Overdosing on being online

Ah, technology. Isn't it great? We have unparalleled opportunities to connect with family, friends, acquaintances, neighbors, co-workers, and all manner of fellow humanity. All online! Twenty-four hours a day. Need a job? Send up your own personal bat signal on LinkedIn. Planning your kid's birthday party? Pinterest abounds with inspiration. Oooooh, I have a free moment--I think I'll check Facebook and see what's up. Technology = progress = better lives. Isn't that how the equation should be? In reality, it seems like all this "connection" feeds thoughts of pettiness, insecurity, and jealousy.

As people, we all want to feel an authentic connection to those around us. It's how we're wired. However, there's a fine line between sharing too much and not sharing enough. Have you ever scoffed to yourself about someone's too-perky status update? I've found myself thinking, "Oh, please. You're not the first person in the world to have a kid," or "You're on the beach. I'm hauling out the trash in the middle of January, wading through the snow. Thanks for rubbing it in!" And when a thought like this occurs to me, I don't like the way I feel.

Several of my close circle have decided that they need to delete their Facebook accounts. Some have come back into the fold cautiously after purging their friend lists. Is the solution unplugging from it all? I don't think so. After much introspection and some serious conversations with smart people, I have formed my own simple social media policy.

1. I will accept friend requests only from people I know personally and to whom I want to be connected.
2. I will not allow online pressure to govern my decisions. 
3. I control how much time I spend on any given social network.
4. I control how I react to others' postings.

Honestly, I think number four is key and it's the one on which I've spent the most reflection time. A recent issue of Psychology Today featured an intriguing article called What Happy People Do Differently. One of the sub-sections was titled The Unjealous Friend, where the author says, "What's precious and scarce are those people who can truly share in others' joy and gains without envy." In other words, people who are happy for others are more likely to be happy themselves.

Of course, this isn't a new concept. Take a look at Phil. 4:8: Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.

Even the most optimistic person in the world still has bad days. You might not talk about them, but everyone has them. No one is exempt. For some people, it may be a coping mechanism to write about the good things to get you through the bad things. Instead of assuming that your friend is trying to prop herself up, assume that she is cultivating an attitude of gratitude.
 
I like the saying, "Be kind; everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." A little gentleness, online or face-to-face, goes a long way. So, go ahead. Share the joy in your life unabashed and rest assured: I'm rejoicing with you.

Pet peeves part 2

It's been a while since my first post about personal pet peeves. Perhaps a follow-up is in order? Your wish is my command!

Note: I started this post months ago, but was motivated to finish it after experiencing one of my pet peeves last night at dinner. I'll let you guess which one. ;)

Servers who introduce themselves with the line "I'll be taking care of you tonight"

When I go out to eat, I want to enjoy a dinner that I didn't have to cook. However, I'm not completely debilitated. (At least usually!) So when someone pops up to my table and says brightly, "Hi, I'm Susie and I'll be taking care of you tonight," I can't help but be a little befuddled. So, Susie, will you be tucking me into bed and giving me a warm glass of milk too? I know I'm probably over-thinking this, but it's the way my mind works.

Ugly mascots

I've written before about mascots, specifically the mascot of the Eau Claire Express. But in honor of the team's 10th anniversary, a companion mascot named Trix was unveiled. Anyone out there think this is attractive? {You do? Whoops, didn't mean to offend you! In a related matter, have you recently fallen and hit your head?}

I'm intrigued by mascots. I think about how hot it must be to wear the costumes. On a hot summer day, as you're sweating buckets, are you thinking about who wore the costume before you? Does it smell kind of strange? What does it look like viewing the world through a mesh screen while everyone else is looking above your head? Do you have a complex because children run away from you, terrified and afraid? So many questions.

Baseball players with mouthfuls of sunflower seeds in HD

I recently heard someone remark, "Once you see a game in HD, you won't be able to go back to watching sports in lower definition." I don't know if this is true, but I do know that HD has changed the way that I watch TV. I see things I never expected or wanted to see. For example, baseball players spitting mouthfuls of seeds, with little bits of the husk clinging to their mouth. Or worse, scratching themselves or "readjusting." You might spot someone in the crowd picking their nose. I find myself thinking that if I'm ever offered fantastic seats behind home plate or near the dugout, I'll have to decline so I don't embarrass my mother on national TV. HD also means that lip readers don't have work as hard to decipher the profanities that some players spew upon striking out. Ryan Braun, I'm talking about you.

Bowl games with stupid marketing names

I have been a sports fan my whole life. I remember watching the Rose Bowl with my father when I was 8. The next year, Michigan played in the Bluebonnet Bowl. It prompted me to ask my father for an explanation of bowl game selection and invitation process. I don't remember his explanation entirely, but I do remember that he was significantly LESS enthused about the Bluebonnet Bowl.

I became fascinated with bowl games. Now, while I enjoy the games, I am dismayed by the way that marketing has mucked around with the tradition. Look at how the Gator Bowl, started in 1945, has been tagged as the Mazda Gator Bowl, Outback Steakhouse Gator Bowl, Toyota Gator Bowl, Konica Minolta Gator Bowl, Progressive Gator Bowl, and now, the TaxSlayer Bowl. What a racket.

By the way, I'm glad I grew up when I did. I can't imagine getting an explanation of the BCS from my dad at age 8. At least now when I don't understand it, I'm an adult and it's not his fault.

Purposely misspelled business names

I'm a stickler for spelling, a fact to which many of my former students will attest. Don't tell them, but I do sympathize. The English language is confusing. On top of that, businesses try to be distinctive by "creatively" spelling their names and products. I think I'll take a quick trip to Kwik Trip to pick up some Krispy Kremes and then go home and plop in my La-Z-Boy to read the paper.

And there you have it! The 2014 edition of pet peeves. (And feel free to share yours in the comments section!)

Battles with nature

Ever have something happen that is so...bizarre–you can't quite explain it in a way that makes sense to someone else?

I often wake at the crack of dawn to the sound of pattering feet. Probably most people do, but this is different because I don't have kids or pets. Part of the roof above my bedroom is flat. There are huge trees on both sides of my house. I will often hear squirrels chattering and scampering across it. While it took some getting used to, there are worse ways to wake up.

But this morning, I heard some loud banging. I first thought that someone was at my door. Bleary- eyed, I stumbled out of bed to explore. Nope. I stumbled back to my room and took refuge under my warm covers, muttering about the mystery. No sooner did my head touch the pillow when the racket began again. I sat up, feeling like the noise was coming from the roof. What in the world? Frustrated, I rapped on my bedroom window. The knocking stopped. I opened the window and poked my head out, brandishing a Fisher Price flashlight shaped like a cow. (It moos when you press the button and the light shines out of the cow's mouth. A gift from my father.) 

Three huge black birds flew off the roof, squawking. Were they crows? Ravens? I have no idea. I don't know what was happening out there, but that didn't stop my speculation. I started by imagining that the squirrels have sent out their CSI unit to investigate a multiple homicide. Are there miscellaneous bones scattered on my roof? Then, a second unsettling thought occurred to me. Could the birds be mating? How do birds procreate? I should have paid more attention in biology. In the brief moment before I can Google "How do birds have sex?" and after I laughed about the idea of birds being delivered by storks, the most horrifying thought crossed my mind. Were the neighbors watching the crazy woman in sweatpants and a messy ponytail hanging out of the window pointing a toy at the roof?

No one told me being an adult would be like this. 

Cover art

Do you have Facebook? Would you like a perfectly sized cover photo? I've created some cover photos that feature some favorite Bible passages. Feel free to download and use. (Photos were taken by me, so there is no copyright infringement.) To download, right-click on the image and select Save Image As (or Save Picture As). Save it to your computer and upload it to Facebook.

Craftermath

Speaking of family celebrations, my sisters and I have one that has taken on a life of its own: Craft Night. It started about 10 years ago when my sister invited us over to her house to make gel candles. (These are the ones that supposedly explode. Wait. What? As if a candle wasn't incendiary anyway.) We had a blast. (HA!)

So recently, when my cousin Beth and my great-aunt Betty came to visit, it seemed a perfect opportunity to have Craft Night. After all, scissors + wine = good ideas! Not everything from Craft Night turns out as we hoped (see evidence below), but we always have fun anyway. Here's a snapshot of the aftermath.

Now that Beth is back home, she's decided to share the thrill and start her own Craft Night. Welcome to the dark side, Beth!

Introducing new family celebrations

My sister wrote about her obsession with crayons, which stems from an experience in our childhood. I can relate. It's funny how little things in one's formative years shape a person. If you are a vegetarian or a health nut, I strongly discourage you from reading this post.

>>> Side note: I feel a teeny bit bad for my parents. With eight adult children, their parenting goes under the microscope of the aforementioned children. Even now, at family gatherings, there is good-natured ribbing of my parents and their approach. But I digress. <<<

Here's the story of how an ugly scar on my psyche turned into a new family celebration. Growing up, my mother would occasionally make bacon and craft a BLT for my dad. However, my mother hated the way the greasy smell lingered, plus bacon was expensive, so she didn't usually cook enough for the Mongolian Horde (a term of endearment my father had for his passel of children). My siblings and I would salivate at the very smell of frying bacon. It's one of those things that cannot be cooked "undercover."  While Dad was eating his BLT, the rest of us were eating a sandwich also known by its initials, but decidedly less thrilling: PB&J.

Fast forward 25 years. I fried up three pounds of bacon and took it to a family brunch. My brother Paul, upon surveying the table laden with fruit, scrambled eggs, donuts, pastries and muffins, made this comment: "The proportion of bacon to donuts should be reversed." With the size of our family, it didn't take long for the bacon to disappear.

And so an idea was born: Baconfest. The official motto of this auspicious event is "Bacon for everyone." (Clever, right?) One Sunday in February, I invited my parents, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews over to my house after church for brunch. We had all the fixings (eggs, juice, fruit, etc.), but at the center of the table was a huge platter of bacon. Everyone, adults and children alike, helped themselves. No rationing for pint-size people! And because I have a huge family, the final total consumed was nine pounds of bacon.

It has become a popular (although infrequent) family tradition. Mom was right about one thing: the worst part of Baconfest is the smell afterwards. It takes about a week before my house smells normal.

Summer blockbusters

There were four movies that were on my summer 2013 must-see list. Star Trek Into Darkness, Man of Steel, The Lone Ranger, and Iron Man 3. As of last week, I've crossed three of them off my list.

I am a sci-fi fan and a Zachary Quinto fan. His portrayal of the intellectual Spock's deep emotional turmoil just below the surface gets me every time. (Yes, I have a little crush on him. I am partial to smart men.) Plus, I loved the 2009 reboot from J.J. Abrams, so I corralled a friend and went to see Star Trek Into Darkness first. I enjoyed it, but walked away wishing it would have made a little more sense.

Next on my list was Man of Steel. I have a soft spot for Superman and what he stands for (truth, justice, and the American way). I think he's my favorite superhero. I adored Christopher Reeve in the original Superman movie as a kid. I watched all ten seasons of Smallville. Now, I admire director Zack Snyder and have grown to appreciate his gritty interpretation of the Watchmen, but that didn't seem like Superman to me. Still, I was cautiously optimistic. I ended up disappointed. It felt a little too much like Transformers to me. Henry Cavill did a credible job in the title role, but it just wasn't what I expected.

You know how sometimes, you are hoping against hope that a review will be completely off the mark? I crossed my fingers and went to see The Lone Ranger. However, this movie was, to quote my father, "silly."  (I think that's a generous assessment.) Johnny Depp played Tonto with shades of Jack Sparrow, and the other characters were completely one-dimensional. You know it's a bad sign when you're looking for your watch to check the time during a movie. (Still, props to Gioachino Rossini, the composer of The William Tell Overture. Gives me chills, every time, even if the movie stinks.)

Oh, Iron Man 3, please don't disappoint me!