Shaping My Way

Thank You

2009-07-06T07:20:00.001-04:00

I brought my blog back for an hour this morning, because I was emailed and told that I couldn't just disappear without saying anything.

I'm not going to explain why. It's not necessary. But I do want to say thank you. If you want to keep up on my art, and maybe an occasional post (strictly about art, I will not be blogging in the personal sense anymore) will continue to be posted at my art blog (http://kyraart.blogspot.com)

So, to everyone, I just want to say thank you. To those that supported me, thank you. To those that didn't? Well, thank you too.

New Work

2009-07-01T11:55:00.004-04:00

Just a couple of recent smaller new paintings...

Moment (Enchanted Forest series)
Acrylic, Metallic used (reflective in the light),
Gallery Wrapped (Gallery Deep, standard depth, 1 1/4 inch - no frame needed)
12" x 6" x 1.5"
$110

Unnamed (Enchanted Forest series)
Acrylic, Metallic used (reflective in the light),
Gallery Wrapped (Gallery Deep, standard depth, 1 1/4 inch - no frame needed)
6" x 6" x 1.5"
SOLD

I'm still churning out paintings from this series, and getting into a couple different slants with it, but I'm also excited to report I'm experimenting with a new series... we'll see how it turns out. Hopefully, I'll have something to show by next week from it.

Code of Conduct

2009-06-28T00:04:00.000-04:00

If you have a blog, you have probably had a visit from a troll. If you're new to reading blogs, a troll is someone who goes out of their way to comment on someone's blog in an offensive way. This does not include anyone who offers a respectful opinion that disagrees with the blog's author. No, a troll goes beyond disagreeing and instead decides to go on the attack.

I take things pretty personally, and the troll attacks generally make me pretty angry. It's my own personality fault, and I am well aware of it. Which is why I take such great satisfaction in deleting their comments before they're ever posted on my blog - and yes, this is the sole reason I screen comments.

However, over the past several months I have noticed an increase in the trolls all over the web. On some sites, I'm friends with the author and I get to see the personal toll it takes. On other sites, I'm not in the circle of friends - but just the same, it's obvious the attacks hurt. The attacks seem to be on the increase. The more vulnerable the author, the more intent the attacks. Sharks, scenting blood in the water.

I have a theory. I think that right now, as a whole, people are struggling against what is happening in the world at large, and in the smaller realm of their own. I think, as I have always thought, that there is a certain type of person who then takes to going online, donning their anonymous cap, and sets out on a seek and destroy mission. Because to them, venting their rage at someone they don't know is some sort of outlet. It releases the frustration they feel. They are so angry, hurt, and sad that they cannot comprehend that the person on the other end of the keyboard is a human being too. In my imagination, these trolls are victims of someone else, and their misguided attempt at trying to feel like they're in control somehow translates into becoming a perpetrator - so they can feel like they have the power.

I try to envision the trolls as victims, but there is undeniably a part of me that also thinks there are a bunch that are just cold-hearted, mean people - never the victim, and proud of their status. Unfortunately, I know this is true because I watched a relative of mine engage in this behavior (for the record, I was furious when I found out. But luckily this person thinks I'm evil and no longer speaks to me. Little blessings, although when a troll comments I often wonder if it is them.)

I read recently (although, I can't think of where) that the ability to go online, to rage, to vent, to attack, to do and say whatever you please (the good stuff included) is the example of the ultimate "free society". That the Internet is the last refuge of a censored world, where people can be "beautiful" in their rage and throw off the last restraints that society tries to hobble them with.

I like the idea of being able to say and do what I want, but at the same time? A world without a certain level of respect for your neighbors, and if you are online you are a neighbor to all of us as we are to each other, isn't a beautiful society. It's a nightmare. A "free" society is not one that exists without consequences. A shooting range is not a society anyone would willingly live in, even if they were holding the biggest gun.

I firmly believe that people should have to agree to a code of conduct before they're allowed to go online. I'm not suggesting anything like limiting their ability to cuss like a sailor and post naked pictures of themselves to their heart's content, to each their own. But I am suggesting that each person be forced to acknowledge that the people online, for the most part, are real. That when you encounter someone who you so disagree with that you need to tell them, that you do it in a fashion that expresses your opinion without seeking to wound. That when you encounter those who are hurting, regardless of how you feel they got that way (even if you feel they deserved it) that you don't then shoot their kneecaps out because they're vulnerable.

It's alright to be mad online. To be angry. To be sad. It has to be, because I do agree that we're very limited in real life in being allowed to show those emotions. In fact, how many times have you heard people rant something to the effect of "if I ask how you're doing - I don't actually want to know. It's a courtesy greeting question, just say fine and shut up!" That's the world we live in. You're sad? Go get a prescription, because we don't want to listen to you. You think you were treated unfairly? Well hush, because we all do. We're a "shut-up, you don't matter" society.

Online, we have the chance to speak our peace (or speak our piece, and then hold our peace.) We accept that others get to speak their minds back, even if they disagree. What I do not accept, and no one else should either, is that the Internet is some sort of free pass to be violent jackasses to one another.

It doesn't have to be this way. Every single person has it within them to be respectful, even at their worst moment. Maybe it's simply a matter of realizing that moment may just be right now, and that there is no more incredible expression of grace than not taking the killing blow when someone is bleeding before you.

Father's Day

2009-06-21T00:23:00.005-04:00

"You know what I realized Dad?" My daughter asked Mr. Savy.

"What?"

"You wouldn't even be able to party and have us wait on you and all this stuff on Father's Day if it weren't for US." Both of the kids had huge grins on their faces, while relating this important revelation.

"...so, really, you should probably be thanking us!" They were so proud.

This morning began with me being pulled out of bed at the crack of dawn to cook up breakfast in bed for Mr. Savy (breakfast burritos. I don't make them very often, because they're a lot of work. They're also really good, and we could sit around eating them all day long. Very dangerous.) Once everything was ready, I followed the kids up to our bedroom and watched them pounce on their father.

Nothing says Father's Day quite like having two children land on top of you simultaneously in order to wake you up.

After breakfast had been eaten, it was time to present the gifts. The kids had worked on one together, and wrapped it all up in a Lego carrying case. Inside, were about 30 "coupons". My children love giving coupons. They say things like "This entitles you to one free foot massage." Or "This entitles you to one game of soccer in the front yard with us." Mr. Savy has quite the stash to pick from.

It's the perfect gift.

But it was the stage whisper that I heard my daughter make to my son that really cracks me up; "No, seriously, don't worry. I didn't put in any that involved cleaning this time!"

Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there!

And for the ones who have lost, you never stop being their father...

Reminder

2009-06-17T03:46:00.002-04:00

On Monday, we had thunderstorms traipse through the area. The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed (not necessarily in that order, obviously.) The rain poured down so thick, it was clear that the clouds had better water pressure than my shower. And then... it stopped as suddenly as it had all started.

The clouds dispersed,birds and crickets chirped, and fog seethed around the trees as the sun sunk behind the mountains...

(these are both from my back door)

And I remembered why I like it here.

New Work

2009-06-09T18:52:00.005-04:00

Another new piece. It's another big one, 30 x 40 x 1.5" (gallery wrapped, gallery deep, sides painted - no frame necessary.) I utilized the metallic/iridescent acrylics again for certain portions, so here it is without the flash:

Partly Cloudy (Enchanted Forest series)
Acrylic, Metallic used (reflective in the light),
Gallery Wrapped (gallery depth, 1.5 inch)
30" x 40" x 1.5
$600

...and with the flash, where the various metallic/iridescent paints light up:

This painting, like the others, changes throughout the day and in different lights. I'm enjoying the shifting changes throughout the day with these paintings. Sort of like looking at a different every time, given the lighting circumstances.

Yes, it is similar to another one I did, but I'm playing with some aspects of things like clouds and moon texture (it's raised and swirled.) I'm still heavily into my Enchanted Forest series.... I'm just not bored with it yet. In fact, I think it's fair to say I'm a little obsessed with it right now.

Running Into Fear

2009-06-05T07:31:00.005-04:00

Runners have certain fears...

We worry that an oncoming car and driver will consider us a challenge to their authority, and they'll decide to test out their shocks by driving over us.

We worry about being abducted by aliens, or that creepy guy that we see trolling the neighborhood in the rusted out van without windows... and seriously, who sells a van made without windows without asking questions? Maybe the creepy guy is an alien.

We worry about twisting an ankle or tripping over something we didn't see, at the farthest point possible from our final destination. You never, ever, sprain your ankle on your driveway. It's always way out in the middle of nowhere, and if you brought your cell, it's a guaranteed dead-zone.

We worry about having to suddenly use the bathroom. If you are a non-runner, this will make no sense. But I promise you that all the runners, both new and old, are nodding their heads at this one. It's practically a right of passage... pun intended (I can't help it, it's Friday.)

If you are a city-runner, we worry about being mugged, about the bus belching fumes right when we have to gasp for breath, the paper boy getting in our way, the dogs, the mail-person, the idiotic teen on his bike on the sidewalk listening to his music and watching something behind him, and fire hydrants (for some reason, eventually they all blend into the surroundings until you run right into one.)

If you are a rural-runner, we worry about getting eaten by mountain lions or coyotes, poison ivy (especially if the whole bathroom issue presents itself), snakes, swarms of bees, dogs with no fence or leash, scary uni-bomber neighbors, and skunks.

If you really think about it, the fact that any of us make it out our door at all is pretty impressive! Still, with all the worries we have, usually our fears never actually present themselves.

This was not the case this morning.

I'm a rural-runner. Normally, this is really nice. I run by lakes and rivers. I listen to the birds chirping away. I watch bunnies happily hopping along and totally unconcerned by my approach. I scare cows (because they do get concerned by your approach), which is currently my favorite thing to do - nothing gets you out of bed and into your running shoes better than the opportunity to scare the begeezus out of a bunch of sleepy cows. I highly recommend it.

Right now, the lilacs and other Spring flowers are in bloom. Sometimes the smell is a little overwhelming, but it's still lovely. It feels like I have my own private flower garden to run through... Which is exactly what I was thinking this morning. Into those nice blissful thoughts intruded a smell that was not floral. Not in the least. And yet... so distinctive. Oh. ****.

Now, in all the years I have been running (about seven), I have come across wild turkeys, vultures, crows, deer, cows, dogs, cats, rats, possums, squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, coyotes, beavers (they're not as cute as you think up close and angry), rabbits, snakes, mice, eagles, owls, hawks, geese, and more. But never a skunk. Sure, they'll skulk around the house at night, tormenting the dogs (our Labrador seems to think he must get sprayed by a skunk at least twice a year or he's simply not complete.) They'll break into your chicken coop and kill chickens (I never knew skunks hunted chickens. I sort of pictured them eating flower blossoms and just being misunderstood in general simply because they were born smelling repulsive.) But I have never come across one outside of the chicken coop, or my house in the middle of the night... or squished in the middle of the road.

When faced with some of the more aggressive animals, most people have a pretty good idea of what to do. For example, I learned long ago that you should not run from an angry goose. Backing away is good, but running seems to give the impression that they have the upper hand, and beating the heck out of you with their wings is a good idea. Never run from a dog/hunting predator type of animal. Possums, I'm convinced, are vampires in their alternative forms, but they'll generally leave you alone.

If I had just seen the skunk, it would have been an easy situation. Instead, I was blissfully running along, and thinking how pretty everything smelled when suddenly it didn't smell pretty anymore. But I couldn't see the skunk. In a mental microsecond I covered all my choices and came to the conclusion that I didn't know what to do.

I could smell the skunk, but not see it.

If it's in front of me and I keep running, I'm guaranteed to get sprayed.

If it's right next to me in the bushes and I stop, I'm guaranteed to get sprayed.

If it's behind me, and I keep going... great... but I'm running an out-and-back, so when I go back in less than a minute (I was close to the turnaround) I'm guaranteed to get sprayed.

I felt like cartoon, where the character runs in little circles shouting "whaddIdo?whaddIdo?whaddIdo?whaddIdo?whaddIdo?whaddIdo?" But in a cute running skirt. Red. Like Super-Girl's. And I had no one to slap me and yell "Get ahold of yourself!"

I decided to keep running. I was almost at the turnaround, and I didn't want to start back early. I got to the turnaround. The smell intensified. Still, no visual confirmation of the skunk. I started back. The smell got stronger. Oh dear.

I started having problems with my pace, because I was spending a lot of time whipping my eyes around in every direction and apparently I am one of those people who really needs to be looking in the direction I am going. Or I derail. Into what I think was actually poison ivy (we'll see.)

Now, I have always been fine with admitting that I am not a fast runner. I run at around a 10 minute mile pace. I'm OK with that. I get where I am going, and yay me. The absolute fastest I have ever run a mile is 7:38. I thought I was going to die.

But you know what I found out? That when in the visual presence of a skunk, I can run incredibly fast. It was a good thing I had on my Super-Girl skirt, possibly it made me more aerodynamic as I sprinted by the skunk just emerging from the brush on the left. I beat my normal return time by more than two minutes.

So, maybe running into one of our running fears isn't as terrible as we imagine. Especially if it shaves time off our personal best!

I have to go look up poison ivy now.

grumble

2009-05-29T00:07:00.000-04:00

Moments when you think torture has merit...

When your husband tells you he messed up with the dates his parents are arriving, and they're showing up in just a few hours instead of a couple of days, and your house looks like a bomb went off - really, really bad (especially with all the rain and mud the dogs and kids have been tracking in, the left over garage sale in the garage, and worse) and then he informs you that he can't help with any of it because of prior commitments.

Nancy Drew, Where Are You?

2009-05-28T07:25:00.002-04:00

We have a mystery on our hands.

Last year, I discovered flowers that come from bulbs. Sure, I knew about them, but I never made the effort to use them. Then, one day there was a massive sale and I had about 30 to plant. I did, on either side of my driveway. One side bloomed with gorgeous color, the other side... nothing.

Something ate my bulbs, but only on the left side of my driveway (obsessive compulsive mole, maybe?) Now, this isn't that shocking because the driveway is outdoors and I live in a rural area. OK, score one for the varmints.

But this year, I bought a planter from the elementary school shop class (it's further off it's supports than the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but I find that charming considering it was built by hand by second graders.) I filled it with dirt, plunked in some huge Gladiola bulbs (I think that's what they were), sprinkled in some other flower seeds, watered it and walked away... only to come back and find my dog trying to sleep on top of the planter, even though it's narrower than he is by half.

I was mad. I shooed him off the planter. I turned away. I turned back, and he was on the planter again. I got so frustrated, I picked up the planter and put it in our garage, up high on the built in work bench. That'll teach him. I figured once everything starts coming up, I'll move it out and it'll be less attractive as a bed (I hope.)

This morning, when I went out for a run I found one of my bulbs slightly chewed in the middle of my driveway. I was furious! Clearly, that darn dog had done more than sleep on my planter! He obviously dug up the bulb earlier to play with and then went to sleep on it! Oh, I was so mad!

I picked up the bulb and set it aside, went for my run (in the pouring rain, plus no cows to startle - so my run did nothing to cheer me up and ease my anger.) When I got back, I asked Mr. Savy to put the bulb back in the planter on his way out to work since he was leaving through the garage. No problem, right?

Mr. Savy yelled for me to come to the garage, so wrapped in a towel out I went and looked at the carnage. Something had gotten into my planter. It couldn't have been a dog because it's too high, and the garage was closed. But whatever it was, it had dug up all my bulbs and there was dirt everywhere!

I asked Mr. Savy if he at least planted the bulb I found back in there, and he looked at me in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? What if.... it's still in there???" I'm thinking that there is a remote chance of that, because the planter is long and narrow, and the bulbs are the size of small baseballs - I figure the critter had to be relatively big to haul off the bulbs like that... right?

So the question is what kind of critter can get into a closed garage, scale a four foot workbench, find the planter out of all the other things in there, dig up baseball sized bulbs, and cart them back off again? And what on earth can I do about it?

Country Life

2009-05-27T12:36:00.004-04:00

I've had the Hoedown Throwdown (Miley Cyrus) stuck in my head since my daughter bought it and played it 6004 times since Friday night. (Polka-dot it!) This is similar to when your brain liquefies under extreme pressure, I'm thinkin'. No, this has nothing to do with anything, I just had to share my pain.

With that music as my backdrop to this post, I feel compelled to share that I think I may have scared a couple cows to death yesterday morning when I went for my run. I ran by the river again, and all along it there are homes. They're awful close to the edge, because the road is pretty much right on top of the water way on the side too - so squeezing a home in there is really pushing it. But, in a little "yard" area tucked into the recessed gap between the river and the road there were several cows. I didn't see them until I was on top of them because of the way the trees were, and apparently they hadn't seen or heard me clomping along either.

Let me just say that a startled cow (or four) is something totally worth witnessing. Totally. They jump, as in all four hooves off the ground, eyes bugging like a squeezed hamster, and make sounds like a giant dog-squeaky toy. Then they glare at you in embarrassment, and a whole "I knew you were there, I meant to do that" attitude like your cat has when he accidentally falls off something.

I'm going to run the same area again tomorrow, to see if I can do it again. Apparently, I'm fairly easy to entertain after all.

Remembering Old Joys

2009-05-20T03:01:00.003-04:00

This week I have been working on transitioning my running off the treadmill, and into the wild... er... outdoors. I was supposed to be transitioning with 30 minute walks five days a week for this entire month (in addition to my normal six days a week exercise routine), but between the play and my amazing ability to procrastinate once the day gets moving, I only went on a couple of walks.

Bad me. I know.

So in an effort to stop putting it off, I decided to bump up my transition plans. Originally, I was going to do 30 minute walks, five days a week for a couple weeks, and then start a beginner's running program that people use to learn to run for 30 minutes without stopping. I can already run for a long time, but running on a treadmill is significantly different from running outside, up and down hills, dodging insane squirrels, and sprinting past coyotes and deer.

This week was still a walk week, but I found myself staring at my ceiling at 5 AM. Why not start a bit of the running now? I don't know why, but a walk at 5 AM is repulsive, and a run is not.

So, I rolled out of bed, threw on my running gear, and headed out the door with a chorus of snores behind me. It was about half-way through my run that I had that rush of realization that "THIS is why I do this!"

I like running at 5 AM out here because the sun isn't up yet, but it's plenty bright, which means no sunblock but total visibility. It's 5 AM, so only one or two cars pass me in an entire 30 minute span. Even all the annoying (or scary) dogs I have to run past are still snoozing. I feel like I have the entire world to myself.

This morning I ran along a river, and at the bridge on the way back the sun was just starting to shine through the trees. The mist was rising off the river, thick because it was a very chilly morning with frost everywhere, and there were geese floating along peacefully content. It was perfect, and if I had a camera with me it would have made a beautiful shot (speaking of which, anyone know of any mini-mini cameras I could take with me for not the best shots, but more a portability thing? I would love to be able to post some photos from my runs.)

Then I passed a field full of frost and puffy dandelions. With the sun just coming over the ridge, and the frost turning to dew, the entire field sparkled like fireworks. I would have never seen any of it if I had stayed in bed and slept.

I had forgotten how much I love mornings like this.

Skirting The Issue

2009-05-19T01:01:00.002-04:00

I've been running for a while now... since 2000 or 2001, thereabouts. I never thought I would be a runner, since I'm so bad at it. But here I am, one marathon completed awhile back, a whole bunch of smaller races (from which I gathered truly hideous t-shirts from, I think they work hard to be that repulsive), and a 1/2 marathon coming up in November.

I learned a lot of things about running that I never would have imagined with my marathon training. Important things, like make sure you have the correct shoes for your gait and strike, or you will end up in physical therapy forever. Or how about needing to lubricate areas of your body you never even considered in danger of chafing with something called "Body Glide" (which made my husband crack up with laughter every time I mentioned it, until he went on a 6-miler and came back with bloody circles on his cotton t-shirt.)

I also learned that, for me, normal running shorts are awful. They bunch, they twist, they ride up. Since I'm no skinny-mini, this is especially embarrassing. If I could run in a muumuu, I totally would. Seriously, it was so bad that I cropped out my bottom half from my marathon photo, because Hello Wedgie! Excellent time for a photograph, thanks.

When I first saw running skirts, I scoffed a bit. Here was one more thing that I'm sure wouldn't look right on me when I run. Then, last year I got a DanSkin for $10 at Wal-Mart. I figured that for $10 it'd be worth giving a shot. I tried it, and loved it. It covered my backside (mostly; I'm 5'10, and everything is generally designed for a shorter person - i.e. it's a miniskirt on me - I would have liked an extra inch or two in length), didn't ride up, didn't bunch... and oh, yeah - it looked GOOD on me. At least while I was standing still. And really, that's all I can ask for. In motion, parts of my body defy physics in ways that would make a sailor blush, there's just no help for it.

I was so happy, that I didn't even care that there was a debate raging about running skirts and how "stupid" other runners thought the wearer might look. I have seen multiple comments to the effect of "wearing a skirt to run is a step backwards for women in the sport" and "if I see a runner in a skirt in any race I'm in, I make sure to beat them - because no one in a skirt should come in before a real runner" (that old runners elitism again. Or maybe they're afraid of being called skirt-chasers... or they want to be.)

I don't care. Running skirts are the only things I have ever run in that look semi-decent on me. I look pretty stupid in running shorts too, worse, really. So, the running skirt is a step up for me, and I'm going with it.

Sure the DanSkin wasn't the highest quality skirt, but it was still wonderful. I went back to snag a few more, and guess what? No running skirts. I watched for them for a year, and nothing. I looked online, and every skirt was extremely expensive except for the Champion ones. So, I snagged a couple of those. They're awful. They're made of some sort of thinner fabric that actually rides up. They gape at the waist (something I have found with most clothing manufacturers is that they can't comprehend that someone might have a tiny waist, and a not so tiny hips.) All in all, I am very unhappy with them.

So, that being said, I'm putting a call out to all the skirt runners out there! Tell me who has good running skirts! What brand do you recommend? I've heard about Runningskirts.com, but not tried any of their products, if you have - what do you think? Nike? Adidas?

New Age Booking

2009-05-12T15:07:00.003-04:00

Growing up, my house was full of books. My father read, my mother read, and I'm pretty sure the local librarians thought I was secretly living in the library, and was actually homeless. I read so much, that when I got in trouble my parents actually grounded me from reading (as well as from the television, music, friends, and anything else they could think of, but the reading part really stung.)

When I went on vacation in Arizona, I got to see my father's new gadget that he got for his birthday. My mother had given him a Kindle2. My father had tried to explain what a Kindle was by sending me all sorts of links, and raving about how happy he was since he is as voracious a reader as I am (or is it that I am as much a reader as he is?) He loved that you could take it everywhere, and literally have all the books you could want at your fingertips.

Online, it looked to me like an over-priced, glorified calculator. So, I sort of ignored the whole thing.

On our vacation, I got to see the Kindle... briefly. My mother had taken an even stronger liking to the gadget than my father. It got rather nasty at one point, with my mother sneaking off with it whenever my father wasn't looking. After all these years, I started to wonder if my parents would be brought to the brink of a divorce... over a Kindle. My father wised up quickly, and actually placed an order for a second one while we were on vacation, in the hopes that it would show up by the time we arrived back at their house. It was that, or risk the possibility of fighting for custody of the Kindle in court.

I saw it. It was kind of neat, and not quite the calculator I had been expecting. But I didn't get to play with it for more than a minute or two due to my mother absconding with it yet again.

But for Mother's Day, my husband handed me a box and announced that this was to make up for all the Mother's Days that he never gave me a gift (which was all of them, save for last year when I got a rose bush.) I now have my very own Kindle. A million stories at my fingertips... but it takes some getting used to.

It's pretty neat that it syncs up wirelessly and allows you to download anything you'd like immediately (and that the books are cheaper than their paper counterparts.) I was concerned about having to read a computer-like screen, but instead this has no light at all. They talk a lot of circles about it all being rearrangeable ink...whatever it is, it's like reading a normal book. No computer screen strain at all, and you cannot read it in the dark.

A problem I foresee with this is that I can now buy any book I'm interested in. Isn't that a little like offering a drug addict their very own stockpile to watch over? Thus far, I am behaving myself. I have only purchased two books (the latest in the Sookie Stackhouse novels, The Host, and I'm gearing up for the latest in the Black Dagger Brotherhood series, as well as Anita Blake.) But I think the only reason I've been able to keep myself in line is that I discovered a whole slew of free books on the website to play with. It won't hold me off for long, but it'll work for a little while.

At first, I didn't much like reading on the Kindle. But, like I said, it takes getting used to. Once I was into the story, and it was a good one, it got easier and easier, until I was wandering around with the Kindle wherever I went. I did find that I missed holding the paper of a book, and turning the pages. Plus, when you reach the end of a novel it's...well, just over. There is no back cover to snap shut, no bent pages to try to flatten out. Nothing. It's a little like a tree not falling in a forest, but trying to make a sound anyway.

And I can't read in the bath anymore. I know many people who think it's a stupid thing to do anyway, but reading in a bubble bath is just one of those things. I don't need anyone else to understand it; it just makes me happy. But there is no way I'm taking a Kindle into the bath with me. (Hint to the manufacturers: design a durable, waterproof version please!)

Minus those two things? My parents were right. This little gadget is pretty nifty. And I'm now under serious pressure for Father's Day.

Judging

2009-05-08T03:02:00.003-04:00

I'm not a church-going individual (waiting for the lightning...) I used to be, at my parents' insistence, while growing up. I did the rounds through several religions, and spent way too many years on my knees in a Catholic church (you have no idea how thrilled I was when my parents found one with padded kneeling bars installed on the backs of all the pews.) Once in college, I took a world religion class and realized that people aren't as different as they like to think they are. That ended my religious leanings.

When people ask what church I go to, what religion I am, I respond that I have no religion, but I have faith. Usually they start backing away, cautiously, as if they might get caught in the blast that is surely coming my way. They act as if I have declared myself half-Chromagnum, and that at any moment I might start climbing the walls and trying to hunt down their cat for a snack. Heathen. Of course, these same people who just judged me as going to hell - with or without my hand basket - like to then quote “Judge not, lest ye not be judged”at every turn.

Judging is a tough topic. I brought up my religious leanings, because that seems to be the easiest place to start. I can't tell you the number of times I have been told I'm going to hell, by people belonging to just about every Christian religion out there. So many people use their religious grounds in order to judge, that it sincerely baffles me considering how many religious wars have happened throughout history based on the principle of judging others for being different. It seems to me that for all the preaching about being careful about how one judges others, humans have spent an awful amount of time doing just the opposite.

I've always found myself sincerely terrified of judgment. It didn't matter if it came from my peers or from On High, I knew that no matter what I would be found lacking. In all seriousness, is judging ever a positive experience? Even if you come out on the right end of a judgment, say in legal circumstances, isn't there a great deal of negativity attached from the get-go? If there wasn't, it's likely you wouldn't be seeking out someone to rule in your favor, right? Even on silly things like contests, if the judges vote you the winner, doesn't that mean someone else didn't measure up?

And yet... where would we be without our judgment? Good judgment, I mean. Because everyone wants to have good judgment, it's what our mothers always admonished us for not having when we did something like shave our initials onto the dog's behind when grandma came for a visit (not that I ever did that.)

We mustn't forget our glass house, either. I love the glass house statement. "People in glass houses should not throw stones." As a kid, I always tried to imagine how that person in that glass house ever got the courage up to use the bathroom. Awkward. Not to mention the massive amounts of Windex that would be required for upkeep. I did grasp the point, but imagining all the details was far more entertaining. Don't criticize or judge when you can be called on the carpet too, because everyone has faults.

I was chatting with a friend recently over whether or not people have become more judgmental than they used to be. I was just coming off the receiving end of a judgmental experience where I was criticized for being "one of those types of people," and wondering what exactly that meant. What had I been doing at the time? Hot-gluing tinsel to fake rose trees for a play. I hadn't stepped on any toes, and the person complaining about me like I couldn't hear her from about three yards away is not someone I know all that well. I don't even recall her name, and I don't know that she cared all that much about mine. Frankly, I don't know that she cared at all about me, except that I somehow presented an opportunity for her to find fault.

Still, it irked me. One of those types of people? What type? Artistic? Non-native-Vermonter? Tall? Red-headed? Younger than her? Billy-the-kid-with-a-glue-gun and accidentally hot-gluing body parts to fake trees? Addicted to sparkly tinsel, and the play was just an excuse to roll around in it? WHAT??!?! What did I do this time?

It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't. Yet, it did. Why? Because she was judging me. Judging me just because she could, and then trying to get others to agree with her and leave me out of something coming up.

Being judged negatively means that something you are doing is wrong, there is an error, something that needs to be fixed in their eyes. This triggers the "I'm not good enough! Must fix! Must please!" reaction that I find sincerely UNhelpful in general. Which irked me more. Which caused me to hot-glue my thumb to another rose by accident, which resulted in a couple additional blisters. So, naturally I felt that everyone is more judgmental now than they were. My own little skewed judgment, based primarily on a wounded ego and a blistered thumb. Not exactly scientific reasoning.

Luckily, my friend pointed out how judgemental people were while I was growing up. I mean, let's face it - in the 1980's if you didn't have six pairs of neon-pastel colored socks on all at once, lots of bangle bracelets, and a boom-box, you were doomed. Life hasn't gotten any easier, but maybe it hasn't gotten any worse. It just seemed like it had, for that moment that someone was calling me "one of those types of people."

I think that perhaps part of my skewed perspective is that somehow the line between an opinion and a judgment have blurred for a lot of people. An opinion is something that you are allowed to differ from. Everyone has an opinion, and it's (generally) acceptable to have an opposing one. But a judgment is something that you are expected to agree with, to get behind and enforce if necessary. A judgment is supposed to be a weighing of the facts, and a conclusion that is come to through a compilation of the evidence leading to a clear destination. Usually.

I don't think I'm the only person who has witnessed a blurring of the lines between the two. I think a lot of people not only have an opinion, but fully expect people to agree and take action based on theirs. That turns what used to be an opinion into a judgment, when perhaps a judgment is inappropriate given the circumstances.

So, maybe my question is valid after all? Are people less opinionated (and tolerant of those opposing opinions), and more judgmental instead? What do you think? On this, personally? I'm honestly not sure.

Plus, if I had the answer... what would I do with it? Maybe the answer is to start a campaign back to being opinionated. Do opinionated people throw stones while they live in glass houses, or just bouncy-balls? Because in my opinion, the world would be far better off with more bouncy-balls flying than rocks.

Perspective of the Journey

2009-05-06T11:28:00.004-04:00

Have you ever wondered why movies always portray artists as jealousy guarding their work under sheets, and threatening to disembowel anyone who peeks? It's because it's true. Not the sheet part, necessarily (hello? The sheet sticks to wet paint! No artist in their right mind would drape a wet painting in progress without a guard against that.) But we generally do take steps to hide our works in progress.

But why?

I thought it was silly too, until I actually experienced people peeking at my work before it was finished. What we're actually guarding against is the person from the outside who cannot see the beauty in the moment. Sure, the painting or sculpture isn't done yet... but that doesn't mean that this part or that part isn't looking nice. They don't see the good in all that's left to be finished, how far it's come, all they see is something that "doesn't look right." And nothing else.

Mr. Savy used to comment on my works in progress, until I finally let him know he was on the verge of losing his ability to have children, without the benefit of anesthesia. He would pop up and say "well, what about that part... that looks wrong." Well, YEAH, because it hasn't been painted yet! It is only sketched out... sort of like an idea or marker of what is to come. Can't you see the part that is finished? Are you blind?

It's not his fault though, because this is how most people are. It's another form of instant gratification; if it's not all there, it never will be. We want everything there, the way it should be - and right now!!!

How often do we do this to ourselves? How often do we look in the mirror and think because we don't look the way we figure we should, that what's there just looks wrong. How often do we forget that we are in progress. We're not done yet, and to only focus on the unfinished is to completely miss the beauty of what is.

What's more , we also forget that the effort put into something adds value. Wal-mart, K-mart, Target, and places like that offer computerized paintings. It's on canvas, it's framed, it uses the same paints anyone would... but a computer spits it onto the canvas over and over and over again. Cheap art, and now you too can own a piece that took a machine 60 seconds to create.

But do you value it? A lot? Or would you value more a painting that you knew was one of a kind? The painting you bought is the one that the artist slaved over, made choices, and sighed over for hours and hours. That to the artist, you bought a little raindrop of their soul that spoke to you. Would you say that the effort and journey that scrap of canvas and wood took to make it to the final product you bought made it worth more to you than the K-mart special?

If so, then why is anything in your life any different?

If you went and simply bought a piece of paper that said you had an advanced college degree and then went to the top spot in some company, while that might be fun for a little while... how much more would you appreciate that influential and important occupational position if you had worked hard through college, started in the mail room and worked your way up through experience? Isn't the experience along the way what makes the following steps all the better? Isn't it the journey that actually makes the destination?

I hear from too many people that they look in the mirror and they can't find the person they want to be. They don't like what they see. They're too fat, too thin, too this or that. They're unfinished, and therefore they see nothing of value.

It's OK to look in the mirror and see things you plan to change. It's necessary, actually. Can you imagine looking in the mirror and thinking "Gee, I'm so just perfect! La-dee-da!" And then what? If you're perfect, what is there left to do? What do you cultivate for yourself? And seriously? If you are perfect, you just became the most boring person on the planet.

The journey is now. You are in it. The effort you have made to get to where you are, good and bad, is what's behind the image you see. It's a level of disrespect to look into that mirror and see nothing but bad. You are not a computer-spit-out rendition. You are a true painting in progress, and there is beauty there - from the clear cool white of a blank canvas, to the chaotic rush of life, you have beauty to appreciate if only you can take a moment to really look at who you are.

I have never met an ugly person. Never. I never will, either. Neither should you, whether it's someone else or you looking yourself over in the mirror. Find the beauty, it's not hiding - you're only choosing not to see it, because it's not finished to your satisfaction.

If you can only see the beauty at the end of the road, then all you're looking for out of life is a K-Mart painting. And you know what? You deserve better.

A Sweaty Issue

2009-04-28T07:20:00.002-04:00

In the past, I have spoken with many a person who has said that they would exercise if only it didn't make them sweaty. Most people who exercise regularly immediately scoff at those types. They say things like "You are supposed to sweat while you work out! It's getting rid of all the toxins, and such! It's your body doing what you ask it to! And geeze, you CAN always take a shower, you know."

The thing is, while I work out six days a week and sweat like a championship fighter while doing so? I totally get it. I have learned to embrace the sweat when I'm working really hard. After a really long or hard run, there is a moment just afterward, while you are cooling down and the sweat is dripping off your face where you feel like you really accomplished something. In that moment, sweat is your friend, your partner.

But the rest of the time? Ugh.

My mother lives in Arizona, and has very short and thin hair. So, to her it's no big deal to take a shower multiple times a day if necessary. Her hair dries in about thirty seconds, and she's on her way. For me, my hair is so thick that even when I did have it really short it took hours and hours to dry. Plus, I hated having short hair. So, now I have long hair that can literally take 24 hours if the humidity is too high and I don't give in and spend an hour drying it (I try never to do that.) This makes taking multiple showers an ordeal.

Mostly, I have dealt with this issue by working out early in the morning and getting my shower and feeling great the rest of the day. But right now I'm trying to increase my daily activity levels by adding in a 2-3 mile, fast-paced walk every afternoon. This walk is outdoors, to help ease the transition from my indoor running on the treadmill (which I am still doing, but not for long.) I'm working on dropping down to a certain weight before my actual training for the San Antonio half-marathon begins in July as well, and this helps.

I've even decided to try and break my dependence on sweet things, so I am doing a mini-challenge to myself to drop all sugar, and artificially sweetened things (like diet soda, gum, etc) for 5 weeks. Why 5 weeks? Because it's a nice number, and I probably won't give a fig about the sweet stuff anymore by that point (probably even earlier.) I've gone without it before, and once over the initial angst, all my cravings for them went away. Mr. Savy is in on this with me, giving up his beer and chips, and soda as well as the sweet things (getting into his old pants proved an uncomfortable enough feat to join me.)

I'm willing to give up my beloved chocolate, willing to run 13.1 miles in a race and do all the training necessary to do so... but I'm finding my hang-up is with the stupid extra walk I have scheduled. Not because I don't want to go, but because I'm done with my sweating for the day! I don't want to get all icky again.

The whole purpose of the walk being scheduled later is to push up the activity level at a different time of the day. I could easily tack it on to my workouts at 5:30 AM, but that would be missing a lot of the point. So, I find myself in a similar spot that a lot of people do, albeit for the second time in a day... trying to suck it up, and go get sweaty even though I really don't want to.

What's the point? None, really, except to say that to the folks who don't like that part of working out; you aren't alone. Even us seasoned exercisers dread certain parts of the process, and can be just as big a wimp as the next person.

Remebering Feeling Good

2009-04-20T07:02:00.004-04:00

I was reading a book that had absolutely nothing to do with fitness or food (and a lot to do with sexy vampires... it's a sickness, I can't seem to help myself), when I came across a statement that the main character made that really prompted my brain to turn on. Basically, the statement was that all eating is enjoyable, even if you don't particularly like the food being served. That the simple act of eating is pleasurable.

Really? Even brussel sprouts? Liver and onions? I mean, I totally grasp the concept of sitting down to a slice of pizza and zonking out in bliss... but is every eating experience pleasurable, even when it's not the perfect meal we're desiring? My brain cranked into overdrive.

What I came up with is that, yes, all eating is pleasurable. However, not all acts of eating stay that way. Not because the food isn't what we want, but because we make it the experience that way. And wow, life is the same way. (Dagnabbit, another life re-evaluation? AGAIN? Brought on from a vampire novel, are you kidding me?)

One of the things that has always bothered me is food. Seriously. All food. I have felt, since I was a child, that I don't really have the right to eat. I'm sure this goes back to all sorts of childhood things, but whatever. Let's not dwell. The fact of the matter is that I don't feel I have a right to eat, whether it be carrots or cake. It doesn't matter. So, I go into all meals with that hanging over my head. This in turn makes whatever pleasure I take from the physical act of eating into something forbidden in its own bizarre way. How can you enjoy something you feel is wrong?

Now, I know I'm not the norm. I am well aware that my issues are unusual. And yet, I'm not all that different from everyone else. When you go off the rails, and you have a box of cookies, or a bag of take-out in your hands and you are seeking the pleasure from the food (for whatever your reasons are, and usually at this point it's a coping mechanism because something else has gone wrong) - do you ever find that pleasure? In reality, even for a single moment do you find it? I know we say we do for that moment (a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, yadda yadda.) But do you really, truly find that pleasure?

Because I have to tell you that I never have. Not in that moment. As a matter of fact, that moment is so far from pleasure it's laughable.

I started chatting with friends who have less messed up issues with food than I do, and even they admitted to often finding the act of eating not a lot of fun. Not because of the food, but because of all the junk we pile onto it. We have to eat this for the fiber content. We need to eat that for the vitamins. We need to have three servings of that, because we're supposed to. We can't have that, because of that reunion coming up. I shouldn't have that, because I want to fit into those jeans. And then you add in the internal issues from your day, and your life, and well... it's a wonder we make it to the table at all!

None of that sounds like any fun. Quite frankly, the more I thought about how my relationship with food is - the more I wished I could just give up eating altogether. Whether it's chocolate or parsnips, eating is no fun. And you know what? It should be.

Even if you are on a new nutritional journey, you should enjoy your meals. I'm not talking wallowing in the taste like it's ambrosia, but enjoying the physical act of fueling your body. You're supposed to, it's a natural thing. Nature backs it up with little rewards to encourage you to eat. I think we got her message, but forgot what she actually meant and just forged on ahead like a stampeding herd of elephants.

The things we do in our life should make us happy, on some level. Not in some blissfully, woohoo, my life is fantastic, happy-happy way. But that quiet, whispering, almost unnoticeably happy way where your brain clicks and says "this makes me happy right now." This applies to so much in life. Your nutrition/eating, exercise, employment, family, home, etc.

Maybe you hate your job, but going there should still make you just a little bit happy - because you are providing for yourself, or some other reason that means something to you. Every action in your life should provide an element of happiness, even if it's small, otherwise it's the wrong decision or you aren't paying attention.

I know that this is true. I don't have all my ducks in a row, but I think I'm finally pulling the cotton out of my ears. Food is a big deal in my life because I have a horrible relationship with it. I used to have a bad one with exercise, but I figured out how to make friends; I found the joy in the action, even if I could think of a thousand other things I'd rather be doing. Eating is the same way. My career, my life choices, my day to day choices... they're all the same way too.

When someone asks if you're happy, I think that's a sort of complicated question. But maybe the answer could be yes if we gathered the little bits of happiness from everything we do... even when it involves brussel sprouts.

More New Work

2009-04-16T00:07:00.006-04:00

I have been on a painting jag for a few weeks now. I go through these periods when I paint and paint and paint... and then nothing for an extended period of time. Feast or famine.

If I try to paint during the down time, I mess everything up that I attempt. If I try to do something else productive during my painting time, I mess all of that up instead. Maybe that makes art sound romantic; that we're just driven to extremes, art ruling the artist and not the other way around. In reality, it's just annoying and really inconvenient.

Still, it's been nice to have this period of productivity right now. I have a feeling I'm nearing the end soon. Not yet, but soon. Right now? I'm totally obsessed with my forest. It's evolving too, I have new stuff in the works that's slightly different from where even these ended up. We'll see if it works out, or not.

These pieces are all from my Enchanted Forest Series.

Over the past three days I completed this medium sized piece (the colors in person are closer to the photo with the flash);

Without flash (yes, the moon is very 3D, because I really layered the metallic paint in multiple hues):

With flash (man, I just love these sparkly paints):

This is a standard depth gallery wrapped canvas (1 1/4 inch depth, so you generally wouldn't frame it - you'd just pop it up on the wall. This is how I paint my gallery wrapped sides regardless of depth, too, so it's a good example to show. I just really like the painting pushing out from the wall effect that you get with these canvases, very organic feeling, which is why I favor them.):Midnight Brook (Enchanted Forest series)

Acrylic, Metallic used (reflective in the light),
Gallery Wrapped (Gallery Deep, standard depth, 1 1/4 inch - no frame needed)
11" x 14"
$300

I also completed these three mini-paintings. They're smaller paintings with metallic paint. As shown here you can see how a 6"x6" can fit into your hand, so the details look a little different compared to the very large paintings pared down onto a blog sized picture for the web:

They all light up with the metallic paints too, just like the larger pieces.

Blue, Green and Purple Trees (Enchanted Forest Series)

Acrylic 6" x 6" (these are SMALL paintings),
Gallery Wrapped (shallow, iridescent paints)
$45

I have a red and silver piece I am really trying to make work, but I don't know if it will. I hope to finish it tomorrow, actually... but we'll see. Additionally, I think I may have solved my art gallery web page problems. If so, I'll have a new "store" to unveil once I get my act together that should make it very easy to purchase from.

I'm excited about it, but it's going to take a bit of time to work it out. If it all pans out, I should be able to keep everything running along and up to date! What a nice thing that would be!

Not Ok to be OK

2009-04-15T00:58:00.001-04:00

I've noticed something a little strange lately; it doesn't seem to be acceptable to be doing well with anything.

Now, I know that people have always had a nasty streak when it comes to someone else succeeding in something. Not all people are like this, and there are nice people who really do want the best for you - that will cheer you all the way, and mean it down to their very toes. But there are an awful lot of people who will crawl out of their muddy holes in the ground to be mad that you did anything right, had anything go your way. People you thought were in your corner, even. It always sounds the same, no matter what the good news is... a snide "Well, gee. It must be nice to be you."

But, while there has always been this element, I think it's increased lately. I don't know if it's due to the economy and the enormous amount of stress that everyone is under, or if it's just become more acceptable for people to behave this way, but it's absolutely on the rise. It's gotten so bad that people are actually afraid to share good news.

I have heard from multiple friends online that they're not blogging much because work has gone really well for them, and they didn't feel that they could share that they got a raise or something else equally worth being happy about. Why? Because it would upset other people. Other people would go out of their way to put them down because they had done well. It's gotten so bad, that people are hesitant to share when they've bought a new car, or closed on a new house. And a promotion? Oh, forget about it. That's like asking someone to shoot you, now - and they'll line up to do it.

You just aren't allowed to share good news right now, and you know what? That stinks. I could use some good news, I think people deserve some good news right now. The fact that someone is doing well doesn't mean that they're taking anything away from anyone else. If someone lands a new job, they didn't do it to spite all the other folks who interviewed for it. If someone gets a raise for working really hard for years, it's not that they stole it from the guy next to them. If someone gets engaged to the love of their life, it's not a comment on any marital struggles anyone else has. If someone gets pregnant, it's not to rub it in the face of someone who has fertility problems. Good news doesn't mean they're attacking you. Period!

Frankly? I'd like to hear some good news. From anyone! And I actually have good news, and I can't tell anyone! Not because it's some big secret, because it isn't. I can't tell anyone, because it makes everyone else so weird. I can't talk to my family (mom and dad) about it, because things are not happy-happy over in that camp. Worse, it's a good thing that is in direct contrast to something bad going on with my brother's life. So, off limits. Zip it.

Mr. Savy hasn't even shared this with his own parents for similar reasons on his side. He says he'll get around to mentioning it eventually, but that he would just rather ignore the whole thing for now. Can you imagine working hard for years towards something, and then not being able to tell the people close to you who know you've been working so hard for it?

So, we've turned inward. Any good news, we keep to ourselves. For a while, I really messed up though. Good news was so taboo, and complaining so accepted, that I looked for the things to be upset about so I could participate in all the conversations I walked into here, locally. The thing is, I'm really good at finding the bad in life because I'm a major pessimist as it is. I'm like an evil Pollyanna. It was like giving that dark side of me free reign, and that is such a bad idea.

I realized I was making myself miserable, and it was entirely my own fault. So now, I don't add to it. I listen. I nod. But I don't look to complain or add to the drama of whatever has captured people's attention this week. Sometimes it's a struggle, because the bad stuff is just so easy. I keep anything good a complete secret, not because it needs to be a secret - but because it's just not acceptable to have anything good right now to talk about.

Overall, this just makes me sad. If you bought a new house, got a new job, had a baby, got engaged, are happily pregnant, got a promotion, won the lottery, whatever - I would love to hear it. I would love for you to share it.

Someone once said that good luck and a good attitude/mood are contagious. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Another New Piece

2009-04-11T09:06:00.003-04:00

I finished this one last night. It's another in my Enchanted Forest Series, so yes, you are noticing a common theme with them right now.

Blue (Enchanted Forest series)
Acrylic, Metallic used, Gallery Wrapped (shallow depth, 3/4 inch)
16" x 20"
$275

And here it is with the flash, so you can see how it lights up in various lighting situations. The metallics/iridescents are used on the trees, the moon, the water, and highlights on the bushes. It causes a blur on camera which isn't present in person.

I know, again with the metallics. I'd apologize, but the fact of the matter is that I'm going through a sparkly addiction phase. I don't know how long it's going to last, and I don't care. It's sparkly, and it makes me irrationally happy. I'd roll in the stuff, if I could (I wonder if they have a 12-step program for sparkly paint?)

My intention was to make this one with silver sparkly paint, but it just looked washed out and wrong on the blue (which surprised me, because I thought it would end up looking really elegant.) So, I swapped it into golds and coppers instead. I am still working on a silver one (red back ground) which will probably be done by tomorrow. I don't know if I like it or not yet.

What's most entertaining to me is that this series is encompassing the most landscapes I have ever painted in my life, and I'm still not tired of them yet. I even bought new sparkly paint and canvases to keep on feeding my addiction with it. They're all for sale, and I have a few interested buyers, but no one solid yet. If I have enough left by September, I think I'm going to open a show with these (though, I would rather sell them, because hiding behind the potted plants at shows is tiring.)

Grumpies

2009-04-08T07:36:00.004-04:00

I'm grumpy. That's probably the reason behind my "I hate Spring" post yesterday. I don't want to be grumpy, but I really, really am.

I don't think I am the only one. My kids have been sniping at each other almost non-stop for two days, which is really unusual as they're best friends. I know Mr. Savy is on edge for multiple legitimate reasons - work and otherwise (he did taxes this past weekend, and I'm proud to say we survived another tax season without ending in divorce.) Even the cat and the dogs have been a bit high strung lately.

I'm just finding everything really annoying. I'm annoyed that my doctor is leaving her practice again, but this time must be going far far away because I got a note in the mail saying "good luck finding someone else" from the practice which is being dissolved. I had a major discrepancy in an art supply shipment. I'm suffering from severe upper stomach/chest pain attacks on a frequent basis and I think I might have to give in and see an actual doctor about it. Maybe. I screwed up a painting last night (which I almost never do now, I think I have messed up three in about ten years now.) It snowed and I'm cold.

*sigh*

I think I need a trip to Disney World. I should go play lotto, with that intent being the sole purpose. I never really play any lottery games (I have never even actually bought a scratch off ticket before,) but maybe if I did with the purpose to spend the entire thing on a Disney Vacation... maybe I'd win? Because that would make a really cool story and seriously get rid of this nasty case of the grumpies.

Springy

2009-04-07T07:23:00.004-04:00

I hate Spring. I know, there are people who love Spring, and it's their favorite time of year... but I hate it. There are only two parts of Spring that I like: dandelion season (which, technically is almost Summer), and the "bawking" lion on the Cadbury eggs commercial.

Although, this one was pretty entertaining when I first saw it too:

But that darn lion with the bunny ears on it yelling "BWWWWAAAAAK!" makes me snort every time. It's going to always be my favorite, I think. Irony of ironies; I can't stand Cadbury eggs. I can stand the caramel ones although I'm still not a fan, but the regular ones make me seriously ill. Regardless, I could watch that lion over and over.

I just don't like the rainy, dreary days full of mud and gloom that Spring is up North, here. I grew up in Colorado, and maybe my brain has sort of glossed over the whole Spring experience, but I remember a couple dismal days and then surprise! It's 80 degrees and green and sunny from here on out! Sure, the leaves were all just suddenly there, and out of nowhere you could get a sneak attack of three feet of snow which would crack full grown trees in half, but really the transitions were very dramatic there and I liked it. Winter, done - Summer now! And that was Spring.

Here? Barren black trees and brown everything else. Cold. Rain. Gloom. Darkness (I haven't seen the sun for days at this point.) Mud... Oh, lord the mud. They even call it Mud Season. I think that perhaps they have a name for it, so people can take hope that it will end. Perhaps "Mud Plague" would have been more appropriate, though.

Every year I know if I can just make it through Spring, I'll like living here again. Dandelion season is just around the corner (and I'll be posting pictures, of course.) I just have to hold out. I think I'll just keep watching the egg commercials over and over again...

Fat Science

2009-04-06T00:29:00.001-04:00

I'm married to an engineer(d), which means we have all sorts of scientific publications floating around the house. Some are so boring, they make any diary products within a 20 yard radius turn sour. Others are more interesting, like Mr. Savy's Popular Science magazine. I grew up with this sort of magazine via my father, and I used to abscond with it to read all the articles. See, I'm not all fluff. I even understood all the big words.

The March 2009 issue had a couple of articles that really caught my attention; Hunting the Elusive Fat Pill, and The Unusual Suspects. They're absolutely worth the read.

I had already come to pretty much the same conclusions the Fat Pill article outlined; that biology is against us. We have evolved as a species that needed to survive famine, and as such our systems just don't grasp that we now live with abundance in both food and condensed calories. But the article went further to explain all sorts of additional things like the fact that your body doesn't understand when it's carrying extra weight. All it knows when you go on a "diet" is that you have taken away the status quo and it's determined to maintain it by dropping your metabolism and making you more efficient.

"...when your body weight drops by about 10 percent, metabolism drops to conserve energy, fat oxidation drops, and your muscles become about 40 percent more efficient and burn fewer calories"

I wanted to throw up when I read that. I mean, I knew that our bodies were working overtime to try and keep the fat on us when we work hard to take it off, but 40%!?!

I know, I know. You have to look at it from a survival standpoint. In your body's view, you are eating less. You have already lost 10% of your body weight, and it thinks that something is wrong. You aren't able to catch your prey anymore. Maybe all the plants died off. Whatever, all it knows is that the food source is threatened. It doesn't understand that we now live in a world where people can eat themselves to death. That's just not something that was included in our blueprint.

I get it, but man, does it frustrate me. You think you're hungrier while losing weight? It's because you are. You think about food more? Because your body is telling you to not let the weight loss happen. The article literally states that the body has no idea it's overweight or obese. None. So losing weight is just one big fire alarm in the brain saying "STOP!" Really, if you take it all the way it means you need to make sure to never, ever gain a single extra pound to start with - because once you have, well you're up the creek (I'd be curious about any data showing when the body accepts a "new normal" healthy weight after a loss is maintained properly - how long does it take, and does it actually kick in? Or are the formerly pudgy doomed to always fight harder than their counterparts even when they're not overweight anymore?)

That's not to say that there isn't hope. There is. People lose weight all the time, get fit, and never look back (much.) But I think the part of the article I liked best were the closing comments about how you have to look at this weight thing a bit more scientifically. No one wants to be overweight, they didn't run out and choose this (that's not to say that downing your sorrows in cupcakes is excusable, because it's not.) We're in a mismatched time, evolution and biologically speaking. Science helps jump the gaps in other mismatches, and weight is just as real an issue scientifically as any other on the table.

Stepping back from the article, I think this is really interesting. Because, while people think about other scientific challenges as legitimate, most tend to think about weight as one where we have someone to blame. Not just blame, but crucify. While there is absolutely a massive dose of personal responsibility involved, it seems that more and more is coming out about why the battle is so hard to begin with. That it is not 100% about personal choice, and the whim of someone. Because they're right; no one says that they want to be fat. No thin, happy, healthy person says that they would really like to end up with the couch merging with their thighs while life passes them by. No one.

Now, before I get jumped on - realize that I am someone who believes in making the hard choices for the betterment of your life, even when the battle is on your front doorstep. You can call that willpower if you like, but I think it's bigger than that. If you choose to let today pass by and not even get a walk in, well why was that? Whose fault was that? Not evolution's.

In the end, the article breaks down a lot of things so they're a lot easier to understand, but the underlying truth is that it's possible for us to not be over weight if we made the correct choices and actions to back it up. It's harder for some than others. It's different for every single person regardless, because no two people are exactly the same. What the article did was outline in greater depth the struggle that happens between the choice and the reality, and that science needs to continue to be involved. That we, as a whole, really do need help. Help being different from someone stepping in and waving a wand to do it for you, which even I would like - but let's face it, this is my body and my life and I have a responsibility to both. So does everyone else, and I still believe that.

The second article, The Unusual Suspects, is even scarier. It's about what researchers are finding that contribute to our expanding waistlines, and other various (and rather odd) theories.

The theory that scares me the most? That artificial sweeteners and sugar substitutes make us fatter. Why? Because I'm a sweetie. Mr. Savy is a saltie. He likes chips, and beer and those sorts of things. I like ice cream, and so on. You can have your salt, ick. So, I meet my sweet cravings by adding sweetener to my rolled oats and flax in the mornings instead of having something I shouldn't. It's in my MRP shakes (chocolate, of course.) I have cycles where I'm addicted to diet cola (I'm not sure why this is exactly, I'm just coming off one now.) I like me some sweet!

But the article mentioned a study where the rats lost their ability to keep track of what they were eating and when enough was enough just because they had the artificial sweetener earlier in the day. In other words, it is possible that I could be literally handicapping my brain/calorie/stop-eating-you-nit-wit center with my splenda indulgences! GAH! Sure, more study is needed... but at the same time this sounds too much like common sense for me to ignore it.

The article continues with other theories (that I'll let you read, because I've blathered on long enough), and while some made me roll my eyes, others didn't. The theory involving the chemicals in our food, packaging, pesticides, pollution and so on is just downright frightening.

The article was followed up with all sorts of diagrams about who's the fattest, where, and so on. In a diagram, the World Health Organization estimates that Americans eat about 3,766 calories a day. I just find that absolutely amazing. I'm not sure how they came up with that total.... but wow.

I don't have some pithy way to sum all this up. This was just a lot of fascinating information on a subject I know better than I want to. It also opened up my mind further to looking at weight more scientifically than I normally do. I think it's just so easy to group it 100% in the "it's you're own damn fault!" column, without leaving room for even the smallest possibility that maybe it's not all our own fault. And if it isn't, that means that we're fighting in a game where we aren't aware of all the players. No wonder it's so hard... That's not to say that we can't win anyway, but it's just nice to know that it's not all in our imagination after all.

Traffic Jam On Aisle 11

2009-04-04T18:37:00.003-04:00

I had the enormous (annoyance) pleasure of going grocery shopping today. A Saturday. You should never grocery shop on a Friday afternoon/evening (payday), a Saturday morning/afternoon, all day on a Sunday, or the day before a holiday. Those are the times that every single person is out in the store, shoving their way through the aisles and running over your feet with carts.

Unfortunately, I was sent out by my family. I'm pretty sure they would have resorted to illegal tactics if I had held out much longer. It was getting pretty scary by the time I said "ALRIGHT, already! I'm going! I'm going! Look! Coat! Jacket! Keys! Wallet! BACK, YOU HEATHENS! BACK!" and set the chair down as I dashed out the garage door.

I think there was a time when I enjoyed grocery shopping. I seem to have a vague memory of it. I had a lot of fun looking at all the interesting and unusual things that were for sale. Grocery shopping, when you're not starving (big key point right there,) was great, because you could imagine all the neat things you could make with this, or wouldn't that taste divine? Or, wow! Hey, I didn't know they sold that!

But what I also remember about fun grocery shopping is actually shopping in a BIG grocery store. I remember wide aisles. I remember multiple check-out lanes. I remember being able to go at two in the morning if I had the need. Oh, the joys of city life.

In the country, the grocery stores are limited (no competition - we can charge those chumps whatever we want!), small (as in EEK! The giant pile of cans are going to crush me! Call 9-1-1!), and only open between certain hours (everyone in the pool!) Today was no exception, except for the fact that I am absolutely convinced our store manager is employed by either Candid Camera, or the devil.

In every single excessively narrow aisle there were new display stands of things that jutted out half-way across the floor space. In addition to those little extras, apparently all the stocking had to be done right then. So, huge dollies (is that the right term?) were jutting out the ends of the aisles, sprawled across the middle, and jammed into checkout lanes. With all that extra chaos, the store had also set up a huge Easter display that blocked of the majority of the front aisles altogether. I saw one lady topple a pile of boxed jelly beans and robin's eggs. In addition to all of that, it was also Saturday. Saturdays mean cooking in the aisles and trying to sell you extra stuff that they've just cooked. Because there is nothing like being burned by molten-hot splattering oil while you try to navigate the cereal aisle to make you want to buy fried scallops. That are SIX AISLES AWAY.

I did find one part of my shopping trip absolutely hilarious. There was a massive back-up of traffic in the frozen section. We're talking 12 carts (or 30% of the population). Why? Because there was this woman with long hair, braids, love beads and bracelets, bell bottoms, yellow vest with rainbows and daisies embroidered on it, in her late 50's or early 60's on a cell phone (straight out hippie, you never would have thought she'd own a cell phone) having a huge conversation about what ice cream to buy. While she ran through all the flavors, and I do mean all of them, I had time to wonder why it is that the ice cream is always right next to the vegetables and diet-frozen-dinners. Again, I think it's the evil store manager. Eeeevil, I say.

The other shoppers were rather divided in their reactions to the woman. No one could get past her. There was a giant cage full of inflatable balls that took up almost the entire aisle, so you could only get past it by scraping by on either side. One side was blocked with one of those stupid dollies full of stuff. The rest of us had piled behind the woman thinking we'd all keep moving along at a normal pace. Just like in rush hour traffic, we were stuck. We couldn't back up and turn around. We couldn't move forward.

A couple old ladies tried the "if I talk loud enough, the woman will take the hint" tactic and tried a few loud "Well, I never have seen anyone hold up decent people like this in a store! Manners!" and such. They struck out. Apparently blue hair and disapproving remarks have no affect on cell phone wielding hippies on an ice cream mission. One mom toting a herd of children under five had her brood screaming in a rather impressive chorus of "we wanna GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *sob*" But again, nada.

I saw the man directly behind the woman start edging his cart up on her. I think he was in a vicious debate with himself on the merits of nudging her "accidentally" from behind, but just when he would get close enough to almost touch her... he pulled back. He repeated this about three times before I was distracted by the argument with the stocking-boy. I guess the patrons figured that an employee of the store was a much easier target than the woman with the cell phone. Unfortunately, the poor boy (he could only have been about 16) was blocked in on both sides by carts too. He kept putting up his hands and shrugging. Where was he supposed to go?

Finally, the woman came to a decision and snapped her phone closed. Vanilla. That's right, all that drama and holding folks up for over five minutes for freaking VANILLA ICE CREAM! Generic, store brand, vanilla ice cream! (Vanilla? Come on! There are so many better choices than that!) And do you think she even gave a second look or acknowledged all the people backed up behind her? Nope. One look, a "huh" under her breath, and on she went with a smile on her face. Completely oblivious. Wow.

Everyone was pretty much struck speechless. Even the screaming kids fell silent and we all kind of looked at each other as if to say "Did that really happen?" A moment of solidarity between strangers in the war zone we call a grocery store on a late Saturday morning, brought on by a cell-phone wielding hippie after generic vanilla ice cream. Amazing.

And then it ended, and everyone went their separate ways. If I had been in a rush, I probably would have been beside myself with irritation during the whole ordeal. Instead, I was more bemused than anything else. Or maybe amused is a better term. It almost makes me want to pick up some vanilla ice cream... oh who am I kidding, chocolate or bust, baby! Or mint chocolate chip. Or cookies and cream. Or chocolate peanut butter swirl... or....

Dang, I think I spent too much time in the ice cream section today. I may have to go stick my head in my vegetable bin to dislodge the urge to dive into a vat of Ben & Jerry's.

In A World Like This

2009-04-03T07:42:00.004-04:00

Bad things happen to everyone. Sometimes really, really bad things happen to people that are completely unexplainable. But how do you deal with the bad things going forward?

I recently heard a woman discussing her child who was in a severe accident, and she related that when she asked a counselor whether her daughter would be alright, the counselor replied "I don't know. She has a choice to make: she'll either believe that the world is a bad place where bad things happen, or she'll believe the world is a good place where bad things happen."

The whole concept just stopped me in my tracks. What do I believe? We all have had bad things happen, and it doesn't matter the magnitude, because that choice is the same for every single person in the wake of something bad. I still don't have a clear-cut answer to the question. I think it's hard for me to answer because I know that I want to believe that the world is a good place where bad things just happen sometimes... but I guess it depends on your definition of "world".

If we're talking the planet, and cultures when glanced at from afar, I think the world is a truly amazing place. Awe inspiring. Breathtaking. When I think of natural events where bad things happened (like the tsunami, or even a tornado that touches down and wipes out a hospital, etc) I think the world is a good place where bad things just sometimes happen. No one is to blame, there is no reason. Sometimes bad things just happen.

If we start including people, on a more identifiable level, that is where I think it gets tricky. In this case, I think I am on the other side of the fence. Where people are concerned, I think the world is a bad place where bad things happen, as well as good things. The reason for my opinion switch is because with people there is a strong element of intent and choice. Bad things don't "just happen", people make them happen.

I think my viewpoint stems from the fact that a great deal of people seem to take great joy in hurting other people, getting one up over them, victimizing them. Even in the small ways, which I think is somehow worse because of the additional opportunities to do so. I mean, you have always had your psychopathic killers out there who cut a swath of destruction through many people's lives until they're stopped. But think about all the small things people do to one another? You can even look at the Internet and the inordinate amount of people who are deliberately going through blogs and attacking the authors, or making horrible comments on news stories, or just in general looking for anything they can criticize about someone else. Just to hurt someone else. Because hurting someone else makes them feel better.

Worse, those people are not few and far between, there are so many. They're in the next cubicle over, just dying to tell you that you look like you've gained weight, or screwed up on the project. They're in the grocery store next to you, telling you to get the hell out of their way because they're more important than you are. They're tailgating you on your way home, sniping to your friends behind your back, pointing out your shortcomings to your neighbors...

Sure, it's little stuff. Momentary, and passing. But to the person affected? Momentary is wishful thinking.

I don't know how the world was before I arrived in it. I like to think that people treated one another better than this. The current news reports are littered with stories about office mates becoming ruder, air travelers becoming ruder, drivers becoming more hostile, children becoming more disrespectful, bullying on the rise for adults as well as children, the list is endless. Maybe it's just that they're only talking about it now? Maybe people have always been this way?

But you know what? I don't think so, and I think it's a good sign that I don't think people were always this bad. That means, in my mind, that there is hope. That means that all those nice people that are respectful and friendly, that capture your attention now because it's such a rare thing (for example, saying thank you when someone holds a door open for you), that those people are what everyone could be, should be. Can be.

I also believe that those nice people have their mean moments too. But that means that most of those mean people probably have their nice moments... even if I'm not ever able to witness them. Which, in someone else's case, could lead to the thought that the world - including people - is a good place, where people just behave badly sometimes... but while I love Pollyanna, she annoys me.

I believe it's more of a weighted average; are you more mean than nice? If so, I lump you in with the mean people. Maybe you held the door for that lady going into the bank, but if you then spent the rest of your time trying to undermine your coworkers, and then headed home yell at your spouse and to troll blogs and make as many hurtful comments as possible, I lump you in with the bad. You have potential, but I'm admittedly harsh that way.

The worst part is realizing this. I didn't always used to be this way. I did believe in the good in everyone prevailing. I believed that sometimes people make bad decisions, but in the end they most likely weren't trying to hurt anyone. I think I've just seen too many people actually out to hurt someone, and it's jaded me. I think we have an amazing world, and that too many people are screwing it up and making it a bad place for many others. I don't know if that is a good answer. Maybe it's splitting hairs? But I also believe that we're not past the point of no return.

So, I have negative view of the world as a whole when people are included, but a (possibly delusional) dash of hope mixed in that I refuse to let go of. I still wish I saw everything as good with random acts of bad. But I lost that ability a long time ago, and I'm not certain as to how to get it back. I'm also not convinced I'm wrong to have the view I do now, which probably does me no favors.

So tell me what you believe, and why. Do you think things have changed over the years in your experience? Are people getting worse, or are things about the same as they have always been, except that we're more vocal about it now? What kind of world do you see?

Shaping My Way

Thank You

New Work

Code of Conduct

Father's Day

Reminder

New Work

Running Into Fear

*grumble*

Nancy Drew, Where Are You?

Country Life

Remembering Old Joys

Skirting The Issue

New Age Booking

Judging

Perspective of the Journey

A Sweaty Issue

Remebering Feeling Good

More New Work

Not Ok to be OK

Another New Piece

Grumpies

Springy

Fat Science

Traffic Jam On Aisle 11

In A World Like This

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