What Price a Life?

I find myself buying sympathy cards by the handful these days. My friends and I are at the stage of life in which many of our parents are passing away. Sometimes it is expected, after a long illness or decline, other times it is unexpected but not surprising when a parent leaves us.

Which leads me to the question..."What price for a life?"

Sometimes the bereaved is a very good friend, sometimes a distant relative. Sometimes the person is grieving, but are struggling with also being relieved that the person is no longer in pain. Sometimes the deceased was cruel and conniving, and the bereaved person is relieved that they are no longer in their life. Or they know they are truly missing their best friend and rock in the world.

Many times it is all of those things.

Trite cards of "sorry for your loss" lose their meaning among a sea of "sorry for your loss" sentiments. We are all sorry. Sorry for what? That they are no longer here, or that they suffered? Or that they made YOU suffer? 

Do I write a memoriam gift of $25? $50? $100? In the end, does the amount really matter? Writing the check for memoriam gifts is the one check that I think about for the longest time. Will they think less of me, or more of me if I write a check of a certain amount? Do they know that this amount is a sacrifice? Do they know we can afford more?  Does it matter?

Does it matter to them?

Does it matter to the deceased?

And so I express what I can, and focus on the things that made a person happy. Treasure the memories, be grateful for the gifts of the person's presence, for the happiness and good times that were had.

At the end of the day, that is all we can bring to others. 

Because no amount is ever enough. 

Physical Therapy: A Memory

I had the misfortune of being in two car accidents this year in which I was rear-ended. Twice. One occurred in late July, the other in late September. The one in late September did the most physical harm to me even though it was at a lower speed, because I had my neck craned all the way to the side looking for oncoming traffic. My head was nowhere near the headrest, so I had the full effect of a whiplash-like movement.

Within a day I was hurting and going to the chiropractor. Getting adjusted two or three times/week wasn't making a difference. I'd feel fine after the appointment but by the next morning my neck was stiff and painful. One Saturday I was in so much pain that I moved the entire day like a mannequin — I could not turn my head in either direction at all, and instead of looking down at things I had to bend down to see things below me.

Through a series of appointments and visits with various health care professionals, I found myself in physical therapy (PT) at PDR Clinics. I've been going twice a week for four weeks now.

I learned that while I had been doing neck stretches correctly, I hadn't been holding them for long enough for my muscles to actually benefit. I'm strengthening my muscles using their MedX machines to isolate muscles. Those difficult-to-exercise neck muscles are actually getting the workout they need to get stronger.

I've heard and know of many people who've had to go to PT for various injuries, and I'm so grateful for this area of care. It's important to put the work in — when the therapist says they want you doing stretches every day, they mean it!

All of this reminded of a time when my dad was sick. He battled colon cancer for 7 years before it finally claimed his life. During much of that time he was able to live life normally, and other times he was in so much pain and could not control his bowels, which makes living life pretty much impossible.

My dad and stepmom Terry in happier days. 

One time he was hospitalized for three weeks after a bowel resection surgery. He did not recover well, anesthesia always threw him for a loop, literally. He was out of his mind delirious for nearly five days before they realized that the painkiller they were giving him was doing that to him. Once they got him on a different painkiller he got back in his right mind and the healing could continue.

Recovering from one of many surgeries, April 2015. Grandkids Sam and Presley, wife Terry by his side.

He was so eager to get home that he convinced the doctors to release him even though he had hardly any strength after being bedridden for three weeks. In order to get into the house he sat down on the front steps and slid his butt up each stair; he could not even lift his legs high enough to climb a single step. I don't remember if the hospital bed was in their house at that time or not, but if he was able to make it up the stairs to the bedroom he probably didn't come down for several days.

Weeks went by and my stepmom-angel took care of him. He was getting a little better every day but still was very weak. I am not sure how it came about, but a doctor or someone finally convinced him to meet with a physical therapist at their house to help him build his strength.

I talked to him the day of the therapist's first visit. Dad was angry. "That was the stupidest thing ever," he grumped to me over the phone. "She had me sit in a chair and straighten my leg, hold it for a few seconds and then put it back down. It didn't do a damn thing." My dad was a big man, accustomed to being strong and active. The fact that he had weakened to the point that straightening his leg was considered "exercise" frustrated him.

The next day I called again just to see how he was doing. He was even more frustrated and annoyed because he was sore from the "supposed exercises." I think he felt even more defeated at how weak he had become.

I don't know if he ever kept up with the therapist, she may have come a few more times. And knowing how frustrated he was by the experience, I don't think he kept up with the exercises they told him to do.

After that particular hospitalization, my dad slowed down. He was never able to get back to the level of activity he'd had before, and he was incredibly slow at walking. My sister and I had a hard time walking as slowly as he did. I would literally hover a single foot in the air to make my steps as slow as his. One time Dad and Terry were in Minnesota visiting us and the four of us were walking to a restaurant. Kristi and I absentmindedly started walking at our regular pace and within a few minutes found ourselves nearly half a block in front of Dad and Terry. God bless my stepmom, she assured my dad that she was feeling "tired" and needed extra time as well so that she could walk beside him. She did that everywhere they went.

I'm missing my dad this time of year. His birthday is on Christmas Eve, this whole experience of going to PT for my own injury is reminding me of his experience.

Writing a "To Done" List

I have started using an app called "Noom" to start tracking my nutrition and exercise, in an attempt to get healthy and lose some weight. "Noom" is all about the psychology of why we eat what we eat, what triggers us to make unhealthy decisions and help us counter those. The goal is to help people make better choices moving forward so users can maintain a healthy weight the rest of our lives.

This week the coaches at Noom had us do an exercise and create a "to-done" list, and I thought it was too good to not share with others.

We all have a "to-do" list, right? Be it a for work, home, family or just you, we've all got a running list of things we need to do. Mine often consists of stuff like: get groceries, make a dinner menu for the week, run kids around to appointments, make various phone calls for house projects, et cetera. That doesn't include client projects or other things that make their way onto that list.

The coach at Noom asked us to make a "to-done" list. List all of the things that you've accomplished this past week or month or whatever, those things that were most important to you. Your "to-done" list could look something like this:

1. Had a successful project launch at work.
2. Finally made it to the dentist which I've been putting off.
3. Spent time with friends at a happy hour.

Review that list, and now ask yourself, "What of these things is important and will be remembered?" 

This became really poignant when one of my group members posted her list, which consisted of many enjoyable activities like gardening, spending time with her grandkids, finally seeing a friend she hadn't seen in decades. She had this to say about her list:

"I've been retired for 13 years, and I've told myself that there is so much I want to do in retirement. I thought I would have less stress, but I still have stress and have more health issues than ever. Making this list have made me focus on the most important things in my life...my health and how much time I have left to enjoy it. Today is a new day with opportunities and I am going to make the best of it."

Wow. All that discovery from a weight-loss app? Yes.

Before reading her post I had made a list of my own. As expected, it consisted of many things that had been on my "to-do" list that were now done: Grocery shopping. Cleaning. Running kids around to appointments.

I made a second list after I read hers, and it read a little differently:

And then I had this epiphany: Those things that are on my "to-done" list need to start by being on my "to-do" list. I need to make room in my life for those things that bring fulfillment and happiness to me and to those around me. My kids probably won't know or care about how much grocery shopping I did, but Marissa will definitely remember going paddleboarding on a beautiful summer day with her mom, and Lindsey will have memories of learning how to drive with me in the passenger seat. (Hopefully not traumatic memories.)

Now I ask you: What things do you need to put on your "to-do" list so they make your "to-done" list?

The Artist's Way

About a month ago I began a 12-week course called "The Artist's Way." I had never heard of it before I started it. My sister-in-law Laurie is doing it and encouraged me to give it a try. And by "encouraged" I mean she bought me the book and a journal to go along with it and said, "Do this." Couldn't get more "encouraged" than that!

Here's the gist of the book and course: all human beings, having been created, are capable of  creativity. We simply have to channel the creativity that is given to us by [insert belief here, God, the Universe, the Divine One, whatever or whomever], and creativity is ours to tap into at any time. We do not have to "wait" for inspiration, we simply need to be open to the experience, or as the author says, "unblocked," be still, and listen.

In a nutshell.

What I'm finding is that to "unblock" your creative self you need to do a lot of self-assessment. Outside of going to therapy, which only a portion of the population does, how else do people improve their personal selves? I've been to hours and hours of professional training: nonprofit conferences, writing/storytelling seminars, how to be a better manager, how to be a better employee, etc. etc. But this course is really "how to be a better person."

My whole sober curious journey began when I started thinking about things that block my creativity, and alcohol was one of them. I decided to try cutting it out of my life, and in the very next chapter I read, "At this point in your journey you may find yourself wanting to remove some toxicity from your life, be it a toxic friend or a toxic behavior." Huh! Imagine that, I was one week ahead of the author.

It has you do exercises like: "If you had five other lives to live, what other professions would you be or do?" Then the next day it has you list 5 more. One of the exercises has you list 20 things you enjoy doing. Twenty! Try it. I did, and I was at a loss after eight. I've got to start some hobbies before I can retire or I'm going to be bored AND boring!

I'm on Week 4 which is the "reading deprivation" week. This is the week that you are not allowed to read anything, to create silence within yourself to allow your own creativity to flow. Two things about this were crushing for me:

1. I just started the novel "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman and it is AMAZING. I'm only a few chapters in and now had to take a one-week break from it which makes me mad because I can't wait to pick it up again.

2. "No reading" also means no social media, so I deleted my social media icons off my phone and logged out on my computer so I'm not tempted to scroll.

The social media one is by far more difficult. Still, five days into this reading deprivation thing, I find myself automatically hitting where the icons on my phone used to be. I check it out of habit several times an hour. It's a great habit to break, I may just leave the icons off my phone from now on.

Supposedly I'm going to start hating this journey starting around week 5 or 6, so I thought I'd better write about it now before I turn against it. We'll see how all of this goes!

No More Wine Time

I am setting an intention, which means you, dear reader, get to be a part of this.

I have decided to abstain from alcohol for...well, for a yet undetermined amount of time.

Lately several reports have come out talking about how the emerging "mommy drinking" culture has normalized alcoholism for women. The blog post I linked to above is a perfect example of how it happens. And our retailers have helped this along.

These are some photos of a display at PaperSource, a store that specializes in paper products; invitations, greeting cards, gift wrap, and customized invitations for special events. Plus, of course, gifts. This was the majority of the gifts available in the store yesterday, outside of the Easter display.



If I were looking for a gift for a girlfriend for her birthday, I can either refer to her addiction to prosecco, mixed drinks or wine. This is not what I would expect at PaperSource.

But really, it's not their fault. They are just jumping on the bandwagon of jokes about how our kids drive us to drink, right?

I find myself craving a glass of wine around the time I would start cooking dinner. I truly embody Julia Childs' quote about cooking with wine. During the week I used to ignore it, but then the days I would cave and open a bottle went from weekend nights to Thursday through Sunday nights.

Then I would have a glass with dinner. And then a titch more with a piece of chocolate or something for dessert, and the bottle that my husband and I had opened together was gone.

But then...what will I drink with the movie I plan on watching later on?

That is my true downfall — I enjoy having a drink while watching a movie. And sometimes I stay up late to watch a movie all by myself. After all, some days it's the only "alone time" I get. Before I know it bottle #2 is empty or nearly empty.

All without feeling any effects of the alcohol until the very end of the movie.

There are an average of 635 calories in a bottle of wine; by the end of the evening I would have had nearly 900 calories worth of wine. Do that several nights a week and suddenly the weight I'm trying to drop won't drop. Shocking.

Plus the fact that I can drink two glasses of wine with no effect is concerning. It sets a bad example for my kids.

So...I've decided to abstain entirely for a time, to give my body a break from having to process all that poison. I'm paying attention to my "critical moments," those times when I really crave a glass of wine, when they happen, who I'm around when they happen, and choosing a different behavior instead of opening a bottle. Sparkling water and limes will always in my house, so I can get a refreshing drink without need the alcohol to make it taste refreshing.

We'll see how this goes. Who knows, maybe I'll reduce my alcohol tolerance and be able to return to having just a drink or two at special occasions. But for now, this is the intention I am setting and I appreciate all of your support in this endeavor.

A Child's Funeral

Last week I attended a funeral for a child.  I hope to never have to do that again.

This child was 13, a classmate of my youngest, and had taken her own life. As if that wasn't devastating enough, no one — no one, not teachers, family, friends — had any idea that she was suicidal. Friends knew she had been depressed recently, but no one had any idea that she was having thoughts of ending her life. She grew up in a large family with many aunties and cousins, a loving mom and grandparents. She was a talented artist, musician and beautiful in so many ways.

It's difficult to guide your children through grief when you yourself need to process as well. There were some things said at the funeral that really touched me, and I wanted to get them down.

One of the minister had the following message (I'm paraphrasing):

After someone takes their own life, the survivors are left with the question "Why?" Many came to the funeral feeling grief, or anger, or confusion, or any combination of these things. Why? The truth is, we may never know why. 

I took comfort in this, in part because I had been through every one of those emotions in processing the idea of a 13-year-old taking her own life. And...I took comfort in letting go of the "why's." They weren't mine to discover or know, I could let go of them.

During the beautiful euology that one of the aunts shared, she talked about Aria's suicide.

Look around this church, see all the people who loved and cherished her. If only she could see this. But she was 13. She didn't understand the finality of her actions. She didn't have the life experiences to know that pain is temporary. Pain ends; it molds you, it can shape you and make you stronger, and it always goes away. She didn't realize that, and she only saw one way out of her pain.

I've been mulling this one over since I heard it. I never thought of pain as temporary, but it is. It will ease with time, with help from others, with treatment. I have great sympathy for people who live with chronic pain, though I suspect even that pain goes away at times, in the same way that it flares.

The last minister said a message that was difficult to hear, which is that suicide is a sin, in that God's commandment of "thou shall not kill" also means you shall not kill yourself. But he said it is a forgivable sin, as this girl was a child of God, baptized in the church and a follower of Jesus. I still find this hard to digest, because I do not believe you need to believe in Jesus to see God, but that's a thread for another day to follow.

He also said, "Aria was not perfect." This was jarring to hear after hearing so many people recount her many wonderful traits. "But I can say the same for everyone in this room, myself included. No one is perfect. We are created in God's image, but we are human and have our flaws. That is why forgiveness exists, to forgive ourselves for our imperfection."

The music was beautiful, the many messages were heartfelt and incredible. During the time of remembrance they played a video that her good friend had made of various classmates giving their final wishes to Aria. The minute it started people around me began to tear up, just to hear these young voices saying good-bye. Marissa was included in the video and had quite a long clip. I could hear her quietly sobbing form where she stood with her friends while it played.

The final recessional song was "Stand by Me," but the twist was that it was a video of Aria playing her ukulele and singing the song. She had such a beautiful voice. Then the video stopped and the song was taken over by the pianist. What a touching way to end the service.

Outward Appearances

I've run into a certain older gentleman at my local Cub Foods many times over the past few months. He is probably in his 70's or 80's, very spry, and talks to absolutely everyone. He and I have struck up a conversation several times, most recently this past week when Marissa and I were stocking up for Christmas.

He was packing up groceries on one side and I on the other, and he turns to me and says, "Do you know what the difference is between outlaws and in-laws?" A well-timed pause of an often-told joke. "Outlaws are wanted."

He said that people just aren't happy enough, don't laugh enough, and he takes it upon himself to spread a little joy, all year round. I wished him a Merry Christmas and we went on our way.

Marissa and I were commenting about the exchange on the way home. She had overheard him talking in another aisle to another customer about his Christmas plans. His son was having him over on Christmas Eve, he would be spending Christmas Day with his daughter and her family.

"But I'm really looking forward to December 26th," he said to the gentleman. "My wife died 8 years ago, it's just not the same without her. Holidays are difficult."

From all outward appearances he seems happy, spreading laughter to strangers wherever he goes. Yet he harbors grief inside, something that he tries not to dwell on but that is a part of him.

I am thinking of him this Christmas morning and hoping he is enjoying time with his family, while honoring the part of him that misses his wife. People need a little love and understanding, even, and perhaps especially, those who don't appear to need it.

It's Not Dental Phobia

I have a permanent retainer behind my bottom teeth, and I loathe how it captures food and I can't get it out. I brush, floss, and have even bought cheap dental tools to pick at this retainer.

Then I got the best advice ever — a friend of mine who has the same issue has her teeth cleaned every 4 months. Sure, you pay for an extra cleaning a year out of your own pocket, but it's all of $85 and it's worth it to me.

Yesterday was my cleaning, and I got into an interesting conversation with the hygienist. Or, I should say, she had a lot of interesting thoughts that I agreed with by making odd sounds with my mouth wide open.

She talked about seeing patients who finally came in for a cleaning for the first time in 15 or 20 years. They have such dental phobia that they never see a dentist. Some have no issues at all, just really, really dirty teeth, while others end up with a mouthful of cavities and future crowns and bridges.

Upon thinking about this, I've determined that I don't have dental phobia, I have a fear of bad teeth. Our teeth are made of bone; once they're gone, there is no substance in the world as strong that will replace them. Crowns need to be replaced, bridges fall apart. Our natural teeth are the authentic manufacturer-installed parts; once they are replaced, the fit isn't quite as tight, the holding as deep or strong.

I have dreams (nightmares, really) where my teeth suddenly start falling out of my mouth at random and I am devastated. I worry that my teeth will start wiggling and coming out like baby teeth. I fear the day that I'm told I need a crown, because I loathe the idea of filing down two perfectly good teeth just to put a false one between them.

And so I go to the dentist often not because I'm afraid of the dentist, I'm afraid of bad teeth.

It's been working out well. About a year ago my dentist noticed that one of my molars that's had a filling in it since childhood was starting to crack. He recommended that we remove the old silver filling and put in a new one made with material that would flow down into the crack and seal it, hopefully saving the tooth from cracking further. It's been a year now, so far so good.

Every dentist I've ever had as an adult has commented on how good the fillings I had put in as a child are. Thank you, Dr. Nyder, our next-door-neighbor and dentist, for your awesome work 40+ years ago!

Well now, this was a completely random post, I can't believe you made it to the end. Thanks for reading my rambling thoughts. It's leading me to another post about my daughter Marissa's dental woes, stay tuned for that if you actually read this one.

"Hey Alexa, Stop My Scattering Thoughts"

This past September our family got the Amazon Echo Dot. Two of them, to be exact.

This is the device that you activate by saying "Alexa," and then asking any number of questions. She most often tells us the time or the weather.

In the morning the girls and I will play the song quiz, where Alexa plays a few seconds of songs from various eras and players take turns guessing the artist and title.

Our favorite Alexa skill is the shopping list. The minute I realize I'm out of something, I tell Alexa to put it on my shopping list. By the time I go grocery shopping, the list is already built of everything the family needs.

Which brought me to an interesting thought, among my scattered thoughts.

I was sitting in my kitchen working on a project, when I suddenly remembered that I had opened the last gallon of milk that morning. "Alexa, put milk on my shopping list," I called out, and she dutifully did so.

A song came on in the kitchen and I told Alexa to skip it. The next song was rather loud, so I told Alexa to turn down the volume. A few minutes later, I thought about taking the dog for a walk and asked Alexa what the weather was like.

I found myself calling out to Alexa every few minutes, taking care of the random thoughts that flitted through my brain.

Which brings me to this question: are my thoughts scattered because of Alexa, or is it just more obvious because I interact with a device whenever my thoughts scatter?

Many of us struggle with focus and concentration, especially those of us responsible for family activities, stocking a household, appointments and work obligations. Are these devices helping or hurting?

After my experience working on this project at home, I feel like Alexa helped me. A random thought would come across my brain, I had Alexa take care of it and I could go back to my project. Normally I would be telling myself to remember to put "milk" on a list later on, and that thought would never leave my brain until it was taken care of.

Our family started with just two Alexa devices, we are now up to four. If I'm ever in a place where I can't just take care of something by telling Alexa to do something, I get annoyed. "Great, now I have to remember this until I get home and ask Alexa," I'll grumble in my car.

Are our brains moving forward or backward?

Concert Ticket for One, Please

On Friday night I joined dozens of my friends and fellow U2 lovers and went to the U2 concert at the US Bank Stadium in Minneapolis.

Except I sat alone.

I knew many of my friends were planning on going, had probably purchased tickets the second they went on sale. Because our family life has been so unpredictable of late, I didn't buy one. As the date came closer and closer, I knew I couldn't miss one of my favorite bands for the second time in three years. I nabbed a cheap ticket from a neighbor on NextDoor.com and made plans to go alone.

Turns out that I was able to have dinner beforehand with my childhood friend Lisa and her sister, Kathy, who traveled from Green Bay to the Twin Cities to visit and take in the concert. We walked to the stadium after dinner and then parted ways. I headed up to the top-most tier, second to last row from the back wall.

Lisa and Kathy, two of the four "Hirsch girls" as they will always be to our family. 

Looking out the massive glass doors of the stadium onto downtown Minneapolis on my way up to my seat.

I chatted for a bit with the couple next to me, who had also purchased their tickets from the same couple I had. But once the concert began, it was just the music and I.

I danced. I sang. I stood up when nobody else around me was. I belted out every word to the lesser known songs when no one else was singing.

The visual show was incredible. Inspiring. Magical. I am so glad I took in this experience.

The Joshua Tree, opening scene.

The real Bono is the white spot in the blue light on stage. The visuals were unbelievable.

Gives a new meaning to "harvest moon." 

It's not the first time I've gone to events on my own, the first one being Creed in 2010. I had loved the band at their height but lived in Mankato at the time, and going to the concert in the Twin Cities was a bit more daunting then. Now, on what I suspected would be their last tour, I couldn't miss them. I ended up connecting with a gay couple next to me during the concert, and we went out afterwards for a drink.

Another time two of my favorite guitarists, Jonny Lang and Kenny Wayne Shepherd, were in a tour called "The Hendrix Experience," with some of the top guitarists paying tribute to Jimmy Hendrix. No one was interested in going with me, so I bought myself a ticket and went. I ended up leaving that one early because I had forgotten to bring ear plugs and I was so close to the stage that I was seated in front of the wall of speakers. I love a good Joe Satriani solo, but knew I was doing my ears damage when my head started ringing. When I walked out into the crisp March night the world was muted and didn't sound quite right until well into the next day. Oops.

When "Les Miserable" came back around the Twin Cities I wanted to go, even though I'd already seen it previously with my husband early on in our marriage. He had no interest in seeing it again (he also doesn't watch re-runs on TV, unless it's a Star Trek series), so I bought a ticket for one and went. I had forgotten how moving and tragic the music was; I cried through almost the entire thing. It didn't matter -- no one knew me.

One plus of buying a single ticket is that you can buy them at the last minute and get much closer to the stage than if you needed to buy two seats together. I sat in the 16th row at Creed with a walkway in front of me; yeay for extra space for dancing!

My sister goes to lots of events on her own. Sometimes I feel badly that I am not able to join her, but experiences like this one make me realize that it isn't lonely to go to events alone, it is freeing. I don't have to worry if someone else is enjoying him/herself, or if I've picked a place that meets his/her needs. I don't have to make extra stops for food, drink, or bathrooms, outside of what I need for myself.

I don't want to ever regret not taking in an experience because I wasn't willing to do it alone. So thank you, U2, for an unforgettable concert.

I Was Okay Until You Asked if I Was Okay

Source: griefhealingblog.com

My boss's father recently passed away quite unexpectedly. He had a history of heart troubles, but he had been healthy of late. He even recently traveled to Minnesota from the east coast to visit family, and was feeling good up until the morning he died.

The family is saddened that no one else besides his wife got to say good-bye to him, and yet, truly, isn't this how all of us want to go, quickly, not linger on in the care of someone else?

In the days that followed, his widow did not want to go out. She would look out the peephole of the condo door before taking the garbage out, because she didn't want to run into anyone and have that person ask how she was.

Many of us are like her. We are fine on the outside, seemingly functioning, taking care of ourselves, getting up in the morning, eating, working, even laughing.

But the minute someone asks "Are you okay?" it becomes very obvious that we are not.

Living with anxiety or depression is like that. It can sometimes take all your strength to get out the door, to leave the security and comfort of your home. Even the very thought of leaving brings tears, but finally, by God, you're out the door, into the world.

And then some well-meaning person sees red-rimmed eyes, the aftermath of the effort to join them, and says, "Are you okay?"

Well dammit, you were until someone asked. Suddenly all of the struggles you've worked so hard to shove away deep inside are right there on the surface, exposed. You find yourself on the verge of tears, fingers trembling, face reddening at the lie you have to tell.

For me, my well-perfected answer is, "I'll be fine, thank you for asking." End of conversation, or at least I hope.

Except, I have people in my life who ask, "Are you suuuure?"

And unless this person is a confidante, someone who is in my inner circle of people I connect with, lean on and share my life with, usually s/he is just curious. People living with anxiety or depression do not just walk around spilling their guts to everyone who asks "Are you okay? Are you suuuure you're okay?"

Those who are dealing with the aftermath of a loss, like my stepmother or my boss's mother, often don't need or want to rehash every last detail of their loved one's final hours. Some do, but then you never need to ask "Are you sure?" because they'll be talking your ear off and you'll be nodding and looking at them while practicing your sympathetic expression.

Those suffering from anxiety or depression look a lot like grieving people; if you were a part of their healing circle, you would know it and wouldn't be asking "Are you suuuure?"

I guess my point is...

Please ask "Are you okay?" and be okay with whatever answer you get. If you somehow feel urged on to ask, "Are you sure?" stop yourself and instead say "Let me know if I can help." If you can, that person will let you know.

Sometimes this small kindness is all it takes.

Pecking Order and Your Food (They are Related, Really)

 You've probably heard the term "pecking order," it usually means something about corporate  or social hierarchy, also expressed as "Sh*t rolls downhill."

Except there's an actual reality to pecking order. They're called chickens.

You know, those pink, small pieces of meat you buy from the grocery store? That chicken. My daughter was 4 before she realized that a living chicken was the same thing as a roasted chicken breast on her plate.

Long ago, back when farmers were farming for their families mostly, and hoped to sell a few items on the side to support their family, they raised chicken by what we now call "free range" methods.

Chickens could roam freely through the farmland. They could go anywhere they wanted, eat anything they wanted. And they established a pecking order, because that's how chickens work as a species.

The strongest chickens would "peck" the smaller and weaker chickens for food and water, which would peck weaker chickens in turn, and a social order was established. Chickens were hurt. Many had wounds, lost their eyesight, their mobility and their lives.

Cartoon of a chicken pecking another because showing an actual photo would be graphic and cruel.

Farmers got frustrated losing so many of their chickens. The birds had clearly suffered. It was expensive. So they started putting the chickens in cages.

In cages, the strongest chickens could not get to the weakest. They could not establish a "pecking order," and they had no need to. Their world was as small as the cage they were in -- they didn't give two clucks about the chicken in the cage over there.

Mortality decreased. Production increased. And farmers could finally sell more eggs than their families consumed.

Yes, this is simplistic. Yes, this does not take into consideration all that is known about animal science today. But...the clamor for cage-free eggs does not take animal science into consideration either. Because guess what: forcing farmers to raise chickens in the old way, the "cage free" way, is forcing them to have more chickens die. Do they get paid more for eggs raised from cage-free chickens? Not necessarily.

As a matter of fact, in California, where legislation has required that shelled eggs, the kind most of us know from grocery stores, must come from cage-free farms. Instead of paying, say, $2.00 a dozen, they cost $4.00 a dozen to cover the losses. (And by "losses" I mean the higher chicken mortality rate.) The people who advocated for and voted this into law order their groceries online, get them delivered to their house, and pay twice as much for eggs as they paid before, and don't think twice about it.

In the meantime, the family that is barely scraping by, the one with a single parent working two jobs, can no longer afford eggs. At all. Since the $2.00/dozen eggs are no longer available due to legislation, they are left with what is available at the food bank; powdered eggs, which are not required to come from cage-free chickens, if they purchase eggs at all.

Then the price of eggs drops, because the demand did not keep up with supply. The cage-free farmers don't actually get $4.00/dozen, they get more like $2.50, because people without the means to buy $4.00 eggs stop buying them. Now the farmers are in a lose-lose proposition, and because this is the law they can't go back to raising chickens the way they used to. Some choose to raise some other livestock, thus reducing the supply of eggs, permanently keeping fresh eggs from the lowest socioeconomic people in our society.

This is not a free capital market.

I am not an economist, nor a food producer. I am a consumer, seeing and hearing the news, and listening to people who don't know what "GMO" means clamor for non-GMO food. (FYI, "honey crisp" apples exist because of GMO practices. So do poodles.)

We are not them. They are not us. 

I am sure there are more factors pressing upon the market than the one I just described. I just ask that people listen and be open to more possibilities than the one being spooned to them by advocacy groups, no matter the intention. Being organic, cage-free, non-GMO is not necessarily better, just different. Choose wisely.

Ruminations on Yet Another Tragedy

Yesterday's events were...were...well, pick your adjective. Awful. Horrific. Terrifying. Tragic.

Frustrating.

Frustrating because they happen so often. Domestic or international, terrorism is a now a part of the fabric of our country. Like it or not.

For those not close to the world of runners, for whom the Boston Marathon is just another marathon, let me reassure you it is not. The marathon takes place on Patriot's Day, a holiday which celebrates the start of the American Revolution.

Businesses in Massachusetts are closed on Patriot's Day, with the exception of the hospitality industry, which enjoys one of its busiest and most profitable weekends of the year. There is always a Red Sox home game on this day. And for the last 117 years, there is always a Boston Marathon.

Bombing the finish line of the Boston marathon is like bombing Disney World. It is an icon of the triumph of the human spirit over adversity. It is a mystical place, its blue paint an everlasting mark in the city every day of the year.

As with the Sandy Hook tragedy, I did not turn on the TV. I did not watch coverage. And after ensuring the safety of everyone we knew who was out there via a Facebook page, eventually I logged off of social media. Because people's reactions were...were...well, pick your adjective. Ridiculous. Attention seeking. Annoying.

The events of the afternoon were still unfolding when I saw the first graphic pop up, showing the Boston Athletic Association's logo and a "we will never forget" tagline slung onto it.

We will never forget? We don't even know what we'll never forget yet, what are you talking about?

And then a candle. A skyline of Boston. All with words of sympathy and hope and "we will endure."

WHAT will we endure? We don't even know what's happening! This isn't a year after this event, it's CURRENTLY HAPPENING. Knock that shit off.

Let's get to what we know first, which is very little. Less than 24 hours later we now know that there were 2 bombs. Not four. Not seven. Two. They both detonated within a minute of each other two blocks from the other bomb's location, very close to the finish line. Early reports are that they were sophisticated in nature, and meant to create maximum human damage. Two people are dead and more than 140 injured. Federal, state and local investigators are actively pursuing this investigation and working together to find the perpetrators.

That's all we know.

Yes, it is tragic. Our family was there in Boston last year and our oldest was 8 at the time, the same age as the little boy who was killed. I feel for the families affected by this, and am terribly sorry that it happened. Let's not minimize their pain by creating graphics that go viral on social media before we have a grasp of the events of the day.

What touched my heart was the number of people who reached out to me throughout the day, either by text, phone, email, or stopping at my door, to ask if I knew people there. They know I'm plugged into the running community, even if I'm not a so-called runner, and I was so grateful for their personal inquiries as to the well-being of my family and friends. THAT meant more to me than any graphic. Thank you. You know who you are.

Blessings Upon Blessings

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you'll know that a couple of weeks ago Wayne and I made an impromptu purchase. A very strange purchase, if you know us at all.

We traded in my beloved Civic for a Lexus. A Lexus I say, did you hear me? Me, a Lexus??

Crazy talk.

But I was tired of getting stuck in the snow, of having to strategically select alternate routes through my neighborhood and downtown St. Paul to get to work because my car couldn't handle snowy or ill-plowed streets. And no matter how good the snow removal, when it snows 10 inches or more in 24 hours, the plows just can't keep up. We considered a smaller SUV or cross-over, but ultimately decided an all-wheel-drive sedan would do the trick, we didn't really need the cargo space.

We had talked about trading in my car in a couple of years, but Wayne found a used Lexus for a great deal at a dealership north of us. We went up to take a look, liked what we saw and bought the damn thing then and there.

Change of subject.

This year our spring break happens to fall during the exact same week as my stepsister's and her family's. This meant that for the first time we can coordinate our vacations so that our annual winter/holiday get-away doesn't have to take place on a rushed weekend between full school/ work weeks. We can leisurely take our time getting to our destination and spend extra time with each other!

At the same time, we had to figure out when to get to Tracy to celebrate Wayne's mom's birthday which is in early April, so we decided to go down the earlier part of our spring break. We'll be celebrating both Easter and her birthday on the same weekend, even though her birthday is technically closer to the first weekend in April than the last weekend in March.

Change of subject once again...or not.

My aunt recently passed away. She was much loved by many near and far, not least of all her own octogenarian sister and brother-in-law who live in St. Peter, MN. Could I, perchance, drive them to the funeral in Michigan?

It took a little finagling to get our schedules and locations to work, since I will already be halfway to our destination in Wisconsin on my vacation, but I believe we've finally worked it out where I will meet them halfway across Wisconsin, drive them all the way to Michigan, and drive them back after the weekend is done.

Something I could NOT have done had I still been driving my little Civic. There's no way I would have asked two people in their 80's to ride in my tiny little car with no suspension for 8 hours.

Something I could NOT have done had we also had to be back in Tracy celebrating Wayne's mom's birthday, something that -- at his parents' advancing age -- we do not want to miss.

Something I could NOT have done had I not already been on spring break and already planned to take most of the days off to make this trip. As it is, I will only need to take one additional day off of my planned vacation for the trip back home.

I truly believe all of these seemingly unrelated incidents aligned together to allow this trip to Michigan to happen. And while I'm not looking forward to the reason for our gathering, I am looking forward to the gathering itself, seeing cousins I haven't seen for a decade or more, aunts and uncles and all sorts of relatives I probably don't remember meeting.

Thanks, universe.

P.S. This is the hat I am wearing to her funeral. She was too joyful of a woman to wear all black.

On Inviting Stillness

While vacationing with my sister-in-law Laurie in Florida, I had time to talk to her about the changes both she and I have made in our lives recently.

I've been stepping up my fitness level and am loving my new energy and my continually changing body. She has focused on changing her inner self, starting with a 21-day meditation program and eventually incorporating meditation and reflection into her daily life. There is a peace and a happiness about her that didn't used to be there. Or I should say, if it was, it did not exude from her being as it does now.

She invited me to join her in a 15-minute meditation session, following along a podcast from Deepak Chopra. Sure, I said, I'll try anything once.

I am telling you, those were the longest 15 minutes of my day. My fitness programs of 45 to 60 minutes go by in a heartbeat compared to those 15 minutes.

I have no idea how to achieve stillness. I do not know how to go "into my inner mind." I don't know how to actually relax, not physically but mentally. And it was such a deeply moving meditation about inviting abundance into your life that despite my obvious lack of comfort in the experience it brought me to tears anyway.

Part of what brought me to tears was realizing how very little I do this. And by "very little" I mean "never." My blogging is as close as I come to "stillness," and it doesn't come close to meditating.

I recently read a post by a European who wrote with derision about how busy Americans make themselves. "Americans think that packing action into every moment of their waking day means they lead full lives. I watch them scurry from landmark to landmark on their travels, never stopping to actually taste the wine, to enjoy the sights of a beautiful day in my country. Will they feel any more fulfilled at the end of their lives than I at mine?"

Another exercise Laurie had me try was on New Year's Eve, to issue out the old and welcome the new. She told me to write down on a piece of paper the things I wanted to leave behind in the old year, then burn that piece of paper. Then I was to write down the things I want to invite into my life in the New Year and meditate on those things.

I had a few days to think about what I wanted to leave behind. I have to say I'm really happy with my life. I have a good job, love my husband, my kids and extended family, we are fortunate in our financial situation, we are healthy and quite happy. Was there any part of what happened this past year that I would want to leave behind?

It took a run on the beach on my last day there for my mind to clear enough to decide upon three things I wanted to leave in the old year.

Impatience
Anger
Busy-ness

And to invite into the New Year:

Boundful patience
Stillness

(I figure if I invite patience and stillness that anger and other negative emotions will take care of themselves.)

These two words -- patience and stillness -- enter my mind as soon as I awake in the morning. I think of them during my drive to work, and I focus on taking deep belly breaths throughout the day. Sure, there is no stillness in my life, but I am learning stillness in my mind.

I'm working on it, and that's more than I did before.

What's in a name? Specifically, mine?



This is what you get when you search for "Jenny" in Google images.



I had two recent experiences of running into other people named "Jenny."

In case you are not of my generation, let me remind you how incredibly common the name "Jennifer" is. It was the #1 name given to babies from 1970 until 1979, beating the #2 name (which was "Amy," by the way) by a 2 to 1 margin.

There were 5 Jennifers in my kindergarten class. The teacher couldn't even separate us by first and middle name combinations because three of us were Jennifer Lynns. Then they tried to separate us by birthday, but two of us had been born on May 19. I didn't even get my own birthday. Awesome.

My freshman year of college there were 10 Jennifers on my floor in my dorm, including my roommate. Again, awesome.

We all got creative about our names. My roommate was J.J, the initials of her first and last name. Someone else went by Jenna, another was Jen, etc.

I ultimately stuck with what I'd been called all through high school: Floria. But my first name was always Jenny. When professors would call names at the beginning of the school year and call me "Jennifer," I immediately corrected them. It's Jenny.

If I'm accidentally called "Jennifer" in settings with my friends or relatives, they snicker. "You are not a Jennifer," they tell me. I don't feel like a Jennifer, that's for sure, but I couldn't tell what the difference was.

My daughter and I noticed that an employee at a store mall had a nametage that said Jenny. She was in her mid-20's, definitely not of my generation.

And on a recent trip to Caribou, I noticed that the barista's nametag said Jenny (another one in her mid 20's). I said to her, "I'm a Jenny, too!" as if it hadn't once been the most common name in the United States.

Surprisingly, she shared my enthusiasm. She took my order, and then we chatted a bit about our incredibly common name.

"So you never shortened it to Jen, or gone by Jennifer?" I asked.

"Nope, I'm a Jenny through and through," she said. "We're more bubbly, us Jennys. Am I right?"

Yes indeed, I believe that is the difference.

An Ad That Says What I Would Never Dare

I have to thank Blue Cross Blue Shield for their most recent public message ads.


I was in a seminar earlier this week and we were discussing the new ads. There happened to be a BCBS employee in the seminar and she shared how controversial those ads have been. Comments on their YouTube channel are mostly in the negative, telling them that they don't like the ads, they are hurtful, rude, etc.

These same ads have more views and hits than any of their previous public health messages, so they aren't backing down. They've struck a chord, and I think it's a good one.

Here's the thing, folks: For the first time in American history, the generation being raised today is expected to have a lower life expectancy than the generation raising them. We've made incredible advances in medicine, are curing cancers at higher rates than ever before, and know what chemicals can cause cancer and have regulated the most harmful ones out of our food and environment.

We have incredible health screening and know more today about what to look for in blood tests, MRIs, or whatever screening a doctor orders to get to the root of a health problem.

But because 1 in 3 children and adolescents are considered overweight, all those advances won't matter.

Listen to the American Heart Association, the American Diabetes Association, American Cancer Society or any of these incredible nonprofits who have been working diligently to fund research for their various causes. They all have one criteria in common that will impact people's chances of getting the disease they are working so hard to eradicate. That one criteria is weight.

People who are overweight are at higher risk for heart disease, diabetes, cancer, disorders of the endocrine, gastrointestinal system, you name it, the risks are higher.

Yet people are offended if a doctor mentions his or her weight during a regular check-up. Advocacy groups like the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance work on behalf of overweight people to gain acceptance in society, to be accepted for who they are and how they look. I'm all for not discriminating based on a person's weight, but that doesn't mean the person has to accept that weight as his or her fate.

What does this mean to the next generation? All I know is that the worst loss a person can suffer is the loss of a child. Our children are supposed to live beyond us, and a great many of us will be burying our children because of this epidemic.

Thank you, BCBS, for bringing this to our attention. Now let's get to work.

I Choose Joy

Several years ago I sought the advice of a life coach to help me with some changes I'd been going through. She was a great sounding board and a huge help to me. I wanted to share one of the ways in which she helped me find balance in my life.

One of the exercises she took me through was to analyze all the different areas of my life through a circle. Her circle had 16 slices; I cannot remember all of the slices that we talked about. In hindsight I think she was a little too detailed in all the different areas that impact a person's life. But I put into this circle the ones that I remembered us talking about.

The point of the exercise was to evaluate your happiness with each of the areas, and to score each area based on that happiness. If you were pleased with it, you gave it a 12.5 so that you had 8 balanced areas of your life. If you weren't pleased score it lower, and score something else higher, then think about what could you do to change it. This wasn't about where you spent your time, but where you spent your energy, be it positive or negative. (For example, if you spend half the winter complaining about how cold it is, maybe you should choose to live in a different climate.)

When she and I began working together, my chart looked something like this:

I was very happy with what was happening at work -- I loved what I did, who I worked with, felt very fulfilled and challenged at the same time. I also spent a lot of energy on work -- not just hours in the day, but time when I should have been sleeping or spending time with family that I instead spent thinking about work.

I scored "friends" low not because I don't enjoy my friends, but because I didn't get to spend enough time with them.

I scored low on "family" for the same reason.

Ditto on "community." Community? What the hell is that, anyway, and who has time for it? Certainly not me.

What's the question mark in the middle of the circle, you ask? I asked the same question. Once we'd gone through the entire exercise and I'd scored and drawn all my slices of my life's pie, she told me to put in the center of the circle, in a single word, the thing that I wanted to center my life on. It could be anything. Some people would put "power," or "God," or "wealth." She told me to take my time, that it would take a while to determine what I wanted to center my life on.

Oh, that's easy, I said, I already know.

I choose joy.

 

Joy. It's such a simple thing. Everything I wanted in my life I wanted not just to bring myself joy, but to bring joy to others.

And once I said it, I realized that I really needed to work this circle. I needed to find time to develop my friendships, to spend time with my family, to get connected to my community. And that meant one particular piece of this pie had to get smaller.

That was when I began a new job search in earnest, to leave a job I loved and try something utterly new and unknown. It was terrifying to think about, much less act upon.

Nearly 3 years later, I can say that my circle looks very close to the last one. I have wonderful, dear friends whom I actually get to spend time with. I have made every recital, field trip, teacher conference that I've wanted to attend. I enjoy my job, learning new things while playing to my strengths and having fun with my co-workers. My husband and I have re-connected and are a team, raising our girls together. I'm volunteering at my children's school, participating in our community through the PTA and volunteering for local nonprofits. And I recently embarked upon a fitness journey to improve my health, something I hadn't scored myself low on but I knew I could improve.

At this time in my life I feel like I have achieved joy.

So I ask of you the same question: If you had to go through this exercise, how would you rate these slices of your pie chart? What would you put in the center of your life?