Mine was a very protected upbringing. I grew up in the suburbs, went to school with a ton of kids who had very similar backgrounds and attended church every Sunday.
I experienced schoolgirl crushes, listened with rapt attention to the weekly rock and roll countdown on the radio and watched all the prime time programs I could.
In the summer, I played outside until the street lights came on, rode my bike all over the place and made up games to relieve boredom.
Then came high school. And the bullying.
Every nail that sticks up gets knocked down, and I was no exception. First, it was the clothes my mom made me that incited ridicule. I soon learned to modify or eliminate certain items in my wardrobe, but I couldn't bring myself to tell my mom what was going on. My sister finally did. Mom, bless her, got a few new patterns and started to sew bell bottoms in material I picked out, and that helped.
Then I stuck my head up again.
In an expression of individuality (or weirdness), I latched onto the idea of making caps. Using leftover material (and some that I purchased from the fabric store), I made several and wore them to school. Some of the kids thought they were cool. Then came the note from one of my classmates.
"We don't want you to sit at our lunch table anymore. You're scaring away the boys with your clothes."
I was crushed. I didn't yet possess the emotional security to tell them to go screw themselves. I simply sat by myself for awhile until I found a new group of kids who welcomed me into their fold.
Even more distressing was that about this time my friend, Carolyn, abandoned me, too. She and I had been inseparable in junior high school. She told me I was immature.
I gave up. I spent the remainder of my high school years so desperately quiet that most of my classmates forgot I was there. I never went to a prom. I hated school so much that I never entertained the possibility of attending college. The only thing I loved about that time was working in the print shop in my senior year.
There has been a lot of attention paid to bullying, and that's a good thing. Although telling kids not to bully doesn't work. Giving the bullied kids the tools to deal with their tormentors is better. Exposing the bullies for what they are to take away their power is the best.
If only we could do that to a certain Republican presidential candidate.
Saturday, March 5, 2016
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Getting Testy
Well, once again they’ve changed the way schools measure the
success of their students.
The headline in yesterday’s paper lamented the drop in
scores for the educational institutions in our state.
Once upon a time, the Iowa Test of Basic Skills was the only
game in town. It was supposed to give you an idea of the areas in which you
excelled. (Or didn’t.) The test didn’t really count for anything. It was just a
guide of your standing in the pupil pool. Me being the worrywart that I am, I
would fret if one area or another dipped on the graphic summary. Usually, it
was science where I lagged behind.
Fortunately, no one other than perhaps the school board paid
much heed to these tests, and the results were soon forgotten.
Today, there is a lot of controversy associated with
standardized testing. Teachers must now prepare their students to pass a
nebulous test, rather than preparing them for life. So, facts are memorized and young brains are stuffed with
knowledge that is soon forgotten.
And the cashiers at the grocery store still can’t figure out
how to add $30 to the total when I want cash back.
I look out my window and wonder what kind of world the next
generation will shape. Will they rely on technology and social media to do
their thinking for them? Or will the pendulum swing the other way, and our
children’s children question authority and think for themselves?
And, more importantly, who will teach them how?
Saturday, February 20, 2016
Modern Conveniences
My grandmother used to have an old wringer-washer machine in her basement. It was a large porcelain number with a series of roll bars at the top. You washed your clothes in the tub and then put them through the rollers to remove as much of the water as possible. Then you hung your clothes outside to dry (in the summer) or in the basement (in the winter).
The advent of the modern washing machine must have been nirvana.
I was hanging in my kitchen this morning, waiting for my breakfast to emerge from the microwave, and nodding in appreciation to my appliances. But not the dishwasher.
Our dishwater came with the house. We were warned by the prior owners not to use it, and we haven't. It's a built-in number, so removing it would leave a gap-toothed space between our cupboards. And, for whatever reason, we've never purchased a new one. Maybe because it's only been the three of us, and it takes a couple of days to accumulate enough to justify running the thing. Also, I'm not sure how much labor it saves. You still have to rinse the dishes and put them in, then take them out and put them away. Mr. Ginley, who is primary dishwasher, has wondered aloud now and then if a dishwasher might not be nice. But we've never gotten beyond that point.
Of course, we do have the other standard modern conveniences. Although, I do question how labor-saving some of them really are.
The washer and dryer, definitely. The refrigerator, undoubtedly. The stove, sure. But the jury is out on the microwave. Sure, it cooks things lickety split, but I still do most of my cooking in a conventional oven. It's nice to wave butter to melt it or nuke leftovers, and it saves time in clean-up by using one dish and no pot. Still, if someone said I could have just one appliance in my kitchen, the microwave would not be it.
It's also occurred to me that we haven't progressed all that far with time-saving technology. We have cell phones that are certainly convenient, but we spend a hell of a lot more time on them than our parents did on their phones. And a good chunk of that time is not spent actually talking. To real, live people.
And, yes, we have computers and modern office equipment. I will concede they've certainly been helpful in the workplace. I was never a fan of typewriters when it came to correction fluid, and carbon paper was nasty stuff. But the expectations have also changed. Back in the day, for example, advertising layouts were done by hand, and folks had to visualize how the completed project would look. Now, a host of critics can change colors and layouts and copy, over and over and over, right down to the wire.
So the question becomes, have we saved any labor or merely displaced it?
Gadgets can be a wonderful thing. And I enjoy my Kindle as much as anyone. But there are days when I ponder how we would get by if we couldn't be on the grid. It's easier to imagine this during power outages, but it's harder to fathom how we'd manage without cell phones and the internet.
I mean, how would I publish this blog? Now that would be tragic. ;)
 |
| This lovely appliance (whatever it is) lives in our basement. |
The advent of the modern washing machine must have been nirvana.
I was hanging in my kitchen this morning, waiting for my breakfast to emerge from the microwave, and nodding in appreciation to my appliances. But not the dishwasher.
Our dishwater came with the house. We were warned by the prior owners not to use it, and we haven't. It's a built-in number, so removing it would leave a gap-toothed space between our cupboards. And, for whatever reason, we've never purchased a new one. Maybe because it's only been the three of us, and it takes a couple of days to accumulate enough to justify running the thing. Also, I'm not sure how much labor it saves. You still have to rinse the dishes and put them in, then take them out and put them away. Mr. Ginley, who is primary dishwasher, has wondered aloud now and then if a dishwasher might not be nice. But we've never gotten beyond that point.
Of course, we do have the other standard modern conveniences. Although, I do question how labor-saving some of them really are.
The washer and dryer, definitely. The refrigerator, undoubtedly. The stove, sure. But the jury is out on the microwave. Sure, it cooks things lickety split, but I still do most of my cooking in a conventional oven. It's nice to wave butter to melt it or nuke leftovers, and it saves time in clean-up by using one dish and no pot. Still, if someone said I could have just one appliance in my kitchen, the microwave would not be it.
It's also occurred to me that we haven't progressed all that far with time-saving technology. We have cell phones that are certainly convenient, but we spend a hell of a lot more time on them than our parents did on their phones. And a good chunk of that time is not spent actually talking. To real, live people.
And, yes, we have computers and modern office equipment. I will concede they've certainly been helpful in the workplace. I was never a fan of typewriters when it came to correction fluid, and carbon paper was nasty stuff. But the expectations have also changed. Back in the day, for example, advertising layouts were done by hand, and folks had to visualize how the completed project would look. Now, a host of critics can change colors and layouts and copy, over and over and over, right down to the wire.
So the question becomes, have we saved any labor or merely displaced it?
Gadgets can be a wonderful thing. And I enjoy my Kindle as much as anyone. But there are days when I ponder how we would get by if we couldn't be on the grid. It's easier to imagine this during power outages, but it's harder to fathom how we'd manage without cell phones and the internet.
I mean, how would I publish this blog? Now that would be tragic. ;)
Saturday, February 13, 2016
The Movement, Stalled
I've been reading Nora Ephron's book, Crazy Salad, a series of essays about women written in the early 1970s.
The experiences she's had resonate with me, although they are slightly ahead of my time. I was raised by a woman who held traditional beliefs about marriage, family and faith. My mom, like the majority of women in her generation, quit work at some point in her first pregnancy and stayed home to raise her children and keep the home fires burning. She was so good at this, I wanted desperately to follow in her footsteps.
At the tender age of 20, I married a man I believed with all my heart was my life partner. There are some 20-year-olds who are lucky enough to be right about this. I was not one of them. In three years, my marriage was toast, and I realized that I was more like my dad than my mom. I was not cut out to be a housewife and raise a passel of children.
Instead, I threw myself into my job. I decided I wasn't going to have any children.
Fortunately, I made this decision at a time when it was becoming fashionable to do so. The women's movement had been gaining momentum, and suddenly it wasn't expected that women stay home. Day care centers popped up. The tide turned. It became more of the norm for women to work outside the home.
Of course, tides being what they are, they turned again, and it is now considered a luxury to be able to afford to stay home with your children.
One wonders what progress, if any, the women's movement has made in the last 40+ years. It's a sort of "two steps forward, one step back" scenario.
One the one hand, we have a woman running for president. But she is called out for ridiculous things her male counterparts would never be.
Women are far more prevalent in the workplace, but often are still not making the same money as the men who hold the same positions.
And, probably worst of all, if you follow Facebook, which is a fairly realistic microcosm of our society, women are still sniping each other based on their choices. Which is what the women's movement is supposed to be about. The right of each individual woman to choose how she wants to live her life, whether she stays home with her kids, is a working mom or decides not to have any children...whether she marries a man or a woman or remains unattached.
That's the goal here. The ability to make choices without getting crap from women who chose something else.
As most of you reading this know, I went on to marry again. And I had a child. At one point in my pregnancy, Mr. Ginley and I sat down and had a discussion about who was going to take care of the baby. He stepped up and said he would stay home while I worked. He is a wonderful dad, and most folks would agree our now-college-age son has turned out pretty well. But my husband took a lot of flak about being "Mr. Mom." The thing that frosted me was many of the snide comments he got were from women who should have known better.
And so it goes. Maybe the women's movement is not just about choices for women. Maybe it's about men and women choosing their roles, deciding what works best for them.
If we all look at it from that perspective, how can anyone be against equal rights? Having asked the question, of course, I know how. Too many people believe their rights are more important than the rights of others, because the others are a different gender or race.
I have no idea how to wrap this up. There are no quick answers. And people have been the same since the beginning of time.
Maybe the only thing to do is sigh. Walk away from the keyboard. And have a little chocolate to console myself.
There are some Malley's chocolate hearts around here somewhere...
The experiences she's had resonate with me, although they are slightly ahead of my time. I was raised by a woman who held traditional beliefs about marriage, family and faith. My mom, like the majority of women in her generation, quit work at some point in her first pregnancy and stayed home to raise her children and keep the home fires burning. She was so good at this, I wanted desperately to follow in her footsteps.
At the tender age of 20, I married a man I believed with all my heart was my life partner. There are some 20-year-olds who are lucky enough to be right about this. I was not one of them. In three years, my marriage was toast, and I realized that I was more like my dad than my mom. I was not cut out to be a housewife and raise a passel of children.
Instead, I threw myself into my job. I decided I wasn't going to have any children.
Fortunately, I made this decision at a time when it was becoming fashionable to do so. The women's movement had been gaining momentum, and suddenly it wasn't expected that women stay home. Day care centers popped up. The tide turned. It became more of the norm for women to work outside the home.
Of course, tides being what they are, they turned again, and it is now considered a luxury to be able to afford to stay home with your children.
One wonders what progress, if any, the women's movement has made in the last 40+ years. It's a sort of "two steps forward, one step back" scenario.
One the one hand, we have a woman running for president. But she is called out for ridiculous things her male counterparts would never be.
Women are far more prevalent in the workplace, but often are still not making the same money as the men who hold the same positions.
And, probably worst of all, if you follow Facebook, which is a fairly realistic microcosm of our society, women are still sniping each other based on their choices. Which is what the women's movement is supposed to be about. The right of each individual woman to choose how she wants to live her life, whether she stays home with her kids, is a working mom or decides not to have any children...whether she marries a man or a woman or remains unattached.
That's the goal here. The ability to make choices without getting crap from women who chose something else.
As most of you reading this know, I went on to marry again. And I had a child. At one point in my pregnancy, Mr. Ginley and I sat down and had a discussion about who was going to take care of the baby. He stepped up and said he would stay home while I worked. He is a wonderful dad, and most folks would agree our now-college-age son has turned out pretty well. But my husband took a lot of flak about being "Mr. Mom." The thing that frosted me was many of the snide comments he got were from women who should have known better.
And so it goes. Maybe the women's movement is not just about choices for women. Maybe it's about men and women choosing their roles, deciding what works best for them.
If we all look at it from that perspective, how can anyone be against equal rights? Having asked the question, of course, I know how. Too many people believe their rights are more important than the rights of others, because the others are a different gender or race.
I have no idea how to wrap this up. There are no quick answers. And people have been the same since the beginning of time.
Maybe the only thing to do is sigh. Walk away from the keyboard. And have a little chocolate to console myself.
There are some Malley's chocolate hearts around here somewhere...
Saturday, February 6, 2016
Overloading the Circuits
Here is a typical conversation at our home:
Mr. Ginley: "Have you seen the letter opener?"
Me: "I haven't touched your letter opener."
Mr. Ginley: "I know you don't use it, but have you seen it?"
Me: "No. Try looking for something else, and you'll find it."
This happens frequently, with one or the other of us in search of some minor household item that has gone astray.
Often, it only takes a moment. I start to head out the door, for example, and I set down my keys. After completing the task that distracted me, I pick up my purse and realize my keys are now gone. I retrace my steps and find that, against all logic, I left them in the freezer when I pulled out the package of hamburger for dinner.
One of the most common items to go missing is my phone. I can't give you a precise number of the times I've asked my husband or son to call me so I can follow the ringing to its hiding place. Of course, this is a fine trick for phones, which are able to tell you where they are, but for most things, there's usually some tearing out of hair that occurs before the object is located.
Young people will smirk and tell you that it's an age thing. But I've witnessed enough episodes with my 20-something son to know it's not.
I choose to believe it's because there's so much going on in my cranium, I've become absent-minded about the trivial stuff. The trouble is, sometimes the trivial becomes not so trivial. For example, if I've got something in the oven and I turn off the timer because it's almost but not quite done, then I walk away, and before I know it, it's too far beyond done.
Or when I go to get something out of the refrigerator that I'm absolutely positive I purchased at the grocery store, only to discover it in the trunk of my car, where it's been sitting for two days in 80 degree heat.
There's an old Disney movie called The Absent-Minded Professor. Fred MacMurray invents Flubber, but he forgets to show up for his own wedding. I feel like that some days. Except, of course, I'm not responsible for discovering anything that will rock the world.
I think I need a plan. Maybe I'll start wearing clothes that have big pockets so I can carry all of the essentials with me. Or pin notes to myself. And get clips for my gloves so I can attach them to my coat, the way my mom did when I was little. I could start to carry a timer with me so I don't lose track of time (although I'd probably forget why I set the timer in the first place).
Or maybe I just need to be more mindful. Hmm. That's probably the best idea of all. I think I'll write that down.
Now, where did I leave my pen...
Me: "I haven't touched your letter opener."
Mr. Ginley: "I know you don't use it, but have you seen it?"
Me: "No. Try looking for something else, and you'll find it."
This happens frequently, with one or the other of us in search of some minor household item that has gone astray.
Often, it only takes a moment. I start to head out the door, for example, and I set down my keys. After completing the task that distracted me, I pick up my purse and realize my keys are now gone. I retrace my steps and find that, against all logic, I left them in the freezer when I pulled out the package of hamburger for dinner.
One of the most common items to go missing is my phone. I can't give you a precise number of the times I've asked my husband or son to call me so I can follow the ringing to its hiding place. Of course, this is a fine trick for phones, which are able to tell you where they are, but for most things, there's usually some tearing out of hair that occurs before the object is located.
Young people will smirk and tell you that it's an age thing. But I've witnessed enough episodes with my 20-something son to know it's not.
I choose to believe it's because there's so much going on in my cranium, I've become absent-minded about the trivial stuff. The trouble is, sometimes the trivial becomes not so trivial. For example, if I've got something in the oven and I turn off the timer because it's almost but not quite done, then I walk away, and before I know it, it's too far beyond done.
Or when I go to get something out of the refrigerator that I'm absolutely positive I purchased at the grocery store, only to discover it in the trunk of my car, where it's been sitting for two days in 80 degree heat.
There's an old Disney movie called The Absent-Minded Professor. Fred MacMurray invents Flubber, but he forgets to show up for his own wedding. I feel like that some days. Except, of course, I'm not responsible for discovering anything that will rock the world.
I think I need a plan. Maybe I'll start wearing clothes that have big pockets so I can carry all of the essentials with me. Or pin notes to myself. And get clips for my gloves so I can attach them to my coat, the way my mom did when I was little. I could start to carry a timer with me so I don't lose track of time (although I'd probably forget why I set the timer in the first place).
Or maybe I just need to be more mindful. Hmm. That's probably the best idea of all. I think I'll write that down.
Now, where did I leave my pen...
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Random Yearnings
Sometimes when I'm feeling low, I take a toodle through my Facebook page.
Occasionally, I'll come across a group photo of people I've never met but who look intriguing. And I give the folks depicted in the photo a personality. They are uber-cool, generous with their smiles and laughter, kind-hearted, old souls one and all.
I fantasize we're sitting at a table talking and laughing. We each order something different from the menu and compare. Maybe even sample each other's meals. Then witty banter ensues. I am particularly amusing, and my dinner companions chortle appreciatively.
For dessert, we go decadent. Chocolate mousse. Or tiramisu. We all groan with contentment. As we sip our coffees and our cognacs, they share stories about their latest adventures. Antiquing in New York. A romp through small towns and unusual places in the Northwest. A retreat-style weekend in Santa Fe. I sit back and watch in wonder, trying to drink in every moment. Thirsty to burn each detail into my brain.
The evening winds down, we embrace and make plans for our next get-together.
And I am warm with the memories I've never had.
Later, it occurs to me that I've drawn on the people in my life to create the personalities of those in the photo. Maybe what I really wish is that I could gather all of them together at a table, those living and those passed, and enjoy one hell of a banquet.
Now, that would be something.
Occasionally, I'll come across a group photo of people I've never met but who look intriguing. And I give the folks depicted in the photo a personality. They are uber-cool, generous with their smiles and laughter, kind-hearted, old souls one and all.
I fantasize we're sitting at a table talking and laughing. We each order something different from the menu and compare. Maybe even sample each other's meals. Then witty banter ensues. I am particularly amusing, and my dinner companions chortle appreciatively.
For dessert, we go decadent. Chocolate mousse. Or tiramisu. We all groan with contentment. As we sip our coffees and our cognacs, they share stories about their latest adventures. Antiquing in New York. A romp through small towns and unusual places in the Northwest. A retreat-style weekend in Santa Fe. I sit back and watch in wonder, trying to drink in every moment. Thirsty to burn each detail into my brain.
The evening winds down, we embrace and make plans for our next get-together.
And I am warm with the memories I've never had.
Later, it occurs to me that I've drawn on the people in my life to create the personalities of those in the photo. Maybe what I really wish is that I could gather all of them together at a table, those living and those passed, and enjoy one hell of a banquet.
Now, that would be something.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
My Beautiful Winter Staycation
I decided sometime in December that it was time for me to bite the bullet and take an entire week of vacation. I reserved the dates -- January 18-22 -- and made a plan for how to spend my time off.
There were rules. And a bucket list. Now it's time to look back and see how I did.
1. Sleep in Every Day
Technically, 7:15 IS sleeping in, since I'm usually up between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. every morning.
2. See the new Star Wars movie
Mission accomplished. You have all probably seen it by now. We wanted to wait until the crowd had died down, which we also accomplished, since there were only two other people in the theater. Like most movies with a lot of hoo-ha surrounding them, I went in a skeptic and came out a skeptic. It was entertaining, but I didn't think it was much different from the original Star Wars movie. (Mr. Ginley used the word "derivative" a lot.)
3. Return Joe to School and Visit Half Price Books
This became a two-parter. We took the lad back on Monday, but the weather was so crappy, we dropped him off and came right back. We returned Friday to shop at HPB and took Joe to lunch. He bought himself a real suit (not off the rack), and we took him to pick it up. Grey pinstripe. Very nice.
4. Watch Lots of Old Movies
I watched The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. There are still two days left, and I'm planning on watching another before the end of my vacation. The hard part is deciding which one. We've also been watching a lot of Johnny Carson. One of the networks has been showing the old Tonight shows in their entirety (mostly).
5. Avoid Checking Work Email or Calling In
This morning, for the first time since I walked out of work, I took a look-see at my work email. There are 450 emails waiting for me. They can wait a little longer. I didn't hear a peep from my peeps at work. Except I did ask Steph yesterday if everything was okay, and she said it was "quiet." Maybe that's cheating, I'm not sure.
6. Spend One Day at Home Hunkering Down
Tuesday was it. We didn't budge. The snow swirled, the wind howled, and we were snug as bugs inside.
7. Watch Some Old TV Shows
I didn't know the Brady Bunch and Petticoat Junction were on early in the morning. Columbo, too. I had this weird memory of when I wanted to be just like Betty Jo, married to a hunk like Steve, with a beautiful baby and the support of the entire Hooterville community. And they say girls today have unrealistic role models! The only trouble with watching these shows (aside from the fact that they are chopped up to cram in all of the extra commercials) is the advertisements. Apparently, the network thinks the only folks who watch these shows are octogenarians banging on death's door. There are ads galore for drugs that promise to heal just about anything (if they don't kill you), life insurance and incontinence pads.
8. Do a Little Sewing
This remains on my list. I did stitch up a pair of Joe's pants and mend a pillow, but I have miles to sew before I sleep.
9. Keep Active
I didn't want to be a total coach potato. So I did manage to work out most days. On the down side, I've been fighting a cold the whole time, which has worked itself into tonsilitis. I'm hoping it goes away this weekend.
10. Shut up About Not Taking an Entire Week Off
This is my gift to my co-workers. I've been like a broken record, saying I haven't taken off an entire week since 2007 when I went on the cruise. Now they are free of my refrain. I hope they enjoyed this week without me (and my rants). I promise to try and be better about my crabbing. (You'll notice I said "to try" and not simply "to be." That's my "Get Out of Jail Free" card.)
Who knew being away from work for a week could be so cathartic? And I had the power all along. I didn't even need the ruby slippers.
There's no place like home...
 | |
| Welcome to the Casa de Ginley |
There were rules. And a bucket list. Now it's time to look back and see how I did.
1. Sleep in Every Day
Technically, 7:15 IS sleeping in, since I'm usually up between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. every morning.
2. See the new Star Wars movie
Mission accomplished. You have all probably seen it by now. We wanted to wait until the crowd had died down, which we also accomplished, since there were only two other people in the theater. Like most movies with a lot of hoo-ha surrounding them, I went in a skeptic and came out a skeptic. It was entertaining, but I didn't think it was much different from the original Star Wars movie. (Mr. Ginley used the word "derivative" a lot.)
3. Return Joe to School and Visit Half Price Books
This became a two-parter. We took the lad back on Monday, but the weather was so crappy, we dropped him off and came right back. We returned Friday to shop at HPB and took Joe to lunch. He bought himself a real suit (not off the rack), and we took him to pick it up. Grey pinstripe. Very nice.
4. Watch Lots of Old Movies
I watched The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. There are still two days left, and I'm planning on watching another before the end of my vacation. The hard part is deciding which one. We've also been watching a lot of Johnny Carson. One of the networks has been showing the old Tonight shows in their entirety (mostly).
5. Avoid Checking Work Email or Calling In
This morning, for the first time since I walked out of work, I took a look-see at my work email. There are 450 emails waiting for me. They can wait a little longer. I didn't hear a peep from my peeps at work. Except I did ask Steph yesterday if everything was okay, and she said it was "quiet." Maybe that's cheating, I'm not sure.
6. Spend One Day at Home Hunkering Down
Tuesday was it. We didn't budge. The snow swirled, the wind howled, and we were snug as bugs inside.
7. Watch Some Old TV Shows
I didn't know the Brady Bunch and Petticoat Junction were on early in the morning. Columbo, too. I had this weird memory of when I wanted to be just like Betty Jo, married to a hunk like Steve, with a beautiful baby and the support of the entire Hooterville community. And they say girls today have unrealistic role models! The only trouble with watching these shows (aside from the fact that they are chopped up to cram in all of the extra commercials) is the advertisements. Apparently, the network thinks the only folks who watch these shows are octogenarians banging on death's door. There are ads galore for drugs that promise to heal just about anything (if they don't kill you), life insurance and incontinence pads.
8. Do a Little Sewing
This remains on my list. I did stitch up a pair of Joe's pants and mend a pillow, but I have miles to sew before I sleep.
9. Keep Active
I didn't want to be a total coach potato. So I did manage to work out most days. On the down side, I've been fighting a cold the whole time, which has worked itself into tonsilitis. I'm hoping it goes away this weekend.
10. Shut up About Not Taking an Entire Week Off
This is my gift to my co-workers. I've been like a broken record, saying I haven't taken off an entire week since 2007 when I went on the cruise. Now they are free of my refrain. I hope they enjoyed this week without me (and my rants). I promise to try and be better about my crabbing. (You'll notice I said "to try" and not simply "to be." That's my "Get Out of Jail Free" card.)
Who knew being away from work for a week could be so cathartic? And I had the power all along. I didn't even need the ruby slippers.
There's no place like home...
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