The Entertainment

I was pouty when I needed my husband to help with a couple of my son’s geometry questions.  Math is outside of my realm of expertise, but I figured I could hang in the homework circuit through elementary school.  I didn’t expect to call in a pinch mathematician in third grade.

Well, turns out, it could be worse.  I could, hypothetically, be unable to figure out one problem on my kindergartener’s math homework!

Reckless is in a “Math Stars” program, so she has special assignments for math each week and I got stuck on one this time.  Hypothetically!  I looked at it for twenty minutes and still had no clue.  My husband had cackled when I called for help with our son’s homework, so this level of disability would surely entertain him.

I consulted with another academically gifted person in this house first, to save some marital embarrassment/ammunition.  Brainy wasn’t sure how to solve it either, making me feel a little better.  We both assumed we were missing something obvious and fundamental that his dad would point out when he got home.

But, no.  My genius husband didn’t know either!  That made me feel WAY better.  If he couldn’t solve it; it was virtually insolvable.  We turned in the assignment today with number 7 blank.  Maybe it was a test to smoke out the next Albert Einstein.  In which case I can report he/she does not live in my house. 

Technically, I didn’t show Stretch the problem, but while discussing her upcoming field trip on the way home from church Wednesday night, I said the play was going to be downtown and she asked, “Is that in the United States or no?”  We may keep her on basic counting for now, so we have time for some remedial geography lessons.

Anyway, when there are news reports about how bad other nations are beating us in math and science, I just want you to know they mean me.  And my mom.  I blew it.  I put every ounce of intellectual energy into language and arts and now I make nary a dime because of it.  But hopefully all you left-brains will keep supporting us right-brains because we’re fun to have around.

 

The Goal Guy

My name is Heather and I have a life coach.  As a disclaimer, I should say this just started a week ago.  Otherwise you might take a birds’ eye inventory of my life and think yikes, how much of a mess would she be without a life coach?

I know you’re wondering what kind of handicapped I am to need a coach for the basic function of living.  It’s one thing to need a soccer coach or a reading coach, since those are skills we have to learn, but a “life” coach?  And, even more alarming, this man approached me and offered his life coaching services pro bono.  That had a major “charity case” feel to it.  It’s sort of like someone saying, “Do you want me to do something with your hair for you?”  I guess I just have that “fixer-upper” look about me.

But, after talking with him, I’ve decided to look at it more along the lines of showing potential.  Like the first time someone saw Michael Phelps swimming laps in the pool and said, “Hey, with the right coach, he could be great.” 

The other reason this came about is that a friend of mine at church is currently getting credentialed to be a life coach and he needed guinea pigs experience.  He chose me and a basketball player from North Carolina playing professionally in Israel.  We’re both supposed to be shooting 90% from the free throw line by March.

This life coach knew me well enough to know I’ve failed some “life tests” in my past and that I can be very disciplined at achieving goals when I stay focused on the right things.  And, just like anyone who’s ever met me, he can see that I’m somewhat of a flibbertigibbet and lose focus easily.  So, he’s offering to help me be all I can be.  (I may have actually joined the United States Army; I’ll let you know.)

My coach was finishing lunch when I walked in for our first official “practice” yesterday.  I asked him five or six questions in under twenty seconds as I took my seat and he said lesson number one might need to be learning to ask one question at a time because not everyone thinks and responds at MACH III like me.  They don’t?  Well, that explains some things then.

In case you don’t have all the answers either, I’ll share my findings.  “How is a life coach different than a counselor?”  Not that I couldn’t use a counselor, just wondering.  Counselors deal a lot with the past, working through things that have happened.  Life coaches focus on the future, on things that could happen.  Flying cars, of course, but also on what I could achieve on a personal level if I apply myself.  There’s an outside shot that those will be one and the same, but don’t hold your breath.

I also wondered how a life coach helps a person succeed.  Would this be a trust fund situation?  Did he maybe have an executive at Random House in his back pocket?  Would he be shouting at me in the gym when I felt like I couldn't do one more pull-up?  Does the pro bono package include him preparing healthy snacks for me?

The answer to all of those is, sadly, NO.  He is an encourager and motivator.  I set goals and he guides me down the path to achieving them.  Turns out they have to be realistic goals, like setting aside two hours a week to developing characters for a new novel or maintaining my weight, not things like moving into the Governor’s mansion by the end of the year or separating calories from Reese’s peanut butter cups.

And probably the biggest appeal of having a life coach is that he helps me achieve goals in every area.  Which means I can now fire my career advisor, weight loss counselor, family therapist, and sensei – Mr. Miyagi.  (His Karate Kid money only went so far.)

This year I got an agent, a mentor, and a life coach.  Depending on how you look at it, I’m either one babysitter short of a strait jacket or one bodyguard short of an entourage.

In other news, I’m now accepting applications for the bodyguard position.

Squirrels and Shotguns

As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, there’s a new trail that runs behind my street.  Well, the trail itself doesn’t run, but it’s available if I want to.  I’m grateful to the city of Raleigh for building it for me, which is what it seems they did during the hottest days of summer and the coldest days of winter when I’m one of maybe two or three people on it, or when there’s a light rain and I’m the only person on it.

But in autumn and spring, everyone thinks they’re outdoorsy.  Suddenly the trail is packed with walkers, runners, and bikers of all shapes and skill levels.  It’s nice to see so many people exercising, and that amount of potential witnesses drastically lowers my chances of being attacked or abducted, so I don’t mind hurdling the occasional downed biker or darting away from rabid looking dogs trying to ditch their meandering owners and catch me.  I don’t mind sharing my trail.

But there aren’t just dogs on leashes out there.  There are unleashed dogs, snakes, foxes, deer, dragonflies, butterflies, enough varieties of worms to make your skin crawl, and most days I have to dodge squirrels in a rugby match.  But last week was the first time I encountered men with shotguns.

I was trying to squeeze in a 14 mile bike ride before the sun went down and I was about halfway through when the arms dealers in question came into view.  It was close enough to dusk that I couldn’t get a great assessment of them or the situation when I first saw them.  There were three males, all standing in the middle of my trail holding rifles.  No one else was around and I hadn’t seen another person in a couple of miles.

Whatever normal psychological process that would signal a lone female to turn around at that point didn’t kick in for me.  My first thought was I wonder what’s going on up there?  And in the short time it took me to reach them, I was already thinking Bear.  And, I had already decided I wouldn’t let those renegades kill him.

Once I reached them, I realized they weren’t full-grown men; they were teenage boys disguising themselves as men with height advantages and, in one case, a stubble covered chin.  Remembering what notorious bad decision makers teenage boys are, I was suddenly more concerned for myself than the bear.

Just as I passed them, one boy angled his gun in such a way that I could see the orange cap on the end of it.  I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant about his weapon, but no Denzel Washington or Liam Neeson movie I’ve ever seen has an orange cap on the guns, so I figured I was safe.  And within a couple more minutes I realized they were probably playing paintball in the woods.  Which is fine; paintball is fun.  But I’d rather they not use my trail for strategy sessions, because it’s sort of unsettling to be out enjoying my exercise and finding armed gunmen on my path.

Not as unsettling as the fact that I was going to take them on to save a bear!  I’m actually more afraid of bears than men with guns.  The whole thing made me miss the minor inconvenience of squirrels playing rugby.  And question my sanity.

Up For Debate

If I had to spend my twentieth wedding anniversary at a Presidential debate, I’d at least expect my husband to win.  Or come in second.  Obama answered his first debate question with salutations to his wife on their wedding anniversary and what I think were supposed to be jokes regarding how they were spending the evening.  He profusely thanked everyone involved in arranging and hosting the debate and I’m pretty sure he even thanked the Academy. 

A quick shout out to the Missus was in order, but to waste so much time on pleasantries made Obama seem like he was stalling to come up with an answer about the economy.  Which I assume is what he’s been doing for four years, stalling to come up with a solution.  But, don’t worry, he apparently has lots of solutions in mind now.  He repeatedly said, “I have a plan to…”  If only someone would give him a chance to be President.  Oh wait.  We did.

And The President can blame the previous administration all he wants about leaving him with a big mess, and, frankly, he can even be right about that.  The fact remains we needed someone capable of cleaning up that mess and turning things around and if 32 million Americans were on food stamps when he took office and 47 million are now, I’d say he failed big time.  (Disclaimer:  I didn’t have my fact checker confirm this statistic after the debate.  But if it weren’t true, CNN would’ve corrected it immediately.)

Interestingly, Obama didn’t play offense or defense in that first debate.  I think he was toying with a Swiss neutrality.  And I think he wasn’t sure which one of them was the incumbent.  There were a few instances where he complained about current state of our government.  Tax breaks for Exxon Mobile, incentives to ship jobs overseas, a disappearing middle class, etc.  Yes, the President of this nation should be ashamed of himself for allowing this.  Oh wait.  That’s you.

I was not happy to find out how much money the President spent on “green energy”.  We need alternative fuels, but 90 billion dollars and fifty years' worth of tax breaks to wind and solar companies?  Companies that ate my tax dollars and went belly up!  I’d probably judge his tactics differently if my minivan ran on wind or there was some effective way to use the sun to power our air conditioning all summer long.

I won’t pretend to understand our healthcare system to say what’s wrong with it and how it needs to be fixed.  But I know that a lack of competition is almost always a bad thing.  What if Hunt’s was the only ketchup brand?  What if our only ice cream option was vanilla?  Vanilla for everyone, but only vanilla!  And what if only one company, Walmart let’s say, made that vanilla.  You would be stuck with a mediocre product.  No vanilla bean, no French vanilla, no homemade style or low fat.  They could start packaging it with rat poison and we’d be stuck with it because it was the only ice cream available.  I think we’re better off when someone can steal customers away by making it without rat poison and offering a cookies and cream option.  And, sure, maybe only high rollers can afford that new cookies and cream, but in effort to retain a share of the marketplace, Walmart starts making their own version of cookies and cream.

On a final note, the topic of the busted housing market came up.  Both candidates seemed to agree that this problem arose from loan officers offering more than people could really afford.  Sure, maybe they shouldn’t have done that, but come on, where is the personal accountability?  If you make $40,000 a year and get approved for a $450,000 home loan, it doesn’t mean you should take it!  It’s mathematics not magic.  I’m horrible at both of those but can still figure out that a loan eventually has to be paid back, so I should only take those in my financial stratosphere. 

It is not the government’s job to babysit us.  How long until the government has to ration out cookies because people can’t make wise decisions about how many they should eat?  And what if everyone starts eating so many that we have rocketing rates of obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure, etc., and then insurance premiums go up and individuals get dropped from private plans because they refuse to take care of themselves.  Just what if.  I don’t want my tax dollars going to another gastric bypass surgery for Carnie Wilson; she needs to have some personal accountability. 

Our country needs to have some personal accountability, to prevent metaphorical train wrecks so that we don’t have to get bailed out of them.  We need to take care of the truly disabled citizens in our country, those who can’t help themselves, because we’re a team.  But everyone else needs to get up and show the kind of initiative America was built on.  We need to elect a President that can provide the opportunities for us to do so.

The Bad Food Break-Up!

A retired doctor in Virginia, who saw my story in Good Housekeeping, contacted me about a month ago and asked me to speak at a Women's Wellness Retreat she was hosting this weekend.  I addressed the women during their banquet last night and spoke about change, fitness, motivation, diet, and exercise, but there was one comedic highlight that I'll share with you here.

I told the women that, "In a lot of ways, changing your eating habits is like going through a break-up.  You'll miss cookies and cheeseburgers.  You enjoyed them; you had a lot of good times together; but, like an abusive boyfriend, they were bad for you.  And, who knows, maybe you guys can be friends again one day after you reach your goals.  That cheeseburger can be someone you see once or twice a year like an old college buddy.

But once you make a clean break from the bad food and give yourself time to get it out of your system and "get over it", you will learn to love eating healthy.  You won't fall in love with all of it; maybe you'll hate grilled fish but love Greek yogurt.  Just don't force yourself to choke down anything because it's healthy.  There are enough healthy options out there that you can keep trying different ones until you find the ones you love and want to eat.

And don't give yourself "cheat" days because that just keeps you hung up on the ex, keeps you from fully committing to a healthy lifestyle.

Believe me, the longer you and bad food have been broken up, the easier it will be to ignore his calls.  You'll miss it less and less as time goes by."

And for my readers, I'll add that now might not be the best time to break things off with bad food completely.  It's hard with the holidays approaching, since that's when some of you happiest memories with him are, so I'd suggest telling bad food that you're going to start seeing other people.  Grilled chicken, salads, maybe give Special K a chance.  Spend most of your time with the healthy foods and just accept that you'll run into bad food at the holiday parties you used to go to together.  Be cordial, ask about his family, but don't let him come home with you!

Wedding Belles

If any of you or anyone you know is having or attending a wedding any time soon, my daughters would like to come.

Because they went to their first wedding last night and all the way home they were badgering me about when they could go to another one.  Soon?  Next week?  For our birthday?  I had to explain that weddings aren’t like trips to Chick fil’A, a special treat that Mommy can bestow whenever she feels like it.  We have to know two people who are getting married.  Or at least one of those people.  They are now on a mission to make friends with as many single adults as possible to increase their chances.

I’ve been to a lot of weddings in my life, and they’re always fun, but to see one through the eyes of my two little girls was a new and exciting experience.  And the venue for this wedding provided the perfect cinematic setting for their fairy tale dreams come to life.  There was this grand, wide, towering staircase at the end of the aisle that was guarded by an army of candles and the bride and groom scaled the steps to the first landing to exchange vows and hypnotize us with their young love and beauty.

Stretch and Reckless were the only children in attendance.  One of their best friends was the flower girl with a prestigious position on the staircase.  I had worried that they wouldn’t sit still or they’d talk or whisper or giggle during the ceremony, and I warned (threatened) them accordingly, but that wasn’t necessary because they were too in awe to move or speak anyway.

After the ceremony, we were ushered out into the foyer for drinks and refreshments while that same room was turned into the reception hall.  We didn’t get to watch this transformation, but it was such a dramatic change in such a short period of time that I suspect fairies were involved.  Especially because the room had fallen under a pink light spell when we returned.

Stretch’s broken leg proved to be a big draw to the guests, an easy conversation starter.  She was sitting in one of the few chairs during the wedding/reception intermission that had us gathered in the foyer with Bruschetta and cold beverages, and at least a dozen investment bankers asked her how she got the cast.

I’m not sure they were investment bankers, but most of the attendees could’ve passed for that.  This was my best friend/blog designer/karaoke companion’s sister’s wedding.  Her little sister is so cool and beautiful that she puts Barbie to shame.  She’s a blond-haired, fashion savvy, ex-cheerleader stylist with a heart of gold.  There were plenty of hip twentysomethings on hand to witness the nuptials, all of them fresh from the pages of Vogue magazine, but they were markedly outnumbered, eclipsed even, by the family and friends of both sets of parents who appeared to be fresh from the Republican National Convention.

As a matter of fact, as I stood at the end of the long foyer getting ice water and glanced back across the expanse I realized that even though I missed the one in Tampa this year, this provided a taste of what it felt like to be there.  This was at the point that one elegant fiftyish woman glided over to her husband, who was standing in line near me and the girls, and asked for his credit card.  There was a swanky jewelry store attached to this ballroom.  I had passed by it in my search for hummus, but the girls and I couldn’t afford to go in.  And I assume that alarms would’ve sounded if children passed through the glass doors anyway.

The man asked his wife, “What do you need it for?” as he handed the shiny piece of plastic to her. 

“I found a necklace,” she said, “It’s only three-fifty.”  There is no way she meant three dollars and fifty cents, people.  I was standing there wondering what kind of people pick up jewels during half-time of a wedding, and then it came to me – campaign supporters.  And I briefly considered making a bid for the Senate right then and there, but Reckless said she needed to go potty and that seemed like the more pressing need in light of her lemonade consumption.

The reception was even better than the wedding for the girls.  Unfortunately, Stretch has a broken leg and couldn’t tear up the dance floor with Reckless and her flower girl friend.  But with the crazy moves those two were putting down out there, it wasn’t safe to send out a cripple. 

Luckily there was a two year old cousin out there who made the girls’ moves look very advanced.  And that little dude kept trying to dance and get funky way past when he could stand up straight.  His mom told me he usually hits the clubs on Saturday nights to burn off his energy, so it was a nice change to have a family event to party at.  He was still lighting it up when we left last night; he probably closed the place down.

Reckless would never tell you this herself, or at least not without blushing, but her favorite part was when one of the groomsmen danced with her during a slow song and twirled her approximately forty times.  It started out with just her and him, but her friend joined in so that together they could have enough nerve to handle that situation.  I was rather impressed by his ability to dance with and twirl two girls at once; he appeared to be quite practiced at it, whatever that may imply.

A recap of this wedding wouldn’t be complete without a review of these Texas girls, the four sisters, their beautiful mother, aunts and cousins, changing into more comfortable, shorter dresses and cowgirl boots and performing a rockin’ “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” line dance.  That’s how you keep it real even if you’ve been transplanted to other states.  It’s how you remind people that, “Hey, I might live here, but when Texas becomes an autonomous country, I’m going back!”  The most impressive part was how two of the bride’s older sisters pulled off this line dance flawlessly, and even sexily, while holding their little babies in one arm like they were holding a drink.

After I got my girls tucked into bed last night I told my husband he might want to get another job and start saving because in the wedding discussion on the way home, Stretch said she wanted a wedding like that and then Reckless said, “Or like the one we watched on TV with Nana!”  (Which was when Prince William married Kate Middleton.)  Love is priceless, weddings aren’t.

 

A Presidential Debate

I’ve never used my blog as a political forum.  You’ve probably been able to ascertain that freedom of speech is almost as important to me as frozen yogurt, but the only “party politics” I ever engage in on here have been along the lines of “I’m having a football party and you’re only invited if you’ll cheer for the Giants.”

But it’s hard to avoid political conversations with a Presidential election rapidly approaching.  I won’t go into all of my personal politics and defenses of them here.  I just want to make a couple of quick remarks regarding this election and then I’ll take three to five pre-approved questions from the audience that my team of writers has prepared answers for.

Number one, I am so sick of Mitt Romney being criticized for his wealth.  Why does the media keep insisting he isn’t qualified to be President because he’s too successful and out of touch with “normal” citizens?  They are essentially implying we should elect some minimum-wage earning, modestly educated, underinsured laborer to our highest office just because that person could understand us better.  Really?  Then they should nominate the assistant manager of my local Harris Teeter to be President of the United States of America.

It’s ridiculous.  Why wouldn’t we want someone who knows how to grow a business and amass a fortune?  He’s good with money and our economy is broken, seems like a good fit to me.  And you don’t have to experience unemployment to help find a solution for it.  Jonas Salk cured polio even though he’d never had it himself. 

And even if Romney didn’t care about low-income families out of a spirit of humanity or moral obligation as a leader, he would still want to improve their circumstances because it’s guys like him (multi-millionaires) who are giving up nearly 50% of their income to support the government assistance programs that sustain (and at times coddle) these citizens. 

And, yes, Romney will give rich people a tax break, because he sees the injustice of punishing people for their success.  But even with tax cuts, wealthy Americans will contribute way more to the federal budget than the rest of us.  As it should be.  If Kobe Bryant paid 15% of his annual income in taxes and I paid 15% of my annual income in taxes, he’d be giving about 4.2 million and I’d toss in another twelve dollars.  That seems fair.

Number two, I don’t want to hear Barack Obama and his peeps telling us he needs more time to make that change he promised four years ago.  Four years is a LONG time.  Maybe not long enough to fix everything, but certainly long enough to fix some things.  Four years should be enough time to instill confidence in your nation that you are definitely the right man for the job. 

This isn’t about what Obama did or didn’t do.  It isn’t even necessarily a remark on this election and Presidency.  I just think that politicians can’t ask for more time to do what they said they’d do.  The length of a Presidential term was chosen because that’s long enough to make a positive impact on our country, long enough to achieve your goals if you’re capable of achieving them.  And if you do a great job, there is the option (not right) of doing it again.  A second term is meant for repeating successes, not still trying to accomplish the first ones.

And even if a President is phenomenal and we wanted to elect him a third time, we can’t.  Because the framers of our constitution realized that our country can and will benefit from changes in leadership, from fresh ideas and perspectives.

I don’t agree with everything that Mitt Romney has said and done in his life.  And I don’t agree with everything Barack Obama has said and done in his life either.  Honestly, I don’t agree with about half of what I’ve said and done in my own life.  But I’ve seen how effective Barack Obama is as our President and I’m not very impressed. 

If this was football, and oh how I wish it were, and our team had a man at quarterback for four years and we hadn’t won very many games, wouldn’t we put in a replacement quarterback?  Maybe we didn’t even have a losing record, but we failed to make the playoffs for four consecutive years and our fans were disheartened.  We’d try out someone new at quarterback, right?  We’d probably sign some new wide receivers and safeties in the off-season too.  It would come down to who on our roster impresses us and where was there room for improvement.

But one thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t discount a potential quarterback because he had only played in Super Bowl games and never thrown a regular season pass.  Or because he didn’t know what it was like to be an offensive lineman.  It’s not his job to be an offensive lineman.  Obviously any quarterback would want his offensive line to be successful, because his success is dependent on their success, just as a President’s success is dependent on the success of American citizens. 

A quarterback understands and appreciates the role that the offensive line plays in winning a game even if he’s never been on that line himself, just like Mitt Romney can understand the need for a strong middle class and the plight of low-income families despite having never been in those positions. 

I’m sure there are legitimate arguments for why neither of these men should be President, but Mitt Romney being wealthy and successful isn’t one of them.