I Ain’t The Bees Knees And Other Things I Discovered At A Roaring 20’s Fundraiser

Posted on February 10, 2014 by KB

Ok, maybe I didn’t discover it, so much as confirm it.

When Zoe joined her select soccer team last spring, there was mention of a fundraiser, but it was so far out that I didn’t really give it another thought. As it got closer, we sold the raffle tickets to win cash or a car, and I vaguely paid attention to the emails coming through about the fundraiser party.

Then I became team manager, and I got an email that stated our team had to sell 6 fundraiser event tickets, and we had sold none. No one from our team had purchased tickets or was planning to attend. I told my husband we needed to go, and thankfully we got a new girl on our team, whose parents jumped right in and bought two tickets. One girl’s parents have a son who also plays for the club, so they had bought one ticket and planned on buying another. That left us one short, so I invited my mother.

I went online to buy our three tickets at $65 a piece. That bought us each a drink coupon, some gaming tokens, and “heavy appetizers.” I figured if they wanted to make a lot of money they should have made it one appetizer coupon and heavy drinks, but I needn’t have worried. ( I’ll get to that in a minute.)

I clicked to purchase the tickets, only to be popped back to the order screen. There was no confirmation, so I figured I must have done it wrong. I tried again. Same thing. I tried a third time (Yes, I Know) only to have the same thing happen. Then I realized I might have accidentally purchased many more tickets than I had intended. I went into my email, and there I found three confirmations of three separate purchases of 3 tickets each, for $585. My husband was going to kill me.

I frantically emailed the club to let them know what I had done, and I got a response from the woman running it saying, “I was wondering what was going on!” Thankfully it hadn’t debited yet, and she was able to fix it.

I knew the event was casino themed. Originally I had misread the invite and thought it was AT a casino. I had skimmed the details enough to know the date and time, but didn’t really read much more than that. Friday afternoon when I was leaving the school from picking up Parker (Zoe was excited to be riding a school bus to a friend’s house for a birthday sleepover) I ran into a friend who said, “I’ll see you tonight!”

I said, “Oh, yeah. What are you wearing?”

She said, “I may have to wear this! I’m on the go today, and the flapper dress I ordered isn’t going to work.”

“The what?”

“Flapper dress. You know, it’s roaring 20’s, gangster themed.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to.”

Now, most people would have thrown their hands in the air and said, “Oh well. I didn’t know, no one will blame me for not running out and getting a roaring 20’s costume.”

Of course, most people don’t have not one but TWO flapper dresses, along with accessories, at their house.

I texted my mother to give her the heads up, and she wasn’t thrilled with the short notice either. When I got home, I told my husband who looked at me and said, “I’m not going.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“I’m not gonna make you dress up. You’ll be fine. Not everyone is dressing up.”

I looked again at the invitation, and saw that it said to come as your favorite gangster (I briefly considered coming as Justin Bieber dressed as Tupac Shakur, but decided that probably wasn’t what they were looking for.)

I took Nathan to the DMV to get his permit, and the whole time, I was trying to decide if I was going to go in costume or not.

On the one hand, I like dressing up.

On the other hand, these are soccer parents. What were the odds that these sweatsuit wearing, cooler toting people would dress up as gangsters and flappers?

I emailed one of the parents I knew would be there. “Are you dressing up as a flapper?”

I got a one word reply: NO.

When I got home from the DMV I pulled the dresses out, put one on and stared at myself. It wasn’t terrible, although I was pretty sure if I stood in the wrong light, the dress was completely see-through. Also, it was 20 degrees outside.

I pulled on some leggings and a sweater. Jeff came in, took one look at me, said, “Oh,” and walked back out.

I googled 20’s hairstyles and found a messy side bun look with a headband that I thought I might be able to pull off.

When I was finished, Jeff returned to the bathroom. I said, “Does this look stupid?”

He said, “It is what it is,” and walked back out.

Apparently, this is NOT what I looked like:

When we finally got to the event, after dropping Parker off with my Dapper (According to a 20’s website I looked at, dapper means a flapper’s father) and picking up my mother (no term found for mother), it was nearly 30 minutes in.

I anxiously looked around, and other than a couple strands of pearls, I saw NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON dressed in any 20’s attire. Not even the women working the check-in desk.

My husband started chuckling, and found it difficult to stop. He was loving this.

I kept my coat buttoned, but fringe kept making its way out. Besides, hard to miss the sequin headband in my hair.

We peeked in the first room, and located our table number. There was no one in there yet, and since there were desserts lined up along the counter, I assumed this was where the live auction would take place.

We headed upstairs, where I ran into my friend, not dressed up. I said, “NO ONE is dressed up! No one!”

She said, “I think I saw one or two.”

I said, “I feel like an idiot.”

She said, “It’s not so bad. You can barely tell you’re dressed like a flapper.”

I used my drink ticket and started chugging wine.

We went into the silent auction area, and I have to say, I was very impressed. There were a lot of items, and pretty much every item was a great one. There was autographed sport memorabilia, wine tasting events, vacation condos, entertainment baskets, private coaching. If I had to guess, there were at least 200 items.

We checked everything out, and decided to bid on a few things. We made our way back out and went through the food line, settling in to a side table. The first round of appetizers were good, but definitely light. I was a little concerned about my food to alcohol ratio, as I had skipped lunch and tend to be a lightweight anyways. I started planning which drive-through I was going to make him go to on the way home after the event.

I spent some time talking to friends before they called us all downstairs for the live auction to begin. I had counted one other flapper with a feather coming out of her head, and a woman in a black dress and pearls. No gangsters, only one guy with a bowtie. Thankfully, our table was in the back. They had placed us with Zoe’s two coaches and their wives. I’ve socialized with a lot of the team parents, but never with the coaches, so it was a bit awkward for all of us.

The first part of the auction was the dessert dash. We didn’t really know what we were doing, so we found the paper on the table and entered “25.00” on the sheet. Right away someone came and took the form. They began calling out table numbers, to indicate who was the highest dessert bidder. As the tables were called out, they would send one person up to grab a dessert to share with the whole table. Apparently 25.00 wasn’t a lot for a cake, because we were one of the last tables called. I grabbed a dark chocolate ganache cake. My husband said, “There wasn’t any cheesecake?” (FYI he hasn’t dropped the conversation of the cheesecake yet. Every night since he’s brought up how he really wishes we had cheesecake, and he doesn’t understand why we still don’t have any.)

Then the live auction began. The items were amazing- 4 hour boat rentals, guided fishing trips, a condo In Mazatlan. The starting prices were high and went even higher. In between items, they would auction off rounds of shots in rave glasses

or Jell-O shots

Some of these lots were going for more than $10 per shot, with 10-20 shots in each lot. At one point the guy who made the shots came by and handed me one. I took it, and then realized I probably should have asked first what I owed him. Thankfully he was just being nice.

The shots helped loosen the bidding even more. Two different people paid $275 each to get a karaoke party with one of the coaches.

By the time they got around to the big item- the mansion in Kona for 10 days, people were sufficiently boozed up and the item went for well over 8k.

After the live auction was over, we headed back upstairs to pay for the silent auction items we’d won, if any. When we got up there, we discovered that a second round of appetizers had come out, and these were even better than the first. Gorgonzola chicken salad on a puff, Blt’s on mini croissants, pulled pork sliders on sweet rolls with coleslaw. I grabbed a plate and a slider, and went to get in line.

Dang, was that a good slider. One of my favorite food combos in the world is spicy BBQ with fresh coleslaw on a sweet roll.

As I was enjoying this blissful creation, my husband came up to me and asked me a question. I began to answer, but instead, inhaled a chunk of coleslaw straight into my lungs. I started choking and coughing. My husband started laughing. My eyes began watering, tears streaming down my face. He patted me on the back. (Has that EVER worked? Ever?)

He asked if I wanted water, but since the problem was cabbage in my lung, I didn’t think it would help, and all I could do was nod or shake my head and managed to say “won’t help.” He continued laughing. He made all sorts of comments about not being able to take me anywhere, and “You sure did a number on that slider!” “You must have really liked that slider!”

The man in front of me, also trying not to laugh because Jeff was laughing so hard, kept watching me to see if I was going to completely keel over. He left and came back with water. I accepted it and choked out a “Thank you” and a glare at my husband.

He said, “You said it wouldn’t help!”

At this point I’m trying to salvage what’s left of my dignity. It was bad enough that I was overdressed in the strongest sense of the word, now I’ve coughed, choked and cried in front of a couple hundred people. Oh, and I am pretty sure I spewed food as well.

Question- what happens to coleslaw once it enters your lungs? Can you die from it?

For the rest of the time we were there, the man who had brought me water seemed to be watching me, as if waiting for me to do something else embarrassing/entertaining.

By the time I got to the front of the line, I was able to talk again. They looked up my information and found that we had only won one item- a behind the scenes tour at a Seattle Sounders training practice. I knew Zoe would love it. My mother had won some strange sand-like substance. Two boxes, actually.

The event wasn’t over- the gaming tables had just opened. However, I was done. We loaded our stuff in the car, dropped my mother off, picked up Parker and headed home.

As I got ready for bed, I looked in the bathroom mirror.

“Um, at what point did my mascara make its way significantly below my eyelashes?” I called into the bedroom.

He responded, “I didn’t notice it pre-slider incident, but I did notice it post-slider incident.”

Wonderful.

Truth is, not only wasn’t I the bees knees, I wasn’t the kitten’s ankles, the monkey’s eyebrows or the Goat’s whiskers.

So instead of ending the evening like this:

I looked more like this:

If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I meant to look like a zombie flapper.

IIIIIII Love A Parade! (Sort Of)

Posted on February 6, 2014 by KB

It was the best of times… it was the worst of times.

Ok, so maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but that was the phrase that kept echoing through my mind yesterday as I stood in downtown Seattle along with my two youngest children and about 700,000 other people in the bitter cold to celebrate our Seahawks winning the Super Bowl.

I’ve had a lot of people ask me the same question- was it worth it?

It’s one of those questions that’s not a simple yes or no. But if I had to pick one, I’d say yes. It’s a lot easier to say that while I am currently indoors with the heat blasting, but I will tell you, I know the exact moment when I realized that yes, it was all worth it. And I was still a human popsicle at the time.

Let me back up a bit, first.

OH MY GOSH THE SEAHAWKS WON THE SUPER BOWL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s still a little surreal. Every once in a while I have to repeat that and pinch myself to believe it.

As I said in my post http://kbjackson.com/what-danny-bonaduce-guinness-and-colin-kaepernicks-eyebrow-all-have-in-common/ I have been a football fan pretty much my entire life. I became a Seahawks fan shortly after moving to Washington State in the late 70’s. I attended games in the Kingdome with my family. I cheered on Jim Zorn and Steve Largent, Dave Krieg and Kenny Easley. I watched my Hawks get into the playoffs many times in the early 80’s and lose to Oakland or Denver. It seemed we just were never quite good enough to take it all the way. Mostly, we were perpetual losers.

And then came 1996. The owner at the time moved my beloved team to Los Angeles. I’d like to go on record as saying that while I believe in general a business owner has every right to move his business elsewhere, it’s a nasty, awful thing to take a sports team away from its fans. We’ve had it done not once, but twice.

hawksmove2 Fans attempted to blockade the moving trucks with the Seahawks’ gear and equipment.

Thankfully, that nasty old earthquake death trap Kingdome had an iron-clad lease that prevented the move from happening. Local Microsoft billionaire and homegrown boy Paul Allen bought the team, invested in the team, and is a huge reason why the Lombardi trophy is in Seattle.

We had a close one in 2005. We here in Seattle don’t like to talk about that Super Bowl.

So when the parade to celebrate this city and this team was announced, I knew I had to be there.

With a parade start time of 11am, I began to calculate the time we would have to leave home to get there. Turned out that was at nofreakingwaycouldIleavethatearly o’clock.

Plan B: rent a hotel room in Seattle.

I went online and rooms were booking fast. At one point, Expedia said “1143 people are also currently looking at this hotel.” Many of the reasonable, close hotels were booked. I switched to Priceline. They had an express deal they were calling “Downtown Seattle-Pike Place” 3 star for $99. I jumped on it.

Funny thing, though, apparently Priceline considers Capitol Hill Downtown/Pike Place. No matter that it’s nearly a mile and a half straight downhill to get to the market, and nearly a mile and a half straight uphill on one of the steepest grades in the city of Seattle to get back.

I got onto Priceline chat and the person I chatted with told me in no uncertain terms I was locked in. I said, “Have you heard of Sir Mix-a-lot? When he sings about his posse being on Broadway… THIS is the area he’s talking about. Capitol Hill is NOT downtown/Pike Place.”

She was not swayed.

Turned out the hotel itself is nice, and that area of Capitol Hill is a lot safer than I had remembered from my college days. It’s right across from Seattle University and Swedish hospital. Other than an empty bottle of vodka sitting on a wall that Zoe “accidentally knocked over,” it was pretty clean.

On our way down into Seattle, I looked up at the sky and as I looked at the clouds, I thought I saw an image. I snapped a quick picture.

When I posted and tweeted it, I didn’t suggest what I thought it looked like. I only said I saw something interesting. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who saw it, because soon the picture went viral.

I’m not sure if it’s visible, but as of this morning, the posting on the local news station’s website has over 3500 likes on the photo and over 2200 shares.

If you can’t see it, look at this, and then look at the cloud pic again.

Like someone said, maybe you have to be a Hawks fan to see it. It doesn’t bother me if people think it’s a stretch. I thought some comments were unnecessarily rude. And it did make me realize that anonymity is a beautiful thing. With my name on the photo and people making not always positive comments, I felt a little bit like I had a target on my back. Turns out my skin is pretty thin. I may have to work on that.

Anyways, we checked into the hotel and then made our way down to the restaurant for dinner. Other than Zoe accidentally ending up in the men’s room, it was pretty uneventful. We went to the pool for a bit, met other fans who were there for the parade, and then headed back up to go to bed. Zoe passed out first, and Parker ended up discovering the movie “Spaceballs.” All day yesterday he kept saying, “Yogurt! I hate Yogurt! Even with strawberries!”

The alarm went off at 7am with “Can’t Hold Us” by Macklemore playing. Seemed an appropriate start to the day.

wearing their championship shirts before covering them up in 4 layers

The kids were moving in slow motion, and by the time we got downstairs it was 8 o’clock. I saw a group of people sitting in the lobby in Seahawks gear. I said, “Is this the waiting area for the shuttle?”

They said, “Oh no. We aren’t waiting for the shuttle. It’s full until 9. We’re gonna walk.”

They gave us directions on how to get downtown.

I looked at my kids and said, “Well, it’s looks like we’re walking.”

We started heading down Broadway towards James. (I later found out we could have taken Madison and saved us a lot of time and energy) There was a homeless man walking across the street in front of us. Coming from the opposite direction was a tall black kid, maybe about 19 years old, carrying a backpack. As he passed the man, he held out some money, no words other than a “thank you” were said. I looked at Zoe and said, “That was beautiful.” She smiled and nodded her head.

Parker dawdled most of the way downtown.

He’s like my own Marshawn Lynch, only instead of Beats by Dre, he has on gingerbread man earmuffs

My thought was that once we got to 4th Ave and scoped out the crowd, we would find a place to get coffee and something to eat. I was not prepared for lines at the three coffee places in the center we went into to each have lines that rival Disneyland. Starbucks had like 75 people in line. The other two, maybe 30 each. I picked a bakery and got in line. I overheard one of the girls who was working there say “This morning we’ve already gone through as much coffee as we normally do in a week.” It was 9am.

I waited for about 30 minutes before getting my turn to order. They were already out of milk chocolate, so the only cocoas they were selling were white chocolate. I ordered a drip coffee for myself, plus two bacon and egg sandwiches and some oatmeal. Another 30 minutes later, and the food was ready. I found out at that point that the coffee was self serve and I could have gotten it right away. About 10 minutes later, the white hot chocolates came up. Both of my kids took one sip and grimaced.

We would never survive an apocalypse.

We found a spot that I considered primo- it was a fenced off area in front of a closed restaurant. It looked like the kind of area where they set tables out on warm summer evenings. I liked it because there was a permanent separation from the passing crowd, and if I needed to put Parker on my shoulders, I wouldn’t be blocking anyone.

Zoe wasn’t having it.

We walked closer to the start of the parade route, only to find the crowd thickening. I convinced her to turn back and go further south. Eventually we found a spot that was right behind two rows of chairs. People had been camping out all night for curbside seats. I put a blanket down on the ground, and stood behind the kids. They bundled up close and tried to keep warm in the 26 degree temps with a 19 degree wind chill. We stood there for a bit before three women and a boy showed up. They started moving in between me and the kids to get to a sport further up. I said, “You’re not really going to go in front of us are you?” Apparently they were surprised that I would actually comment. One of the girls stood with the boy in front of me, and another said, we just want to make sure he can see.”

I was trying not to be a bitch, but I wasn’t happy.

One of the women assured me they would make a spot for Zoe and Parker when the time came.

Then the rest of their group showed up. They began pushing in front of me also.

I said, “How many of your group are planning on getting in front of me?”

They looked stunned that I said anything. The guy said, “We just want to make sure he sees, I don’t really care.”

I said, “I get that. But we were here first and now all of you are trying to get in front, and it’s a little frustrating.”

Meanwhile, one of the girls, maybe 13 or 14, who was seated in the front row chairs, had taken it upon herself to start taking care of Zoe and Parker. I looked down and said, “Whose blanket is that?”

Zoe said, “It’s hers. She put it over us.” Throughout the morning, I saw the girl continually adjusting the blanket to make sure the kids were covered and warm. Faith in humanity restored.

Soon, a group of teenage boys were crawling past us, going onto the street. The people who had been there all night were getting upset because the police were not making everyone stay on the sidewalk, and crowds were filling in in front of their chairs. I watched several women kicking newcomers out of the area. Some moved on, some didn’t care what they said. They had shown up at the last minute and were going to get a good spot, regardless. It was starting to make me anxious.

I looked across the way at the courthouse building where I could see people looking out floor to ceiling windows. I contemplated getting myself arrested just to be able to watch the parade from indoors.

It was noon and the parade, which was supposed to start at 11, had still not arrived. My kids were miserable and cold. I made a decision.

“We’re going north. We’re going to try to find a spot as close to the start of the parade, so we can see it, be done, and go get warm somewhere.”

Parker stayed bundled in the blanket, and we started our journey. The crowds were like nothing I had ever seen before.

Seattle City Hall

At 12:12, by the Governor’s decree, a moment of loudness commenced.

We were like salmon swimming upstream in a marijuana-infused stream. There were, as I heard someone say, a lot of people “smoking the state flower.”

At a certain point, though, everything came to a halt. There was no movement. I was getting pushed from behind, but there was a wall of people in front of me. Zoe was bumping into Parker, who in turn began punching her and elbowing her. I tried explaining that she wasn’t pushing him on purpose, but he was getting pretty angry. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of swearing, a lot of pushing. Eventually someone went hulk and made a path. We got pushed through and up onto a side street. There were hundreds of people on that street, trying to look onto 4th to see the parade.

I said, “I’m done fighting.”

Parker said, “I wanna go home.”

Zoe said, “I can’t see! Did we really do all this not to see the parade?”

I looked at her and I said, “Take your brother. Wiggle yourselves into a place where you can see.”

They made their way through the crowd to the intersection. I said a prayer that I would find them again.

Finally, the parade began.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfCifEpVx98

The first part of the parade was the team buses with no one inside them. After they passed by, I saw Zoe and Parker running towards me through the crowd.

“We got up front! We saw the parade!”

I said, “That wasn’t the parade. That was just the beginning. Get back in there!”

They ran back through the crowd.

Just as Marshawn Lynch made his way to our intersection, throwing skittles at the crowd, my phone died. I couldn’t believe it. I still had 30% battery life, and my phone shut down and said it needed to be connected to a battery.

Later I found out that this happened to several people I know. I have heard many explanations, such as overloading of the towers, cold temperatures affecting battery life, the 911 system not working properly so callers were being asked to limit calls.

None of these explanations satisfy me. It was 26 degrees, and if phone batteries shut down when it’s 26 degrees, does that mean no one in the Midwest or east coast has been able to use their phones all winter?

I wasn’t making phones calls, or on Facebook. I wasn’t even sending texts. All I was doing was taking pictures. I wasn’t zapping cell strength or tower strength.

And shutting down the phones wouldn’t help the 911 problem, it would create a new one- people unable to call 911 because their phones weren’t working.

I plan on getting to the bottom of this, you have my word on it.

So I didn’t get pictures of the actual parade. I got pre-parade pictures.

The good news is that a lot of my friends got great shots, including my friend Gretta Kosanovich who got these shots of the actual parade:

But the best part was the look on Zoe and Parker’s faces when they came back in excitement to tell me about seeing Marshawn Lynch throwing skittles at them, Richard Sherman, “the coach” and everyone.

That’s what made it ALL worth it.

We walked with the crowds until we got to the street that we had come down in the morning. It loomed steeply before us, but we just started hiking.

Halfway up the street, we came across a rat. A squashed rat.

Parker insisted I take a picture, and I told him my phone had died. I pulled it out, attempted to turn it on, and well, whatta ya know? It turned on with 27% battery life left. Totally suspicious.

I think in Parker’s eyes, this rivals seeing Marshawn Lynch. boys.

It took us an hour to get out of Seattle yesterday afternoon. We were starving so we stopped off at a Red Robin- 45 minute wait.

I piled them back into the car, but by then we were all craving Red Robin. Next mall closer to our house? 45- an hour wait. At 330 on a Wednesday!

I hear that in Seattle alone, 13000 students and over 500 teachers were absent yesterday. No count yet on the outlying districts, or the amount of people who skipped work. A woman next to me said to her boyfriend, “My boss said not to come in if I don’t feel good. And I don’t feel good- I feel great!” Over 700,000 people were at the parade yesterday, and only 650,000 live in the city. No one was arrested and people remained mostly in good spirits.

We were surrounded by people of all ethnic, racial, religious and political backgrounds, cheering together, united. This place is special, and I’m glad we were a part of it.

It was a long day. It was cold. It was frustrating at times. I’m not saying I wouldn’t do it again if I had it to do over, but I’m glad I don’t have to do it over again.

It really was ONCE in a lifetime.

Go Hawks!

Dear Diary: Musings From My 21 Day Social Media Fast (Pt 3 of 3)

Posted on January 24, 2014 by KB

Day 15–

Zoe left today for 6 days in Arizona with her Grandma. Packing her suitcase filled with swimsuits and shorts was strange.

The weather here is pretty gloomy and it made me think I need to be creating a little sunshine in my life. There are a few ways I like to do this-

Buy a pineapple. There’s nothing like a pineapple to remind me of sunshine, summer, tropical places.
Music. Make a playlist of songs that remind me of a warm vacation or a summer day. This is, of course, very personal. My playlist probably wouldn’t work for anyone but me. Songs that transport me mentally to warmer locales are songs that were popular around the time I went on my first trip to Hawaii in the early 80’s. “Let the Music Play” by Shannon, “Africa” by Toto, anything from Lionel Richie’s “Can’t Slow Down” album, and a lot of Hall and Oates. I know it’s weird, that’s why I said it’s a personal thing. General tropical or reggae music works too- Bruddah IZ, Inner Circle, Bob Marley. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaGUr6wzyT8
Get some flowers. No roses- they need to be tropical. Here in the Seattle area we have the Hawaii General Store, and they sell freshly made plumeria and pikake leis. Sometimes I will make the 30 minute drive just to buy one to keep in my fridge. When I am feeling down or stressed, I open the fridge, pull out the plastic container and take a giant whiff of heaven. I also will grab a hyacinth if they are in season. Occasionally you can find mini pineapple plants at the grocery store. They don’t have flowers, but they make everything feel more exotic. Jasmine always smells yummy.
Another sensory thing I like to do is put on perfume or lotion that reminds me of the tropics. Kai perfume, Maui Rain perfume, ginger, plumeria, pikake, mango or coconut lotions. When you close your eyes and take a whiff it’s like for that moment you’re in an island paradise. Candles work too.
My local frozen yogurt shop has limited edition sorbets that come and go on a rotating basis. Currently they have POG (passion orange guava, also available at the store in juice form) but my favorite is the Dole pineapple whip like you can get at the Dole Plantation in Hawaii or at the Tiki room at Disneyland. I also like to mix coconut froyo in with my chocolate to give it a summery taste. My husband calls that “ruining it,” but he’s wrong. it’s amazing.

POG Sorbet

6. Movies/TV. “50 first dates,” “Just go with it,” “Honeymoon in Vegas,” “Lilo and Stitch” are some films with tropical themes. As with my music playlist, I have always connected “The Thorn Birds” with Hawaii because it came out around the time we went for my first trip. And of course, for TV shows,” Hawaii 5-0” and “Magnum PI” are two of my favorites. HGTV and National Geographic each have travel shows. A summery read can help you mentally escape also.

7. Bring color into my home. There’s nothing that gets me out of a mid-winter funk like bright colors. I think I may go hang out at the Tommy Bahama store for a while and just pretend I’m somewhere else, and then bring home a couple new throw pillows. Last year I painted a giant picture of a Caribbean waterfront scene.

8. Plan a vacation. ‘Nuff said.

Day 16–

Sydney made curry again today, this time when she showed up at lunchtime with three of her friends. I was still in my pajamas. (Don’t ask me why I was still in my pajamas at noon.) I’ve noticed that even after the pans have been thoroughly cleaned, when I set an empty pan on the burner to heat up, the smell of curry comes wafting up again. Don’t get me wrong- I love that she’s teaching herself to cook, and that she’s experimenting with interesting foods. But I think I’m ready for her to move on to something other than curry.

I went in search of a new trash can today for my kitchen. I have had my current cans (I have a second for recycling) for 10 years now, and they are definitely in need of replacement, but I’m having a tough time letting go. You see, the trash cans I have are 18 gallon trash cans. They are tall, slim and rectangular, and they fit perfectly up against my kitchen island. But they don’t make 18 gallon cans anymore, and it’s getting harder and harder to find the trash bags that fit them.

The standard kitchen trash can is 13 gallons. Many are round or oval, which won’t sit flush against my cabinets. Plus, that extra 5 gallons of trash space means that’s how much less the trash needs to be taken out. I’ve resigned myself to the reality I will never find another 18 gallon can, but I refuse to spend $130 for a stupid trash can. Unless it takes itself out, I don’t see how they can justify charging that much. I didn’t see any today that I can live with. The search continues…

Meanwhile, my maturity level doesn’t seem to be improving on this hiatus.

Parker: Hey! You already had a cookie!

Me: So? Mind your own beeswax.

Parker: Well, that kinda means I can have another one too.

Me: No, it doesn’t mean that. I made ‘em. I can eat as many as I want.

Sometimes it feels good to use the phrase “mind your own beeswax.” I think I will do it more often.

Day 17–

I scheduled myself a massage for today. Before you start thinking that I’m some pampered housewife, you should know that I go to Massage Envy, which is like the Target of massage places. It’s typically found in strip-malls and for the bargain price of 39$ you can get a decent one hour massage. I originally became a member when we lived in Huntington Beach. After trying several different people, I finally found the perfect masseuse. About 2 months later we moved.

Since we relocated up here in Washington, I have gone through a variety and have yet to find the one I want to commit to. I went to see one guy for quite a while, but he liked to talk religion and politics and I always came out of my massages more stressed than I went in.

The next guy was amaaaazing. I think at one point during a massage he had a foot up on the wall for leverage. He did something to the base of my skull that was pure ecstasy. About 2 weeks after my first appointment with him, I called to make another, and was told he had transferred. I went into a period of mourning.

I did the masseuse merry-go-round for another several months, and ended up with a young muscle-headed guy who worked at a body building supplement store when he wasn’t giving massages. He liked to talk football and conspiracy theories. At one point, he tried to tell me that he found out through genealogy that he was related to King David. You know, David. Bathsheba. Goliath. That David. Sometimes I would make up conspiracies and say “have you heard about…” just to hear what he would say.

I took a break from Massage Envy for over a year while I was in physical therapy from my car accident, so this was my first massage there in quite a while. As a matter of fact, they looked me up in the system and found that I had 16 massages saved up (you get one per month with a membership.)

When I called to make the appointment, the first person they offered was the religion/politics guy. I said, “Uh, who else do you have available?” The said another name, which I didn’t recognize. I thought unknown was better than the “Why did you stop seeing me?” conversation I would have to have with the other guy. Besides, I really needed to be able to relax.

I will say the new guy gave a decent massage. He’s got some strange affected whispery breathy voice that I’m not a fan of, but I’m willing to give him another chance. When he whispered, “How do you feel about me working your abs?” I almost bolted. He didn’t smell like smoke or his lunch, which is always a plus, and he didn’t talk except to ask about pressure. The sound of his hands slurping together as he oiled them up was a little off-putting, and they were sort of cold at first, but they warmed up. Since I have so many saved up, I’m going back in a week. Fingers crossed that I have got a keeper!

Day 18–

Have you seen the movie “About Time” with Rachel McAdams? If not, I highly recommend it. It’s a beautiful movie, and it probably didn’t get the attention it deserved from the general public. The premise is that a young man, Tim, is called into his father’s library to be told that the men in their family are able to travel back in time. They cannot travel forward, except back to the time they had come from, and they cannot travel beyond their own lives.

His initial goal is to use it to help him find a girlfriend. He does. And they create a beautiful life together. As time goes on he realizes the consequences of making changes in his choices. He has to be willing to let some bad events remain because in undoing the bad, sometimes it can undo the good in his life as well. We like to isolate incidents, but so much is connected, part of the progression of life. Like the domino effect.

It sounds like a silly movie, but in reality, it teaches a great lesson. After all that he experiences over the course of several years with this amazing ability, he says, “And in the end I think I’ve learned the final lesson from my travels in time; and I’ve even gone one step further than my father did: The truth is I now don’t travel back at all, not even for the day, I just try to live every day as if I’ve deliberately come back to this one day, to enjoy it, as if it was the full final day of my extraordinary, ordinary life.”

I, of course, had tears streaming down my face by this time. I feel as though that’s the point of this whole endeavor I have undertaken these past three weeks. I want to be present in my own life, to experience it fully, not just in pieces. I want to really see the people standing in front of me, I want to appreciate the small details, expand my horizons and live in joy.

Day 19–

Well, this morning when I got on my phone, I discovered that my Facebook app was open. Either someone has figured out my password and was looking at my account, or I did it in my sleep. At this point, I’d say either is a possibility. Are there many documented cases of Sleep-Facebooking?

If there ever was a day I wish I could be on Facebook, it’s today. The best part of Facebook is being able to share experiences with people near and far, and today I want to be cheering on my Seahawks with all my friends.

I bought a new jersey to wear- a Marshawn Lynch. They are so tough to come by I ended up with a youth XL. That a youth-sized shirt fits is great for my ego. That it has a giant patch on the front that says “XL,” not so much.

We are headed in a bit to the neighbors’ to watch the game. I went to the grocery store to grab stuff to make bean dip and it was a surreal experience. Except for two 49’er fans, every single person I saw had some sort of Seahawks gear on. There’s a palpable buzz in the air, everyone looking at each other with nervous smiles. Since the very last game of last season, we’ve all sensed this could be it. That finally, after all these years of disappointment, the refs gifting the Steelers a win in our only Super bowl appearance, this is our year.

Even Sydney is putting on a Seahawks shirt and heading to the church to watch the game on the giant screen.

________________________________________________________________

I can’t believe it. We won. We’re actually going to the Super Bowl.

I don’t know that I have ever watched a more stressful, aggravating, exciting game in my life.

I went from nervous eating to feeling nauseated.

I was sitting hunched forward. I was standing. I was up, I was down.

Parker had no clue what was happening, but when the other boys lost their minds with excitement, so did he.

When that ball tipped into the hands of Malcolm Smith it took me a moment to understand what it meant. My husband ran over to give me the double high fives and said “we’re going to the super bowl!” It was over. We won. There was screaming and hugging. I believe I launched myself awkwardly into the arms of one of my neighbors.

It was blissful, euphoric. A feeling relatively unknown to Seattle sports fans. And I savored every moment.

There’s been a lot of talk about Richard Sherman’s comments in his post-game interview. I have no intention of going into any long dissertation on the topic. It’s been talked about to death. I will only say, Richard Sherman is an intelligent, passionate player. He is a good man who gives back to this community and the one in which he grew up. I am proud that he is a Seattle Seahawk.

The end.

Me with Richard Sherman’s brother Branton

Day 20–

Today, we honor the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King jr.

Today, I am reading, Twitter is afire with racist tweets.

Sickening.

There’s a common misperception that racial hate always stems from ignorance. If only that were true.

It’s probably because when someone spews racial epithets, they sound ignorant. Stupid. Moronic.

Many times their sentences are riddled with grammatical errors.

Often, their posts on Facebook and Twitter are filled with misspellings.

Unfortunately, if ignorance was the root cause, it could be solved with education.

However, when major university fraternities are hosting racially offensive theme parties, you start to realize it’s not just about ignorance.

Racists run the gamut from the least educated in our society to the elites.

The way I grew up, the environment in which I was raised didn’t prepare me for dealing with people who proudly, publicly post disgusting racially charged words for the whole world to read.

I continue to be shocked and horrified, and my black friends continue to be surprised at my shock and horror. Much to the contrary of the claims that people are constantly trying to cry racism even where none is intended, most of the racism that happens every day goes unreported. It’s just a part of life. It’s expected.

The outrage is reserved for naïve whites like me.

Somewhere along the way a contingent of our country decided that we live in a “post-racial” America. That we are so far removed from our past of slavery, segregation, institutional racism, that our having elected a biracial president means racism has ended.

It hasn’t. We’ve just gotten better at disguising it.

I hear people say they’re tired of this conversation on race. “Get over it already.” “It’s in the past.”

And then I see those who feel emboldened in their tweets, their Facebook postings, their interviews on international news channels.

I was going to post some examples, but I don’t want to give a forum to those people.

I don’t have far-reaching impact on the world around me. But I do have impact on my kids, and I realized a few years ago that it’s not enough to just not set a bad example for my kids, it’s imperative I set a good example. Not one based on platitudes, but one based on my deeply held beliefs regarding the value of all human beings.

I asked Parker if he knew why we celebrate Dr. King’s birthday. He said he couldn’t remember.

I tried to think of something that would help him understand, that he wouldn’t zone out while I was explaining.

“So, you know London’s parents?”

“Yes.”

“There used to be a time when it was against the law for them to be married. Because of the color of their skin.”

“You mean because his dad is brown?”

“Yes. And people would be mean to those who had brown skin. They forced them to do things they didn’t want to do. They didn’t let them live where they wanted to live, or work where they wanted to work. And you and London- people wouldn’t be okay with you being friends with each other. Just because his skin is darker than yours. That’s what Martin Luther King fought against. He fought for you to be able to be friends with London.”

His eyes got big.

He got it.

A couple of weeks ago, Zoe said ” I know what the N word is now.”

(Last year she came home from school saying that a kid in her class had told her there was such a thing, and she wanted to know if it was true. I said yes, but that we never use that word, and I didn’t feel she needed to know what it was.)

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well, I had a black crayon, and my friend was looking at it. Under the word black it had another word. She said, ‘that’s the N word.'”

“Well. No. Negro is Spanish for the color black. Pronounced differently, it’s the term that people used to use when referring to the people who are black. No one really uses it anymore, it’s outdated and offensive. But it’s not the N word. The N word comes from that word though.”

“Oh. ”

I have to admit, I was relieved. She’s gonna hear it eventually, but I’m glad to know that time hasn’t come yet. Until she understands the history of that word, until she understands why it’s not ok, how it’s been used, it is meaningless.

I kind of like that the word has no power in her mind. I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Day 21–

Well, this is it- my last full day off of Facebook. I’m a little apprehensive, to tell the truth. I don’t know what exactly to expect.

I picked Zoe up from the airport this morning. I’m happy to have her home following her week in Arizona with her grandma. I took her to lunch and she told me funny stories about her adventures.

Afterwards we headed to the pet store to pick out a fish to keep Angel company. Now we have a new goldfish named Juicy, and Zoe has renamed Angel “Bruno.” She also got herself a beta fish that she has named “Cali.”

A few people have asked me what I have learned about myself over the past three weeks. I wish I could say that I had this amazing life-transformative experience. It turns out I’m the same person I was 3 weeks ago. I have found that if I want to disconnect or mentally escape, I’ll find a way. I’d probably have to get stranded on a desert island without electronics in order to truly break myself of these habits I have created.

I did make more of an effort to connect face to face with people, and I have tried to really listen to the people who are talking to me. I have spent more time watching my kids, and engaging them in conversations than I have in quite a while. Most of Parker’s conversations have to do with video games or toys or something he saw on a show or a video game. But instead of just nodding my head absently and saying, “oh really?” (they have all caught on that I have been doing that when I am not really listening) I have tried to ask follow up questions. I’ve gotten insight into how they think and how they view things around them.

I’ve also noticed how much OTHER people use their phones and tablets to disconnect. I think that has been eye-opening, viewing others through the lens that I’m sure people have often seen me.

I’m not making promises about the future. I haven’t cured myself of my social media addiction. I do think I have learned to manage it a bit better.

I guess time will tell.

I’m excited to see what everyone has been up to. And what they’ve been eating.

Thanks for your patience during this experiment… And hopefully I didn’t lose you guys in the meantime.

It’s 11:55… Maybe I’ll just take a peek. What’s 5 minutes anyways?

Dear Diary: Musings From My 21 Day Social Media Fast (Pt2)

Posted on January 23, 2014 by KB

Day 8-

I picked out Parker’s clothes last night for him to wear to school today. He came downstairs wearing them and said, “I look like a DJ.” I’m not sure if that was a compliment or a complaint.

I got my hair done today, which is often my favorite day of the month (well, technically every 5 weeks.) I get terrible reception in the salon, and usually it drives me crazy that I can’t get on Facebook while I’m there. Instead I read my kindle and got pampered.

Meanwhile, Facebook started sending me emails and messages begging me to post something, like a clingy ex-girlfriend. After all this time, did you really think I had simply FORGOTTEN to post? Silence means there’s nothing to say, get it Facebook, ya stalker?

1:33 am? Really? Was it last call at the bar and you didn’t want to go home without one last try?

And now tonight I came to the end of Candy Crush. Again. I may have to take up knitting. Or drinking.

Or both.

I decided to fill my night by building a bookcase. I’m kinda impressed with myself about now.

I think the time equivalent for how long it took to put together is like 4 status updates and 15 games of Candy Crush. Yes, that’s how I measure time now.

Day 9–

When I got home from the grocery store tonight I had the following conversation with my husband-

Me: There were an inordinate amount of people wearing camouflage clothing at the store.

He: How could you tell?

I won’t tell you how long it took me for my brain to understand how funny that was. Let’s just say he’d already left the room by the time I got it and started laughing. They say you lose millions of brain cells with every kid. I have 4. (Kids not brain cells- although I do wonder sometimes…) You do the math. Seriously, you do the math, because I can’t do it anymore.

He went into the other room to do work on the computer while I made dinner and Zoe did her homework at the kitchen table.

Soon I heard him talking/kind of singing to himself.

J: No. I don’t want your number. No. I don’t wanna give you mine.

Me: (singing) And no, I don’t wanna meet you nowhere. No, don’t want none of your time.

Zoe: (singing)I don’t want no scrubs. A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me.

Me: (singing) Hanging out the passenger side of his best friend’s ride, trying to holler at me.

J: (singing from the living room) noooooo scruuuubs.

Me: I’m pretty sure this is the first time a family has ever done a multi-room round of “Scrubs.”

Zoe: What IS a scrub?

Me: (singing) A scrub is a guy who thinks he’s fly. He’s also known as a buster. Always talkin’ ‘bout what he wants and just sits on his broke ass.

Zoe: That doesn’t help.

Me: A scrub is a loser.

Zoe: Oh. That makes sense.

Her homework for tonight was to write a “How-to” paragraph. She had a difficult time coming up with a topic, and didn’t care for any of my suggestions.

Me: What about “How to make a bed?”

Zoe: I can’t write on that.

Me: Why?

Zoe: Because the maids make my bed.

Me: First of all, you should be making your own bed daily and not waiting for the housecleaners to do it every other week. Secondly, I cannot believe those words just came out of your mouth.

Zoe: Well it’s true.

I think I need to rethink some of my parenting strategies.

We spent the rest of the evening looking for northern lights through the rain clouds (no luck) and watching Lego Bigfoot videos like this Lego Bigfoot wedding video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1ufkn3Ju5M

I never claimed we were a normal family.

Day 10–

My husband: What were those two eels from “The Little Mermaid” called?

Me: Flotsam and Jetsam

My husband: I think that’s what I’m going to call your boobs from now on.

I don’t even want to know what he saw that inspired that statement.

At least he didn’t compare me to Ursula

I took Sydney to the Mediterranean Kitchen today. Confession- it was my second time this week eating Shawarma. I may need a Shawarma intervention. Earlier this week I went to a place called” The Shawarma King” where a nice man named Mohammed made my food. I believe he was the aforementioned “Shawarma King,” but I didn’t have the nerve to ask him.

I now have garlic seeping out my pores. I don’t think there is enough mouthwash in this house to dissipate my breath.

Jeff told me the smell is so strong on my skin, my hair and my breath, if he closed his eyes and I started belly dancing and making jingling sounds, he’d swear he was in the Middle East.

Day 11–

Today we got a sneak preview visit to the new community pool in my mom’s town. Because she works for the school district, she got special passes. We drove through a heavy thunder storm to get there and Parker said, “Good thing it’s indoor, or the pool would be cancelled.”

As we drove through the valley, we noticed dozens and dozens of snow geese hanging out on the fields. We drove across the river over the bridge and Zoe shouted, “Bald eagle!”

Parker looked and said, “It has brown on the bottom and a white head! It IS a bald eagle!”

Zoe: “And what’s that over there?”

Me: “I think it’s a nest.”

Zoe: “Oh, you’re right. It is a nest.”

Parker: Yes, it’s a nest, Zoe. Good Zoe, you’re learning.

Me: How do you, at the age of 8 years old, have such a highly developed ability to be condescending?

Parker: I just do.

I blame his father.

After the pool (which was very cool, by the way) we picked up fried chicken (Heaven Sent, formerly Ezell’s. As Parker said, “It’s my favorite kind of turkey!”) and headed home to watch the Seahawks play the New Orleans Saints.

It was one of the times when being off Facebook was extra difficult. I asked my husband to go and see what everyone was saying about the game.

“Well, I see a lot of ‘Go Hawks!’ but not a lot else. Oh and some lady posted a picture of her bright green tennis shoes with a caption ‘Oh yeah. Let’s keep this party going!’”

I knew who that was. It was my mother and her lucky Seahawk shoes.

It’s only crazy if it doesn’t work, right?

In honor of the Hawks’ brilliant defeat of the Saints, I made bread pudding smothered in rum sauce. To my friends who are New Orleans fans- your team didn’t play well, but your food is delicious!

Day 12–

A week and a half remains of my fast. I’ve passed the halfway point, yet it still seems interminable.

I went to bed last night to the smell of Sydney making curry for her friend. I decided that I will continue my trend of trying new foods by making a visit to the Indian restaurant down the street. I am praying that it won’t destroy my intestines.

Sydney reheated her curry from last night, just as we had finally eliminated the smell from the house. I’m not sure, but the smells emanating from my house lately may be a violation of the HOA rules.

Tonight, my husband casually dropped this into our conversation-

J: What do you think of me wearing vests?

Me: What kind of vests? Three piece suit vests? Sweater vests?

J: Any kind of vest. I’m thinking of becoming the “vest guy.”

Me: You already were the “vest guy.” That was after your “Tommy Bahama Guy” phase.

J: I’m thinking of bringing it back. I might even add fishing vests into the mix.

Me: No.

Seriously, I’m doing this for his own good.

Day 13–

Today I took Nathan to his quarterly appointment with the endocrinologist. He’s hit 5’5 and we are hoping for 3 more inches of growth. Considering how far off the bottom of the growth chart he was when he was first diagnosed as growth hormone deficient at the age of 2, 5’5 feels like a miracle.

When we came out of Children’s Hospital I gave my ticket to the valet who handed it back to me and pointed through the lot to where my car was parked. Thankfully they don’t allow tipping because he would SO not get one.

As we came closer to my car, I caught a glimpse of this beauty:

Upon further inspection, I realized I was looking at a car completely devoted to hydroplane racing. Hydroplane racing is something I think about one day a year- Seafair Sunday. The rest of the year I forget it exists. But this guy- he lives it 365.

I would think every time he got behind the wheel of his car he’d feel like he was in a race… that he’s losing. Badly.

After the appointment we went to Dick’s drive in. For those who don’t know, Dick’s is the place where the cool hang out. The swass like to play and the rich flaunt clout.

Before you start questioning my sanity, check this out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBPpy_SVV_0

Dick’s is a local fast food icon, where you can get great burgers and fries for not a lot of money. It’s a walk up, so we ate it in the car. I tried not to make eye contact with the guy in the car next to me as I shoved fries slathered in tartar sauce into my face. It’s all part of the experience.

When we got home, Sydney was in the kitchen beginning “operation curry- day 3.” I’m really never getting this smell out of my house.

Tonight was the second episode of “The Bachelor.” Parker posted up on the end of my bed with his head resting on his hand. Sometimes I wonder what goes through his head when he watches this show.

Jeff: You know what’s better than Juan Pablo?

Me: No.

Jeff: Two Pablo.

Me: You’re so wrong for that.

Jeff: You know, I just realized what my watch collection is missing.

Me: A Pacman watch?

Jeff: Yes! How did you know?

Me: What else could it be?

Jeff: I had one when I was a kid. It had a joystick on top, but it broke.

Me: I think mine only had buttons.

Jeff: Buttons would be way better. I’m gonna look it up and see if I can get one.

Me: I’d like to point out the mind-meld that just took place here. It’s like we share a brain or something.

Jeff: Yeah. It’s kind of scary. Hey, do you know what the Bachelor calls his house?

Me: No, what?

Jeff: Juan pueblo.

Me: You’re killing me.

Day 14–

This morning I met my friend Lisa for coffee. We met up at 1030 and didn’t leave the coffee shop until 1. When I got there she said, “I’d like to know why my son is here and not in class.” I looked over, and sure enough, her 20 year old son was sitting at a table with his headphones in.

“Oh last week I asked Sydney the same question. It turns out they don’t have class on Tuesdays anymore.”

“Interesting. I wonder where he’s been going .”

“Probably here.”

“Probably.”

Kids these days. Sydney was gone at a church retreat last month and forgot to mention it to me. I posted on her Facebook page at 1AM asking her where she was and Lisa responded that she was probably at the retreat. If they weren’t such good kids, we’d wring their necks.

Her son came over to where we were seated and stood, towering over us. We looked down at his feet and he said, “Yeah, so I have two different shoes on today.”

She said, “I see that. How exactly did that happen?”

“Well, I wasn’t really looking, and I just slipped them on. “

We’ve all done that once or twice. I told her I can’t count the number of times I have discovered my shirt was on backwards or inside out. Or both. She told me she spent a whole day wearing one brown boot and one black boot before she realized. She said, “The crazy thing is they were two different heights. I hobbled around the whole day and it never occurred to me why I was uneven.”

I always love my time with Lisa. She’s funny and smart and insightful. She’s the real deal, and there aren’t many like that out there, so I’m grateful for her. And she puts up with my babbling.

I’m glad that my Social Media fast created more urgency for face to face encounters, because that 2 1/2 hours with Lisa was better than scrolling on Facebook any day.

Dear Diary- Musings From My 21 Day Social Media Fast (Pt 1)

Posted on January 22, 2014 by KB

Well, I’m back. You may not have even noticed I was gone, but boy did I miss you all. Today marks my first day back using Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram after a 3 week hiatus. I’m not gonna lie- it’s been tough. Putting it in perspective, though, I’m sure there are things that people have given up that were more difficult than giving up social media. My friend recently quit smoking. As “addicted” to Facebook as I have been, it doesn’t come close to the strength required to give up smoking. Others who participated in this New Year’s fast gave up sweets, meats, music and/or TV.

And I do have to admit, as the director of social media for our company, I didn’t abstain from social media completely. I did have to log in to our company Facebook and Twitter accounts, but I promise I didn’t enjoy it and I didn’t take a single peek at my own accounts.

The following are my journal entries from the days I was on the fast. I don’t know if I made any monumental self-discoveries, but it has been an interesting three weeks. I spent more time doing things than reading about other people doing things, so that’s something, right?

I’ll be posting these in increments so as not to make for laborious reading.

Day 1– January 1, 2014:

Well, it’s New Year’s Day. My fast has officially begun. What’s 3 weeks in the scheme of life? It’s nothing. A few years ago I gave up sweets for Lent- that was pretty tough. Six weeks without chocolate, without dessert. If I can do that, I can do this.

I’m sure the shakes will go away eventually.

In an ironic twist, I’m sitting here with no one to communicate with. My first attempt to work on my real life communication by eliminating Facebook communication, and I’m left all alone.

Our New Year’s Eve was pretty uneventful. Zoe was at her aunt’s, Sydney and Nathan were with their friends, Parker spent most of the night playing games on the computer, and Jeff spent his time either working on his laptop or catching up on episodes of “Boardwalk Empire.” At about 10pm I popped open a bottle of Moet & Chandon Champagne. I forgot that you are supposed to cover it with a towel, so after loosening the cork, I watched it slowly work its way out, exiting the bottle in a massive explosion, ricocheted off the kitchen ceiling and landed across the room, nearly nailing Jeff in the head. I’ll work on better trajectory for next New Year’s Eve.

We feasted on crackers and cheese and sipped champagne until the ball dropped and fireworks came shooting out of the Space Needle. Parker had managed to stay awake, so he got sandwiched between us for our 21^st New Year’s kiss.

After putting Parker to bed, we headed to our own room. While I was in the bathroom Jeff turned off the light, and as I made my way through the dark, I managed to trip over something, my arms went flying, and so did my champagne glass.

Me: See?! This is why we need the lights on!

Jeff: Between the cracker crumbs that you dropped down the front of your shirt earlier and the cheap champagne you just spilled all over yourself, a person could take communion off of you.

Me: It’s not cheap champagne! It was $39 on sale!

Jeff: Yeah, you’re just like Jay-Z with your $39 champagne.

It’s going to be a long three weeks.

Day 2–

I kept myself busy yesterday by taking down all the interior Christmas decorations. It’s nice to get the house back in order, and it kept me somewhat distracted from what I may be missing out on.

Sydney got a wild hair and decided to make pesto from scratch. We didn’t use a recipe and didn’t have a ton of basil, so it became quite an ordeal. In the end, we had dishes and appliances everywhere for what netted out to be about 3 tablespoons of pesto.

My mother-in-law came by to grab my leftover boxes from our flood remodel. One of her sister’s friends’ houses burned down a few days ago. It was a total loss. She was going over to see if there was anything to salvage. It sounds like most everything is either covered in soot or smoke damaged. Definitely a good reminder that no matter how many times I think about setting fire to my garage rather than cleaning it out, the reality of a house fire is devastating. I’m counting my blessings, messy as they may be.

Today I learned a new appreciation for working moms. We had our company yearly kickoff meeting, which required getting Parker up early, dressed and fed before dropping him off at his grandma’s for the day, as well as getting myself up and showered and ready to leave by 830. I know that for many of you, this is an average day in your life, but it’s not in mine, and I salute you for making it happen.

I started writing a fictional story today. I can’t tell yet whether it’s crap or not, but it has to be better than some of the drivel I have come across lately. FYI- don’t ask me what I’m writing about. I can’t talk about it or I will have to stop. It’s just a thing with me; probably why I have about 30 partially written stories over the years. My goal for 2014 is to actually get it finished and send it off somewhere to see if I can get it published. Hey- you never know until you try, right?

Day 3–

This morning I awoke to the sound of Zoe and Parker loudly playing “Mario World 3D.” Not my favorite way to start the day. I had told my mother that we would make a trip down to the Pacific Science Center in Seattle to check out an exhibit on race in America (ethnicity, not fast cars) and today was the day. I was waffling about whether to wake Nathan up and have him watch them or bring them with me. I decided I would bring them.

Me: We’re going to the Science center today.

Parker: I don’t want to.

Me: I don’t care. I don’t want you staying home, sitting around doing nothing, playing video games all day.

Parker: (blank stare) How is that doing nothing?

Yeah.

The exhibit was great, although having the kids there definitely limited me on my ability to take my time and really absorb it.

Parker looking through his skin

After we finished with that part of the exhibit, we headed for the rest of the Science Center. Of course, being the genius science-minded people they are, you have to go through the souvenir/toy shop on the way to the rest of the exhibits. We got waylaid there for a bit before, upon promise of a return, I finally dragged Parker out of there.

The kids ended up really enjoying the science center, particularly the animatronic dinosaurs

He enjoyed this more than it appears

and the butterfly garden.

That butterfly garden was amazing, not just for the flowers and butterflies, but also for the calm it brought over Parker. They emphasize you have to walk slowly and carefully, so as not to step on a butterfly that might be “resting” on the ground. He spent quite a while just watching the butterflies and the fish in the pond. Zoe figured out that the Koi liked to eat the lily pads, so she fed them. I’m pretty sure that broke about a dozen rules, but it was so serene I just let her.

They also liked the body exhibit, and their favorite aspect was the aging computers. The program took a photo of your face, and then showed a natural aging process, along with aging that is influenced by smoking, obesity and sun exposure. They tried to get my mother to do it, but she said, “I already know what I look like old.”

Zoe at 70?

When we finally got back to the gift shop, Parker decided on the Thor hammer. It probably wasn’t my smartest parenting move. Sitting in Seattle rush hour traffic, I eventually had to take it from him, as he was whacking the back of my seat and his sister’s fingers with it.

Overall it was a great day, though, and I’m glad we went.

Day 4–

I thought about Facebook a lot this morning. I miss it so much I felt a little queasy thinking about it. I’m trying to take my mind off of it by doing laundry and watching cheesy lifetime romance movies.

The last one I watched was about a woman waking up to find herself living the life she had dreamed of, only to discover the reality of the fantasy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not a novel concept for a movie, but it did make me think- be careful what you wish for. Many times what we believe is a step towards a better life is really just exchanging one set of problems for another set.

You know, like in Jay Z’s song “Holy Grail.”

I noticed today that Candy Crush keeps trying to get me to send extra moves to two friends who passed away last year. “_____ has been stuck for 164 days. Send them extra moves.” It was a sobering experience. Two vibrant young women whose lives were cut short by cancer, and I’m spending my time playing Candy Crush. I’ve given up Facebook and Twitter, but that doesn’t mean I’m doing anything other than biding my time until I can get back on. The whole point of this fast was to improve myself and my life. I know it’s only day 4, but I still don’t think I’m getting it.

On a side note, I’ll bet Heaven has unlimited Candy Crush lives.

Day 5–

Delirium has set in. I keep hearing voices…

Turns out it’s my children talking to me. I wonder how long that’s been going on.

On the bright side, I’ve figure out how to get Parker interested in football. All I needed to do was sit him at the kitchen table with his homework in front of him and the game on TV. Suddenly he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen.

Day 6–

The kids went back to school today. Hooray!

Zoe isn’t feeling well, but I told her to suck it up and go to school. I can’t tell whether I’m the meanest mom ever, or I’m teaching her good life skills.

I took her to the walk-in clinic, which turned into a 2 ½ hour ordeal. I’m sure we’ll both end up coming down with some horrendous disease from sitting amongst all those sick people.

Tonight was the official first night of the “Bachelor.” I have been watching this show since it began in 2001. I think that technically makes me an expert.

Case in point: I picked the girl most likely to have a meltdown simply based on her intro segment. Not only was I right, she completely came unhinged before the end of the first cocktail party on the very first night.

Jeff said, “You were right. You spotted the crazy. I think you were tuned in to her frequency.”

I pretended to ignore his implication.

I always wonder what the friends and family of these emotionally fragile (unstable) women are thinking by encouraging them to go on this show. They should be in therapy, not plying themselves with booze and thrown into a houseful of catty women, just so they can be rejected on national TV.

And yet, this is why we watch.

Oh, and the quest for true love, blah blah blah. I think after all these years I have developed a healthy cynicism for the whole endeavor, in spite of my inner romantic wanting to believe in fairy tale happy endings.

The limo pulls up, and the girls begin to shriek and giggle. I mumble to myself, “Girls are stupid.”

My husband responds, “Oh like you never acted like that?”

After a long silent stare I said, “Do you even KNOW me at all?”

Trust me, I’ve never been the type to titter and flutter around a man. I’m more the “punch him in the arm” type. Less Betty Boop, more Lucy Van Pelt.

As these women pour out of the limo, they’ve already imbibed more than enough alcohol to enable their truly awkward introduction shenanigans. Hint to Juan Pablo- Any woman who shows up on the first night with a fake baby bump talking about having your baby…run! As fast as those nice little soccer legs of yours will carry you. Run far away.

I did like Andi the attorney, though. I said, “She’s cute and smart. She’s a prosecutor.”

Zoe: “She’s a prostitute?!?”

This is how nasty rumors get started.

I’m a little stunned by the reaction of the girl who received the first impression rose. I don’t think anyone in the history of the show has ever answered the question, “Will you accept this rose?” with a grimace, a long pause and a terse, “Sure.”

This, of course, means she’s likely to be the one he will chase after the whole season. Mark my words.

Day 7–

I’d have to say the most frustrating part of this whole experience is the fact that I’m not cheating, but everyone has taken it upon themselves to try to catch me doing what I said I wasn’t going to do.

Now, if I had said to them, “I don’t think I have enough self-control to do this on my own without supervision. Please harass me several times throughout the day to make sure I’m not on Facebook,” then I could understand. But I didn’t. This was my choice, and if I fail, I am the one who has to live with it. I’m not a fan of being babysat.

Today at school pickup my friend said to Parker, “Thanks a lot Parker. Now that you have an Instagram account, MY son wants an Instagram account.”

I looked at him.

“You have an Instagram account? Since when?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

I looked at Zoe.

“Did you help Parker create an Instagram account without my knowledge or permission?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t posted anything yet.”

I’m only off Social media for a week and I have one of my kids creating Instagram accounts, and, so I hear, a Facebook friend using a close-up photo of my t-shirt (boobs) as his cover photo.

Fantastic.

One week down, two to go.

C Is For Cookie… And Communication

Posted on December 30, 2013 by KB

The link above is for a classic Sesame Street clip about communication. Say it with me children- communicaaation.

Communication is a funny thing. It can be a thousand page novel or a single word. An hour long speech or the chorus of a song. It could be a gesture or a glance. A simple touch.

Often much is communicated through complete and total silence. (Although not usually what the non-communicator thinks is being communicated)

Miscommunication isn’t a funny thing. Miscommunication leads to anger, resentment, frustration, hurt, sadness, missed opportunities.

Back in history, communicating with those not close by meant days, weeks, months of waiting for a reply. Today we can send a message in an instant.

And yet we continue to struggle to truly communicate.

I “communicate” a lot. I’m active on Facebook, somewhat on Twitter, I text, I email, I blog. Yet somehow, I am losing my ability to truly interact and communicate with people.

When you call me, I likely won’t answer. Why have a whole telephone conversation complete with awkward moments when I can say what I have to say and then it’s over?

I used to like to talk on the phone. I have spent hours on the phone with friends, family. In my past dating life I could spend all night talking on the phone, falling asleep to the voice on the other end of the line.

That’s a big part of how my husband and I fell in love- when we weren’t even dating we would talk on the phone for hours at a time and never get bored with each other. We talked about our plans for the future, our dreams, our past, the silly things that happened throughout the day.

After we were living together, every night felt like having a sleepover with my best friend. We would talk about our own lives, we’d talk philosophy, religion, politics, whatever.

Now, many evenings are spent with him on his tablet trolling Reddit, while I’m on my phone scrolling through Facebook or playing Candy Crush.

We have to purposely set aside time to talk with each other now. We have to set our phones down and look each other in the eye with intent to listen and understand. It doesn’t come as easy as it used to.

He still likes to talk on the phone, and he makes phone calls whenever he gets in the car. (Don’t worry, he has Bluetooth.) I, however, turn up the music and pretend I don’t have a phone. If my phone rings, I will only answer if I think it’s important. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Text me what I need to know.

My kids give me grief about how much time I spend on Facebook. Funny how this means of communicating with all of my “friends” has impeded real communication with the people standing right in front of me.

There are a lot of people I “talk” to on Facebook whose voices I have never heard. I’m not saying that’s a terrible thing. One of my favorite books of all time is “84 Charing Cross Road,” a true story about letter correspondence between a man and a woman that spans more than 20 years. Their friendship was real, despite their never having met, laid eyes on each other or spoken on the telephone.

And I’m not saying that my friendships on Facebook aren’t real. Some are with those I used to see all the time, some are with those I see sporadically, some are with those I have never physically met. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. It just means they are limited. They don’t require much of me.

If you spend most of your time in level 1 and 2, you might want to examine a few things in your life. I know I am.

I think part of what is so appealing about electronic communication is that it removes uncomfortable emotion from difficult conversations. I don’t have to SEE your hurt, your anger, your frustration. You don’t get to SEE my hurt, my vulnerability, my insecurities.

I’m also a writer, not a speaker. I’m the type who can think of something clever and witty to respond… 5 hours after the conversation. When I speak, my emotions overcome my brain function. I do a lot of sputtering and then my mind goes blank.

When I type, I can “speak” with confidence, especially knowing I can edit or delete before sending. I can allow you to “see” as much or as little of me, my heart, my soul, as I want.

Why is communication so difficult? Because it involves revealing ourselves; The good, the bad, the ugly.

It’s so much easier to say nothing than to say, “It hurts me when I see that you had an event where you invited everyone but me,” “Your insensitivity to my situation was painful,” “Your lack of support is deeply disappointing.”

It’s so much easier to say nothing than to say, “I’m scared,” “You hurt me,” “Why am I not enough?” “I don’t want to lose you.”

Easier, maybe, than being angry or acting indifferent.

Romantic relationships, family relationships, close friendships- these are the areas where the most miscommunication takes place. These are the people in our lives that truly matter, so why do we allow so much time to go by before resolving communication issues? Why are we ok with seething over a perceived wrong, instead of allowing the “offender” to make things right? Why would we choose to dwell in that nebulous area of wondering, instead of asking the questions? Why hold grudges instead of fixing the problem?

I think most of the time we are afraid of the answers we will get.

“Because we didn’t want you there.” “Because you made a choice that I cannot accept.” “Because I don’t believe in you.” “Because I just don’t feel it.” “Because there’s nothing you can do to make this right.”

So we stay with the unknown. It’s emotionally safer than confronting reality. We can project our own thoughts and feelings onto another, justify and bolster our opinions and feelings about them.

There have been a lot of times where I have had whole conversations in my head with someone else. By the time I have an actual conversation with them about the issue, I find that they don’t usually react the way I had predicted they would. Humility where I expected defensiveness. Hurt where I had expected anger. Confusion about how I had come to the conclusion that they felt or thought a certain way.

The truth is, some people are terrible at real communication. They just are. If you ask them, they are often baffled about how what they said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do, is completely misinterpreted by others.

There are those who use communication (or lack thereof) as a weapon or self-defense mechanism.

There are those who use communication (or lack thereof) as a means of control and manipulation.

There are those who think you should “just know,” regardless of what they are showing and telling you.

I’m a firm proponent of saying what you mean, and meaning what you say. Don’t say something unless you really mean it. And don’t leave things unsaid that need to be known. It won’t get you where you want to be in that relationship. Unless where you want to be is NOT in that relationship.

I believe that if you care about someone, you should tell them. If you’re hurt by something they did, tell them. Give them an opportunity to make it right. If you’re angry or feel disrespected, try to understand where they are coming from, but tell them how you feel. They may not realize, and if you don’t give them a chance, a whole relationship can be destroyed.

I should point out that communication is not talking at someone, it is talking with someone. It’s not about getting your point across, it’s about respecting someone enough to keep the air clear between you. It’s about relating to someone on a deeper level.

Having said all that, I have a minor announcement to make. Starting January 1, 2014, I will be on a 21 day social media fast. My goal is to work on my interpersonal communication skills, to be more present in my physical life and not in my electronic one, to take time to write, read and pray that would normally be sapped by the time I typically spend on Facebook.

It was a difficult decision for me- an actual food fast would be easier. And you all know that’s saying something.

I told my daughter yesterday as I tearfully described what I was considering that I felt like I would be putting in jeopardy what I have been building here with this blog and my Facebook page. She assured me that my loyal readers (all 5 of you) will understand what I’m trying to do, and will still be here when I return.

I hope to come back with a fresh perspective, renewed mind, and better personal relationships. I’ll be sure to take notes on all the things that happen around here so you won’t miss a thing.

Thank you all for your support these past several months, and for (hopefully) understanding about this brief hiatus. Honestly, you probably won’t even notice I’m gone.

Meanwhile I’ll be over here doing deep breathing exercises and self- control mind techniques to stay away.

I’ll leave you with this: Talk to each other. Life is too short to dwell in misunderstandings. Tell those you love that you love them. Leave no doubts. Tell those you’ve hurt that you’re sorry. Tell those that have hurt you the truth, and allow for reconciliation.

Oh, and did I mention tell those you love, “I love you?” Do it.

Don’t end up like this guy.

Zero Shades Of Grey (Confessions Of A Black And White Thinker)

Posted on December 11, 2013 by KB

A couple weeks ago I was standing on a busy street corner in downtown Spokane. We were walking from our hotel to the shopping center for our annual black Friday trip to see Santa. As we waited, others began crossing the street against the light.

I said, mostly to myself, but in my husband’s hearing range, “I just think rules are there for a reason.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny about that?” I asked.

“Nothing, really. It’s just such a YOU thing to say.”

He’s right.

I’m a rule follower.

I have been my entire life. I have a healthy fear of authority, and I get really uncomfortable when boundaries are violated. Particularly legal ones.

Don’t get me wrong- I’m no angel. I’ve made mistakes and crossed lines. I’ve tested limits and even pushed past them. But deep down, I HATE breaking rules. And I’m not a fan of when others break them either.

Sometimes I get personally offended when I see drivers not following road rules.

My biggest pet peeve in life? People not doing what they are supposed to do. Second biggest? People doing what they are NOT supposed to do.

Last week at the grocery store I was first in the self-checkout line. There were at least 5 people behind me, and we were waiting for one of the machines. There were two on the left, two on the right, and two on the other side of those. At the far end is a store employee, whose sole job is to regulate the self-checkout area.

A woman wandered up and started hovering near one of the far right checkout stands, looking confused. As I was walking over there, since the man who had been using the machine had just begun to walk away, the store employee went over to the woman and asked her if she needed help on the machine.

I said, “We actually have a line over here, and I was next.”

The employee said, “Oh.”

The woman stared at me, and then started scanning her items.

I made the walk of shame back to the line just as another register opened up.

I was seething.

How dare she? We all followed the rules, we waited our turn, and yet there she is, cutting in line. And he didn’t even care! There were no repercussions for her rude behavior.

There is a right way, and there is a wrong way. She did it the wrong way.

Truthfully, if she had apologized, said she hadn’t realized she was cutting and offered to wait, I might have felt a little mercy towards her. I might have said, “That’s ok,” and let her go ahead of me.

Maybe.

She didn’t just cut in front of me, she also cut in front of everyone behind me. I was indignant on their behalf as much as I was on my own.

And him. He should KNOW better! He’s the authority in the self-checkout area. I rely on authority figures to keep others in line, so I don’t have to.

I will, you know. It’s a burden I’m willing to bear, even when others slack off.

I have been known to alert flight attendants to people who try to turn their cell phones on mid-flight, or who haven’t shut down their laptops in preparation for landing.

Many of you missed one of my early blogs about flying to Vegas last May. ( http://kbjackson.com/come-fly-with-me/ ) This should give you a pretty clear insight into the way I think, and how I respond to people who don’t follow the rules.

When the FAA announced they were allowing electronic devices for the entire flight, and perhaps even cell phone use, I went sideways. All this time they’ve had me convinced that one kindle that is not completely off could take down a 777. Now it’s a free-for-all.

Washington State has recently legalized recreational marijuana use for adults. The closest I have been to inhaling pot is a contact high from the secondhand smoke at the Folk Life Festival or an Eagles concert. I grew up in the Nancy Reagan/ Mr. T “Just say no!” era.

So what’s a rule follower to do when the rules change?

The answer is- keep following the original rule. It’s so deeply ingrained in me by now, I don’t think it will ever change.

I used to be a church youth group leader back when I lived in Utah. One night the youth pastor decided to do an exercise to illustrate the point he was about to make.

He told everyone to go to one side of the room if they believed every moral decision in life is black and white, and the other side if they believed there were shades of grey.

All of the kids went to one side of the room, and I was left standing on the other side alone. A moment later, one of our summer interns joined me.

I said, “I can’t believe I’m alone over here. I’m glad someone thinks like me.”

He said, “So, you don’t believe there are ever any shades of grey?”

“No, I really don’t. I feel like things are one or the other. Shades of grey means moral ambivalence. I don’t operate that way. What about you?”

“I’m only over here because I wanted to understand why you are over here.”

A few years later I found out that he was at that time coming to terms with his sexuality. Actually, I found out that he and at least two other of our close-knit group were dealing with similar feelings. I had no idea.

It was then that I realized what he was really asking me: Can you still accept me if I’m not who you think I am? If I challenge what you believe, will you reject me? Will you shun me? If there are no shades of grey, where do I fit?

I also realized the missed opportunities to be there for these teenagers who probably saw me as someone inflexible, unyielding; Opportunities to love on them and let them know that no matter what, I was in their corner.

In the mind of a black and white thinker, there’s not really not a whole lot of thinking. It’s more about responding. Everything that is presented gets immediately placed in a mental category.

Is this good? Or is it bad?

Does this make me happy? Or unhappy?

Is it right or wrong?

My husband says I have two categories when it comes to picking a movie to go see- I want to see it, or “I have absolutely zero interest in seeing that. Ever.”

This technique would be great if I was a competitor on “Minute to Win It” and I had 60 seconds to categorize the world and morality.

It doesn’t work so well in relationships with real people.

I heard someone once say, “In this world there are two kinds of people- black and white thinkers and people who are wrong.”

When you’re a black and white thinker, how do you have a relationship with an imperfect person who, surprisingly, doesn’t agree with everything you believe? How do you navigate the ups and downs of marriage and friendships that don’t always fit into one box or another?

The challenge comes when life gets messy and complicated, and the rule-following black and white thinker has to reevaluate: If I respect this person and they don’t agree with me, does that mean I’m wrong? (No, probably they just don’t have all the information. I shall give it them! THEN they’ll agree with me. )

Parenting is probably the greatest challenge to a black and white thinker. Understanding that not only is this a separate human being, with their own hopes and dreams, they also have their own way of thinking, that… gasp! might be different from mine is a tough concept to grasp.

My physical therapist told me a few weeks ago that black and white thinking is a form of mental illness. I can see her point. It lends itself towards inflexibility, a lack of compassion, a lack of empathy, judgment without grace.

In reality, being a “shades of grey” thinker isn’t about moral ambivalence. It’s about coming to terms with the idea that… I don’t know everything. I don’t know what it feels like to walk in that person’s shoes. My views are a culmination of my own personal experiences. Those who have had different life experiences are bound to have a different perspective. Different doesn’t mean it’s wrong, it means it’s THEIRS. And they are entitled to it.

My whole life I have been ingesting information, placing a value on it, and then making that snap judgment part of my core being. I haven’t always allowed for the possibility that there is more, even a whole other side to the story.

One of my favorite subjects in high school was debate.(If I’m being completely honest, MOST of my classes I turned into debate classes.) Debate is a great activity for a black and white thinker. It didn’t matter the challenges to my viewpoint, I held firm in the knowledge that I was right, and my opponent was wrong. I was undaunted in my defense of my position. I remember getting an evaluation back from my debate teacher that specifically mentioned that my arguments held little room for compromise. My response? Of course not. Why compromise when you’re right?

Maybe it’s hitting midlife. Maybe it’s maturity, who knows. Somehow over the past few years I have found my mind expanding, and with it my ability to try to see things from the perspective of others.

I have been reading books that challenge my way of thinking, resulting in some actual changes in thoughts and feelings for some issues, and a further resolve on others.

Who knew that you could open your mind up to other possibilities without your head exploding? Not me.

I’m learning to try to actually listen to other people’s feelings and beliefs, rather than simply looking for counterpoint opportunities and flaws in their logic.

Sometimes I will say out loud, “I really don’t understand what they are thinking, or where they are coming from,” and my husband will simply respond, “I know you don’t.”

This process hasn’t always been a fun one. 2012 found me often in near-panic mode, as I considered alternate realities to my long held belief system. Boundaries and rules leave me feeling safe. When those boundaries are challenged, I feel like Sandra Bullock in “Gravity.” Or Major Tom.

When I feel that anxiety, I remind myself that I’m getting what I’ve always craved- knowledge. And along with that, hopefully a more understanding and compassionate way of viewing people around me.

I still like rules, and I still believe they exist for our protection. Mostly. And I still believe in moral absolutes. However, I am willing to concede that there are definite shades of grey in this life.

Actually, I am currently wearing three… my sweater is heather, my shirt is oatmeal and my boots are taupe.

See? Progress already.

I just figure there’s a reason for this rule. Who am I to challenge it?

This Year’s Thanksgiving Post Brought To You By A Man Named Carlos

Posted on November 26, 2013 by KB

(I feel like It’s worth mentioning that this photo downloaded to my computer with the title “Squirrels with pumpkin pie.” I’m sure SOME squirrels prefer pumpkin pie. Most, though, seeing as how squirrels are big fans of nuts, probably prefer what this pie actually is… pecan. I’m also not convinced these aren’t chipmunks. Oh, internet.)

Most days my husband comes home and says, “How was your day?”

This is usually a more difficult question to answer than one might think. Do I go with “Fine,” and leave it at that? During the course of a day, there are good things and bad things that happen. There are also a whole lot of neutral things that don’t justify a good or bad rating. They just are. So what’s the tipping point of good to bad that makes one day good, the next day not? No one ever has a 100% perfectly amazing day where not one thing goes wrong. No one has a 100% terrible day where EVERYTHING is wrong and there is no good.

Last night as I drifted off to sleep I thought about the day and how if someone were to say “hey, was this a good day or a bad day?” the answer could be either.

This is where perspective comes in. Yeah, yeah, the clichés about gratitude and half empty cups get overused. There’s a reason for that, though. There are some things that are inherently great- a new baby, winning the lottery, falling in love. There are others that are bad- death, cancer, heartbreak.

Yet even in those seemingly clear moments, the attitude of the person can change what’s good or bad into something very different.

I have seen people find the negative in the midst of total blessing, and I have seen others shine a light of hope and faith in the depths of sorrow.

Here’s how yesterday went:

It’s so cold! This is going to be a loooong winter if it’s this cold and it’s not even December yet.

I got a text from a friend cancelling lunch plans.

I went to the UPS store to mail off a box filled with Zoe’s old Barbie toys including her Barbie motorhome to the woman in Nebraska who bought it off of me from Ebay. She had paid $11 for the items. UPS told me it would cost me $160 to ship it. This was going to kill my perfect seller rating and I was going to have to deal with an irate customer.

All the stores I checked were already out of the extra Christmas lights I needed.

Parker was misbehaving so badly on the way home from school that I had to ground him from the computer for a day.

When I got home I almost stepped on dog poop because one of my neighbors let their dog poop on my lawn and didn’t clean it up.

My husband spilled an entire glass of water on Zoe’s homework and our brand new carpet.

Later Zoe spilled her ice tea all over the kitchen table.

She also disregarded our command to get off the counter and knocked sugar all over the newly refinished kitchen floor.

Parker commandeered the remote and we all had to suffer through “Adventure Time.”

During dinner we got a knock on our back door. One of the guys putting up our Christmas lights had discovered large amounts of natural gas shooting out of the side of the house from the meter area.

Our house was in danger of exploding with our entire family in it.

The fire dept showed up and the cutest one wasn’t there.

They turned off our gas which meant no stove, no heat, no hot water.

The guy from the gas company showed up with a van that had no equipment on it to repair the leak. He informed us that the guys weren’t answering his calls because they were in the middle of a contract vote, no one was happy. We were second on the list for repairs, but if they voted to strike and the repairman with the parts couldn’t get to our house before midnight, we were out of luck.

Our house got colder and colder as I waited up for the second repairman. I couldn’t even take a bath because Nathan had used up all the hot water in his 20 minute shower.

It was almost midnight when they finally arrived to fix the problem.

It turns out the leak is from cracking because our house is settling- great. How many thousands of dollars is THAT going to cost?

I went out to greet them in bare feet and stepped on a slug.

What a rotten day!

Here’s how yesterday went:

I woke up in the morning to sunshine and frost of the rooftops. It was beautiful.

I went in to get Parker up and he snuggled up to me as I carried him downstairs.

After getting the kids off to school, I drank my coffee, took a warm bath and read my new Janet Evanovich book.

I got a text from my friend cancelling our lunch date, which meant I was to avoid the humiliation of having to wear a Washington State University t-shirt in public as a result of the Apple cup bet I lost last year when the Cougars upset the Washington Huskies.

I went to the UPS store where a very nice guy had to break the news to me that my package was going to be absurdly expensive to ship to my buyer. Thankfully, my quick refund of her money and heartfelt apology was graciously accepted.

I was able to locate 2 boxes of Christmas lights that weren’t exactly what I needed, but they were hidden in the back and they were the very last 2- how lucky is that?

I came home to find that the guys we were able to hire to put up our lights for us were already halfway done. They always do such a great job.

I got a message from my husband that a man named Bill was on his way to purchase the four-wheeler someone gave us for free 6 years ago- for $200! Now I have so much more space in my garage and an extra $200 dollars in my pocket. (Oh and they’re the new bills that look crazy. Since he got them out of the ATM, they were sequential. I’ve never had two sequential brand new hundred dollar bills before)

Thankfully Zoe noticed there was dog poop on the grass before I stepped in it, and I was able to clean it up before anyone else did.

I really love my new floors and carpet. And even though it was stressful having it done, they turned out so nice and the insurance company paid for everything!

Dinner turned out great, and I was fortunate to have just finished sautéing the green beans when one of the guys putting up the lights- Carlos- knocked on the door and let us know he had discovered a gas leak. We are so grateful that he was there and realized it. We are lucky our house is still in one piece and so are we!

The fire dept showed up so fast! They were able to turn off the gas so that we were no longer in danger. Fire fighters are so great- always there when you need them.

I called the gas company, and the fire dept had already alerted them and had a technician on the way to our house. What amazing customer service and rapid response time!

The technician was unable to fix the problem, but he got us on the repair list so we were second in line.

Thankfully the gas co employees approved their new contract and avoided the strike! What a relief for them and their families- especially this close to the holidays.

These guys showed up to repair our gas line at nearly midnight- their dedication and willingness to come out and make the repairs so we would have heat and hot water saved us from a very cold night. It’s so great to know that they are willing to do whatever it takes. Hope their contract pays them well.

My husband said, “The leak happened due to settling under the house. The good news is at this rate eventually the driveway won’t seem so steep.”

I drifted off to sleep with a roof over my head and heat flowing through our vents.

What a great day!

My wish for all of us this Thanksgiving is that we are able to see the blessings for what they are and the trials for what we can learn from them. When we focus on the positive or the negative, we usually find exactly what we’re looking for.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A Mongoose Isn’t A Bird- The Trip That Keeps On Giving (Hawaii Part 4)

Posted on November 14, 2013 by KB

I have a confession to make. I’m getting senile. It’s only been a month since our trip to Hawaii and already many of the stories and events are fading. I wrote myself some notes and I found myself staring at them this morning trying to decipher what in the world I was talking about. Honestly, they look like the ramblings of a mad woman.

So, I will do my best today to remember what the heck it all means.

Way back in Zoe’s birthday post http://kbjackson.com/a-turtly-awesome-10th-birthday-hawaii-part-2/ I failed to mention something that happened at dinner that night.

We were seated at a long table, Zoe of course at the head. I was next to Zoe, and my brother and sister in-law were at the other end, so I often had to strain to hear the conversations going on. At one point Brooke, my sister-in-law, was telling a story about a mongoose.

Over Parker’s head I said to Jeff, “What’s she talking about?”

He said, “A mongoose.”

I said, “You know a mongoose is a bird, right?”

He gave me a strange look, but said nothing.

The next day the topic of the mongoose came up again. Jeff said, “You know a mongoose isn’t a bird.”

“Yes it is. I think it’s a white bird with a long neck.”

“No. It isn’t. A mongoose is a rodent.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Google it.”

And so I did.

This is a mongoose:

I have no idea what I was thinking is a mongoose, but this wasn’t it.

Of course, because I am RARELY ever wrong about ANYTHING, this became great fodder for my family.

The day after we went to the Polynesian Cultural Center http://kbjackson.com/who-let-the-dogs-out-hawaii-part-3/ Jeff stayed back at the hotel with Parker and Nathan, while Toni, Sydney, Zoe and I went back up to Kualoa Ranch. http://www.kualoa.com/

Sydney was a big fan of “Lost” and one of her birthday requests while we were there was to do a “Lost” site tour.

It turns out that our tour guide wasn’t a big fan of “Lost” and therefore didn’t focus a lot on it. There are a ton of shows and movies that have been filmed on this property, and in fact the other day while I was in bed sick and catching up on “Hawaii 5-0” Zoe and I noticed that they were showing scenes filmed in the World War 2 bunkers we had gone into on the tour.

Zoe in a bunker

Sydney gets “Lost” in the bunker (He looks pretty annoyed with her)

During the tour, our guide talked about the history of the ranch, its WW2 occupation by the Navy, and how it became a popular location site for filming.

She also brought up the mongoose. I could see Sydney smiling out of the corner of my eye as the guide told us how the mongoose came to be in Hawaii. I tried not to make eye contact.

Hawaii has a rat problem. Some time back some dude thought he would solve the rat problem by bringing in a predator- the mongoose. The trouble was, the rats come out at night and the mongoose (mongeese?) come out in the day time. And never the twain shall meet. Now Hawaii has a rat problem AND a mongoose problem. And now I know more about the mongoose than I ever hoped to know. At this point it’s in contention for my least favorite animal.

When we got back from the bus tour we noticed the hundred and one had arrived- but they were all going on the horseback riding tour. Trying to navigate that crowd was like a salmon swimming upstream.

We headed back down into Waikiki and made plans for dinner. We decided to take the trolley, which is pretty convenient and only $2/person. Unfortunately it was a busy night because 2 full trolleys came by before we were able to squeeze onto what would turn out to be the greatest bus ride any of us have ever taken. About 5 minutes into the ride, our driver said that he thought we needed a little spark to get us going. He turned up the volume and began playing “Celebration” by Kool and the Gang. As we drove he would start and stop to make the trolley “dance.” At one point, he started calling out people who weren’t singing. Parker thought this was all terrifying, while Zoe thought it was the greatest thing ever.

Once “Celebration” was done, he moved on to “YMCA.” Most of the trolley was doing the hand motions. Even people on the street were doing it as we waited at a stop light. At one point, a woman on a bus next to us seemed to have some sort of breakdown because she was angrily pointing and yelling at us in Japanese.

There is video of this fun ride, however Sydney’s privacy settings on her Facebook account won’t allow me to show it. I attempted to screen shot the driver and although these pictures are hazy, you get the gist.

Our driver clapping and dancing

The light turned but he still managed to make the Y in YMCA

We rode the trolley several times during the course of the trip. Every other time the driver stayed silent except to announce stops. Which just goes to show- Your attitude about life can turn an ordinary bus ride into an event to remember.

The next day we drove out to Hanauma Bay to go snorkeling. All the pamphlets said “get there early,” but we had no idea that meant like 8am. We arrived around 930, only to be told we couldn’t even pull into the parking lot, it was full. They told us to come back and try again in 20 minutes. We headed down the highway another few minutes until we reached a lookout point. It was spectacular.

We headed back up to the entrance to the parking lot and were allowed in. I had been concerned we were never getting in.

They take people down in groups, following a short video that explains about the bay, what you will see there and how to preserve the fragile ecosystem of the bay. It’s a pretty long hike down, or you can pay to have a tram take you.

Even on a Wednesday in October that place was busy. We found a spot to settle in.

For months Parker had talked about going snorkeling. He’s been snorkeling in our bathtub with a mask, practicing. So when the day finally came…

He was ready.

Until he put his face in the ocean.

He didn’t like the flippers, and the waves freaked him out. He ended up hanging right around the edge of the water, never going too far.

He missed out. Somewhere we have an underwater camera with undeveloped pictures that Zoe took. I have seemingly misplaced it. You’ll have to take my word for it- the fish were amazing.

We spent an awful lot of time in the car on this trip. As a result there were a lot of random conversations. At one point Zoe decided we should start a family band. She put her father as lead singer, which made absolutely no sense, as he couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket. I think she assigned Parker the triangle.

Sydney said I should cover all of today’s hits and call it “Mom Bop.”

My taste in music was challenged at one point, so we ended up putting on the Disney Pandora station. This led to a whole conversation about the Little Mermaid, and her voice, and what kind of bargain it was to give up your voice to get the guy.

Jeff said, “It would be worth it.”

He just likes the idea of a pretty woman with no voice.

And I think he likes the idea of me with no voice.

My mother-in-law was trying to understand my family at one point. My dad has two children from his first marriage, my mom has two from hers. They got married, and had me.

“Oh, so you’re the only only?”

Well, did my husband have a field day with that comment. “Oh, she’s the only only all right. Between Zoe, who calls herself ‘the awesome’ and Miss ‘Only only’ over here, you can see what I’m dealing with.”

For the rest of the trip Zoe and I were referred to as “The awesome and the only only.”

Haters are gonna hate, what can I say?

We saw a lot of sites, went to a lot of events, but in the end the true memories were made on those car rides, in silly conversations and unplanned moments.

I promise I only have one more Hawaii post planned. It was Parker’s birthday and it was a day to remember. There was Mickey Mouse, a shirtless man throwing flaming swords and I got a tattoo. What more could an 8 year old ask for?

He really just wanted me to get a picture of the woman behind him

Thank You Doesn’t Seem Enough

Posted on November 11, 2013 by KB

A couple weeks ago Zoe came to me and said, “Do we have any veterans in our family?”

I said, “None who are alive.”

“NO one? We don’t know ANY veterans that I can bring to our assembly?”

“No. Papa Bill was too young to serve in Korea and too old for Vietnam. Plus he was in college and was a father. Papa Jim didn’t serve as far as I know. In fact, the only person in our family that I can think of is your cousin Kurt, and he’s serving the Coast Guard down in Oregon.”

“Can’t he come for this?”

“That’s the thing with military service, you don’t get to come and go as you please. He has to stay there and do his job.”

She was pretty peeved at me, and insisted that even if we didn’t have anyone she could bring, that I attend the assembly.

Their music teacher’s husband is an officer in one branch of the military, so she makes sure that every year there is a Veteran’s Day assembly. They begin practicing their songs early on in the school year, which is why you could often hear Zoe going around singing “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”

One day as she was singing I said, “While I understand that you need to practice, could you maybe move on from the halls of Montezuma and the shores of Tripoli to another branch of service? I got enough of that song when I dated a Marine20 years ago.”

I am really glad that I attended the assembly, though. Besides the fact that Zoe would be upset if I didn’t, I have to admit that veterans are close to my heart. As they called out the conflicts in which the guests had served, and I saw these men and women stand, particularly the two World War II vets, I couldn’t help but get emotional. What are hunched over little old men now, who go about their day like anyone else, were once brave soldiers; Young men who were probably terrified and didn’t know if they would ever make it home.

My grandfather, Captain Jack Bomke, served in the US Navy and was stationed at Pearl Harbor on Dec 7, 1941. It was a Sunday morning, and he was having breakfast at his mother’s house when the attacks happened. He raced down the hill to the harbor to help wherever he could. He, alongside his fellow men, worked to rescue as many as they could.

Captain Jack Bomke on the day he married my grandmother Charlotte Quinn

When I was 13, my parents and I drove down to visit my grandfather in Southern California. Along the way we stopped off in a small town and I grabbed their local newspaper. In it, there was an article, that I’m pretty sure I still have somewhere, about an event that had recently taken place. It was an event to raise money for the needs of the veterans in their community. The organizers had spent a lot of money on food and party supplies. Hardly anyone showed up. One of the veterans was quoted as saying, “It feels like no one cares.”

That article devastated me. I thought about the sacrifices these men and women had made, and that they felt like no one cared about their struggles. I saved the article because I intended to write to them and let them know that people DO care… And then I forgot about it. For a while. But I have never truly forgotten about that missed opportunity to show my appreciation.

I am thankful to have the legacy of my great grandfather, John R. Quinn, to look towards in the care for and advocating of veterans’ issues.

John Quinn was working on his father’s ranch in 1917 when word about the war reached him. He immediately left for San Francisco and enlisted. He was sent to France and served as Captain of Battery F, 348th field artillery, 91st division and fought in the Meuse Argonne offensive. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meuse-Argonne_Offensive

He stayed until 1919 with the Army of Occupation.

When he returned to California, he became active in the newly-formed American Legion. In 1920, when he realized that the closest AL post was in Bakersfield, a day’s drive for the men in his home town, he organized Merle Reed Post 124 in Delano, California so they could have a place to gather.

In 1921 John became the California Commander of the American Legion.

In 1922 he was placed in charge of the veterans’ welfare board in the San Francisco office.

In 1923 he became the Chairman of the Board for Veterans Welfare of the state of California.

That same year, due to his tireless fight for veterans’ issues, he was elected National Commander of the American Legion.

President Calvin Coolidge, center, John Quinn to the right of him.

Starting in 1921, there was a push by the American Legion for veterans’ compensation. A bill placed before the Senate was vehemently protested by President Harding and eventually failed. It regained momentum and was finally passed in 1924 under the leadership of President Coolidge and National Commander John Quinn. The American Legion was a driving force in getting The Adjusted Compensation Act into law.

http://www.unz.org/Pub/Forum-1924mar-00354 (This is an article written by National commander Quinn arguing for this bill)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_Adjusted_Compensation_Act

It soon became apparent that veterans’ issue didn’t stop with the veterans themselves, but their wives, widows and children. John was a strong advocate for these families as well. http://www.unz.org/Pub/Outlook-1924jul09-00397

The World War Adjusted Compensation Act didn’t give immediate help to veterans, however. The act, passed in 1924, delayed payment to veterans until 1945. When the Great Depression hit, people were struggling, veterans in particular.

In 1932, the Bonus Army March was a movement to demand the payments no longer be delayed. Some sources report as many as 17,000 veterans, along with 26,000 family members and supporters, marched into Washington DC. President Hoover, who really should have known better, sent in 500 infantry soldiers, 500 cavalry, 6 tanks and 800 police officers to quell the revolt. In the end, 4 were dead, over a thousand were injured, including 69 police officers.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonus_Army

Hoover lost the election that year to FDR. While FDR opposed the veteran’s demands, Hoover was the one to turn the army on them. (Am I the only one who reads about Hoover and “We’d like to thank you Herbert Hoover” from “Annie” pops into your head? No? Just me?)

I don’t have an explanation as to why my grandfather supported Hoover in spite of this incident, but he was a progressive Republican (who knew there was such a thing), and FDR was a Democrat.

John Quinn spent his entire adult life fighting for the rights of veterans. He believed strongly in the obligation of our nation to pay the debt of gratitude to those who have served.

He went on to be honored by President Truman

And President Nixon

for his efforts on behalf of those who have served in our armed forces and their families.

The American Legion was instrumental in creating the US Veterans Bureau, predecessor to the VA. they continue to fight against the bureaucracy that is preventing the needs of veterans being met.

They created the “Flag Code” for proper treatment of the American flag.

They supported a fledgling organization called “The American Heart Association” and helped it become the force it is today.

The AL supported and pushed for the GI bill, which has provided higher education to millions of veterans.

If you’d like to learn more about veterans’ issue and the American Legion, please go to

http://www.legion.org/history

And to the veterans… thank you isn’t nearly enough. But still. Thank you.

Author Kate B Jackson

kbjackson.com

Category Archives: Life