Yesterday's post didn't cover it.
Yesterday, I lost 8 minutes of productivity diagnosing a problem with the printer that turned out to be lack of paper in the tray I needed. Have you noticed a theme in this posts? Refill the freaking paper tray, people!
However, I'm as much to blame because I didn't use situational awareness in diagnosing. I know we have a paper problem at work. Checking the paper level should have been my first thought instead of my last. Alas, I'm an optimist. I keep hoping someone else will start doing it, too.
Unrealistic expectations are the cancer of the interpersonal relationship.
Situational awareness has two parts:
1) Notice what's going on around you at the moment. In college, I learned the phrase be here now, and it applies everywhere. Pay attention to work when you're at work. Think about what you have to do and how you're going to get it done quickly and correctly. The second is more important than the first, but that's kind of like saying love is more important than hope.
This is hard for lemmings. They're usually thinking about the next iPhone fix. Smokers are usually thinking about the next smoke break. Anal retentives are thinking about how far away the bathroom is. I get it. I was addicted to Farmville for six years. I feel your pain.
Screw your pain. Focus on your work. Yes, it's hard. So is being an adult, and adults have to work to earn money to live. Until we all become socialists, anyway. Then we will work so others can live and we can die of starvation and curable diseases that no longer have available treatment resources. Welcome to Utopia, Sunshine.
2) Think ahead about your work issues. When you know a certain problem is common, like being out of paper, think about how that may affect your current project (or the project coming up you'll need special paper for) and make sure you have paper before you start. If what you do affects other people, plan your day to make their day easier. Save yourself time and frustration and come out looking like a rock star to your boss.
Ex: you stock produce. People can't buy produce if it isn't stocked. Plan your work so that when the store opens, customers can buy produce and checkers can check them out. No produce = no checking = unhappy customers and co-workers.* If you fail to plan ahead this way, your day will be spent putting out fires you set instead of calmly acting like an expert produce stocker who, yes, just happens to have those fresh kiwis you're looking for, sir. Here you go. Have a great day.
In a perfect work environment, everyone looks for ways to do their job better, everyone plans ahead and communicates their needs, and everyone is considerate of everyone else's time. That's being professional.
I have never worked in a perfect environment. I just do what I can to make it as perfect as I can, and hope to lead by example.
Addendum: don't hack off your co-workers unnecessarily. You share space with these folks at least 40 hours a week, and they have the power to make your life hell. It's like arranged polygamy. Whenever possible, plan your day to make theirs easier, and your day will be easier as a result. No one enjoys working with a Incompetent Cranky Puss, and even lemmings appreciate thoughtfulness. Well, some of them do.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Marketable Skills: Initiative
I've had to move a number of cats off my desk chair lately. I should probably open the laptop.
I considered a post about situational awareness, but initiative may cover it.
Once you enter the work environment, you will find yourself surrounded by mouth-breathers: people who stand and stare with their mouths open and wait to be told what to do, even when they're supposed to be the expert. Such people should be ashamed to breathe at all, but, sadly, they are the majority. I have on numerous occasions (not generally in writing) referred to them as sheep, lemmings, or Sunshine.
These folks are both the bane and the backbone of the workforce. Not being one of them should make your promotion a certainty, unless your immediate supervisor also happens to be a mouth-breather. In that case, you are working to impress her boss, and replace her. I recommend practicing competent kindness with co-workers during your ascension and a benevolent dictatorship to prevent a stampede.
The main problem with those lacking initiative is their failure to act when action is required. Whether it's simple inattentiveness, fear of fill-in-the-blank, or contemptible laziness, they will not step up and do what needs doing when it needs to be done. This can be as small as refilling the paper tray or as serious as allowing a customer's issue to escalate to the point of needing a manager. Most "manager-requiring" problems can be solved with the kind but firm application of store policy, unless store policy is "find the manager." In those cases, I recommend finding another job, preferably the manager's so you can change store policy. That's a stupid policy, unless your entire workforce are sheep and completely untrainable.
TT: I've found behavioral conditioning quite effective. Of course, you can put an iguana on a piano, but that doesn't mean it can play.
Initiative first requires you to pay attention to your surroundings. Look for things that need doing, and then do them, whether or not "it's your job." Sometimes it's not your job because no one thought they had to tell you to do something so simple.
At first, it will be small things like getting extra pens out of Supply or answering a call to help check at the front when you normally stock produce, but it will escalate to writing directions for tasks that should have directions, proposing the implementation of rules to save time and/or money/ the removal of rules that hinder productivity, or creating a job for yourself out of things that have always needed doing but no one saw before (yes, I've done that repeatedly. It's wonderful). You are on the ground floor, and your attentiveness here can bring you to the attention of those above you, for good or ill.
Caveat: the reward for doing a hard job well is to receive a harder job to do, usually with no more pay. This is why is it imperative to do all you do for the Lord. Lack of reward here means bigger returns in Heaven. That's not greedy; it's Biblical (Matt 6).
Push button. Receive bacon.
I considered a post about situational awareness, but initiative may cover it.
Once you enter the work environment, you will find yourself surrounded by mouth-breathers: people who stand and stare with their mouths open and wait to be told what to do, even when they're supposed to be the expert. Such people should be ashamed to breathe at all, but, sadly, they are the majority. I have on numerous occasions (not generally in writing) referred to them as sheep, lemmings, or Sunshine.
These folks are both the bane and the backbone of the workforce. Not being one of them should make your promotion a certainty, unless your immediate supervisor also happens to be a mouth-breather. In that case, you are working to impress her boss, and replace her. I recommend practicing competent kindness with co-workers during your ascension and a benevolent dictatorship to prevent a stampede.
The main problem with those lacking initiative is their failure to act when action is required. Whether it's simple inattentiveness, fear of fill-in-the-blank, or contemptible laziness, they will not step up and do what needs doing when it needs to be done. This can be as small as refilling the paper tray or as serious as allowing a customer's issue to escalate to the point of needing a manager. Most "manager-requiring" problems can be solved with the kind but firm application of store policy, unless store policy is "find the manager." In those cases, I recommend finding another job, preferably the manager's so you can change store policy. That's a stupid policy, unless your entire workforce are sheep and completely untrainable.
TT: I've found behavioral conditioning quite effective. Of course, you can put an iguana on a piano, but that doesn't mean it can play.
Initiative first requires you to pay attention to your surroundings. Look for things that need doing, and then do them, whether or not "it's your job." Sometimes it's not your job because no one thought they had to tell you to do something so simple.
At first, it will be small things like getting extra pens out of Supply or answering a call to help check at the front when you normally stock produce, but it will escalate to writing directions for tasks that should have directions, proposing the implementation of rules to save time and/or money/ the removal of rules that hinder productivity, or creating a job for yourself out of things that have always needed doing but no one saw before (yes, I've done that repeatedly. It's wonderful). You are on the ground floor, and your attentiveness here can bring you to the attention of those above you, for good or ill.
Caveat: the reward for doing a hard job well is to receive a harder job to do, usually with no more pay. This is why is it imperative to do all you do for the Lord. Lack of reward here means bigger returns in Heaven. That's not greedy; it's Biblical (Matt 6).
Push button. Receive bacon.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Checking In
Haven't had much to say lately, although I've been thinking a lot. Not much of it healthy.
I've been reading, too. Started with Anne McCaffrey's Crystal Singer trilogy, moved to Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Chronicles, and resumed reading HP Lovecraft to recover.
Lovecraft's The Case of Charles Dexter Ward is terrifying. Even if you haven't seen the B movie version The Resurrected with Chris Sarandon (for some unfathomable reason called Shatterbrain in the US) to provide horrific images to supplement Lovecraft's indescribable horrors, it's scary. Anything that takes place underground in the dark with open pits full of... well, it's scary. Enjoy.
This is Swamp Time for the Turtle, and I've been outside in earmuffs a lot. I'll be planting peas in another week and hoping for even better results than last year since I'll be planting them in spaces previously occupied by peas. Seems peas like being where other peas have been.
I cut through a clematis by accident yesterday, and had to take some time out for self-loathing and a bit of ranting. It's a young clematis and will no doubt come back just fine, but it was already budding, so I've delayed flowers by two months at least. Even seasoned gardeners screw up massively and hate themselves for it.
I've been going over my budget obsessively as I examine and reexamine how quickly I can pay off the mortgage. My contract says no penalty for early payoff. I doubt that's a standard clause, since everything I've read says it has to be in the contract to be true. I don't know if I was smart enough to put that in, my realtor was smart enough to insist on it, or God covered me.
The busy season is gearing up at work. I have plans to keep it under control, but life keeps getting in the way of my plans. Doesn't matter. The Turtle can teach rocks stubbornness. I will not be thwarted.
That's about it. Since I downgraded cable, I'm staying off Facebook more to avoid TWD spoilers. And politics. And general mass stupidity. The groupthink is getting painful out there.
Push button. Receive bacon.
I've been reading, too. Started with Anne McCaffrey's Crystal Singer trilogy, moved to Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Chronicles, and resumed reading HP Lovecraft to recover.
Lovecraft's The Case of Charles Dexter Ward is terrifying. Even if you haven't seen the B movie version The Resurrected with Chris Sarandon (for some unfathomable reason called Shatterbrain in the US) to provide horrific images to supplement Lovecraft's indescribable horrors, it's scary. Anything that takes place underground in the dark with open pits full of... well, it's scary. Enjoy.
This is Swamp Time for the Turtle, and I've been outside in earmuffs a lot. I'll be planting peas in another week and hoping for even better results than last year since I'll be planting them in spaces previously occupied by peas. Seems peas like being where other peas have been.
I cut through a clematis by accident yesterday, and had to take some time out for self-loathing and a bit of ranting. It's a young clematis and will no doubt come back just fine, but it was already budding, so I've delayed flowers by two months at least. Even seasoned gardeners screw up massively and hate themselves for it.
I've been going over my budget obsessively as I examine and reexamine how quickly I can pay off the mortgage. My contract says no penalty for early payoff. I doubt that's a standard clause, since everything I've read says it has to be in the contract to be true. I don't know if I was smart enough to put that in, my realtor was smart enough to insist on it, or God covered me.
The busy season is gearing up at work. I have plans to keep it under control, but life keeps getting in the way of my plans. Doesn't matter. The Turtle can teach rocks stubbornness. I will not be thwarted.
That's about it. Since I downgraded cable, I'm staying off Facebook more to avoid TWD spoilers. And politics. And general mass stupidity. The groupthink is getting painful out there.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Marketable Skills: Courtesy
I'm not talking about the yes, sir and no, ma'am practiced at your custody hearings. I mean actual courtesy.
Please and thank you do top the list. How hard is it to add please, and say thank you? Olympic gold medal hard, if a visit to Walmart is any indicator. Start at home, and practice with your pets. Say please when you call them to dinner and thank you when they come inside after doing their business. The animals won't mind, and it will become habit for you. Using those words regularly and without sarcasm softens both your voice and manner. While you're at it, try to mean the words. People know genuine courtesy when they hear it.
Think of others. You're not the only person who uses paper, so make the time to refill it, or any other supply you notice may be lacking. No, you don't always have the time right then, but do it when you do. God will notice, even if no one else does. Hold the door for the person behind you, man or woman. Nothing in your silly life can't wait 2 minutes. Help the person at the grocery store reach the top shelf. That's why God made you tall.
Make requests, not demands. Rarely do you have the authority to order another human to do something, unless you're a drill sergeant. You can ask them to do something, and if you ask nicely, and it isn't a ridiculous request, they're likely to do it. You're the same way; you know you are. We all like to be asked, not ordered.
Open your mouth when you speak. Your words are important. Don't mutter them. Don't garble them. Enunciate. Mumbling is dragging your mouth the way shuffling is dragging your feet. Both are lazy and discourteous. Don't do it if you are physically capable of doing otherwise. Most of you lemmings are, if you'll put your phones down long enough to let a thought form.
Do unto others as you would have them do to you. That actually is in the Bible: Matt 7:12, unlike many of those pithy proverbs Grandma chirped at us like "God helps those who help themselves" (patently false) and "Cleanliness is next to Godliness" (you made that up). The Golden Rule is about courtesy. The world isn't here to serve you. Quite the reverse, Jesus would say, so be polite in your service.
Courtesy dovetails nicely with calm. Practicing genuine courtesy while remaining calm is a combo that will fast-track you to management.
Caveat: courtesy alone isn't worth much. The incompetent can please and thank me to death and fail to solve my problem, which leaves them in the dust as I seek satisfaction elsewhere. Competence has a higher XP, but without courtesy, competence leaves customers cold.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Please and thank you do top the list. How hard is it to add please, and say thank you? Olympic gold medal hard, if a visit to Walmart is any indicator. Start at home, and practice with your pets. Say please when you call them to dinner and thank you when they come inside after doing their business. The animals won't mind, and it will become habit for you. Using those words regularly and without sarcasm softens both your voice and manner. While you're at it, try to mean the words. People know genuine courtesy when they hear it.
Think of others. You're not the only person who uses paper, so make the time to refill it, or any other supply you notice may be lacking. No, you don't always have the time right then, but do it when you do. God will notice, even if no one else does. Hold the door for the person behind you, man or woman. Nothing in your silly life can't wait 2 minutes. Help the person at the grocery store reach the top shelf. That's why God made you tall.
Make requests, not demands. Rarely do you have the authority to order another human to do something, unless you're a drill sergeant. You can ask them to do something, and if you ask nicely, and it isn't a ridiculous request, they're likely to do it. You're the same way; you know you are. We all like to be asked, not ordered.
Open your mouth when you speak. Your words are important. Don't mutter them. Don't garble them. Enunciate. Mumbling is dragging your mouth the way shuffling is dragging your feet. Both are lazy and discourteous. Don't do it if you are physically capable of doing otherwise. Most of you lemmings are, if you'll put your phones down long enough to let a thought form.
Do unto others as you would have them do to you. That actually is in the Bible: Matt 7:12, unlike many of those pithy proverbs Grandma chirped at us like "God helps those who help themselves" (patently false) and "Cleanliness is next to Godliness" (you made that up). The Golden Rule is about courtesy. The world isn't here to serve you. Quite the reverse, Jesus would say, so be polite in your service.
Courtesy dovetails nicely with calm. Practicing genuine courtesy while remaining calm is a combo that will fast-track you to management.
Caveat: courtesy alone isn't worth much. The incompetent can please and thank me to death and fail to solve my problem, which leaves them in the dust as I seek satisfaction elsewhere. Competence has a higher XP, but without courtesy, competence leaves customers cold.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Monday, February 15, 2016
Marketable Skills: Calm
We live in a society of drama queens. No task is too small to bemoan, no slight too slight to take offense. When you work in the world of customer service, and let's face it, all work except politics is customer service, one of your best skills is remaining calm.
Customers show up with all manner of baggage. Their particular problem with your company at that moment is just the tip of the iceberg, and if you are not careful, you may collide with a lifetime of therapy-deserving issues with a single sentence. When this happens, remain calm.
1) Focus on the immediate problem. Ask questions, slowly and carefully, and listen to the answers. Bring all your knowledge of how your company works into the situation. How did this situation come about? This moment is not about assigning blame. Some customers will begin with it's all the company's fault; some begin with apologies for how they screwed up: neither is relevant. Your goal is to correctly identify the problem and solve it, not assign blame.
2) Slow down. Angry and anxious people speed up. Their voices rise in pitch and volume. The words pour out of them because they expect an argument, and they've geared up for the fight. You're not going to fight with them. You don't have to. You're going to calmly diagnose the problem and present them with their options. Sometimes this means letting them vent a bit, but even that works for you. Once a customer feels they have been heard, they start to calm down, too. Keep your voice level and slow. Not insultingly slow, but normal slow. If you keep your cool, the customer will join you in the Land of Calm.
3) Be genuine. When you begin practicing this skill, and you will practice it every day you live, it will feel false. You don't want to be calm when someone yells at you. You want to either yell back or slam the phone down and hide in the bathroom. You will not do either. You will breathe deeply, focus more on them than yourself, and solve the problem. You may get thanked, you may not, but you will keep your job and probably rise to manager rather quickly, because this skill is rare indeed among the Commonwealth.
One caveat. You also have baggage, and that will come into play with some customers. When your usual calm slips, it may be your own issues being triggered. Hopefully, you will be able to tag-team those cases without prejudice because of your stellar service record. However, if it happens with every phone call, I recommend real therapy and possibly a job change. You have issues.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Customers show up with all manner of baggage. Their particular problem with your company at that moment is just the tip of the iceberg, and if you are not careful, you may collide with a lifetime of therapy-deserving issues with a single sentence. When this happens, remain calm.
1) Focus on the immediate problem. Ask questions, slowly and carefully, and listen to the answers. Bring all your knowledge of how your company works into the situation. How did this situation come about? This moment is not about assigning blame. Some customers will begin with it's all the company's fault; some begin with apologies for how they screwed up: neither is relevant. Your goal is to correctly identify the problem and solve it, not assign blame.
2) Slow down. Angry and anxious people speed up. Their voices rise in pitch and volume. The words pour out of them because they expect an argument, and they've geared up for the fight. You're not going to fight with them. You don't have to. You're going to calmly diagnose the problem and present them with their options. Sometimes this means letting them vent a bit, but even that works for you. Once a customer feels they have been heard, they start to calm down, too. Keep your voice level and slow. Not insultingly slow, but normal slow. If you keep your cool, the customer will join you in the Land of Calm.
3) Be genuine. When you begin practicing this skill, and you will practice it every day you live, it will feel false. You don't want to be calm when someone yells at you. You want to either yell back or slam the phone down and hide in the bathroom. You will not do either. You will breathe deeply, focus more on them than yourself, and solve the problem. You may get thanked, you may not, but you will keep your job and probably rise to manager rather quickly, because this skill is rare indeed among the Commonwealth.
One caveat. You also have baggage, and that will come into play with some customers. When your usual calm slips, it may be your own issues being triggered. Hopefully, you will be able to tag-team those cases without prejudice because of your stellar service record. However, if it happens with every phone call, I recommend real therapy and possibly a job change. You have issues.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Friday, February 12, 2016
Marketable Skills: Attitude
Imagine for a moment you're self-employed. Don't get too cocky. As the saying goes, the self-employed soon learn he works for a jackass.
However, to one extent or another, everyone is self-employed. You are your own manager. You decide how you spend your time at work. You choose to be industrious, cheerful and competent, or you choose to be slovenly, recalcitrant and vicious. If you were your boss, which employee would you choose to keep?
The Duke's Handmaid beautifully illustrates the idea of the willing slave. Is it slavery if you choose it? I'm not saying be a slave, but I am saying attitude goes a long way in making drudgery into delight. Choosing to be happy, to do your best, to treat each day as a gift from God is hard. Some days I don't feel like it at all. However, I try to keep a few things in mind.
One, God made us to work. Before the Fall and the Curse, God put Adam and Eve in the garden to tend it. That's work. Our bodies are designed to move. Our brains designed to think. Work allows us to do both. It is a privilege to be healthy and mobile. I know a lot of Friends who aren't. I don't consider work something to do until I retire. Work is what I do. It gives me a reason to get up in the morning, and wears me out so I can sleep at night. Work makes me strong, and smart. Work gives me opportunities to glorify God in other peoples' lives. Work is a gift.
Two, I chose this job. I don't live in Russia, or China. The government doesn't yet assign me a job (although all you socialists out there are trying to change that, bless your brain-damaged little selves). If I hate my job so much I'm miserable day in and day out, I need to pour my energies into finding another job. Good heavens, people, stop hanging around a place you hate. Is your life really so miserable you don't know what's like to not be miserable? *shakes head* I guarantee a change in self is the only way you'll really solve your problems, but try another job if you're not up to that challenge.
Three, I have a job. There are lots and lots of folks out there right this minute who don't. They don't know where their next paycheck is coming from, or when. I am grateful that is not one of my problems. I have plenty of others.
Check your attitude. Christians, especially, since we have so many Biblical directives on this point. Is your daily work gratifying to your Master? Do you strive to do everything for his glory and in his service? You don't have to be a pastor to serve God, and your witness in a "normal" setting can have a huge impact on the unsaved.
I serve God first, but He likes it when I do a good job for my human bosses and co-workers. Love your neighbor as yourself.
Finally, most bosses will keep a cheerful fool just because good attitudes can make all the difference in getting through a tough day. A cheerful and competent employee? That's gold.
Applaud the jellyfish.
However, to one extent or another, everyone is self-employed. You are your own manager. You decide how you spend your time at work. You choose to be industrious, cheerful and competent, or you choose to be slovenly, recalcitrant and vicious. If you were your boss, which employee would you choose to keep?
The Duke's Handmaid beautifully illustrates the idea of the willing slave. Is it slavery if you choose it? I'm not saying be a slave, but I am saying attitude goes a long way in making drudgery into delight. Choosing to be happy, to do your best, to treat each day as a gift from God is hard. Some days I don't feel like it at all. However, I try to keep a few things in mind.
One, God made us to work. Before the Fall and the Curse, God put Adam and Eve in the garden to tend it. That's work. Our bodies are designed to move. Our brains designed to think. Work allows us to do both. It is a privilege to be healthy and mobile. I know a lot of Friends who aren't. I don't consider work something to do until I retire. Work is what I do. It gives me a reason to get up in the morning, and wears me out so I can sleep at night. Work makes me strong, and smart. Work gives me opportunities to glorify God in other peoples' lives. Work is a gift.
Two, I chose this job. I don't live in Russia, or China. The government doesn't yet assign me a job (although all you socialists out there are trying to change that, bless your brain-damaged little selves). If I hate my job so much I'm miserable day in and day out, I need to pour my energies into finding another job. Good heavens, people, stop hanging around a place you hate. Is your life really so miserable you don't know what's like to not be miserable? *shakes head* I guarantee a change in self is the only way you'll really solve your problems, but try another job if you're not up to that challenge.
Three, I have a job. There are lots and lots of folks out there right this minute who don't. They don't know where their next paycheck is coming from, or when. I am grateful that is not one of my problems. I have plenty of others.
Check your attitude. Christians, especially, since we have so many Biblical directives on this point. Is your daily work gratifying to your Master? Do you strive to do everything for his glory and in his service? You don't have to be a pastor to serve God, and your witness in a "normal" setting can have a huge impact on the unsaved.
I serve God first, but He likes it when I do a good job for my human bosses and co-workers. Love your neighbor as yourself.
Finally, most bosses will keep a cheerful fool just because good attitudes can make all the difference in getting through a tough day. A cheerful and competent employee? That's gold.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Thursday, February 11, 2016
My Dad on... Eating From Bowls
Dad was not a teacher. Mom holds that title. What I learned from Dad was mostly caught, not taught. With a couple of exceptions.
How to Eat Pudding
1. Pudding is served in a bowl with a scoop of whipped cream on top.
2. Using the back of your spoon, frost the pudding with the whipped cream, covering all visible pudding surface. Keep it as evenly spread as possible.
3. Start at the edge and scoop pudding spoonful by spoonful from the wall of the bowl inward, creating a reverse donut. The goal is to have a tower of whipped cream-topped pudding in the middle of the bowl as the last full bite. Take your time. This is the only dessert you get.
4. Lick the bowl.
Exception: if the pudding is still warm (as in, Mom made it on the stove) eat it as fast as you can, 'cause duh-am! that stuff is good. Dad never said duh-am! but he would have agreed with me. After washing my mouth out with Lava soap.
How to Eat Original Cheerios Because Your Parents Don't Want to Feed You Commercially Sugared Cereals (or Maybe Because Dad Like Original Cheerios)
1. Fill the bowl with Cheerios and milk. DO NOT fill it so full of milk that Cheerios fall out of the bowl. This is a skill to be mastered, like pouring beer without spilling foam.
2. Using the back of your spoon, dunk the top layer of Cheerios into the milk to dampen them.
3. Sprinkle sugar on the dampened Cheerios. The sugar will now stick to the Cheerios so you get sugared bites instead of having to wait to eat the sludge at the bottom of the bowl. You may sprinkle sugar on each layer of Cheerios until you are done, 'cause the sludge at the bottom is kind of the best part.
4. Drink the milk from the bowl after the Cheerios are gone and lick the sludge from the bottom.
There was a lot of bowl-licking with Dad, except in restaurants. Learned that one the hard way.
Push button. Receive bacon.
How to Eat Pudding
1. Pudding is served in a bowl with a scoop of whipped cream on top.
2. Using the back of your spoon, frost the pudding with the whipped cream, covering all visible pudding surface. Keep it as evenly spread as possible.
3. Start at the edge and scoop pudding spoonful by spoonful from the wall of the bowl inward, creating a reverse donut. The goal is to have a tower of whipped cream-topped pudding in the middle of the bowl as the last full bite. Take your time. This is the only dessert you get.
4. Lick the bowl.
Exception: if the pudding is still warm (as in, Mom made it on the stove) eat it as fast as you can, 'cause duh-am! that stuff is good. Dad never said duh-am! but he would have agreed with me. After washing my mouth out with Lava soap.
How to Eat Original Cheerios Because Your Parents Don't Want to Feed You Commercially Sugared Cereals (or Maybe Because Dad Like Original Cheerios)
1. Fill the bowl with Cheerios and milk. DO NOT fill it so full of milk that Cheerios fall out of the bowl. This is a skill to be mastered, like pouring beer without spilling foam.
2. Using the back of your spoon, dunk the top layer of Cheerios into the milk to dampen them.
3. Sprinkle sugar on the dampened Cheerios. The sugar will now stick to the Cheerios so you get sugared bites instead of having to wait to eat the sludge at the bottom of the bowl. You may sprinkle sugar on each layer of Cheerios until you are done, 'cause the sludge at the bottom is kind of the best part.
4. Drink the milk from the bowl after the Cheerios are gone and lick the sludge from the bottom.
There was a lot of bowl-licking with Dad, except in restaurants. Learned that one the hard way.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
My Dad
I don't talk about him much, but he's on my mind a lot. Maybe every day. It's hard to quantify something like that because the moment you ask "have I thought about Dad today," you have.
Dad was 5'6", which means I am 3 inches taller than he ever was. His driver's license said his eyes were hazel green, but they were the blue hazel that ranged from bright blue to gray-green depending on his shirt. I have his eyes. I have his near-sightedness and motion sickness, too. I wish I had his nose.
Dad finished the basement in the old house, including a free-standing gas fireplace with a suspended hood, but his favorite medium was metal, and his favorite projects were "things with engines." He built boats, trailers, cars, docks and an airplane. Many hours of my life were spent riding in Tolbert's Toy, a barely street-legal dune buggy he made himself.
Dad loved to ski slalom, chase hot air balloons, and go to Dairy Queen for banana splits. He loved cats (although you had to catch him at it) and kids, and they loved him back fiercely.
Dad spoiled me rotten. On Saturdays, he would be up and working in the garage by 6, and I would climb into his side of the bed to watch cartoons on their bedroom TV. I could call, and he would come all the way to the back of the house to change the channel for me. He brought my teddy bear to the hospital before my emergency appendectomy, and he once brought me some pads in a paper sandwich bag on an overnight youth trip when my period showed up early, and Mom was unavailable. OK, those last two aren't proof of spoilage, but just fond memories.
Dad never talked about growing up. He had a scar on his arm that he told me was the result of a wasp attack. That I believed him shows how young I was. Mom later said it was a knife scar from a gang fight, and he was terribly ashamed of it. He probably wouldn't like me sharing that, but he's not here so I'll share what I want.
Dad was incredibly strong. Mom told me they once came on an over-turned semi wreck, and Dad climbed onto the hood and pulled the windshield out with his bare hands to free the driver. I know there were jars we had to throw away after he died because he had twisted them shut.
Dad used to drive me to school because I didn't want to learn to drive, and he saw no reason I should have to. We listened to Larry Burkett together.
Dad worked for the State. I often wonder if he ever walked outside on his lunch break, or if we would lunch together now, and I would tell him about my job, and he would give me advice. Dad had amazing tact, and a true talent for getting along with jerks. Not that I work with jerks.
Dad would have been happy that I published two books, but I doubt he would have read them. His tastes were more biographies and technical journals. Maybe he would.
I don't talk much about my Dad, but I miss him. I miss him more every year he's gone. I know he would love his grandchildren, and would make spaces in the garage for stray cats and baby possums, and chase hot air balloons and stop for banana splits. I'm glad I have his eyes, and his motion sickness, and his tact. I wish I had his strength.
I should stop now. I can hear him: You'd better quit that crying or I'll give you something to cry about.
You kind of did, Dad, but I love you anyway.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Dad was 5'6", which means I am 3 inches taller than he ever was. His driver's license said his eyes were hazel green, but they were the blue hazel that ranged from bright blue to gray-green depending on his shirt. I have his eyes. I have his near-sightedness and motion sickness, too. I wish I had his nose.
Dad finished the basement in the old house, including a free-standing gas fireplace with a suspended hood, but his favorite medium was metal, and his favorite projects were "things with engines." He built boats, trailers, cars, docks and an airplane. Many hours of my life were spent riding in Tolbert's Toy, a barely street-legal dune buggy he made himself.
Dad loved to ski slalom, chase hot air balloons, and go to Dairy Queen for banana splits. He loved cats (although you had to catch him at it) and kids, and they loved him back fiercely.
Dad spoiled me rotten. On Saturdays, he would be up and working in the garage by 6, and I would climb into his side of the bed to watch cartoons on their bedroom TV. I could call, and he would come all the way to the back of the house to change the channel for me. He brought my teddy bear to the hospital before my emergency appendectomy, and he once brought me some pads in a paper sandwich bag on an overnight youth trip when my period showed up early, and Mom was unavailable. OK, those last two aren't proof of spoilage, but just fond memories.
Dad never talked about growing up. He had a scar on his arm that he told me was the result of a wasp attack. That I believed him shows how young I was. Mom later said it was a knife scar from a gang fight, and he was terribly ashamed of it. He probably wouldn't like me sharing that, but he's not here so I'll share what I want.
Dad was incredibly strong. Mom told me they once came on an over-turned semi wreck, and Dad climbed onto the hood and pulled the windshield out with his bare hands to free the driver. I know there were jars we had to throw away after he died because he had twisted them shut.
Dad used to drive me to school because I didn't want to learn to drive, and he saw no reason I should have to. We listened to Larry Burkett together.
Dad worked for the State. I often wonder if he ever walked outside on his lunch break, or if we would lunch together now, and I would tell him about my job, and he would give me advice. Dad had amazing tact, and a true talent for getting along with jerks. Not that I work with jerks.
Dad would have been happy that I published two books, but I doubt he would have read them. His tastes were more biographies and technical journals. Maybe he would.
I don't talk much about my Dad, but I miss him. I miss him more every year he's gone. I know he would love his grandchildren, and would make spaces in the garage for stray cats and baby possums, and chase hot air balloons and stop for banana splits. I'm glad I have his eyes, and his motion sickness, and his tact. I wish I had his strength.
I should stop now. I can hear him: You'd better quit that crying or I'll give you something to cry about.
You kind of did, Dad, but I love you anyway.
Applaud the jellyfish.
The Things I Don't Say
During my blog review, I was surprised at how many details I left out. Some of those posts are so vague, I'm not even sure what life events I was talking about.
The same with my paper journals from the last 20 years. Not that I've journaled a whole lot on paper, but when I did, they are fairly general topics, and very few names, unless they are prayer requests.
Pretty sure I learned this as an undergrad. In the therapy field, the written word can get subpoenaed, and becomes part of court history and what feels like the entire world reads it. If that isn't enough to make a person's palms sweaty, well, you're a lemming. Write whatever you want. You won't notice when it bites you.
Of course, it should have been Harriet the Spy and Biloxi Blues that taught me to keep my pen shut, but my adolescent journals are not nearly so close-mouthed. God forbid, should any of them be published posthumously, my deepest apologies to all slandered. I was a child ranting about childish things.
Why don't I destroy those? Shrug. They're part of my history. Perhaps the nieces will realize Aunt Robynn makes mistakes, too, and not just in her close-minded clinging to guns and religion. I come from critical stock. I've worked hard to prune that branch.
Fact is, I write when I'm upset, and that's a terrible time to commit details to paper. Bad enough I say things I shouldn't. Writing them down is as close to permanent as we come in this life. I don't need that following me around like a time bomb.
Push button. Receive bacon.
The same with my paper journals from the last 20 years. Not that I've journaled a whole lot on paper, but when I did, they are fairly general topics, and very few names, unless they are prayer requests.
Pretty sure I learned this as an undergrad. In the therapy field, the written word can get subpoenaed, and becomes part of court history and what feels like the entire world reads it. If that isn't enough to make a person's palms sweaty, well, you're a lemming. Write whatever you want. You won't notice when it bites you.
Of course, it should have been Harriet the Spy and Biloxi Blues that taught me to keep my pen shut, but my adolescent journals are not nearly so close-mouthed. God forbid, should any of them be published posthumously, my deepest apologies to all slandered. I was a child ranting about childish things.
Why don't I destroy those? Shrug. They're part of my history. Perhaps the nieces will realize Aunt Robynn makes mistakes, too, and not just in her close-minded clinging to guns and religion. I come from critical stock. I've worked hard to prune that branch.
Fact is, I write when I'm upset, and that's a terrible time to commit details to paper. Bad enough I say things I shouldn't. Writing them down is as close to permanent as we come in this life. I don't need that following me around like a time bomb.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Monday, February 8, 2016
9.99
I read a book review, went to find the book, and - sure enough - the ebook price is $9.99.
I can't pay $9.99 for an ebook. I can't. I have 300 page print books in my library with $2.95 stamped on the cover. Yes, they were purchased in the 70's, but that's where my values are.
When I like a book, I will buy a print copy. The zombie apocalypse won't see me lacking in good reading material (thank you, Dale, for the heads' up). I won't know if I like a book unless I read it first, and that's what ebooks are for. They're the sample to decide if that story is worth $15-$20 more dollars and valuable space in my 823 square foot house. If it isn't, I only spent $2.99 to find out. That's $2.99 you the author wouldn't have had from me if you'd priced your book at $9.99.
You might say the library is where I should read books first, but I haven't stepped into our library since they installed metal detectors. If I can't bring my machete, I'm not going in. Zombies can appear anywhere, people. ANYWHERE. Call yourselves scholars, she mumbles.
The most I ever paid for an ebook was $8.99, and it was Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind. I resented it deeply. Yes, I bought a print copy, and I didn't bother with an ebook for the next one.
If I ever charge $9.99 for an ebook, you have my permission to call me out for a hypocrite, and any other nasty name you care to level my way. If I won't pay it, I won't ask you to pay it, either.
Applaud the jellyfish.
I can't pay $9.99 for an ebook. I can't. I have 300 page print books in my library with $2.95 stamped on the cover. Yes, they were purchased in the 70's, but that's where my values are.
When I like a book, I will buy a print copy. The zombie apocalypse won't see me lacking in good reading material (thank you, Dale, for the heads' up). I won't know if I like a book unless I read it first, and that's what ebooks are for. They're the sample to decide if that story is worth $15-$20 more dollars and valuable space in my 823 square foot house. If it isn't, I only spent $2.99 to find out. That's $2.99 you the author wouldn't have had from me if you'd priced your book at $9.99.
You might say the library is where I should read books first, but I haven't stepped into our library since they installed metal detectors. If I can't bring my machete, I'm not going in. Zombies can appear anywhere, people. ANYWHERE. Call yourselves scholars, she mumbles.
The most I ever paid for an ebook was $8.99, and it was Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind. I resented it deeply. Yes, I bought a print copy, and I didn't bother with an ebook for the next one.
If I ever charge $9.99 for an ebook, you have my permission to call me out for a hypocrite, and any other nasty name you care to level my way. If I won't pay it, I won't ask you to pay it, either.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Friday, February 5, 2016
Stretching and Zombie Skulls
I resumed Classical Stretch this morning.
I had to quit during my extended bout of vertigo that started over Christmas. Couldn't handle most movement for over a month. The funny thing was, during that month, my back didn't hurt. At all. Which was a tremendous blessing because I don't know how I could have lain completely still to combat the motion sickness while my back screamed at me for lying completely still.
However, my back was so pain-free, I started wondering if the stretching was causing the pain. I mean, I stretched for three months and had extreme back-pain all that time.
I needn't have worried. About a week ago, the back started hurting again, enough to wake me up at night, and follow me to work during the day, despite oils and aspirin. I'm starting to wonder if I should see a doctor. I mean, what are the symptoms of bone cancer?
TT: A co-worker asked why I thought it was cancer. "I always go worst-case scenario first," I assured her. She rolled her eyes and suggested I might start with a chiropractor.
The part that hurts doesn't even seem to have a specific name. I've looked really hard. The whole muscle is called the latissimus dorsi, but only the part that sits between that dimple in the middle of the backside and the top of my hips hurts. How does that part even get stretched?
Anyway, I have to do something physical. There is no point going into The Swamp when it's frozen, and that's where I work out my stress. For the first time, I'm wishing I had a set of weights.
TT: I did go out last night and spend 10 minutes hacking at the tree stump with my new-to-me mattock, thinking about zombie skulls (and a couple of not-yet-zombie skulls) with each chop. Have I mentioned people frustrate me?
I'm sad about how much flexibility I've lost in 6 weeks, but that's OK. I'm in this for the long haul. Like life.
Push button. Receive bacon.
I had to quit during my extended bout of vertigo that started over Christmas. Couldn't handle most movement for over a month. The funny thing was, during that month, my back didn't hurt. At all. Which was a tremendous blessing because I don't know how I could have lain completely still to combat the motion sickness while my back screamed at me for lying completely still.
However, my back was so pain-free, I started wondering if the stretching was causing the pain. I mean, I stretched for three months and had extreme back-pain all that time.
I needn't have worried. About a week ago, the back started hurting again, enough to wake me up at night, and follow me to work during the day, despite oils and aspirin. I'm starting to wonder if I should see a doctor. I mean, what are the symptoms of bone cancer?
TT: A co-worker asked why I thought it was cancer. "I always go worst-case scenario first," I assured her. She rolled her eyes and suggested I might start with a chiropractor.
The part that hurts doesn't even seem to have a specific name. I've looked really hard. The whole muscle is called the latissimus dorsi, but only the part that sits between that dimple in the middle of the backside and the top of my hips hurts. How does that part even get stretched?
Anyway, I have to do something physical. There is no point going into The Swamp when it's frozen, and that's where I work out my stress. For the first time, I'm wishing I had a set of weights.
TT: I did go out last night and spend 10 minutes hacking at the tree stump with my new-to-me mattock, thinking about zombie skulls (and a couple of not-yet-zombie skulls) with each chop. Have I mentioned people frustrate me?
I'm sad about how much flexibility I've lost in 6 weeks, but that's OK. I'm in this for the long haul. Like life.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
An Inconvenient Life
I'm having one of those Elijah moments, when the stress has ebbed, and I'm really, really tired, irritable and depressed. I should be happy and grateful for the lag, but I'm not. I know what's coming, I know how little time I have to do things that need to be done yet keep getting pushed to the back-burner, and it annoys me.
I'm not a Type A personality, no matter what the folks at my day job think. If I were, I would have 10-15 books written at this point, and most of them published in the last three years. I try to live my work life cheerfully and efficiently, and I succeed for the most part.
Have you ever noticed how inconvenient it is to do the right thing? I use "right" here in a broad, non-religious sense. I could as easily say the "nice" thing. The paper is almost used up. The nice thing to do is refill it, but that's inconvenient, so leave it to the next guy, who has just as much work to do as you do. The nice thing is to let that car that's been signaling for a mile pull in front of you, but that could mean you miss the light and then you would miss the first 5 minutes of How I Met Your Mother, and that just can't be allowed to happen, so screw "nice." The nice thing is to pull that worm out of that puddle, but God forbid you get your hands wet and/or dirty. There are other worms. That one can drown.
People, in general, suck. Adam and Eve chose self over others, and their children have been doing it ever since. Even the first church couldn't sustain selfless giving past the first generation of believers.
I have a guiding rule about interpersonal relationships: be nice. It becomes increasingly hard to live that rule in a society of hypocrites that shoot off at the mouth about how we should all be taking care of each other yet have no problem cheating on taxes, or texting while driving, or stealing anything that isn't tied to someone's back. Don't see the problem? Then you're part of it.
However, your actions don't trump my choice. I will be nice, and you can all go to Hell in your handbaskets.
Push button. Receive bacon.
I'm not a Type A personality, no matter what the folks at my day job think. If I were, I would have 10-15 books written at this point, and most of them published in the last three years. I try to live my work life cheerfully and efficiently, and I succeed for the most part.
Have you ever noticed how inconvenient it is to do the right thing? I use "right" here in a broad, non-religious sense. I could as easily say the "nice" thing. The paper is almost used up. The nice thing to do is refill it, but that's inconvenient, so leave it to the next guy, who has just as much work to do as you do. The nice thing is to let that car that's been signaling for a mile pull in front of you, but that could mean you miss the light and then you would miss the first 5 minutes of How I Met Your Mother, and that just can't be allowed to happen, so screw "nice." The nice thing is to pull that worm out of that puddle, but God forbid you get your hands wet and/or dirty. There are other worms. That one can drown.
People, in general, suck. Adam and Eve chose self over others, and their children have been doing it ever since. Even the first church couldn't sustain selfless giving past the first generation of believers.
I have a guiding rule about interpersonal relationships: be nice. It becomes increasingly hard to live that rule in a society of hypocrites that shoot off at the mouth about how we should all be taking care of each other yet have no problem cheating on taxes, or texting while driving, or stealing anything that isn't tied to someone's back. Don't see the problem? Then you're part of it.
However, your actions don't trump my choice. I will be nice, and you can all go to Hell in your handbaskets.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
A Step Away
Somewhere in this blog I've mentioned the Gillhams, Bill and Anabel, of Lifetime Ministries. Can't find the post at the moment, but I will eventually.
Bill Gillham was a psychologist and minister, and made a career out of teaching that there is no "Old Man" after salvation, so the fight isn't between the New Man and the Old Man but between the New Man and Sin, "Sin" being an exterior personification of evil, much as Wisdom is personified in Proverbs. I'm not going to do justice to a lifetime ministry in one blurb, so I'll leave it at that.
On one of his videos, he said we always talk about Heaven being "up there" or "away yonder," but what if Heaven starts an inch above the ground? What if we walk through Heaven every single day, but we can't perceive it because we're still in our unresurrected skin suits? Would it make a difference to imagine yourself moving through Heaven as you move through your day?
Randy Alcorn makes the argument that this physical world will be resurrected, too, so we are, in effect, occupying the space Heaven will eventually occupy. I suspect Heaven is already here, but phase-shifted.
Anyway, it makes a difference to me to imagine Heaven around me all the time. I find peace in the thought that no matter what step I take, I'm stepping into Jesus, like Michael J. Fox's character in The Frighteners steps into ghosts. Only not ectoplasm-y.
I am a creature of moods, like Rosamund in The Lost Princess. Sometimes they shake me in their teeth, and all I can do is clamp my jaws shut and wait for the next mood. I've been there a few days, but I'm coming 'round. Heaven is a step away, after all. Why should I be moody?
Push button. Receive bacon.
Bill Gillham was a psychologist and minister, and made a career out of teaching that there is no "Old Man" after salvation, so the fight isn't between the New Man and the Old Man but between the New Man and Sin, "Sin" being an exterior personification of evil, much as Wisdom is personified in Proverbs. I'm not going to do justice to a lifetime ministry in one blurb, so I'll leave it at that.
On one of his videos, he said we always talk about Heaven being "up there" or "away yonder," but what if Heaven starts an inch above the ground? What if we walk through Heaven every single day, but we can't perceive it because we're still in our unresurrected skin suits? Would it make a difference to imagine yourself moving through Heaven as you move through your day?
Randy Alcorn makes the argument that this physical world will be resurrected, too, so we are, in effect, occupying the space Heaven will eventually occupy. I suspect Heaven is already here, but phase-shifted.
Anyway, it makes a difference to me to imagine Heaven around me all the time. I find peace in the thought that no matter what step I take, I'm stepping into Jesus, like Michael J. Fox's character in The Frighteners steps into ghosts. Only not ectoplasm-y.
I am a creature of moods, like Rosamund in The Lost Princess. Sometimes they shake me in their teeth, and all I can do is clamp my jaws shut and wait for the next mood. I've been there a few days, but I'm coming 'round. Heaven is a step away, after all. Why should I be moody?
Push button. Receive bacon.
Thursday, January 28, 2016
I've Been Reading
The first month of 2016 has been a bit much at work. Three people left us for new jobs, The Powers That Be have rearranged other jobs, and I am training four people on four different "desks" (sets of job duties). I've never done this kind of training before, and my students are varied in skill sets and aptitude. Fortunately, they are all adults willing to try, and that is half the battle.
My hourly mantra, both spoken and prayed, is "we will get through this," and the proof of my enforced confidence is... we are. Everyone is learning, and adapting, and gaining competence, and the world is settling into a calmer pattern.
In the past, this kind of brain fry would involve Farmville clicking for hours in the evening, but I gave that up as being not only unhelpful but demonstrably harmful.
Anne McCaffrey's Crystal Singer kept coming to mind - the tale of a woman driven to be The Best in whatever difficult, prestigious career she could find - so I read that this weekend, and was relieved to discover I still love the book.
TT: Sometimes my younger-self feelings don't match my older-self worldview anymore, and I've lost some favorite enjoyments as a result.
I've moved to Killashandra, and will finish off with Crystal Line eventually. It's been nice to turn off the electronics - except for the blanket - crack the spine of an old scifi novel, and remember why I love Anne's style. Add some Benedryl and Bayer back and body aspirin, and I've even managed to sleep through the night two nights in a row. It's a miracle.
Push button. Receive bacon.
My hourly mantra, both spoken and prayed, is "we will get through this," and the proof of my enforced confidence is... we are. Everyone is learning, and adapting, and gaining competence, and the world is settling into a calmer pattern.
In the past, this kind of brain fry would involve Farmville clicking for hours in the evening, but I gave that up as being not only unhelpful but demonstrably harmful.
Anne McCaffrey's Crystal Singer kept coming to mind - the tale of a woman driven to be The Best in whatever difficult, prestigious career she could find - so I read that this weekend, and was relieved to discover I still love the book.
TT: Sometimes my younger-self feelings don't match my older-self worldview anymore, and I've lost some favorite enjoyments as a result.
I've moved to Killashandra, and will finish off with Crystal Line eventually. It's been nice to turn off the electronics - except for the blanket - crack the spine of an old scifi novel, and remember why I love Anne's style. Add some Benedryl and Bayer back and body aspirin, and I've even managed to sleep through the night two nights in a row. It's a miracle.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
House of Prayer
I am a pray-er. I pray a lot. Not usually in specific, on-my-knees sessions, but throughout the day and night, an ongoing conversation with God covering requests, emotions, thanks and rants. Proverbs 3:5-6 is one of my favorite verses. I take the "in all your ways acknowledge him" part very seriously, expecting him to "direct my path."
TT: This was why it was so hard for me and him to be on the outs in the Winter of 2012. How do you stop talking to someone who's been in the room with you for 30+ years?
I take my example from Moses, who was "a friend of God." I talk to my friends, and I rarely hold back. So, I pray.
God recently reminded me he answers prayers long-term.
See, some of my prayers are immediate, like "God, I need that notebook for work. Please show me where it is." He did, btw, within minutes.
Most of my prayers are long-term, and I don't expect to see the results in this life, like "God, protect Big Brother and all of his Siblings in Black and cousins in emergency services. Protect them mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically from all that comes against them today." I have no idea how God actually does that for all the law enforcement officers in Topeka, but I know he's working on it, and I thank him every day Big Brother comes home well.
Years ago, I studied prayer under Jim Cymbala of the Mormon Tabernacle. Not personally; it was a devotional. Pretty sure he compared prayer to building a house. Houses are built one brick at a time. You don't lay a brick and expect the house to be finished. You keep laying bricks. Just because I don't see an instant result doesn't mean nothing is happening. My house of prayer won't be finished until this life is over and the next begins. God is kind to let me see results now, but he is kinder to produce results. That's why I pray.
Keep praying. Pray for the big issues and the little ones. Tell God your hopes and fears. He already knows them, so don't hold back. Our goal isn't to make God do something; it's to open our eyes to what he is doing, every day.
Push button. Receive bacon.
TT: This was why it was so hard for me and him to be on the outs in the Winter of 2012. How do you stop talking to someone who's been in the room with you for 30+ years?
I take my example from Moses, who was "a friend of God." I talk to my friends, and I rarely hold back. So, I pray.
God recently reminded me he answers prayers long-term.
See, some of my prayers are immediate, like "God, I need that notebook for work. Please show me where it is." He did, btw, within minutes.
Most of my prayers are long-term, and I don't expect to see the results in this life, like "God, protect Big Brother and all of his Siblings in Black and cousins in emergency services. Protect them mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically from all that comes against them today." I have no idea how God actually does that for all the law enforcement officers in Topeka, but I know he's working on it, and I thank him every day Big Brother comes home well.
Years ago, I studied prayer under Jim Cymbala of the Mormon Tabernacle. Not personally; it was a devotional. Pretty sure he compared prayer to building a house. Houses are built one brick at a time. You don't lay a brick and expect the house to be finished. You keep laying bricks. Just because I don't see an instant result doesn't mean nothing is happening. My house of prayer won't be finished until this life is over and the next begins. God is kind to let me see results now, but he is kinder to produce results. That's why I pray.
Keep praying. Pray for the big issues and the little ones. Tell God your hopes and fears. He already knows them, so don't hold back. Our goal isn't to make God do something; it's to open our eyes to what he is doing, every day.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Wait and See
Have you heard the story of the old farmer who had a beautiful, well-trained horse? The whole village said that was good. The farmer said, "wait and see."
The horse runs away. The village says you were right, having a horse was bad.
"Wait and see."
The horse comes back with six wild horses. The village says you were right. The horse running away was good.
"Wait and see."
The farmer's son breaks his leg while breaking one of the wild horses. "You were right. Getting those horses was bad."
"Wait and see."
The kingdom goes to war, and all the sons are drafted, except the farmer's. "You were right. The broken leg was a good thing."
"Wait and see."
The point of the tale, of course, is we can't really tell what works for us or against us until the very end of the story. The meaning of each incident was affected by what went before and what came after.
My nature is to draw conclusions from facts. That isn't changing. I am learning that what seems a disaster might be opportunity, and what feels like an end may be a beginning. False expectations ruin more lives than actual problems.
I don't have all the facts. I don't know how God will use your life or mine. I only know that He has, and He will continue.
"Wait and see."
Applaud the jellyfish.
The horse runs away. The village says you were right, having a horse was bad.
"Wait and see."
The horse comes back with six wild horses. The village says you were right. The horse running away was good.
"Wait and see."
The farmer's son breaks his leg while breaking one of the wild horses. "You were right. Getting those horses was bad."
"Wait and see."
The kingdom goes to war, and all the sons are drafted, except the farmer's. "You were right. The broken leg was a good thing."
"Wait and see."
The point of the tale, of course, is we can't really tell what works for us or against us until the very end of the story. The meaning of each incident was affected by what went before and what came after.
My nature is to draw conclusions from facts. That isn't changing. I am learning that what seems a disaster might be opportunity, and what feels like an end may be a beginning. False expectations ruin more lives than actual problems.
I don't have all the facts. I don't know how God will use your life or mine. I only know that He has, and He will continue.
"Wait and see."
Applaud the jellyfish.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Mortgages, part 3, or The Happy Part
I got another end of year report from my mortgage company. The escrow account estimates.
See, insurance and taxes are paid out of the mortgage. At least, mine are. I don't know if that's normal or not.
All that money I've paid? I forgot a portion of it is insurance and taxes. Almost a third of the refinanced mortgage payments, actually, if my estimates are correct. That means in 10 years, almost a third of what I paid to the mortgage company was taxes and insurance, not interest. I would have been paying that anyway.
So, I haven't been wasting my time, or money, paying ahead on principal. The mortgage company isn't lying about what I've paid on the principal. That huge amount breaks out into smaller, reasonable amounts. I just had to take a couple of weeks and marinate on it.
I still wish I'd known to get a 15-yr, fixed rate mortgage with 20% down, but I did what I could at the time, and it wasn't horrible. I still have a real chance of paying this off in 3 years.
I'm not likely to ever "make the money back" by selling the house, but I never intended to sell the house. I bought this house for life. We like each other most days, and I like to think we respect each other the rest of the time.
So this is probably the last post about the mortgage for a few years, but I will absolutely let you all know when the last payment is posted.
Applaud the jellyfish.
See, insurance and taxes are paid out of the mortgage. At least, mine are. I don't know if that's normal or not.
All that money I've paid? I forgot a portion of it is insurance and taxes. Almost a third of the refinanced mortgage payments, actually, if my estimates are correct. That means in 10 years, almost a third of what I paid to the mortgage company was taxes and insurance, not interest. I would have been paying that anyway.
So, I haven't been wasting my time, or money, paying ahead on principal. The mortgage company isn't lying about what I've paid on the principal. That huge amount breaks out into smaller, reasonable amounts. I just had to take a couple of weeks and marinate on it.
I still wish I'd known to get a 15-yr, fixed rate mortgage with 20% down, but I did what I could at the time, and it wasn't horrible. I still have a real chance of paying this off in 3 years.
I'm not likely to ever "make the money back" by selling the house, but I never intended to sell the house. I bought this house for life. We like each other most days, and I like to think we respect each other the rest of the time.
So this is probably the last post about the mortgage for a few years, but I will absolutely let you all know when the last payment is posted.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Mortgages, part 2
So there I am with a new 30 yr, lower interest fixed-rate mortgage on the same amount of money, no PMI, paying extra on principal. Larry would be proud. I didn't know Dave yet.
I thought that was fabulous, so I put it on auto-pilot. I met Dave, heard I'd still done it kinda wrong, shrugged it off, and lived my life for the next 10 years.
This winter, I ran some year-end reports. I do this every year, but this was the year I paid attention to the mortgage. I used a mortgage calculator from the Internet (and we all know those have to be true), and learned I might be able to pay off the mortgage in 3-6 years.
I got nervous, and excited. Could this be true? Was I really that close? I could be gazelle-intense (a Dave phrase) for 3 years, if it meant ending the mortgage. Hope in the future revived.
Then I ran some more reports.
I was stunned. HOW MUCH money had I paid on this house already?! Quicken doesn't lie, and I'm very careful about categories, so there it was in black and red. The first mortgage, the refinanced mortgage...
Where was my savings? Why wasn't the house paid off with those amounts? Were they lying to me about how much I owed? Who kept tabs on mortgage companies and how did I complain?
I got instantly depressed, then angry, then depressed again. The money was gone. I'd been duped. Again. Like Lavender Squeak, only with way more 1000's of dollars.
I ran more internet mortgage calculators and couldn't find the same results as the first one. I got more depressed as the time stretched far into eternity. Eight years feels like an eternity compared to three.
I used the mortgage company's calculator, and decided those folks just plain lie. They're like credit card companies. They probably call me a deadbeat because I pay early.
That's where I sat for a week.
Push button. Receive bacon.
I thought that was fabulous, so I put it on auto-pilot. I met Dave, heard I'd still done it kinda wrong, shrugged it off, and lived my life for the next 10 years.
This winter, I ran some year-end reports. I do this every year, but this was the year I paid attention to the mortgage. I used a mortgage calculator from the Internet (and we all know those have to be true), and learned I might be able to pay off the mortgage in 3-6 years.
I got nervous, and excited. Could this be true? Was I really that close? I could be gazelle-intense (a Dave phrase) for 3 years, if it meant ending the mortgage. Hope in the future revived.
Then I ran some more reports.
I was stunned. HOW MUCH money had I paid on this house already?! Quicken doesn't lie, and I'm very careful about categories, so there it was in black and red. The first mortgage, the refinanced mortgage...
Where was my savings? Why wasn't the house paid off with those amounts? Were they lying to me about how much I owed? Who kept tabs on mortgage companies and how did I complain?
I got instantly depressed, then angry, then depressed again. The money was gone. I'd been duped. Again. Like Lavender Squeak, only with way more 1000's of dollars.
I ran more internet mortgage calculators and couldn't find the same results as the first one. I got more depressed as the time stretched far into eternity. Eight years feels like an eternity compared to three.
I used the mortgage company's calculator, and decided those folks just plain lie. They're like credit card companies. They probably call me a deadbeat because I pay early.
That's where I sat for a week.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
Mortgages
You thought I'd moved on, didn't you? Nope. Just got real quiet while I kept worrying at it.
This is advice for the young people, who don't bother to read anyway, so I guess it's really for me to get off my chest.
I grew up listening to Larry Burkett of Crown Ministries on the radio on the drive to school. RIP, Larry. I'll hug you long and hard when we meet in heaven.
When I bought a house, I knew to get a fixed-rate (as in the interest rate remains the same through the whole life of the mortgage instead of going up and down with interest rates in the market) mortgage and pay extra on principal with every payment. I also knew to specify "principal" when I paid, so the money didn't get applied somewhere else, like interest. I knew to buy less house than the bank said I could afford because the bank is only in it to get the interest, and the bigger the loan, the more I pay the bank in interest over the lifetime of the loan.
I bought my house with a 30 yr, fixed-rate mortgage and paid extra principal on every payment. Not crazy extra but as close to $100 per month more as I could get by rounding up.
I hadn't met Dave Ramsey, also a Larry Burkett student, before I bought my house. I started listening to him years later, and it took a while for him to make sense. I get it now.
Dave says to put at least 20% of the cost of the house down in cash to remove the PMI (mortgage insurance) which is a huge portion of those initial mortgage payments.
I didn't have 20% at the time I bought the house, but God was kind, and between what I paid down with extra principle, and the house value going up, I was able to refinance in 5 yrs with a lower interest rate and no PMI.
I kept paying that extra principal, knowing the sooner I paid off the loan, the less interest I would end up paying the bank. I felt good about myself.
More tomorrow.
Push button. Receive bacon.
This is advice for the young people, who don't bother to read anyway, so I guess it's really for me to get off my chest.
I grew up listening to Larry Burkett of Crown Ministries on the radio on the drive to school. RIP, Larry. I'll hug you long and hard when we meet in heaven.
When I bought a house, I knew to get a fixed-rate (as in the interest rate remains the same through the whole life of the mortgage instead of going up and down with interest rates in the market) mortgage and pay extra on principal with every payment. I also knew to specify "principal" when I paid, so the money didn't get applied somewhere else, like interest. I knew to buy less house than the bank said I could afford because the bank is only in it to get the interest, and the bigger the loan, the more I pay the bank in interest over the lifetime of the loan.
I bought my house with a 30 yr, fixed-rate mortgage and paid extra principal on every payment. Not crazy extra but as close to $100 per month more as I could get by rounding up.
I hadn't met Dave Ramsey, also a Larry Burkett student, before I bought my house. I started listening to him years later, and it took a while for him to make sense. I get it now.
Dave says to put at least 20% of the cost of the house down in cash to remove the PMI (mortgage insurance) which is a huge portion of those initial mortgage payments.
I didn't have 20% at the time I bought the house, but God was kind, and between what I paid down with extra principle, and the house value going up, I was able to refinance in 5 yrs with a lower interest rate and no PMI.
I kept paying that extra principal, knowing the sooner I paid off the loan, the less interest I would end up paying the bank. I felt good about myself.
More tomorrow.
Push button. Receive bacon.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
A Survey of...Daughter of Anasca
1. What’s your word count? Aiming for 100K. Haven't quite cut it that much yet.
2. How long until you finish? Depends on when it gets published.
3. If you have finished, how long did it take you? Feels like 400 hours, but less than that, probably.
4. Do you have an outline? I thought I did. That was most of my problem.
5. Do you have a plot? See answer above.
6. How many words do you typically write a day? skip,
7. What was your greatest word count in one day? skip,
8. What was your least impressive word count in one day? skip to my lady...
9. What inspired you to write? This one? Dare I say it? ElfQuest. And some movie involving Maureen O'Hara and Errol Flynn involving shepherds and ranchers.
10. Does your novel have a theme song?
Little John & the Band from the Robin Hood Prince of Thieves soundtrack This is the song running through my head during Dyana's fight with the boarase.
11. Assign each of your major characters a theme song.
Dyana: Annie's Song by Roger Whittaker. I can't believe I found this version! I love it!
Glorya: Love Has a Hold on Me by Amy Grant
Cahnar: I Will Be Here by Steven Curtis Chapman. I don't like this version. It's too slow, but, again, it was all I could find on YouTube.
Spidraax She's Like the Wind by Patrick Swayze Yes, this could be Dyana's theme song, but it isn't.
12. Which character is most like you? Glorya.
13. Which character would you most likely be friends with? Glorya.
14. Do you have a Gary-Stu or Mary Sue character? No.
15. Who is your favorite character in your novel? Harimer.
16. Have your characters ever done something completely unexpected? Yes.
17. Have you based any of your novel directly on personal experiences? Not this one. Can't think of a single thing in this one.
18. Do you believe in plot bunnies? Don't know what they are. Sound delicious.
19. Is there magic in your novel? Two kinds.
20. Are any holidays celebrated in your novel? Is marriage a holiday?
21. Does anyone die? Yes.
22. How many cups of coffee/tea have you consumed during your writing experience? 4 per day on average.
23. What is the latest you have stayed up writing? 11 PM.
24. What is the best line? Oh, so many...
"What do you suffer in this arrangement?"
Before Cahnar could speak the word poised on his tongue, Harimer interrupted.
"Hamstring her. Height means nothing if she cannot walk."
"Thank you.That is the kind of help I want."
25. What is the worst line? I suppose all the lines I don't giggle about.
26. Have you dreamed about your novel or its characters? Not these.
27. Does your novel rely heavily on allegory? No.
28. Summarize your novel in under fifteen words. There are worse things than marriage.
29. Do you love all your characters? Yes.
30. Have you done something sadistic or cruel to your characters specifically to increase your word count? No. I like hurting them for no reason.
31. What was the last thing your main character ate? Dyana? Poisoned fruit.
32. Describe your main character in three words.
Dyana: reckless, headstrong, spitfire.
Glorya: cautious, determined, righteous.
33. What would your antagonist dress up as for Halloween? Herself.
34. Does anyone in your story go to a place of worship? Yes.
35. How many romantic relationships take place in your novel? Two.
36. Are there any explosions in your novel? Not this one.
37. Is there an apocalypse in your novel? Not this one.
38. Does your novel take place in a post-apocalyptic world? No.
39. Are there zombies, vampires or werewolves in your novel? No.
40. Are there witches, wizards or mythological creatures/figures in your novel? Witches, yes.
41. Is anyone reincarnated? No.
42. Is anyone physically ailed? Not sure what this means. Disabled...actually, yes.
43. Is anyone mentally ill? So very many.
44. Does anyone have swine flu? No.
45. Who has pets in your novel and what are they? No pets.
46. Are there angels, demons, or any religious references/figures in your novel? Demons, yes. And plenty of religious references.
47. How about political figures? These are princes and princesses, so, yes, I suppose.
48. Is there incessant drinking? A liberal application of potions, yes.
49. Are there board games? If so, which ones? No. Do have some hakisak, though.
50. Are there any dream sequences? No.
51. Is there humor? Boy, I hope so.
52. Is there tragedy? Absolutely.
53. Does anyone have a temper tantrum? So many.
54. How many characters end up single at the end of your novel? Most of them.
55. Is anyone in your novel adopted? Depends. Can in-laws count?
56. Does anyone in your novel wear glasses? Nope. Not invented.
57. Has your novel provided insight about your life? It was no walk in the park, I'll tell ya that.
58. Your personality? Bits of me all over the place.
59. Has your novel inspired anyone? Quick, somebody comment!
60. How many people have asked to read this novel? Nine? I gave it to eight of them. *evil grin*
61. Have you drawn any of your characters? Yep. Check out my website Elementals page for the little sketches. The big drawings won't fit on my scanner.
62. Has anyone drawn your characters for you? Not to my knowledge.
63. Does anyone vomit in your novel? Not in this one. I had enough of that with my first.
64. Does anyone bleed in your novel? Everybody.
65. Do any of your characters watch TV? Doesn't exist.
66. What size shoe does your main character wear? Dyana: 5s. Glorya: 8s.
67. Do any of the characters in your novel use a computer? Don't exist.
68. How would you react if your novel was erased entirely? I'd kill myself. After I killed whoever erased it. With a spoon. It would not be pretty.
69. Did you cry at killing off any of your characters? No.
70. Did you cheer when killing off one of your characters? No.
71. What advice would you give to a fellow writer? Don't pour new wine into old wineskins. You'll end up with a mess.
72. Describe your ending in three words. Happily until sequel.
73. Are there any love triangles, squares, hexagons, etc.? Yes.
74. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being the least stressful, 10 being the most) how does your stress rank? I don't understand the question. Where's my spoon?
75. Was it worth it? Totally.
Don't know if this survey was...
2. How long until you finish? Depends on when it gets published.
3. If you have finished, how long did it take you? Feels like 400 hours, but less than that, probably.
4. Do you have an outline? I thought I did. That was most of my problem.
5. Do you have a plot? See answer above.
6. How many words do you typically write a day? skip,
7. What was your greatest word count in one day? skip,
8. What was your least impressive word count in one day? skip to my lady...
9. What inspired you to write? This one? Dare I say it? ElfQuest. And some movie involving Maureen O'Hara and Errol Flynn involving shepherds and ranchers.
10. Does your novel have a theme song?
Little John & the Band from the Robin Hood Prince of Thieves soundtrack This is the song running through my head during Dyana's fight with the boarase.
11. Assign each of your major characters a theme song.
Dyana: Annie's Song by Roger Whittaker. I can't believe I found this version! I love it!
Glorya: Love Has a Hold on Me by Amy Grant
Cahnar: I Will Be Here by Steven Curtis Chapman. I don't like this version. It's too slow, but, again, it was all I could find on YouTube.
Spidraax She's Like the Wind by Patrick Swayze Yes, this could be Dyana's theme song, but it isn't.
12. Which character is most like you? Glorya.
13. Which character would you most likely be friends with? Glorya.
14. Do you have a Gary-Stu or Mary Sue character? No.
15. Who is your favorite character in your novel? Harimer.
16. Have your characters ever done something completely unexpected? Yes.
17. Have you based any of your novel directly on personal experiences? Not this one. Can't think of a single thing in this one.
18. Do you believe in plot bunnies? Don't know what they are. Sound delicious.
19. Is there magic in your novel? Two kinds.
20. Are any holidays celebrated in your novel? Is marriage a holiday?
21. Does anyone die? Yes.
22. How many cups of coffee/tea have you consumed during your writing experience? 4 per day on average.
23. What is the latest you have stayed up writing? 11 PM.
24. What is the best line? Oh, so many...
"What do you suffer in this arrangement?"
Before Cahnar could speak the word poised on his tongue, Harimer interrupted.
"Hamstring her. Height means nothing if she cannot walk."
"Thank you.That is the kind of help I want."
25. What is the worst line? I suppose all the lines I don't giggle about.
26. Have you dreamed about your novel or its characters? Not these.
27. Does your novel rely heavily on allegory? No.
28. Summarize your novel in under fifteen words. There are worse things than marriage.
29. Do you love all your characters? Yes.
30. Have you done something sadistic or cruel to your characters specifically to increase your word count? No. I like hurting them for no reason.
31. What was the last thing your main character ate? Dyana? Poisoned fruit.
32. Describe your main character in three words.
Dyana: reckless, headstrong, spitfire.
Glorya: cautious, determined, righteous.
33. What would your antagonist dress up as for Halloween? Herself.
34. Does anyone in your story go to a place of worship? Yes.
35. How many romantic relationships take place in your novel? Two.
36. Are there any explosions in your novel? Not this one.
37. Is there an apocalypse in your novel? Not this one.
38. Does your novel take place in a post-apocalyptic world? No.
39. Are there zombies, vampires or werewolves in your novel? No.
40. Are there witches, wizards or mythological creatures/figures in your novel? Witches, yes.
41. Is anyone reincarnated? No.
42. Is anyone physically ailed? Not sure what this means. Disabled...actually, yes.
43. Is anyone mentally ill? So very many.
44. Does anyone have swine flu? No.
45. Who has pets in your novel and what are they? No pets.
46. Are there angels, demons, or any religious references/figures in your novel? Demons, yes. And plenty of religious references.
47. How about political figures? These are princes and princesses, so, yes, I suppose.
48. Is there incessant drinking? A liberal application of potions, yes.
49. Are there board games? If so, which ones? No. Do have some hakisak, though.
50. Are there any dream sequences? No.
51. Is there humor? Boy, I hope so.
52. Is there tragedy? Absolutely.
53. Does anyone have a temper tantrum? So many.
54. How many characters end up single at the end of your novel? Most of them.
55. Is anyone in your novel adopted? Depends. Can in-laws count?
56. Does anyone in your novel wear glasses? Nope. Not invented.
57. Has your novel provided insight about your life? It was no walk in the park, I'll tell ya that.
58. Your personality? Bits of me all over the place.
59. Has your novel inspired anyone? Quick, somebody comment!
60. How many people have asked to read this novel? Nine? I gave it to eight of them. *evil grin*
61. Have you drawn any of your characters? Yep. Check out my website Elementals page for the little sketches. The big drawings won't fit on my scanner.
62. Has anyone drawn your characters for you? Not to my knowledge.
63. Does anyone vomit in your novel? Not in this one. I had enough of that with my first.
64. Does anyone bleed in your novel? Everybody.
65. Do any of your characters watch TV? Doesn't exist.
66. What size shoe does your main character wear? Dyana: 5s. Glorya: 8s.
67. Do any of the characters in your novel use a computer? Don't exist.
68. How would you react if your novel was erased entirely? I'd kill myself. After I killed whoever erased it. With a spoon. It would not be pretty.
69. Did you cry at killing off any of your characters? No.
70. Did you cheer when killing off one of your characters? No.
71. What advice would you give to a fellow writer? Don't pour new wine into old wineskins. You'll end up with a mess.
72. Describe your ending in three words. Happily until sequel.
73. Are there any love triangles, squares, hexagons, etc.? Yes.
74. On a scale of 1-10 (1 being the least stressful, 10 being the most) how does your stress rank? I don't understand the question. Where's my spoon?
75. Was it worth it? Totally.
Don't know if this survey was...
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