I Cannot Wrap My Mind Around It

This is yet another example of me wanting to ask, "Seriously?"

So a divorced woman in California has six children, the oldest is seven. (Seriously? Who has six children? What single mother has the resources for six children under age seven?) She and her children live with her parents. (Seriously? Adult moves back in with parents? Ok, I have to give her that one but I didn't bring six kids along.)

She decides she must have another child, hoping for another girl. (Seriously?) Alas, she is unmarried so she decides to undergo in vitro fertilization. (Seriously? Who is paying for that? What doctor would do that knowing her circumstances?) The quack doctor inserts multiple embryos and apparently most, if not all, take up camp. Once the multitude of future babies is discovered, the mother is offered "selective reduction" or some other glossy-phrased procedure to rid her body of too many babies. She checks the box that says, "No thank you very much." (Seriously?)

A team of 40-plus medical people delivered the babies. They thought there were seven, but surprise! there's an extra one. The mother is still recovering and the babies will be in the hospital for weeks or months. (Who is paying for this? Who will pay for the special needs that are almost certain to arise?)

In the paper the other day, the grandfather to these 14 children said something like this, "We're talking to the media now but we have a big house somewhere else and once we move there, no one will be able to find us." (Seriously? A woman with her parents AND her fourteen children will somehow become AWOL from the media?)

Her mother had the best comment (and I am paraphrasing,) "I wish she had just been a kindergarten teacher."

To top if all off, the mother filed for bankrupcy in 2008. Seriously.

Snow Days

We're still digging out from the 15-plus inches of snow we received Tuesday night and Wednesday. The city is slowly coming back to life but the first day was a nightmare for many.

The kindness of neighbors continues to amaze me. My father is no longer on the sick pillow but still recovering from pneumonia. Twice he's gone outside to shovel and neighbors run over to send him in the house. Even I have done some shoveling but when I told a friend, he didn't believe me.

Do you remember the feeling of waiting to hear if school was cancelled for the day? I swear a collective cheer could be heard throughout my childhood neighborhood once we knew it was a snow day. It was too dangerous to tromp to the bus stop or walk to school but we could be suited up and out to play in minutes. Sledding, making snow angels, building snowmen or just romping. It was all such fun. Although I will admit to being a weenie about sledding. High speed was never my goal and I always feared hitting a tree. Life can't be all fun -- I recall being knocked off a sled or two. Then it's take a break, have some cocoa, then bundle up for round two.

Snow days for adults have less appeal. We worry about straining our back while shoveling. Frankly, I worry about the old bird across the street who reshovels the end of her driveway. Is this really worth the risk at her age? When my prior oldies (the Belle and the Captain) lived with us, they could fall for no reason at all. Walking through the house was a fall waiting to happen. Yet this neighbor who is older than they were is out there on a mission.

We worry about the condition of the roads. We worry about other drivers. I am always certain I will get stuck and I usually do. Hot chocolate doesn't seem like enough of a reward for risking my life behind the wheel. Nine layers of clothing make most of us look and feel like the Goodyear blimp -- never my fashion goal.

I don't wish to be a child again but I wouldn't mind having a moment of the pure ecstasy associated with snow days.

But Wait, There's More!

Some days, I feel like I'm living in a bad infomercial. You know, the kind that make you want to throw things at the television.

I digress but my personal favorite right now is the Snuggie. It's beyond absurd. There's a great article in this week's Time Magazine about the Snuggie. My favorite quote from the article, taken from a rant on YouTube is this: "It's a bathrobe. That is really long. That you wear backwards."

Some parts of my life are ill fitting right now. Many things that I took for granted now seem backward. Many other things have proven cozy and comfortable... I just forgot for a while.

Who knows what's coming next? I'll keep plugging along. And when I've had enough, maybe I'll put my bathrobe on backwards.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

Can't do it. Or, won't do it. Whether it's literally or figuratively, I do not let sleeping dogs lie.

This is my dog, the Gabster, having tucked herself in bed for a little snooze. Well, I insist on petting her because she looks so darn cute. Then I pet her and talk to her. Then I take her picture and the flash annoys her.

When faced with an issue or life situation, I go to one of two extremes. I bury my head in the sand for a while or I ponder and discuss it to death. (Hmmm... Wonder where I got that little quirk?) Even when things are resolved, I want to bring it up again. Even when everyone involved has voiced his or her thoughts, I can't seem to let it lie. I've been accused of beating a dead horse. Is that the same as not letting sleeping dogs lie? All these animal metaphors get confusing to me.

I'm not even sure this is something I want to change about myself. Going over and over things helps me to understand and clarify. But I will try to leave Gabby alone when she's quietly enjoying her nap time.

Do Too Many Cooks Spoil the Broth?

My mother is an amazing cook. She's especially incredible with candies and desserts which is probably why I've never bothered much with those items. She does them to perfection and she shares.

I like to cook, especially when it's my idea. I like to try new things but like most of us, I rely on certain stand-by menus that I've made for years. I've also adapted many recipes over the years to make them easier. For instance, I refuse to boil a whole chicken, skin and debone it, etc. when I can poach a couple of chicken breasts and voila! .. on with the recipe.

Since living with my oldies recently, I have tried to help out. My mother works long and odd hours. She's picking up her nightly tapes around the time I used to start trying to figure out what to make for dinner. My offers of help are well received but it is also very clear that I do not do things her way. (It's a funny look on her face that gives me vivid flashbacks of my childhood.)

I also like really exotic things like mushrooms, which is repeatedly pointed out to me that I did not grow up eating. I steam vegetables and eat them crisp. Well, I used to. I do not like Miracle Whip. Ever. In Anything. Ever. I'm used to different spices that she swears I could not possibly like. If I use oil, it's usually olive oil. I don't think I've ever used that congealed Crisco in a can. (Of course, I'll eat whatever is cooked in it.)

As I said before, she is an amazing cook so no one in this house will ever be hungry. I'm still trying to help out but I'm paying attention to how it should be done.

We seem to have it down. She's happy to have help in the kitchen and I like to do it. In our case, two cooks in the kitchen make a tasty broth ... or whatever we decide to whip up.

Another Example of Why I Hate Birds

(Photo: MSN.com)

In case you missed an earlier post on my fear and loathing of birds, I'll recap. My crazy grandmother insisted birds were evil. She was superstitious. For example, she believed someone close to you would die if a bird gets in your house. Hitchcock's movie "The Birds" didn't help but most of the blame falls to my grandmother.

(Toward the end of her life she actually owned a bird and would answer the door with the bird perched on her head. I have yet to reconcile this in my mind.)

Occasionally I can admire the beauty of your feathered friends from the safety of indoors but that's about it. I have had complete hysterical attacks if a bird gets close to me on a beach. Someone once asked me to go on a hike with her so we could experience bird watching. She did not know me well and I did not go.

Last week I watched in amazement as the survivors of the US Air plane that crash landed in the Hudson were rescued. It was a miracle and the pilot, Chesley Sullenberger (Sully), is truly a hero.

Of all my quirks and idiosyncrasies, fear of flying does not make the list. "Cross check and call forward" is one of my favorite phrases. I have flown in commercial planes and private planes, teeny planes and jumbo jets. I flew the day they opened the skies after 9/11. (Yes, I looked for terrorists -- as if I would know how to identify one.)

Even with the bird threat, I would get on a plane today. But I will never take a hike to watch birds.

No Privacy

I'm watching two news people discuss the Caylee Anthony case, which continues to get more bizarre. Now they've discovered a heart sticker on the child's remains. The reporter is discussing the dream team of attorneys and forensic experts assembled for the defense and throws into the mix, " ... the Anthonys are deeply in debt." Probably the death of their granddaughter and the charges facing their daughter are top of mind. When the dust settles, will it really be necessary for the general public to know this factoid about their finances?

If you've ever made a late payment or missed a debt, you know what it's like to be tracked down like a dog. If you've been married before, creditors call anyone and everyone remotely associated with you, your exes, their exes, parents, etc. I recently received some junk mail for -- get this -- my husband's exwife's exhusband. This was just a stupid leaflet but I'm sure we've all received calls and mail for each other. Once a name or address changes on a document, anyone with access to your credit report can look up all kinds of information.

Remember the childhood threat of "Don't do that -- it will go on your permanent record." It's true; it just wasn't explained very well.

Facebook and other social networking sites allow us to connect but they also steal a bit of our privacy. I belong to some but I'm leery. I cringe at some of the things I see while browsing these sites. I'm a little "out there" with this blog but it's nothing incriminating to me or others. So what if you learn that I've lived my entire 40s with oldies. It's true and it's part of my permanent record.

Speaking of privacy, there is none for my oldies either. I know who's up in the middle of the night. I know all medical issues and medications partly because I"m nosy and partly because we discuss everything incessantly. I know when it's naptime because I walk around by myself, look at the clock and think, "Seriously?" (It's kind of like kindergarten when you could be happily coloring or playing a game and the teacher would announce, "Get your sleepy mat -- it's time to lie down." That always annoyed me.) Now I get frustrated because I never learned to nap. I can barely sleep at night.

Of course, my oldies know far more about me than they would like.

Butts and Guts

There is a huge sign in a strip center near my church that screams, "COLON AND RECTAL CARE." I don't know about you but I wouldn't be keen on going there for a diagnosis or treatment. I wouldn't even want to park near the sign.

My mother is a medical transcriber, a career I do not aspire to. (I've seen the hours and I might become suicidal listening to other people's medical histories.) Her primary physicians work in gastrointestinal (GI) practices in one of our country's premier hospitals. I have never been in their offices but I'm guessing there are no humongous Colon and Rectal Care signs.

In our silly moments, my mother and I refer to GI medicine as "Butts and Guts." Recently she's added a psychiatrist to her roster of physicians so now it's Butts, Guts and Nuts.

The Transition

Like most of you, I watched the inauguration today. I'm in awe of our country's ability to accomplish the smooth transition of power. Whatever your politics, you must admit it was an impressive scene and ceremony.

I hope our new president has a fraction of the energy displayed by his younger daughter. She does not walk -- she prances and dances, she bounces with enthusiasm. I hope he has his eye on the ball as often as his older daughter has her eye on the crowds. I love it that she carries her camera to all the festivities, as if there will be no record of this historic time without her personal documentation.

I hope Michell Obama never perfects the political wife standard look of idiotic and mindless devotion. I like it that she seems determined and down to earth. She seems like someone who will not wear a lot of false fronts.

I went to the official website of the white house this morning and viewed several pages. Shortly after noon today, the site changed seamlessly to represent our new president and his administration. The first official blog post was there. (www.whitehouse.gov)

So, here we go. The eyes of the world are upon us. The transition was smooth. Let the real work begin.

Forty-Seven Years

As I sit here, separated from my husband and living with my oldies, it is not lost on me that I have not excelled at marriage.

My oldies (my incredible parents) were married 47 years ago today. They continue to be living examples of what a marriage should look like. It's not all roses and sweetness. It's a quiet devotion and respect of each other. It's love and concern that truly wants the best for each other. It's snapping in frustration and snapping out of the mood or the attitude before ugly things are said. It's Honor with a capital H.

Sometimes I watch them ... I've been doing it for years. I was born 17 months after their marriage and I've been studying them my entire life. Of course they have had their struggles and rocky times. Even in those circumstances, they somehow remain steadfast in their union.

We all know it takes two people to make a strong marriage just like it takes two people to screw it up. We're supposed to believe that no problems are insurmountable. Sorry, I don't believe that anymore.

I do believe shining examples of strong and healthy marriages are all around us. I live here. I see it every day.

Time to Cowgirl Up

The girlfriends are headed to Zona today for our annual trip to Big Sal's gorgeous Western home. A couple of us can't go this year but we're there in spirit.

I was reminded of a western expression this morning. While speaking about the economy and the enormous challenges facing our nation, someone said, "It's time for all of us to cowboy up." I immediately thought of the women pictured above. They have "cowgirled up" in big ways.

Some have dealt with illness and death with parents or in-laws. Some have watched the baby leave the nest. Some have carried the worry load over health issues with loved ones while jumping into action. In the two years since this photo was taken, some of our lives have changed dramatically -- in good ways too. There have been business ventures and new grandchildren. Many happy moments with family and friends. These women, and many others I know, choose to soldier on and they usually do it with a ton of class.

Tomorrow is Obama's inauguration and like millions of people, I will watch and listen. I'm sure his speech will be uplifting but he's given enough statements for us to know it will also be filled with warnings of tough times ahead. Frankly, I feel like I've been cowgirling up for a while now. But I will plod ahead. I may put on my cowboy boots, toast my girls in Zona and psyche myself up for a tougher cowgirl attitude.

Drugged Out

Just one of the many fun things about returning to live in my childhood home is running across relics from the past. The book above is just one of the many I have discovered. I remember reading it in the early 70s and I remember my oldies discussing it with me. In fact they continued to have the good drug v. bad drug discussion with me through my college days.

My father is still on the sick pillow. The doctor said he may continue to feel lousy while his body recovers. So, even though the antibiotic pills (usually a good drug) are done for now, he still has trouble sleeping which he needs for his recovery.

For sleep aid, the doctor prescribed something heavy duty. The kind that the pharmacist scans your eyes and your face trying to judge if you plan to sell these on the street. The kind that would not just make you forget to feed your baby -- you would forget that you had a baby.

This may be a good drug for some people but it was a bad drug for my father. He was hallucinating and having horrible nightmares. He had trouble breathing from the panic. One pill did not a good night make.

Obviously he requested a different medication and it seems to be working. Good drug! He slept well last night and has been dozing all day. He already looks better thanks to some well-needed rest. The only side effect from the new drug (other than he might not stop sleeping for the next week) is he's grasping for the proper word. He asked my mother what one of the dog's name is. When he's awake, he's grinning a lot. I attended a gathering for a friend's mother's recent death. When I came home, my father asked me, "How was the furniture?"

Then he gave me a hug and said, "See you at dinner." My mother's theory is as long as his appetite remains constant, she's not worried.

Indiana in the National News Again

(Photos from MSN.com)



This is Marcus Schrenker, the guy who parachuted out of his plane over Georgia and allegedly staged his own death. Unfortunately for him, he forgot that most dead people don't allow themselves to be photographed while they are retrieving their motorcycle from storage and they don't send emails to a neighbor proclaiming innocence. He has been captured now in Florida and is expected to be charged with a variety of crimes across several states.

(Usually when someone from Indiana makes the national news it is almost guaranteed to be someone who meets the following criteria:

No teeth or very bad teeth;
Obese;
Badly dressed;
Horrible grammar;
Standing in front of a shack, usually with multiple lawn ornaments and a car or two on cement blocks.

The best part in our national portrayal is these people are not criminals. They're witnesses to something horrific whether it's a crime or a natural disaster.)

Talk about a bad couple of days. In addition to the failed attempt to stage his death and disappearance, Schrenker just buried his stepfather and his wife has sued him for divorce, claiming infidelity. He's also questioned and accused of some investment shenanigans that clients and the government both frown on. Just one of these things might send someone reeling but the whole house of cards seems to be collapsing.

He isn't toothless or obese. Until recently he seemed to have it all: a multi-million dollar home, a beautiful wife and three children, fun toys like expensive boats, cars and planes, etc. He doesn't need to witness a disaster -- he's living one.

Alright Already

I have long had my issues with the religious right wing and their various movements. Of course, I recognize this is odd since I share many of their beliefs. When my feathers are ruffled, I ask myself why. Is it because they are infringing on my beliefs or just my right to believe otherwise? Is it the militant style of "my way or the highway" that turns me off? Am I blaming the masses for the hypocrisy I have witnessed in a few?

I am a religious person. I do not cram it down anyone's throat. I do not believe that my denomination or belief system makes me a better person. (In fact, I believe my faith is a balm for my endless weaknesses.)

There's no escaping the debate. Should Rick Warren be performing the invocation for Obama's inauguration? Will the Middle East ever find peace without addressing religious freedom? How can other countries insist on policies around the world that hold different and wildly varying beliefs? Should our politicians pray before opening a meeting? Should "under God" stay in the Pledge of Allegiance?" Should our currency continue to be minted with "In God we Trust?" Does that make our dollar invalid when an athiest uses it?

Politics and religion have been partners and opponents since the beginning of time. I don't have the answers to these questions but I am equally certain the right wing conservatives don't have a direct line to God any more than I do.

A Steak and Some Rock & Roll

Today the birthday of two famous men. Rod Stewart turns 64 and he's still belting out the tunes. He's avoiding oldieville quite successfully. George Foreman turns 60 today. He's fathered approximately 120 children -- all of them named George -- while making tons of money as a boxer and then ultimately with the George Foreman Grill. (I think there are as many versions of the grill as he has children.)

I have seen Rod Stewart in concert so many times I have lost count. I still listen to him on my iPod. And of course, I love my George Foreman grill. In some small way, it's an example of how our lives touch each other.

Are You Ready?

Did you know that digital television signals will replace analog signals next month? Did you know if you do not have cable, a satellite dish or a converter box your television with the rabbit ears will not work with the new signals? If you do not know this, you do not watch television and you must live under a rock.

I counted the other day. There were 14 announcements about this conversion. Ellen has a promo. So does Oprah. There are public service announcemtns throughout programming. They mention it on practically every newscast. It's in the newspaper on a regular basis.

Few people enjoy as much television as I do. I have it on for specific programs and I leave it on for background noise. But I'm almost convinced that the Second Coming would generate less press.

Hurry Up and Wait

Lately life, and I'm not just talking about mine, seems to be filled with waiting. As a person with limited patience, I find this maddening. Some of this is out of anyone's control. If a friend is waiting for test results or anxious about an upcoming appointment, all the pacing in the world isn't going to make the outcome happen sooner.

But here's the other thing I've noticed. Some of the busiest people are the most responsive. Years ago, I worked with the then-president of The Indiana Heart Hospital. Over the course of our business relationship, he traveled extensively. I was constantly checking the time in Asia and other far away locales before I would leave a voice mail. Regardless of the message or email, I always heard from him within hours. He has since moved to a new position in Arizona and I received an email (from his assistant) with his new contact information. This email went to hundreds of business associates. I sent him a quick email wishing him well in the new year -- I heard from him within the hour. No wonder he's so successful.

I always try to give people the benefit of the doubt... they must be overwhelmed with business or phone calls or life. Some days I succeed but today I have not.

On The Sick Pillow

Whatever the ailment might be, my oldies and I refer to it as being "on the sick pillow." The unwritten rules are:

You may (and are encouraged to) stay in bed.

Napping is mandatory.

You are allowed to choose the menu based on what sounds good and what you think your stomach will tolerate.

All household chores are removed from duty; you have no duties.

You get the television remote.

Ice cream is encouraged -- you must keep up your strength!

You may bathe but then it's fresh pjs and right back in bed.

You get to decide if the house is too warm or too cold.

People must come to you instead of you getting up and walking to them.

My father has been on the sick pillow since Saturday afternoon. All rules are in full force. My mother is a little suspicious that he enjoys being on the sick pillow and might milk it a bit. I don't know if he enjoys it but two little dogs are reveling in it.

MotherAunt and SisterCousin

Some of my favorite memories involve my aunts. Connie and Judy are my mother's sisters and have been a constant presence in my life. They used to babysit me, take me along on their dates, dress me up like a doll, etc. Note to Aunt Connie and Aunt Judy: Feel free to buy me pretty dresses any time.) The first time I got on a plane was to visit my Aunt Cess and her family. (Note to Aunt Cess: I still love to visit you and my cousins.) I still have frequent conversations with all of them.

The ladies posing in front of the tree are/were another generation of my mother's side of this wacky family. I can say that because I am also wacky. Front and center in this circa 1988 photo is Zelma (Bobbie,) my grandmother great aunt. Like many families, it was not uncommon for more than one sister to participate in rearing another's child/children. Grandma (on the left) gave birth to my mother and her sisters but Bobbie raised them.

Aunt Ann (next to Grandma) is the baby. She's always had the legs of a woman half her age. She and Uncle Harry have always lived nearby -- sometimes just down the street. Aunt Ann's daughters were my idols when I was in grade school. I didn't want to be like them -- I actually wanted to be them. Since I couldn't accomplish that, I would copy their mannerisms, their clothes, etc. I get to see them this weekend and I can't wait. No one laughs or makes me laugh like my Aunt Ann.

Aunt Jo (other side of Bobbie) died several years ago. I can't say I knew her well but she and my grandmother were thick as thieves. They might have been thieves for all I know; they walked a little bit on the wild side. Like my grandmother, Aunt Jo had some assistance from a sister in raising some of her children.

Aunt Hazel and Uncle Bob's (far right) youngest child is about my age. I used to go over for sleepovers with her. Aunt Hazel declared me, "Best Eater." Her children all had issues with vegetables or phobias about one food touching another on the plate. I was taught to eat whatever was put in front of me, especially at someone else's house. I'll have to let Aunt Hazel know that I still am a pretty good eater. It helps that all of the women of this generation are/were amazing cooks. Most, if not all, of their daughters are too.

Aunt Wanda and Aunt Grace died before the photo above was taken but I still have vivid memories of them too.

From a family of 13 children, (most of them pictured in the photo above taken in 1934) a large and blended family has emerged. I see parts of personalities that remained true their entire lives. Bobbie is sitting in a proper and ladylike way on the porch. She remained a pillar of strength and ladylike kindness her entire life. Grandma is sitting alone at the other end of the porch on the swing. She often removed herself from people and situations.

Each generation since then has become a little more fragmented but many of us are closer than ever. Can you imagine the two people sitting on that porch swing in the 1934 photo (my great grandparents) being told that in a few short generations, their offspring would travel by plane or communicate regularly through computers and cell phones. What if someone had told them that I would learn of my cousin's new job through a text message? While posing with their children, imagine if someone had told them that in 2009, their great granddaughter would take 10 seconds to scan this photo and write about their legacy.

Some people have mothers who they find out later is really grandmother. Some people have sistercousins and brothercousins. Some people go far into adulthood before finding out that mother is really auntmother. Our family has some of those mixed relationships. For the most part we don't hide it; we embrace it. There's enough love to go around and then some.

Where's the Cord?

Here's just one of the reasons I am terrified of electronics: there are too many cords. Especially with computers -- cords (or a wireless connection which I think still has a cord somewhere) for printers, mouse, etc. If I want to download photos, I have to find the cord that goes between the camera and the computer. Same with my iPod.

I can operate most household electronics; I just can't set them up. In days past you had to connect the television to cable and then set up the VCR and the DVD player. Now people have Blue Ray, which I have no clue what it is except it's the newest generation of a way to watch movies. Some people can set up elaborate stereo systems and surround sound. Not me.

I'm pretty good at figuring out remotes, computer software and recording programs through various electronics. I just need someone whose brain is wired differently than mine to deal with the set up and find the cords.

Winter Vacations

I wasn't able to vacation last winter -- I don't think two trips to Mississippi to bury the Belle and the Captain count as fun getaways. For a wide variety of reasons, I won't be taking any fun jaunts this winter either. As long as I can remember, I've looked forward to winter trips. Indiana winters can be brutal and endless gray days make for endlessly gray moods.

I have been so blessed with travel opportunities over the years. Friends with second homes in warm weather cities have welcomed me many times. (Southwest Florida is Ditto Indiana -- it's practically impossible to vacation there and not run into someone you know.) I have also traveled on business and tagged along with the husband any time I was allowed. Over the weekend, several of our couple friends left on a 7-day cruise and I'm jealous. In a couple of weeks, the workout girls head to Zona. Memories of great times will have to warm me this year.

I've never understood adults who vacation in the summer. I'm not talking about family vacations while the children are out of school but couple time or girlfriend trips.

Indiana is plenty nice for most of the year but in January, February and March, I'm constantly itching to get out of Dodge. Maybe next year.

Resolutions

It's 2009. Did you make resolutions?

In years past, I attended a New Year's Eve party with friends and at some point during the evening, everyone was to list a resolution for him or herself (unsigned) and drop it in the hat. After midnight, we read them aloud and guessed who resolved what. Lots of the people at the parties were extremely creative types and it made the game more fun.

New Year's does not usually feel like a fresh start to me. Even though I'm a few decades past school age, the back-to-school time always gives me that feeling. But this year is different in good and awful ways. So with that frame of mind, I'm making a few resolutions that I will keep private and I'm making a list that I will share:

1. I may cut back in other food groups but I will eat ice cream anytime I feel like it.

2. Laughter is contagious and I will be a carrier.

3. Instead of feeling weird when faced with that married/single/divorced option on forms, if I check "Divorced" I may add, "AGAIN!"

4. I will not let the awkwardness of being a fifth wheel keep me from gatherings.

5. I will happily say no to things I do not wish to do. No excuses. I'm just not going to do it, thank you for asking.

6. If someone asks me a nosy question, I will remind myself that I am under no obligation to answer.

7. I will guard my reputation in situations I can control. I will be at peace with my character by the decisions I control. What I can't control, I will let go.

8. I will not assume the best about people who have taken the time and energy to show me their worst.

9. I will remember that no one knows me better than me so it's probably best if I speak for myself.

10. With the exception of black pants, black skirts and white shirts, I will remind myself that owning two (or more) of certain things is excessive. (Sorry, no one can own too many black pants.)

11. I will not look in the mirror at my lines with dismay. I will say, "I laughed and I cried. I have earned these wisdom lines -- many with an awful cost. Hi me! Let's see what adventures we can have this year."

12. I will embrace the road ahead of me while hugging the bumps that led me here.

13. I will never again again think I have the power to change someone.

14. I will volunteer more.

15. I will approach conflicting opinions with an open mind. Convince me. Show me what I have not considered. If you can do it with humor, you are guaranteed my attention.

2009 is a blank slate, ripe with opportunity. Happy New Year.