Welcome to my Life

The Stress Mess

2011-10-17T08:26:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I know for sure, life is messy.

Oh, sure, life fakes you out from time to time. Lets you think you've got things semi under control. You know the drill: The kids' school papers are signed, shots up to date, bills paid, laundry done and actually put away, proposal out (with no spelling errors), and life has settled into a reasonable facsimile of normal, with soccer games and actual family meals involving plates and silverware, when … BAM! The Unexpected.

As I said, messy. The theme of my life. And, I'm guessing, yours.
This summer was a particularity messy month. My father broke his hip--a difficult situation in itself, but when you add Alzheimer's into the mix, the mess quotient magnifies. No doubt, the memory of your own recent messy period is still fresh. Or maybe you're in the midst of one right now.

And the last thing you need is someone chirping about how you just need to look on the bright side and seek life balance. So I won't do that. Besides, I'm not the chirpy type. Is there even such a thing as life balance? Is it really possible to take care of yourself while juggling mounting crises in the midst of seemingly unbearable stress?

From my perspective, the answer is yes. And no. It all depends upon your definition of life balance. If it's a permanent state of non-stress and smooth sailing you're seeking, you're probably on a never-ending quest. But it is possible for mere mortals to field whatever life-mess is hurled at them this week and at the same time, stay (relatively) sane and healthy.

Breathe
I know, this sounds ridiculously simple. After all, if you were not doing this one thing, you would be, well, dead. But really, deep, thoughtful breathing can help. So can a bottle of wine, but let's start with breathing.

Different healing systems, from different cultures, have long understood the healing benefits of the breath. Yoga, Tai Chi and some forms of meditation embrace this philosophy, as well as most holistic practitioners. The belief is that breath is the link between the physical body and the ethereal mind, and that spiritual insight is possible through conscious breathing. (Spiritual insights are great, and that's on my to-do list, but most of the time, I'm deeply grateful for stress control and moments of tranquility. So is my family.)

Since you're reading this, you've evidently managed some base level of breathing proficiency. Way to go! But, for healing and stress reduction, not just any kind of breathing will do. Scientific studies have shown that it's correct breathing that helps manage stress and stress-related conditions. Yep, they say it soothes the autonomic nervous system. Evidently, autonomic-type systems are very needy. And nitpicky about how you breathe. So it's got to be deep, slow, and purposeful.

There's a whole bunch of physiology and science involved, but the only thing you really need to remember is this: If your abdomen gently moves in and out while you breathe, then you are breathing correctly. For you analytic types, who need to know more about how and why this work, Google it. You'll have more information than you know what to do with.

Take Stock
Ask yourself…What's really going on? Slow down and identify the one or two things that are making you feel scattered, exhausted or out of control. Focus on those. Most feelings of being overwhelmed stem from definable, core issues. Often, the hundreds of unrelated stresses we're buried under aren't unrelated at all. Find the underlying culprit.For me, this summer's culprit was sleep deprivation. Serious sleep deprivation. The stretches of days and nights at my father's bedside took a toll that was physical, emotional, and mental. I felt like one big, hideous bruise with eyes lodged somewhere in the back of my neck. At one point, I actually approached delusional. (Yes, even more than usual.)
So I got help from Synergy HomeCare, and my sister came into town to share in the caregiving. While the situation hadn't fundamentally changed and the challenges remained ongoing, they were now manageable. With sleep, I could once again function. My eyes now sit neatly in their sockets.Figure out what's really going on. And if you need help, for crying out loud, ask for it.

Laugh
It may seem counterintuitive to have fun and laugh when you are experiencing an enormous amount of stress, but really, isn't that exactly when you most need the healing, restorative powers of laughter? Laughter is free, easy and releases all sorts of groovy, natural drugs into your system. Besides, people will be more apt to want to be around you, ready and willing to lend a hand. Maybe they'll even interpret your good humor as strength of character and whisper glowing admirations of you behind your back.

Laugh? Easier said than done, you mutter at me through clenched jaw. Of course. I know that. But it does get easier with practice. More importantly, if you get out of the habit of laughing and seeing the humor in things, you begin to lose the capacity for it at all. Watch a comedy, get together with a fun friend and reminisce about something outrageously silly. If you can't steal the time for that, you can still find opportunities to laugh. They're everywhere. And forget about whether it's appropriate. It is. Remember how Mary Richards in "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" behaved at Chuckles the Clown's funeral? Laughter is good medicine.
There will always be unexpected rough patches in our lives. We can choose to have a pity party and get worn-down and sick and become even more ineffective and powerless. Or we can choose to assess situations, and take positive action on the things that are within our power to change.

What will you choose?

Time Warp

2011-08-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

It can’t be over. It just can’t be. It just got here.

I know it’s coming to an end by the activity at Wal-Mart (not that I shop there) and Office Depot. The abundant commercials on TV for Elmer’s glue and super- creative-cool- hot colored folders. The month on the calendar also clued me in.

Yesterday I golfed with a friend for the first time all year. It would have been obvious it was my first time out had you been there.

My brother recently remarked, “I roll over and look at the clock that says 6:00 A.M . and think, why even get up? The day is already gone.”

Time is going so fast.

It’s not that I waste time. Well, okay fine. I do. But still, everyone seems to have felt it this year. Especially if you live in Minnesota where summer comes and goes in the time in takes you to find the charcoal and light up the grill. It was cold. It was hot. It was hot again, Then, really, really hot. Then it rained. A lot.

Today it’s beautiful and instead of enjoying every single moment of it (like I tell my audiences to do), I am thinking about November and how I will get through it. I have great speaking engagements in September and October, but not one in November…when I need to get out of Dodge.

I know I should be outside and not writing this blog. But, I need to get it out of my system. Now I’ve dumped on you, my reader. I feel better though. So thanks.

I’d like to call an end to November. Let’s just have one day that month: Thanksgiving. Then we could slide right into December--- the month of Joy and celebration. Yes, we’ll have even less time, but it will be quality time.

Who’s with me?

The Friendship Factor

2010-12-13T16:23:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship lately. I’m blessed to have many good friends who care for me, who make me laugh and who encourage me to be the best I can be.

Then there are those friends who tell me things I really don’t want to know. They are the really good friends.

They are the friends who tell me things that I already know but I either A) Don’t want to talk about it, B) Don’t want to deal with it, or C) See A and B.

Oh, I don’t mind the occasional “meant to be helpful” comment such as: I don’t like your hair like that or, I think you’re a coffee snob. (Tell me something I don’t know about myself.) It’s the comments that make me think about myself--what I’m doing, or how I’m handling something that get to me. It’s the comments from my friends who really know me well and feel comfortable enough to verbally slap me into seeing a situation for what it is and then encouraging me to do something about it, that shows me they are good friends.

Here are a few recent examples:

Friend: “Have you scheduled the mammogram you said you would have a couple weeks ago?”
Me: “I will, I just have to take care of a few other things first...”
Friend: “I don’t want to hear that. I want you to pick up the phone and do it now. Capiche?

Friend: “So, what’s going on with your father for Thanksgiving? Have you demanded a sibling step up to the plate?”

Me: “I will but everyone is busy and...”

Friend: “Shut up and call someone, you can’t do everything all the time. Aren’t you a national speaker on this topic? Shouldn’t you practice what you preach?” (Ouch.)

And my favorite from a few years ago when I was in the thick of caregiving:

Friend: “You’re no fun anymore.” That one stung, but it did make me take action.

While most of us look to friends to support us and listen to our problems, great friends take it a step further--they try to help us. If you’re too defensive to have friends like that ... it’s too bad because I think they can help you to be a better, happier person. Certainly they can help you to become someone who is in less self-denial.

And for those “friends” who really aren’t’ trying to help but who can’t help criticize your choice of shoes, love of coffee or constant caregiving calls, they’re just mean. I drop ‘em like a hot potato. I don’t have the time or the interest anymore to be with toxic people.

As far as my ego goes-- I don’t need friends. I have children to keep me in check.

Life Balance is a Roller Coaster

2010-06-25T07:48:00.000-07:00

Every child of an aging parent grapples with the feeling she should be with their parent more. It’s a classic guilt smoothie.

Every working mother fights the feeling she should be at home with her child when she’s not home with her child.

When you are caring for children and caring for an aging parent—fasten your seat belt, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

But sometimes bumpy rides are the most fun. Do you see people lining up at their state fair to pay money to ride around the block in a smooth Cadillac? That smooth ride may be easy; it may not cause you any conflict or give you a bruise. But it probably won’t create a memory either.

I’ve had my fill of bumpy rides over the past 10 years—bumpy to the point of asking the sketchy carnie to stop the ride and let me off. And I’d be lying if I said I really liked all the memories the past years have created for me—the time my mom was diagnosed with cancer on her tongue; the time my dad told me he’d call the sheriff if I didn’t give him the car keys; the times my son forgot his lunch and his homework and his gym shorts and I had to drop them off when I was supposed to be at a meeting, the time my dad threw up in the car. But what I do know for sure (thanks for coining that phrase, Oprah) is that the bumps make life interesting. They create character and they peel back the onion of our lives to see what the core is. Sometimes, it makes you cry, often it smells, but the onion usually adds a lot of flavor too.

When you find yourself on the roller coaster of life—go along for the ride. But make sure your ride has a few fun moments—hugs and laughs and milkshakes—and that it’s not all scary. And that the carnival guy running the ride has a few teeth and doesn’t smell like whiskey.

And it’s always best to check the safety belt.

Faces of Caring photo contest!

2010-01-13T08:26:00.000-08:00

I just launched the contest: Faces of Caring, and the winning photos will be used to create a montage to go with the new song by Megon McDonough: Caring. The Kodak prizes--digital cameras, movie cameras and frames have arrived and I’m so excited to see all photo entries.

Thanks Kodak!

If I were a weepy, really sentimental person, I’d be vaclempt. But I’m not. (Well, occasionally while watching a Hallmark commercial). I’m just jazzed to see all the photos and how creative people are. You can check out the contest on my homepage: mollyspeaks.com

Synergy HomeCare, a home care company that provides companionship, respite care, bathing, errands (really everything that you would do for your loved one, if you could), is helping to sponsor this contest, so a big shout out to them!

If you care for someone, or know anyone who does—have them take a photo, who knows...you could win.

The deadline is March 1st, 2010, so get going!

Happy New Year!

Molly

Focus on Friends

2009-08-17T10:14:00.000-07:00

Last night I stopped at my friend Bill’s house for a glass of wine. Well, a bottle...
We talked and laughed about dozens of things—including how much we both liked coffee,to travel and our friends. Then we talked about his best friend who passed away last year.

Bill got out his friend’s eulogy book (why didn’t I ever put one together for my mother?) and as we drank wine and talked, I read him all the lovely, touching and funny pages from the book. Bill and I read out loud a lot to each other. It’s a gift to have a friend to read to... and if you’ve never done it, it’s not quite as weird as you think.

We went to Kent, England and stayed at Hole Cottage two year’s ago. It’s one remaining wing of a once-much larger hall house. It is hidden away in the middle of the countryside and is now owned by the Landmark Trust. You have to hike a bit to get there, but it’s worth it to be so far away from everything.

There's a pub about a mile away, which we walked to in the dark of night. We talked with the locals, had a fabulous dinner and a pint, and brought home brie cheese and bread for the morning. There is nothing better than the aroma of brie on warm crusted bread, served with French pressed coffee and savored while sitting at a 400 year- old kitchen table.

We made a fire one night and read to each other from the visitors’ log. No T.V, no phone, just the sound of the fire, an occasional fox bustling outside and our reading and laughter.

When we weren’t talking, we enjoyed the joy of complete and utter silence. Did you know you can actually hear silence? Maybe it’s more of a feeling, but it’s there... and it envelopes you like nothing else.

I’m lucky to have many friends. They all fill a different purpose in my life and seem to always be there when I need them. I hope I am there for them as well. I try.

Although I never personally met Bill’s friend (he was Italian and gorgeous) I had talked with him on the phone. I feel like I knew him. And I felt a bit of him in the room last night as I read the Eulogy Bill had written. Bill’s words invited me into their friendship and their experiences.

I wonder what my friends would write about me?

Things are Looking Up!

2009-05-08T06:59:00.000-07:00

I’ve been going through a tough time caring for my father. The day-in-day–out of it all is exhausting. Although I speak on happiness, laughter and perspective, I was beginning to lose mine. And my mind. Which as we all know, is a terrible thing to waste.

I took steps yesterday to hire paid help and to give me more time for my home and my work. Then, as serendipity would have it, Michael J. Fox’s special was on and I actually had time to watch it! The documentary, based on his memoir, Always Looking Up, was the best TV I’ve watched in a very long time. His wide-ranging program "isn't prescriptive," Fox was telling a reporter earlier this week in his office on Manhattan's Upper East Side. "I just need to express myself, because that's what I do. It's the only way I can live my life: to embrace the possibilities, instead of fear the realities.”

What a great quote.

I encourage everyone to watch his show. To take time away from Fox (the news, not the person), CNN and the nightly shoot ‘em up broadcast that makes up our local news. Spend more time on positive messages, with positive people and surround yourself with positive energy.

See how you feel.

Watch Michael J. Fox’s documentary and I promise you it will rekindle your passion and make you think about how you see the world.

At the very least, it’s a show where no one gets shot.

Who knows, maybe this documentary will have a play-it-forward effect and we’ll start to see a new ripple of optimism.

Can’t hurt. Could help.

My Virtual Reality

2009-04-15T09:33:00.000-07:00

Just yesterday I couldn’t do anything more technical than turn on the dishwasher, but today I am a member of Second Life. I have an avatar. And with the help of Gina Schreck, a friend and tech expert in Second Life virtual reality, I will be teaching a writing course in this format.

I know, it’s weird. But here is what I’ve learned about this unique other world:

(Straight from their website)

“Hundreds of leading universities and school systems around the world use Second Life as a vibrant part of their educational programs. Linden Lab works enthusiastically with education organizations to familiarize them with the benefits of virtual worlds, connect them with educational peers active in Second Life, and showcase their inworld projects and communities.

“A large, active education community—with hundreds of K-12 and higher education members—are engaged in Second Life. The Open University, Harvard, Texas State, and Stanford are just a few of the many universities that have set up virtual campuses where students can meet, attend classes, and create content together.”

How could I not be a part of that? Even though “that” was a bit undefined, since “virtual world” seemed a bit like the Twilight Zone, without the responsibilities of real world laundry.

So, armed with a glass of Merlot, two helpful and understanding trainers, and a sense of humor, I spent three hours setting up. I created an identity, clothing for my avatar, walked into people, and I flew. (I spent a lot of time doing this, because, seriously, who wouldn’t?) I learned gestures and became more and more excited to use this medium to teach some classes and connect in a new way. It’s a cross between Wii and Sims, but different.

Aren't you glad I could clear that up?

My parents always thought I was “in my own little world,” and now I can prove them right.

To learn more about my writing class or more about Second Life, feel free to shoot me an e-mail at Mcoxziton@comcast.net. Or let me know if you would like to receive my newsletter: Coffee talk with Molly. The newsletter I send out on a very regular basis, or …whenever I feel like it.

Cheers!
Molly Cox and Molly Batista (My Avatar)

Red Pens For Everyone!

2009-02-02T07:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went out with a friend and complained to her about the newsletters and updates we get from school that inevitably have misspellings. A misplaced comma or an apostrophe that screams: I never learned to write but was lucky enough to get a job in the school system!

Then she shared that the principal at her school sends out letters with misspellings. The principal! (Remember it's spelled with an "al" because the principal is your "pal." Not a great writer, but your pal.)

This really makes me mad. Mad enough to send red pens out to every single parent(who can spell and who knows how to use proper grammar) so that they can wield them on school letters, notices and strep throat alerts and send them back ...to be corrected.

I'm not perfect,(as though I have to point this out; I have children who do that for me.) But serioulsy, isn't there someone on staff who can proofread? This is communication coming from school. I don't think I should be using notices from school for English curriculm at home.

"Honey, we just received a letter from school! Now find the mistakes and show me." (Rustle of paper, scratch of pen.) "Wow, so many this time, good work!"

I do hope things improve once all the red pens are distributed and the notices returned. I hope we can find money in the budget for third grade English books for the administrators and principals to use, for you know, English as a second language.

And I hope that our next generation learns to spell, write and communicate. I know it's difficult. We have a nation of kids who think it's okay to send their holiday thank you notes in a text message. Dude, thank u for t GC. I used it.

I can't wait to see the letters that come home with children 10 years from now. We'll have a school system made up of teachers who grew up texting.

Thrs ben a cse of Strep @ schl.
Word.
The Principle.

Maybe it's not that bad and I should concentrate on the really important things in life-- like feeding the poor, taking care of the elderly, and finding a cure for cancer in the Rain Forest.

Or finding jobs! There must be thousands of proofreaders out there who need jobs.

Now there's a job stimulus plan.

Appreciating our Caregivers

2008-11-13T11:08:00.000-08:00

Next week I’m going to deliver the closing keynote at the Caregivers Association Annual conference. In my audience will be five hundred people who truly make a difference. My dear friend, Megon McDonough is singing her song: Amazing Things right after my speech. She’s Amazing!

It’s important work because we will be there to thank them, congratulate them and motivate them. I think of it as a sort of USO event. And I’m really excited. There will be several staff members from my father’s assisted living facility, The Commons on Marice. I see these people every day when I care for and visit my father. They’re always smiling. They inspire me.

And now, I must inspire them.

Thanking them will be easy, creating a congratulatory presentation will be a cakewalk, but the inspiration part… well, let’s just say, I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating what I’m going to say, researching and watching. And some days there simply are no words.

I’ll keep you posted as this presentation changes by the moment. But for now, I’ll have to sign off so I can order the remainder of the animals for the parade and the ticker-tape.

Gettin'Geeky

2008-10-30T14:34:00.000-07:00

Gettin’Geeky with Gina Schreck

I have a friend who’s a geek. Not in the looks department. She sports no mechanical pencil or taped glasses. In fact she’ll even admit she has pretty fabulous hair. She’s a geek in the, well, geek department. Twitter, cell phones, I Pods…whathaveyou.

My friend (Gina Schreck) has a new “Getting’Geeky” show and it’s on Blip.tv. You can learn about new gadgets and applications by watching her short video segments. Here you’ll find out about all sorts of cool gadgets and ways to get things done smarter, faster and often fashionably. And the best part of it is that she makes it simple and gives you the most important information right up front. Information such as-- do you have to be smarter than a 5th grader to use it?

Recently she featured Jott.com and I was all over it! The opening of her segment (segment #2) started with her sipping smooth, flavorful, coffee with an exotic earthiness. It was my Friend Blend signature coffee, which made that particular video clip fun. And it proves that she knows what she’s talking about. Seriously, if she’d take the time to get the best coffee, packaged in the cutest packaging, don’t you think she would also show due diligence in other areas of her life?

It turns out I now have to send her shipments of coffee. That’s okay. It’s a fair trade for all the geek advice I’m getting. And, if she was drinking some crappy coffee…her show wouldn’t be as good.

I just can’t let that happen.

Go to: http://blip.tv/file/1406338

One can never, ever have too much coffee

2008-09-02T08:09:00.000-07:00

In this short presentation, I learned that it's going to be okay for me to have memory loss.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9iMgSNrwv4

Click on Link to watch The National Speakers Association Red Carpet interview in NY.

2008-08-22T09:24:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-omZJn-4GL8

It's How You See Things

2008-07-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

Garrison Keilor recently delivered a keynote at the Erma Bombeck Writers Conference. During the Q & A he was asked: “Is it hard to write humor when bad things happen in your life?” Before he even answered, I laughed. What? It’s the best time.

He said, “It’s great when you’re depressed. Why would you even want to write humor if you’re in a good mood?” Which made me laugh again. I get it. Give me a really horrible situation, something in my family, or the world, something unbelievable, incomprehensible, such as a new patch of cellulite developing on my thigh. I’ll think it’s funny. Well, what am I supposed to do? Go buy a $437 jar of cream that doesn’t work?

The best humor comes from life. It’s not jokes or prefabricated stories. It’s everyday life. Bill Cosby has a long hilarious bit about his root canal. Chris Rock talks about racism. And Ellen DeGeneres finds humor in well, every hardship she’s ever had.

It seriously bugs me when people don’t have a sense of humor. I get concerned.
What’s going to happen if something really bad happens? How will they make it through?

I write humor for a living. I really do try to look at things through humor colored glasses—and often that takes a little time. But eventually, almost everything is funny. Although honestly, I’m not yuckin’ it up about the cellulite like I said I was.

Some things are truly sad.

____

Work/ Life Balance-- Hire a Coach!

2008-05-30T06:38:00.000-07:00

I just read an article in the Miami Herald about a new trend called, Parent Coaches: For parents who have difficulty raising their children.

That’s a pretty big niche market.

You can get help with everything from thumb sucking, to bratty teen- age behavior. From sassy, disrespectful, dirty- laundry- lugging college students to biting, Lego throwing toddler Rambo’s. A personal Dr. Spock consultation.

Turns out that a lot of parents can run multi- million dollar companies, but they’re at a loss at home.

That’s because (generally speaking) you don’t have to take care of your co- workers diarrhea, night terrors or deal moment- to- moment with their new found pronunciation of the word, “no.” It’s because your boss doesn’t come into bed with you at 3 AM, crying.. (Again, generally speaking.)

And honestly, do you care if the people you work with eat their vegetables?

I’m not saying that I couldn’t have used a coach with my daughter. Although I’m convinced there were times an exorcist would have done the trick. Or, that I couldn’t use some help with my son and his need to leave wrappers and trash around the house, a trail of his every move as evidence he lives in this house-- but it seems to me that all a parent coach does is … give power back to the parents. Where it should have been all along.

How did we get so far away from that one idea? We are the parents.

Great leaders make tough decisions. Business people get things done and shell out consequences to both their peers and subordinates. There are similarities between what we do at work and home, just different vernacular. For instance, at work, a “time out” would be more like an unpaid leave of absence. “You’re grounded for life” would be “you’re now working in the mailroom.”

Great parents make tough decisions everyday. It’s hard work and it’s exhausting.
The pay stinks.

In the words of Erma Bombeck, if your child doesn’t scream the words, I HATE YOU, at least once in their life, you haven’t done your job.

There’s another thing to consider when wondering why home life is so much more difficult than work life. You don’t love, with all your being, your co-workers,
boss or shareholders.

Well, unless you’re one who let’s them crawl into bed with you at 3AM.

Bragging Rights

2008-04-12T09:29:00.000-07:00

Last week my brother Chris (U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) chairman) earned USC’s highest award for alumni accomplishment. My father, who is 87 years old, earned something as well: his diploma.

During World War II my father (Charles) was a USA senior preparing to graduate when duty called. On his graduation day in June 1943 he was on a shipboard headed for the Philippines, where he joined allied forces in Operation Cartwheel, aimed at isolating the major Japanese base in New Guinea. My father never received his diploma.

So, before presenting the university’s highest award for alumni achievement, USC President Steven B. Sample surprised an audience of nearly 550 and honored my father with the diploma. Something my father had waited 63 years for.

To roaring applause and a standing ovation, Sample handed my father the leather case.

And then something funny happened.

When my father opened the sophisticated leather case, it didn’t contain the diploma. It held a letter congratulating and honoring him with the leather case, the actual diploma would arrive “soon.”

My father raised one eyebrow, turned the case around for President Sample to read. President Sample read it out loud, laughed and said, “63 years and a couple of weeks.”

You can’t write this stuff.

Needless to say, I’m proud of Chris for earning such a great award. He’s an amazing man. But I’m especially proud of the fact that he made “His” night about my father, who obviously stole the show. Tears, laughter, applause…
Good stuff. The stuff memories are made of.

My father has Alzheimer’s and probably doesn’t remember the night. But he was there, in the moment and enjoying every bit of it.

So, each day I’m with my father, I show him the case and retell the story. And he gets to live it again.

In a world of MTV, a psycho- prostitute- soliciting- Governor, and Middle East extremists who hate America, I find this reassuring. There are good people in this world. And they are in my family.

2008 Caucus-- A lot like the 1600's

2008-02-10T07:05:00.000-08:00

I attended my caucus Tuesday night. Of course I wanted to cast my vote, but I also wanted to present a resolution for increased funding for Alzheimer’s disease research. Maybe the government keeps forgetting…

America is great. We have gadgets and gizmos the size of rice and yet, at our caucus we were greeted by a man inching into his 90’s who ripped small bits of green paper (pilfered from the high school English room supply drawer?) and handed them to each of us. We wrote down who we wanted and he put our votes into an envelope, which he held in his other hand.

A substantial sneeze would have sent that envelope up in the air like a Roman candle. We would have all jumped to help clean up, snatched the candidate votes we didn’t want and shoved them in our pocket. I was waiting for that to happen. The guy had a cold.

The entire event was very secure and technical. At this level, hanging chads would have been a relief. It simultaneously worried and amused me.

The caucus started and we were called on the take positions. Asking us to do the downward facing dog would have been more productive. Not a lot of hands shot up. Luckily one of the neighborhood boys volunteered to lead the rest of the meeting. I think he was 11.

It was a great turnout. Someone even brought muffins, which says a lot about my district. I think the job got done.

I hope the one with the most votes won.

Update

2008-01-22T07:32:00.000-08:00

Okay, first of all, I know I need to write more Blog postings. Thanks to all who have written me and shown your support. I’m on it for 2008. Seriously.

And to those of you who are less supportive and more snarky about wanting more Blog postings. OKAY-- I’m on it.

It’s not like I’m not writing, people. I’m wrapping up my novel (finally) and I’m going to send it to my agent the first week of February. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, I’ll be pacing around my kitchen drinking VATS of coffee and wondering, “Why hasn’t she called? Doesn’t she like it? Did I screw up a prepositional phrase?”

I write articles and the humor column for the National Speakers Association Minnesota newsletter. I write speeches for my clients’ and sometimes a sketch
here and there, so …I’m not a complete slacker. Just a Blog slacker.

Get over it.

2008 will be better Blog year for me. I feel it.

Cheers.

Molly

A Banner Year!

2007-11-16T08:50:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is just around the corner and I am once again blessed. I’m not hosting dinner.

I’m not hosting Christmas this year either. Which makes it a double-whammy year for me—I get to add hundreds of hours to my work schedule. Hours that would have been spent cleaning. Then cleaning some more until everything was spotless and you could eat off the floor-- which, according to my mother is the measure of a clean floor. Perhaps our relatives ate off the floor at one time and she had those memories, like people have who have lived through the depression and hoard everything.

Last year, I cleaned until all surfaces and crevices glistened. I walked into the dining room only to find that the dog had wrestled with the seventy-six dollar fall centerpiece on my polished table. He’d also eaten much of it-- as evidenced by the vomit on the freshly cleaned area rug under my once spotless table.

I’ve never understood how people could cook everything and also have their house clean. It’s really one or the other to me. Even if you have cleaning help, it’s the hours right before people arrive that set the disasters in motion: The garbage disposal breaks, the cat jumps on the counter and licks the turkey, forcing you to serve Kentucky Friend chicken to 18 guests. The vacuum spits the last several weeks cleaning on your carpet—the carpet you are quickly doing the “spiff clean” on before people arrive.

But not this year. I’ll whip up a salad for a couple dozen people while I enjoy my morning coffee. I’ll watch my son chase the dog around the dining room. I’ll laugh and enjoy the happiness it brings him instead of screaming like a crazed Martha Stewart. “PEOPLE ARE COMING IN ONE HOUR… GO SIT IN THE CLOSET AND DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!”

I’ll look in the bathroom and notice that all of the towels I just creased and put on the rack, ever-so-welcoming, are now soiled and crunched up. And it won’t bother me.

Yes, it’s a good year. I’m not hosting.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Weeee! We bought a Wii!

2007-09-03T06:59:00.000-07:00

We don’t have an X-box. We’re not big fans of video games –we don’t want
our son to be some testosterone, he-man, aggressive teen.

So, we have him in football.

As much as I dislike video games, I really can’t stand the whining, crying and
moping around the house --the constant complaints that there’s nothing to do—and that’s just from my husband.

I surveyed the house and I too realized, there was simply nothing to do. I stored all the board games, put the foosball table away, cleared out the tennis racquets, golf clubs, the 126 basketballs, footballs and Frisbees, I wedged the soccer net into the corner of the garage, and folded up the huge basketball hoop in the driveway. I put the Swing Away and the Perfect Pitch in their boxes. I packed up the art supplies, took away the talking globe, the baseball card collection, and even dismissed the yo-yo’s and water guns. I started to get weepy
while taking down my son’s dart board.

So many memories of doing absolutely nothing.

There would be no more nights of Texas Hold-‘em around the kitchen table, or 21 questions during dinner. No kick-the-can with the neighbor kids, or walks with the dog. Creating a home with nothing to do also meant dismantling the fire pit in the back yard where we roasted marshmallows with his friends. If this house was declared as a place where there was nothing to do, so be it.

It was clear he was right, the only way we could have any fun was to get a Nintendo Wii. So, my son, the fiscal conservative, bought one with his own money.

Suddenly, there was a lot to do and tons of kids to do it with! It turned out (and I found this shocking), that the entire world, which included every single child in his school, didn’t have a Wii. My son must have been mistaken.

Okay, truthfully, it’s fun. The cow racing alone is worth the money (my son’s money) and my sweet little cherub gets so much satisfaction at beating me and then using excessive celebration techniques, learned from the NFL, to demean me, what mother wouldn’t melt with emotion at seeing her boy so happy?

The only thing wrong with the game is that the characters—who are created to look like the players--win by jumping up and down, or lose by hanging their head in a very sad, defeated manner. (Think Saddam Hussein on the cell phone video). I am most familiar with the loser position and let me tell you, after awhile, it actually begins to affect you.

The game should come with a prescription for Prozac.

A major benefit to the Wii is that it’s more compact than a ping-pong table! (Except for the wide-screen TV you have to play it on.) So when there’s nothing to do in the future, including playing the boring Wii, it will be easier to toss.

Clueless in Cosmetics

2007-07-28T20:36:00.000-07:00

Clueless in Cosmetics
a tribute to shopping with Peggy

My friend Peggy is one of the funniest people I know. Together we think
we are hysterical. Sometimes we can barely look at each other without falling onto the floor and rolling around in fits of laughter. Okay, not rolling around. But almost rolling around.

Not everyone thinks we are as funny as we think we are.

This is why we should not have gone to the Bobbie Brown counter for side-by-side makeovers. Our salesperson, let’s just call her Gidget, (darling and sweet a--double whammy for a makeup gal) was more than a tad horrified by the insults we tossed back and forth like so many brushes of blush.

Peggy watched the woman carefully apply base (okay, tinted moisturizer) to my face–no actual base, because, Gidget said, and I can barely write this without laughing—I had beautiful skin. This put Peggy and me over the edge, as we had just spent 15 minutes looking in the mirror, horrified.

I have an age spot the size of Iraq.

“Well, could you put the ‘tinted moisturizer’ a little heavier on her beautiful age spots?” Peggy asked. “And fill in under her eyes with spackle.”

At this point the “You Are Beautiful From the Inside,” lecture began—this, from a 23-year-old with skin that would make Snow White look weathered. This poor woman didn’t know she was preaching to a motivational speaker and a cynical Northwest Airlines flight attendant. A wicked combination.

We didn’t shut up. We couldn’t stop laughing. We started to draw a crowd.

An elderly and exceedingly made-up saleswoman commented, “How much have you girls had to drink?” We’d been at the Nordstrom Café having coffee and a salad. If she wanted to see how we behaved after drinking, well, she would have had to have been in college in 1979 during our “hang-from-the-balcony” escapade, when the police…

Well, anyway, we hadn’t been drinking.

It’s great fun to have your makeup applied by a beauty consultant. Especially when you have nowhere to go, so if you end up looking like a hooker/clown/State Fair Freak Show exhibit, no biggy. But as much as I enjoy the makeup counter and I enjoy Peggy’s company, quite possibly the two shouldn’t go together.

I learned that it’s impossible to part your lips for lipstick application when you’re laughing. Really. Just try it. The minute Gidget came at me with the “gloss wand” I lost it again. Maybe it was because Peggy was mouthing the words “gloss wand” in an exaggerated English accent. It took the poor woman 10 minutes to do my lips. I think I spit-laughed on her twice.

We made it worth her while. Two hours and much hilarity and hi-jinx later, I spent a lot on makeup from Bobbie Brown. Peggy bought the tinted moisturizer. And Gidget did her damnest to get us to love ourselves—from the inside.

The next time I have a spare 47 minutes to apply my expensive makeup, I’ll put on all my Bobbie Brown. Until then, it will sit in my cabinet and remind me how much fun a woman can have without drinking.

Spring baseball or work? A mother must choose.

2007-05-22T20:44:00.000-07:00

Work or baseball? A mother must choose.

On Friday afternoons working mothers everywhere IM each other from their warm, decorated cubicles: “TGIF.” They actually look forward to their weekends at home with the kids.

Those mothers do not have children who play traveling baseball in Minnesota.

I dream about working. I fantasize about where to start with a new speech, fret about my back pain from sitting at my computer too long and even think about …filing. Yes, filing. Because when I file (and let’s be clear, I detest this task) it’s done in the warmth of my office. A baseball game in the spring is played outside. In Minnesota weather, that can mean a nice May day feels like it’s 20 below. Like Sunday’s game. A great deal of the film “The March of The Penguins” was shot in warmer weather.

Sundays, devoted mothers of 12-year-old boys who have watched game after game after game have cheered their son’s on-- prayed that their team would lose so they would be kicked out of the tournament and they could go home. Okay, maybe that was just me. Still…

One mother sat in a lawn chair with a stolen blanket (from a child she deemed warm enough) pulled tightly over her head. She supported the team, but didn’t watch the game. It was simply too cold. Plus, she had worn flip-flops and a cute outfit because yesterday she was dripping with sweat-- it was in the upper 80s.

Flip-Flops, winter boots…hmmm what to wear to spring baseball?

At the Key’s restaurant after the game, some of the mothers came up with the perfect excuse to get out of baseball on those frigid days of the month of (let’s just pick, June) when we don’t want to dress like Inuits with poor taste. We will look at our sons with our devoted, sad eyes, ala Puss n’ Boots from Shrek, and say—“Oh honey, I can’t make it. I have to work.”

And then we’ll gleefully start filing in our warm offices.

Professional Women

2007-04-29T09:30:00.000-07:00

I spoke at the Professional Assistants' Day conference in Alexandria the other day. There were 175 women in the audience. If ignited, the amount of estrogen in that room could have blown up the Mall of America.

Women's programs are the most fun for me to do. They get my jokes, they do my improv exercises, they buy my products...and I get paid. But the best part is that these women know how to have a good time. I overheard one audience member say, "My boss paid for me to be here so I'm going to have a good time." I wanted to hire her to be a professional audience member. I just kissed her and left it at that.

I lead an improv exercise around the concept of "Yes...And!" Which teaches the principle of agreement. The groups were to come up with a made-up product and then build on it. There were to be no bad ideas.

The"Boob Holder Upper" was by far the winner. This contraption made the Victoria Secret Miracle Bra look like something from Toys R Us. (My computer doesn't make backwards R's--get over it.) The woman who shard the group's invention could have done an infomercial that would rival The Magic Bullet. She's probably been scooped up by the State Fair by now and is no longer a professional assistant.

The "Boob Holder Upper" led me into my joke about aging and how eventually we will be able to do a breast exam with our toes. There were several older women in the front of the audience who didn't laugh; they had been doing that for years. Note to Self: Know your audience.

The great thing about this organization was that it was made up of a group of women who had the word "professional" before their title. You don't see a lot of professions like that, do you?
Professional President of the United States? Professional Pope? Professional lawyer? Nope.
These women knew they were professionals and didn't have to prove it to each other. They were there not only to learn, but to have fun!

God bless women and their capacity for connection and humor. And God bless that group who came up the with the "Boob Holder Upper." I'm going to have it patented and then hire the woman from my audience to do the infomercials.

After all, she's a professional.

Look What I Found!

2007-03-21T06:59:00.000-07:00

Look What I Found!

I can’t help thinking about a conversation I recently had with friends. The question put to the merlot-laden table was: Do you go through people’s medicine cabinets when you’re visiting their home?

The overwhelming response: “Hell, yes.”

First, you should know that these weren’t just neighbors and friends from my cul-de-sac (I know they would rifle though my cabinets faster than Britney Spears can check in and out of rehab), these were “professional colleagues.” These were the kind of friends you make as an adult, who didn’t know you back when you used to skip high school to smoke cigarettes and drink bad coffee at the pancake house. These were people who may potentially have been woven from a tighter moral and ethical fabric than your life-long friends-- the ones you love despite their character flaws.

But it turns out, most of us are the same. We’re all curious (read: snoopy) about how other people live. Is Suzie as “balanced” as she appears?” Is Ed as together as he comes off in his best-selling book? Is Trudy really that wrinkle-free, or is there a tell-tale tube of Mederma in her cabinet? We want to know where we fit in on the scale of 1-10 (as in, normal = 1, to they’re coming to take me away, ha ha ho ho = 10).

Medicine cabinets give us a glimpse into our friends’ “other world.” The world that they don’t want you in. The stuff of life.

I would caution you though that there are a few people (eg. me) who are well prepared when hosting a party and make sure the only thing that jumps out is a well-placed vitamin C bottle and some luxuriously fragrant facial cream. But then, I’m the sort of person who would just tell you whatever you wanted to know. No need to dig.

If you are the type who takes time to “look,” be aware you might find something you really, really didn’t want to know about—like anti-serial killer pills, or an eye- of-newt remedy for a deadly contagious airborne virus. What do you do with that information? Do you tell someone, “Well, I was snooping through Bella’s cabinet when I came across…” ?

Too much information can be a real burden. But then it seems that sometimes it can give you just the edge you need to build your self-esteem and put a sneaky little, I- know-something- you- don’t- know smile on your face. Isn’t that why people do it?

Regardless of where you fall in the snoop category-- based on my
teeny, tiny and telling little survey…you probably have someone going through your cabinets each time you have people over.

With that, I must go dust my Vitamin C bottle. I’m having people over tonight.

Molly Cox