L.A.B.O.R Day

Yes, it is that holiday we look forward to and dread at the same time. It is a day set aside for us to remember and observe something that must have been extremely important to someone at some point in time. Few of us really know why we get off work the first Monday in September each year, but I don't know anyone who questions its wisdom.

Labor Day for many marks the end of summer freedom and the beginning of the school year. Or for some, the changing of the seasons--though it really is not the change of seasons. The actual change takes place precisely on September 22, 2008 at 11:44 am EDT.

Let's get down to why this holiday is really important and why it has such a great social impact. I realize that there is some room for discussion on this subject. But since I'm doing the writing and this is my blog, guess who's opinion you are about to hear!

L.A.B.O.R Day--Let's All Begin Our Rediscovery Day. Yes, it's time to switch out those cool revealing summer rags for the richer, warmer colors and more substantial fabrics that make up our fall and winter wardrobe. The comfort of tank tops and shorts becomes a memory of the past and a hope for the future. But for now, we must move on. Put away the straw purse, the white purse, the white shoes and fake tan. Put away the pinks and yellows and baby blues. Its time for the vibrant royal blues, purples, reds and orange tones, rich deep browns and the ever favorite black along with the woolen winter whites.

I'm going to miss my skinny white jeans. I thoroughly enjoyed those this year. I'm going to miss my $100 apricot tank top. (No, I didn't pay that much, but it makes me feel indulgent anyway.) I'll miss my brown Roxie flip-flops. I really enjoyed my sundresses and my new (this season) khaki shorts. I bought some really hot (cool?) summer dresses this year. I'm going to miss them.

I'll move my spring/summer selections to the spare closet and move the fall/winter fare back to my main closet. In doing so, I'll rediscover articles of clothing that I loved at one time, but was so weary of just six months ago. I'll love them again.

But, this exercise will bring back other memories. Memories of shopping. Shopping at Macy's. Shopping at Nordstrom. Shopping in Manhattan. Shopping in Williamsburg. The innate need to go shopping again. To replenish, replace and renew last year's look. I'll, of course, need more black shoes. I think I'll major on dresses this year. Pants are good. I'm sure I'll need some new black ones. You can never have too many, you know.

Have a great L.A.B.O.R Day!

The Journey

They tell us that success is not a destination. It is a journey. That’s good…I guess. But journeys are often forgotten. It is the destination that drives us forward. We desire to get there. We want to arrive.

When I start my five-mile journey several times each week, I begin with a few steps. I check my phone for the time—Wait! I check my phone for the time?!? Yes, I check my phone for the time as I begin. I calculate the time I should reach my destination (my car). Only an overachiever would track such goals...and then try to beat them!

As I approach the one-mile marker, I feel a strong compulsion to turn around and go back. After all, that would make my walk total two miles and that is farther than most people of the world walk in a day. I review this thought process upon reaching each successive half-mile marker. To turn around at Mile Two, I would complete a journey of four miles. That’s not bad. Many would be satisfied with such an accomplishment.

I keep putting one foot in front of the other, leaving my footprints behind, pushing toward my destination.

At Mile Three, I sometimes think I cannot possibly walk two more miles. This is quite a dilemma. To continue seems impossible. The only other alternative -- to turn back -- is even greater. The path is not smooth. There are hills to climb, rough spots and tree roots to trip me. I’m tired. I’m thirsty. I’m discouraged. I’m surrounded by trees and forest on my right and bound by a lake on my left. It’s hard to enjoy the beauty of the journey when you are tired, thirsty and discouraged. So I continue what I’ve been doing; following the path I’ve chosen with my goal, my destination in mind. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other. One small advance comes with each small step.

And so it is with my present life’s journey. I continue doing what I’ve been doing. I keep following the path I’ve chosen. One step at a time. One small advance after the other. I’ll sure be glad when I get there!

Who Says?

If you tell me something, I generally believe it. I just do. All my life I have easily accepted that what people say is true. For instance:

Tadpoles grow legs and turn into frogs. Never seen it happen. Have always believed it, but I’ve pretty much become agnostic on that one.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. I don’t eat an apple a day and my doctor never comes around. In my case, I guess you could say, “A Twinkie a day keeps the doctor away.”

Takes one to know one. What the heck does that mean?

Give a man a fish and he eats for a day; teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime. That’s SO not universally true. What if he lives in the desert where there are no fish?

Time is the one asset of which everyone has an equal amount. This one really gives me trouble. I’ll give in on the fact that each day is technically a 24-hour cycle. However, everyone doesn’t have the opportunity to use those hours in the same way and, therefore, the 24-hour thing becomes a technicality.

For example, I have read about people who sleep only four hours in a 24-hour period. (Again, never seen it, and don't know them personally.) That gives them four more hours in their day than most of us. Could I sleep less? No. Maybe I can make do with less sleep for one day…maybe two…but that schedule is not sustainable.

Men, you are in the shower for three minutes, jump into a pair of pants and a shirt and you’re on your way. For many of us of the female species, it takes a considerable amount of time to groom and preen. Take another hour (or more) off my day. For those girls who are saying, "Hey, I'm ready in 10 minutes," you might consider taking a little more time. It shows.

Some of us need time to ramp up on caffeine for the day, then, we need time to decompress at the end of the day. We need our breaks to stop and readjust mentally. We need nourishment, exercise, email, entertainment, time to plan and to schedule our ‘to do’ lists and plenty of time to worry about what we’re not getting done.

Time is on my side. Simply not true. End of discussion.

Scared to Death!

Scared to death. Afraid. Literally scared to death. Frightened to within an inch of my life. Terrified. Scared the wits out of me. Heart-stopping fright. Panic. Fear.

What’s the deal about fear? Seriously. Do you know anyone who was “literally scared to death”? Or was the person telling you that they were ‘literally scared to death’ literally still breathing? That’s what I thought.

When the kids were little, we went to a theme park with a roller coaster ominously named “The Grizzly.” As the rest of the family got in line, they handed me their hats, sunglasses and all other items deemed valuable—just in case. I thought about it and said to myself, “Am I going to spend the remaining years of my life sitting on a park bench while my family enjoys the rush and excitement of theme park rides?” I found the strength in my heart to say, “Yes, I am.” They returned with glowing faces and tales of being scared to death described in terms of awesome, cool, and, “You’ve gotta ride this.”

I had to decide, am I going to play it safe every time? Am I going to sit and watch while others experience the thrills of life? I looked that Grizzly right in his gnarled tracks and said, “No! You are not going to intimidate me any more.” I turned to the fam and said, “Ride it with me.” Granted. This was a carefully calculated risk. As far as I knew, no one had ever died on this ride. The statistics of surviving a roller coaster were probably higher than those of driving to the theme park. But I squared my shoulders, passed out caps and sunglasses to their rightful owners and stepped in line. As the safety harness was latched into place, I remember thinking, “If I die, I die. I had hoped for a nobler death, but, hey, we don’t always get to choose.” I survived.

This was not the end of my brave adventures—my triumph over death-defying feats. I have ridden stand-up roller coasters. I have parasailed. I stood before a crowd of 7,000 and gave a speech. I have zip-lined through the jungles of Costa Rica. I glided down a half-mile water slide of cold mountain water in a foreign country that has not yet considered the sanity of safety standards. I traipsed through the jungles of El Salvador at night. I have walked alone through New York City. I have gone scuba diving with a shark...that’s right. There was just one. I had not planned on him being there. I have snorkeled with barracuda. I have climbed to the top of a live volcano and looked down into the depths of its hell.

Look at all the beauty, the excitement, the thrills I would have missed if I had listened to my fears. Sure, I'm afraid. I'm scared to death. I will find courage in my fear. Fear is good.

What a Bargain!

I am so weary of hearing about the price of a gallon of gas. It is what it is and I notice we keep buying it regardless. Whether the outrageous price is due to a shortage…or a conspiracy…or a manipulation of the futures market, we keep buying and consuming the golden fuel. We can’t live without it and we are quite unwilling to significantly alter our lifestyle. We sure drive a hard bargain! Let’s send our message loud and clear: “No matter how high you raise the price, we are going to buy! We’ll show you!”

But I am extremely upset over what I witnessed in the grocery store. It’s been a while since I purchased ice cream. Oh, I may have driven through Dairy Queen a time or two for a chocolate dipped cone. And I seem to remember a trip to Ben & Jerry’s for a tiny (but expensive) dip of cookies ‘n’ cream. So you will understand my shock at what I encountered in the freezer section of my local grocer last week.

I had placed my staple items in the cart. Diet Coke, Fresca, Diet Coke, bananas, whole wheat bread, jelly, peanut butter, 1% milk, Diet Coke and Diet Coke. I experienced an epiphany on Aisle 7. I wanted a half-gallon of Breyers butter pecan ice cream. As I opened the freezer and reached for the carton, I thought my eyes were experiencing some sort of optical illusion. The half-gallon carton looked the same but smaller. Sure enough. The half-gallon package is now 1.5 quarts. I looked at the price. It had gone from $3.79 to $5.69.

The only reasoning I could come up with was this: Someone at the Breyers team must have sat in the Monday morning meeting and said, “I know! Rather than to raise the price of ice cream, let’s just cut the package size down by 25%. I doubt our consumers will even notice as long as we keep the same look.”

Not to be outdone, the new kid at the table said, “A true ice cream lover will notice. Let’s just raise the price. As long as we keep the increase under two bucks, no one will complain…look what they’ve done to gasoline. Who’s going to notice ice cream? We won’t do it in one jump. We’ll raise it in slow small increments over 21 days.”

The CEO clapped his hands in delight. “Give these kids each a corner office! This is brilliant. We’ll reduce the size of the carton significantly AND increase the price dramatically. This is pure genius!” Turning to the oldies at the table, he said, “See, this is innovation. This is forward thinking. We must move beyond traditional value-based thinking.”

We, the consumers, are left scratching our collective head, thinking, “Huh? What just happened?”

Meanwhile, next week we’ll save 70 cents on the frozen calories with our VIC card and think, “What a bargain! I paid only $4.99 for a quart and a half of ice cream.” We’ll be perfectly pleased as we sit in front of the TV and consume our completely renewable, all natural resource…and look at the money we are saving on gas by staying home!

Surprise!

Oh, pu-lease! Grow up! I don’t like surprises.

I don’t like it when you walk up behind me, put your hands over my eyes and say, “Guess who!” I immediately give up…because I don’t care. “Surprise! It’s me.” Whoopdy-do-da! I’m thrilled.

Please don’t ever jump out from behind something and surprise me. I could end up in the hospital and you could end up with injuries and we’ll both feel bad.

Are you aware of the outrageous number of people who die annually as a result of surprise parties? The mortality rate is astounding, actually. Think about it. You get off work on Friday evening. You’ve had a really tough week. You’re exhausted by the time you stop by the grocery store and the movie store. Your arms are filled with Diet Cokes, microwave popcorn, Breyer's butter pecan ice cream and DVDs. The house is dark, you flip on the light and 50 people jump out of closets and from behind the furniture screaming, “Surprise!” We’re talking here about possibly serious strokes and heart attacks. And that’s supposed to be fun? For whom?

Or better yet, some woman tells her husband she is going to visit a sick aunt for the weekend. He walks into his own house with his own girlfriend; only to find out his wife deliberately lied to him. She was planning his surprise birthday party all along. How fair is that? This one situation could lead to multiple homicidal deaths…all because the wife wanted to see the surprised look on his face.

Oh, and by the way, don’t even attempt to give me a surprise party. I’ll know. I will. Someone will always slip up. Always. You ask, “Com’on, seriously, did you suspect anything?” You mean did it set off any alarms when Susan asked what she should bring to my party on Friday? Or Aunt Erma asked what time she should be there? No, of course these questions totally went over my head. Didn’t suspect a thing! Now you’re forcing me to lie or burst your bubble. It puts a lot of pressure on me.

I have a strong belief that surprises are not for the benefit of the recipient, but for the giver. It’s all about seeing that two second look of utter shock and confusion on the face of the surprisee. It’s all about catching the honoree completely unawares. It’s all about pulling off the ultimate practical joke. What other motive could possibly precipitate such a plan?

My preference would be to enjoy the process. In the weeks leading up to the event, let me savor the fact that you care enough to do this for me. Let me know so I can brush my teeth and have on a clean shirt, deodorant and lipstick. If it’s at my house, I would like the opportunity to clean the bathrooms and put out full rolls of toilet paper before the guests arrive. Give me an opportunity to review the guest list so the real surprise doesn’t come in the fact that you’ve invited people I don’t even know or like.

Now, please don’t confuse other surprises with unexpected gifts. Unexpected gifts are perfectly acceptable for any occasion or for no occasion. You can seldom go wrong with an unexpected gift. There are exceptions, I suppose. Like the time my husband surprised me with a kayak for my birthday. A kayak! Do I look like I would want a kayak? Has the man lived with me all these many years and yet, he thinks I would enjoy a kayak? We laughed all the way to the jewelry store!

Writer's Block

But, of course! I can write about trivial matters day after day after long weary day. I can think of things that happened yesterday, last year, even years ago that I want to write about. I can think of novels, storylines, plays, songs, poems. I overflow with words and clever inspiring subjects. I am witty, entertaining…now I’m definitely veering into fiction.

Then, one day, a newspaper columnist features me in an article. I achieve instant fame. Fame that lasts for just an instant, I might add. I thought I’d get at least 15 minutes, right? I receive emails, hits on my blog site and pats on the back. People stop me in the grocery store. A State Delegate congratulates me. Admirers clamor for my autograph. Ok, I’m getting carried away again.

I think to myself, “Hey, this is fun! I’m going to go write another blog! My public wants more!”

So I go sit with my computer. Nothing. Nada.

I go on my walk for inspiration. Nope. None there.

I park myself in my sunroom. I sit at my computer again. It just sits there with me. Not a word. I put my fingers on the keys. My fingers and the computer are willing, but my mind is a total blank. No direction. No muse. Zero. Zilch.

Friends have made plenty of suggestions. Some are good suggestions and bear consideration. You will probably read about them here one day.
· “Write about cell phones—everyone’s best friend and pet peeve.”

· “Write about your colonoscopy—you could save lives.” (A lofty motive, grant you, but you won’t see pictures here!)

· “Write about your business.”

· “Write about me—I’m interesting. Did I tell you about the time I…”

· “Write about Obama…McCain…Hillary…” I’m sorry, WHO?

· Pap smears (Oh, yeah, lots of humor there!), growing grass, osteoporosis, why leaves change colors—all great topics, no doubt.

I’m just not inspired. .......... Still nothing. ............. Stay tuned! ........... Hey! I just got an idea! Check back in a little while.