Toxic

I’ve had it.  I’m tired of hearing people criticizing Gillette.  The dent made in the bottom line of all those people who will not buy Gillette razors is minuscule.  They complain about the message:  Toxic masculinity.  Can we agree that people fighting at Iwo Jima and Iraq and Viet Nam were not examples of toxic masculinity?  Can we agree that men that like to hunt and target shoot are not examples of toxic masculinity?  Can we agree that you don’t have to be male to be toxic?  Most of the people I see getting all up in arms about the ad are posting memes that have NOTHING to do with toxicity!

Remember that song, “Bad Boys?”  Bad bad bad bad boys, make me feel so good.  Boys will be boys.  There’s something dangerous about a guy that doesn’t follow the mores of the culture.  In the song, the girl is attracted to this.  How long do you think she’d be attracted if he decided to rape her?  How long would she go along with his rule breaking when he started cheating on her?  If he’s a jerk in one situation, could he be a jerk in others?  OF COURSE!  What is toxic?  We’ve determined that gentlemen don’t rape, they don’t beat up women, they play by the Marquess of Queensbury rules… (thank you Wikipedia)

1. To be a fair stand-up boxing match in a 24-foot ring, or as near that size as practicable.
2. No wrestling or hugging allowed.
3. The rounds to be of three minutes’ duration, and one minute’s time between rounds.
4. If either man falls through weakness or otherwise, he must get up unassisted, 10 seconds to be allowed him to do so, the other man meanwhile to return to his corner, and when the fallen man is on his legs the round is to be resumed and continued until the three minutes have expired. If one man fails to come to the scratch in the 10 seconds allowed, it shall be in the power of the referee to give his award in favour of the other man.
5. A man hanging on the ropes in a helpless state, with his toes off the ground, shall be considered down.
6. No seconds or any other person to be allowed in the ring during the rounds.
7. Should the contest be stopped by any unavoidable interference, the referee to name the time and place as soon as possible for finishing the contest; so that the match must be won and lost, unless the backers of both men agree to draw the stakes.
8. The gloves to be fair-sized boxing gloves of the best quality and new.
9. Should a glove burst, or come off, it must be replaced to the referee’s satisfaction.
10. A man on one knee is considered down and if struck is entitled to the stakes.
11. That no shoes or boots with spikes or sprigs (wire nails) be allowed.^[6]
12. The contest in all other respects to be governed by revised London Prize Ring Rules.

These made sure the fighting was a sport, and not a murder with spectators.  King Arthur came up with the rules of Chivalry according to legend.  How to treat people with respect was of great import!  But if you consider this, remember that there would not have had to have been rules written down if people were currently behaving that way.  If people are already stopping at the corner, you don’t need a stop sign.  Why do you suppose they had to have the 10 commandments written in STONE?  Because someone with a stylus and ink could have added and changed those rules?  Most certainly.

Boys WILL be boys.  They fight, they wrestle, they like to join gangs to give them a feeling of belonging and power.  They like to exercise that power over weaker opponents–male or female.  They have to be TAUGHT to be men.  Men treat others with respect.  Men help people in trouble.  Men will do what is needed to support and protect their families.  Men have to teach boys not to bully.  Men have to teach boys to think with their heads when dealing with women.  That was one of the goals for Boy Scouts:  teaching boys how to be men.

Girls will be girls.  Wait.  What?  Girls are never toxic.  *stands on sarcasm button*  They fight with words, and they can also get physical.  They can be just as mean as boys.  They can manipulate girls and boys and adults, and that gives these girls a feeling of power.  Some manipulate with the choice of clothing they wear; some by the connections they have with groups, and some by sheer physical prowess.  They need to be taught by women how to treat others, how to help, how not to bully.

Do you suppose that if men didn’t react to women dressing provocatively they’d start dressing differently?  Do you think that if no one reacted to gossip on FaceBook or Instagram or in study hall, they might not gossip?  Women dress for everyone but themselves.  They spend 2 hours on their hair, make-up, and clothes to go to Walmart for birthday cards?  What sense does that make?

I once went with some Girl Scouts on a backpacking trip.  My troop of girls packed their backpacks with clothes, tools, camping dishes and stuff.  When we got to the site, we had our tents up and everything set up in a matter of minutes.  In visiting the girls from the other troops, we saw curling irons and make-up.  There were no mirrors at the site, and no electricity.  In fact, there was a two-holer for the toilet, no shower, no bathtub, no sink.  There weren’t any other groups on this trip.  Who were they dressing up for?  City folk.

So if girls dress for everyone else, why do they dress the way they dress and then walk past a construction site and are offended by what the guys say?  Isn’t that precisely why they dressed that way?  Now if the guys are toxic, they’d catcall a grandmother in a sweat suit.  In fact there was a rape case in the UK where the prosecutor didn’t pick up on that aspect.  The defense counselor claimed that the girl wanted to have sex because she was wearing a thong.  If it were true that the girl only wore the thong because she wanted sex, how would the RAPIST know what she was wearing for underwear?  So the prosecutor and the defendant both displayed toxic masculinity.  What if the grandmother in the sweat suit was wearing a thong?

I think that instead of worrying about being politically correct, people should think about having good manners!  A gentleman doesn’t make cat calls.  A lady doesn’t engage in gossip for the sole purpose of destroying a rival.  Parents watching kids fight break them up and show them how to arm wrestle.  They don’t sit on the sidelines with their grills and say “Boys will be boys will be boys…” over and over.  I do not know a single man that would do that!

So there are 2 motivations for someone to be a jerk.  The first is to gain power in their circle of friends or tribe.  The second is…because they can.  They have power and they choose to use and abuse that power because it feels good and no one will call them on the carpet for that behavior.  Gillette just called them on the carpet.  What surprises me is the vehemence that is being unloaded on Gillette.  The arguments make no sense and a great many times are like that riddle.  (as seen on the Tick, an old TV series)

Q: If you’re driving down the ocean in your jet ski, and the wheel falls off, does it still take the same amount of pancakes to cover a doghouse?
A: Purple because ice cream has no bones.

We must end toxic masculinity, and toxic femininity.  You can’t take my guns.  See?  The 2 sentences have nothing to do with each other.  Neither does the picture of the veterans from some war with a slogan that indicates that their toxic masculinity is why we don’t speak German or Japanese.  Also makes no sense.

Toxic masculinity is when they use their guns to take over a bar and steal all the booze. Toxic masculinity is when, after the armed forces take the village, they rape all the women and kill the men and boys.  So all males are NOT toxic, and neither are all females.  It doesn’t have to be a rape culture or a toxic patriarchy.  We actually can control that.  STOP BEING JERKS.

 

Here comes the Sun…Snow

“Here Comes The Sun Snow”

Here comes the snow, (do n do do) Here comes the snow
And I say it’s all right (shoveling, shoveling, shoveling, shoveling, then a snowman!)

Little darling, it’s been a long dry lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the snow, (do n do do) Here comes the snow
And I say it’s all right (shoveling, shoveling, shoveling, shoveling, then snow fort!)

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the snow, (do n do do) here comes the snow
And I say it’s all right (shoveling, shoveling, shoveling, shoveling, snowball fights!)

Snow, snow, snow, here it comes (They said it!  Schools are now closing)
Snow, snow, snow, here it comes (They’re planning! Trucks are out sanding)
Snow, snow, snow, here it comes (Forecasters!  Using statistics)
Snow, snow, snow, here it comes  (They promised!  6 to 8 inches)
Snow, snow, snow, here it comes  (Where is it?  One or two flakes now?) 

Little darling, I see the brown grass is emerging
Little darling, it seems the sled is still unused.

Here comes the snow, (checking radar) here comes the snow?
And they lie, it’s all clear (waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting, anxiously)
Here comes the snow, (satellite view) here comes the snow? And they lie, It’s all rain, (drizzle and drizzle and drizzle and drizzle, then it freezes)

No snowflakes, (scraping and cursing and slipping and falling, maybe next week…)

(Checking the forecast for 10 days out, maybe Thursday…)

apologies to Lennon and McCartney and all the school kids and teachers.

STFU syndrome

Yes, it’s exactly what you think.

There comes a time when after years of mistakes and challenges and work-arounds that you know some of the miscues, some of the bunny trails, quite a few of the misguided “tips” to avoid.  You are now WISE!  Tada!  You see someone heading down the wrong path and aha!  you can help them avoid that trap that you ran into 20 years ago.  You see someone about to make a disastrous decision and you can step in and show the consequences of their decisions.  Given this vital information, they might make a better decision.  You see someone taking advice from someone who’s out to defraud them, or is completely ignorant of the subject (read “I found it on Facebook so it has to be true”) and you have information that would clear up any misdirection.

For the love of everything holy, DON’T TELL THEM!  Keep the information to yourself.  Do not offer any advice.  When consequences go unchecked and they find themselves in a deep dark hole, do not say “I told you so!”  When you see your friends, relatives, heck, even enemies heading off the path, wave and wish them luck.  They don’t see any benefit to your being older, having more experiences, having more information, having more success.  They are not unintelligent.  They are ignorant.  They have the information they need, they just ignore it.  Then they pretend that they didn’t ignore it and that the information, though valuable, was not timely or indeed was not even plausible.

STFU.

Unintended Consequences–Thanos snapped

So if you don’t know, Thanos, the big bad scary planet eater (Talk about KETO diet!!!) has acquired all 6 of the infinity stones.  He has a gauntlet that holds them and the result is that when he snaps his fingers, 1/2 of all the living creatures in the universe just disappear into dust.  This includes SHIELD, and the Avengers, and normal people, and all the weird aliens in Guardians of the Galaxy movies, and Aasgard…  Now they’ve reduced all our favorite heroes to a manageable number, and all our favorite villains as well.  But…there are always unforeseen consequences.

Picture a middle school.  Mrs. Hightower has just announced a grammar quiz.  She disappears into dust.

Picture a guy in a race car sitting with his window down, about to get a massive ticket.  Policeman disappears.

The bottom layer of the pyramid of cheerleaders disappears.

The pitcher is throwing a shut out and the batter disappears.

The robbers of the bank are disappointed when the bank manager with the safe combination disappears.

Housewife is vacuuming floor and husband gets sucked in.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded…dust pile?”

“If you don’t have that report on my desk in 5 min, you’re fi….”  poof!

Donald is starting to sign the wall bill into law and disappears.

Russia’s FSB disappears and now there are several US government positions that need to be filled.

The cop is cornered in the alley and the drug dealers disappear.

Joel is talking about the rapture and 1/2 of his congregation disappears, and he doesn’t.

Call center for Missing Persons is suddenly understaffed and all the lines are lighting up.

You’re on a crowded plane and the big sweaty guy in the middle seat disappears.

You look out the window on your plane and discover that all the luggage is falling onto the tarmac.

Your stewardess comes over the intercom and says that for some reason, the pilot, copilot and navigator are missing.  It could be a rough landing.

The runner in 3rd place discovers the 1st 2 have disappeared.

“I can’t believe it!  I’ve just cured cancer!  I need to write this down…”  poof!

The nuclear launch codes have been issued, and one of the key operators disappears (with his key.)

Westborough Baptist protesters are surprised to find the funeral attendees have disappeared.

Zombies are disappointed.

Tom Cruise and Simon Peg’s scene in Mission Impossible 12 gets cut short.  No cameramen or stunt doubles.

Ohio State Marching Band doesn’t have a dot for its I.

Now, “You and what army?” takes on an ominous meaning.

All the mimes disappear.  Nobody notices.

All the Macy’s day Balloons are now untethered.

The Metropolitan production of Aida is cancelled.

All Universal Life Insurance salesmen disappear.

All the 2nd violinists in the Chicago Symphony disappear.  Like the mimes, they’re not missed.

Half the Chiefs disappear during half-time of the championship game.  Their performance doesn’t change.

Strange blogger is noting unusual consequences of Thano’s finger snap and doesn’t finish her

 

 

 

 

 

Let it all Hang out!

There is this inspirational poster making the rounds.

Wear your fancy lingerie.

Light those candles!

Use the good china!

Drink the Champagne!

Don’t wait!  You don’t know how much time you have left.

How inspirational.

Take things that are special and make them common.  Don’t save the chocolate cake for birthdays.  Don’t take care of the china that your mom passed on to you; serve hamburgers on it.  Buy NOTHING but fancy lingerie and wear it when you’re working in the garden.  Light all the candles in the house regardless of the scent…and the fire hazard.

We’ve taken traditionally special things and made them not matter any more.  A portrait used to be only for the rich, and they had to sit for days while the artist painted in all the nuance and the secret smile that reflected on your inner self.  Click!  Selfie!  Click!  Another selfie!  So portraiture is not important or special.

We used to have champagne flutes and beer steins to give the liquid a special feel and smell.  Solo cups are OK, now.  As long as there’s alcohol in the cup and it is strong enough to get you drunk, it doesn’t matter how it’s served.  We don’t enjoy the taste of the beverage, it is just a means to an end–getting so blasted you don’t remember or care what you drank to get to that point.

Fixing dinner for your family was an act of love, and the smells filled the house.  The food was shared along with the events of the day.  It was a time to connect to your siblings and parents and aunts and uncles and grandparents…  Now it’s what you do in the car on your way some place.  Food is what you order to eat during football/baseball/basketball games on TV.  We don’t just eat, we have to eat and be entertained at the same time.  We don’t like silence much.  Turning on the TV is easier than talking at the dinner table.  You’ve seen people out to dinner at a nice restaurant and everyone at the table is texting or playing games on their phones.  They are not talking to each other.  Eating together is not important or special now and neither is cooking.

Church was where you went to worship, and you dressed up.  It was a solemn occasion with prayer, hymns, and a rousing sermon.  After church, there was the church in the parking lot.  You socialized with people you only saw on Sundays and got caught up.  You went to the graveyard next to the church and visited the departed.  There were potluck dinners served for special occasions and funerals.  That was your community and your social circle.  Now, people skip church to go to soccer games.  The elders of the church will wear jeans to services.  Hymns that used to put scripture to music to help the masses remember the verses now are repetitive phrases that say how good their God is.  It might be seen as more meditative because of the chant-like quality of the words, but the main message of the words is that we get to define God in a way that meets our criteria as a super being that gives us anything we want if we write a big enough check.

Weddings?  Don’t get me started.  Too late.  We’ve made the circus of the wedding so important that it sometimes causes the divorce.  Yes, the wedding may be one of the most important days of your life, but it’s not the flowers, or the band, or the pictures, or the honeymoon.  It is the commitment to each other.  We’ve gone and made the actual marriage “just a piece of paper” that gives us rights and privileges in the sight of the law.  Whereas the wedding is so important that people will be in debt for decades to pay for it.  That makes the couple committed to the bank, not to each other.  So the marriage–the important part of the relationship–is unimportant, but the wedding–the show that goes with the celebration that the couple that’s been living together for 5 years is finally legitimate–is more important than any other single event in the couples’ lives.  If the wedding is so important, why did they live together and have a child together before they got wedded?  Oh…because marriage is just a piece of paper.

Why is the TV the biggest object in the house and placed in the most prominent location?  Because conversation is not important.  Having people on an island sniping at each other and planning each other’s demise in full high definition clarity and color is of the utmost importance.

So I ask you this:  Why wear the fancy lingerie, use the fancy china, light the fancy candles, and use the nice crystal for real champagne when you wear jeans to church and sweatsuits at home, never cook, do nothing but watch TV, drink whatever is alcoholic in the house just to get drunk and pass out, and never talk with your families.

I say KEEP SOME THINGS SPECIAL!  You wear that dress only when…  You break out the good china when…  You light the fancy candles because…  There ARE special occasions.  Keep them special.

Prayer for a Preschool

Hold me
Hug me
Kiss me
Love me

Calm her
Breathe
Soothe him
Breathe

Feel my heart
Hear my song
Fall into my voice
Rock with me

Swaying
Singing
Holding
Cuddling

Smile
Point
Look
Laugh

I love you
Baby
I love you
Child

Not so merry maids…

One of my students, a good friend of mine at the tender age of ahem ahem, suggested I get a cleaning service to help out.  I got brave and called and a very very nice lady named Marian answered and got my information.  She paused when, after she asked me about whether it was dusting on a regular basis, I laughed.  I am rather depressed about the condition of my house.  If you ever watch “Hoarders” they haven’t anything on me.  So she proposed that she come in and see what needed to be done.  The poor woman nearly ran screaming from the house.  She was talking about dusting and organizing and vacuuming, and I was thinking chiseling, shoveling and a large dumpster…or 2.

She didn’t leave me high and dry however…she left me the number of an arsonist and an explosives expert.

Well, I’m having my bathroom remodeled so that’s not going to happen.  Then she suggested I get a deep-clean company to work on one room at a time, and once they have cleaned the detritus out, I could call her back to do dusting and vacuuming and organizing…  I’m picturing a large van with guys in hazmat gear and a flamethrower.

With Great Power…

seths.blog/2019/01/the-spiderman-paradox/

With great power comes great responsibility.

With great responsibility comes great power.  Why don’t more people seek it?  Seek responsibility!  Help out with the Boy/Girl scouts.  Become the librarian for the community band.  Join the library board.  Run for school board.  Do you have a special talent or interest that can benefit your community?  Why not contribute?  Why not teach a finance class?  Why not start a walking club?  Why not teach an immersive language course?  Why not write a book?

People wait around for someone “More Qualified” to do something because there’s stuff they’d rather do.  Like what?  You work, and then come home, and not work.  We don’t cook anymore because it’s easier to have it at your finger tips in a minute or so in drive through than to get out the pots and pans and actually have some food in the fridge.  We don’t join clubs anymore because we can Facebook or tweet or Instagram instead of actually getting together with people.  We don’t go to church because we can watch Hallmark movies (and we don’t have to sing!)  We can scream our outrage with memes and political rants and then claim “Not My President!” because we didn’t vote for anyone.  We also didn’t run for office.  “If we don’t take responsibility, we don’t have to take the blame,” we think.  Wrong.  The responsibility is still there.  If we shirk the responsibility off to someone else, it is a choice that we will be judged on.  Could you have done a better job?  If so, why didn’t you take the job?

Yes, it is stressful.  Yes it requires diplomacy.  Yes it requires the best of you: your intellect, your energy, your persistence, your ability to solve problems, your relationships with your team, your interest in the project and the fact that you actually care about the outcome.

When my dad was starting to go downhill due to his age, I was the one that shouldered most of the responsibility.  I did his finances, I visited him (2 hrs down, 1 hour visit, 2 hrs back), and had to deal with his paranoia and his rants.  I had to deal with his hospital stays and his confusion.  I had to put the house up for rent.  I had to hide his car so he wouldn’t drive.  I had to set up his bills and get his taxes to his accountant.  I had to work out his will.  I was playing the martyr.  Then my brothers stepped up.  We moved him to a nursing facility that was 10 minutes from my younger brother, and he and my youngest made sure he got good care.  They dealt with the worst of the dementia.  I am so grateful for that!!  But when it was the three of us, no single one felt the weight of the responsibility all the time.  I got the house and the plane sold, invested the money, and made sure his bills were paid.  My brothers visited him at the facility, took care of the health issues, and made his last days bearable.  As a team, we all worked together, and individually, we all learned something from the experience.

When good people seek responsibility to their communities and their families, good things happen.  They don’t seek power, but the power they gather as a result of taking responsibility allows them to spread the job around so more people can contribute to the community.  When everyone is contributing and not sitting on the sidelines and throwing insults and critiques, things get better!

Don’t be an observer only.  Observe, find a niche, and take responsibility!  Go and DO SOMETHING!

Basement boy

I used to worry about my boys living in basements.  My oldest moved from couch to basement to couch of his friends, and enemies, and anyone enamored with his amazing charisma that would allow him lodging.  He now has an apartment.  Yay!  My middle boy and his wife and 2 kids live in her parents’ basement…but because of the declining health of the parents.  My youngest lives in my basement due to the fact that he can only get a part time job in fast food.  He says he’s been applying lots of places.

But guess what I figured out!  Jesus was a basement boy!  Yup.  There are no records of him leaving home to get married.  He did have a lot of marriage stories, and his mom dragged him to one in Capernaum and they ran out of wine.  Maybe she was trying to hint, “Boy, ya’ll need to get married and out of my basement!”  But he was hanging with his crew and wandering about the country from the time he was 30.  Now if you were Jesus, would you want the Pharisees and Saducees to go after your Wife and Kids?  No?  Well, then best not to get married.  Also there’d be this succession thing after he died…

Anyway, so I’m not worried about my boys anymore.  Jesus turned out all right.

They say that the average life expectancy in 1st century Jerusalem was about 45 years, but all that means is that someone that was born in 1st century Jerusalem could expect to live 45 years on the average.  That’s because infant mortality was high.  So for every man that lived to 80, there was one that died before he was one.  But life span could be anywhere from 50-70 years or longer depending on the type of work you did.  So here was Jesus, and he didn’t have his own shop (at least no one’s found any evidence that he had one) and was 30 already!  His disciples were mostly teenagers except for Peter who would have been about 20.  Let’s look at Jesus then:  he was a 30 year-old with a lot of wisdom and he recruited teenagers…guessing the age of immortality 15-19 and one 20 year old.  He was Peter Pan!  He had some older followers (Nicodemus) true, but if you want to get some people with fire in their bellies, get teenagers!  They were inspired, and diligent, and committed.  This doesn’t sound like any teenagers I know.  They risked everything and though some were martyred early, some lived to be in their 60’s.  John spent a great deal of time at Patmos in seclusion.  He was in his 90’s when he died they think.  But if he was a teenager when he joined the disciples, he could have been in his 80’s…

So all my basement boys are following an interesting example, though I don’t think they’re doing it on purpose.  I’m optimistic.

You need HELP!

So I have heard this 3 times in the last week.

Here’s the problem: I am simultaneously the smartest person in the room, and the least equipped to handle anything.  The first thing people notice about me is that I’m not very bright, but I am very loud and annoying.  No, the first thing people notice about me is my size, and they are shocked to find out I taught ballet.  No, the first thing they notice about me is that I’m always talking.  No the first thing they notice about me is I stand in a corner just watching.  I am a dichotomy.

I agree with the person that said I needed help with the house and recommended a cleaning company.  I think I’m going to do that.

I agree that I have a bad self image.  I don’t know how to fix that, so I would need to find someone to help me with that.  But see above…I’m always the smartest person in the room, even if I’m not.  When my boy was having problems in school, we went to a therapist, and he learned how to say exactly what she wanted him to say.  He thought it amusing.  One of the sessions, I was required to go with him.  She diagnosed me as Obsessive/Compulsive, Anal Retentive, and manic/depressive.  This is after talking with me for about 20 min.  I was shaking my head in disbelief.  Then she sent him out and told me in no uncertain terms, “No wonder your kids are all messed up!  You shouldn’t have had any!  You should have been in therapy for decades before you had kids.  It’s all your fault that your kids are useless.”  Remember, smartest person in the room…  I believed she was so set in blaming someone for the fact that she couldn’t figure out how my boy thought (because he was so much smarter than she).  I met a family therapist that thought he could solve our family’s problems with 3 sessions.  Tada!!! You’re normal!  Well, if we were normal, why were we required to have therapy?  Yes, again it was a requirement by the CPS.  I must have rose-colored glasses and be completely deluded about the mental health of my kids.  I couldn’t think of any kids that were as smiley and engaged as mine.  I have since been informed that all of them were extremely depressed and couldn’t wait to get out of the house.  (Oh?  then why is one of them still in my basement?)

As you may have guessed, I do not like being categorized.  I may have stressed this fact in this blog, and this one.  Never-the-less, I know from working all the myriads of jobs I’ve done that most of the people will take the easiest, least complicated path in solving a problem and then blame you if it’s more complex than they can handle.  I am fortunate to belong to a group of people who are very smart and in different ways.  One has 2 PHD’s in  the Sciences, and one in has a PHD in Human resources.  One is gifted in the emotional arena, and one in the ability to read and understand people.  3 are amazing in computer programming.  2 of them are wise on the spiritual level.  1 is exceptional in communication.  (That is good since we’re in the book writing business…)  Where does that put me?  I guess I connect all these various and sundry interests together.  So when I need some advice in my psychological state, and I talk to a psychiatrist and this person doesn’t measure up to this level of intelligence and takes short cuts–putting me into a box that is entirely too small and ill-fitting, I get discouraged.  I’m tempted to have a cattle call and have all the psychiatrists come to my office and give me their best shot so I can eliminate 3/4 of the incompetent people right off the bat.  Ya, right.

As for the 3rd time someone told me I needed help, I have been on this stupid diet/exercise/pill/herbs/mental trip for 4 years and I’m about 5 pounds heavier than when I started and that’s when I thought I was 45 pounds too heavy.  I’m going to try the Kathy Diet…forget to eat for a year.

New year’s resolutions?  Stuff I can handle, 1 more DTM, done with 1 full path in Toastmasters, read 10 more books, work out 3 times a week for an hour, replace the front door and the bathroom, hire a cleaning service, find my office and change it into a real library so all our books are in the same room instead of scattered all over the house, and dispose of the bunk beds…my grand kids will never use them.

UPDATE: I got that Distinguished Toastmaster award, finished 1 4/5 paths in the new Pathways learning system, read 4 books, worked out 3 times a month. I did a COMPLETE renovation of the house…floors, walls, wallpaper, furnishings, curtains, got 4 new bookcases for my office library (6′ tall!!!), got a new front door and bathroom, threw out the bunk beds. We couldn’t get them out without dismantling them. Still haven’t found a psychiatrist I can work with. They’re all too quick to give me a label and they all make this diagnosis after asking the same 6 questions over and over. They’re all very shallow, superficial questions. You’d think they’d have to get into deeper more philosophical questions to understand me, but since I’m not very bright (see 1st paragraph) they can take short cuts. Gah!