Author: Stormy

An Argument for Whimsy

On By StormyIn Attitude, Children, Entertaining/leisure, RandomLeave a comment

Those who don’t know me well would be surprised to find I have a whimsical side. Hidden from all but close friends and family, this quirky trait only emerges on rare occasions. This past summer, when I was feeling uncharacteristically lighthearted after a couple of medical scares proved to be benign, I created a little elf home in the large pine tree in my backyard. Signified by a little wooden door draped in moss with a little stone path and—the piece de resistance—a little Weber grill (with real charcoal ash in the bottom: Stormy knows the devil’s in the details).

Home Sweet Home
Home Sweet Home

We were hosting a graduation party for my youngest, and I thought my great-nieces and -nephews would find it intriguing. I showed it to a few of them at the party, and they marveled over the tiny door and what might be inside the tree.

Fast forward to late fall. I took a day off work to tackle some neglected yard work and was clearing an overgrown mess of dead weeds from my garden when I happened upon my elf home. The grill was knocked over and the path had broken in two. I considered bringing in the grill, to keep it from rusting or getting lost in the mounds of snow imminent in a Minnesota winter, but instead I set the grill upright, carefully pressed the two halves of the walkway together and left it in place. The next day, I was hosting a small family party that would feature chili and a bonfire, and I didn’t want any of the kids who had seen the elf’s home to wonder what became of him.

“Every girl needs a bit of whimsy to remind her that life is a game and it’s all about having fun.” 
― Candace Havens, Take it Like a Vamp

The next night I had forgotten about the elf and was talking with my sisters when my great-nephews ran into the house buzzing with excitement, “Do you have a flashlight? We found a little grill! And a little door!” asked Caleb. His cousin, Sean Ryan was jumping up and down with unconstrained enthusiasm, while his older sister looked on with skepticism.

“Oh,” I responded nonchalantly, “you must be talking about the elf’s home. Don’t harass him too much. He likes to be left alone,” I warned as I handed Caleb a flashlight.

The boys ran out the door to investigate. Later, Caleb’s sister came in to report that, “I don’t believe an elf really lives there, but the boys sure do!”

I think the thing that made their encounter so magical was that they discovered the elf’s home themselves—literally stumbled upon it in the dark. No adult had led them to it, pointing out the details carefully constructed to help support the illusion. Therefore it must be real, right?

“Those who shun the whimsy of things will experience rigor mortis before death.”
― Tom Robbins

The kids’ reaction reminded me of some things I’d forgotten during a very busy year: 1) Creating joy is a very productive way to spend one’s time. 2) You may discover magic when you least expect it, and 3) It’s more fun to believe. This is a timely reminder given that we’re entering what is generally regarded as the most magical season of all—because my “very busy year” doesn’t show any signs of letting up. So, I’ll make sure to appreciate the little pockets of whimsy to be found amidst the holiday hustle and bustle. Heck, maybe I’ll even create a little myself. Does anyone know where I can find a teeny tiny wreath? 🙂

Stormy learns the importance of going with the flow

On By StormyIn Attitude, Hobbies, Money, Random2 Comments
Born to take the helm
Born to take the helm

The Summer of 2013 will hereafter be known in our household as The Summer Stormy Got Her Boat. KitKat and I live in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, and it’s part of the local culture to have a cabin and a boat. I grew up with this reality. My parents bought their first cabin when I was very small and bought another one when I was a teenager.

On the other hand, my husband—despite being a native Minnesotan—was raised like an Iowa Farm Boy. He never wore shorts as a kid. And if he or his siblings serendipitously found themselves near a lake, they were allowed to roll up their pant legs and wade along the shore, but that was the extent of any beach activity.

Fast forward to 2008, when we purchased our own “cabin” (that’s a topic for another post) in a beautiful river town.

Our getaway destination

Surely a boat was in my future.

With active teenagers, I knew we’d never have enough time on the water to justify a boat, so we settled for renting a pontoon a couple of times each summer. But this spring, as we were gearing up for our youngest child’s graduation from high school, I got a bad case of boat fever.

Stormy finds her soulmate
Stormy finds her soulmate

My ever-tolerant husband accepted that the metaphorical vessel was leaving the dock, and he had no choice but to climb aboard…and so he did. I researched options with other watercraft owners and sifted through a boatload of advice. A friend helped me narrow my choices and I spent Mother’s Day weekend checking out local used boats for sale—after three days of intense shopping, we found it in a showroom an hour north: A used deckboat in great condition with a 250 hp motor.

First, we needed to gear up. Life jackets, ropes, bumpers and a new rolling cooler were on the list. Memorial Day weekend provided our first opportunity to take the boat out. Cold and windy, it was lousy boating weather. But we were two weeks into a 30-day warranty and I wanted to make sure the engine ran. So we embarked on our maiden voyage. The first step was getting out of the marina. Surrounded by large, expensive boats, this was a daunting task. Did I mention that it was cold and windy? Wind + river current + novice driver + other people’s yachts = a very stressed Stormy! I decided to let my husband navigate out of the marina, while I wielded an oar for the purpose of pushing away from any boats toward which we might drift too perilously close.

Out on the river, I relaxed a little and we were able to confirm that everything ran properly. After a short excursion, we headed back to shore. My husband’s Parkinson’s meds had worn off, so I rose to the challenge of returning to the marina and took the helm. I had to drive faster than I wanted just to counteract the wind and the current, but I still found myself drifting uncomfortably close to much more expensive vessels. I quickly panicked and the only nautical skill I displayed was my ability to swear like a sailor. Fortunately, my gallant husband swooped in to rescue me. Even though, his meds weren’t working, the adrenaline surge caused by his wife’s distress compensated for the lack of dopamine until he flawlessly brought us to safe harbor—all neighboring boats unscathed.

After that initial excursion, a late spring and my daughter’s graduation kept us off the water until mid-June, but we spent the rest of the summer trying to make the most of our new purchase. Looking back on the season, I’ve learned several things about boating.

  • B-O-A-T stands for Bring On Another Thousand – My brother taught me that one, and based on one season’s experience of paying for gear, accessories and repairs, it appears to be true.
  • Rivers are trickier than lakes, and more fun – I had spent many summers boating on lakes, but boating on a busy river is a whole new ballgame. I love seeing all the other watercraft and their ports of origin—the St. Croix gets summer travelers from as far as the Gulf of Mexico—and people watching. I’ve also learned there are many hazards to navigate, as my propeller took a nasty hit when we ventured too close to a buoy and likely hit a wing dam. What’s a wing dam, you ask? Hah! Now you see my point!
  • I like going fast – Anyone who has ridden in my car would guess this, but I looooove it when the river finally widens so I can open up the throttle and jump the wakes of larger boats. I’ve also learned that can coolers, life preservers, hats and mojitos all need to be secured, lest I inadvertently pollute my Wild and Scenic River.
  • I will never get my money’s worth from this purchase… – There’s an old adage that the two happiest days in a boat owner’s life are the day they get the boat and the day they sell the boat. I’m sure this is based on the fact that boats are pricey toys and most people will never use theirs enough to get their money’s worth out of it. I can already see that will be true for us. Still, we got out on the river 7 or 8 times this summer, so that works out to…what…still more than $2k per outing!? At that rate, it’ll take us quite a while to make this a cost-effective recreational investment.
  • …yet I don’t regret it – This is perhaps the biggest surprise of all. I thought that after wanting a boat for so long, I’d become bored with one once I got it. But on a sunny summer day, there’s no place I’d rather be than on the river.

While I’m still very much a novice, my driving has improved a lot in one summer and learning a new skill has been good for my psyche. Most importantly, I’m learning that life—like boating—is easier when you learn to go with the flow.

The river beckons...
The river beckons…

Fashion over 40: Catwalk or Tightrope?

On By StormyIn Attitude, Children, Fashion/beauty, Getting older, Work/careers5 Comments

The year I turned 40, I instantly became more self-conscious about my clothing choices. I had always liked fashion, but I didn’t want to be one of those women who looked like she was trying too hard to hang on to her youth (aka: “mutton dressed as lamb”). Plus, with two adolescent girls, I didn’t want to embarrass them by trying to look like their peers.

At the same time, I like clothes. I like to be comfortable. I like what I like and I don’t like to be subjected to “rules” that are determined by my age. Over the last several years, I’ve become more comfortable with determining what’s right for me. And I think I walk that tightrope between fashion and appropriateness pretty well. But if I start to lose my balance, you can bet that my now 18- and 21-year-old daughters will extend a hand to save me from making a serious style misstep.

Case in point: Last year, I was obsessed with a leather sheath dress from Banana Republic. It was a classic style in soft brown leather—more polished and unexpected than the predictable black—so I thought I could put a professional spin on it and wear it to the office. sheath_dressMore expensive than my usual wardrobe choices, I watched the website for a sale. First it was in stock, but not on sale, then on sale, but out of stock. Finally the planets aligned: It was in stock and on sale. I ordered it and waited impatiently for my new purchase to arrive. A few days later the package was delivered. I rushed upstairs to try it on. It really was a lovely dress, with buttery supple leather. But when I tried it on and looked in the mirror: Meh. Despite the sizeable investment, it didn’t transform me the way I’d hoped. And at my age, I can’t afford to let my fashion dollars sit idle. Or was I just being too critical because of the hefty price tag? Looking for a second opinion, I walked downstairs and modeled my new purchase. “Whaddaya think?” I asked my husband and daughter. My husband (ever the diplomat) answered, “It’s nice.” My daughter—on the other hand—responded, “Mom, you look like a couch.”  With that appraisal, I had to face the cold hard truth: I wasn’t fashionable, I was furniture. Needless to say, back went the dress…

A fashion miss is one thing, but I take other “don’ts” more seriously.

Ummmm. "Don't"
Ummmm. “Don’t” (Photo credits: Michael Tran/FilmMagic)

For example, the fine line between “attractive” and “suggestive.” Having a rather delicate décolleté (i.e., the “girls” are truly “girls,” not full-grown “ladies”), I don’t have to worry about excess cleavage. But is this skirt too short? …this dress too form-fitting? …these heels too tall? I always struggle with finding the right balance.

Years ago, when KitKat and I worked together, if we were trying to evaluate whether something was inappropriate for work we had a foolproof test: The Bob Miller Axiom—named for a somewhat salacious coworker. If you were wearing anything borderline, you could rely on Bob to compliment you on it. And then you knew beyond a doubt that you probably shouldn’t wear that outfit to the office again.

In fact, when my husband and I ran into Bob and his wife on the beach as part of a work incentive trip, he even complimented me on my bikini. Now everyone knows that if you’re among coworkers in swimwear, you should assume a Cloak of Invisibility. That is, you do not acknowledge the aforementioned swimming attire, you don’t take candid photos and post them on Facebook, and most importantly, you don’t compliment the 30-something coworker’s taste in swimwear while you’re standing there with your 60-something wife.

With all these perils, you’d think it would be easier to just choose a “uniform” and stick with it (and as someone who spent her formative years in parochial school, I’ll admit to still having a bit of a thing for Black Watch plaid). Yes, while playing it safe would certainly be easier—and shave some time off my morning routine—I know I’ll continue to walk the tightrope. Because fashion is fun. Fashion is expressive. And when you’re in Marketing, you can justify spending more than you should on clothes by telling yourself your chosen field requires a stylish career wardrobe … at least that’s the creative rationalization KitKat and I employ. After all what better way to subtly underscore your keen grasp of pop culture and trends? Hey, whatever pays the (shoe) bills!  😉

Fixing the broken windows

On By StormyIn Attitude, RandomLeave a comment

KitKat and I have known each other for 15 years now and have become closer over the years due to some eerily similar personality traits. Really, it’s quite fascinating. To look at the two of us, you wouldn’t think we were that much alike, but our core attitudes—how we view the world—are so similar that I sometimes think we were separated at birth.

So when KitKat talks about making a mess of her life, I can admit that I’ve also got some cleaning up to do in mine. An article I read recently cited a theory about crime, the Broken Windows Theory, which I found interesting. In a nutshell, the theory is that small indicators of disorder can quickly escalate into something much more serious. That is: broken windows in an abandoned building lead to widespread vandalism which leads to squatters which leads to drug deals which lead to homicide… you get the picture.

The assumption is that your personal life has to be a mess to create, but how much chaos can you allow in before it takes over?                                  – David Byrne

This got me thinking about the broken windows in my own life. For example, I know this theory holds true in my house. When my house is clean, I make an effort to keep it that way—I’m more likely to put things away, wipe up the crumbs on the counter, etc. But if I’m tired one evening and leave a pile of papers on the coffee table or my shoes strewn on the living room floor, look out. A few days later, the house will be one big mound of clutter.

The broken window effect at work in my then-teenaged daughter’s room.

I’m sure a lot of you can relate to this example, but broken windows can also be more individual. A few months ago, I was having lunch with a friend. This friend was completely buried from a work standpoint, but had made time for lunch on the condition that on the way he could drop off his car to get it cleaned/detailed. I was a bit surprised he was concerned with something as superficial as his car, given all the critical work issues he was facing. He explained that his car was a mess—overflowing with the usual kid detritus and even dirty underwear from the gym. While as a dad this was understandable, as a sales person, it was a source of stress if he was suddenly required to drive a client or prospect to dinner or the airport.

This made sense, of course. The messy car was his broken window.

Since learning about this theory, I’ve been looking for the broken windows in my own life and I’m chagrined to admit that I’ve neglected a few. Part of it is summer laziness. Part of it is denial about what the future holds (like KitKat, I’m also uncomfortable Living in the Maybe). Part of it is just getting overwhelmed by the weeds… Every year, I have a beautiful, enviable garden through the month of June. Then the heat ratchets up, the mosquitoes all hatch and the weeds take over. Against this triple threat, I simply give up. With weeds, the consequences are not that serious (heck, even ragweed adds a striking touch of yellow to my late season garden), but when I let weeds take root in my life they seem to choke out every healthy thing.

From this...
From this…
...to this
…to this

So, like KitKat, I’m going to use this back-to-school time as a new start as well. I’m going to identify all the broken windows in my life and set about fixing them. It won’t happen in a day or even a week, but I’m hoping when the real new year begins (2014), I’ll feel more optimistic about the future than I do today.

The lazy, hazy, unproductive daze of summer

On By StormyIn Attitude, Blogging, Entertaining/leisure, Random1 Comment

When KitKat and I conceived this idea for a blog, a key question lurking in the back of my mind was, “Will we have enough energy/dedication/content to keep this thing going?” After all, I’ve been known to start many projects with great enthusiasm only to lose steam once life intervened (as it invariably does). Nonetheless, we launched in January with high hopes:  This project would sharpen our creative writing skills, serve as a crash course in blogging (something two marketers should understand) and, if we were lucky, would also allow us to exercise some middle-aged demons.

Our goal was for each of us to do one post, every two weeks, for a total of four postings a month. Off to a promising start, in January we posted 11 times. We each had a backlog of topics floating around our heads, and it seemed there was no end to the curveballs—or perhaps “snowballs” is more accurate—life was tossing our way. Every day seemed laden with a fresh blanket of material… February brought a slight decline in our writing output, but the shortest month of the year still saw us generate 7 posts. After that, we stabilized at a pace of about 5 posts per month. That’s one more than our “guidelines” dictated, so we were still doing great.

Then it finally got nice out.

feet by poolIf you’ve been reading this blog from the start, you no doubt detected a theme in our early posts that can best be summarized as, “two-mentally-unstable-women-living-in-a-perpetually-frozen-locale-churn-out-ironic-observations-about-life-to-keep-from-slipping-over-the-edge-of-sanity-and-bludgeoning-those-around-them-with-an-icicle.”

And for the most part it worked. We finally made it to summer with our marriages, jobs and good humor mostly intact. But if we consider blogging to be a form of online therapy (and we do), then there have been a couple of mental breakthroughs along the way. And one thing we’ve both learned is this: You’ve got to strike when the iron is hot–whether you’re talking about writing or living. Carpe diem. That may be trite and hackneyed, yes, but it’s also undeniably true.

Enjoying the beauty around you.
Enjoy the beauty in your own backyard.

Today’s swimming hole is tomorrow’s skating rink, so you need to make your splash before the first thin layer of ice takes hold of your heart. I know that a lot of people swear by meditative silence, but I find that if I spend too much time alone with my thoughts, I find myself fretting over thorns when I should be smelling the roses. I’m much happier when I’m doing stuff—whether it’s making strides toward solving a problem (e.g., at work), improving my surroundings (e.g., weeding my garden), focusing on others for a change (e.g., visiting my parents) or just enjoying the best that Minnesota has to offer (e.g., concerts in the park with my kids).

Concerts by the lake, a favorite summer past-time.
Concerts by the lake, a favorite summer past-time.

At the same time, KitKat and I have also found that writing a post when we’re uninspired—or when long summer nights are beckoning us outdoors—is useless. It just ain’t gonna happen. Yet, we believe there will still be a few summer moments when inspiration strikes, and we can crank out our thoughts in record speed. But until then, we’ll just sip our margaritas while waiting patiently for that muse to arrive.

The bottom line here is KitKat and I are slacking off a bit with our posts during these months. But we hope you won’t really notice because you, too, have dragged yourself away from the computer and are enjoying these fleeting days of summer. That’s what we want for our readers…  Just remember to come back in the fall. We promise that once October rolls around and the kids are settled into their school routines, our postings will wax as surely as our daylight hours wane, and we’ll be full of new stories to share. In the meantime, slack off a little yourself and go enjoy a margarita on the deck. We won’t tell.

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.
– John Lubbock
 

Power of the Clover!

On By StormyIn Attitude, Children, Entertaining/leisure, Faith, Getting older, Health/fitness, Work/careersLeave a comment

Anyone living in Minnesota has felt a bit unlucky this year. As KitKat and I have mentioned several times, we’ve had unprecedentedly lousy weather this spring/summer. In addition, work has been relentlessly busy. It’s all a bit wearing on the spirit, so in early June—when a brief break in the rain allowed me to get to some long-neglected yardwork—I found this:

Power of the Clover!
Power of the Clover!

We were preparing for my youngest child’s graduation open house and our home really isn’t large enough to host her many family and friends, so when I found the clover, I was excited. I may not believe in gambling for the big jackpot, but finding such a lucky token surely must mean something, right?

Feeling a bit beaten down and daunted by the task of getting my house and yard into tip-top shape for the party, I decided to embrace the power of the clover. No matter what transpired in the coming week, I was going to view it as good fortune. I believe that our outlook is mostly a matter of attitude, so if I used this symbol of good fortune as a reminder of my blessings, it would bring about a change in attitude that would ultimately benefit me. Well, that was my theory at any rate.

I started the week with my attitude adjustment firmly planted. I was lucky! Good things were going to happen at every turn! I just needed to keep my outlook positive and my eyes open. The previous three months may have been a bit—well, sucky—but the tide was a turnin’ now and everything would be going my way!

Despite my positive outlook, the week was inauspicious. While nothing terrible happened, it wasn’t exactly like Lady Luck was smiling upon me. I was a bit disappointed in my botanical harbinger. Then, at the end of the week, things took a decided turn for the worst. We had a system issue at work. This wouldn’t be terribly catastrophic except that we had just had a similar problem—one that cost our company time and money and our clients considerable disruption—a mere month earlier. We hadn’t experienced such a significant disruption to our business before that, and the thought that this new incident might mirror the earlier one was weighing heavily on our minds as we sought to troubleshoot the situation. “Power of the Clover!” I invoked. Maybe this was the situation for which the luck was intended? Well, the problem was resolved much quicker than previously, but it didn’t feel so much like good luck as just an avoidance of really bad luck.

Disenchanted with my clover, I turned my attention back to other matters. My daughter’s graduation was troubling me and not just because we were hosting a big party and the weather wasn’t cooperative. This was my youngest child’s graduation from high school. I would soon be an “empty nester.” Moreover, my birthday was looming ahead. So, combine bad weather/party stress/empty nest/mid-life crisis/anxiety about getting older and you get a stormy Stormy.

So on my long list of to-dos, was my annual exam. I was telling my nurse practitioner about all of the things going on in my life and she was nodding sympathetically. At the same time, she was telling me that I was in great shape. My blood pressure—great! My lungs sounded good. Pressing on my abdomen, she commented on my muscle tone and said I was in the best shape of anyone she had seen that day. I have to confess, I was feeling pretty good about myself. Maybe turning 48 wasn’t that big of a deal. Then it came time to do my breast exam. “There’s a lump. Feel it?” Sure enough. How did I miss that? (Maybe because I do a half-assed job at breast self-exams when I remember to do them at all?) “When was your last mammogram?” she asked. It had been 2 ½ years. Shit. “You need to get that checked out.” Next was my pelvic exam. “Your ovary is enlarged.” Double shit.And I had made an outrageous statement about cancer being more suited to my temperament than Parkinson’s in an earlier post. How stupid could a person be? I was just asking God for another big slice of humble pie! Even if neither were indications of cancer, it would likely take a while to get the all-clear report and the specter of doom would be hanging over my head all weekend—tainting my daughter’s party, Father’s Day and my birthday. Boo.

Fortunately (luckily?), my doctor’s office was able to line up diagnostic tests quickly: The mammogram would be later that afternoon, and an ultrasound of my ovaries would be done the next day.

Stormy freaking out.
Stormy freaking out.

I have to confess, I freaked out a bit while waiting for the tests—after all, I was facing TWO diagnostic tests for two DIFFERENT kinds of cancer, one of them highly fatal. I wasn’t sure of my odds, but they were doubled, right? It was like a frickin’ BOGO! Suddenly, the status quo looked pretty attractive. Preparing for my daughter’s open house seemed very insignificant. So did turning another year older. After all, it’s a blessing to tear another page off the calendar, right? A lot of people don’t get that privilege. What was wrong with me that I had been so absorbed with such petty matters?

Well, if I ever needed to invoke the Power of the Clover, this was it. And I’m happy to report that my little four-leaf friend came through for me. Both abnormalities were harmless cysts, not malignant tumors. Afterward, I was much more enthusiastic about the fact that I had a wonderful accomplished daughter whose graduation we were celebrating. (After all, this is a good thing, right?) And despite an ominous forecast, it was even sunny for her party. Yay! So lucky! And so what if I was turning another year older—that’s better than the alternative, right? And I was certainly another year wiser as well. Sooooo lucky!

My dad always says, “It’s better to be lucky than good.” And while, I can’t determine who coined that expression, there’s some truth in it. However, the part that’s not explained is that luck isn’t something you “find”—like a clover—it’s all around you, hiding in plain sight. Rather, it’s something you need to RECOGNIZE . In the end, the clover was just a lens through which I gained some much-needed perspective. I don’t expect this realization to last (it never does) but maybe I can come back and read this at a later date and that will help me remember the good fortune that surrounds me. And if it helps you keep a little perspective, too, then it’s all been worth it.

What would you do with 1/53 of a fortune? A whole lotto stuff!

On By StormyIn Attitude, Entertaining/leisure, Hobbies, Money, Random, Work/careersLeave a comment

lotteryThree weeks ago, unbeknownst to me, the Powerball jackpot reached $600,000,000. This is a lot of dough. However, not being much of a gambler, I wasn’t aware of the hype surrounding the potential payout until a coworker mentioned she was collecting $20 from anyone who wanted to go in on tickets. I just laughed and shook my head.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I will let it be known that I have been known to bet on things in the past. Generally speaking, I’ll bet on things like which artist recorded a one-hit wonder or what movie actor started a career on which sit-com. Smarty-pants bets, with the common thread being my desire to prove I know more than my opponent does of matters about which nobody really cares. Often I win, because I have a surprising memory for trivial facts. Occasionally, I lose and have to eat a well-deserved piece of humble pie.

“Italians come to ruin most generally in three ways, women, gambling, and farming. My family chose the slowest one.”

Pope John XXIII 

However, I rarely partake in institutional gambling—where it’s simply a matter of me trying to beat the odds against a corporate entity, state government or Native American tribe. I know this type of gambling wouldn’t exist if the house didn’t have the advantage, so it’s easy for me to pass by a slot machine or blackjack table. In fact, during my last trip to Vegas (for work), I didn’t so much as plug the penny slots.

Yet, I was surprised by my reaction to my coworker’s invitation to participate in the pool. Not because I was passing up a bet, but because I wasn’t that enticed by what should have been a tempting jackpot. I realized, much to my astonishment, that I actually have pretty much everything I need—and the remaining things I most desire can’t be purchased with a gambler’s winnings.

This hasn’t always been the case. For many years I thought most of my problems could be solved with more money. Lack of an education? Money for tuition. Lemon of a car? Money for a new one. Lousy job? Seed money for starting my own business. Etc., etc. However, after slowly finishing school and building my career, I now have little debt, a comfortable nest egg, and money for small luxuries and occasional big ones. When I realized how far I’ve come, I felt a sense of accomplishment. At the same time I was concerned: Was my Powerball apathy a sign of depression? Could I seriously not figure out a way to spend millions of dollars?

All around me coworkers fell under the spell of the potential jackpot and ponied up their $20. Even the president joined in. Jokes were made about what a ghost town the office would be on Monday when everyone simultaneously quit. Although I like my job, I eventually succumbed to peer pressure—the jackpot wasn’t the incentive, but holding down the fort as one of the few “left behind” was not an appealing thought.

In the end, 53 individuals joined together to increase their odds of winning by a miniscule degree. And when I challenged myself to consider what I’d do with 1/53rd of the winning jackpot, I actually came up with a few enticing ideas:

  1. We could move to a really nice, one-level house that would make life easier for my husband as his Parkinson’s progresses.
  2. I’ve always wanted a shiny convertible.
  3. I could invest in my brother’s restaurant.
  4. I’d pay more of my kids’ college tuition/student loans.
  5. I’d buy a vacation home in a warm location that all of my extended family could share.
  6. I’d also enjoy being able to offer greater financial support to my favorite causes.
  7. And finally, a month in Bora Bora would make next winter much more tolerable (yes, Barbigrrrl, I’d take you with me).
This seems like a good spot to ride out the Minnesota winter!
Whaddayathink? This looks like a good spot to wait out my next Minnesota winter!

I’ll admit that I didn’t really give the lottery a second thought after I dove into the pool, but that’s okay. It’s no secret that we didn’t win, but I didn’t have a shred of disappointment. I decided I was already pretty lucky—I have everything I really need and my imagination is still intact. 🙂

The curative powers of a well-timed hair appointment?

On By StormyIn Attitude, Fashion/beauty, Getting older, Parents, Random1 Comment

I’ve already mentioned that I can’t easily pay for services without feeling a twinge of guilt. In particular, spending money on hair cuts/color. First of all, hair grows, so whatever you do to it has temporal value, at best. It’s like when you drive a new car off the lot or buy top-of-the-line electronics. A rapidly depreciating investment.

"Good enough" or "tragically trendy"? You decide!
“Good enough” or “tragically trendy”? You decide!

Then there’s the vanity aspect: My mom used to cut my hair when I was a child—and though my haircuts weren’t always the latest style, they were deemed “good enough.” Likewise, my natural hair color (mousy brown) is fine, if a tad dull. My parents aren’t exactly puritans, but they are frugal, so I was raised to believe that spending a lot on a haircut was a waste of money as well as rather vain.

Over the years, I’ve managed to squash that pragmatic and wholesome attitude and have been seeing a professional stylist for a cut and color ever since an untimely home-dying episode left me with “hot roots”—in my case bright orange roots and dark dyed locks—the same day as my sister-in-law’s mother’s funeral. Although with a little foresight I could have called it “ombre” and been a trendsetter, at the time it was merely an inappropriate hairstyle for such a solemn occasion.

The professional stylist (my niece) was able to bring my hair back to balance with a nice rich color and tasteful highlights, but such expertise comes at a price (even with a family discount), so as my nod to frugality, I convinced myself I’d drag out the time between appointments as long as possible.

I had been in this wanting-to-make-an-appointment-but-it’s-still-too-soon phase for a couple of weeks and noticed that when I don’t like how my hair looks, I don’t like how life looks. My auburn hair always fades to a nondescript light brown and blah hair = blah life. I’ve never been lured to the light side by the promise that “blondes have more fun,” but I’ve always had a preference for hair color with some oomph to it. I also have the attention span of a gnat and don’t need to explain that switching hairstyles or hair color when I’m bored is easier than switching jobs or husbands.

Before
Before

But in addition to the color issue, my hair has taken a weird turn of late. A couple of years ago, I noticed a very decided “kink” partway down my normally stick-straight hair. And from there it continued to twist and turn until now, three years later, I’ve got wavy hair for the first time in my life at the age of 47 (admittedly, I’ll be 48 next month, but let’s not rush things, okay?!). Yet, despite the recent disposition toward kinkiness, some of the longer (older) hair is still straight toward the bottom—and a bit frizzy and fried from all the coloring and styling tools—so I was also in pretty dire need of a cut to shape things up.

Of course, after waiting until enough time had elapsed to justify another appointment, I discovered that my niece was booked for the next two weeks. Frustrated and impatient, I considered my alternatives. I have another niece who was finishing cosmetology school (it may seem odd that I actually have THREE nieces in this line of work ’til you realize how many nieces I have—let’s just say a lot). Unfortunately, booking a coloring slot would require leaving work early and I was too busy to do that. So, I waited…impatiently… until my scheduled appointment with my niece last week.

After
After

Which brings us to now. Although I did breathe a sigh of relief looking in the mirror as my niece dried my newly colored and freshly trimmed hair, I’m sad to say the euphoria was short-lived, and the next morning old troubles were still troubling me. I guess I’ve gotten more complex as I’ve gotten older, and no longer can my problems just be washed away with an expensive Aveda shampoo. Hmmm… Maybe I need to go shoe shopping instead. 🙂

The “Coffee Achiever” evaluates her options … and priorities

On By StormyIn Attitude, Health/fitness, RandomLeave a comment

As you may recall, I like my morning cup of coffee. Well, a couple of Saturdays ago, I woke up to make my morning cuppa only to find my standard-issue coffee maker had passed on during the night. (It was a good thing it was a Saturday, too. I had just come off of a particularly busy and stressful week at work and–as “A Coffee Achiever”—if it had died the day before, I’m sure I would have curled up into a little ball and cried.)

I had a brunch date with girlfriends, so I fumbled my way through a shower, pulled on some clothes and navigated my way to the restaurant (a risky maneuver, as I really shouldn’t operate heavy machinery without caffeine in my system). I ordered a cappuccino upon arrival and was then able to think clearly enough to devise a rough game plan:

  • The coffee maker needed to be replaced asap.
  • The death of my coffee maker presented an opportunity to explore new coffee-making options.
  • I could either make a decision quickly or drive to my “cabin” and fetch my coffee maker from there as a temporary substitute until I made a decision.

coffee-32376878468I spent Saturday exploring my options. I wanted something simple, but that would make really good, strong coffee. So I asked for opinions on Facebook about the various one-cup (pod) options. Last fall, while visiting my brother-in-law’s family, I had fallen in love with my sister-in-law’s very expensive “super-automatic” espresso machine. I wasn’t seriously considering spending so much on a replacement, but as I explored other options, I kept coming back to the Saeco espresso machine. As a master of the fine art of rationalization, I could justify it. After all, I drank coffee EVERY DAY. Plus, the super-automatic would make it easy for my husband to make a cup at his convenience throughout the day. But the online reviews pointed to a somewhat temperamental machine and it seemed a bit extravagant for a sensible Midwestern gal like me. So I was more seriously considering a Bonavita coffee maker—very highly rated—but simple to operate.

Sunday morning, after my husband ran out to get our morning coffee, I hit up several stores to consider my options. By afternoon, I was tired of decision-making and headed to the store that carried the Bonavita coffeemaker. But looking at it in the store, I wasn’t 100% convinced and thought about driving up to my cabin-condo to fetch my other coffeemaker until I was ready to make a decision. But walking back to my car, I passed another kitchen store and spontaneously popped in to check out the coffeemaker selection. There it was: The Saeco. In about a minute I decided to buy it. I’m worth it, damn it. And I like my coffee.

Oh, you suave Italian playboy, promising bliss and giving only heartache
Oh, you suave Italian playboy: promising bliss… but giving only heartache

Loading the large box in my car, it looked like the box had been opened and taped shut again. I was a bit concerned that it was a return, but shrugged off my concerns and brought my purchase home. While setting it up I discovered—you guessed it—a piece was broken. Augggh! It was 15 minutes until the store closed so I didn’t have time to exchange it. My darling daughter, taking pity on her mother, offered to run to Starbucks the next morning.

The next day on my lunch hour—fortified by that morning’s latte—I exchanged my Saeco. The only other one they had in the store was the floor model. Again, trepidation, but the floor model was kept on a high shelf and the manager assured me it was neither used nor abused, so I took the exchange.

That night I set up the new machine and… it didn’t work! At this point, I was totally disgusted. Damn Italian design! I spent the rest of the evening Googling various models of coffee makers. While reading reviews from people who laboriously roast their own beans, own $500 coffee grinders, and regard anything other than their personally handcrafted espresso to be undrinkable swill, another realization came upon me: I didn’t want to be associated with these people.

When I thought about the times I really enjoyed a cup of coffee, I thought of sitting on the dock at my sister’s cabin in beautiful northern Minnesota or first thing in the morning after a late night of client dinners at a work conference. I thought about sitting on the balcony of my cabin-condo with my husband or catching up with KitKat at the local coffee shop. I decided that I didn’t want to buy something that by its very superiority would lessen those treasured moments.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not passing judgment on someone who buys an expensive espresso machine. Not. At. All. If you like coffee and can afford it, go for it. I did—or tried to. (And if that darn Saeco had worked, rest assured that I’d be typing this while enjoying a lovely latte.)

Not as sexy, but he’s there for you in the morning.

However, the reverence with which some of the online reviewers idolized their espresso machines was as eye-opening as espresso itself. As I found myself spending a ridiculous amount of time trying to settle my own coffee dilemma, their obsessiveness hit a little too close to home. After all, I’ll give people second chances, maybe even third chances, but I don’t extend the same courtesy to appliances. Why was I spending so much time and energy on this one?

I decided that reliability is more important to me than Coffee Nirvana, so the next day I returned the Saeco and bought the Bonavita coffee maker instead. It reliably produces a decent cup of coffee, and I’ll just savor those transcendent moments of caffeinated bliss whenever they happen to occur.