. I can't wait!