I Envy the Box Lady

green eyeI had a conversation this weekend that I must admit brought out great envy in me. Like if envy were people, I’d be China.

The green-eyed monster flared up when I was having a conversation with a woman I work with part-time. She was explaining to me how she had been working creatively…for hours and hours. Hours and hours, people. In the brief time that I’ve sat down to write this post, my son (home from school today because of the damn polar vortex) has interrupted me somewhere near 97 times.

Granted, she is retired (though very active), so her life tugs are understandably much different than mine. But she was explaining to me how she “needed something to do” with her time, and she ended up discovering this passion for designing beautiful boxes that are then used for care packages at the organization she and I are both part-timing at. [The place is called Phil’s Friends, and its mission is to bring hope to those affected by cancer. If you’ve got a hankering to do something with a few bucks and/or your time, go to their website and learn about the wonderful things they do.]

The work she does is lovely—fun and colorful, and just the right spirit to add to the loving care packages.

A sample of the Box Lady's work.
A sample of the Box Lady’s work.

She described to me how her kitchen table is splayed with boxes and she just gets lost in her work for hours at a stretch. I am amazed at the effort she puts into them. It is clearly her passion, and it brings her great joy.

I want to be like the Box Lady.

In my juggle-struggle world, I have forgotten what it is like to have time to fill. And if I do decide to wrap things up on any given night, about the most I can muster is watching TV and wiping the drool from my chin. Something tells me you might be able to relate.

I realize that the seasons of life offer different opportunities, but I could really use some focus time in this current season of my life. I want to have Box Lady experiences now.

I want to have a “snow” (aka “extreme cold”) day where instead of thinking of the HaveTos that need doing, I can immerse myself in an endeavor that brings me joy. Even if only for a little while.

And though I do make time to do things that are not just “on the list,” one of my biggest challenges is how I feel while doing them. For instance, as a writer, I do make time to write this blog. I could have more time for other HaveTos if I didn’t, but I need to write, so I do. But while I’m taking the time to do so, I keep battling all the other HaveTos that keep poking their way into my thoughts and making me feel like I need to stop. “Hurry up, Lisa. You are wasting your time. You need to get back to _____ and ____ and ____.”

I’d like to take that nasty little voice of harping and guilt and choke the life blood out of it. Yeah, I’d like five minutes alone in a room with that little voice. I’d really give her a what-for. Oh, wait. That voice is inside my head. All. The. Time.

I need to find a way to create Box Lady experiences without that little voice squelching the good that comes from it. Now.

My soul needs it. It craves it.

The clock is ticking.

“Someday” isn’t good enough—because there is no “someday” guarantee. There is only today. (As cold and claustrophobic as this one might be.)

There is only today.

Seuss Today quote

I’d Like a Big Hug with a Side of Fries

A couple weeks ago my Frabjous Friday post offered up a sweet hug, and today’s post highlights a young man who is all about the hugs.

Enjoy a brief video of Tim Harris–a restaurateur who just happens to have Down Syndrome.  And a whole lotta heart.

[Email subscribers: please remember you will have to click through to my blog to view the clip.]

A Time Coma

Attributed to http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Alain_rHaving spent my freshmen year of college at a Big Ten campus where parties abounded, I had no need for a fake ID—there was always something going on somewhere. But sophomore year led me to living on campus in Chicago, where tons of wonderful establishments needed an ID for entry. On my first night out, though, I didn’t need one. Here’s why.

My new co-ed friends told me there was this “must go” all-ages party at a bar called Frankie’s—no ID needed—so…come on! And I did. But when we got there, sure enough there was a bouncer at the front door. Some of my new friends were 21, and the rest had IDs that said they were…I was the only thing in the way of all of us having a good time. Well, hell, I wasn’t going to let that stop us! So I walked up to the bouncer and handed him my driver’s license that showed I was 19.

I had no idea how I was going to play it.

He looked at it. Then he looked at me. Then he looked back down at it again. Finally, he raised his head, squinted, and said, “Uh…this says you’re only 19.”

“I know,” I replied. “…I was in a coma.”

Now, I don’t know where this came from, but out my mouth it flew. Like somehow time doesn’t count on your license if you’re unconscious?? This made no sense. If this wasn’t a sure way to get pointed to the curb, I don’t know what was. Apparently, though, my cocksure way of saying it threw the bouncer, and he looked at me and almost challenged me with his next words of wisdom. “Oh, yeah? For how long?” he asked, studying me.

What? Was there still a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel?? “I don’t know,” I said with irritation. “I was in a coma…”

My friends were off to the side watching in quiet amazement wondering what could possibly be the next round in this goofy volley of words.

I’m not sure what was going through this guy’s head—confusion, bad math, or what—but he gave me one more intense look and said, “Well, okay, but…just this once.” And…he let me through. My friends and I went on our merry way to have some serious fun, and the story lived on as legend.

After that experience, I realized I needed an ID if I wanted to continue going out. After all, how many times is the “I was in a coma” line going to work?!

[Side note: kids if you’re reading this, please know that a fake ID is not a good choice to make. It’s kind of actually illegal. There’s plenty of fun for you to have in other ways. (And they make driver’s licenses way too hard to alter these days!)]

But this story is not about my fake ID. (Maybe that’s for another time?)

Indulge me for a moment as I touch on something metaphorically here—and pardon me if I go Existentialist for a few. In thinking about this story, it made me think how we can sometimes let ourselves slip into a time coma.

clockTime flies…in epochs, really. Perhaps it is because I am getting older and life is posing so many different kinds of challenges that I feel that the swirl of life is becoming a black hole.

Chunks of time just go…and I look back and think what am I doing? Where did the lost time go? Where is life taking me? How do I wake up and slow things down so that life doesn’t get sucked back into that damn black hole?

Okay. So maybe that’s a bit of a heady extrapolation to take from my silly story. Maybe I should have just kept it at sharing the tale and hoping you got a kick out of it.

But if you ever feel like the swirl of life is really more like a vortex, I hope it helps you to know you are not alone. Let’s be time coma survivors together.

Meet Mr. Google

I love reference librarians. From the time I was a kid, I would go up to the reference desk of my local library, ask a question…and get an answer. How awesome is that? Sometimes the answer was, “Let’s go see if it’s in such-and-such book,” but there was always the thirst for knowledge and the desire to help.

As a teacher, I tried to communicate to my students that being smart didn’t necessarily mean you had all the answers, but that you knew how to find them.

And then along came Google.

Google is like a reference librarian on giNORmous steroids.

If you know me, you know that I might have a teensy issue with whipping out my smartphone and Googling something that I am wondering about. I get taken to task for it…until someone else wants to know the answer to something. Then Mr. Google is cool.

And what if there really was a Mr. Google?

It might look something like this:

Poor guy. So many crazy searches to deal with.

And what exactly happens to all that “stuff” floating out there? What if Mr. Google was really…Big Brother? …watching you?

Maybe you should Google that.

[Email subscribers: please remember you will have to click through to my blog to view the clip.]

Hitting the ‘Like’ Button on Ourselves

like 1Recently I joined a conversation between two women that had an all-too-familiar topic. The one woman was probably in her early 60s and the other in her 30s. Both were beautiful women, but the older one was sharing what she would have “done” if she could. She then proceeded to mention a couple areas of her body she disliked.

The topic morphed into what we would change if money or risk were no option. Sadly, we all had lists.

Why do we think this way about ourselves?

My ‘dislike’ list for myself is easy to answer and not lacking in numbers. It includes my nose, my thick thighs (well, it used to be just the thighs…now the thickness is less picky and more all-encompassing), my chubby thumbs, and much more.

And that’s just the list for physical attributes. There’s so much more to include if we want to go beyond looks.

Now ask me for the ‘like’ list, and…wait. For a while. Hmmm.

Why is it so easy to be critical and so hard to be loving to ourselves? Why is it that the bad wins big in our world of self-assessment?

Damned if I know.

What I do know is that it’s no good. It’s no good in a world that is already far too critical to add to the negative with a long list of personal dislikes.

We need to hit the ‘like’ button on ourselves.

Have you ever talked to a person who has shared a dislike about themselves that you don’t even notice? Or maybe you do see it but think it’s a beautiful part of who they are? And then you share that with them and you can tell that they don’t believe you?

We are too hard on ourselves.

And it doesn’t work in our favor, either. I may think that being tough on myself results in higher standards or creativity or productivity—or whatever. But the truth of the matter is it just adds to the failure pile.

It doesn’t add to our worth. In fact, it gives our sense of worth a kick in the ass.

the culprit
the culprit

Take something as silly as thumbs. My thumbs are short and chubby—just like my mom’s. I’ve had people call them club thumbs, toe thumbs, little fat thumbs, even penis thumbs (lovely)…I have been teased since I was a kid about those damn thumbs. They are indeed different. And all my life, I’ve looked at people with long, slender thumbs and envied them. What? That’s right—I have thumb envy.

Really? Is that a shortcoming (pun intended) that I actually need to feel shame about? Intellectually I know the answer is absolutely not. Emotionally…damn, I wish I had thumbs that could bend a full ninety degree angle.

As I have said here before, I often write on things that I need to hear, and today is certainly a day for that. I must admit that I need to hit the personal ‘like’ button more.

My husband will tell you that I am not great at accepting criticism from others, and that is true. Sometimes I think it’s because I’ve already given myself such a heavy dose of it that I am not willing to gladly accept any more, leaving me fairly defensive. Maybe it’s easier to battle back when it’s someone else doing the talking rather than my own head’s self-talk. Whatever the case, the irony is not lost on me.

Obviously, I don’t have any easy answers to offer here. I struggle with being hard on myself just like so many others do. But I do know I want to change that—that I need to change that. And I hope if you are someone who is reading this and thinking, “me, too!” that you will push yourself to snuggle up and love yourself no matter what. No matter what.

Now, that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t strive to better ourselves in healthy ways—because we are all works in progress that can grow to be better throughout our lives. But when it comes to loving ourselves at the core, we should remember a key factor to begin with: God made us…and he loves us—and that ought to be a great place to start in accepting those chubby thumbs just as they are.

The World Needs More Hugs

This Frabjous Friday post is simple, short, and sweet. It’s a kitten video. You don’t like kitten videos? You can go suck it. Oops. Sorry. That seems rather counter to the Frabjous Friday spirit I aim to cultivate. How about “you can go and inhale quickly and deeply” (especially if you’re in Colorado)?

At any rate, this little video lifted my spirits, and I hope it does the same for you.

I, for one, could sure use more hugs like this:

How about you?

Thanks to my niece Monica for sharing this video on Facebook yesterday! What a viral world we live in!

[Email subscribers: please remember you will have to click through to my blog to view the clip.]