Hello and welcome! An introduction for you: I'm a mom, wife, friend, animal-lover, and lacrosse parent who also happens to write, edit and manage a publishing company for a living. So why not start a blog, I thought? And here ya go...

March 30, 2009

Did I Say I Was a Survivor? Clearly, a Challenge


What's up with my last post and my bold claim that I'm a survivor? Not on the show (snort! As if!) but in life. Clearly, God (or Fate) felt I was asking for a challenge and He served it up. Which wasn't really what I was doing. My claim was more a segway into my examples of how bad I'd be on the show Survivor. To be funny. You know, funny ha-ha. But since my last post, I believe I've been hit with more back to back curve balls in a short span of time than I've ever experienced. And I'm thinking, ok, this is good. Ok God? You've given me some stuff to prove I'm a survivor. Now let me get after it, but please, no more.


We all feel this way from time to time, I feel sure. An analogy I heard about labor contractions comes to mind and absolutely applies here. I read that contractions were like getting hit with a hammer on the thumb, repeatedly but with only medium strength. One hit is certainly tolerable. A couple hits, you can cope. But over and over and over? It's the constant repetition and the uncertainty over how long you'll continue getting hit that eventually consumes you and drives you mad. It's more mental than physical--each hit? No big deal. Unending hits without anyone to tell you how long you need to deal with it before it gets better? Goodnight Gracie!

In today's day and age, lots of people are getting hit over and over with that hammer--each hit might not do you in but lots and lots of hits? Yeah, you get it. How you cope with this type of stuff is what shows what kind of stuff you're made of; after all, everyone can be rosy, happy, generous, friendly, charitable, giving when the hammer's safely out of sight and the good times are rolling. But character is truly revealed during the tough times. I also absolutely believe that God doesn't serve us more than we can handle. But sometimes (oh, say nowish) I still just want to call Uncle: "Eh hem. Um God? Me here. Hey, listen. I know I said I was a survivor and that I could handle whatever comes my way. And that's true, it is. But seriously--I'm good now. No more please."

Me and millions of other folks, right? I know. Just thought I'd share...you're not alone.

March 26, 2009

Survivor? In Life--Absolutely. On TV--Not Hardly.


Sometimes, my mind gets to going 90 to nothing, and one thought quickly leads to another and that leads to another and before I know it, what started out as thoughts about what to make for dinner ends up with what the heck was I thinking wearing a white dress to prom my junior year of high school (sadly, that is true--I was all Gone With the Wind and stuff; it was as bad as you're envisioning).

Today, I was thinking about how Fox News reported this morning that there were some brief indicators showing we might, just might--nobody jinx this--be nearing the end of the economic catastrophe. Things like the increase in new homes purchased, existing homes bought and sold, refinancing homes, goods ordered in the month of February. That last one is key when it comes to trucking, because goods ordered must then become goods shipped. And we all know most of our stuff--whether you wear it, drive it, eat it or just show it off--got to us by way of a truck. One with 18 wheels. Hallelujah for us. And when trucking picks up, the rest of the country follows--this is proven.

From that thought, I considerd all the good folks who would benefit by the increase in goods ordered and needing to be moved. How these guys and gals in trucking are survivors (along with their families) and will be able to look back and go: wow, now that was bad, but I made it through.

Which then lead me to the show Survivor, a favorite of my son's and mine. And while I am a survivor in the real world sense--no matter what's dumped in my lap, I'll handle it. Don't know how necessarily but I know I will--I would actually be a horrific candidate on the show Survivor. Here's why:

1 - I prefer to be clean

2 - I hate bugs. Living with them would be bad enough but having to eat them, like in a challenge? Just vote me out now.

3 - I'm not a fan of flashing my chest for food--although I'm sure I would end up doing it because

4 - I like food. And if that's what it took to get something to eat after weeks of rice, beans and mud pie, what's a couple boobs between me and several million of my closest friends. But then would I have a job when I got back to the civilized world? I mean, who employs a girl willing to flash a national audience in exchange for pizza or a moon pie?

5 - I hate fish. Hate seeing them, smelling them, swimming with them, touching them, or trying to catch them. Just recently, I've learned to eat them (breaded or blackened) but if I had to see it gutted first, count me out.

6 - My tolerance for idiocy is slim. And then I'd have to speak up about it but everyone knows the person who tries to direct the rest of the clowns gets axed. Quickly.

and 7 - My idea of making fire involves matches, not flint and a knife.

Safe to say you won't see me on that show, but I do love to watch it. And I love even more that the survivor days for those of us in trucking might be approaching the final days. There's a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel anyway. And I know this: those challenges filmed for television in some remote part of the world sure didn't hold a candle to the one we all endured right here. Bug eating or not.

Personal note here: my nephew (and one of my son's best friends) Brody's birthday is today and I'd like to send him a big cyber smooch and tell him Happy Birthday. Also earlier this month was my neice Rileigh's birthday; I missed talking to her that day (bad Aunt!) but think that announcing it on this world stage might get me back in her good graces. Happy Birthday to the pair of you!

Brody and his mom/my awesome friend, Heather:

DSC01194

Rileigh (on the right) with her sister Sydnee and cool cousin Chase:

Chase Rileigh Sydnee

March 25, 2009

Another Year, Another Mid-America Gone


I used to measure the years by each Mid-America Truck Show that went by. This beauty, the largest trucking show in the country and held each March in Louisville, Ky., is a staple in our industry. I've been attending it since I first stepped foot into the world of 18 wheelers, team drivers, payloads, hometime...green as Joey Logano at Talladega. If I thought I knew what was up, Mid-America taught me I was wrong. But at a show like this, I could learn a lot in a hurry. Mid-America indoctrinated me in a way no other three day whirlwind of walking, booths, exhibitors, drivers, entertainment, food, concerts, parties and beauty contests could (truck beauty contests, not women--it ain't that kind of show). And last week's show was no disappointment for me.

Oh, I'd heard the stories about how it'd be dead this year, how the economy was driving folks away, but I had faith the drivers would show up in droves and that's who I care most about. And you didn't let me down. There are three wings utilized for the show at the convention center; our booth was in the west wing and I think the foot traffic there was super. I was lucky enough to see some of my oldest and dearest colleagues/friends in the industry (you know who you are) as well as seeing some of my oldest and dearest trucking friends in the industry. Folks like Tony Hamilton of Operation Roger, featured in our March Trucker's Connection; John and Sheila Ewing who lent me some electricity and have, in fact, never let me down anytime I've needed their help; and William Scott who was probably the very first driver I ever met and got to know personally. William and I have a storied history together that involves donuts, baseball bats and public speaking engagements. How's that for a past? I was saddened to hear about the passing of his mother and hate like hell that I missed seeing his dad, who attends every year and is as much a joy to know.

But William's dad wasn't the only person I missed--in fact, I missed more folks than I caught up to and that's a real testimony to the crowds and the action that was going on this year. But I do hate missing all the folks who've emailed to say: Where were you??! I was there, I promise!

I actually got to spend a good amount of the show walking around with a new greenie to the industry, a terrific gal named Elizabeth Haman who works with our sister publication, the famous The Trucker newspaper (you know it, you love it, I know). It was her first rodeo and I talked and pointed out so many things, it's a wonder she'll retain any of it. But it's way cool to be bringing more folks into the industry. And this will be a year for a lot of that. I saw companies missing from the show but what I also saw were a lot of hungry drivers eager to hit the road. I think we'll be seeing some fresh faces on the scene throughout '09 and next year as well. Small player companies will be the giants of tomorrow. Drivers getting started now will be earning their million safe miles before we know it. Yeah, these times, they are a'changing. But I'd like to say for the better. For how long was our biggest problem the need for quality drivers to take the roads in charge of 80,000 lbs of the nation's needed goods? Now, we have thousands of drivers looking for the challenge. As an old boss of mine used to say: Shoooooot, that's a high-grade problem to have.

What hasn't changed is the reliablity of getting together for three days in Louisville each March to shake hands, give some hugs, and laugh about the days we were all fresh faced on the scene.

Another year, another Mid-America gone by. If I missed you this year...there's always next year, friends. There's always next year.

March 20, 2009

St Patty's, Layoffs & Green Bling


Irish or not, you gotta celebrate St Patrick's Day. That's my personal philosophy. And we have a little Irish pub up the street called (appropriately) Harp that is perfect for this particular occasion. It's our own personal spot to go drink green beer, wear green martian stars on our heads and green light up beads around our necks, and punch out a few green jello shooters. Just like they do in Ireland.

Funny thing about St. Patty's Day, last year it took on a new meaning to some great friends of ours, Clark and Patty Korbisch. Or as we call them, the Korbi's. (Nicknames are a sign of true friendship in our house.) See, last year, we arranged to meet up at the pub for corned beef & cabbage, Irish whiskey and all the green bling we could stand. My hub and I arrived on time and promptly found some other friends we hadn't seen in awhile and struck up a chat. Two hours later, still no Korbi's. What? Stood up? Seriously? We were rethinking the nickname already.

But then there they were, strolling in with a look on their faces that I interpreted as either sheepish because they were late and clearly were working up an excuse that would salvage their nickname or there was something that was actually wrong and they needed beer fast. They didn't even care if it was green. This was serious.

Turns out, our pal Clark had been let go that day from a job he'd held for over a decade. Laid off?! On St. Patrick's Day? How...uncouth! I was aghast. But Clark and Patty were acting--strangely--pretty ok with this new revelation. They'd spent the last couple hours explaining to their four children what had happened, reassuring them that the house would still be paid for and no drama, band, xbox live or sports activities would be sacrificed. And then they headed up to see us, where Clark explained that while he was shocked, sure, because he didn't realize this was coming, he was actually somewhat relieved. And this guy was no grocery store clerk (not that I'm knocking the proud scanners of all things food related around the country) but this wasn't someone who could find a replacement job with the snap of a finger. A decade in, this guy had seniority, experience and a handsome paycheck you can't just replace from a want-ad in the newspaper (not that anyone uses newspapers to find jobs anymore anyway--you get my point).

But Clark explained that really, he'd been unhappy with his job and employer for quite sometime but it was the investment he'd made in the job, the paycheck he earned, and the sheer loyalty to his company that made him stay. He told us, unhappy or no, he knew he never would have quit. So being pushed from the nest was actually the best thing that could have happened.

Huh. Laid off, but mysteriously ok with it. It was a new perspective for me but then I thought this is another of those "all things happen for a reason" deals. And I'm a big, big believer in that concept. I'd just never applied it to the loss of a job. But now that a year has passed since that fateful night, and so many thousands of folks have lost their jobs as well, it's a perspective for many to consider. Will life be tough, is it a struggle because jobs are now scarce across the board? Oh yes. I don't mean to make light of any of that. The trucking industry isn't unlike all the rest. But maybe if you find yourself in this position, you'll discover that the ultimate outcome from such a shocking deal will land you in a better position in the long run.

In the last year, Clark got some needed work and some very cool updates done around his house and did indeed land a new job along the way. So this year, we celebrated not just St. Patrick's Day but also Clark's Layoff Anniversary with gusto and green bling. Check us out (us, the Korbi's and another cool friend, Pam):

St Pattys2

March 16, 2009

The Middle-of-the-Night Voice


Has anyone figured out a way to make your middle-of-the-night voice show up in the day time, you know, when it might actually be helpful? You know what I mean by middle-of-the-night voice? Which I'm going to call the MNV because that's already become a headache to write out. It's that voice that comes to you in the middle of the night when you're just a little bit awake after maybe turning from your right side to your left or after your kidneys came a'knockin' at 3:00 a.m. and you've just settled back in but haven't fallen asleep. This is when the past day's events seep back into your fuzzy mind, reminding you usually not about the happy-go-lucky times but rather the stressful, more unfortunate times. Because that's how minds work: just when you are ready to fall asleep and forget the day's worries, it slams you with the crap you really would like to forget.

But here's the kicker: as you think over the events that didn't go swimmingly and the horrible way you handled a situation, your MNV kicks in and serves up the perfect response, the one you should've given whoever you tangled with. And it's good, too, this MNV. It's very clever, very cunning, very "you ain't got no response to this." Right?

Like, lets say you had a little run in with the gal who's always using your coffee mug at work and then putting it in the sink unwashed, where it sits, taunting you with cooties you know aren't yours that the cooty-owner didn't even have the courtesy to clean off. Yesterday, you walked up just as she put the cooty cup in the sink. Caught: red-handed. And now, it's your chance to clarify a few things about personal effects and respecting others' stuff. Yeah, that's right. She needs to know it's rude to use others' things and then, to boot, not even wash it when done. Uh huh. You go on wit'cha bad self. So what'd you say when given this opportune chance to set her straight? "That's my cup."

Stunning.

And she said: "So?" You: Well, it's rude to use it because it's mine and then you don't even wash it either. And what'd she say? "Whatever." And walked away, leaving you and your cooty cup alone by the sink.

But after switching from left to right at 3:00, you begin to rehash this event. And your MNV gives a much more appropriate ending: "Whatever?" you call after her, making her stop and turn around. You walk toward her, slowly. "Whatever? No. I don't think so. The next time I see you using my cup, you'll find something of your own missing and it'll be more valuable than a cup," you say in a low voice no one else can hear, narrowing your eyes so you look just a little crazy. "Whatever that!" Bam! Nice.

Or maybe your girlfriend dumped you, saying it's because she needs her space but you know it's really because she's eyeballing her neighbor. "I just feel closed in and emotionally encumbered," she tells you. "Well, give me a call sometime," you utter, shocked by her audacity to lie and unable to think straight. Cue 3:00 a.m. and your MNV says: "You are breaking up with me?! Well," you snort, "good luck seeing how long the stud next door puts up with your whining, your unrealistic demand for constant ego-stroking, and your ridiculous mood swings. Oh, and your legs do look fat in those shorty shorts."

Wow, your MNV is mean. But oh the satisfaction of picturing the scene the way it should've gone. If only that MNV would pipe up before the incident rather than after because nothing trumps a MNV response. Now you and your smug satisfaction, go back to sleep.

Wait, one more thing! Will you be at Mid-America this week? Stop and say hello, would ya? Booth 69067.

March 14, 2009

Lets Make A Deal, Mid-America Style


Is it just in Atlanta or do rainy days always seem to fall on the weekend everywhere else too? Not that I can be knocking any of the wet stuff here in the south since we get it rarely and have been in a drought since...oh, the summer of '62. So beggars can't be choosers, I realize. After all, it wasn't so long ago that Georgians and our southern neighbors had adopted the island philosophy of "If it's yellow, let it mellow..." Oh yes, the water shortage has gotten that bad.

But when it does rain, it never seems to fail that it's on the weekend. And today is one of those weekends. This morning, as I meticulously mapped out the details of my two week grocery shopping excursion (it takes a ton of planning to make a two week meal plan fly when you don't plan to return for any oops-forgotten items), my mother in law was perusing the channels looking for anything entertaining. A non-NASCAR weekend leaves our usual must-see TV open for alternatives. There isn't much. What she did stumble on was the Game Show network. Have you seen this thing? Lotta entertainment here.

And the show of the moment was Lets Make a Deal! This puppy brought back some serious memories. And before you go getting wise and making some crack about me attending this show in some ridiculous Little Bo Peep costume, you're wrong. I wasn't old enough to have attended the show when it was on; I was only preschool age. Me and my Little Bo Peep costume watched from home.

But what it really brings back memories of is the years at the Mid-America Trucking Show that we played Lets Make a Deal with attendees. As you likely know, the Mid-America Trucking Show is the granddaddy of all trucking shows--held each March in Louisville, Kentucky. It's three chrome-filled days with over 1,000 exhibitors showing off everything from shiny new trucks to small, fit-in-your-cab products, services, a truck beauty contest, media (magazines, satellite radio, WBAP), and a ton more. If you like trucking, your eyes will pop to see all that's squished into one convention center for three days in March. Just be ready to face thousands and thousands of folks who attend this thing. Between exhibitors and attendees, you literally cannot squeeze through the aisles to get anywhere with a purpose. I used to make it a game to see just how creative I could get to move from one end of the hall to the other. I may have ticked off a few exhibitors as I strolled through, feigning interest when really all I wanted was to take advantage of the vast open space of their booths to progress farther, quicker than the aisle would allow. My best time might have been 14.5 minutes to get from one end of the South hall to the far end of the west hall. My calves were screaming and I was wishing folks would throw out cups of water like they do marathon runners but that was damn good time to cover that kind of space with those kinds of obstacles. Thank you very much.

Anyway, one year, we came up with the idea to do a big giveaway sweepstakes at the show offering all sorts of products and items that had been donated to attendees at the show. We started by getting folks to register and then return at a set time for the drawings we scheduled throughout each day of the show. Too tough--no one, I mean no one returned. The show is just too big to have to plan to be back at a certain point by a particular time. We bagged that concept in a hurry. And I thought up my "Lets Make a Deal" scheme. Up I climbed onto a tall chair we had and used my gift of gab and a loud mouth to draw the folks over. I felt like a circus hawker calling over the rubes.

Once we had a fair amount of attention, I'd begin the whole who has a safety pin? First person to show me a safety pin will get this tshirt/coffee cup/satellite radio. Alright, now who has a photo of their child or grandchild? Or, who has the most children and grandchildren? Who can tell me Tony Stewart's nickname, or who the 1998 NASCAR Cup champion was. We had an absolute blast doing this periodically throughout the days of the show. The years we held this giveaway are just a few of the past 15 years worth of Mid-America's that I've attended and remember best.

Are you going to the show? It's next week. Same place--March 19-21. We're not playing Lets Make a Deal this year, but there is a concert by Aaron Tippin and the show will still offer all the gadgets, products, services and companies you could hope to check out in the span of three days. Be sure to come by and say hello to me @ Booth #69076. See you next week!

March 7, 2009

Shooting, Scoring & Losing Your Mind


It's the weekend and today was the first soccer game of the spring '09 season. It's Chase's 13th season and today, I behaved myself pretty well, if I do say so myself. 

Yeah, yeah, I used to hear about all the parents who would scream and get into fights with other parents at their kids' games and I'd think: tsk, tsk, grow up would you? But once it's your kid on the field getting pushed when the ref isn't looking or trying his hardest but having an off game that the other parents cheer a little too heartily over...you realize the insanity that takes over otherwise-sane adults. 

Chase is playing on a new team this season--a stepped up team, if you will. It's in between recreational ball and academy (travel) ball, giving us the best of both worlds: the professional coaching and training that academy teams receive but without the high cost, intense travel schedule, and yearlong commitment. We're excited about it but today was the first game for the new team that had never played together before. And we were playing an academy team that had been together at least since the start of the school year, if not longer.

We won 1 - 0. The only goal came from a Chase-assist to his old teammate William. I might have went a little berzerk when it happened; I can't be sure. The blood pounding in my head cause some slight dizziness and memory lapse. LOL But is there anything better than seeing your child, your offspring, the star in your sky succeed at something they try so hard at? I venture to say the answer to that question is a resounding Nope.

There have been so many soccer games in our life already. Chase will play any position but he excels on offense thanks to his speed and willingness to take the shot or find a teammate with a better opportunity. So he has quite few assists as well as goals to his name. Probably the coolest game of his life, he scored 5 of the team's 6 goals to take a shut-out win. And then there was his very first goal.

When Chase first began playing soccer at 4 years old, it looked like any other group of kids who aren't sure what to do other than follow the ball wherever it went on the field--all in one huddled mass. Amazingly, considering the atypical soccer strategy, the kids still managed to score some goals. But for all Chase's running and a whole lot of kicking, the ball just never seemed to go the direction of the goal. My heart broke for him because he tried so hard. We did a lot of teaching about playing for fun, being part of a team, etc. But still. The glory in soccer comes from scoring. At his final game of the season, the two teams played their usual game of crowding the ball and moving like a hovercraft slowly back and forth along the field. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Chase kicks the ball away from the group, runs it about 10 feet toward the goal, shoots and scores. 

I...Lost...My...Mind. I was jumping up and down, screaming, yelling, clapping, throwing my hands in the air like I was possessed. Or at a southern Baptist church revival. Naturally everyone was cheering but you could have heard me above a helicopter, had one landed there right then. 

When the noise finally settled, you could hear my husband behind me standing with some other parents remark: "Wow, who's mom is that?" We all fell apart laughing. But I tell you, every personal accomplishment paled in comparison to how it felt to see him finally get that elusive goal. I can still see him and his teammates run around the field with their arms out like airplanes, their tradition after any goal. 

We also won that game 1 - 0. And today, though there was no running around with arms out like airplanes and I've learned to control myself slightly more than then, the excitement was certainly no less. 

March 4, 2009

Need a Laugh?


These days, it seems laughter has disappeared as fast as our 401Ks. What with all the stress, freaking out, hair pulling, crying (is that just me?), who actually laughs anymore? But I saw something today that was so funny, even though I was in the midst of four crises and 15 regular daily events, I laughed out loud. Truthfully, I didn't bother watching this when it was first sent because I thought: Oh chil', I certainly don't have time for no entertainment today because the work is piling up faster than I can beat it down. But I was urged to take 25 seconds and watch it. It'd be worth my time. So I did. And I laughed until I cried. And that was the biggest stress-reliever.

So I want you to watch this. Don't give me any sass about not having time because we could all use a little laughter these days. You gotta see Bizkit:

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Is that hysterical? I gotta have that dog. I'm going to call the owner and see if she'll give him to me.

March 3, 2009

Be Noticed, Be Different


Hey, I received something so cool late last week and I've decided to share it with the world via this here lil' blog. I've worked with Trucker's Connection magazine for about 15 years now. If you're in trucking, you know this magazine. If you're not in trucking but you know me, you know this magazine. It's a magazine for truck drivers, coming out monthly, digest sized. You know, Reader's Digest, Golf Digest...altho somehow Golf Digest manages to call itself that while being a full size magazine. How does that work? Truth in advertising, anybody, anybody?

I digress. When I first came on board here, we used to feature a fancy, pretty, shiny truck driving down the road on each and every cover. We were original that way. Then we transformed into having topic-specific front covers. If the main feature inside were about money, we might have a driver standing with a wad of cash in his hand. If we were talking about who to trust to fix your rig, we'd have a guy waist deep under the hood on the cover. And in those years, we occasionally had an illustrator draw a front cover, still featuring an article inside, but we could be more clever because when you work with an artist, the sky's the limit.

We noticed quickly that the hand-drawn covers were wildly popular with drivers. Magazines flew off the racks when we had illustrations. And when you're in publishing, being noticed among all the competitors sitting alongside you is critical. These illustrated covers were different and we were noticed more because of them. So after a couple years, we made the genius leap to having every cover be illustrated. And that's where we are today. We have fun with these images--sometimes greatly exaggerating the theme of a feature, sometimes just capturing an idea in a way that a photo can't. To be noticed, be different. And that's what we are.

So I meet with my illustrator Joe every month to bounce ideas and sketch rough covers for consideration. And when he heard I'd started a blog, Joe did a caricature of me. Actually, this guy is known to sit in any public place and just start sketching on paper or even a napkin someone around him. He's very astute when it comes to bringing out the traits of someone's personality through features in the sketch. Take a look at my animated mug to the left. Here's a bigger shot:

caricature4

He's talented, right? And clearly thinks I have a much bigger rack than I actually do, but hey. Perks of knowing an illustrator. Ha! The two things I noticed (after the rack) were the size of my mouth and my hand gesturing. Ok, the hand thing I gotta give him because I'm Italian and absolutely always talk with my hands. I don't even realize I'm doing it until I hit someone nearby accidentally or knock over a drink of notoriously hot liquid. Hand-gesturing? Guilty.

But the mouth? What's the implication there? Big mouth. Of course, this is the typical female in me managing to turn something that might be intended as flattering into a derogative. "Wow, your hair looks great today" is heard in my mind as "Your hair typically looks like crap and yet you somehow managed to make something work with it today. Amazing." Right? Ladies? I'm not alone in this. "Have you lost weight?" I actually hear this a lot (thanks to my preference for comfy clothes rather than fitted stuff; I'm no slave to fashion) and I think it'd be a great complement if indeed I had lost weight. But since I haven't, it just means someone thought I was fat before. It's just the way my mind is wired. Turns out, Joe said my smile was one of the most eye-catching things about me so he played it up. Yeah, fast thinking.

Anyway, I thought it was a cool to have a snapshot of me in the same look of the book I've poured my heart and soul (and rack) into for so many years. And I thought it'd be cool to include it here. Now you now me, now you know the cartoon me and now you'll instantly recognize my magazine that I insist you pick up, read cover to cover and then call a few advertisers out of because that's who pays the bills.

And I'm going to give Joe a plug. If you're ever interested in a caricature of you, your kids (kids love these), for a birthday present, etc, check him out here: http://www.joedinicola.com/ or http://joedinacola.blogspot.com/ Ask him for the Big Rack Special; he'll know what you mean.

March 1, 2009

Getting Used to Nothing


It just never seems like the disaster of an economy is far from the minds of all of us, right? Many of you have shared with me different tricks you're implementing to buckle down and save pennies during this rocky time. I've heard everything from canceling cell phones or home phones to breaking down and car-pooling to a local job with that smelly neighbor whose favorite shirt features a certain yellow cartoon sponge to placing grocery shopping on a tighter budget, renting movies for entertainment rather than going to the theaters, eating in rather than so much eating out, and even canceling cable TV service. That's right people. You can actually survive without having 2,097 channels of television to occupy your time. Shocking, I know. I hope you were sitting down when you read that.

And that brings to mind another story. Last Wednesday was the beginning of Lent for Catholics everywhere. My family is originally Catholic but I personally wasn't raised Catholic and now, we choose to attend a protestant Christian church. So my son was questioning what Lent is and we offered a simplified explanation about giving up some activity or item as a way of honoring Jesus's 40 days and nights spent in the wilderness, resisting the Devil's temptations. Folks today give up things like chocolate, candy, soda, fried foods. Growing up, I used to try and take this time to give up cracking my knuckles simply because I hated that habit. And it was really bad for me; I could pop each finger five different ways. I know, very ladylike. But I thought if there was this challenge to give up a bad habit, I could stick with it. The fact that this is what I tried to give up for Lent for many years tells you just how successful I was. Apparently not even the church could keep this died-in-the-wool knuckle cracker on the straight and narrow.

Anyway, I told Chase about how his best friend's dad used to give up television when he was growing up. The look of sheer astonishment on his face was second only to the one on my husband's face; neither could comprehend a life without TV. Not just cable but no boob-tube at all. What would they do?! Once Chase recovered, he asked if they could just give up something they didn't like. Like brussel sprouts. Or going to bed on time. Or ice cream with nuts in it. Of course, we explained that's not exactly honoring God.

But it did make me think about how much we have all given up thanks to the change in economy and the uncertain future. You know, when it became apparent that the economy wasn't going to bounce right back (and then snub its nose at us while laughing with friends at how gullible we all were to believe it could actually be so bad), I was no different from most in lamenting the new life I was about to inhabit. One where you couldn't just run out and drop $50 to occupy your Saturday afternoon with 10 pins, a 10 pound ball and a bucket of brewskies because you felt like it and without consulting your entire financial statement to see if you could afford it. I envisioned a future where days passed slowly, chained to my couch and wishing I could go and do any number of things I used to (which all required blowing dough). But as I sit today, watching it snow outside (that's right, in Atlanta, snow--big, fat, white flakes that are wet and gross and just leave a soppy mess on the ground as opposed to the fluffy, dry white stuff that blankets the glorious slopes of Colorado), I'm pleasantly surprised at how used to doing nothing I've grown accustomed to. How nice it is to spend the weekends inside, snuggled on the couch in front of a roaring fire, with nowhere to be and no time to be there. Especially refreshing on a snowy day where going outside to do much of anything would be no fun a'tall. It's amazing, the life change.

So if you're just joining those of us who've reevaluated life and what it costs to live it, I'm here to tell you this non-bowling, non-movie-going life...it ain't so bad. Especially if you still have cable since it is, after all, NASCAR Sunday. Gentlemen, start your engines!