Category: Lifestyle

When I was in school I was a straight-A student, however, I didn’t share that information freely.  If you were a close friend of mine you probably already knew this about me. But if I told anyone who didn’t know it would typically elicit an exaggerated eye roll from them.

But that wasn’t the reason I didn’t tell anyone. I can handle some exaggerated facial expressions.  The real reason I never wanted to fess up to being an A student was that I never felt like I deserved to be an A student.  School came very easily to me.  I never had to work hard for those grades.  Okay, I can tell you are rolling your eyes now.

All kidding aside, I liked school.  I enjoyed learning and I never really needed to study that much to retain the information that was presented.  I suppose it was really a gift.   But the message I got from other people was that if you didn’t work hard for something you probably didn’t deserve it.  If it came that easily there must be something wrong with it.

I began to feel guilty for not working harder for my achievements.  I started to feel like an imposter and I placed little value on my status as an A student.  I felt that probably anyone could do exactly as I had done if they wanted to.  I assumed that I was just lucky.   Why else would it all come so easily?

But what if everyone has an “easy streak” in them?  Something that comes to them naturally.  Easily.  Should it be discounted because they didn’t work hard for it?  Some people have the ability to draw or write or sing or play a sport without any formal training whatsoever.  When something comes to us naturally it’s easy to convince ourselves that it isn’t special, that anyone can do it.  We overlook our own talents, perhaps abandon them altogether, in pursuit of something that takes “real work” to achieve.

But why can’t easy just be easy?  Why can’t we allow what comes naturally to be natural? What if we took that one thing, that incredible gift that we were given and enjoy the ease of it?  Lean into the ease of it and form it into something that we can appreciate and value about ourselves.

I say find your easy.  Find the thing that you love that comes to you with ease.  You may not know exactly what it is but if you spend a little time looking for it you will find it.  You will recognize it by the way it makes you feel.  By the way you lose track of time when you are immersed in it.  And maybe by the way you discount it and pass it off as nothing.  As something that “anyone” can do.  It may be hiding as something that seems frivolous.  As something you keep telling yourself that you will do “when you get the time”.

Once you find it, claim it.  And know that it was given to you for a reason.  Believe in yourself and lean in.  And if people want to roll their eyes, then let them.  

I love Thanksgiving.  It’s the official kick-off of the holiday season.  As I sit this morning and reflect on Thanksgivings gone by I am reminded of one particular year that my sister came to visit and the disaster that ensued that day.  Normally, I would be up bright and early to start preparations for the big day.  On this specific day, however, my husband offered to let me sleep in a little longer.  He said he would get up and start preparing the turkey and would let me know if he needed any help.  What could possibly go wrong?

A short time later I was shaken from my slumber by the sound of my husband bellowing at the top of his lungs.  Bleary-eyed, I jumped out of bed and jammed on my slippers.  I ran as quickly as I could down the stairs.  I envisioned the dogs stealing the raw turkey and running wild through the house with it.  That was the only logical explanation I could think of as my husband shouted my name in an utter panic!  Surely the dogs had stolen the bird and were now playing tug of war with it!

I made it to the bottom of the stairs and ran into the kitchen fully expecting to see my husband in an all-out battle for the bird.  That was not the case, however, as the turkey was sitting on the kitchen counter just as pretty as you please.  I was confused now and not sure why I had been summoned in such a state of panic.

As I stepped into the kitchen, however, my slippers were instantly soaked with water.  I froze and looked down.  What I saw was incomprehensible.  The entire kitchen floor appeared to be several inches deep in moving water.  I couldn’t make sense of the situation.  First, how had my kitchen been turned into a river and second how could such a flat surface hold so much water?

I know that I probably screamed something at this point which promptly brought my sister downstairs. Perhaps she joined in the screaming as well, I don’t quite recall.  I do remember that it was all hands on deck at that point as we tried to manage the catastrophe that was quickly unfolding before our eyes.

My husband ran over and turned off the overflowing sink that was causing the flood.  He then began chasing our large, water-loving Labrador retrievers who were having a fine time jumping up and down in the water.   Meanwhile, I grabbed a dustpan and tossed my sister a big plastic bowl.  My idea was to scoop the water out through glass sliding door in the kitchen onto the back deck.

I thought this was a great idea until I rolled open the door and realized that it was pouring down rain outside!  Immediately, gale-force winds whipped the curtains back and drove rain into our faces as my sister and I knelt on the floor in our pajamas trying desperately to scoop up water and toss it out the back door.  I felt like the Gorton’s fisherman besting a storm on a ship as it tossed on the waves.  If only I had a large yellow slicker instead of the soggy pajamas that were now plastered to my body.

My husband began gathering towels and anything else that would absorb liquid from every corner of the house and eventually we managed to mop up the remainder of the Chattahoochee River that had crested in my kitchen.   We managed to dry everything out, including ourselves, and were even able to cook a fine Thanksgiving meal. 

The insurance adjuster arrived a few days later.  As it turned out, I got a brand new kitchen out of the uproar!  New countertops, new backsplash, new sink and even new flooring!   What some may have called a disaster I simply called a remodel.  So remember, whatever happens, even if you run across a “disaster” today, just chalk it up as an excellent story for the future. 

I hope you all have a wonderfully-thankful-and-disaster-free Thanksgiving!

I have an old picture of myself from grade school that I have kept all of these years.  It’s a little blurry but in it, you can see that I am wearing an Indian costume.   My arms are crossed defiantly over my chest and my bangs are crooked but it is one of my all-time favorite photos.  It makes me smile every time I see it. 

It was taken several weeks before Thanksgiving in my third-grade classroom when we made costumes for the holiday.  Pilgrim costumes for the girls and Indian costumes for the boys.  It was a fun and creative idea for a group of kids unless you just happened to be the girl that wanted to be an Indian instead of a Pilgrim.

You see, the Indian costumes were cut out of a large roll of brown paper and could be decorated with all sorts of colored markers, Indian symbols and fringe cut along the bottom.  The pilgrim costumes were black and white and consisted of aprons and hats.  Obviously the Indian costumes were much more creative than the Pilgrim costumes and I couldn’t understand why each person wasn’t allowed to choose what they wanted to be.   I remember that it took a fair amount of coaxing to get my teacher to allow me to be an Indian but after some persistence, I finally got my way.

I have been telling that story ever since.  Not because it is a riveting story.  Not because it is even all that interesting either.  I tell it for one simple reason.  It reminds me that I don’t always have to go with the flow.  That sometimes it’s good to cause a disruption.

Sometimes we need to disrupt our standard way of thinking.  We need to be willing to do something we have never done before.  Say something we have never said before.   So that we can be the people we have always wanted to be.

We have to be willing to run, leap and soar even knowing there is the possibility that we might fall.

Sometimes we need to ask ourselves the questions that make us take a look at our life and then disrupt it if necessary.  That disruption might just cause you to become bold and audacious.   It might cause you to affect other people.  And if that happens, people will take notice of you and they will be inspired by you. 

Often times we look for others to inspire us but maybe we are here to be the inspiration.  Maybe the world is waiting on us to inspire them by the way we rise above our own circumstances and the way we show up every day.

Maybe you are the change that the world is waiting for.

I started this thing called NaNoWriMo at the first of this month.  If you are not familiar with it, don’t worry, you are not alone.  I just heard about it earlier this year.  The acronym stands for National Novel Writing Month.  It’s an annual writing event where you must write a 50,000 word novel—from scratch—in one month. To break it up, you have to write 1,667 words a day, every day, for thirty days straight. 

That’s a whole lot of words.

Now, you certainly don’t have to sit around and wait for November to arrive each year to start writing a novel.  You could sit down and write one anytime you wanted to.  But would you?   This platform is a way to commit yourself to the task of writing and receive encouragement from others doing the same thing.

I have been writing for eight days straight.  Fortunately, I have about two hours a day on the bus to complete this task so time is not an issue for me. So, what’s the problem you ask? 

The problem is, I don’t always “feel like” writing.  Especially 1,667 words a day.  Even if I have the time to do it.  And, by the way, I still have to write a post for this blog.

That’s even more words.

My point is this.  Many times, perhaps most times, we are not going to “feel like” doing the things that challenge us.  If we wait to “feel like it” it will probably never get done. 

Here’s the thing –  Actions don’t follow feelings.  Feelings follow actions. 

Have you ever gone to the gym when you didn’t feel like it? You just forced yourself to go anyway?  I bet you felt better after you went . I always do.

So, even though I don’t feel like writing, I write anyway.  And I feel better when I am done because I did what I set out to do. 

Now, if I could just figure out how to credit these 300 or so words to today’s NaNoWriMo word count that would really make me feel great!

I ran into someone the other day who asked me about the city that I live in.  They wanted to know what the people were like as they were considering moving there.  I asked them what the people were like in the town that they were currently living in.  They quickly answered that the people were rude and inconsiderate and not at all friendly.  I told them that they would likely find the same kind of unfriendly people living in my town as well.

Later, I ran into another person who asked me the same question about the people where I live.  They were also considering moving to my town.  I asked them what the people were like in the town they were moving from.  They said that they were wonderful, caring people and that they would miss them very much.  I told them that they would likely find the same kind of caring people living in my town as well.

So what happened?  Did the people in the town change?  Did they somehow go from being bad to being good?  No, the people themselves did not change, but the perception of the people did.

This was actually a story I heard on a podcast by Wayne Dyer but I thought it was worth repeating.  This story has stuck with me for quite some time because it was so surprising to me.   It is a story about how we choose to see things.  And, I think it’s true.  

Basically, I believe that we get what we look for in life.  If we are seeking the worst in people we will find it every time.  If we are looking for the good in people we will find that as well. If we are certain that a situation will turn out poorly, then it most certainly will.  

Everything is neutral until we place our attachment on it.

I work in downtown Atlanta.  As you might expect, I have seen and heard some fairly disturbing things there.  I could easily view the entire city negatively if I chose to.  The simple fact is, however, that would be incredibly depressing and I probably wouldn’t be able to continue working there for long if I did so.  Instead, I choose to place my focus on what is positive.  On the lady in our building who greets me with a smile every single day.  On the man who plays music on the corner with the biggest smile you have ever seen.

Henry Ford said, “Whether you think you can or think you cannot – you’re right.”  I have changed his quote to say, “Whether you think it’s good or think it’s bad – you’re right.”  Your thoughts alone will determine how you view a situation.

Even Albert Einstein said that the most important decision we have to make in our lives is this:  Do I live in a friendly or hostile universe?  Based on your answer you will create the world that you see.    

We had music class once a week in middle school.  I dreaded music class for several reasons.  First, I almost always had the wrong answer to any question that was asked and second, we had to sing out loud.   This terrified me beyond measure.   Furthermore, it was the only class I had with Jill.  Jill was the girl who, when called upon, would always sing out at the top of her voice.   She would stand up and belt out any tune that was requested of her. 

I remember being embarrassed for her in class.  Most of us refrained from drawing attention to ourselves.  Not Jill.  Most of us held back to see how others would act before we acted.  Not Jill.  She appeared to be oblivious to everyone and everything around her.  

Didn’t she realize that she was singing way too loud?  Didn’t she realize that she was supposed to follow the crowd and be like everyone else?  Her defiant refusal to conform irritated me.  What is it about someone who stands out in a crowd that causes us discomfort?  Someone who goes out on a limb, risks it all, dares to be different?

It wasn’t until much later in life that I realized I was actually envious of Jill.  It was not for her singing, however.  It was for her ability to do what she wanted to do.  What she loved to do.   What her heart lead her to do regardless of what others might think about her. 

In my life, I have found that it is much easier for me to pretend that I don’t care if someone else is achieving their dreams while I do nothing to achieve mine.  It is easier for me to stand on the sidelines and judge someone else rather than jump in and do the hard work that I need to do. 

Seeing the success of others can be a painful reminder of our own shortcomings.  But it doesn’t have to be.  We need to trade comparison for celebration.  Trade envy for admiration.  Envy says to us, “I’m not worthy.  I’m not enough.”  Envy leads us down a dark path if we let it.  Envy is fear-based.

Admiration offers us a way to see the light in others.  It helps us emulate the traits we admire in others.  It also helps us to see our own light and act on it.   Admiration is loved-based. 

If you find yourself feeling envious the best way to defeat it is to admit it.  Then, flip it over.  I believe that you will find that admiration is on the other side.

I peered over the edge of the cliff and immediately felt a wave of nausea sweep over me.  I closed my eyes and swallowed hard.  The low fence that had been installed by the parks department for my safety did little to quell my fear.  The crowd of people surrounding me at the canyon’s edge seemed to be unaffected by the daunting views.  Many of them leaned against the treacherous looking fence or worse yet climbed up on nearby rocks to get the perfect selfie.  

The Grand Canyon has been on my list of things to see for as long as I can remember.  Now that I was finally here and looking across the dizzying landscape, I began to wonder why I hadn’t settled for the colorful postcard at the visitor’s center instead.  

We had come here to do some hiking despite my fear of heights and there would be no turning back now.  We stepped onto the dusty, rocky path that would lead us approximately 1200 feet down the Bright Angel Trail.  In my Columbia hiking pants and boots and a North Face backpack, I certainly looked the part of the confident hiker.  I started to feel a little better about the whole endeavor.  I was beginning to get a feel for the canyon and had even looked off into the distance while sipping water from my backpack. I was pretty certain that REI would be contacting me soon to model for their ads.

My husband nudged me out of my daydream to start the descent.  I quickly found myself weaving in and out of people coming up and down the trail.  I found out that the traffic on the trail is much like road traffic so at times you must walk on the right side or the outside of the trail.  This is the side closest to the edge. When this happened I kept my eyes glued to the ground and avoided looking into the canyon.  My husband looked at me nervously and asked if I was ok but I just waved my hand to assure him that I was fine and up to the challenge.

Then I found out there was mule traffic as well.  Yes, I said mule traffic.  And the mules have the right of way.   If you happen upon them you will see why.  These huge, powerful animals leave little room for anything but themselves on the trail.  At one point we pressed ourselves to the side of a cliff to allow these massive animals to pass.  A line of at least a dozen mules loaded with gear quickly plodded past.  I was transported back to the old west as the cowboy riding the lead mule offered us a friendly “howdy” as he lead his team on the narrow trail.

After hiking a little over an hour it was time to make the slow ascent back to the top of the canyon.   It wasn’t long before my carefully considered Columbia outfit was sweaty and covered in dust.  My backpack felt like it had been packed with rocks and my lungs felt like they would collapse in the thin air.   Each step toward the top was grueling.  My legs screamed for me to stop.  It would take twice as long to go up as it had to come down.  I began to realize why it was called the Bright Angel Trail.  I figured I was going to see angels right before I died in the canyon.

Eventually, exhausted and dust-covered, we reached the top.  I decided it was time to make good use of the buses that circled the park.  We hopped on the orange line and headed back to the visitor’s center where I bought a pack of postcards and called it a day.    

History was one of my favorite classes in high school.  Not because I loved history but because I loved to draw.  I would sit in history class and sketch out comic strips with characters I created based on the teacher and my classmates.  The class was easy and I found that I could listen and draw and never drop a grade point.  One day, however, the teacher caught me.  He walked by and snatched my comic strip right out of my hand.  “Hey,” I protested rather weakly.  He just stood there and read my paper as I sat and waited for my punishment to be pronounced. After what seemed to be an eternity he just laughed and tossed the paper onto my desk. All he said was, “Good work.”  This encouraged me. I continued creating comic strips that he would sometimes read out loud at the end of class.

I also started drawing comic strips in my computer lab class.  Another easy class where there always seemed to be something funny to write about.  I would leave the finished comic strips on my lab teacher’s desk at the end of class.  He enjoyed them and would ask when the next one was coming if I went more than a week without turning one in.

Later on, I worked for a doctor’s office and you guessed it, I started a comic strip for them as well.  I would draw them between making appointments and during my lunch break.  I would hurriedly finish them and pass them around the office.  The doctor’s office was always chock full of hilarious stories to write about.

I don’t draw comic strips anymore although I still enjoy drawing and doodling if I’m not writing something.  For me, I suppose it was always more about the creation of the story itself. 

Someone once said that we take care of what we love.  I think that is true. If we enjoy doing something, if it brings a smile to our face and it makes us truly happy, we should take care of it.  We should believe in it and pursue it.

It is essential to do the things in life that bring us joy.  Regardless of what others may think. Regardless of whether or not it will generate income.  Regardless of how much time we have or even how old we are.  We need to do the things that we love for the simple pleasure it brings us in doing them. When we take care of what we love we ultimately take care of ourselves.

Hershey’s sells more than $500 million worth of Reese’s peanut butter cups annually.  I like to think that I am at least partly responsible for helping to boost their sales and make them the chocolate giant that they are today.

You see, it all started in middle school with a fundraiser that involved selling Reese’s peanut butter cups.  I was not the least bit interested in selling them until I found out that the top prize was a Schwinn Varsity 10 speed road bike.  There were some other prizes as well but I didn’t care about those.  I was totally and completely fixated on the bicycle.

I remember racing home from school that first day with a case of Reese’s peanut butter cups and a flyer. The flyer had a picture of the bike at the top.  I ran to my room and taped the flyer to my wall so I could see it every day. Then I went out after dinner and sold every single peanut butter cup in the box that very night.

I told my parents that I intended to sell enough candy to win the bicycle.  They looked at me dubiously.  The next day, I came home with two cases of peanut butter cups and once again, after dinner, I started my candy campaign.  Slowly and methodically I walked up and down each street in our neighborhood.  I was careful to keep track of who was not home so I could go back later, not wanting to miss a single sale.

This process went on for a while until I had exhausted all the homes within walking distance.  This did not dissuade me, however, as I lugged home even more cases of peanut butter cups and begged my mother to drive me around so I could sell them.

Case after case of peanut butter cups entered our home.  My mother implored me to stop.  “Haven’t you sold enough?” she would grumble as we loaded the candy into the car.  How could I possibly know?   I needed to be sure that the bicycle would be mine.  I had to sell as many candy bars as I possibly could.

Each night, I coerced my mother into trekking me across town. I begged.  I pleaded.  I offered her free Reece’s cups.   We went to every neighborhood we could find.  We even stopped at a local retirement community.  I figured all the sweet grandparents would be happy to see me.  What I didn’t figure was that many of them were on strict diets that did not allow sweets.  Actually, many of them were rather grumpy.  I assumed this was because of the no-sugar thing. 

A few of them, however, looked greedily at my box of candy when they opened their doors.  Their eyes would grow wide at first and then narrow, shifting from side to side, finally landing suspiciously on me.  They would quickly lick their lips and ask for a half dozen or so.  “You aren’t going to tell anyone about this, are you?” they would inquire ominously.  I wasn’t even sure who I would tell but I would nod discreetly to let them know that their secret was safe with me.   

We were quickly approaching the contest deadline when I had the grand idea to sell candy in Indiana.  This is when my mother finally drew the line.  Apparently that line was at the state line!  By that time though I had sold quite a few cases of peanut butter cups.  I had peddled them all over Ohio.  Heck, we had probably eaten a whole case ourselves as they sat stacked en masse on the kitchen counter. 

In those last couple of days, I lay in bed wondering if I had done enough, sold enough, tried hard enough.  What if I came close but lost by one case?  I was in agony waiting to find out who had won.  I would envision myself riding my new bicycle.  Then I would envision someone else riding the bicycle that should have been mine. 

A few days later at school, the announcement finally came.  I fidgeted at my desk as the usual announcements about milk money and bus changes droned over the loudspeaker.   And then it was time. 

“We want to thank everyone who participated in the fundraiser.  The winner of the 10 lb. Hershey bar is…..”  And then they announced my name. Everyone in my homeroom class exploded into cheers of excitement.   I was completely deflated.  I had totally forgotten that the extra-large Hershey bar was a prize in the contest. I mean, a 10 lb. Hershey bar is pretty cool, but it’s not as cool as a bike.

I barely heard the second announcement over the ruckus of the classroom. “And the grand prize winner of the Schwinn 10 speed is…..” Once again, they announced my name.  I was shocked and overwhelmed with excitement.

I rode my new bike home from school that day.  My parents were pretty excited too, but I think they were just glad that the whole event was finally over.  I ended up selling 13 cases of candy that year. It was considerably more than I needed to win. The runner up sold 7 cases.   I guess I could have stopped selling sooner but, of course, there was no way to know that. I think it was a pretty good life lesson.

I do know that my younger sister wanted to sell Reece’s cups the next year.  If I remember correctly, my parents just bought her a bike instead. 

Hey, what can I say, some endings have life lessons, some don’t.