I've got this nagging pain...

I don't know how in the world it happened, but I am a nag. I nag my kid about homework and practicing her clarinet. I nag her about finishing chores she hasn't even started. I nag at work. I nag the nurse, I nag the doctor, I nag the patients. I nag the girl scouts, and I really nag their mothers. I have to nag them about meetings and supplies and permission slips and field trips. I nag the ESA ladies about meetings, and forms and more meetings and events and carpools and reports and due dates.

I've tried to stop sending out emails about when the next meeting is. If I do not nag, girl scouts will not show up, and ESA ladies will send me an email (so I get 6) asking if we have a meeting this week. People have come to depend on my nagging.


So you would think that I am on top of things, since I have all this time to remind others of what they should be doing, right? Well you would be wrong. I have access to a state of the art tool that no one else seems to be able to find yet, I guess it is still in "beta" or something- a calendar.
Here is how it works: When I am notified of a due date for a project, or an event I would like to attend, or a meeting... I make a notation in the corresponding box on the calendar. Sounds easy, right? I think so, but apparently it's tougher than it seems. I suspect the tricky part for many people is actually looking at the calendar.

I've found a neat solution to that problem. I use (and highly recommend) Google Calendar and Tasks, which I sync with my blackberry. I use my blackberry as an alarm clock. Every morning at 5:30, while I sleep, Google sends my daily agenda to my blackberry, which wakes me up an hour later. I check my agenda before I ever get out of bed, and I know what is happening after work, what bills are due, and where my kid needs to be.

I think that if I can keep track of my schedule, anyone can keep track of theirs. I am not a particularly organized person... I just don't have anyone to nag me.

Macramania

I am planning a camping trip at the end of the month. We are going to Central Oregon, and I will visit Crater Lake for the first time. We will be gone for a week. I typically take a craft project with me when we go camping. In the past, I have knit washcloths and crocheted tote bags and soap savers. This year, I am almost more excited from my craft project than camping. I am going to macrame a chair, maybe two!

It all started when I decided that I need another sturdy chair. Macrame chairs are difficult to locate... none on craigslist, or ebay. I thought about a nylon-webbed aluminum chair in my garage, and wondered how difficult it would be to macrame it. And here is where the internet fell short.

There are precious few instructions on the internet for macrame chairs. In fact, there isn't a lot of macrame instruction in cyberspace, period. I found one set of instructions at kingskountry.com, and I know the chair will turn out right because substituting "k" for "c" is a well-known way that businesses can tell their customers "We know what's up."

My plan is to take pictures of the process and make a tutorial, and start an awesome macrame chair sensation that will sweep the nation. Then, I'll change my blog name to Krazy Blog Lady.

My two cents

suggested by The Occasional Editorialist

"They say that money can't buy happiness. Do you believe this to be true?"

I don't believe money can buy happiness, I think that subject has been covered. I have noticed that a lot of the miserable people I deal with lack jobs and money, so I have come to the conclusion that the lack of money, when material desire is still present, leads to unhappiness. I do not think I am making any groundbreaking assertions here.
There are happy rich people, and happy poor people, and miserable rich bastards and miserable poor bastards. Obviously, then, money can't buy happiness. But it can buy peace of mind, and stability, and little luxuries that can bring joy to an otherwise bad day.

I am reminded of a time a few years back when my stepsister was having marriage troubles. I asked how things were going, and she said, "You know that Ann Murray song... (singing) 'Even though we ain't got money- I'm so in love with you, honey"
"Yeah" I said, thinking to myself that she is such a Good Person who always has a Positive Attitude.
"I am so tired of that f-ing song."

8 fringe remedies I use

I'm a believer in modern medicine, but I will always try a natural or OTC remedy if the condition isn't urgent. Here are 8 that I have found effective.

* Valerian Root- this is possibly the stinkiest substance known to man, but it works wonders to calm my nerves. It's been called herbal Valium. Having never taken Valium, I can't draw a comparison myself...but I can say for certain that on days when I am a little edgy, Valerian helps.

* Chamomile tea- specifically, this chamomile tea by Traditional Medicinals. I knw the box says it is for stress relief, but I haven't been able to stay awake long enough to see if I have less stress. As effective as diphenhydramine (Benadryl, Tylenol PM) for insomnia- it just takes a little longer to work. A cup an hour before bedtime does the trick.

* Cranberry- Here is my UTI protocol: The minute I feel a twinge, I take a Cystex, which is an over-the-counter antiseptic/ anesthetic for the pee hole, immediately followed by three or four cranberry tablets every three to four hours and a short soak in a nearly scalding bath. I have been doing this for years, and it works for me.

* Aspirin in Wintergreen Alcohol- This is a remedy for achy muscles my husband uses. It was introduced to him by a friend, whose elderly mother had been making it for him for years. The recipe calls for 12 crushed aspirin dissolved in a bottle of wintergreen alcohol... but we double the aspirin. My husband uses a cotton ball to apply the preparation to sore shoulders after baseball games, and he swears by it.

* Aloe- straight from the plant, we squoosh out the gel and apply to burns and abrasions.

* Neti pot- Neti is a technically a yoga technique, but I don't understand all the mumbo-jumbo. All I know is that I love my neti pot. It looks like a little teapot with a long spout. The pot gets filled with a saline solution, and the solution goes up the spout, into one nostril, and out the other. Hooray clear sinuses!

* Fish Oil- I take a fish oil capsule daily because it has been linked to a lot of benefits. I have no idea if it works or not. I do get a "Caesar Salad" burp about 5 minutes after I take it. So there's that.

* Peppermint Oil- My aunt Carol introduced me to the wonders of peppermint when I was little and had a stomachache at her house. She gave me a glass of water with a drop or tow of peppermint oil in it, and she told me if I drank it, my stomach would feel better. I guess it worked, because I buy peppermint oil to give to my daughter for stomachaches and hiccups. (Aunt Carol told me it also works for hiccups. It works as well as anything else!)

I am sorta hoping for a sunburn this year, I've heard great things about Witch Hazel for treating it, among other things. If I get a chance to try it, I'll be sure to report back.

Things I learned this week

Live to Ride, Ride to Live. The nice weather at the beginning of the week inspired the Mr. To clean up his motorcycle and get the tabs renewed. Tabs are registration stickers... in Washington, they are called tags. Or maybe the reverse is true.
Here's what I learned this week.

I learned how to get a free yacht and what to do with it. Awesome!

I learned about Lucy Leith, who is an 11 year old duct tape crafter. I think when I was 11, my tape skills consisted of making funny pig faces with scotch tape.

I learned that American health insurance companies have over 5 billion dollars invested in Big Tobacco. Talk about hedging their bets.

I'm with the band.

Today was the Strawberry Festival Parade in Lebanon, Oregon. The above shortcake, covered in white plastic, is paraded through town, followed by the typical Shriners and fair princesses and marching bands. The Memorial Middle School band played Land of 1000 dances for 2 miles, and I helped.
We boarded the bus, and I had a strange mix of emotions. On the one hand, I was nostalgic, because I hadn't been on a yellow bus for more than 20 years. Not much has changed. On the other hand, not much has changed in the school bus department in 20 years, and I found myself wondering about bus safety. No seatbelts! No helmets! Our bus driver was very old. I guess that the loud kids didn't bother him because he is deaf. He left his right turn signal on for 15 minutes on the highway.
I was given drumstick duty. If a percussionist were to drop his or her sticks, I would have to dodge the remaining half of the band, the trumpets and bass instruments, to retrieve the stick and return it to the drummer. Fortunately, it was a cool day and the drummers' hands did not get sweaty. Everyone held onto their sticks and mallets.




I am an accomplished parader. I have appeared in parades in Seattle, Ocean Park, Seaside, and Bend. I organize the Albany Girl Scouts' entry into the Albany Veteran's Day Parade (the largest such parade west of the Mississippi!) every year.
I thought I had seen crowds... but I had never seen a crowd like the one in Lebanon. sidewalks were lined with 5 rows of those stupid chairs I detest. In fact, the parade was so large that there was reverse-pamphleteering going on- as I marched by a spectator, he pressed a pamphlet into my hand advertising a quilt show!

The band did very well, especially at first. At about the 1.25 mile mark, their lips and arms began to get tired, and the brass section was definitely not as strong as it was in the beginning. However, at the 1.75 mile mark, the kids got their second wind and pushed through to the end.

Many parents picked their kids up at the parade, so the bus was less than half full on the ride home. Because there were fewer conversations happening at once, I could hear most of them. Middle schoolers are just goofy. I could detail their conversations, but I won't, as this is a family blog. I did notice that they are EMPHATIC about EVERYTHING.

In the afternoon, we had a MMS band picnic at Bryant Park. Two band dads grilled burgers and dogs, and we all feasted on potluck fare. (I had Kirkland Green Tea with Citrus- zero calories, delish!)
After dinner, a group of us made our way to the softball field, where we sorta played. Mind you, these are Band Kids. I was pretty happy with the way we played... I am sure that a lot of these kids have never felt a bat in their hand make contact with a ball, but everyone got a "hit" today. We didn't keep track of balls and strikes, or outs, or innings... and after a while it was just "Take a Turn at the Plate." My new favorite game.

A real hero

Oh how I love "David after the Dentist", the You Tube sensation that swept the nation a few months ago. The video stars David, who appears to be 5 or 6, in the back seat of his dad's car, after a visit to the dentist. It appears that David was sedated for his procedure, and is still "waking up" in the car. He acts silly, and asks funny questions, and his dad has the presence of mind to videotape it.
Now I can assure you that if my child were as funny as David, I would absolutely tape it. And if the tape turned out as funny as David's, I would probably share it on YouTube... unless I sent it in to America's Funniest Home Videos to try to profit. David's father was criticized for posting the video by people who, I figure: 1. Don't have kids, 2. Have no sense of humor, or 3. Have never had their perceptions chemically altered.

Five months later, Bill O'Reilly jumps on the bandwagon and decides to call out David's father for exploiting his own child. O'Reilly compares him to a mother who videotaped herself exhaling marijuana smoke into her infant's face. (That mother was charged with a criem, and lost custody of her baby.)
O'Reilly thought David's video was in such bad taste that he has shown it twice now, in its entirety, on his show. To shame David's father. For being exploitative.

Today, David's father, who is also named David, was on the show, to defend himself. He was normal, rational, and even-tempered. When O'Reilly warned him to "be careful what you put on on tape" because they could come back to haunt his kid later in life, David took the high road, and did not mention the "falafel" tape that O Reilly made. Or the "We'll do it live" tape that O'Reilly made. This guy is my new hero.

Thumbs up to you, David DeVore.

suggested by Victorian Furnishings

"How have your writing skills changed since you started blogging?"

Well, Victorian Furnishings, it's funny you should ask. I was asking myself the same question in the shower just the other day.
I don't think they have improved much. When I started this project 2 months ago, I guess I figured that by now I would be able to sit down at the computer, think of something important to share with the world, bang on the keyboard for 10 or 20 minutes, publish and go on with my day. How wrong I was.

What I have learned is that blogging is different then writing. A good blog has more quantity than quality. Bloggers don't have time for a bunch of re-writes and edits. They need to move onto the next thing. Finding good content on a blog is like finding the proverbial diamond in the rough.

Writing, on the other hand, I have discovered, is a craft. For instance- a writer would make that sentence: On the other hand, I have discovered that writing is a craft.
I think I would like to take a writing class.

Here comes The Sun

I was recently introduced to The Sun magazine by my friend Kathleen. I don't know why I hadn't heard of it before, Kathleen and I were raised in the same town and had a lot of the same interests- I can only assume that she discovered it as an adult as well, other wise I am sure she would have told me about it when we were younger.

I have been wondering if everyone else already knows about The Sun, and I am one of the last people to find out about it. In case I am not, I am taking Kathleen's introduction and paying it forward.

The Sun is a small magazine, published monthly since 1974. Each issue contains one or two large non-fiction articles, a fictional story or two, and an assortment of essays, memoirs, and poetry, as well as stunning photographs. There is no writing or photgraphy staff, all material is contributed. Sometimes the contributors are professional writers or photographers, but more often, they hold "day jobs."



One of my favorite sections in The Sun is the "Readers Write" section. Just as the title suggests, this is the section wherein readers can send in submissions for publication. The Sun gives readers a general theme which are "intentionally broad to leave room for expression", and readers submit their true stories. These stories are funny, heartbreaking, poignant and fulfilling.

The last page of the magazine is left for quotations relating to the magazine's monthly theme. Remember my post about goals? That post is one that really bothers me, because I don't think I said what I meant to say. I found what I meant to say on the last page of The Sun:

The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase; if you pursue happiness you'll never find it. - C.P. Snow

Like my other favorite media, NPR, The Sun has no advertisements. It is subscription supported. I can think of worse ways to spend $36.00. Friends of the Sun, or subscribers who give an additional gift, subsidize free subscriptions for prisons, libraries and community colleges.

The Sun says it is "Personal. Political. Provocative. Ad Free." And I say: It's alright.

Apache!

Here I sit with less than five hours left in this day, and I still have not thought of anything funny, important, profound, or pot-related to post.

I did my usual search of CNN, my local paper, listened to the radio, and FARK. Nothing.
I did find a link to this video on FARK, which is hilarious. It's a real music video from the early 70s, and there isn't anything I can say about it that it doesn't say for itself. But it did bring a few things to mind.

I was momentarily surprised that the bikini girls didn't have implants. I've been conditioned to expect ginormous knockers, I guess.

Also, what happened to the jumpsuit? Pants attached to a shirt was a terrific idea! One garment... no worries about matching your top to your bottom. I always wondered why it was called a "jumpsuit"... was it because you could "jump" into it? Or when you wore it, you wanted to jump? I know that in the 70s, I had more than my fair share of jumpsuits. And pinafores.