My New Screen Door Policy

“No one loses their innocence. It is either taken or given away willingly.”

― Tiffany Madison, Black and White

I visited my blog this evening.  It's like visiting an old friend who tells the sames stories over and over again.  Sometimes it seems repetitive and stale and sometimes I'm surprised by how fun it is to rehash old times.  I uncovered this old post from 2011.  It was a draft that I never published.  The subject was an undeserving someone vying for my romantic attention.  When I re-read it, I was reminded of how silly I felt to be conned by an unscrupulous schmuck.  I was going to delete it because it's ancient history now, but I after a second going over, I realized that the experience had a lasting effect.  I won't say it ended my innocence, but it did cause me to drop my rose-coloured-glasses to the point of my nose for a bit.

I dusted off this old tidbit and decided to leave it here for consideration and contemplation; maybe as a cautionary tale for my readers about dogs that bite.

Welcome to 2020.  I've been missing you!




There is a lot to be said about the old "Open Door Policy." I made a pledge to be the kindest person I know and so throwing open my door and welcoming others in seemed to be an appropriate choice. Thing is, you let enough people in and one of them is bound to arrive with an agenda that slowly unfolds to reveal their very own Jerry Springer episode. And so it has. One hateful person who savours anger like an after-dinner mint was committed to taint and stain what would otherwise be a perfectly simple life. While I get to control the impact it has on my life, the continued attempts are tiresome and quickly eroded away any goodwill I had remaining. I grew weary of the charade.

And so...I adjust.  In true Wordpecker form, I peck around the festering wound left in the tree to excise the infection and find knowledge and truth and I begin the healing process.

The problem, of course, is trying to introduce a change that protects my pledge to be kind as well as my lifestyle. The answer, it seems to me, is to adopt my own "Screen Door Policy" at least temporarily...we'll see how it works. Everyone gets a smile, an ear and my full attention, but if it feels like I'm waiting for your pitch...I probably am.

I have good instincts about people. My problem, I know, is that I choose to ignore these instincts from time to time. I do this in favour of a romanticism I harbour about the inherent good of the human spirit and my admiration for those that overcome adversity to become successful, contributing members of society. I'm not the only one. Lots of people cheer for the underdog. There is a special affirmation in this rise to victory that bolsters the human spirit.   It's a celebration of hope and possibility.   Is there any other circumstance when we cheer so loudly for the most unlikely winners?  No!!!! We want it so bad, we believe in it so fully, that it seems our desire alone can and will force it to happen.

Sadly it can't.  

Sometimes the underdogs are just dogs. They come to our homes canvassing for sympathy and while we think we are helping, we are enabling...at our own cost in some cases.  These dogs stand on our welcome mats with smiles and stories and we open our doors and invite them in before we discover, too late, how feral they have become...either by choice or by circumstance. And then a beautiful idea becomes a spectacular mess and we writhe in the shame of our naivete and innocence.

Naturally our inclination is to close the door and take in our welcome mats but that seems to me to be an admission of defeat. When we shut everyone out, we're locking ourselves away and that changes who we are. We lose.

The screen door fits. It's a tentative acceptance of the certain truth that there are dogs in our midst but it allows us to commit to the idea that many people who arrive at our doorstep bring friendship and kindness. They stay--or leave--and our lives are better because we opened our door to their possibility.

A Message from the Universe

Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.

~ Barack Obama

I won't say I was struggling with a decision when I saw it, but I was thinking long and hard about something in my life.  I'm pretty slow to make big decisions if there is no urgency involved.  I like to know that I gave these decisions proper and thorough consideration...especially when the decision may impact others.  I get embarrassed sometimes because I feel as though I have this inflated sense of self...like MY decision has a lot more weight than it truly does.  I suppose some of that is just the burdensome responsibility that comes with being a single parent. I am not so arrogant to believe that my decision will change the world...but the big ones often change my world...so that's enough reason for me to give thoughtful consideration to things.

Laugh if you will but when I am really labouring over a problem, I pray for guidance and then I watch for signs.  I listen intently to what others are saying...or not saying.  I pay attention to what song plays on the radio when I'm thinking about my issue.  I pay closer attention to random messages in my everyday -- street signs, newspaper ads, advertisements in windows, greeting cards, news stories, banter on the radio.  It's like an awakening I think, when you open yourself up to world around you after you throw out a simple S.O.S. to the cosmos.  So when I saw it, I knew my decision was made. 

As I left the office, I saw in the sky a Phoenix.  It could not be missed.  The timing was perfect.  I get that it's a cloud, but in that moment, at a time in my life I needed to "see" something, THAT cloud became a message that promised rebirth.  It was relevant and it was timely and it was obvious.   Some will poo, poo this as a coincidence, but it doesn't matter to me because I had asked for guidance and I saw it in the sky.  If you don't ask, you don't get -- so...in the end...what's the harm in asking? 

Besides, in those moments when I believe the universe is communicating to me, I experience a sense of belonging which compares to no other.  It is transformative and powerful and it is the fundamental reason behind the feeling I have that I am blessed.  And to the cynics I would suggest, "Why wouldn't the universe communicate with me?  I am open, I am listening and I am worthy." 

So, thank you universe.  I accept my message.  In return, I send out love.

I Walked Across a Smile

"A smile is happiness you'll find right under your nose.

~ Tom Wilson

I try to walk every day.  In the heat of the summer, that sometimes means an early morning walk before work.  Most days, I like to get a break during my workday and get out for a walk to clear my head.  Occasionally I walk after work to exercise away the day's stress.  I've walked hundreds of miles on the same streets of Perth over many, many days, but today was different.

Today on my walk, I happened across a nice surprise.  As I was headed back down main street to return to the office, I noticed an arrow drawn on the sidewalk in chalk.  I was headed in the direction of the arrow and thought little of it.  I was half expecting a game of hopscotch on my travels but discovered instead a simple message...."Smile." 

I did.

I continued past "Smile" and found myself a the end of the block and a four-directional arrow.  It was clear to me that some kids had been playing a game of some kind -- a treasure hunt maybe.  I crossed the street and continued along my way.

Within half a block, I happened across another message...."One Happy Thought."

So I conjured one...

...and I smiled again.

It was completely unexpected and absolutely delightful.  It brightened what was already a pretty awesome day. 

It would be nice to think that the universe was speaking to me but I get the randomness of it.  Some kid wrote it...I just happened across it.  BUT...it could have rained and washed away; I could have taken another route; it could have been a game of hopscotch.  None of that happened, so I'm taking it as a hug from the collective consciousness of the universe.  It was a message and I received it.

Thank you universe.

Right back atcha!!

So here's my little message to the kid who wrote the message.  "Thank you for not drawing a penis or the chalk outline of a dead person or another hopscotch pattern that I never know whether to jump across or walk around.  Thank you for choosing a five letter word instead of a less-complimentary four letter word.  Whether you had intended it or not, you had an impact.  The choice you made brought joy to another person -- ME -- so....kudos to you Random Nameless Kid.  You rock!"

Part Owl, Part Dove With a Just a Hint of Peacock

“The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”

 ~ George Bernard Shaw

As I mentioned in my last post, a friend suggested that my latest break-up could very likely be due, in no small part, to my lack of communication. I've been spending a lot of time mulling over this idea.  Did I fail to communicate?  Really?  That seems so unlike me.

I was raised by parents who strongly believed that if you don't have anything nice to say, you don't say anything at all.  I recognize that this little lesson is intended to serve children as they learn how to develop their own little filters to keep them from thoughtlessly hurling insults at others.  Its purpose is to teach empathy and impart socially acceptable behaviours and otherwise prevent children from having their assess kicked across the nation's playgrounds -- at least on the days they aren't serving detention. 

As adults, the rule mutates and further tests our mettle. As grown ups we're not only expected to speak nicely but we are required to do so while maintaining open and honest communications. No wonder so many of us just smile and nod our heads! Sometimes it takes days to craft an appropriate response to a personal affront. You've been there.  I know you have. You're having a conversation with someone when they say something so offensive or obtuse that your jaw literally drops open. Your mind races for an appropriate response as you fight the urge to convey the most natural one. You know EXACTLY which one I mean. The "you're a f*!@king  ass#@le," response to human stressors. But you don't say it because you are an adult. You stammer and choke, maybe say something weak like "I'm sorry you feel that way," or laugh with the hope that it was a poor attempt at humour.  Then it comes to you, three days later while you're brushing your teeth in the bathroom mirror -- the perfect response. An especially thoughtful remark precisely balanced with quick wit and disarming simplicity with a flawless delivery that you practice over and over again to the audience in your bathroom mirror. You smile and nod at your satisfied reflection because it is truly perfect...then you slowly shake your head because you know that it is now, three days later, a painfully useless retort.

Regardless of which side of the conversation you find yourself in most often, there are four distinct communication styles -- the Driver (Eagle), the Influencer (Peacock), the Compliant (Owl) and the Steady (Dove) communicator. Some people fit perfectly in one of these quadrants without venturing outside their communication box. Most people generally fit into one of these styles while sharing characteristics from one or more of the other types.

My communication pendulum swings between Compliant and Steady 90% of the time. I can be an Influencer but only if I'm heavily into "sales mode" or talking about something that I feel especially passionate about. I am not a Driver. Not even a little.

How I Communicate
I try to speak with purpose. I weigh my words carefully. I don't talk to hear myself speak. I don't feel the need to share every thought that pops in and out of my mind. If what I am thinking does not add value, it probably won't make it to the conversation. I am not under the misguided belief that I must share my every opinion with the world. I reserve judgement. I know that words can hurt so I try to be kind; I will, however, hurt you with my words if I'm pressed. I do not feel the urge to sway your opinions or beliefs though I am happy to openly explore them with you. Even if I don't agree with what you are saying, I will respect that you do. I don't need you to see the world my way. If you did...there would be so few conversations...so much less to talk about.

How I Feel
Knowing that I feel this way, it is reasonable to assume that mean-spirited remarks will be frowned upon and condescension will be met with contempt. I believe that if your mind is closed, so is your heart. I believe in the sanctity of a trusted confidence; if I feel that what I say is being met with criticism I will not share; if the confidence is broken, the conversation is over. I believe that character can be measured by the way a person treats his mother, his animals and restaurant wait staff. I believe that even if you deserve every good thing that happens, it doesn't excuse you from giving thanks. I believe that if you carry the burden of anger and resentment you have done so by choice and not by circumstance.

I speak with purpose. I did not speak at length but I spoke clearly about what I expect from my partner, how I feel, what I need and what I want. The behaviour and choices that follow are products of conscious decision-making -- we are, after all, agents of free will. Communication is not just talking...sometimes actions speak volumes.

I do not feel the urge to sway your opinions or beliefs.... I do not nag. You are who you are. You have the right to live your life the way you choose. I choose to live my best life.

“The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn't being said.”  ~ Peter Drucker

Working Bilge Pump Needed

"Commitment doesn't scare me.  The thought of committing to the wrong person does."

~ Anonymous

A friend and I were performing a post-mortem on my latest relationship when he suggested that I have commitment issues. The 73 minute phone call began with a 15 minute discussion followed by a one-sided dissection of the relationship, my behaviour, my needs, my hang-ups, his merits, his mistakes, his devotion. He talked, I listened. In the end, he simply felt that the breakdown could all be explained by my fear of commitment or, quite possibly, by my lack of communication.

The commitment remark offended me but I was trying to be a good listener and didn't want to interrupt so I silently seethed while he continued to wonder at my decision to end things. His point about my lack of communication was fair but really a matter of perspective so, once again, I listened in silence and made note of the absence of any desire to defend myself.

That's when I recognized it...that familiar vacuum of apathy that sucks away the space that belongs to angry shouts of self-righteous indignation and hurt -- space that belongs to the gritty hallmarks of passion. It was nowhere. It could neither be summoned nor manufactured. It didn't make me sad so much as it made me sure. Something was missing. Something I knew I needed but that had failed to materialize during our time together.

Truth is, I am not afraid of commitment. I think that's the easy part. Commitment requires loyalty, patience, respect and trust. I can do all that and I'm confident in my abilities to recognize those traits in a partner. Over time, however, I have learned that other qualities are critical to a relationship's enduring success. There are things that each of us can or cannot live with or without. We all have our own deal breakers and our list of must-have's. I have no plans to list mine here but, in the end, I must have unwavering faith in the relationship's sustainability before I will surrender to it completely. To commit to a relationship absent of passion, at least in my mind, is defeat not surrender.

Relationships are complex -- easy for some, less easy for others -- but they are as unique as the individuals in them. The only thing they have in common is that they are imperfect. Every relationship is a leaky boat. The trick is to find the leak and determine what you need to staunch the flow.

It takes courage to enter into a relationship. We move forward with open hearts and open minds, of the attitude that we will learn something valuable whether or not we succeed. In every case we grow; we learn more about ourselves and others through our failures as well as our successes. And sometimes...we have our ass handed to us. So we rally...and we find a new boat...and we step lightly packing our bailing bucket, just a little bigger than the last one.

Doomsday Resolution - Dance with Abandon

On this, the last day of the Mayan Calendar, we're getting ready for the re-set.  A little over a year ago, Harold Camping was predicting the end of the world (http://intermittent-tappings-of-a-wordpecker.blogspot.com/2011/05/rapture-rescheduled.html). Years before that we had the Y2K scare.  Decades before that Herbert Armstrong predicted the end of the world -- THREE TIMES!  Doomsday predictions are becoming...well...predictable. 

While we are confident that the world will spin on long after December 21st, it does present an opportunity to give thanks for the little things that make our life easier, sometimes better.

Simple things like bustling stores filled with harried shoppers in search of the perfect Christmas present; the solidarity that foul weather brings to people who want snow but get freezing rain; the light cooing of wild turkeys scratching at the ground in the backyard in search of food; a good book beside a warm fire when temperatures dip below zero; the way your body relaxes into a warm bath as you close your eyes and unwind at the end of the day; talking on the telephone to someone who lives a day away but who is always on your mind; the way that Christmas lights reflect on a light dusting of snow; cute and corny Christmas movies that play over and over leading up to the holidays.  Countless riches that we take for granted.  Things that deserve our attention...that deserve a second look.

I've been thinking carefully about the things that I don't necessarily use or do everyday, but things that I would miss nonetheless.  Take out pizza, for instance.  Picking up the phone, calling in your order and picking up a hot pizza for dinner is an absolute treat.  Delivery is divine. There are a thousand conveniences I take for granted every day.  Modern day conveniences like:  hair mousse, flannel sheets, my flat iron, ordering breakfast through a drive-through window, Noxema, whitening tooth paste, my coffee grinder, my coffee maker, Costco, microwaves, spider solitaire, hand cream, the Internet, over-the-counter pain relief, greeting cards, IPhones, radio...this list could go on...and on...and on.

Things aside, there are also people that enrich our lives.  Waking up with my kids, talking about our day, joking about things that have happened or could have happened or will happen.  Knowing that there are two other people that I am inextricably linked to in life.  Two people that know me better than I know myself. Two people I would do anything for.  Two that would do anything for me.

Isn't it time that "the end" should be followed by a new beginning?  Isn't it time that we find our peace in gratitude.  Wouldn't it be better to live our best life every day instead of waiting until tomorrow to get it right?

If this was your last day, how would you live it?  Why wait....

So then it's settled.  On this last day, we will dance with abandon.

Doomsday Resolution - Practice Wind Sprints

The countdown to this year's doomsday prediction continues with only 2 days left until "the end of the world."

In a true end-of-world scenario, I guess we would be forced to arm ourselves.  Hollywood portrays post-apocalyptic survivors as a bunch of gun-toting renegades with a "take no survivors" approach to battle.  I was brought up with female role models like the Bionic Woman and Charlie's Angels in a family-friendly time slot.  All that really taught me is that I could, indeed, run in high heels.  I did not play graphic, violent video games (we had pac man), and our idea of make-believe was running through the bush pretending we were shipmates of the Battlestar Galactica exploring a new planet.  My blood lust is generally reserved for mosquitoes and the occasional spider.  Ahhh geez...let's face it...I don't have a violent bone in my body.

My ex-husband, an avid hunter, tested the boundaries of my tolerance for firearms.  On a day where I was particularly open minded, I agreed to fire a gun to experience it first hand.  It was very noisy.  I hated it.   It left my ears ringing and my head aching.  I don't need to tell you, I'm sure, that this pacifist doesn't own a firearm.  Nor do I plan to acquire one.

I do a lot of cooking so I'm pretty handy with kitchen utensils.  One time, however, I accidentally cut my hand with an especially sharp knife and I nearly fainted.  A friend standing nearby helped me to a chair where I waited until the dizziness and nausea passed.  To me, arming myself with a knife is as unthinkable as arming myself with a cheese grater or a spatula.  It borders on the absurd.

If I'm being honest, I'm not a fighter, I'm more of a...flighter.  When faced with a threatening or stressful situation, my natural response is to flee, take flight, scat, scram, vamoose.  While I have been known to engage, it takes a special recipe of stress, fatigue and PMS to get me in the fightin' mood.  I remember telling my boss once that I lost my temper with one of our clients and he said, "Hmmmm.  Tell me, what was that like?" It's really a testament to my passive nature.   I think I would be described as having a gentle disposition.  I try to be polite and kind.  Not exactly battleground material.

I was born with an acerbic wit and long legs.  It's a marvellous example of evolution when you think about it.  I crack wise then book it in the other direction with incredible speed.  I don't hurt people, I hurt feelings.  In light of the fact that we have committed to a doomsday theory involving zombies and possible zombie attacks, we're pretty much screwed.  It is unlikely that I will offend an attacker so completely that they will turn tail and run and it's highly unlikely that I'll have them rolling in the aisles.  That pretty much leaves the long legs so...

It's settled then!  With only 2 days left on the Mayan Calendar, I'm learning to bite my tongue and I'm practicing my wind sprints.

Doomsday Resolution - Clean the Microwave

(I am not certain whether a reader was scolding me today or reassuring me but let me be clear...if I TRULY  believed that the world was ending on Friday, I would not waste valuable time on my computer.  The fact is, people with very expensive opinions encourage us to live every day as though it was our last.  Not with the reckless abandon of a looter, of course, but with humility and awe.  Each day is a gift and the time we spend should never be taken for granted.  This blog is not intended to be instructional, nor do I wish to promote public panic.  It's intended to be tongue in cheek - if it's not, then my writing is worse than I feared.)

The countdown towards doomsday continues and things are rolling smoothly here at casa del wordpecker.


We've decided to give the house a good cleaning and have committed to keeping up with the laundry.  Regardless of how the end presents itself, it's probably a safe bet that the fall of human civilization will likely come with some interruption to our power which means losing all the conveniences of life.  No water, no lights, no modern cooking appliances or household heating systems, among other things.  What's more, I have absolutely no experience with power generation so the future doesn't hold a lot of promise for finding a solution for power-free living.  I'm trying to envision a future without vacuum cleaners - nothing but dirty thoughts.

When I think about a post-apocalyptic future, I figure we're all going to end up on foot headed somewhere other than here.  A brief decolonization that has people travelling in small groups before meeting up somewhere else and forming a new community.  A magical and mysterious someplace to be divulged when the right opportunity presents itself.  In this scenario, I figure that the house will become a stop along the way for road weary travellers and...well...I want it to be clean.

I will be taking great care to clean out the microwave oven.  It is astonishing to me how quickly and thoroughly that device becomes polluted by food scraps.  It's amazing how there is any food left on the dinner plate at all. By Thursday, that microwave oven will be sparkling clean and completely off limits to the kids.  The dishwasher will be empty, laundry done, folded and put away, bathroom pristine and carpets vacuumed (for the third time this week.) Beds will be made, floors mopped, furniture dusted, throw pillows puffed up, new batteries in the smoke detectors, and glade refills...refilled.

I don't know that everyone else will be preparing for the end in quite this way, but I still hope that other people will be extending the same courtesy.  Cleanliness, after all, is next to Godliness.

It's settled then!  With only 3 days left until the decolonization of earth, we will rejoice in a spotless home.

Doomsday Resolution - Download Spider Solitaire

With only four days standing between us and the predicted doomsday, time is being dedicated to planning our transition to chaos.  I am paying very close attention to daily habits.  Things I do that make my life better.  Things I don't want to live without.  Things that, with careful planning, I don't NEED to live without.

Our worst-case scenario involves a complete breakdown of infrastructure where things we take for granted gradually cease to exist. While I feel pretty comfortable that I could survive life without daily Facebook visits, I am already mourning the loss of radio and power. I wake every day to a radio station that offers non-stop music with periodic, concise 2-1/2 minute summaries of local and national news. There are occasions I shake my head and think..."This is news?"...but realize that, for me, it is not the material that is important so much as the idea that it conveys....a sense of community. I guess, then that it's not the loss of radio that saddens me but rather the loss of community. (And this coming from a passive member of her own.)


It's not my nature to focus on things I can't control so I'm turning my thoughts to things I can and will preserve so it's decided...I'm loading up my IPhone.

While cellular communications are likely to fail within days/weeks of doomsday, I plan on using my IPhone to safeguard digital versions of what I consider to be hallmarks of our society. Yeah, yeah, it will be completely subjective but just think…how cool would it be to bump into other like-minded planners in the post-apocalyptic meeting and compare our selections. We could make it a whole "coffee house" thing. Besides, appointing myself as a one-woman travelling archive of digital media gives me purpose…a divine (?) mission of sorts.

According to my IPhone, I already have a vast selection of music genres -- alternative, punk, blues, classic rock, country, folk, grunge, hard rock, hip hop, jazz, metal, pop, R & B, and reggae. That said, Apple and I are worlds apart on cataloguing music. For instance, under Showtunes, my IPhone lists Nickelback's “Leader of Men” and that is just not going to do. No, no, no, Apple! Nickleback does not record showtunes!   Be forewarned, however, I have decided not to download opera music so… sorry if you’re a big opera fan but I’m not changing my mind. You’ll have to pin your hopes on someone else, or take up the torch for opera lovers everywhere. I will, however, be downloading a few Christmas tunes because -- with or without structured civilization -- we are celebrating the birth of our Lord and Saviour on December 25th and I want music.

I will be downloading Podcasts, audiobooks, e-books and a few useful apps. I’m not a big follower of podcasts OR audiobooks so my approach will be a “people’s choice” method where I rely entirely upon the insights and opinions of others. The benefit of this process is that I will get to enjoy the sense of discovery as I listen to these selections for the very first time while I waste time in burned out buildings or perched in a tree waiting out the zombies. (It just hit me that I am going to need a portable device to charge this bad boy on the fly. Hmmmm….homework.)

E-books is an entirely different matter. More than anything else in the world, I love books and I think maybe it would be a simpler task to set up defenses at a library than to select which books live or die. There are so many literary pieces that deserve to be preserved because they are insightful or inspiring or thought-provoking; testaments to the strength of human character, chronicles of greed and corruption, tales of tragedy and triumph. Man! I hope someone has already built a bunker for the books. I’ll travel with Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, To Kill a Mockingbird, Three Times Carlin and a copy of The Holy Bible…maybe more…definitely more.

I checked and there is actually a Doomsday app. Whatever! I need the one that will turn my IPhone into a flashlight. I will also need the GPS app and the Dark Sky weather app. I have Boggle and Hangman but I still have to download Spider Solitaire. My daughter claims I’m addicted but I’m not convinced…though if she’s right, I’m going to need a fix within days of the apocalypse. Better safe than sorry. (Like you haven't already figured out that this is my personal motto.)

It’s settled then! With only 4 days left before the arrival of the horsemen, I am hereby appointing myself as keeper of the collective social conscience.

Doomsday Resolution - Buy a New Bra

With December 21st just a few days away it seems to be a good time to simplify.  For someone as chronically undecided as myself, a little planning is bound to go a long way and while I don't envision a stress-free apocalypse some thoughtful planning may ease the transition to anarchy.  Committed now to a doomsday theory it should be easier to focus my preparations.

The more I think about the end of the world, the more I wonder -- What do I wear?  Some may consider this to be a shallow point to ponder but I really see it as a practical question that begs for a thoughtful answer.  Let's face it...a forced evacuation means that I may very well have to live with that outfit for the rest of my life.  (I can assure you...I am not taking to the hills with luggage in tow.)  You don't agree?  Take a moment to picture yourself running through dense bush wearing whatever you wore to work on Friday.  Now, envision yourself curled up in an abandoned building trying to catch a quick nap in the same outfit. And finally, imagine that same outfit in 10 weeks. Understand now?

Most mornings I stare at my closet in disbelief at an ever-shrinking wardrobe. I select and de-select outfit after outfit while trying to muster the female fortitude required to wrestle myself into a pair of nylon stockings. I can't afford the luxury of this time-wasting indecision when the zombies come a knockin'.  It's better, I think, to have an outfit picked out.  I especially don't want my end to come at the door of my closet...certainly not without anyone left to enjoy the irony in that demise.

Something tells me that I'm going to need lots of pockets so I'm leaning towards a reunion with my old cargo pants.  They're durable, warm, and are hands-down the wardrobe winner for "most pockets." Given that doomsday is scheduled for the beginning of a Canadian winter, layers are probably wise -- finding the right mix of natural fibres and synthetics will be important.  Footwear will be critical.  I have selected a pair of military-style boots with a good tread, cotton anklets and a pair of wool work socks in keeping with my layering theme. I am, however, going to need a new bra.

I watched a video on Yahoo's fashion site that says that most women are wearing the wrong bra size.  Most women, they claim, should wear a cup size F or G which I find astonishing since department stores largely carry cups A through D.   In fact, I've never seen an F or G and envision a bowling ball sized accessory with straps.  I imagine myself using it to carry firewood, or harvesting pumpkins, or launching stones at the enemy slingshot style.  I'll choose a bra without underwire so that I don't have to worry about wire poking into my armpit for eternity on earth.  No lace, no jewels, no gel inserts...a practical sports bra will fit the bill I think.

I'll lay out my clothes on December 20th and am committed to packing them for work the next day.  (I don't dare show up at the office in my doomsday get-up when it clearly doesn't conform to dress code.)  I'll tell you what though...I am NOT wearing nylons to work on Friday.

It's settled then!  With only 5 days left of business dress, I will treat myself to a new bra and will observe a self-imposed "no nylon stockings" rule until the fate of all mankind is decided.

Doomsday Resolution - Commit to a Theory

With less than one week to go before the Mayan Calendar runs out, we are faced once again with the prophesied end of the world.

The Mayans were especially helpful in identifying the date, however the cause is not clear which makes the whole prediction seem a little wishy-washy in my book.   Some suggest that the world will end when earth collides with a celestial body while other theories portend pestilence.  My kids are partial to the idea of a Zombie Apocalypse and Hollywood has foretold of an alien invasion on more than on occasion.  Solar flares, a shift in the magnetic poles, flood, famine...the possibilities are endless.

After studying the book of Revelations during youth group, I was horrified by the idea that Satan would release his minions upon the face of the earth in a grandiose battle of good versus evil.  Of course, thirty years later I have come to terms with the fact that this has already occurred.  If you don't believe me, open up an account on Plenty of Fish. Malevolent forces will reveal themselves to you.  Be forewarned though...they will want to chat.

With six short days to go, imminent collision with an asteroid or wayward planet would surely be uncovered by NASA if not , by now, any star-gazer with a department store telescope.  I simply don't believe in a conspiracy of silence that would keep this information from the general public.  Try to convince me that the world can keep a secret when Facebook tells me what's being served for dinner on the other side of the country.  I mean really...isn't a message about a heavenly collision so much more interesting than stir fry?

Solar flares and atmospheric changes are a bit of a concern.  I'm Canadian so I have been bred to bitch about the weather.  I don't like it too hot or too cold.  I own more than a dozen coats and twice as many sundresses.  I just worry that if I survive a firestorm or planetary freeze, my gratitude will wane in the weeks that follow and I'll be the ingrate at the survivors' support group meetings complaining about the temperature. I feel embarrassed just thinking about it.

Death by alien invasion is not a compelling idea to me.  While I believe in alien life forms, I'm not confident that they harbour hostilities towards us earthlings.  I mean, I can certainly understand how they may be pissed off by more than one of us...there are certainly a multitude of jackasses in our midst... but I fail to see how a higher life form would hold that against the rest of us.  Besides, who gets rid of a vacation property? Especially in this economy.

I love the idea of pestilence but then, I'm a HUGE Stephen King fan and he wrote about a "super flu" that wiped out a big chunk of the population.  In King's book,"The Stand," the infected masses died mostly behind closed doors in a very short span of time, but I really can't foresee it unfolding this way.  If past experience serves, it is safe to assume that all the sickies will head to the pharmacies, doctor's offices, emergency clinics and whatever lineup I find myself standing in. Who would believe that the world would end in a barrage of retching and writhing? Maybe I'm just fond of this theory because I had my flu shot on Monday. 

The Zombie Apocalypse is especially tempting, but mostly because I know how much it would mean to the kids.  They've watched a lot of shows about zombies...like a Doomsday boot camp of sorts...and they have already devised plans to evade and escape.  If the zombies are lethargic (as depicted on TV), I think I could embrace the Zombie Apocalypse theory though I'm still cheering for the super flu.

It's settled then! Faced with the possibility of extinction in 6 days, I commit to the theory of doomsday by antibiotic-resistant super flu that may or may not turn people into zombies.

Doomsday Resolution...Take a Day Off

As you all know, the Mayan Calendar predicts the end of the world on December 21, 2012. The countdown is on...7 days until the end.

As I have said before, I am not a believer in the end of the world.  I don't want to seem negative, but...
it's  just easier for me to believe that someone "dropped the ball" than it is to believe in a preordained fate for all of mankind.  I totally buy into the notion of an underpaid Mayan labourer hammering dates into stone in a semi-conscious state suddenly distracted by the boss's daughter picking figs in the courtyard...  Things get crazy...the horny worker gets fired and the boss figures...   "What?  Like we're going to need a calendar 5000 years long?   Scrap that project...it was running long and over budget anyhow.  Give the money to the architects!"

Besides, it seems unfair that the end of the world is scheduled for a Friday.  I mean, truthfully, how pissed off are the nine-to-fivers going to be if things go to hell after 5 pm on a Friday? How effective are most people going to be at the end of a work week?  We're emotionally spent from dealing with difficult customers and physically drained from our harrowing work schedules.  I will be very curious to learn if there is a noticeable pattern in the workplace that emerges during the final week of our countdown to doomsday.  Do we work overtime and tie up all our loose ends so that we can focus on fighting for survival without thoughts straying to the expense report we forgot to file?  Do we call in "sick" and spend more time with family and friends so that we have fond memories to sustain us through the coming apocalypse?  Are we distracted and depressed or are we more focused and productive?  I hope that someone out there is paying attention.  I can't wait to find out what happens.  Human behaviour is fascinating!

I'm thinking that we would all appreciate it if, in future, doomsday activities could be scheduled for the beginning of the work week. The way I see it, Monday morning between 6 am and 8 am is an excellent time to schedule our reckoning.  We'll be refreshed from our weekend away from the office, fired up on the week's first pot of coffee and ready to deal with whatever the four horsemen decide to throw at us.  Fair play dictates that we should be well-rested if we're expected to endure a doomsday melee.  Yup. Monday mornings...that's our day.  Take note doomsday prophets!

Again...I want to be certain everyone is clear...I am not a believer.  That said, I will take the opportunity to work my scheduled workdays without overtime from now until December 21st...just in case.  There will be no overtime, no after hours appointments, no "catching up at home."  I have also, for the coming week, sworn off professional development activities (but that is mostly just because it works for me).

It's settled then! Faced with the possibility of extinction in 7 days, I have booked Thursday, December 20th off work.

Doomsday Resolution...Curb Holiday Shopping

According to doomsday prophets, the Mayan Calendar predicts the end of the world in 8 days.  This, of course, is not news.  It was initially making headlines months ago but...well...the date is fast approaching so let's say the countdown is officially on.

I don't personally believe that the world will end in 8 days though I have toyed with the idea from time to time in the last few days, especially in light of the time crunch that Christmas activities bring .  For instance, I am honestly thinking of putting off buying my Christmas turkey until the 22nd.  If all the doomsday followers out there are getting serious about stocking up, I'm thinking canned goods might be in short supply while frozen turkeys should remain relatively plentiful.  Yup.  I think I'll wait.  Who knows...maybe I can take advantage of the End of Mayan Calendar sales that are sure to follow.

I mentioned to the kids that I would probably forego our usual Christmas shopping activities and fast-track the exercise with a "gift card Christmas."  Again, I'm not a believer but I am not above capitalizing on the hype to escape the stresses of Christmas shopping.  I am not an exuberant shopper under the best of circumstances...and is it just me or does everyone seem especially pissy at this time of year?  The lines are longer (which is OK because I just downloaded Boggle to my IPhone) but it can get hot hanging around in a lineup being bumped around by rhino-virus-infected shoppers who lost their patience before they even left the parking lot.  While I don't condone shoplifting, I totally understand how tempting it would be to just head to the exit with your wares shooting looks at the suckers standing in line. Don't get me wrong...I could never bring myself to do it but...MAN!...if I could just throw some cash at the staff and head out the doors without my gift receipt, I might be able to embrace holiday shopping. I would need that little thing that removes the security tags from clothes though. There would probably be a long line up at the store that sells those. I bet you even have to give your name and email account before you get to buy one. Hmmm.. the idea is fast losing its appeal.


The three of us have made a pact to shop after Christmas if the world keeps spinning.  We'll make a day of it...dinner, shopping...maybe even a movie.  The kids understand my aversion and suggested that we would all be better off if I didn't spend the rest of my life shopping.   That said, we're going to go ahead and buy gifts for those that fall outside of our pact.  We don't, after all, want people thinking that we're whack jobs!!!!

It's settled then!  Faced with the possibility of extinction in 8 days, we have agreed to curb our holiday shopping activities.

No Passengers

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another."   ~ Anatole France

A friend once told me that life's natural rhythm cycles through phases of harmony, followed by periods of disharmony, before arriving at harmony again.  This insight is like a beacon to people who find themselves struggling through disharmony; a promise that soon things return to a more gentle rhythm...one that soothes and strenghtens, reassures and resolves. 

Nothing is more difficult than moving forward to uncertainty except, perhaps, standing still with that same feeling of uneasiness.  Standing in the middle of the road waiting for the road to change is not an option...courage lies in the decision to choose a path.  So we do.  We put one foot in front of the other and wait for conviction to build itself around our choice. 

And sometimes...our choices are made for us.  Sometimes we are launched forward into disharmony with no warning or preparation.  Suddenly standing on the road. What we do next is entirely our making.  So we choose. 

The miracle of the human existence is that regardless of the impetus of change, the choices that follow are invariably the same...driven by experience and character inherent in every decision we make no matter how big or small.  Each one of us has a built in navigational system that determines our individual destinations.  To blame our situation on another, or on the fates alone, is to absolve ourselves of our choices. 

We are not, after all, passengers on our journey. 

Rapture Rescheduled

Did anyone else find it a little strange that the rapture was predicted to occur at the kick off of this year's network season finales? Clever really. Did Harold Camping doze off in front of the TV one night recently and wake up with this doomsday epiphany? He says, of course, that the date was chosen after lengthy computations and a lifetime devotion to theology but...the subconscious is so malleable...I wonder.

I met a preacher once that said the Bible was a collection of stories with lessons in morality and honor...not a history book. I wonder what the preacher is thinking about all this talk of rapture. I doubt that the suitcases were packed and waiting by the door Saturday morning. Nor do I think they will be on October 21st.


My message to Harold...

You can try to terrify the world into becoming believers Harold, but you will find that the hoards of followers are back-sliding hypocrites greedy to follow you only for the prize of salvation. Having a relationship with God isn't about paying tithes to a religious organization or even about attending church every week. It's not about confessing sins to shrouded clergy in quiet confessionals or about surrendering our belongings in vows of poverty. It is NOT about appeasing a wrathful deity.

Finding God is about finding our way to a life that serves others...whether that is a child, a spouse, a friend, our family, or people who need something that we have to offer. It's about finding honor and nobility and dignity in the every day. It is understanding that every one of us has an authentic purpose to fulfill. Even you Harold. You have single-handedly raised the profile of religion if only through your fanaticism and, sadly, if only briefly.

Genesis 3:22 - And the LORD God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever.

See Harold..good AND evil. We are all human. We are all fallible. We all have the capacity to behave well and the capacity to behave badly and...generally speaking...most of us behave well...most of the time.

And see that last part Harold, "and live for ever..." What if that means we're here to stay? Not us individuals, of course...but as a part of the world...like the mountains and the oceans. How about we decide to live our best lives even if we only do that because it will mean a better world for the people that come after us? How about we stop looking for hidden meanings to serve as a prophesy for the end of the world, and start looking for reasons to protect it? How about we do that Harold?

We won't be renewing your contract; your show won't be picked up this Fall. This was your last finale Harold.

Please, please, please tell me that you are glad you were wrong.

On Friendship

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation. - George Washington (1732 - 1799)

In the sandbox of preschools, friendship blossoms over shared toys or from a simple, tentative smile. In elementary schools, our friendships are found in common interests and goals...no matter how simple. In high school, friendships are strengthened or severed by the strain of academic achievement and new relationships that teach and transform us. And...after that...we fight to protect and preserve the friendships that survived years of change and growth and distance because inside that friendship lies the person we were, we are, we will be.

Some say that when two friends meet after a period of absence, they pick up where they left off as easily as they would resume a conversation interrupted by a brief pause. I suppose then, that a true friend is like a member of our family that came to be a part of our lives not by birthright, but by accepting and supporting us as surely and completely as a parent or a sibling.

We don't have to be perfect to be a perfect friend but friendship in and of itself is perfection. An organic affiliation that protects and promotes the needs of two people with unyielding reciprocity.

Anything...

Anytime...

No questions asked...

No explanation necessary...

...because that's what family is. It's the tie that binds. Either by design or default...our friends are the family we chose.

On Courage

I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. - Harper Lee (1926 - ), To Kill a Mockingbird, 1960

Courage, I think, may be found in the silent pep talks we have with ourselves in the bathroom mirror after we wipe away the fog and search to find clarity in the eyes that gaze back at us. It is the quiet words of encouragement we speak beneath our breath when we say, "you can do this" or "it's OK" as we summon the strength to do something that we have been avoiding..or something that scares us. It is found in the quiet victories claimed in the promises we make to ourselves...the ones that we keep...the ones that we don't share with the rest of the world.

Regardless of whether our courage is authentic or an act...it changes us and the way we move through our world. Some say that courage is about being afraid but being the only one in the room that knows it. Perhaps that is why our courage feels sometimes like an ill-fitting shirt -- choking us a little, too tight in the chest, uncomfortable -- but we put it on and move forward because without it we are naked and vulnerable and...eventually...we find comfort in the fit.

On Regrets

Maybe it's the fact that my 40th birthday is fast approaching, or maybe it's the series of events that have unfolded over the past two years that have prompted me to spend hours of my time in quiet introspection. Normally a healthy practice towards achieving self-awareness, over time it has become a slug fest of sorts where I ultimately end up picking at the scabs of my regrets.

At one level, I recognize the futility of regret but at another level I secretly wonder about the lessons that hide themselves in the messiness of my bad choices. "Everything happens for a reason," seems like a license to dig through my unfortunate failures in a desperate hunt for meaning.

My son is on a crash-course and I feel absolutely helpless as I witness one bad decision after another. My heart breaks as I calculate this growing number while he works towards his own long list of regrets. How do you explain to someone so young that he is changing the course of his life with each choice he makes? How do you convince someone that as they age, the things that seemed important in high school fade into the shadows of new goals and responsibilities? Things that seem important today won't even register as an afterthought as he navigates his way through adulthood.

I attended a session years ago and afterwards I wrote letters to the important people in my life as a way of making peace with some of my old regrets. It seems now like such a simple task, but it essentially erased any guilt I was feeling about old decisions and behaviours. It gave me the absolution I was seeking and expunged those old regrets so I could free up energy to build better relationships with the people I love. It released me.

My son, I believe, will need to search for his own panacea for peace. Maybe a letter, maybe not. First, I suppose, he needs to feel regretful and I am not certain that he has arrived at that place. I think to get there, he first needs to feel the results of his many actions and how they have limited him from achieving what is most important. Only then will he begin to dig through the aftermath in search for meaning. The best I can do for now, is to hope that when that time comes, he finds what he is looking for.

Want Some Advice?

There's a kind of person that I'm not too keen about conversing with -- the know-it-all, advice-giving control freak. You know the type...the person that has an answer for everything. The person that's done everything and, incidentally, done it better than anyone else. The person has "forgotten more than you'll ever know" and has little reason to listen since it only delays his/her giving of advice.

I am usually patient and understanding and tolerant and non-judgemental, but I've had a recent run in with a know-it-all and the situation has been stuck in my craw ever since. Recalling the discussion even causes my stomach to tighten and my jaws to tense. I won't bore you with the details, but I will take a moment to dole out my own advice to the know-it-alls out there.

Listen.

People who have problems don't always want to hear your advice. Sometimes, people with problems just want someone to listen. Now, I don't mean that you have to sit and smile while Joe tells you his 60th problem of the morning, but I do mean that you need to be more discerning in your advice-giving ways. Exercise some restraint. Ask questions instead. Help people arrive at their own answers. Here are some phrases to avoid:

• "You need to..." If you slipped and said it before successfully breaking your nasty habit, follow it up with "slow down so I can hear what you are saying to me."
• "Here's what I would do..." Unless this phrase is likely to be followed by...."turn myself in to the authorities," I suggest you refrain from using it too. I mean maybe you would, maybe you wouldn't do whatever. Fact is, nobody knows for certain how they would respond in any given situation until they're in the thick of it.
• "I don't want to harp/beat a dead horse/beleaguer the point/etc..." If you have begun a sentence with any of these phrases or something similar, the fact is you are harping/beating a dead horse/frustrating us with your continued efforts to control our lives. If you didn't want to, you wouldn't, so do us all a favour and don't.

Here are some GREAT fillers for those awkward silences when someone has unloaded their personal tragedy upon you and you need to same SOMETHING.

• "I'm sorry that you feel this way./I'm sorry that this happened to you." It's a polite little acknowledgment to show how genuinely concerned you are with the predicament and how you wish it could be different for the person. Note the absence of any direction/advice in this sentence.
• "Whatever you decide, I'm behind you; I'm sure it will all work out." Unless this is the part where you should be telling someone to turn him/herself into the authorities, this phrase helps the person know that they have the power and the possibility to change their situation. The supportive tone of the comment means that the two of you can still meet for coffee now and then without the tension that follows a relationship having a history of spurned advice.
• "I can't imagine how you must feel. How can I help?" This is soooo much more appealing than trading tragedies to make one another feel better. What's more, it puts the brakes on that kind of intimate sharing if you're not so inclined. Besides, people don't always want to pick scabs with one another. If you weren't paying attention earlier, I'll say it again...People want to be listened to.

Remember, if you're decide to continue doling out advice you had better be prepared to be held accountable for any unexpected or unwanted results that may come from following your direction. Who wants that kind of responsibility? Give advice sparingly and reluctantly. Trust me, your life will be better and so will the lives of all the other poor souls who hand you the reins to their lives while they play spectator. If you absolutely cannot help yourself, then perhaps you should consider taking a course in Victim's Assistance.

That's it! That's my rant. It's not a big thing, it's just some kind of thing.

Thanks for listening. Feel free to leave comments. No advice thank you.

Type Eh?

Kerry Crofton, PH.D., authored a book in 1998 aimed at encouraging Type A personalities to find balance in their life. The book is called, The Healthy Type A, Good News for Go-Getters, and I think it was her way of helping traditional Type-A's avoid a future of emergency-room visits. You know the type I'm talking about – impatient, often over-bearing, control freaks that jack up the office stress-level until it reaches an unbearable intensity.

I found Kerry Crofton’s book as I was browsing through the stacks at my local library earlier in the year. I had just left a highly stressful position for the second time in a row, and was becoming painfully aware that I am the common denominator in my history of punishing positions. Before I committed to a new employer, I needed to be sure that I would not condemn myself to repeating a cycle where I over-extend myself for an employer that rewards good performance with more work.

Step 1, Crofton suggests is to “Take Stock of Your Style.” On page twenty, she provides a tidy little chart to help you plot your behaviours and distinguish where you fall in the range between Unhealthy Type A and Unhealthy Type B. She asks you to consider the following (I'm paraphrasing here):

• Are you a quick-tempered war-monger or do you avoid conflict at all costs, even if it means eating your lunch in a bathroom stall?
• Are you fiercely competitive or do you prefer to keep your ambitions modest such as getting out of bed in the morning?
• Do you live by the clock or do you lose track of time to the point where you worry you may be suffering from a multiple personality disorder?
• Are you the alpha-male (or female) pack leader or are you a tail-wagger that prefers to get an enthusiastic belly rub from your loving owner?
• Are you the best thing since sliced bread or do you carry a mirror so you can confirm that you are not invisible even though people act as though you are?
• Do you embrace change with reckless abandon or run screaming in the opposite direction when someone asks you to try something new like, say, a stoned-wheat cracker?

I am honest enough to realize that where I appear on this chart could change from day-to-day so I made allowances that would let me see my high- and low-ranges for each of these answers. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my basic personality style was actually a Healthy Type B.

I’ve run with the Type A crowd for so long that I just assumed I was one of them. I put in the overtime, I sneered at the “clock watchers” with them, I networked with them after work, and I defended their unrealistic demands and expectations to my peers. I remember enjoying a 15-minute break only once when I was 18-years old and working at a food kiosk in the Kingston Shopping Centre. In 1993 I got married on a Saturday and was back to work the next week attending a Board Meeting that could not be rescheduled. The last time I took a sick day, I was refused access to my office by the staff nurse after she took my temperature, handed me an N95 surgical mask and referred me to the local emergency room. How could I be anything other than a Type A?

Even as I recall these morsels of irrational behaviour, I recognize them for what they are…distorted perceptions of self-importance inflated by arrogance. My mother warned me, “Nobody is indispensable.” But when you get caught up in building your own empire, you forget that even Caesar fell. As your empire grows, you benefit from the rewards of praise and appreciation and you may even revel a little in the envy of your peers. You are rewarded with more important projects that consume even greater amounts of your time and energy. Yes, you have arrived. People listen when you talk and nod in agreement. It’s a splendid feeling, made sweeter perhaps by the knowledge that it is fleeting.

The realization of its end comes suddenly, I think. Invariably, you find yourself locked in a moment where you are forced to choose between the empire you built and the citizens it safeguards; you must choose between the privileges of power and your very purpose for being. In that flash of honest self-examination, you look in your heart and acknowledge those things that are truly important – your health, your family, your spirit, your humanity. It was in one such moment that I understood I would rather be a great mother and a good employee than the reverse.

Is that why I am, at this very moment, a happy-go-lucky, unemployed Type B personality after more than 15 years of Type A behaviour? Could this be the reason I felt as though I wasn’t a “fit” before? Could I have been intuitively aware that my style was spectacularly different from those with whom I worked? What now? What career should I consider if I genuinely wish to protect and maintain my healthy Type B personality – store mannequin, washroom attendant, wine-taster, senator? If I return to full time employment will I slip back into my old, destructive patterns? More questions. Always more questions.

I’m going back to the library stacks to see if I can find some self-help materials written for and by Type B personalities. Perhaps I’ll find a tidy little chart in that book that will expose me as the Type A worker I always understood myself to be. Then again, I wonder if I’ll be able to find such a book. After all, what is the likelihood that a book has ever been written by anyone other than a Type A?