Saturday, September 16, 2017

I'm Rubber and You're Glue

When I was a kid, sometimes we would go to the drive-in movie.  There was always a double feature.  A kid friendly show earlier in the evening and a scarier, more grown-up show when that was over.  Everyone had a station-wagon or a pick-up truck then, not a van.  The fare was for the whole car load, making it affordable to take the whole family.  We’d put the seats all down and make a bed in the back of the ugly gold Dodge wagon.  After the animated feature the other show would play and the kids would be sound asleep.  I remember seeing Sleeping Beauty there and being terrified of Maleficent.  I also remember a John Wayne picture, Rooster Cogburn, that I was probably supposed to be asleep for because it gave me nightmares, but I loved John Wayne.  When our own children were small, we’d take them to the drive-in movie, too, but our little kids called it the drive-out movie because they remember being awakened from the back of our Subaru and being put back in their car seats and buckled up to drive out and go home.

I think most people and even children were smart enough to know that the movie played on the outdoor screen did not originate from the screen itself.  The screen was merely a blank canvas that the film was played upon, the picture projected from a projector in a nearby building.  Even the sound did not come from the screen.  The clunky metal speaker had to be hooked onto a partially rolled-down car window.  By the time our kids were small, we would just tune our car radio to the station and play the sound through the car stereo, but there was a time when the sound came through the ugly gray speaker sitting next to your dad’s ear.  If the projector guy had trouble with the film, there would be a delay and you’d have to go swing on the swings and get more popcorn at the Snack Bar while waiting for it to be repaired.  

Projection.  That’s what I’m talking about.  As in coming from another source—the film projector as an example, and shown on something else---like the movie screen.  Just like the movie doesn’t come from inside the screen, the things people project onto each other do not emanate from the person it’s attached to, but from the source it’s being projected from.  We all do it, not even meaning to and most of the time it’s just the realness of being mortal that makes it occur.  An example is the tired mommy who’s been up all night with a sick child.  She might project her fatigue and headache onto the grocery store clerk the next day when she goes to buy diapers.  If the clerk isn’t fast enough or doesn’t bag the groceries correctly, the tired mother might make a retort or even cry.  But, it’s coming from her and not the clerk.  It’s not the clerk’s fault that she’s worn out and foggy.  

This is a typical example of what we all do when we’re sick or tired or even have had a bad day at work or school.  It’s not justified, but it’s understandable.  It’s wise to not to take our stress out on other innocent people who don’t even know why we’re so rough around the edges.  The kind of projection I want to talk about here is more serious, what seems to me to be a blatant refusal to accept one’s denial about personal choices and mantras and instead, choosing living and breathing targets to project garbage onto, sometimes using a sling-shot.  And rocks.  And broken glass.

Remember the old recess chant, “I’m rubber and you’re glue—your words bounce off me and stick on you?”  That’s about projection.  I was in my studio cutting some glass this week for a new stained-glass piece and it struck me as I was using my trusted can of rubber cement that this type of glue is so useful in a project like mine because the cement actually becomes rubber and rolls off easily after it’s almost dry.  It doesn’t leave any  marks and it’s not permanent.  It works wonderfully for glass because after I’ve attached my pattern pieces to use as a guide for cutting the glass pieces into precisely the right sizes and shapes, the paper can be peeled off and the glue washed away from the glass, leaving it ready to be foiled and soldered and connected to other glass pieces, turning it into a beautiful window.  But not all glue is rubber cement.  There is super glue and Elmer’s glue, Gorilla glue and school paste.  Just about every kind of glue for your gluing needs.  Many are permanent and strong.  Some will even glue your fingers together if you’re sloppy in the application.   

Why was that little rhyme about glue and rubber chanted on playgrounds?  Bullying.  That is why.  When a mean kid would say something mean, because that’s what mean kids do is say mean words, the other kid would yell back with the “I’m rubber” thing, as if to galvanize himself from the sticky insults.  It meant that the criticism or name-calling returned from whence it came—that it held no power over the “rubber” kid and eventually found its way back to its “glue” kid, where it rightfully belonged.  Don’t you see this happening everywhere? True bigots calling other people who are nothing like bigots, bigots.  Substitute other words here like “racist” and that works also.  One of my favorites is “hater.”  It’s usually yelled at someone in a strong declaration such as “hey, you hater!”  It’s never gently suggested that someone might actually hate someone else.  It’s always attached with some form of vengeance and rage.  Who is really the “hater?”  

Let me tell you about something that recently happened to me.  I learned that someone I always held in high esteem had done something that deeply disappointed me.  This person had made threats toward people whom they deemed did not share a certain political view.  When this person admitted to me what had been threatened, it caught me off-guard, because in my own heart, I knew that I did not share this political view.  And, this was a horrible and nonsensical threat.  Did they mean to also harm or insult me?  My children?   My husband?  After some discussion, I confirmed that because this person views me as a “religious” person, I am automatically guilty of a long list of crimes of hate and bigotry and general intolerance, just because I go to church and admit that I need and want God in my life.  In fact, if you look at the facts, the people who most exemplify this particular view in personal conduct and consumer choices is actually my own little family.  The accuser is actually the worst example of living this kind of life and their consumer choices and personal habits testify to exactly the opposite of what they verbally profess each day.  

I’m rubber, you’re glue……..   The person is really calling himself or herself what they are calling me or you.  It’s because they know they are living a lie and it’s eating them up inside so they have to attach it to someone else for their own personal relief.  But Karma is Karma and well, rubber, so what you throw at Karma, it throws back on you.  

Look, I get it that we live in troubled times, but I don’t buy that people have to behave the way they do.  We don’t have to loot businesses after elections and hurricanes.  We don’t have to give into playing the race card and then blame it on the people we don’t think understand us, but who we make no effort to understand.  We don’t need to project our own insecurities onto other people just because we fear they have a better life or job or home or opportunity than we do.  We don’t have to undermine authority and then complain about lack of leadership.  We have to stop judging people and that means getting really honest about the fact that we all do it.  One group of people can’t yell “hater” to another group without owning the hate.  One side can’t claim “bigotry” without being bigots themselves.   And nobody can force anyone else to draw or paint or say or sing or feel or think  or write what someone else says they should.  

The projecting has got to stop.  It’s one thing to have a headache and snap at someone in line ahead of you.  It’s another thing to try to take away someone’s religious freedom or freedom of speech simply because you don’t practice religion or even know how to speak.   Can you see how stupid that is?  It’s like me saying that if I don’t like green beans and never want to eat them or even see them on my plate again, that nobody, no one, no person, can ever, in the history of time going forward, eat, smell, plant, grow, harvest, prepare, cook or even see a green bean.  Because I said so.  Because I have the corner on the “I hate green beans” market.  If you don’t believe in God and don’t want to go to church---don’t.  But, you have to let me believe in God and go to church.  If I want to help refugees and you don’t, then don’t, but don’t tell me I can’t.  If I enjoy reading and you don’t, then don’t read, but you have to let me read.  

Some of the worst projecting I see is the projecting that women do to other women.  If I know how to put an outfit together and you don’t, maybe you could either learn and let me teach you or just leave it be.   If you aren’t doing what’s necessary to maintain your testimony of Jesus Christ and the scriptures, please don’t project that onto me and criticize me for what you really know you should be doing too.  If your husband is unfaithful to you or you are unfaithful to your husband and you’re feeling alone or guilty, please don’t make it my problem and project your choices and experience onto me just because I’m happily married.  If your kids are disrespectful, lazy, and angry because you never want to be home and you secretly resent being a mother, please don’t minimize my experience and my passion by mocking motherhood and the importance of teaching children just so you can make yourself feel better.  And idleness?  Well, it really is the devil’s playground.  So if the devil is afoot in your life, take a look at your idleness level and ask yourself whether or not you're really seeking out virtue, but don’t blame me.  

Look, here’s the deal.  I feel plenty low about myself enough on a regular basis not to need any help from any of you.  For those of you who think everything is perfect in my life, you might want to know that I struggle with feeling healthy enough every day to just do the minimum tasks required to stay registered as a breathing human being.  I’m just a person like you, trying to do my best every day to work hard, be a good wife and mother, learn new things, discover new talents, laugh and smile, make memories with my family, and find out what it is God truly wants me to do with my life.  I give you credit for doing the same, which is your best.  Surely there must be something on which we can all agree.   

But one thing is certain.  I am not your movie screen.  I am not your rubber throwing mat for your nasty clumps of glue.  If you don't like how I live my life or speak or bear my testimony at church or even how I've raised my family and what I believe about marriage, then don't pay attention to me or read my blog or buy my art.  I don't watch or listen to things that perturb me.  So if I anger you by being me, well, that's you're problem and not mine.  I'm not a movie screen, I'm not a punching bag, and I'm not a door mat.  I will say what I want and when, I will believe what I choose and not apologize, and I will stand up for my beliefs and my rights.  I also make you a promise.  I will not, and I do not, use harsh words, call you names, gossip about you behind your back, and dis-invite you from my life because we might see things differently.  I won't ask for gifts I gave you to be returned and I won't act like a baby.  I respect and love all people enough to know what we all are supposed to be different.  That's the way God made us.  But being different does not give anyone the license to coerce others to go along with their belief system and try to change the entire planet just because they don't like something or they want something.   Remember the green beans example?  Well, it's time to stay away from green beans if you don't care for them and eat all you want if you like them.   But the green bean lovers and haters can't make us all agree about green beans.  

Sunday, July 30, 2017

1 Cup Walnuts: Optional

It had been some time since I'd made cookies and when I saw the packages of Nestle chocolate chips and walnuts on the pantry shelf, I knew it was time to preheat the oven.  Everyone has their favorite recipe for chocolate chip cookies.  Mine is on the package.  "Nestle Toll House Cookies."  It wins with me every single time.  No other recipe does it for me like that one does.  Maybe it's the brown sugar?  The chocolate chips themselves?  Or just maybe, it's the walnuts.  I really think that is the secret.  Walnuts in nice large pieces combined with the semi-sweet chocolate pieces and the butter really does turn into homemade confection perfection that's best with an ice cold glass of milk.

I made a double batch and put most of them in the freezer in small bags.  Later in the week I was enjoying a cookie with milk after lunch when I wondered why most people I know don't put the walnuts in cookies.  It's true that a lot of people use different recipes that might not call for the nuts, but even people I know who make Toll House cookies usually leave the nuts out.  "That's too bad," I lamented to myself inside my own brain, "cookies are always so much better with the nuts."  I was thinking of all the reasons a person might choose to leave the nuts out like allergies, general dislike of nuts, not having them on hand, and maybe they're sometimes seen as an unnecessary and expensive ingredient that can just be left out.  Chocolate chips are supposed to be the stars, right?  Then suddenly, a morose thought danced over my mind.  I was that cup of walnuts in the Toll House cookies from my childhood family.  And I didn't make it into the final batch.  

Does that ever happen to anyone else?  I'm thinking about how cookies are truly better with walnuts and then I'm unable to breathe and tears are streaming down my face because I remember some things from growing up.  A cookie and milk turn into a metaphor for my family relationships with my parents and siblings.  

Earlier in the week I had listened to two tapes my sister shared with me that we had made for my grandma living out of state.  We had made them for her at Christmas time.  It was a little like our own version of the Donny and Marie show.  Some piano tunes, a few jokes, each child talking about school or what was going on in their lives, and my parents sharing things that the children were up to and how much snow was piled up outside.  

My husband asked me if it was smart to listen to the tapes.  At the time I had thought it was a good exercise, one that hadn't bothered me too much, although I had silently cried myself to sleep that night in the wee hours of the morning after listening to them with headphones and the files uploaded onto Google Drive.  It was like the wreck on the highway that you just can't not look at.  I couldn't stop listening.  My own voice was there.  Young, naive, sometimes happy sounding, and sometimes sad.  I could hear in my voice how much I missed my grandmother.  I really loved her and it was hard for me when she went to stay with my aunt in another state.  I talked on the tape about wanting to get $80 dollars so I could go and see her.  It never happened.  

The second tape made me cry when I realized it was my last Christmas with my family before I got married and that only two Christmases later my parents were separated and would later divorce.  There would be no more Christmases for me with my family, at least all together.  The wheels came off the cart after that, the horse tripped and died, and every one of us in some way or other has the bloody scars and missing limbs to prove it.  

In my family, I am the cup of walnuts.  For some recipes it will say that the nuts are "optional."  What does that even mean?  Optional?  Not needed?  Not wanted?  Put them in if you feel like it today, but not if you don't feel like it next time?  The Nestle Toll House Cookie recipe doesn't say "optional."  It assumes that you're going to put the nuts in along with the vanilla and the eggs.  They're supposed to be in the dough.  Nuts are required to make the cookie taste like a Toll House cookie.  There are supposed to be large mounts of crunchy nuts to offset the sweetness of the chocolate and brown sugar.  Nuts are supposed to balance out the rest of the flavors.  They're not an optional ingredient.  But in my family, I'm optional.  Actually, more like permanently crossed off the recipe.

 Divorce should be illegal unless your parent goes to jail for murder or commits incest.  Parents ought to try a whole lot harder to love each other and protect their children.  And asking children to testify against their parents in court should be illegal.  Especially in a stupid custody battle where it's clearly a power struggle and not really about who loves or wants the children most.  Children should not be asked or forced to take sides between parents.  That should be illegal.  And it should be against the law for grandmothers and aunts and uncles and cousins and dogs and cats to turn into spies, trying to catch children in the act of taking sides, only to result in one child getting sentenced for eternity as the cup of walnuts not wanted in the Toll House cookies.   

It's key to remember who chooses whether or not the walnuts go in or not.  The one making the cookies.  In my family, one parent made all the cookies and decided one day to just stop putting in the walnuts.  

When you listen to a tape with your parents' voices and the voices of your siblings, knowing what was all about to go down later on and that as the oldest child you would pay the ultimate price for your parents' mistakes, it makes your heart hurt.  It causes the rashes to come back, the palpitations to start again, the headaches to rebound.  It puts you in a time warp when you hear your innocent voice and wonder how anyone could choose to exclude you from the recipe.  When you hear how young you were when you made the choice to testify in court, you know it wasn't fair to have been asked to do it.  You know now what the price was.  Too expensive.  Always too expensive.  But time is time and you can't get it back.  You can't have those years again with your sisters and brother that you were robbed of, just so your parents could prove a point.  And the water keeps traveling down the river.  It's not the same water it was when it started out from the high mountain slopes, melting as new spring run-off.  You can't retrace your steps.  Yes, with God you always get a second chance or a 20th or a 100th, but not in your family.  There are limited chances and terminal results.  

To my family, if you read this, I get that I'm expendable, optional, less worthy.  We see things differently.  I don't believe in brushing things under the rug and you do.  I believe in redemption and you don't.  I don't like family secrets and you won't admit we have them.  I take responsibility for being a 20-something naive girl but you expect me to have behaved like a 90-year-old with 14 PhDs in Human Behavior and Actual Consequences of Going Against Your Mother.  I'm stronger because of what I went through, but I have scars that never quite seem to heal.  I'd do it all again the exact same way because I believe I was doing what was best for me and what was right at the time.  I miss you, the way I remember you at your best and brightest, and I'll always love you for the good things you brought into my life, even if was for a short time.  

To my dad.  I love your sense of wonder and science-y brain.  How you can make beautiful things with your hands and work out just about any problem.  You know this state like the back of your hand with your eyes closed and you love nature.  I always thought your jokes were funny and I loved when you played the piano---"Diana" was my favorite.  The old white truck and hikes in the mountains, drinking out of springs and identifying plants. You always told me I was smart--thank you for encouraging me to learn. 

To my mom.  You taught me how to sew and cook and bake and how to care for babies.  I talked too much and drove you crazy--I could see it in your eyes--the impatience and disapproval you could never hide .  I always wanted to know the answers to all the questions and I was probably a handful.  Going shopping downtown to ZCMI and Castleton's were good times, especially when we'd get chocolate eclairs at the bakery. Believe it or not, I liked to help with the canning, especially the peaches.  You taught me how to get a job and never stop hustling until I had one and how to write a winning public speech. 

To my sister, L.  You put up with a lot from me.  We fought a lot and also were good friends a lot of the time.  We shared a room and clothes and chores.  Scaring each other with the old rocking chair and the ghosts in the basement.  You always could make me laugh.  

To my sister, G.  You were also really good at making me laugh.  You always got so excited about so many things and it was fun to have you tell your stories.  It was nice after you were married to get to know you on a new level.  We have some fun memories.  

To my only brother.  You were always special, the only brother.  You always made me smile.  You loved to be outside or building something all the time, always so smart.  You do beautiful handiwork, and my home showcases your talents.  Running the river with you will always be a highlight.  

To my sister, A.  You were so small when I left home.  I'll always remember singing with you at bedtime and tucking you in at night.  You loved being a little farm girl and wearing your overalls, playing outside all the time.  You always were being a comedian and smiling.  

To my sister, J.  The littlest one of all.  Maybe your voice on the tape made me cry the most, you were so very small.  Always precocious and talking 100 mph with perfect diction.  Always happy and trying to help everyone get along.  

To all of you, I love you.  We're all where we are now for reasons personal to us.  And it's alright.  At least I hope so.  I hope you're all well.  That you all are happy and healthy.  I pray for you each every day, that you'll know I love you, even from far away.  

Does the cup of walnuts know it's being left out of the Toll House recipe?  Of course, it does. It needs to find a new recipe and make its own sweetness.  I think I've done that.  In fact, I know I have.  Maybe the blessing for all the pain is that I've been blessed with a close and loving family in my husband and children.  I don't believe God wants us to suffer forever or even at all.  I do know He cares about each of us and the burdens we carry.  God forgives us when we seek it from Him.  Because of God's Son, Jesus Christ, all our pain can be taken away and beautiful blessings can be given to us to make up the difference.  Jesus is the Difference.  He walked with me in those rough years and even this week when I realized I'm the cup of walnuts.  He walks with my parents as they get older and face health challenges.  He walks with my sister and her sick son.  He walks with us all and sometimes we're lucky enough to be aware of Him by our side, but He is always there.  

I'm okay with being the optional ingredient, the cup of walnuts left on the counter or maybe still on the pantry shelf.  I'll go and make banana nut bread or steamed pudding and put all my walnuts in the recipe and I'll be the best cup of walnuts I can be, for the sake of my husband, my children, and my God.  And I'll forgive and seek forgiveness, remembering that forgiveness is always between me and my Savior.  I'll seek and receive solace from my Creator who knows the whole story, who doesn't see my side or someone else's side, but who sees the whole view, the panoramic view, and because He sees the eternal view and me as an eternal soul---He understands me and He loves me.  I'm not just an optional cup of walnuts in His eyes.  For that I'm eternally grateful.  

Friday, July 7, 2017

Exclusion? Inclusion? Friends or "Friends?"

You know the kind.  The people (usually women) who want the world to think they're cooler than they really are.  The ones who seem to flit and float above every flower, bestowing the gift of themselves upon every blossom.  It seems they have never-ending energy, taking meals to all the neighbors, hosting backyard parties all the time, liking and commenting on every single Instagram post and Facebook status update.  They're always posting selfies and kiddies and us-ies.  Are they really that important?  Are they truly as happy as their IG account suggests?  Who flew over from England and knighted them expert over all things they profess to be experts in?  Does the world really revolve around their hearting the crap out of Instagram?  Do their friends' lives really depend upon their support?  Admit it.  In your heart, these friends of yours really make you feel quite badly about yourself.  How can you keep up with constant posts of perfect cupcakes and home decor, leisurely days at the pool, book suggestions a mile long, and recipes from Pinterest that we all know nobody really makes.

I beg you to look more closely.  Are these people really happy?  Do they have what really matters?  What are their relationships with their husbands and children really like?  Are they secretly feeding addictions they want no one to know about?  Are their marriages healthy?  Do their husbands secretly celebrate when they leave town for business each week because they can escape their wife and kids Sunday through Thursday?  Are their financial houses really in order?  Do they really only eat Pinterest salads?  Are they as nice to the people not in their circles or who don't follow them on IG as they are to all the people they play to 24/7?  Are they using or manipulating you in some way? Trying to make you feel less-than because you don't subscribe to their mantra or shop where they shop or exercise at their gym?  Are they trying to sell you something?  Anything?  Even if it's just their friendship?  

I've been around a while.  I've seen a lot of trends come and go.  I've been a student of human behavior since college and I'm told I have an uncanny ability to size people up.  I watch and I observe.  I know more than I say.   I've noticed a change in people since social media exploded and became our culture's crutch.  While it has its merits of which I enjoy ease of communication and tools to do my work at a more rapid pace, it has its warts.  Inclusion and exclusion have whole new rule sets, which creep over into real life.

Before Facebook, a person's circle of honest and real friendships was a lot smaller.  Sociologists will tell you that you can't really have hundreds and hundreds of friends.  No person on the planet has the time and talent to BE friends with that many people.  Friendship requires work, sacrifice, empathy, respect, thought, connection, and time--both time spent together and time growing the friendship.  In human relationships, we have circles that work outward like the ripples in a pond.  The circle gets larger as we work outward.  The people in the outer circles are less close to us than the ones in the inner circle.  These people used to be called associates, not friends.

With Facebook and friending, we've crossed a horizon that I'm not sure was meant to be crossed. Are the people on social media following us really our friends or are they merely voyeurs?  Likewise, why are we following all the people we're following or friending?  Just to see what they're up to, not because we really care, but because we simply want to know?  Before social media, we had no access to this type of open and unashamed peeping-tom behavior.  If you wanted to know how someone was doing, you had to look them up in the phone book and give them a ring---talk to them in person.  Now people Facebook stalk each other, spend hours poring over photos and posts, maybe giving a generous like, but usually just looking, peeping, trolling.  

When this crosses over into real life, it messes up all the rules of etiquette.  Are you supposed to invite every Facebook friend to your child's wedding reception?  Do you think that just because you're friends with someone on FB that entitles you to said invitation?  Can you see how it helps to warp and contaminate honest relationships?  If you're friends on FB with one person in your neighborhood, do you have to be friends with everyone?  Newsflash:  You're not supposed to be friends with nor are you required to like everyone in your neighborhood.  While we should be kind, civil, respectful, and loving in our attitudes to all people, FRIENDSHIP is something that takes years and years to grow, bloom, and thrive.  It doesn't happen with the friend or follow button on social media. 

What about inclusion versus exclusion?  Does it have to be all or nothing?  Can't we, or rather aren't we supposed to be choosy about whom our associates are?  We tend to become like the people we affiliate with (birds of a feather....), hence the need to be vigilant in choosing our friends wisely.  I don't care if it's on Facebook or in the backyard.  The people we associate with have powerful influence over our attitudes, goals, and behavior.  I believe in inclusion in the way that we are all children of God and we should be kind, loving, and generous in our attitudes toward all people.  But I believe in exclusion because we will not agree with everyone on the big things, the messy things, and not everyone should be welcome in the inner sanctums of our lives.  Some things are just private, right? And many more things are for only very trusted friends.  

Many years ago, my husband wrote a song called "Merry-Go-Man."  I love it because of its power chords, raging base guitar, and for its message.  It talks about a man who is all things to everyone.  He's supportive of things he doesn't believe in because he wants to be popular.  He says whatever the people want to hear.  He just wants to be loved.  It's a powerful parable about people who speak smooth words in order to gain power, but in the end they have none because they have no integrity---they don't know who they really are.  People like these spend so much time looking for approval, feigning support for others in the hope of a big return, only to find themselves eventually discovered as untrustworthy, disingenuous, and phony. If anyone ever decides to call them out, they haven't anything to stand on.  Their own personal relationships are often in shambles, though they might be in total denial.  Generally, there is proof in the pudding, so to speak.  

It's the arbitrary rules that are so dangerous.  We're all supposed to know and comply with everyone else's made-up personal rules.  I guess we're supposed to be mind readers.  Well, read my mind then. I'm sick of all the new rules, the lack of propriety and etiquette, and basic good manners.  It seems people don't really care about each other in real life, but on social media they sure as heck do. Liking someone's 40034 pictures from their trip or tournament or party is better than being a valiant visiting teacher, right? And if you can't get over to give your sisters a spiritual message and check to see how they really are, because you're so busy hearting everything on IG, just do a drive-by cupcake dropoff--that always works!  (Not really.)  

Solution?  You can do what suits you, but I would suggest you sharpen your discernment skills and tune into what your soul is really telling you.  If social media causes you stress, depression, anxiety, and lack of confidence, then reconsider how you should be using it in your life, if at all.  If you're the one who is a FB stalker, then stop it now and show real compassion instead of just trolling people's accounts.  If you're confused about who your friends really are, then do an assessment.  Who do you trust?  Who are you confident in?  Who loves you no matter what and has never betrayed you?  Who do you actually talk to or spend time with face to face?  You might be surprised.  For me, the people on this list are not avid social media people and that is not where my relationships are with them.  Some of my best friends are so busy and know I'm busy and so we don't talk every day or even every week, but when we get together, we are together, and it's honest, real, and tangible.  I recently purchased a new smartphone and I didn't install social media on it---intentionally.  I'm going to force myself to only look at social media once a day from my computer or tablet, and then be done with it.  My family and real friends communicate with me via text, phone, and email, so I'm not missing anything and even when they do post, it's not often so my once-a-day check-in will suffice.  

As for the whole inclusion/exclusion thing, we shouldn't be made to feel guilty because we don't want to be friends or FB friends with everyone.  It's how God made us.  We're not supposed to have 4000 friends or even 400 friends.  It's not humanly possible.  We are commanded to love all people as our brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ, but that doesn't mean we have to be friends with them all.  It's entirely different.  When people wake up and see that it's okay to have separate groups and not be invited to everything or know about everything, or even have the desire to be invited to or know all, I know it would make us a happier culture.  It's okay to go back to the way it was before Facebook, you know.   And for those who are the Merry-Go-Men-and-Women, please just stop and ask for help for your narcissism and insecurities.  That alone will make the world a better place.  

For the record, I'm not offended if I'm not included in other people's circles, but what does annoy me is the smugness with which some people seem to flaunt the fact that I'm not included, all the while crying foul because they weren't included in mine.  You can't have your cake and eat it, so you've got to choose.  For me, inclusion is for all of God's children in an eternal plan as brothers and sisters.  Exclusion is where I get to choose who's circles I want to accept invitations to and whom I want to invite into mine.  It's how it worked before Facebook!  Give that a good think this weekend and see then if you just might agree.    

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

It's a Slippery Slope When Women Stop Wearing Slips

Could anyone please explain to me how I'm supposed to know what all the new social rules are these days?  Hasn't anyone younger than me heard of Emily Post or Abigail Van Buren?  Are there any hard and fast etiquette rules anymore or is everything just made up as people go along?  Maybe I can share a few things that really bother me and I really don't understand.  I earned a minor in Sociology and these human-nature things have always intrigued me.  This will have to be the first in a series.

First, when did proper undergarments become optional for women and girls in our culture? Seriously, hasn't anyone younger than me heard of ladies wearing slips?  You can't even find them in the store anymore.  Case in point.  I have several slips of varying lengths, types, and colors.  I've had them for many years and the ones I wear the most are getting a little worn out.  While bra shopping with my daughter a month or so ago, I thought I'd get myself a new slip to wear with dresses, but there were no slips to be found in any store we looked at.  Sure, there were Spanx and other types of bodysuit-kind-of-girdle articles, but no slips.  I asked a few store clerks about where to find a slip.  I was always directed to something that looked like a sausage casing about 3 feet too short.  That's not a slip!  Some sales people even laughed at me, saying, "nobody wears those old-fashioned things anymore," and the young sales people didn't even know what a slip was.

For those of you who are slip lovers like myself, you know what a real lady's slip is like.  It's usually white, beige or black and has adjustable straps and a nice-looking bodice with pretty lace and a nice straight or A-line shape made out of pretty tricot or silk.  You feel like a woman when you put it on top of your bra and hose, lounging in it even as you do your hair and makeup and ready yourself for the day.  It makes your dresses and skirts look better because their fabric seems to "slip" over the undergarment nicely, avoiding the sticking and the riding up that happens when no slip is worn.

I could do a whole research project on why women wear/wore slips, where petticoats and dressing gowns originated from and why, but I think it's pretty simple to understand.  It comes down to modesty and cleanliness, both ladylike characteristics I think all of us women might want to have a little refresher course in.  One of the reasons women, especially those in earlier generations, wore petticoats was to keep their dresses clean.  They wore slips underneath the dress to keep it free of sweat and body oils and aprons on top of the dress to keep it clean of dirt and spills.  It wasn't easy or convenient to do laundry, so they protected and took care of their clothing.  Another reason was to enhance the look and shape of the dress. Poodle skirts required really big slips to help the skirt have a shape.  Study the history of fashion and you'll see just how important slips and petticoats really were.  Without a hoop slip, Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind was just wearing a droopy gown.  Then there was the modesty quotient.  Slips and petticoats prevented others from seeing through a gown's fabric, sheltering the shape of a lady's body from curious eyes.  

Why then, don't so many women and girls wear slips anymore?  I know that if they did, more stores would stock them.  Many stores don't sell them because people don't buy them and people don't buy them because they don't wear them.  I think it's a symptom of society's general lack of propriety.  Men don't wear jackets and ties like they used to and women hardly ever wear nice, pretty dresses.  If they don't wear pretty dresses in the first place, why the need for a slip?  So many women of today have become casual in their dress and have given up the notion of being feminine and classy.  When they do need to wear a dress or skirt, they throw on a piece of wash-and-wear knit that clings to their hips, thighs and buttocks in the most unbecoming way.  They add a pair of flip-flops and they're "dressed up."  Even if they wanted to wear the knit maxi skirts that are so entirely and hideously popular these days, they still need to wear a slip.  Why?  Because we can all see through their skirt.

Somewhere someone had a terrible idea of making floor-length, bottom-hugging, unattractive skirts out of T-shirt fabric with all manner of nauseating designs like Chevron stripes, horizontal stripes, vertical stripes, to name a few.  These skirts are so ugly, my daughter and I actually pinky-promised each other we would never, ever buy, wear, or consider wearing one of these "skirts."

Do you know what a real skirt is?  It's got a waistband, a zipper, a button or a hook and eye, and is lined.  The fabric is twill, wool, gabardine, corduroy, silk, tweed, or taffeta.  It has a shape that makes you look better, not worse.  It hides your flaws, instead of accentuating them.  It's a solid color like navy, gray, black, camel, or red.  It's timeless and of excellent quality.  It stands the test of time and can be worn with heels or flats.  It looks good with a blouse and jacket or a sweater.  It can last a lifetime if it's cared for properly.  It falls just above or below the knee.  It needs to be dry-cleaned and pressed.  It's a lady's skirt.  And it requires a slip and hose.

Now that I think about it, the slip isn't the only element that's missing.  It's all missing.  Women don't wear blouses anymore, or even jackets.  And most women don't wear pretty shoes and hose anymore either.  The popular choices range between flip-flops for the beach or locker room, all the way to 5-inch, cheap-looking stiletto heels.  Pretty Georgette blouses have been traded for body-hugging, immodestly tight t-shirts, again made out of knit.  If a jacket is worn at all, it's usually a denim jacket or even a hoodie and yes, I've seen my share of zipped hoodies with skirts.  Denim jackets are good, and I even own one, but it shouldn't be your only jacket.

Who or what is to blame for this shift in culture and lack of ladylike-ness?  We could blame the person who first sported the Chevron-striped yardage in screaming yellow and blue, but it's not really their fault.  The problem lies in all the droves of females that decided they too wanted to look like they were wearing butt-hugging flags.  Another reason is the "skirts" are so darn cheap that a person who likes such unsophisticated clothing can own 2,400 of them for the price of one really good and nice, womanly skirt.  Some might blame it on the desire to be "comfy all the time."  You don't want to hear what I have to say about that.  Being ladylike was never supposed to be about being comfortable.  As soon as we get too comfortable, we lose our manners, our dignity, and our femininity.

Now, it's not to say that comfort is a bad thing.  I don't believe in wearing clothes that are painful or shoes that cause blisters.  But I know the reason a lot of females don't wear slips, bras, and hose is because they say it's not comfortable.  The whole point is to not be comfortable.  When you wear feminine undergarments and you're a little uncomfortable, it's a reminder that you should cross your legs or ankles, walk in a graceful manner, and not roll around on the floor because you feel like it.  Dressing like a lady helps us to act like a lady.  I love things that are comfortable, but I also love things that are beautiful.  I believe we can have both.  There are also times that are appropriate for comfort over style.  I own a pair of Birkenstocks that are heaven on my feet and hips, but I don't wear them with a nice skirt and I certainly don't wear them to work or to church.

Maybe the problem is that as a culture we've become so comfortable with ourselves that we don't even care if it's offensive to others.  Part of the joy of dressing well is in showing respect to your fellow men and women while caring enough about the world we live in that we're trying to make it a little more beautiful ourselves.  Young people and even older ones have become comfortable in going to the market in PJs and slippers, dirty and un-showered, with filthy hair and a grimy face.  Other people do it, right?  Kids wear slippers and pajama bottoms to school and teachers teach in front of the classroom in sweat pants.   It's become so commonplace to dress so casually that when a person is dressed up like Cary Grant or Doris Day, they get stares and questions.  That used to be the expectation, do you realize that?  The expectation that a lady didn't leave the house without her hair and makeup done and a pretty skirt and sweater?  A gentleman didn't walk out the front door without a coat and tie, slacks and Oxfords, even a hat.  

It's now June 6, and summer is here.  I hate summer.  I really loathe it, mostly because it flares up my chronic health conditions, but also because I hate seeing everyone suddenly without clothing, in their full-on "comfortable" uniform of skin-tight, bottom-revealing shorts, tank tops with bra straps hanging out or better yet, no bra at all, and flip-flops.  Warmer temperatures don't require nakedness and impropriety.  You can still be cool and even comfortable in linen slacks, a cotton blouse, and pretty sandals.  

It's critical that we as women not become so complacent in our dress and grooming that we allow ourselves to also become lazy in our feminine values, traits, and virtues.  It is my opinion that when women begin dressing like men or wearing clothing that while comfortable is not respectable, we risk damaging the unique womanhood we are blessed with because we are daughters of God.  How would God want His daughters to adorn themselves?  I am sure He would want us to be modest, lovely, virtuous and praiseworthy, showing respect to our fellow men and women on the earth with the way we dress and carry ourselves.  He would want us to embrace our femininity and enhance the beauty He blessed us all with individually.  Our Heavenly Father would want us to honor Him by clothing our bodies reverently and decently.

I think it's time for a revolution, a revolution of ladylike-ness.  If you're a person who loves her Chevron knit skirt, then at least wear it with a slip, cute shoes, and a better shirt.  What if every girl and woman suddenly demanded slips in all sizes, lengths, and colors choices?  The stores would have to stock them.  If every girl started wearing slips with dresses, maybe the selection in dresses while shopping would improve.  If we had better choices and took them, maybe our manners would show an uptick.  Maybe we'd become a little more polite, courteous and forgiving.  Maybe if we wore pretty blouses instead of knit shirts, we'd actually like our bodies more.  If we wore beautiful dresses and heels, maybe we'd decide we love being women and we'd stop feeling oppressed.  Maybe even men would treat us better because we'd think we deserved better.  The list could actually get quite long here, so I'll stop, because you get the point.  

Something as seemingly small as wearing a slip has the power to create change.  At least it has the power to affect change in us individually.  Maybe we won't solve all the world's problems by wearing slips with smart suits and dresses, but we'd definitely feel better about who we are and maybe we'd treat ourselves better.  That might create a domino effect and give our children higher self-esteem.  It could cause some pretty big changes in society if enough women would accept the challenge.

My challenge to you is this:  If you have a slip, start wearing it and if you don't, find one somewhere and start wearing it.  It will change your clothing choices and while that doesn't have to be expensive, it could be very, very effective.  Embrace your womanhood and your femininity.  Decide that no one should see your silhouette through your skirt.  Save the flip-flops for the pool.  Invest in a nice skirt.  Buy some pantyhose.  It might even improve our economy along with our self-esteem.  I know that at the very least, it will give you greater confidence and you might decide to take on that project you've put aside or ask for that promotion at work or get your college degree.  It might even make you confident enough to go on that blind date or accept a new work assignment.  Maybe I'm crazy, but I think wearing a slip could change the world.  

Monday, February 6, 2017

Spend Well, Not More: A Few Tangible Things That Make Me Smile

I found it rather difficult to get up today.  At 4 a.m. I saw the clock.  A mild panic set in.  Only a few more possible sleep hours.  Please let me sleep.  At 7:00 I finally became conscious and then I didn't want to get out of my bed.  On some days it's a dreadful thing to have to face time outside the warm covers and feather pillows.

As I began my morning rituals and was washing my face, I paused to notice a few things on my bathroom counter.  Is it wrong to feel abundantly grateful for a moisturizer that I love? Is it a sign of wrong priorities to absolutely love the cleanser I remove my makeup with?  As I took a deep breath and really smelled the delicious scent of the soap and the lotion, even the toothpaste, I was just happy. I have a really cool life!  I'm very blessed.  I have the blessing of waking up in a warm house in a soft bed with a wonderful husband and I have orange juice in the refrigerator!  I love my OJ!  I have pretty clothes, lots of books, and paints and brushes and canvases just calling my name:  Get up!  Get to work!  And best of all, I have a beautiful family with children and a husband who are good and kind people.

I have so many things that are little luxuries to me, that make me smile and help me feel safe, beautiful, and smart.  It's not a coincidence that certain things elicit specific emotions and responses. The older I get, the more I realize that quality is so much more valuable and important than quantity. And what we choose to use and for what reasons, can help to heal our wounds and even help us turn difficult corners in our lives.  Just the fragrance of my facial cleanser is exactly what I needed on the day I chose it seven years ago.  It continues to care for my skin and helps soothe my heart.    

When my husband and I were first married, we bought a stereo with some of our wedding money. We bought the one we could afford, a brand called Sound Design.  The Sony was better quality, but more expensive.  It was only a few months after playing our LPs on the Sound Design that it completely died.  We had to replace it.  That time, we got the Sony and 32 years later, we still have the Sony--it still works.  It was an expensive mistake.  The Sound Design and the money we paid for it were wasted and forgotten.  We've been careful ever since to not be fooled by the price tag.  You do get what you pay for.  

We had been married a few years and I was having trouble with my hair.  It was dry and had a lot of split ends.  One day I went to the beauty supply store to get a new curling iron.  The owner asked if he could help me find what I needed.  After some discussion and looking at my hair, he told me I was being too cheap and that was why my hair looked the way it did.  He offered some suggestions, told me what to buy and what to throw away, what to stop doing and what to start doing to properly and respectfully care for what God had blessed me with.  It took some time, and lots of trims to get rid of the dry ends, and finding a hair designer that was a good match for me to get my hair into shape.  I've never looked back.

I have many things that I love and could recommend to you, but on this dreary February morning, these are the things that jump out to me today, things I am truly grateful for in my life, and that bring a smile and a sense of wonder to me every single day.  They are material things, but we do live in a material world.  As long as we have our priorities straight, it's okay to enjoy life and the things that help us get through each day.  Could I live without these little favorites?  Of course.  That's not the point.  I did live without these things most of my adult life, but our family is raised and there are no more orthodontics to pay for or violin lessons.

Clinique Moisture Surge
My favorite thing to do at the beginning of the day is to wash my face and put on this scrumptious, creamy gel.  It reminds me to be gentle with myself and to be gentle with others.  I can feel it filling in the dry patches and cracks, plumping up my tired skin, readying it for a day of work, creativity, and service.  There is no fragrance.  Nothing to make my eyes run or get in the way of the simplicity of moisturizing.  It's like my face's little cheerleader, getting it ready for a night of rest or a day out in the universe.  I love it.  It lasts a long, long time, and is worth every cent.

Iconiq Stainless Steel Bottle
I drink a lot of water.  I loathe warm water or even water at room temperature.  This bottle solves the problem.  It keeps cold water cold and hot water hot for the whole day.  Even in the summer, sitting in my hot car, it keeps my ice water nice and cold.  No need for ice!  No nasty "floaties" and no weird residue to scrub off.  This single-handedly is responsible for helping me to drink more water.  I take it with me everywhere and I gave them to everyone in my family.  A little more money than a cheap water bottle, but again, worth it if cold, ice-free water is your thing.

Fossil Watches
It's a family thing at our house, to have and wear a Fossil watch.  They last forever and can really take the beating from everyday wear.  There are countless designs to choose from to suit every style, every personality, and every scenario.  We've given them to our children and most recently our sweet daughter-in-law.  I can always trust that the time is correct and the ones I have are just so darn pretty, it's fun to check the time and be reminded that there is art everywhere around me, even in my watch.  

7 Salts of the Earth from Trader Joe's
I love salt.  I salt my food like a sailor might.  All my life people have told me to "watch the salt." Then a strange little blessing came into my life.  My cardiologist gave me the prescription of "SALT." As in, eat and drink lots and lots of salt--all you want!  Luckily for me, salt is good for me.  I need it. If I'm not getting enough, my heart does weird things.  My darling sister gave me this package of salt for Christmas.  It's divine!  I sprinkle a little in my clean hand, and eat it!  I'm being really careful with it because I want it to last, but it's my little treat.  My favorite in the collection is Blue Persian Salt.  It's funny to think they might all taste differently, but they do.  If you love salt or know someone who does, this is the perfect present.  Thank you again, Jane!

Sunbeam Heating Pad from Walgreen's
Here's a more practical item, but I really could not live without this.  Inevitably something is painful or tender and needs the gentle heat of this extra large heating pad.  I love it because it doesn't get scrunched or crushed and it keeps its shape.  It shuts off automatically after 2 hours or you can choose the setting of "constant," in which it doesn't shut off unless you turn it off.  It gets good and hot and helps relieve all my aches and pains.  I take a whole lot less Celebrex when I use this regularly.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Aside from my scriptures, if I could only choose one book to take with me on an extended trip, this would be my choice.  I don't think I can ever read it too many times.  If you haven't read it, you probably wouldn't understand, but this book teaches things that are unexpected.  It's about pride and sin, power and denial, God and redemption, the search to become benevolent and the follies of mankind.  It's beautifully written and for the serious reader, I believe, requires note taking and long pauses to ponder.  It's a classic and one of a kind.

Aquaphor Healing Ointment
When my little son had problems with severe eczema, his doctor wanted to give him a prescription that had serious side effects.  I didn't want to risk his health if there was something more conservative that we could try first.  Thankfully, that particular doctor took another job and our original pediatrician returned from a specialized fellowship.  He was the one who handed me a sample tube of Aquaphor and said, "this is all he needs."  And, he was right.  It really works its own little skin miracles.  It's been a staple in our home ever since.  It's pricey at the outset, but it lasts a very long time.  It has long since replaced Vaseline in our family bathroom cabinets.  Its healing quality comes from allowing the skin to breathe while also being protected.  Other ointments merely cover up the skin to form a barrier.  Aquaphor creates a barrier of protection, but it also allows oxygen to move in and out of its barrier, which is what I think makes it so good for your skin.  It's everywhere in my house and I really couldn't live without it.  It goes on scrapes, lips, sores, cuts, and I even put it around my eyes every single night and after 22 years of doing that, guess what?  No crow's feet.

J. Crew
Enough said.  Premium quality, consistent fit, yummy fabrics, classic styles, and generous customer service.  Just like the cheap and flimsy stereo, you get what you pay for when it comes to clothes.  I love how my normal size fits me every single time.  There's really no need to even try things on--I know it will fit.  The best part is they make things in Tall.  I can actually get pants that are long enough for my 35" inseam and dresses that aren't too short in the waist.  The quality will last a lifetime so it's probably important that you truly understand your style before investing in these pieces.  You will never wear them out.  Well, I take that back.  I have actually worn out my J. Crew jeans to the point of my husband and daughter begging me to please throw them away, after my last patching job to keep them in circulation failed miserably and they actually fell apart, literally.  If you buy J. Crew, you will have the pieces forever.  If you consider your clothing an investment like I do, it's worth the money.  One gorgeous sweater that will never stretch out, or a dozen from that terrible and nasty store with the red bull's eye logo?  It's also nice to have less things in my closet.  Less is always more, in my opinion.  Classic neutrals are what I have in my closet like black, gray, navy, and beige.  Timeless, soft, classic, and tangibly comforting.

Simply Orange, Orange Juice
It's not from concentrate.  It's simply oranges, squeezed.  I like the one with high pulp.  I drink a big, tall, ice cold glass every single morning: doctor's orders.  I start to stress when I see the bottle is getting low.  My husband eats Greek yogurt; I drink orange juice.  Mornings wouldn't be proper without it.  And I know why my doctor ordered it.  My body does need it.  This myth about juice being bad isn't true and it certainly isn't true for every person.  Just like my body requires salt, it also requires squeezed oranges.  Maybe yours doesn't, but mine does.  We drank the frozen concentrate for years and years when we had children running out to school every morning and we all sat down to a hot breakfast every morning together.  But now I'm the only one drinking it.  This tastes far more delicious than the concentrate and I don't have to mix it.  I recycle the plastic jugs every week and sometimes I use them to store water.  I'm glad they have it at my market.  It's one of my favorite things about morning time.  

I only share these things out of an honest sense of wonder and gratitude for all the sweet creature comforts in my life.  I know I am blessed, even lucky, but we have also made conscious decisions to be smart, to spend wisely, to invest in quality and to get rid of the quantity.  It's the quality of our lives that matters most.  I'd rather have fewer things and less vacations that are of real and sound quality than a bunch of clutter and countless trips to theme parks.  To each their own, but for me, I'd rather have a quarter of a grilled cheese sandwich made with Gouda and sourdough bread, than a whole one made with American cheese and Wonder bread.  

I like to think it's also a metaphor for life in the bigger picture of things.  Do we spend our days doing the quality things that are really and truly important to our eternal salvation or do we squander our time with eternally insignificant pursuits like playing to the world's standards and trying to look like the rest of society?  Shouldn't we be trying to stand out in a world so that maybe some might wonder what makes us different and then maybe even approach us to ask?  I had an interesting experience a year or so ago.  A woman contacted me through Pinterest and asked if I was Mormon.  She wanted to learn more about what Mormons believe and had wondered if I was LDS simply based on what she saw on my Pinterest boards, namely the one titled "My Style."  She said that all the images I had pinned were modest, ladylike, and elegant and she wondered if I must be Mormon.  It was a tremendous compliment and of course I told her that I am indeed a Mormon, and proud to be. We've become acquainted now, simply because of me pinning things that I find to be "virtuous, lovely, of good report, or praiseworthy."

Maybe this will inspire you to look around your surroundings, to pause and realize how many sweet and wonderful personal comforts you enjoy and what it is that adds the little lift in your step that enables you to go out into the world each day and do your best.  I believe that in whatever circumstance we find ourselves, we can each find these little gems that make us smile, help us to be cheerful, and give us the righteous confidence we need to go out and make a difference in the world. After all, life is to be enjoyed, not simply endured, or at least Gordon B. Hinckley thought so.

Disclaimer:  I am NOT being paid to endorse the products mentioned above.  

Monday, January 30, 2017

My Own Executive Orders

I'm going to sign some "executive orders" of my own.  Today.  It won't affect anyone or anything, or maybe it actually might.  President Trump has been signing some and I think it's a good thing to do, when you want to pull the anchors up and right the ship.  I'm not the president of a country or even a company, but I am the president and CEO of my own life.  Not in any particular order, but let me give it a whirl.

Moratorium on Fake Reality:

The election is over.  It was a long and arduous year, but America voted, I voted, and I hope you voted.  Even if people didn't vote, those of us who did, chose the President and it's Donald J. Trump.  Yes, and he is your president even if you don't like him or you didn't vote for him.  Yelling "not my president" is childish and makes me wonder if those people really ever went to school or if they just failed elementary thinking skills.  Want or need proof?  Do you live in America?  He's your president.  Hoping for an example?  Sure, I've got the perfect one for you.  I didn't vote for Obama---twice.  And he was still my president.  I might not have liked everything he did or said or stood for, but I respected his office and I tried to be a good American.  I was a good American.  I didn't damage any property or set anything on fire.  I didn't march in a parade dressed like female genitalia, yelling obscenities to people who think differently than me.  I had lots of reasons to protest or be angry and I was angry, but I didn't have a public tantrum or prostrate myself on public property and claim I had been offended.  I didn't sue anyone and yet I feel I did actually lose much in those 8 years.

I watched as traditional marriage was trampled and spat upon.  I watched as the president used his authority to force anti-family and anti-marriage legislation upon me and my family.  I felt the loss as I watched our savings sit there, not growing, because interest rates were so low it only benefited those with massive debt.  I watched the stock market slide lower and lower and lower.  I saw the end of my profession as Obama sent the work I used to do, overseas to people who can't even speak English.  I watched as the White House was draped in rainbow lights to celebrate the SCOTUS decision to make gay marriage legal, which felt like an actual physical assault to my faith and my values.  I watched as the president gave more respect to transgender bathroom rights than he did to women and children.  I watched as we lost a great and worthy Supreme Court Justice and the left seemed almost to cheer, so confident were they that Hillary would win and thus render the highest court undeniably and forever liberal.  I watched as more abortions killed millions of babies and mass shootings killed hundreds.  I watched as cops became targets and singers became heroes.  I watched as the president who swore he would never pull the race card, did, and over and over and over again.  I watched as the country who was attacked on 9/11 seemed to almost forget who did it and why.  My hands were tied when Twitter suspended my account temporarily after simply posting a flag and "never forget" on 9/11.  I watched as my own healthcare costs soared while coverage sank, all to help pay for the people who have no insurance and no intention of ever getting it.  I stopped taking a critical heart medication because the FDA deemed it "experimental" for my condition, which made the cost to me absolutely prohibitive.  I watched the American model of bravery and courage, sacrifice and hard work, turn into some sort of nightmare with weakling citizens and people so offended at every thing anyone ever said that soon it became "hate speech" and bigotry to just simply and quietly believe in God and traditional marriage.

I might have muttered under my breath, or out loud in my own home or among friends, about my dissatisfaction with what was going on in Washington, but I didn't beat anyone up or break windows.  I didn't demand to not be offended, and yet Obama offended me on most days.  His wife, Michelle, also offended me on a regular basis.  But guess what?  I'm an American and Americans, or at least I was taught in school, are strong, brave, resilient, and problem-solving men and women who respect their country and their fellow men and women.  When we don't win an election, we just try to do what we do best and hope that Washington is grateful for our contribution.  We wait for the next election and we try again.  When Obama bothered me, I turned the TV off, read a book, made some art, cooked something fabulous, or went on a walk.  Maybe that could work for the people bothered by Trump.

How about an executive order against gossip?

Gossip is evil at its core.  Tell a person seeking juicy details from you about a friend's misfortune that you won't share and watch the horror crash up against their face.  It's almost as if you stomped their foot with a high-heeled shoe and told them they couldn't cry.  Their whole world spins out of control.  That's what would happen to gossip if everyone actually had the guts to say, "hey, I'm not participating."  It would be the severing of Medusa's head.  No more hissing mouths.  You can always tell who is guilty of speaking ill of you.  Their guilt gives them away.  Someone who used to act kindly suddenly and consistently acts cold and becomes estranged?  One thing to watch for is the circles of friends that travel together.  If someone in their group has singled you out, soon enough, they will all have singled you out.  It's the bully code of their club.  Only bullies gossip.  Don't believe me?  Maybe you're a bully.

An executive order on judging.

I seriously wanted to help with the refugees in my community.  I even wrote an article about it.  I got involved with a few groups and had some amazing experiences.  Then we helped our son move and went on vacation and I got sick and we had a wedding.  I had to put my volunteer plans on hold until after Christmas.  I was just getting organized for the new year and prioritizing projects, when I read the newsletter from one of the groups I was affiliated with in the summer.  Result?  I will not be returning to help that group with the refugees.  Why?  Because the article was shamefully provocative bigotry, just reverse bigotry, I guess.  When people who have long been victims of bigotry suddenly become perpetrators of bigotry and racism, we have a deep and wide chasm to cross and some people like me, might not want to take the risk, so they just withdraw.  If you lump all Trump supporters into one big group of bigots and fascists, you might end up with many fewer volunteers.  Maybe it would be wise to not assume everyone who cares about refugees is a liberal Hillary fan.  Some might say, well you can still help the refugees, why does that make you angry?  It makes me angry because the person who wrote the article is the same person who said they'd never confess whether they were Sunni or Shia, because they didn't want to be judged, yet without knowing how I voted or what was in my heart and discounting and disrespecting the service I rendered, they made very sweeping and hateful statements about the very policies I voted for, the very America I voted to protect.  Just because I want my country to be safe doesn't mean I hate refugees or don't want them here.  They don't want to be judged, but they will judge me?  I'm sorry, but I don't play with those who don't play fairly.  So I'm out.  I have lots of other projects that could use my attention.  And sadly though, we all lose.  This kind of blind hypocrisy and bigotry hurts us all.

An executive order on being "entitled."  It just needs to stop.

My husband and I have earned everything we've ever received.  My children also have earned their way in life.  Painstaking, sacrificing work has gone into what we have achieved within the walls of our modest home.  I'm proud that our children are as hard working as they are because it has blessed and will continue to bless their lives and their future is very bright.  I don't take kindly to people who want everything for free and without any effort on their part.  I don't respect parents who don't teach their children to work.  If I have to hear "well, how would it be to....." one more single time, I might just move the atomic clock all the way over to midnight myself.  Here's the answer to "how would it be?"  Well, it would be just fine if you learned how to work, got yourself through high school with a full-ride university scholarship, then worked your actual butt off for four years to maintain and keep said scholarship, graduate with honors and got a good and professional, grown-up, real, American job.  It'd be even more cool if you earned a spot at at a top graduate school program to further your studies and came out even higher in terms of income potential, and then paid for your student loans, by YOURSELF.  It'd be great if you could save money for a down payment on your own home and enjoy the sacrifice and blessings of home ownership because you earned it.  Even more cool if you took care of your house and paid the bills so your bank didn't come and take it back from you, and better still if you kept your home in good repair and respected it and were happy there.

Here's the deal.  The people who live or have lived under our roof learned one thing very early:  We work before we play and we live within our means.  That combined with going to church every single week unless burning up with Ebola fever, a love for Jesus Christ and His gospel, and respecting our country of America, have worked very well for us.

An executive order bringing back propriety and etiquette.

Thank-you notes, wearing a bra, wearing pants for that matter, taking a shower before going out in public, allowing older people the right-of-way in the aisle, not attacking the parking spot someone else is patiently waiting for, saying please and thank-you, returning what you borrowed, being honest with your fellow men, not taking what doesn't belong to you, paying for what you break, and taking your screaming child out of the movie are just a few that come to mind.  Remember when it was shameful to not do any of these things?  Now it's perfectly alright to just expect others to put up with you and your own interpretation of etiquette.  You don't feel like putting on clean clothing that you didn't sleep in 27 times straight before heading out for a night at the movies?  Good for you!  Way to be!  Except, no--that's not cool because now the rest of us have to smell you.  You were wasted after leaving the basketball game and didn't see my car?  Why on earth would you think you'd need to leave me a note so I could have your insurance company pay for it to get fixed?  Don't have insurance?  See, now you're running from the law.  Knocking over Grandma in the aisle of the grocery store?  She moves too slowly, you say?  Well, now you just might need a cane on your back side.  And blessing everyone at church or the movies with your crying baby?  So not cool.   Some places, like church, museums, and libraries are for quiet, remember?  What about appointing yourself in charge of the company thermostat?  Everyone else brings a sweater, but you?  No, you just crank it on up because you are cold and it's all about you.

How about an executive order on closed-mindedness?

I didn't vote for Obama, but I watched both of his inaugurations and I prayed for him.  I wanted him to succeed.  I tried to do my part.  I wanted to have hope.  I really tried.  I've been a good American.  If I had had the chance to meet him as the president, I would've been happy to meet "my president."  I would've wanted his autograph and a selfie and I would have been happy to tell my children about it.  But I guess I was born too late, either that or it's almost too late for America.  We've become so close-minded, so hateful and so whiny and offended.  Trump hadn't even been sworn in yet and there were death threats and rude predictions about his children and talk of how his wife is an illiterate doll.  Would you be willing to meet and shake hands with your president?  Are you willing to pray for him?  To  exercise hope in him and in humanity?  To bring civility back?  To care about our country and her people enough to bring it back?

Is there enough time to right the ship?  I think we can do it, but we all need to be on deck.  All hands on deck is what it requires.  No messing around.  No lolly gagging in the galley.  No time for shoddy work or not giving an honest day of labor for honest wages.  If we are going to fix this country, it will take Americans, and not our president, to do the work.  Think of it this way.

I am a mere American, but I can make a difference by saying "I can."  A-mere-I-can.  A few million mere "I-cans" can change the culture of our country.  Do we want to be the same America that put the first man on the moon?  Think of this.  Kennedy wanted America to land on the moon.  He was hyped up about it and wanted to do it before Russia did so NASA went to work.  It hadn't been done before, but America was brave, America was valiant, America had spirit, and smart men and women figured out how to make it happen.  It was accomplished.  If America can put a man on the moon, it can stop the proverbial bloodshed spewing from everyone's mouths.  It can quell the rising anger in an offended heart.  It can stop the impudent acts of the selfish.  It can ask for guidance from our elderly.  We can bring manners back, we can bring propriety back, we can bring America back.  We don't all have to agree--we just have to be willing to love each other as Americans whether or not we agree.  And we have to love our country more than we disagree with one another.  And doing that, the first step I really feel, requires us to ALL get behind President Trump.  He needs our prayers.  His family needs our prayers.  Our country needs our prayers.  We need to invite God back into this land.  We need to find a way to live in harmony with each other the way we used to.  It has never been as it is now and we must take our country back.

I love America.  I feel I won the lottery every day of my life because I was born here, because I live here, and because I'm happy here.  Can't we all decide we feel the same?  Would you really rather live outside her borders?  I certainly wouldn't want to.  So I'm signing my own executive orders today.  Starting today, there are some things that just simply need to end:

1.  Fake reality and fake news.
2.  Gossip and judging.
3.  Entitlements.
4.  Lack of manners and propriety.
5.  Closed-mindedness and being un-American.