"As I Schlep Traveling"

A five day trip has a certain familiar arc to its story.

In the first few moments of the journey, you start out nervous and fearful, worried you left something behind, and no longer sure that this trip was really the right thing to do. You hope it will all go well, because at least in the beginning, you feel pretty powerless. You’re not even wearing shoes. You put your trust in the uniformed people around you who seem to know what they’re doing.

Then: arrival! The big city! The world! So much to do and you just want to take it all in! The first day or two is filled with energy, with the belief that it really is possible to do anything, absolutely anything. There is excitement, there is optimism, there is very little sleep.

Next, you start to prioritize. What do you really want to do? You map out a path. You realize that while there’s plenty you would like to do, there are some things that really are more important than others. And then, of course, plenty of unexpected delights and frustrations that also fill those middle days.

(Little Pixie Magic Photography)

Suddenly you realize: time is running out! A desperation returns, whereupon you just can’t seem to get enough done in the twilight of the trip. You want to cram everything in: as much as possible, as quickly as possible. You want to try to squeeze in one more show, create one more memory, eat one more fantastic meal.

But then, reality sets in. You’re saying your goodbyes. You’re thinking about what you can take with you and what you’ll just leave behind. You’re figuring out, as best you can, the path back to where you came from, and you’re asking yourself, am I making this as easy as possible for everyone around me?

And now, at the end of the trip, sitting in the back of a cab flying towards the airport at approximately the speed of sounds, I have several reasons to pray. Once I’ve finished the quick prayer (the one about the cabbie having a lovely family he plans to return home to tonight, rather than a death wish and the urge to go out in a blaze of glory), I settle into the longer one. The grateful one.

I realize that I have reached that zen point of the trip, where I am no longer rushing around trying to check a few more things off-the to-do list. Instead, I am calm. I have accepted that this trip is over. I am glad for the experience I had, and at peace with what we could not fit in this time around. I took a few snapshots and jotted down some words that will hopefully keep the memorable moments of this trip alive and shareable for years to come.

See, if all goes well, you've enjoyed the journey - but you're ready to go home.

Hallelujah, I’m a-comin’ home.

Quotes, Part I

As predicted... some funny theater-people quotes have started peppering the journey....

Butch Bronx: (starts reading the plane’s safety pamphlet)

Harry Astoria: I’ve read that. It doesn’t end well.

Sabrina Queens: It's funny because when you were talking about angry birds. I was thinking, looking at my  car, man, I must've driven under one the other day…

Me: My new bangs make me look like I have a moon face!
Buster Manhattan: So what's wrong with having a moon face?

Airline clerk: Wakka wakka hump the bins!
Me: Did she just “say hump the bins”?
Harry Astoria: Yes. Standard practice in Baltimore. 

Sabrina Queens: Anyone want to play in an illegal underground poker game? I can call my aunt. She's a dealer.

KC: Take a picture of the chopped liver! Put up a photo with the caption “What Am I?!”!!!

Traveling With Theater People

Okay, I will be giving an honest shot to the daily posting schedule outlined recently -- but since this week I'm on vacay for five days, the blog focus will be travel adventures. I'm traveling with theater folks, so you know there will be some amusing anecdotes.

Because I try to keep the friends and family I write about (at least somewhat) anonymous, before launching into all of the amusing stories of five days in the big city with a troupe of theater folks, I figured they should have pseudonyms. Since they’re all clever, and probably funnier than I am, I tasked them all with coming up with their pseudonyms. We collectively decided that childhood-pet-name followed by favorite-borough-or-neighborhood-in-New-York was a good system.

So ladies and gentleman, meet our cast!

• ·        Kitty Coney (going by KC for short) – the token “director” in the group; always up for snark; married to Buster Manhattan.
• ·         Buster Manhattan – actor and film expert; likely to surprise you with quiet hilarious commentary; married to KC.
• ·         Sabrina Queens – New York native, displaced for many years now; lawyer, competitive shopper, very crazy family.*
• ·         Butch Bronx – hails from the same birthplace as Elvis; funny and unassuming actor who channels Mike Nichols.
• ·         Harry Astoria, typically referred to here as D. He wanted at first to go with “Harry Meatpacking District.” I talked him out of it.

And then there’s me. I guess I’d be Stormy Broadway. (Hot!) But I probably don’t need an additional pseudonym. So now, you’ve met the cast. Here’s to the adventures ahead! 

*Seriously, SQ’s crazy family will be a recurring theme.

Show Me The Funny

Oh, no. Oh, hell!

I just figured something out: I’m not that funny.

Or rather, I’m not as funny as some of my writing might lead you to believe. The truth is, as I am swiftly realizing, I’m not constantly hilarious. But I pay attention. I am an obsessive people-watcher, a good listener, and an excellent conversational pick-pocket. And that’s where a lot of the funny really comes from: other people.

Me, I’m about as funny as your average court stenographer.* I’m just lucky enough to live in a courtroom packed full of wonderful lunatics, all making their cases, screaming their objections, introducing new evidence, sharing arguments, trying to win over skeptical juries of their peers, judging, being judged, hoping to be found innocent, all part of a glorious madcap trial. Drama! Reprieve! Condemnation! Expert witnesses!

“My life is a courtroom packed full of wonderful lunatics.” Yep. Pretty sure that’s the best one-sentence-summary of my life that I’ll ever craft.

I’m realizing this because I’m currently vacationing with a half dozen theater people.** As you can imagine, this leads to some hilarity. Which I am documenting. And will share with you.

Because while I may not be all that funny, I am nothing if not generous. ;-)

*No offense to court stenographers. I’m sure they’re a riot.

** I know. I’m stereotyping theater people. Hey, so are you. And I AM a theater person, so it’s cool.

Monday Runday!

Ironically, today is the first day in my "Monday Runday" weekly posting schedule, and it's also the first day in a week that I have not run.

The good news is, I've been running! In fact, tomorrow I'll be on Week 2, Run 2 of the Couch to 5k training program. I went through that program about two years ago, running my first 5k in January 2010. I kept up the running pretty well until October of 2010. Then I was in a massive car wreck and stopped running.

Note: not my actual running attire. Usually.

Once I was done with physical therapy, I started sporadically running here and there, along with doing yoga, 30 Day Shred, finding ways to be active. I never got back up to a 5k, but was keeping pretty fit. Then, when my work schedule got all cray-cray several months back, exercise got pushed aside. And I've put on some weight - not drastic weight gain, but enough that I can't fit in to all my clothes, enough that I feel lethargic, enough that I'm not happy about it.

So I'm running again, and I like the structure of Cto5k. I'm not starting from absolute zero like I was two years ago, and thus I'm aiming to get through a week and a half to two weeks per week (i.e. each week in the program has three runs; I'm aiming to do between 4 and 6 runs every week). It's interval training, gradually getting me back up to a 5k.

And of course, the only thing I need more than structure is a deadline. So I signed up for the St. Patty's Day 5k, meaning I need to be ready to run the distance in March.

That's the background story. On future Monday Rundays, I'll share running observations, frustrations, and hopefully, exultation.

Also, I'll run.

100 Books in 2012

I'm determined to continue to read more. Since I do well with goals and lists (see last post), I decided to set a goal and keep a list (natch). And while it might be inconvenient... clearly, that's no excuse.

Here's the goal: READ 100 BOOKS IN 2012.

Here's the deal: I will periodically post an updated list (keeping a running tally here). That list will help me generate content for my designated Books-and-Movies posting day.

I already have a stack of must-reads on my shelf, BUT am always happy to expand the list, so if you have any YOU. MUST. READ. THIS. recommendations, please send them my way! By the way, I am counting plays, graphic novels, and any other equivalent works as books, because, they too are literature - and I really need to be reading more plays. Theater people, please factor that in if you have recommendations to share on the script-side!

I am off to a solid start, but that's largely thanks to a quiet, peaceful New Year's weekend wherein I finished several of the books I started in December. (They totally count for the 2012 list). Already up to five books. Succinct reviews below - and the tally begins!

"Bossypants" by Tina Fey. This was a birthday gift from my awesome parents. If you haven't already read this book, RUN! DON'T WALK! And do not drink milk while reading! Seriously, one of the funniest books I've ever read. A gem on every page, from keen observations ("there are never fewer than eight Tracy Ullman characters in any New York nail salon at any given time") to beauty confessions ("left unchecked, (my eyebrows) will grow straight across my face and onto yours"). But mostly, "Bossypants" is a hilarious here's-how-I-got-here memoir about Tina Fey's unconventional career in entertainment. It is both inspiring, and might make you pee a little.

"Neverwhere" by Neil Gaiman. I started amping up my Gaiman reading last year. What took me so long? I'll never know. But with "American Gods" and "Anansi Boys" recently completed, I shifted to early Gaiman. "Neverwhere" was delightful. I loved the world he built, how much seemed fantastic and yet how much familiar. One of his earliest works, it made me have a little more fear AND a little more faith in storytelling. (Fear of ever being worthy as a storyteller in a world where he exists. Faith that there are readers who want that sort of story.) Wicked, fun, engaging, magical. You know. Gaiman.

"My Life As An Experiment" by A.J. Jacobs. I loved A. J. Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically, so I was excited to read the quirky human petri dish's next installment of lifestyle experimentation. It didn't disappoint. Laugh out loud funny and occasionally poignant, A.J.'s willingness to put himself through everything from Radical Honesty to outsourcing his entire life to unitasking is incredible. My favorite chapter was the one where he catered to his wife's every whim for a month. I mentioned that to D. I don't think he got the hint.

"Southern Gothic Novel" by Frank Blocker. Frank Blocker is a New York based actor, director, and playwright. I was lucky enough to see his fantastic one man show "Southern Gothic Novel" this month, and also privileged to read the script. A tongue-in-cheek yet loving homage to the melodramatic genre of the Southern Gothic novel, this nonstop script is truly a tour de force when all the kooky characters are brought to life by one hell of a committed actor.

"Y: The Last Man" (Book One) by Brian K. Vaughan, Pia Guerra, and Jose Marzan, Jr. I grew up reading comic books (X-Men nerd - hard core) and lately I'm rediscovering my love of the graphic novel. I read Joe Hill's "Locke & Key" (Book One) towards the end of 2011 - and yes, the subsequent books will likely appear on this list. I just read "Y: The Last Man" which I'd thumbed through before but never sat down to read. Fast-paced, funny, and excellent storytelling. I also love how reminiscent the art is of my favorite comics as a child, interspersing realistic, intense-detail paintings of the scenes at the top of every chapter in addition to the panel art throughout. Can't wait to continue the Y journey.




Current Tally: 100 Books in 2012
1. "Bossypants" by Tina Fey
2. "Neverwhere" by Neil Gaiman
3. "My Life As An Experiment" by A.J. Jacobs
4. "Southern Gothic Novel" by Frank Blocker
5. "Y: The Last Man" by Brian K. Vaughan, Pia Guerra, and Jose Marzan, Jr.

Daily Writing Regimen

I am a list person. Having a list makes me feel like I have a plan, like expectations are clearer, like I know I can get tasks accomplished because I've laid out exactly what those tasks are. Being able to check things off a list makes me feel good. (To the point that every now and then I'll actually write "make a list" as one of the items on my to-do list, just so as soon as I've finished the list, I can immediately check off something. I know.)

It's a weird contradiction: I am an organized artist. I need to allocate time. I need goals and deadlines. I love assignments that have a little bit of structure to them - three characters, a slap, under 10 pages, go! - while leaving plenty of room for creativity.

So in looking back at my past eight months of blogging, it's unsurprising that my most successful posting periods were when I had a theme. A structure. Week in a bridesmaid dress, week without restaurants, anything with some parameters.

Why haven't I come up with an overall blog-structure?

Excellent question.

Confession: I sometimes still consider pulling the plug on this blog. While it's a tool, helping me write more frequently, it's also a crutch. If I write a blog post, I feel like it's more okay that I didn't finish another chapter of the book or complete another scene in the script. So that's part of why I haven't established a set structure for this blog. One-off opportunities like the dress stunt, fine, but anything more holistic - not worth the investment.

But maybe I've been looking at it all wrong. Having structure or some sort of posting schedule often helps me move through tasks more quickly. Maybe if I have a pattern to the blog, I won't spend so much time hemming and hawing, I'll just knock out a post as a warm-up exercise, then hit my stride and keep running with my longer writing endeavors.

So I'm going to try an experiment, at least for the next month, and follow a daily writing regimen here on this blog, and most importantly, as noted above, use it as my warm-up writing exercise. So here's the schedule:

• Monday: Monday Runday! In addition to my writing regimen, I've reinstated a running regimen in my life. On Mondays, I'll post my running updates. Expect a lot of kvetching in these posts. (Just kidding. Sort of.)
• Tuesday: Cooking Adventures. This will help guarantee I make something worth photographing and sharing, recipe-wise, at least once a week. So self serving! No pun intended! 
• Wednesday: What Else Am I Writing? Whether it's cheers or frustrations, I'll share what else I'm writing. Because I am, and will be, working on other projects. 
• Thursday: Books & Movies. I'm reading religiously, which is excellent - but goodness knows I also still watch p-l-e-n-t-y of movies and TV shows (mostly on Netflix and DVD, meaning I'm years behind - positive spin: spoilers are few and far between!). Might as well share what I love, and give fair warning for the crap out there that will rob you of precious hours you can never get back.
• Friday: Pixie Perspective OR Someone Awesome. I'll either share some deep thoughts, social snark, or other observation... OR, I'll profile someone awesome. Because trust me, I know a lot of awesome people.
• Weekend: We'll see... Yep. Wild card. And, y'know, sometimes a day off.

We'll see how this goes - and of course, as always, I am most definitely interested in hearing your thoughts and feedback! :)

Bread Pudding, Bourbon & Beyond

Last night, I was lucky enough to get to attend the first-ever Eat Jackson Bread Pudding Throwdown. Upon arrival, we were all given our Official Judge aprons, and a voting card... there were 16 (yes! 16!) bread puddings vying for supremacy... and by God, I was going to taste every single one of them.

I was also going to then provide a clever write-up today, and offer proof that I did, in fact, eat all sixteen bread puddings, ensuring that I could subsequently cast the most informed vote of my life. However, there is no need for me to prove myself in writing. Because, well... the local news showed up and did a segment on the event. And I appear in the :30 spot about three times. Stuffing my face each time.




(Yeah, I'm the girl in the brown sweater. In the opening frame, enjoying some bread pudding; closer up, in the next shot, being served bread pudding and then laughing; and then again at the end... eating more bread pudding. Could be worse, I suppose. If they'd snuck up on me while I was participating in the bourbon sampling, that might've looked even more incriminating.)

With Special Guest Blogger, Google Voice!

There are several topics I want to write about in the coming days. These topics include:
1) Starting a running routine again
2) Books
3) Restructuring this blog
4) Why I Need To Break Up With Groupon
5) Bread Pudding, Bourbon & Beyond

However, tonight, I'm happy to welcome a new guest blogger, Google Voice, AKA G-Voice!

By way of introduction: G-Voice is an awesome and dedicated buddy. One of its most awesome features is the voicemail transcription service. That's right - for those of you who are unfamiliar with G-Voice, if you miss a call, not only does the caller go to voicemail BUT ALSO G-Voice transcribes the call and displays it as a text.

So. Cool!

However, at this point I'm pretty sure that G-Voice's first language is not English. Either that, or I have really mumble-y friends. Because lately, my voicemail transcriptions have been... well... hilarious.

Take it away, G!

              

Ha! I still have no idea what any of this means, but I can say with confidence that G-Voice will likely be invited back to serve as a guest-blogger here again... also, TAKE THAT, Damn You Auto-Correct! G-Voice is gonna give you a run for your money.

Also, This.

There are some people who make me happy just by showing up.

I love Tina Fey. And this instant-classic photo-bomb meme. And how it looks like in that very last moment, she's seductively smelling Amy Poehler's hair. <3

Dear Negativity Bias: Why Are You So MEAN? Love, Beth

You're awesome! 
You rocked that presentation.
I was disappointed in your performance.
I love your idea! 
You really inspired me.

Want to hear something awful? The one critical comment in the statements above trumps the power of all four positive affirmations, combined. Thanks to the way our own minds work, our default setting is to latch on to the negative. It's a phenomenon known as negativity bias, and it's a mean little way that we automatically process information and give more weight to the negative.

In other words, even when the scoreboard says Team Positive is winning - four to one! clear victory! - well, those cheerleaders over on the Negative end of the playing field are jumping up and down, hooting and hollering, waving their little pom-poms, and claiming the game, 'cause they know the real score.

Deadly Beasts - Okay, So Yeah... Those Were Bad
Negativity bias probably helped us to survive, at some point. After all, if four out of five signs pointed to there NOT being a deadly beast about to devour us, and one sign pointed to there BEING a deadly beast about to devour us... well, better safe than sorry. Smart survival instinct probably steered us to err on the side of caution, give more credence to the negative, and get the hell out of there before becoming delicious, delicious optimist-a-la-carte.

5 to 1 = Fair Fight
In the modern world, with fewer lurking hungry beasts and more metaphorical beasties (I'm looking at you, Twitter-bird!), negativity bias can cause a lot of trouble. Study after study shows that when it comes to how we prioritize information, bad is stronger than good. In fact, it takes an estimated five compliments to "equal out" one insult (which is why since I only gave four compliments in the opening to this piece, the one negative comment had the most power).

The studies that yielded these insights often focused on behavior modification, often using married couples as test subjects. The couples who had a 5:1 or better ratio of compliments vs. criticisms tended to stay together; those 4:1 or lower tended to separate. The bad overpowered the good, thus driving a wedge between people.


Um. Your Bias Is Showing, And It's Kind of A Downer
We do it all the time. We linger on the hurtful. We prioritize put-downs over praise. We do it to ourselves, internalizing negative messages while discarding positive ones all too quickly. We judge too harshly.

When we get an essay back, our eyes are drawn not to all the unharmed text, but the bleeding red circles where we messed up. Three people complimenting our haircut makes us feel confident that we're stylin', but if one person tells us they hate it, we assume they're the one telling us the truth. After all, the emperor really was naked, right? Critics are the ones we can trust. Everyone else is probably "just being nice." Right?

RIGHT! - says negativity bias. (Even when the correct answer is 'wrong.')

Friends & Strangers: Equal Opportunity Condemnation
So we prioritize the bad, and let it determine how we feel about ourselves - and we do the same thing to other people, too. In fact, a study conducted by researchers at Ohio State University found that when presented with two pieces of information about someone we have never met - one positive, and one negative - we are predisposed to categorize that person as bad. Not neutral, not good, but bad. We assume they are the modern deadly beast, more likely to harm us than to help us.

We don't just leap to judgment when it comes to strangers. We also do it to people we know. Even after years of considering someone educated or open-minded, one misstep opens the floodgates: are they not as smart as I thought they were? Is he secretly a racist? Can I trust her after this?

Years of positive perception are called into question when something negative surfaces. We are quick to judge, and slow to forgive. We let negativity bias color or view of others. You think we'd know better; we certainly don't want our own integrity, intelligence or compassion eroded by a gaffe, miscalculation, poorly-worded joke. We want to be given the benefit of the doubt. But it's not how we're wired.

It takes effort to get the ball back in to the hands of Team Positive.

The Big Idea: Point The Finger At Negativity Bias Before Giving The Finger To An Overall-Swell Person (Yourself Included)
So all that to say ... ladies and germs, this is something we should really think about. Before we put ourselves through the ringer over someone's judgment of us, or before slapping a judgment label on someone else, we should stop and think. Is this my caveman-brain taking over? Can I maybe be a teensy bit more reasonable, instead of peeing myself* because I leap to the assumption that there's a deadly beast hiding in my sofa cushion?  

Such questions might help us work a little harder to extend the same benefit of the doubt that we crave for ourselves to our friends, to our family, and yes, to that new kid on the block you've been hearing all the gossip about.

By the way -- this is not to imply that we shouldn't correct someone when they're wrong, or brush off negative acts, or ignore an ignorant statement. NOR is it to say that when we're the ones getting criticized instead of doling it out, we should just say, um, I'm awesome, that person is just swept up in a wave of negativity bias and I AM going to keep wearing these Hammer pants, dammit.

Criticism can be helpful. Don't write it all off. Hey, the emperor WAS naked! We all make mistakes!

The big idea here is to get through those critical exchanges and then move on. Be more compassionate, and aware of our judgement-prone selves. In all non-deadly-beast-level situations, let's make the conscious decision to allow those four wonderful positives to clap and jump and cheer louder and more powerfully than those mean cheerleaders over at Team Negative, wailing about that one sad negative-point.


* Worst. Defense Mechanism. EVER.

They Say Everyone's Got a Doggelganger

Very cool website promoting pet adoption in Australia: you can go to the "Doggelganger" website, upload a photo of yourself, and facial recognition software allegedly matches you with your doggy counterpart. (I say allegedly because I think it's just a gimmick, no actual recognition - I tried a few times and got totally different results - but it's definitely endearing, regardless).

Here's my final result:

Wonder if there are American shelter / pet adoption sites utilizing this trick...?

Portrait of a Woman

Proud to be included in Katrina Byrd's promotional poster for her new show, Portrait of a Woman. Best of luck, KB, as you prepare for this event.

Happy Beginning

Remember a couple weeks ago, when I wrote about fostering? There was one of our foster babies who had yet to find her forever home, and who had to move to another foster location because she just couldn't stop throwing up? She stole our hearts and broke them, and in the post, I mentioned that she was still available for adoption, sturdier and less prone to nausea, and just as sweet as ever.

Well, a friend who fell for Zinnia while we were fostering her saw the post, and it re-opened a conversation. When first he met her, marriage and moving and all sorts of transitions were going on in his life, and it wasn't the time to take on a dog. But he hadn't forgotten her. So he talked to his wife. And they called Pippa at ARF.

And today, Zinnia went home with them.

Can't even write about it without crying. I love that little girl, and couldn't be happier that she now has a forever home. No more question marks for Zin. This isn't a happy ending. It's the happiest of beginnings, for a dog who deserved so much better than the horrible hand she was dealt as a puppy; now, thanks to Animal Rescue Fund of Mississippi and her new adoptive family, she's finally got her full house. <3

Little Piggy Magic

It's time for me to Chicken-and-Pig my priorities.

See, I've been thinking a lot about one of my favorite metaphors, which happens to be a breakfast metaphor - and as we all know, breakfast metaphors are the most important metaphors of the day! Anyway, in case you've never heard the saying, it goes something like this: "In an eggs 'n' bacon breakfast situation, the chicken is involved, but the pig is committed."

(Well, in my case, I'm requiring the commitment of some soybeans or maybe a turkey, not of a pig, but for most people bacon = pig. And the pig visual is better.)

I tend to take on a lot. I mean, A LOT. I have a hard time saying no, and there's so much that excites me. So I wind up taking on too many commitments. I don't just go to the event, I help coordinate it. In other words, I am a little piggy. (Or turkey. Soy bean. Whatever.)

So, yeahhhhhhhhh. There are definitely some areas of my life where I need to shift from oink to cluck. Other areas, I might need to skip breakfast entirely. Or I guess, to honor the structure of the metaphor, I need to become the part of breakfast that doesn't always make the plate - the grapefruit, maybe?

Food for thought, anyway.

Heh. ;-)

It's Harder if the World Doesn't End

Preface: I've deemed 2012 the "year of inconvenience." Other folks (allegedly the Mayans, but I think maybe they were framed) have deemed it the "year of the end of the world." Talk about inconvenient! OR - maybe doomsday is the most convenient excuse of all time. One of the most passionate essays I ever wrote addressed the topic of the world ending... and I posted it only on Facebook, never on any public blog. So I thought it might be appropriate to go ahead and share it here. Original publication date: Wednesday, May 18, 2011.

Comes in Size 42.

It's Harder if the World 

Doesn't End

Surely, you've all heard by now of Harold Camping’s prediction that the rapture will take place on May 21, 2011, followed by the complete destruction of life, the universe, and everything on October 21, 2011. Camping is doing everything he can to get the word out: his extensive radio broadcast reach, buses painted with brightly-colored paint proclaiming the infamous date, billboards in major American cities.

Despite how seriously he and his followers take this thing, I’ve mostly noted the the humorous reactions surrounding this prophecy. Even Baptist preacher friends are cracking jokes about this alleged doomsday.

I'm sure there are some folks taking it seriously, and I know for a fact that some of my loved ones do believe in some form of an end-of-days scenario. But this "prophecy" is being taken pretty lightly, even down here in the Deep South. In fact, the funniest thing thus far to emerge from this whole story in my own life, is that not one, not two, but THREE of my friends who are ordained Christian ministers have posted the widely-circulated Facebook event invitation to the “Post-Rapture Looting Event," along with some tongue-in-cheek commentary. Now that's comedy! 

But in all seriousness, this end-of-days buzz has led to some deep thinking for me. I did find it very unsettling to see billboards all over New Orleans last month announcing the imminent end. First, I went through all the predictable thoughts about the world actually ending: what I would do if time was running out? Would it be possible to criss-cross the globe and see all my far-flung loved ones in such a short amount of time? What would I eat for my final meal? (Verdict: sushi, and fried potatoes, and my mom’s quiche AND her mac 'n' cheese because carbs are gettin’ left behind, an avocado, some really high quality cheese accompanied by Pinot Noir, followed by sparkling water to cleanse my pallet, and then, a dirty martini, and – uh oh. That's gluttony, isn't ot? That may not bode well for me this weekend.)

But then, instead of thinking in terms of fearing the end of everything, I started thinking about another kind of fear: the fear of responsibility. The fear of participating in the ongoing work of moving towards something better. The fear of having to keep the faith, including with our fellow man.

The fear, in other words, of the world not ending.

When you stop to think about it, pushing a world-ending agenda is the ultimate cop-out. Because it’s easier to throw up your hands and say “World’s ending! Nothing I can do!” than it is to look around and realize, “The world needs me! I have so much work to do!”

It’s easier to point at the recent storms that ravaged the South, at the earthquakes in Japan and Haiti, AIDS in Africa, Hurricane Katrina, September 11, and say “See! Evidence! End of Days EVIDENCE! We’re all going soon!”

It’s much harder to look at the same things and begin to compile, quietly and faithfully, the list of things we need to address: helping our neighbors rebuild their homes, keeping all people as safe as we can, ensuring more equal health care and disease prevention education, building bridges between cultures, stamping out the flames of hatred. That kind of stuff takes some serious effort. 

 “God helps those who help themselves” was an important principle in my family, but it was only a partial philosophy. It barely scratched the surface. Through example (and heritage! and text! I’m not deriding such things!), my parents emphasized that God expects us to help others. That helping others is, in fact, how we help God; how we become partners in creation; how we are able to see the spark of the divine in our fellow man.

And to quote the vernacular, that [poop] is hard, yo!

If the world doesn’t end this weekend, that means neither do our obligations. And I don’t just mean our student loan payments and mortgages and work deadlines. I mean our obligation to be good people. To do our part to heal this aching world. To experience apocalaypse not in terms of the translation "end of all," but in the literal Greek meaning: "lifting of the veil." Looking square on at all of the work to be done, rolling up our sleeves and doing it. I mean the work of striving every day, to be our best selves  – whether we call that doing God’s work, or being Christ-like, or following Buddha, or honoring our parents...

But it's sooooo much easier to just ignore all that! Even when that means ignoring your own pesky beliefs! See, Harold Camping is a Christian. He bases his calculation of the May 21 rapture-date from clues he gleaned from the Bible – the same book wherein he should find, regarding the end of days “...of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not even the angels of heaven, but my Father only” (Matthew 24:36, KJV).  I’m not saying I’m against Biblical interpretation; I’m saying I find it odd that Camping would be more confident in his own specific calculation about the end of days, rather than confident in what his very own holy text has to say about attempting such a calculation. Reeks a bit of shifting from the idea of “man created in God’s image” on over to “God created in man’s image,” no?

Clearly, I’m not in the Camping … camp, so to speak. The world may end, but I don’t think it will happen on Saturday. After all, what kind of God would end the world on the weekend? On the Sabbath, no less? Surely, if the world is to be wiped out, God in His infinite mercy would end it on a Monday. 

But seriously, folks. I do believe every day matters, and should not be taken for granted. You never know when you might get hit by a semi-truck (or two). I also believe we are called to do good, and err on the side of love, and not to pray for destruction and harbor hate. Why do I believe this so strongly? Well, as I told a dear friend the other night, I cannot imagine reaching Heaven and being greeted with: “Well, Beth, glad to have you here, congrats on getting in, but to be honest – while you were on earth, you didn’t judge folks nearly enough. You were too loving. We went over all your paperwork, and you really should have held on to a lot more hate. Persecuted at least a few people. What were you thinking?” 

I take comfort in believing that God is not as petty as those who fling His name around to serve their own agendas. I cannot pretend to know, with any certainty, anything about ultimate plans and destinies - but I don't think anyone else knows, either.I don’t know of any of my friends who actuallydo think Harold Camping has it right, but I also know that not all of you will necessarily agree with every sentiment I just expressed. With all due respect and love, I decided not to let that stop me from sharing my thoughts, because life’s too short to bite our tongues when we have something important to say.

I mean, for goodness’ sake, haven’t you heard? The world may be ending this Saturday.

Love and blessings

Beth

Follow-up: The world didn't end that Saturday. Or on October 21.

A Boring Blog. But a Blog.

I've been honoring my inconvenient commitments, despite their obvious... obstacle-ness.

I wrote six letters. Two to friends in hospitals, four belated thank you letters for holiday gifts. Of course, then I couldn't find stamps. But I found them tonight, and all letters will be in the mail tomorrow morning! Writing is actually kind of a pain, at the moment, thanks to the ol' wrist. Typing is easier. BUT, I felt so satisfied in writing the letters, and picturing them appearing in people's mailboxes where too often, only bills await. Besides, soon, the post office dinosaur will officially become extinct and these will be lovely pieces of nostalgia.

Only ate out once in the past several days, and totally took tupperware along. Bonus to taking tupperware, in addition to helping the planet? When I opened my fridge the next day, clear tupperware allowed me to see, be tempted by, and decide to eat my leftovers THE NEXT DAY. White boxes too often lead to being overlooked 'til it's time to toss.

Been walking whenever it makes sense to do so (even in light rain - however, pouring rain and the prospect of giant grocery bags have sent me reaching for my car keys).  

Last night, I was struck with inspiration for the novella I'm working on... at about 1:30am... and instead of convincing myself I'd remember that brilliant insight in the morning (totally a lie told by my tired mind; I've lost more good ideas that way...), I got my ass out of bed, turned on the computer, and wrote for about an hour until I captured most of what I had on my mind. Then I collapsed back in to the bed, exhausted - but feeling like a damn WRITER!

And I'm also posting this quick, incredibly boring update just so I can say I blogged today, and made time for writing, despite every day this week being stacked with work. There is a light at the end of the work train tunnel, so I'm okay with the crazy workweek underway. I'm even about to go read the last chapter of the book I'm devouring. And who knows, maybe inspiration will drag me out of bed at some crazy hour.

Dear Writers: Read More.

Dear Writers,

Read more.

Read because you love stories. Read because that's what made you want to write in the first place. Read because you absolutely have to read. Read for inspiration. Wonderful books will inspire you to step up your game, and write something just as wonderful. Crappy books will inspire you to stop making excuses and just freakin' churn out some crap, because reading garbage will inevitably make you think if this shlock can get published, I can sure as hell get published!

Travel-friendly
book buddy!

Feeling too busy to read? Well, as Stephen King once said, if you're too busy to read, you're too busy to write. So make the time.

Read vs. Remote. Keep a book right next to your television remote. Or your Xbox controller. Whatever your timesuck might be. When you reach for the remote, and then see the option to read instead - let reading win out. We all know that video killed the radio star (and then YouTube devoured them all). So now, let's put books back in the arena and coach 'em to win back the heavyweight timesuck belt.

Read on the go. When waiting for your food to arrive, or while eating at your desk, or while sitting around at someplace awful like the DMV - wouldn't you rather be instantly transported to Oz? Always have a book in your purse or in your backpack or on your person. (This is even easier if you have a Kindle or some other fancy e-reader.) Remember when you were that nerdy bookworm kid who refused to get into a car without grabbing her current trusty book? I do, and I'm reviving her glorious bookwormy spirit.


Read in the bathtub. And remember to be thankful that the world isn't all Kindle yet.

Read before bed. Keep a bedside space for your book, and make it sacred book space, so there is ALWAYS a book there for you to grab. This book location is also handy for when you can't sleep, and much better for you than that midnight snack or The Real Housewives of a Gated Community Near You.

Remember, we must never choose between reading and writing. Make time for both. Each enriches the other. Getting lost in someone else's story is just as important as getting lost in your own. It helps you remember what you love so much about stories in the first place.

And after all, how can we expect anyone to read what we write, if we're not reading what other people are writing?

Love,
A Fellow Writer & Reborn Reader

PS Readers, keep reading, too! We love you and need you and want to make you happy. XOXO

You WON'T Re-Post This

You're probably not going to share this post with anyone. See, there are things that make people want to share a post, and this post has exactly NONE of those things. In fact, here is a Top Nine List* of reasons why NO ONE will want to share this:

"I am adorable." - Dov

9. It doesn't have the F-word sprinkled liberally throughout. No effin' way. Strongest cuss in this boring-ass post is "ass."

8. There are not tons of pictures of cute animals with hilarious misspelled captions. There is only one picture of a cute animal, with a perfectly-spelled caption.

7. There are no pictures of scantily-glad women. Just one goober with her dog.

6. Nothing in this post is a hoax. And you are not 95.

5. Nothing in this post was written on a post it / 8.5 x 11" lined sheet of paper / forehead / knuckles, then photographed.

4. There is no "Group Pride" to help generate buzz. This would definitely be shared if it provided a list of reasons you are proud to be a Southern Woman / Beer Drinking Man / Corgi Owner / Coffee Addict / Raised in a Wolf Pack.

3. It's not pithy and short. (But hey, this reason sure is!)

2. This post is neither passionately declaring my love for Twilight, NOR ripping it to shreds with equal passion.

1. It doesn't have any clever, elegant info-graphics. It just has this one totally lame, albeit accurate, pie chart:

And by the way... ASS!

*Naturally, this post cannot contain a Top Ten List, as social media addicts LOVE re-posting that sort of sh-- er, uh, stuff.

Unexpected Plot Wrist

So, I have this cyst in my wrist.

And I have to get it removed... at some point.

I repeat: Owwww!

I mean, it's a tumor. It's benign, but you still can't leave it there. It's all... lumpy. Not to mention kind of unattractive, in the way and thereby limiting my range of movement. But after seeing the surgeon today - I think I'm going to delay surgery.

Because while ugly, it's not life-threatening. It's not going away, but it's not a harbinger of anything terrible. It does need to be removed, ultimately - but in the meantime, it's not awful, day to day. It's just a lump on my wrist. Typing does make my wrist stiffen up pretty quickly (not good, for a writer), but my fancy new brace does make a difference. PLUS, I am totally rocking the wrist-brace look. Medical-joint-support is the new Michael-Jackson-one-glove. Owwww!

Okay. Put simply, and because I love lists, here's why I'm postponing the surgery:

• It could be a 2 to 3 week recovery period. Since I have a lot of writing to get done, AND a trip coming up, AND work... I don't want to possibly be sans-use of my right hand for 2 or 3 weeks right now. 
• I cover my own health insurance. No group health plans means higher health care costs. This procedure won't be cheap. Lumpy-wristed freelancer has kind of a ring to it, right? No? Hmm...
• Surgery. Ugh. The doctor drew on my wrist to show me where I'd get slit open. Disconcerting. 

So here's the real dilemma: I'm supposed to be embracing inconvenience. What's more inconvenient - a surgery that takes me out of commission for awhile, and costs me some fairly serious money? Or the daily discomfort of a stiff wrist?

For now, I'm living with the inconvenience of a stiff wrist. And rockin' the brace.

Fostering Love

Fostering shelter pets is inconvenient, in the best possible way. Since I'm currently embracing inconvenience, I figured, hey, now is as good a time as any to finally write about fostering. So here are the stories of all of my fosters. You should know, though, that these are more than foster stories. 
                                                                                                                                                              They are, all of them, love stories.

Pinto, The Pony!

Little Pinto with her
dashing new daddy

One hot summer day, three dogs ran out in front of my car. Two adults and a tiny puppy. I watched the adult dogs dash across the street, while the puppy lagged behind, nearly hit three times. I pulled over, put on my hazards, ran out into the street and scooped her up. Her mother came barreling up to me, barking; then looked at me as if to say, okay - take care of her! - before running off. I took the pup home, gave her a bath (the dirt! the fleas!), and introduced her to my husky Sofia. D took pictures of her and put them on his MySpace page.* 

Pinto & Tallulah
Big girls now!

She was cute. Really cute. I got several inquiries, and took her over to my top-pick family. They asked me how big I thought she'd get. I told them that the mother looked about 20 lbs, sort of beagle-ish. Perfect! They wanted a small dog! They named her Pinto. And she grew to be the size of a horse. (Oops.) Miraculous coda: soon after they adopted Pinto, her new family found something in the bushes: another identical puppy! They kept both big, beautiful, be-speckled girls.

My Sofia (RIP) with little Gus.

Gus & Puck - "The Boys"
In late summer 2009, there were raids on several puppy mills, and suddenly, shelters everywhere were even more over-capacity than ever. I started getting all sorts of email requests for fostering dogs. One request forwarded to me was from ARF (more on them at the end of this post). I saw the cute, tiny face of a little tri-colored puppy and thought, I can foster one little dog. I called the rescue group, connected with a woman named Kathy, and went to her home to pick up my foster pup. But when I got there, two little puppies were waiting for me: the tri-colored one (Gus) and a black-and-white one (Puck). Uh-oh. Then came the request: "So, we were hoping... well... can you please take both of the boys?"

Gus today, with his mom,
studying The Law.

We had many adventures with "the boys," including Puck's bout with Parvo (he was nursed back to health by ARF's awesome executive director, Pippa Jackson). Gus was adopted by a lovely young couple who totally fell in love with him -- and now, more than two years later, he lives with them up in Madison, Wisconsin, where, as you can see, he helps his mom study to become a lawyer. Puck stayed with me for longer, about another two months, which blew my mind because he was so stinking cute.

Baby Puck....
So. Stinking. Cute!

By now, he was also housebroken, and had stopped chewing up my phone chargers (we went through three). One of my best friends showed his picture to her sister, a great woman with a firefighter husband, two awesome kids, and an interest in the impish, loving Puck. As you can see, he's part of the family - exactly where he needed to be.

Grown-up Puck &  his gorgeous family :)

Riley / Gryf - "The Straight-A Dog"

Little "Riley"

After the boys both found homes, I was planning to take a break from fostering, but that's not what the universe had in store. I was driving home in a crazy autumn storm when I saw something small and furry run out in front of my car. I hit the brakes, put my emergency flashers on, and got out. There, waiting for me in the street as if she knew I was coming to save her, was a little Australian Shepherd-looking puppy - drenched, thin, and with a child's elastic hairband wrapped tightly around her neck, making it difficult for her to breathe. I took her home, called ARF, and was told they'd get her on their adoptable list, but had nowhere to keep her, so... I'd need to foster her.

Gryf and her boys today.

Little Riley was sweet, sweet, sweet. And luckily, I had a target for her adoption: a coworker had promised his two boys a dog, contingent on their grades: if they got As, they got a dog. He'd almost adopted Puck, since the semester was going well and Puck was, well, so stinking cute. But in the end, he held firm that Thanksgiving was the very earliest for dog-awarding. I found Riley in October. And in November, those smart boys earned their dog. They named her Gryffindor, in honor of the noble Harry Potter house, but they call her Gryf for short - 'cause, y'know, it's more feminine.

I mean, come on.

Dov (AKA The Muppet, The Bug, Show Me Your Junk Dog, Ewok, Old Man, my little heart)

Okay, I thought! I'm done! The universe cannot send me any more puppies! That's when I got suckered into fostering Dov. He wasn't a puppy. He was an old-man-lookin' muppet, who stole my heart. He was a foster for about four hours before he was just "my dog."

But I'll tell his whole sad story another day; I'm putting you through enough already. And you can rest easy knowing he gets a very happy ending ;-)


Zinnia, The Delicate Flower
Zinnia's is the story that still breaks my heart, because she is still seeking her happy-ever-after. Zinnia was a special-needs-foster: whether from abuse or being hit by a car, she had a spinal injury, and mobility issues. She was shaky on her feet, and frequently fell. Her head tipped to the side. When we got her, she had just spent a week at USM Vet School, and had (as the picture shows) many shaved patches, where she had been poked, prodded, MRI-d, all in hopes of finding some way to steady her.

Sweet Little Zinnia

Despite all this, she remained the happiest dog ever. She'd bounce around on her Bambi-like legs, fall over, grin, get up, fall over again, keep grinning.

We kept her for three months. She was in and out of the vet, on and off various meds, and threw up - a lot. We finally had to bring her back to ARF, because when she was there, she threw up less, and we'd begun to suspect there was some allergen in our house that triggered her nausea. It broke our hearts to return her, without having found her a forever home. She's a sweet girl who deserves someone who will love her, and be inspired by the pluck and positive attitude she exudes.

Hopeful note: She is still available for adoption, and she's steadier on her feet now, too, though still needs TLC. Email arfms@comcast.net if you think your home and heart has room for Zinnia.


"Princess" Gertie
If you're still reading, and not out of Kleenex yet, it's time for Gertie's story. Gertie is a gorgeous purebred Brittany Spaniel... which is exactly why she wound up exploited. She was owned by a backyard breeder, who recklessly over-bred her - including to her own offspring - and when he couldn't sell off a litter, dropped her and her puppies on ARF.

Once, a Put-upon Princess. Now, a Grateful Gertie.

Her name was not Gertie then. It was Princess. Oh, the irony!

An ARF board member took in the puppies. D and I volunteered to foster "Princess." Since the good people at ARF informed us that she didn't respond to "Princess" at all, we renamed her Gertrude, in honor of another troubled mother - Hamlet's, of course. Gertie, for short. We brought her home, and she swiftly proved to be a sweet, loving dog ... who did not do well living with our cat. We knew we needed to get her placed, and quick, but luckily I knew exactly who needed her.

We have a friend who had just survived a heart attack. Who has red hair, like Gertie's. Who is a runner, like Gertie. Who is a dog lover, but whose pets were now living with his ex. They needed each other. They found each other. And I'm so grateful for Gertie's happy ending - especially because her entire litter of puppies wound up having distemper, and each of the poor little babies had to be put to sleep. Those poor babies never had a chance; thank goodness Gertie, at least, got a second one. Lesson to all: don't buy from backyard breeders. EVER. Adopt, adopt, adopt.

Chewie, the Wookie-Dog

From skittish to smiling

And finally, there's Chewie. Chewie came into our house in late July, just as we were entering tech week for a play ("Assassins" with Fondren Theatre Workshop - which was awesome, by the way). NOT a convenient time to take in another four-footed friend. But are you ready for her story?

Her evil former owner had two neglected dogs, and one day, he decided he was just going to get rid of them. He found out that the city pound charges an "owner release fee," so rather than finding a no-kill shelter like ARF, he decided to let his grandkid shoot the dogs.

You read that right. Grandkid. Shoot. The dogs.

Luckily, a neighbor saw the kid pursuing the dog, gun in hand, and offered to take the dogs. (Probably much to the disappointment of the armed grandchild.) The neighbor brought the dogs to ARF, and ARF gave us one of the dogs, "Bitsy."

Much like "Princess," Bitsy had no idea what her name was. So we named her Chewie, short for Chewbacca, because, well, she looks like a little wookie. For the first week or so, Chewie was skittish; if you made a sudden movement, turned on the vacuum, startled her - she'd snap and snarl. It was all just warning; she never bit either of us. She just didn't know how to trust. She got along with Dov, though, and she REALLY loved Loki, the cat. (Sometimes in a dirty way. She had a tendency to sometimes... well... hump him.) After six months of fostering, she's happy, healthy, snuggle-y - and I'm happy to report that, as this new year begins, so too does her new life. She was just adopted by a wonderful couple who are head-over-heels for her. I miss her, but couldn't be happier that she found her forever home.


So in summary, yes, fostering is inconvenient; it can be exhausting, emotionally and physically. It means extra work and extra time and often, extra patience. But it also means extra cuddles, and extra joy, and definitely extra good karma. I can think of no better way to stick it to the "culture of convenience" than by recycling love, rehabilitating abandoned animals and helping them find a forever home. Pets aren't disposable. By fostering, you prove that point. You help a pet learn to love, and then you let that love fill another family's life. Highly inconvenient, and incredibly awesome.

By the way, Animal Rescue Fund of Mississippi (ARF) is the shelter with which I volunteer. They're a no-kill shelter, and a terrific group. If you have a few dollars to spare each month, consider setting up a recurring monthly donation to help all the fur babies there. It's helpful AND convenient! And if you're ready for a little terrific inconvenience in your life, consider fostering. It can make all the difference in the world for the pets you help save.


Addendum 1/4/2011: While fostering is a challenging and emotional experience, I did have some prior experience with this particular volunteering gig. Growing up, my family not only had our own dog, a smart, loyal German Shepherd mix named Stormy, but also we raised Leader Dog puppies for Leader Dogs for the Blind. Puppy raisers for LDB are given a seven-week-old puppy, which you then keep for a year, before returning it to LDB for assessment, training, and pairing with a blind partner. Always hard to say goodbye - but another truly amazing, inconvenient, life-changing (most of all, for a stranger's life) experience. 

*Hey, remember MySpace?

Little "Inconveniences" (Part I)

Okay. Starting now, here are some of the baby steps, aka Little Inconveniences, to which I shall commit. Five ways to incorporate positive inconvenience into my daily life!

I will rebel against the culture of convenience by:

Trendwatching:
Reusable Doggy Bags.
You heard it here first.
(If you hear it somewhere
else... let me know...)

• Taking tupperware with me when I dine out - no more styrafoam to-go boxes! Nerdy, you say? Hippie-dippy? Who cares! Hipsters are probably already ironically re-appropriating hippie-ness. Or they will be. I'm either super far behind or really far ahead, and either way, I'll never know. So bring on the organic cotton skirts and the Birkenstocks with socks! I am taking tupperware into nice restaurants!
• Walking wherever I can. Metro-Jackson is not the best area for walking, for many reasons. But my neighborhood is actually pretty conducive - plenty of sidewalks, plenty of stores (grocery, pharmacy, convenience), coffee shop, restaurants, even a few friends and clients are located within a mile or two. If it's not horrible weather, more than 2 miles away, or a meeting/event that requires heels or lots of stuff-to-shlep... my car can stay home and guard the driveway.
• No take-out meals, other than on road trips. If I'm in town, I can eat real food. No excuses. This will likely also mean being better about shopping, meal planning, pre-cooking, and all that stuff I should already be doing anyway. Maybe when I hit Level II, I'll ban fast food even when on the road, but for now I'm keeping it realistic. Baby steps.
• Writing and mailing at least one letter a week. I rely way, way too much on email and social media to keep up with people. Level II will be mailing birthday cards and presents on time. Well - okay. That's Level III. Mailing them, period, would be Level II. But for now I'm starting with just sending notes, no deadlines keyed to a specific date, just one-each-week, minimum. Best get started on this while the Post Office is not yet extinct...
• One hour of dream-work a day, minimum. No more excuses. I'm 30. It's 2012. Whether it means getting up earlier, staying up later, or saying no to some other request - I will be spend no less than an hour a day, every day, working to convert a dream to reality. This will mostly mean writing, but might mean being on a film set, traveling, or working toward some other bucket-list item

Okay, so that last one sort of jumps from small-baby-step to big-old-dream-pursuit. But in a very first-bite-of-the-elephant sort of way, right?

Embracing Inconvenience

I resolve to embrace inconvenience.

I wasn't sure I was even going to make a new year's resolution this year (other than the standard Start Freaking Exercising Again and Go Get a Haircut, which somehow always both surface as desperate needs by late December).

But then I started thinking.

There are many things in my life that I do, simply because they're convenient, even though I know they're no good for me. These things include:

• Eating fast food and / or crappy processed food
• Multi-tasking to the hilt - I mean, To. The. HILT.
• Relying on Facebook to keep up with people



Goodbye, convenient lunch.

• Staying in my comfort zone (and others' comfort zones)

Note: these are not all easy, they're just convenient - and that's one of the contradictions I want to explore in this little experiment. Some are big things. Some are little things.

There are also plenty of things that I don't do, because they are inconvenient. These, too, range from little daily decisions to big life-altering tendencies, such as:

• Seeking out local food options / cooking ahead
• Making time for focusing on spirituality, staying centered, growth
• Hand-writing letters / making phone calls
• Taking risks and / or pursuing passions

A lot of the convenient things I do (and inconvenient things I avoid) have to do with trying to conserve time, working too much, and/or being afraid - of rejection, of change, of letting someone else down. Looking back, though, some of the most inconvenient moments in my life have led to the biggest breakthroughs. Ends of relationships. Job transitions. Cross-country moves. Cross-town moves.

Convenience can be good. But it can also be boring. If all we do is preserve the paths of least resistance, the journey's not going to be much of an adventure. Sometimes, inconvenience is more interesting. So why not bust out the proverbial surfboard and ride that unexpected wave?

I don't mean I'm going to go seeking out trouble or inconvenience. I just mean I'm going to take a two-pronged approach to ensuring that I am neither ruled by a culture of convenience, no derailed by incoming inconvenience. Here's the idea:

I did a week in
a bridesmaid dress.
I can do a year
of inconvenience.

1) Question convenience. If something is in my life simply because it's convenient, and not because it's good for me in any other way, I need to take stock. Should I be eating fast food? Or should I maybe reconsider what I'm eating, how much I'm rushing, why I'm relying on drive-through. Maybe something - or several things - is wrong with this picture.

2) Answer inconvenience... with a grin. You know what they say: man plans, God laughs. Well, starting now, if something comes up that seems inconvenient, I don't want to get all pouty about my plan. I want to join in the laughter. It's going to be a challenge. But it certainly can't be worse than fighting inconvenience or living in a claustrophobic comfort zone.

Embrace inconvenience. My resolution, and my wish for you. May your 2012 be inconvenient in the most glorious, unexpected, and enriching ways. L'chaim!