Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Ho. Ho. Ho. Green Santa?


As frequently happens, it was about mile four on my unseasonably wonderful late-December bike ride yesterday that I had an epiphany. Have you ever noticed that the Jolly Green Giant and Santa Claus use the same favorite phrase: “Ho, ho, ho.”? That elves and leprechauns are both of extremely short stature? Leprechauns wear green, the Green Giant wears green…need I say more? Add to the mix that Santa watches out for the “good boys and girls” and that mothers for nearly all eternity have counseled that “good boys and girls eat their veggies.” I think I may be on to something here.

Yes, Santa and the Green Giant must be siblings, at the very least, and quite possibly twins separated at birth. Don’t let the height difference fool you. Remember Danny DeVito and the Arnold Swartzenegger in the movie “Twins”? One key word…fraternal. As in not identical.

The effects of environment must not be dismissed. Clearly the boys were raised in an environment in which generosity was a family value. Mom very well may have been the Tooth Fairy. And Dad? Well, my best bet is that he was a tailor. Those outfits are pretty detailed and wouldn’t come cheap without a family connection. The boys were raised to be leaders, each assembling a pack of short followers. Santa is the brawn of the family business, working diligently with his band of elves to build the millions, gazillions, of gifts delivered on Christmas Eve. The Green Giant, meanwhile, is the brains of the operation. He and his band of little green men keep the list of naughty and nice. A list based upon vegetable consumption.

Think about it. Do you know anyone truly evil who is a vegetable-lover? … I’m waiting … just shout out those names … see … couldn’t think of anyone, have you?

  • Charles Manson. Not known for vegetable consumption. Wacky tobaccy is not a vegetable.

  • Adolph Hitler. Only known vegetable consumed = kraut.

  • Saddam Hussein. You don’t get that waistline with cauliflower. Lots of lamb, little cruciferous vegetables.

  • And I don’t want to point fingers, but isn’t there a certain republican president who made a disdain for broccoli famous??? He’s not truly evil, but a word of warning “TURN BACK! Embrace your veggies! It’s not too late!”


Now that I’ve let the cat out of the bag, Green Santa-wise, there is no excuse for being on the naughty list. Find a veggie you like and eat the recommended number of servings. Tell your kids, too. What do you have to lose? 2009 meal time battles will be solved by a wise nod of the head toward the window and the words “Jolly Green Santa”. Enjoy.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

New Years Resolutions

Pondering your resolutions for 2009? Better listen here before you commit.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eOu-jVuuxo

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Tragic News from Alaska


Thanks to blogger "Lesteraffe" on Life's Rich Pageant for sharing this "Tragic News from Up North" Shamelessly stolen by me...but too priceless not to share.


Christmas Eve Eve

Last chance to "Run, Run, Rudolph"!!
With thanks to Santa Chuck Berry.
Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCTeXUkTFwQ&feature=PlayList&p=D21C236BC3D5CEDF&index=14

Monday, December 22, 2008

PC Monday

Double the holiday listening/watching to celebrate two more days till Christmas...with thanks to one and only Adam Sandler.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyS7vGCTBuQ&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vrd9p47MPHg&feature=related

Enjoy!

Saturday, December 20, 2008

4 more days till Christmas...

...guess it's time to decorate the tree!
Here's a Christmas classic for the slightly twisted. The video is rumored to have been recorded in Dr. Elmo's living room in 1983. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPaGQEskSKM

Friday, December 19, 2008

Happy Friday!

Not usually a big fan of Mariah Carey, but you simply can not escape smiling when you watch/listen to this. My own private Friday celebration. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-8rY0Fyws20

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Merry Christmas

The Christmas Letter you’ll never receive:

Well, 2008 has been a busy year for the Kovar’s. I know that’s the way all the other irritating Christmas letters begin, but I promise you no such drivel here.

2007 closed with a bang. Literally. Nick backed his brand new father-in-law's car into a stone wall. Yes, the car was new, as was the father-in-law. We’re pretty sure that Judge Judy is going to take the case, so watch for them on late night TV sometime in 2009. The real good news is that we don’t believe the DUI charges will stick. Besides, we think that was excessive anyway. So what if our sweet boy had a couple eggnogs. Wouldn’t you if you’d just lost your 7th game of Scattergories to a 2nd grade team of know-it-alls?

January 2008 found Mary knee deep in mud in Belize. We’re closing the year with the news that she’s found a foot doctor willing to tackle the pesky foot fungus she brought home. Now, if only she’d lose the Chicken Foot Soup recipe that the nice lady in the Mayan village shared with her. Darn it, there are just too many one legged chickens in Warren County now – she’s bound to get caught one of these days.

Emily had an interesting semester abroad this past spring. Unfortunately, instead of studying she spent most of her time trying to meet an Austrian doctor. We tried and tried to explain socialized medicine to her and that it wouldn’t work out to make her a lady of leisure. But, she wouldn’t listen. If it wasn’t an asthma attack, it was the vomiting and diarrhea. You know, even a doctor CAN resist a woman with the runs. So, we had to ship her home a few weeks early and break the news to her that she would be studying to finish that college degree. We’re thinking that a degree in counseling will pretty well equip her to work for minimum wage at the outbound call center located here in Bowling Green. If you are truly a friend to this family, please get yourself off that federal “no call” list. That salesperson calling at dinner time just might be our little Emmy. She’s got two aging parents to start to support.

This summer found the whole family at the Prusa family reunion in western Nebraska. If we didn’t already feel bad enough about ourselves, the rest of the darn family finished the job. Thank goodness we were mostly buzzed from the enormous quantities of sugar available in the Cornhusker Crumble dessert, so the personal and financial successes of the rest of the family didn’t seem so gloomy. Mary decided that the 20-something hours of arguing on the way there was enough fun for one summer, so she cut out early with her folks. This meant she missed the big livestock show in Chadron – the highlight of the trip, if you ask most of us. And you question why we don’t travel more.

Travelling for more than 20 hours in a van with a large, exuberant Golden Retriever isn’t so bad. The key to enjoyment is nasal congestion and good cross ventilation. Whichever Prusa thought it was funny to feed the dog buffalo chili the night before we left, let us warn you…Revenge is a dish best served in large quantities.

Matt is doing well in Charlotte North Carolina. He played a Nazi in the Diary of Anne Frank at the Community Theater this spring. At least he wasn’t playing a Republican is all we have to say. He lived through a nearly yearlong stint with a crazy menopausal boss at the Lindt Chocolate shop before landing a fulltime job at Starbucks. We say, why deal with that crap on the job? If you want to spend time with a crazy, menopausal woman, come on HOME! At least you can do laundry for free and get a home cooked bowl of soup.

Matt’s long-term girlfriend Michele may be the only one in the whole bunch with a lick of sense. She goes back and forth from home in Charlotte, to Evansville Indiana. She claims to work for the University Theater in 3 to 4 month stints. Never mind that when we called, the Southern Indiana University staff said “Michele who?” It’s OK, we understand. Everybody knows that in 2008 higher education there is no room (or money) for any of that liberal, namby pamby, boys-in-tights Shakespearean stuff. We’re figuring that the University Theater is a movie house and that Michele is either poppin the corn, or running the projector. Either way we’re real proud of her, but we don’t like to let on that we know her secret…shhhhh!

Our daughter-in-law Kristen is still working very hard to get both Nick and his cat (Loki) shaped up. God Bless her. She’s got the cat drinking out of a water glass now, just like a proper person. Nick seems a bit squeamish about drinking out of the same glass, but she’s a strong woman. She says “You brought the darn cat into this marriage, if you want to waste another glass for yourself, fine. But I’m not cleaning up after you two.” Personally, we don’t think that Nick’s breath smells that much like Cat Chow now and you’d hardly notice the occasional stray cat hair caught in his teeth. We think he’s made the right choice. Nick and Kristen sure have an active social life in Nashville with parties, and dinners, and hockey games, and game nights, and football watching. We’re sure that they aren’t avoiding us. After all, our request for a loan wasn’t THAT big. Sheesh, they’re both working at darn fine jobs, and we NEED to keep the phone on. They’re young, they can rebuild their savings. And we WILL repay them when we win the lotto.

Steve’s job is … well … a job. What do you expect, bliss? It’s a JOB, people. He dons his 1950’s style park service uniform and heads off to save the world from dirty restrooms and overgrown park side roads. “Preserving and protecting for the enjoyment of future generations” yeah, right. That Roosevelt dude was out-of-touch wasn’t he? Steve would be better off inventing “A National Park Cave Adventure” for Wii.

He’d like to throw in the towel and quit, but then who’d pay for the family essentials like Diet Pepsi and corn chips? Heaven knows we can’t depend on Mary. #1 she works for a state university, #2 the university is located in Kentucky, where overeducated means missing less than one-quarter of the senior year, and #3 she’s got a Goodwill shopping addiction that won’t quit. There’s no 12-step program for that kind of habit. Looks like we’ll both be working until we’re 80-something or we pay off the MasterCard whichever comes first. MasterCard isn’t looking good.

So, as our vet always says when she sees our pets – “Fleas Navidad”.
And a Happy New Year from our double-wide to yours.
Steve and Mary K.

Feel better now? I thought so.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

101 in 1001 Update

Completed
Go to a concert (9/13/08)
Make Christmas gifts for my work buddies. (12/08)
Go to a movie that Steve wants to see that I don’t. (10/08)
Have a girl’s day with my daughter and daughter-in-law(s). (11/08)
Do something nice for a stranger anonymously. (10/08)
Pay for someone’s coffee or tea anonymously at Starbuck’s or another coffee shop (10/08)
Sort and purge PhD stuff. (12/08)


In progress
Read 101 books (textbooks don’t count!) (9)
Go on a date with Steve once a month. (12/08)
Clean a closet once a month for one year. (12/08)
Go to 2 FOP’s a semester while Emily is at Franciscan (Fall #1: 10/08)

So far, so good!

Monday, November 17, 2008

Muddy Waters

Was there ever a time when life was simple? Right or wrong. Good or evil. Moral or immoral. Honest or dishonest. Sinner or saint. Cop or criminal. Ethical or unethical. Proper or improper. Appropriate or inappropriate. The last time for simplicity may have been when only Adam populated the earth. Add Eve to the picture and things immediately became more cloudy, “It’s not my fault, the snake made me do it!”

The recent election, and the fallout since then brings me to this slightly morose state of thought. Especially as a Catholic. I read, and see on CNN, instances of Catholics turned away at communion. Catholics told to repent if they voted for Obama. Staunch Catholics proudly justifying such actions. I am appalled.

What about “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1), or “…for whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return” (Luke 6:35-38). Dare I even throw this one into the mix, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen” (1John 4:20).

Discussions about life issues are never simple. Never easy. All the more reason why we must be gentle with each other. And respectful. Here are my random thoughts, leading to random internal struggles…

  • Yes, abortion is murder. But isn’t any other kind of wrongful death also murder?

  • Does Pro-life mean only pro-birth? Doesn’t what goes on for the rest of life matter?

  • I am pro-life. I believe that life begins at conception. I believe that life continues until natural death. But, what about the death penalty? That’s not a natural death. Where does that leave a “good” Catholic in considering a candidate who is “pro-life” and “pro-death penalty”?

  • What about supporting life after birth? What about kids living in cars? Single parents who can’t afford food and medical care in the same month? Schizoprenics who have no home, no medication?

  • What about senior citizens cutting blood pressure pills into quarters because they can’t afford a prescription each month?

  • What about the hard working individual whose company schedule allocates just enough hours so that no benefits, including health insurance, are due? Look no further than our own government, many of these are FEDERAL employees.

  • What about the hourly employee laid-off with little severance, while the CEO opens a golden parachute and leaves with millions?

  • How about brave, earnest, young men sent to fight in a war deemed “immoral” by JPII? Do I support the candidate that supports that effort, but labels him- or her-self “pro-life”?

  • Doesn’t minimum wage mean a wage that brings in enough to live minimally?

  • One candidate may be someone who opposes abortion, but also opposes health care reform, minimum wage adjustments, support for the small business owner and social security reform. Who supports the deathpenalty and a military response to Iraq, Iran, Afganistan, and various citizen protests on US soil. How can they be the only “pro-life choice”?

  • Why do we demonize people based upon one portion of a lifetime of decisions?

  • Why if I am a democrat can I not be anti-abortion, yet also anti-death penalty, pro-healthcare reform, and pro-military restraint? Why must all democrats be stuffed into the pigeon-hole of a “liberal anti-lifer”? I’m not.

  • Why are all Republicans labeled as the “pro-life” candidate? They’re not. Life isn’t that simple.

  • How does the priest know who to withhold communion from, for a vote for the “wrong” candidate? What if we believe that voting is a private, confidential process? Do those who speak out risk excommunication, but the quiet voter is OK? A couple years later if the voter thinks "whoa, I made a mistake" are they back in the fold? Does the voter have to repent publicly? Wear a hairshirt?

  • What happened to some things being between an individual and God?


I want to be a good Catholic. And I want to be a good citizen of the United States. I wish it was simple to meet both desires. I don’t believe, however, that there is only one pathway to achieve that aspiration.

We are human beings. Filled with flaws. We are not put on this year to judge each other’s morality in instances of such muddled and muddy waters. I can only pray. Pray with all my heart and all my soul for clarity. For direction as to the path that God wishes me to take. For forgiveness if I have made wrong choices. And for the strength to see Jesus in the faces of all those I meet…even if they didn’t vote as I did.

You see, I think it’s between me and God. And the other voters and God. Especially when the issue isn’t simple. God only knows (literally). Amen.

Friday, September 5, 2008

I don't usually do this..

but...this time I can't help myself...must post...

Top 10 reasons why Sarah Palin is qualified to be Vice-president of the United States.

#10 – She can pronounce the word “nuclear”.
#9 – Well suited for foreign policy; being from Alaska she knows a lot about the “cold shoulder”.
#8 – We really need someone in leadership with oil interests at heart.
#7 – Can say “Wassila” with a straight face.
#6 – Understands what to do with Federal $$: Supported the Bridge to Nowhere
#5 – Skilled at talking the talk, but not walking the walk: Claims to be fiscally conservative, but as mayor, increased spending in Wassila by 33%, increased taxes by 38%.
#4 – Husband already has title of “First Dude” (See Anchorage Daily News http://dwb.adn.com/news/politics/story/8924080p-8824177c.html)
#3 – Not afraid to use power: as mayor, asked the director of the Wassila Public Library how she could go about banning books.
#2 – Already a cover girl
And

#1 – Two words…

Dick Cheney

Friday, August 29, 2008

Bicycle Hero

Did I mention that I am married to Lance Armstrong? OK, not THE Lance Armstrong. And, in fact, his name isn’t Lance or Armstrong. But, he is my bicycling hero.

Are you sitting down? Please do, for safety’s sake. The shock of what I am about to say could cause you to collapse in surprise. Okay, maybe not, but it is always good to sit while you are using a computer. Here goes…. two weeks ago HH rode home from Steubenville OH (460 miles)… unsupported… in 4 riding days. Whew, I get tired just typing that mileage. What a guy.

The story: DD (Emily) had to be back at Franciscan University on Aug. 9 for RA training. We were in Nebraska during the week prior to Aug 9 (see previous blog “Ft. Bob”). So, we flew her back to Pittsburgh from Omaha. Steubenville and Franciscan University are about 30 miles from the Pittsburgh airport. Enter the wacky plan proposed by HH: When we get back to KY, he will pack Emily’s car with all the essentials needed to live in a dorm, drive to Steubenville, help Em set up her room, and then ride his bike home. “What do you think?” he asked.

What do I think? I think I need to see if your life insurance is caught up. I think that this may be about the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of. And, dear husband, do you realize that we are talking about a bike ride back from O-H-I-O? That’s what I think.

Here’s what I said: “Great idea.” I am nothing if not the Queen of the Kingdom of Supportive Spouses. And so, on Monday, Aug. 11 I waved farewell as a seriously overloaded Honda Civic pulled out of the driveway with HH’s beloved “Streak” riding on a rack strapped to the rear of the car.

Too bad HH didn’t keep a journal of his adventure. Much like Lewis and Clark, it would give insight into travels through uncharted territory (or at least through territory where few folk drive since the advent of the interstate system). Since he didn’t journal, I will be forced to take literary liberties with the story.

Steve’s Journal (if he’d kept one):
Epic Journey Day 0: Today, I become the only man to ever sleep in St. Clare dormitory at Franciscan University. It is strangely uneventful. I guess I really am middle-aged. Tomorrow I leave on the journey that no one has ever taken before. I am risking flat tires, sunburn, and flying insects galore to return to home and hearth. I sure hope that I can milk this for some sympathy and favors when I get home. Must remember to tell Mary about the events of my daily ride with a slight quiver of fatigue in my voice and always end with “But, it’s OK. I can make it. It’s worth it to take care of our daughter.” Oh yeah, this will be good.

Epic Journey Day 1: I came, I saw, I rode. And rode. And rode. Did I mention that I rode today? Found myself in Zanesville OH today with sunlight to spare. So, I called home and left a message saying “It’s only 35 more miles to Lancaster, I think I’ll head there.” Boy, that ought to get Mary’s goat…she’ll think that her 10 mile rides are really whimpy. I am so diabolical.

Here’s what I notice about Ohio roads: #1 they have nice wide shoulders, #2 the shoulders are pretty clean, #3 I haven’t had a driver honk, show me a one-finger wave, or otherwise give me grief all day long, and #4 this hilly crap is getting old, give me some flat land! Hey! Is that a Hampton Inn I see in the distance?

Epic Journey Day 2: I feel refreshed as I start riding today. A hot shower, delicious dinner at Olive Garden, good night's sleep, and free breakfast make for a happy bicyclist. The only thing that can make today better is some flat roads.

Epic Journey Day 3: Arrived in Cincinnati last evening and caught up with my brother Mark. Comfy bed and family to hang with, does it get any better? I’m going to stay here another night. I am doing laundry, planning to canoe, and go to the movies to see “Mummy”. Great! Note to self: be sure to not let Mary know I am having fun. Maybe I should whimper a bit and complain about aching muscles? Yeah, that ought to do it. Is a heartfelt, “I miss you” over the top, or just the right touch? Hmmmm. It is so hard being a husband; I have to be on my toes at all times.

Epic Journey Day 4: The first 30 miles were on a section of “Rails to Trails”. Awesome. If only the entire route to Bowling Green were as nice. Today I started the confusing part of the ride, where I have to change highway numbers over and over again to weave my way safely towards home. I surely could tell when I entered Kentucky. The nice shoulders disappeared. Instead narrow, pock-marked, gravel strewn pseudo-shoulders appeared. And within 15 minutes of being back in Kentucky I had my first harassment by a driver. A motorcycle driver. He clearly saw that Streak and I were a real threat to his manhood, poor sap.

Tonight I am in Owenton KY. My hostess is a combination motel owner/operator, waitress, and school bus driver. Must remember to mention that to Mary the next time she complains about how busy she is. Getting a room in Owenton was an adventure. It required a phone call to and from my favorite daughter-in-law, some prayer, and the luck of a guest leaving unexpectedly. Who’d have ever guessed that there would be a rush on rooms in Owenton KY?? But, I’m safe, and clean, and full from a tasty meal at a mom-and-pop cafe, served by (who else?) the owner/operator/driver/waitress. Best of all, I have a stash of food for morning. Chocolate donuts, breakfast of champion bicyclists. Life is good.

Epic Journey Day 5: Today will be my last day of riding. If I’m not at home, I will be too darn close to spend another night in a motel. I’m going to travel some familiar roads today, past Hodgenville, Bardstown, Mumfordville, Horse Cave and Cave City. It’s been fun being an oddity. I’ve met some interesting people who wondered what I was up to “in those tight sissy shorts”.

Epic Journey Epilogue: So, I guess it’s time to reflect upon this journey. I traveled 460 miles in 4 days of riding for an average of 115 miles per day. I despise one pair of my cycling shorts and I swear to never wear them again – of course that is presuming that I don’t die of an infection from chafing all the skin off my thighs on this ride. Cycling is hungry work. M&M’s are good energy food. Gatorade is not a luxury.

The End. (cue music and applause)

For all Hollywood big shots reading this entry, I will be available to work on the screen play. I think Meryl Streep should portray me. It’s eerie how much we resemble each other. Strong, brave, and beautiful wife taking care of the family homestead as her spouse goes off to face new and potentially dangerous challenges. The wind blows through my disheveled long blond hair as I wave a tearful farewell, not knowing if we will ever see each other again. Steve Carrell should play HH. And Streak must appear as himself

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Want a challenge?

This week I read the most interesting idea on another blog. So I am jumping on the bandwagon…it is nice to have goals and admittedly, I LOVE lists! Anyone care to join me?

The mission should you choose to accept…
- Complete 101 preset tasks in 1001 days.

The criteria…
- Tasks must be specific (ie. no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable, or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (ie. represent some amount of effort on your part).

Between Aug. 31, 2008 and May 28, 2011 (my 34th wedding anniversary!!), these are the things I want to accomplish:

Personal

  1. Post on my blog weekly, for at least 8 consecutive weeks.
  2. Write a letter (not e-mail) once a week.
  3. Call a sibling weekly.
  4. Read 101 books (textbooks don’t count!).
  5. Lose 50 pounds.
  6. Work out 5 times a week for 3 consecutive months.
  7. Drink 80 ounces of water daily for 6 months.
  8. Try a new cuisine (Thai?).
  9. Be in bed before 10:30pm for a month.
  10. Swim twice a week for a month.
  11. Floss for 30 days straight.
  12. Go to a concert.
  13. Take a dance class.
  14. Wear sunblock every day from May 15 to September 15.
  15. Shave my legs 3 times a week for 3 months ;-)
  16. Watch the sunrise on a beach or mountain.
  17. Finish my NP.
  18. Get a new job.
  19. Walk 1000 miles in a year.
  20. Bike 2000 miles in a year.
  21. Don’t curse (aka cuss) for a week.
  22. Complete a whole tooth whitening kit without missing a day.
  23. Journal 5 times a week for 3 months.
  24. Run a 5K.
  25. Read 3 non-fiction books.
  26. Enter a recipe in the Pillsbury Cook-Off.
  27. Make homemade bread.
  28. Bring my lunch to work every day for one month.
  29. Select my clothes (for work) the night before for one month.
  30. Try a new dish at an old favorite restaurant.
  31. Do not buy coffee (or any other beverage) at a coffee shop for one month.
  32. Have 3 servings of dairy daily for one month.
  33. Consume my 60 g. of protein every day for a week.
  34. Go bowling.
  35. Fly a kite.
  36. Jump rope.
  37. Walk to work 101 times.
  38. Get a massage.
  39. Do not eat after 7 pm for one month.
  40. Go to the dentist,. as recommended, every 6 months.
  41. Go to Nashville meetings 9 out of 12 months in 2009 and 2010.
  42. Look in the mirror and say something positive to myself everyday.
  43. Don’t make a joke about my size, or other physical feature, for one week.

Creativity

  1. Make my Mom a quilt.
  2. Make my Goddaughter a quilt.
  3. Learn to knit.Scrapbook our European adventure.
  4. Take a quilting class.
  5. Finish a counted cross-stitch Christmas stocking.
  6. Sort the boxes of photos and get them in albums.
  7. Make Christmas gifts for my work buddies.

(50 total)

Love

  1. Go on a date with Steve once a mont.
  2. Hide a surprise love note for Steve twice a month.
  3. Go to a movie that Steve wants to see that I don’t.
  4. Take Steve on a weekend get-away.
  5. Have breakfast with Steve, outside in the backyard, on 12 Saturdays.
  6. Make one of Steve’s favorite dishes once a month.
  7. Get Steve something he would never get himself.
  8. Tell Steve thank-you when he says I’m beautiful instead of making a negative comment about myself, 20 times.

(58 total)

Friends and Family

  1. Do not watch TV for a week.
  2. Go camping…real camping in a tent!
  3. Get family photos done.
  4. Have a weekly game night.
  5. Go a week without using the computer at home to do work or check e-mail.
  6. Do not play computer games for one month.
  7. Each month send a card or care package to each of the kids, for 12 months.
  8. Have a dinner party once a month for 6 months.
  9. Stay at the Wig Wam motel.
  10. Go canoeing.
  11. Visit one of Steve’s sibs.
  12. Visit one of my sibs.
  13. Go to an event of a niece or nephew (graduation, play, dance recital, soccer game).
  14. Call a friend 5 days a week for one month.
  15. Have a girl’s day with my daughter and daughter-in-law(s).
  16. Go with Steve to a marathon in another country.

(74 total)

Charity

  1. Do something nice for a stranger anonymously.
  2. Do something nice for someone in my family anonymously.
  3. Purge and donate 101 items to St. Vincent DePaul, Goodwill, etc.
  4. Pay for someone’s coffee or tea anonymously at Starbuck’s or another coffee shop.
  5. Do a service ministry.

(79 total)

Home

  1. Cook at home 7 times a week for 1 month.
  2. Try one new recipe a month for a year.
  3. Make a will.
  4. Clean a closet once a month for one year.
  5. Make a sweet dessert only once a week for 6 months.
  6. Paint the front hallway.
  7. Work with Steve in the yard, every other week during one consecutive spring, summer, and fall.
  8. Talk to a neighbor once a week for 6 months.
  9. Sort and purge PhD stuff.
  10. Sort and purge magazines every 3 months.

(89 total)

Spiritual

  1. Try a new style of prayer.
  2. Go on a retreat.
  3. Add to my spiritual log once a month.
  4. Say a rosary every day for 6 months.
  5. Offer up an act of sacrifice one a week, for the intention of someone I love.
  6. Say a prayer before the start of every meeting at work.
  7. Go to 2 FOP’s a semester while Emily is at Franciscan.
  8. Go to a daily mass 101 times.
  9. Coordinate a spiritual book group.

(98 total)

Finishing Up

  1. Write a thank you e-mail to the person whose blog suggested this.
  2. Put $1 into a box for every item I cross off and then do something fun with it at the end of 1001 days.
  3. For every item on the list not completed at the end of the 1001, donate $1 to charity.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Riding the hide

For anyone reading the previous blog entry and wondering what is "riding the hide"? Here is a priceless video of my daughter-in-law, Kristin, riding the hide:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVMJ2hE4xDk

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Ft. Bob

Quick…what do you get when you combine a Xerox salesman with three redheads, five more-than-age 50-somethings, two southern belles, a map of South Dakota, a laptop computer and projector, one energized golden retriever, 5,000 motorcycles, a herd of buffalo, a pair of scissors and a cereal box? Well, an incomplete list for one thing….but, more importantly…the 2008 Prusa family reunion.

I imagine with the passing of a week since the reunion ended, Mom and Dad have recovered enough to ask themselves: “Who were those people? And why do they say they are related to us?”

Let me explain. It all began with a Thanksgiving Meatloaf. Okay, so maybe going back to how Mom and Dad met is taking the story back too far (or as HH would say: “Let me back up a bit here…”). But the point remains the same, Mom and Dad: you brought us into this world, you have to claim us.

For my family, it was a National Lampoon worthy event. Five states, 1200 miles, two time zones, a dozen bathroom stops (each way), and our darn dog still wouldn’t just lie down and sleep. As far as I’m concerned, on our next trip she’s driving. All that boundless energy would be put to good use. HH, DD and I would be very happy to snooze our way to Western Nebraska.

Then there was the exciting scenic…sights and well…smells.
DD: “Euwww, what is that?”
GITYM (Gorgeous, intelligent, and way-to-young-to-have-adult-children, mother): With t-shirt pulled over her nose “I think it’s the sewer truck.”
DD: “Dad HAD to pull up next to the smelly sewer truck to pump gas, didn’t he???!!!???”
HH: “What smell?”
Energetic Golden Retriever: Woof (translation: wouldn’t someone really like to walk me over to McDonald’s to get a burger?)

None-the-less, we made it. We arrived at Ft. Robinson State Park, near Crawford Nebraska while still speaking to each other. Another 100 miles and I think one of us may have joined the dog kennel strapped under the bungee cords on the roof of the mini van. That would be the lucky family member – free of the ever present scent of eau d’la dog. But I digress.

Oddly enough, nearly all of the Prusa siblings with spouses, children, and essential supplies and equipment in tow arrived at Ft. Bob at close to the same time. That arrival marked the last time for the week that we all were in sync and headed the same direction at the same time. I think it may have had something to do with the promise of Dad’s BBQ feather bones and Mom’s baked beans. Oh yeahhhhh…you KNOW it’s going to be a good get together when 28 people and a dog start the week out with ample servings of baked beans and shared housing. And no air conditioning.

We always have the traditional Prusa fun of “Butt Darts”, the “Cereal Box Game”, “Fly, Fly, Who Ate the Fly” (ok…we only played that one time in 1999), and “Who Can Remember the Most-Embarrassing-and-Possibly-False-Thing From Childhood?”. This reunion, a new activity was added - a family version of a Corporate Annual Report. Cue the laptop and projector. Each family had the opportunity to give a presentation to the group as to what had transpired over the 2-years since the last reunion. Given that we, for the most part, either talk TO or ABOUT one another on a regular basis, this was a challenge. Creativity was essential. Visual aids were a good thing. Oh, and candy bribes to encourage attendance and participation in the post-presentation Q&A’s were vital. Sleeping during presentations was not allowed, and a physician’s statement was required to actually miss a session. Luckily, most of the adults have #1 attended college, #2 regularly attend Mass, and #3 have to participate in meetings at work. So, we all have ample experience in sleeping while appearing awake and interested. Just kidding Mom, Dad, and God!

My top ten favorite questions asked after presentations:
10. Can we have more “Cornhusker Crumble”?
9. Are we done yet?
8. What’s it like being married to Maggie? (my poor picked-upon baby sister)
7. How and where did you propose to Grandma? (never did get a straight answer on that one…)
6. Did you ask Grandma’s Dad for her hand in marriage?
5. Are we done yet?
4. What is the biggest change you’ve seen in the world?
3. Can I have some more candy?
2. Did you ever leave a polar bear in charge of your house?
And….drum roll…
1. Are we done yet?

Another new activity: Prusa Iron Chef. Need I say that competition was fierce? The family was paired into 6 teams, with three preparing a dish featuring the secret ingredient of buffalo; and three preparing a dish featuring corn. With a plentiful contingent of really, really, excellent cooks, odds were mighty good for a tough job of judging. Thus we called upon the wisest family members present: Dad (aka “Give-Me-Meat-and-Sweets”), Mom (aka “Don’t-Make-Me-Pick”) and Maggie’s mother-in-law Gail (aka “I-Like-It-All, What-Did-My-Baby-Boy-Make?”). Scoring was tight on such memorable selections as “Buff-a-Rogi”, “Jamaican Jerk Buffalo”, and “Cornhusker Crumble” (the previously mentioned sweet entry). We almost had to contact the American Olympic Committee after a couple protests were lodged – one alleging that the Jamaican Jerk actually seasoned (are you ready for this shocker?) BEEF (gasp!). As to the other completely unfounded protest, I want to go on record stating that it was a complete coincidence that my entry, Buffalo Chili, won by a landslide, (a very small landslide – actually a mere dustball). And how the ballots got thrown away so quick had to be a completely inadvertent mistake.

Breakfast at the lodge was a delightful routine. In fact, the lodge staff enjoyed it so much that I overheard them insuring that everyone had a chance to spend time with us: “NO. I took care of THEM yesterday. It’s YOUR turn.”

We had unusually moderate weather, making it easy to take part in all the outdoor activities Ft. Bob and surrounding area had to offer. The trail horses are most likely still looking longingly down Highway 20, searching for the daily family riders. The tennis court was well used, the pool - well splashed, and the sunset hike to the top of the bluff was so good that it had to be done two nights in a row. Prusa family members’ spelunked Wind Cave, summitted Harney Peak, and checked to see what’s on the backside of those presidential images on Mt. Rushmore (Nope, not a presidential full moon. The answer: yet MORE motorcyclists!). A sizeable number “rode the hide” at the Ft. Bob Rodeo (don’t even ask!) We walked and bicycled miles-and-miles, ate Buffalo Stew and sang along to “The Chicken Song”, and some took a culture break to see “Guys and Dolls” at the Post Playhouse. Rumor has it that beautiful Bridget is now engaged to the Buffalo Stew singer.

In between organized (and disorganized) activities, we caught up on life and laughter. And we watched as the cousins played and seemed to grow up before our very eyes. For myself, I had the supreme pleasure of watching my brothers and sisters do their job as outstanding parents – and outstanding people. Where else do you see 3 beautiful women, and a couple cute girls, voluntarily gather for the Sun Salutation and other yoga poses – as the Nebraska sun rose? The brothers-in-law “let” the oldest nephew beat them at golf – twice (that’s their story anyway). And…the energetic dog eventually won over the time and attention of the tenderhearts.

What a lucky, lucky bunch we are. To be able to gather with both parents and nearly all of the siblings and spouses. To truly enjoy each other. And to have family that practices unconditional love. It really did all start with a Thanksgiving Meatloaf. And we still have lots of thanksgiving to do.

In a final wrap-up, I want to let the sibs know that I did wear down Mom and Dad as we drove home across the state. I am inheriting the National Geographic collection, and many other treasures yet to be discovered at the Thrift Store. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah-nah – I always have been the favorite.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Meandering

meander: to proceed by or take a winding or indirect course (dictionary.com)

Yes, sometimes my daily bike ride takes a meandering route. But, more frequently, it is my brain that is meandering, while the bicycle traces a well-known and orderly path. Without fail, the start of my ride is full of frenetic brain activity:

“Ok..helmet? check...
“Gloves? check…
"Do I need new gloves? ...
“Water bottle? Check…
“Brrr….it’s chilly out here…
“No one else is out, great…
“Boy, I wish I had coffee already…
“What is that in the middle of the road ahead? …
“What IS that? …
“Good grief, dog poop. Who lets their dog poop in the road? …
“Must’ve been a BIG dog…
“Oh no! (spotting neighborhood odd ball) Great...don’t look this way, pleeeease don’t look this way….
Big smile, (greeting odd ball) “Good morning” Then silently, “creep”
“Alrighty then, that’s done…
“How far have I gone? Four-tenths of a mile. Grrrrreat…
“Is there a car coming? Do I need to stop here? …
“What shall I make for dinner? …
“C’mon buddy, just go around me! …
“I wonder if Steve would help me paint the front hallway this weekend? …
“What color? …
“Boy, I bet my butt looks big from behind…
“How do I feel? Why do I hunch my shoulders when I ride? …
“Yup, buttimus maximus….
“What’s in the freezer? ...
"What day is it? ...
"Can I just go ho-
"Look at THAT. That house is for sale! Wonder what happened? ...
"Wonder what our house is worth? ...
"Move squirrel...move squirrel...MOVE! ...
"Is that a new pool? ...

And so it goes, cerebral bouncing from topic to topic. About mile 4, I seem to settle into both the ride and to my meandering brain. Without effort, my mind winds into problem solving or creative thought. I find the humor in previously annoying experiences, find a new way to teach an old topic, dream up new quilts, make lists, and reminisce about life with young kids. What would I do without this time for mental exercise?

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Road Hazards

Guys. In trucks. Pulling trailers. Arrrggggghhhhh!

Today, as I road through bucolic Bowling Green in the early morning sunshine, I encountered numerous cars, motorcycles, and non-towing pick-up trucks of a variety of sizes. There was no problem. In fact, many of the drivers went out of the way to insure that our paths crossed safely – waiting patiently as I crossed the driveway they intended to enter, waving me through as they paused at a stop sign. BUT, then there were the GITPT (see above).

I’m not sure if they believe that they have the right of way regardless of the situation, or if the law of physics impedes their ability to stop at signs, lights, and cross streets. The most ironic encounter was the driver of a white pick-up, pulling a trailer loaded with a mower, who looked me directly in the eye and then proceeded to pull out OF THE CEMETERY directly into my path. Maybe he thought that my proximity to a cemetery would make the accident less traumatic, save tax dollars by not calling an ambulance, and instead send me and my beloved lil’ red directly into an open grave. After having a few close encounters today, I think that I have to send GITPT a message. I recognize that I must speak slowly and use small words.

BIKES AND THE RIDER HAVE A RIGHT TO BE ON THE ROAD. We have to follow the rules, just like you. That means that when you have a red light or stop sign you should not ignore it. Also, please consider the width of your truck, including projecting side mirrors, when passing a rider – leaving ample room between the rider and your truck is good both both of us. Please remember the trailer behind you before you swing directly in the bicycle’s path. I love my family and I want to spend many more years with them. I bet you do too, and bogging down your life with the results of an accident in which someone is seriously injured or killed, might mean that you might not get to spend all the time with them that you might wish. Thank you.

Oops – words too big? I’ll try again: BAD BOY. BE CAREFUL. DON’T HURT BICYCLE. DON’T HURT RIDER. BIG MESS. DON’T GO TO JAIL. DON’T LOSE TRUCK. BYE-BYE.

There, I think I feel somewhat better, despite the fact that I know this is a meaningless gesture.

What really irritates me, is not just my experiences, but the knowledge that I am seeing many more bicycles on the road since gas prices have sky rocketed. Lots of those riders don’t wear helmets, and may not have a lot of experience. They are even more vulnerable to unsafe driving practices. (Sidebar: I’m NOT saying that it’s OK for them not to wear helmets, but only one tirade per posting.)

On a more positive note, here are my top 5 things about riding in the early morning:

  1. Morning sunshine.
  2. Fresh air.
  3. Fresh legs.
  4. Relatively cool temps.
  5. Coffee when I get home.

Here are the top 5 minor annoyances (aside from GITPT):

  1. Fresh mulch.
  2. Well rested dogs (not fenced).
  3. Helmet hair.
  4. Conundrums: sunglasses vs. no sunglasses? Need for sun block or not?
  5. Waiting for coffee until I get home.

Get out and ride! Happy trails!

Monday, May 5, 2008

Low Expectations

I was listening, half-heartedly, to one of those makeover-type shows. I heard the tearful exclamation by the woman being made over as she lamented (be sure to inject a significant amount of barely contained tears as you read…) “I just don’t know what happened to me. I don’t know when I just let myself go. Now, I go out of the house without make-up, which just shouldn’t be.” Sniff, sniff.

Uh huh. In my humble opinion, the most important lesson in her makeover would have been to teach her the law of low expectations. Of course, that’s never going to happen, as the show is paid for by the advertisers of beauty products. None-the-less, low expectations are the key to a long, and compliment filled life.

The basic principle is that whenever you move into a new neighborhood, you must quickly and consistently demonstrate that you are a slacker. Never wear make-up for the first week or so. Be sure to dig those worn out sweats out of the Goodwill bag and use ‘em as standard wardrobe – paint stains contributes an extra layer of panache. If your budget can afford it, be sure to order a variety of pizza delivery for the first week in residence. For those with long hair, an ever present ponytail and ball cap look good, for those of us with a shorter do….just roll out of bed, run your fingers through your hair and call it a day. The scene has been set. Each time a neighbor comes by with brownies or cookies they will find you a mess. You have now established low expectations. You have NOTHING to live up to. Nirvana.

The first time a neighbor sees you in make-up they will gush with how lovely you look. Simply blow dry your hair and apply lipstick before a trip to the grocery, and everyone you run into will say “I can’t put my finger on what’s different, but you look really nice today.”

Setting low expectations is not letting yourself go. I repeat, it is NOT letting yourself go. No…this is strategic planning, no less important than the Yankees’ play book. By setting low expectations, there is no where to go but up. What a lovely place to be. Once a neighbor has come into the family room to find you sorting underwear for laundry, it can’t get much worse.

Actually, my finest moment of low expectations occurred many years ago when my oldest son, Nick, was in kindergarten. To set the scene, it was a nice spring day, and I was standing at the fence chatting with my neighbor, Stephanie. Stephanie the wonder-woman: beautiful, sexy, great cook, runner, and tidy-house award winner for at least 5 consecutive years.
Nick stepped out onto the back porch, wearing his slightly baggy “He-Man” underwear and shouted, “Hey Mom, I don’t have any clean pants!”
I answered, “Yes, you do. Your brown cords and blue jeans are both hanging in your closet.”
“They can't be clean! They're not hot,” he said as he went back into the house.
Ah yes, the pinnacle of slackerdom, a child who has become totally accustomed to a wardrobe that is only ready-to-wear fresh out of the dryer. No pressure on me to be mother-of-the-year. If I could only depend on Stephanie to pass the story along, I was likely to get out of multiple PTA committee assignments, as no one would suspect that I had any organizational skills.

Women! Stop fighting to fit time in to do everything! Enjoy life, with a clean face, and a full laundry room. Trust me, it works. You’ll like yourself better as you can always acheive the goals that you set for yourself (#1 Breathe, #2 Eat, #3 Play with the kids or walk the dog, #4 start at the beginning and repeat). Anything over and above that is clearly overachieving.

Consider it a random act of kindness when you run into a co-worker at the store and she is pulled together and you are…well…not so much. You have just boosted her self esteem. Consider it a random act of kindness. So, I’ll close with some words adapted from a man who does know how to set low expectations (think baseball career) ~ Garth Brooks

'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the expectation is that I’ll be
Make-up free, and honestly
I know I’m okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to my own oasis
Oh, I’m my own friend in low places

Friday, April 25, 2008

Liver + Europe = Bad Combination

Liver. Yes, that nasty meat-like substance that every mother of the 1960’s fed to her young because “it was good for them.” To build iron, or some such malarkey. Actually I think that youth-fed liver is the primary reason for sky-high baby-boomer cholesterol levels. Do you know how much cholesterol there is in liver??? Not to mention that the bribe for eating liver was the accompanying bacon and fried onions. We needed a side order of lipitor to make the meal complete. Actually, my brother Joe didn’t need the cholesterol meds, as he devised a clever hiding place for his liver. We discovered it mummified years later when the family dining table was disassembled to be refinished. He should have been called home and forced to sit at the dining room table until he ate his liver…never mind that he was pushing 40.

Handsome husband swears that liver was the first meal served to him by my Mother while we were dating. He despises liver, but he put on a cheerful face and ate not one helping, but two. And he STILL married me! Now, that's love.

At my house, we’ve been thinking of liver a lot lately. Unfortunately, it’s not the kind wrapped in plastic in the meat section at Kroger. No, this is the kind embedded in the abdomen of my daughter, Emily. Perhaps, hereafter referred to as “Liverella”. Some sort of viral gastroenteritis (for the non-medical, a bad case of the ‘rrhea and “vomicking”) seems to have affected her liver – causing it to grow to ginormous size. I mean GI-normous. You can feel it, without any trouble at all. Just hanging out, below her right rib cage. I may have to invest in a truss of some sort.

We missed the entire jaundice phase of her illness, as Liverella was in Austria, in the midst of a semester of study-abroad. Supposed to be having the time of her life. Riding the Eurorail, bopping in and out of European countries, collecting photographs, and a large assortment of luscious European chocolate to bring home to Mom. Instead she ended up bopping in and out of the Austrian healthcare system and collecting lab reports.

Imagine the experience. Hospitalization with most of the staff speaking English-lite, at best. On the night of her admission it seemed that the only English phrase the physician knew was “Have you always had trouble with your liver?” as he asked it repeatedly, despite her assurances that up to that time she and her liver had been on the best of terms. Intimate friends as it were.

Her tales of ultrasounds, x-rays, and lab work being accomplished via a medical version of pantomime would be funny, if she wasn’t family. OK, they are funny anyway, but don’t tell her I said so.

After a 3-week subsistence diet of crackers and a variety of Austrian juices, we determined that coming home might be for the best. Austrian juice sounds most interesting. Liverella reports that nearly all juices contained carrot juice, and many contain sauerkraut juice. Please tell me that sauerkraut is a generic word for cabbage. She said that the absolute worst was the beet-carrot-sauerkraut-and onion juice. She heated it up and pretended it was soup. She is now my hero for even trying to consume it. I am now her hero for buying good ol’ American apple, cranberry, and pomegranate juices. If only motherhood were always so easy.

It’s like we have another child now. We talk about her liver as though it was its own entity, with a room of its own. “How does it feel today?” “It is angry?” “Does that food make it happy?” From my perspective this is more work than a colicky baby. Luckily, (or not), it is Liverella who has to do most of the work, toting the colicky baby 24-7.

Like infant colic, we’ve been told that with time, rest, and fluids Liverella will once again return to her sweet alter-ego, Emily. In the meantime, wish her well – and please, no bacon and fried onion jokes.

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Waiting for the Pope


Me and one of the three men in Rome worth standing in line for.

Italian Men - PC?!

When and how did Italian men fall prey to the wave of political correctness? Why am I always “a day late”? Or decade….? To quote a 1997 piece from The Tattoo: “Too many Italian men have no pride, shame or tact. They do not just flirt, they follow, grab, pinch…” Sounds to me like the last site on planet earth where a chubby, middle-aged, long-married woman might experience a bit of flirtation.

Okay, okay, I really didn’t want to be pinched. I would have settled for a wink. A kiss blown across a crowded metro. An unexpected “Ciao bella…” Sigh.

I believe that I am as much of a feminist as the average woman. But one simply cannot be a fan of movies of the 1950’s and 1960’s without developing a fine fantasy of Italy, and therefore, Italian men as sexy. Consider: Roman Holiday, Rome Adventure (a bit silly), Summer Time, Seven Hills of Rome (musical), and Three Coins in the Fountain. Even more recently: La Vita e Bella (Life is Beautiful), Only You, A Room With a View, Bread and Tulips, and Merchant of Venice.

Need I say more? I’ll wait while you fan yourself and recover from the mere mention of those fantastic (and sexy) films.

Well, I’m back from a week in Rome with an accurate report. Pinches = 0, Winks = 0, Blown Kisses = 0, Ciao Bella = 1, then I realized he was speaking to the woman next to me on the metro. Since they boarded together, and were both wearing wedding bands … well, you figure it out.

During my stay in Rome there were only three men worth standing in line to see: Michelangelo's Zeus, the Pope, and Steve. Since Steve came home with me, the count is now 2. None of them pinched me. Steve does wink and blow kisses, but never could master “Ciao Bella” – his version sounded a bit like “Cowbella”. Also, I do believe that Steve is much more fun to stand in line with than either Michelangelo or the Pope would be.

Rome is a city of opposites,

  • The most beautiful artwork countered by more graffiti than New York City. The wall surrounding Vatican City had been “tagged”.
  • Spotless table linens in restaurants, from the finest dining to the casual trattoria, countered by litter. Litter everywhere – even in St. Peter’s Square.
  • “La Dolce Vita” – the sweet life – where all are encouraged to linger at dining tables, to talk, laugh, and argue over a lengthy meal, no hurry to turn the table quickly, countered by Italian traffic. Frenetic, buzzing, urgent. Pedestrians scurry as crossing signs have little meaning to drivers, especially Vespa drivers. The key to crossing the street – “never look ‘em in the eye, never let ‘em see your fear” (from my study-abroad daughter, Emily).
  • The approach of waiters in “keeping your tab” as you dine. It goes like this: you mime that you want your tab and then wait another 30 minutes, or so (see bullet #2 above). The waiter appears at your table with a blank sheet of paper and asks what you have had. You tell them, they write a number on the page, you pay, rounding up to the next even Euro, and everyone is happy. To counter this mealtime honor system are the ever present pickpockets, fearless and bold, on the streets, the metro, the busses, and in lines. I was told that the average Roman resident has their pocket picked eight times per year.

So, given this tendency toward opposites, I am writing this to all handsome Italian men (especially Romans). It’s not too late! Political correctness is well…correct, and no, women do NOT want to be pinched, groped or otherwise manhandled. But, would a little wink to a middle-aged tourist hurt? Go ahead, make my day.

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Silence is golden

Koinonia. The Greek word for community. Also, the name for a world-wide weekend retreat for adults. An annual event at my church, Holy Spirit Catholic Church in Bowling Green, KY.

This weekend was the 7th Koinonia retreat I’ve participated in since the first was held in 1998 (or was it ’99?). The first time as a participant, and the six times since then in some role of service. But, this time was different….

Yes, at each Koinonia retreat there are those who serve in the retreat room itself – the musicians, the table leaders, spiritual leaders, directors, sacristans, and more. And each weekend there are those who serve in the kitchen – tirelessly cooking and feeding the crowd. Spiritual growth is hungry work, after all.

And then…there are the...well, to protect the innocent, we'll just call them the "Flakes". Those who serve “behind the scenes”. In the world of entomology, the “Flakes” would be the worker ants. Hustling, toiling, setting up, taking down, clearing out, cleaning up, licking envelopes, lighting candles, setting up chairs, taking down chairs, waitressing/waitering (is that a word?) and generally being useful doing all the sideline action that makes a weekend go. Out of the limelight… In silence.

Yes, you heard me right. In silence.

I took a 24-hour vow of silence from Friday afternoon until Saturday afternoon. Now, those who know me well know that I can readily spend an entire afternoon without saying a word. This usually involves a good book, a comfy chair, and a cup of hot tea. “So,” I thought to myself, “what can be so hard about silence for 24 hours? It will be easy – and I’ll have an excuse NOT to talk. Oh happy day!”

Yeah right.

First there was the lovely woman who showed up at the church hall (I think to attend an AA meeting). She wandered into the room where I was working, looking for the restroom. I gestured, nodded, hopped up from my seat, and led her to the ladies room – without saying a word. She must have felt as though she had a close encounter with Harpo Marx. After that performance, if she stayed for the AA meeting rather than “peeling rubber” out of the parking lot, I admire her tenacity at recovery.

Then there was my handsome husband, who wondered why I didn’t go through the drive-thru and bring a snack home that night. How, specifically, does a mute woman order at the drive-thru I ask you?

I’ve learned that I stink at charades…I was trying to illustrate the word “fire” (as in “do we need to put out the fire?”) and the person attempting to interpret my message guessed that the word was “Viagra” – HUH?

That being said, the view from my seat as “Flake” was very good. Do you know that if you are quiet you can listen? Sad, but true, it was news to me…

I think I listen well. In fact, I usually think that is one of my good qualities: that I am a “good” listener. I pay attention, I remember details.

But, this weekend, I learned that when one gives up the power of speech, one also silences the internal noise. The chatter of “what do I need to do next”, “what was that?”, “what am I forgetting?”, “what is the next deadline?” and the train of other endless thoughts that pass through our minds. When the voice is silent, the mind calms. Over my 24-hours of silence, I found that there are still clocks that tick and that the soft breathing of the person working next to you is a beautiful sound. I learned that the eyes really are the window to the soul, as I looked into humble eyes, nervous eyes, loving eyes, dancing eyes, and eyes full of pain.

I learned that God really does talk in the silence. And that it takes more than the 30-second breath between sentences to count as listening for the voice of God. The view from my seat of self-inflicted silence was the best seat in the house. I saw, and heard, miracles.

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.” – Mother Teresa

Amen.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Time DOES fly!

It's hard for me to believe that it has been more than 2 months since I've shared the view from my seat. Where does the time go? (boringly rhetorical question...)

In my case, it has literally flown. You see, my seat has been an airplane seat. I've been twice to the beautiful and addictive country of Belize since Jan 1, 2008. My seat has been on the kind of little airplanes where the staff doesn't say "Welcome Aboard" instead they say "Good Luck!". And my seat has been on a lovely jet playing a movie (sadly, without popcorn). My seat has been kicked non-stop from Houston to Nashville by a restless 3 year-old. I've also had a seat on a Belizean taxi whose passenger door opened via the grip of a Craftsman tool, a bumper-less seven-passenger van, a school bus, and a variety of tour busses, large and small.

Along the way I have met the most fascinating group of people imagineable...Christina, who serves the MOST delicious rice and beans with stewed chicken that have ever graced a table. The fact that the table sits in a cozy thatched home in a remote Mayan village, with a random chicken or puppy wandering through the house only adds to the ambience. My mouth is watering thinking of those meals - complete with hot off the griddle fresh tortillas.

Phil, our genial driver. With his sweet jokes and funny sayings. I learned about "sleeping policemen" (aka speed bumps) and Belize in his monologue. I will never hear (or see) the phrase "You gotta Belieze-it" without thinking of Phil - driver and guide. He worked very hard to get 13 talkative medical and dental personnel from place to place on time. He must of felt, at times, as though he was herding cats. Patience, thy name is Phil.

Jill and Emmeth....oh my! Drummer extraordinaire, oral historian, and showman. Artist, humorist, and kind-hearted woman. Life is richer if you ever meet Jill and Emmeth. Somewhere there is photographic evidence as I left my fireside seat and "jumped" the Sambai (danced). I am praying that it only is available for viewing at my funeral (at some distant date). After all laughter at my funeral is one of my deepest wishes.

Sweet Nurse Johnson. Whatever the tropical equivalent is of a Steel Magnolia, that is Nurse Johnson. Beautiful foliage concealing a strong core. Wise and caring - oh, the perfect combination for a nurse. Can it be bottled?

The list is so long...Nancy of Manatee Lodge, Mr. August - polished transportation coordiantor, Dana - politician and cave guide, Mrs. Samuels, Bro. Sho and Bro. Tush - men of strength and talent, Candy who runs the Cardies Hotel and makes it look easy. The children - oh! the children. Gap toothed, curious, playful, bright, generous, and welcoming. Innocent (insert a quick prayer here for their protection). Babies carried from their mothers head in hammock totes.

The view from my seat is one of gratitude. For:
- my health and opportunity to serve.
- students who came, saw, embraced, and worked like professionals.
- Sharkey Farmer, the best dentist in the whole wide world. Lard conisseur and master of the infamous Sharkey-Jack.
- "Nancy" our water-toting environmentalist and all around air-traffic controller
- "Citronella" my roommate who graciously absorbed all the bug bites that we were both entitled to.
- Dr. Sherry who demonstrates what medicine is at its best. A healing art of person-to-person caring.
- Dr. Sherry who proves that it is entirely possible to be a genius and still lose anything not tethered to an actual part of one's anatomy.
- Dr. Ryan, fourth cousin to himself, who worked double duty, even with "Belize Belly" Player of a mean "Amazing Grace" on a Recorder.
- Edna, the reincarnation of Florence Nightengale and Clara Barton all wrapped up in one fun package. I pray she never learns the words "Not my job."
- laughter, everyday.
- sweat. Honest sweat of hard work.
- Pepto-Bismol, a traveller's best friend.
- Hammocks and cool evening breezes.
- Mayan ruins - to remind me that the present is fleeting. AND that there have been folks in the past that thought they were "all it" and look where they are now.
- Time to reflect, enjoy, and commit to incorporating at least one best practice of these beautiful Belizeans into my life.
- Mimi who reminded me of the value of pure, unadulterated mother-love.
- Jane Fonda look-alike, (you-know-who-you-are), bright, funny and inspiring. Like a duck - paddling furiously under the surface, calm and serene to all appearances (I think!)

And so, I close, while waiting for a brief bit of warm weather so that I can again view the world from the peculiar perspective of my bicycle, with this thought to my winter time friends - new and old:

No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth. ~Robert Southey

And from my favorite philosopher...
Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. ~Charles M. Schulz