the listed life

32 Reasons I love my Husband: in honor of his birthday

2011-09-07T19:11:00.000-07:00

Alright, this time and this time only will the number in the title be above 10. But really I'm not going to list all 32. I made him a list on his 30th birthday that I read at his big celebration dinner. I'm not going to post it here - but I am going to give 5 reasons of those that matter the most.

He makes me laugh. Every good relationship should have a silly side. He makes me laugh, even when I'm mad at him.
He loves God. So crucial. The more I see of his love for God, the more I love him.
He is generous. With his time, his resources and his help.
He is loyal. He will come to the aid of those he loves and fight for those that need help.
He is HOT. Remember this is one of more than 30 reasons. So yeah. I'm not shallow, but I'm just saying.

Why do you love your spouse?

5 Super [cheap] Foods

2011-08-23T17:50:00.000-07:00

Alright, I enjoy being healthy as much as the next person. Or maybe the person beside them. I also really enjoy being frugal. (Hey that would be a great blog name for a woman who blogged about couponing and smart shopping - fru GAL.) Anyway, here is a nice list that combines good for your body with good for your wallet.

1. Eggs. Eggs cost me about $1.69 a dozen. And that's even the fancy organic, free range, gluten-free (kidding) kind. One egg packs 6 grams of protein which is 12% of your recommended daily intake. For pregnant and breastfeeding women, two eggs contain 250 mg. of choline, a necessary nutrient for baby growing (ask your midwife/ob-gyn what it is and I'm sure they'll be impressed/annoyed that you discovered it online).

2. Bananas. Seriously like 17 cents apiece. We always blame kids unlimited energy on sugar or candy, but if your kids are like my little guy, they probably get their get-up-and-go from a banana-rich diet. That's right, bananas lift your energy levels 20% for 2 hours straight after consumption. They are basically the perfect workout food because you get energy and then the potassium helps to synthesize protein to build muscle.

3. Cinnamon. Spicy, sweet and delicious. And only a couple of bucks for a supply that will last you for months (unless you make sticky buns every morning for your entire neighborhood.) This food (though some may argue that it isn't exactly a food, but hey, I can't hear you so I don't care) has amazing properties that I had no idea about until I started researching it for this blog post — anti-clotting, anti-microbial, blood sugar control and on, and on. And it has negligible calories. Unless you add it to sticky buns.

4. Sweet potatoes. Counts as a veggie, tastes like dessert! Num num as my son says. Little does he know that this is one of the most nutritious vegetables. Again at only about 18 cents a piece, you get almost 90% of your daily vitamin A as well as a good dose of Vitamin C. Mix it with number 3 and you get a side dish for Thanksgiving.

5. Beans. Running between 85¢ to $1.15 a can, beans have not only a superhero profile among foods but also a secret identity on the food chart. You can find them with the proteins AND the veggies. Get this run down: complex carbs, protein, fiber and low in calories, fat and sodium! And if you're worried about the gas factor, soak your beans for about 15 minutes then rinse and you should be flatulence free.

Learn more about these fab foods at:
http://www.incredibleegg.org/health-and-nutrition/egg-nutrients
http://www.chiquitabananas.com/Worlds-Favorite-Fruit/bananas-power-food.aspx
http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=68
http://whfoods.org/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=64
http://americanbean.org/healthy-beans-health-nutrition-beans-a-nutritional-power-house/

5 truths you can't escape — what do they mean to you?

2011-08-09T13:22:00.000-07:00

Some people refuse to believe in absolute truth. But there are some facts you can't argue with.

You affect others. Be it your presence or your absence, your choices or your abdications, your love or your indifference, your actions affect those around you. No one lives in a vacuum. Even little things like, where you park your car, where you sit in a movie theater, what wrong number you dial — have an impact on the world.
Others affect you. Same truth in reverse. Even if you claim that nothing anyone does has an affect on you, I can guarantee that mindset is a direct result of the affect others have had on you in the past. The first and foremost evidence of this: you had no part in the decision to come into existence. Your life is the result of the actions of others.
You believe in something. Some people get angry when I bring this up. I've heard, "I don't believe in a god, I don't believe in absolute truths (which we see doesn't deny the existence of them) so I don't believe in anything." Which is a belief. Our reality is built on what we believe to be true, false, etc. We base our actions and decisions on what our minds believe. You walk up to a water fountain to take a drink because you believe water will come out of it when you press the lever. Congratulations, you're a human and you can't escape beliefs.
You can't go back in time (or forward or stop in time). Many want to believe that time travel is possible (there is that belief thing again). Whether it is or not, we haven't figured it out so this truth still stands. Your life is happening as I type and all you have is right now.
Your life on this earth will end one day. Not to be morbid, but we are talking undeniable truths and this is a big one. Whether you die or the earth ends [whichever one comes first], your life here won't last forever.

Thoughts about these truths? How do they make you feel?

3 signs I'm ready to have another baby

2011-08-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

That's right. I'm ready for baby number 2. How do I know?

1. I'm sleeping more than 7 hours a night. It makes no sense, I know. Now that I'm getting enough sleep every night, I feel rested and refreshed. Which means I need another newborn before I get too comfortable with this much sleep.

2. I've started online browsing for maternity wear. Say what? Yes, I enjoyed wearing maternity clothes. And while I'm prepared to reuse my first wardrobe (if we get the seasons right), I'm ready to add a few new items!

3. I'm thinking about names. Already have 2-3 boy names and the same girl name that we didn't use when we found out Connor was a boy (as well as another new girl name in the mix).

4 movies you've never heard of but need to watch ASAP

2011-08-06T19:09:00.000-07:00

Obscure movie quotes are a bit of a fetish. So are mainstream movie quotes. I'm not sure why I love quoting movies so much....hmmmm. Anyway, rent/stream these when you have a free night to be pleasantly entertained.

1. It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963)
Cast of epic, comedic proportions. Outrageously long (clocks close to 3 and a half hours, it even has an intermission) but just as outrageously funny. Bonuses: Delightful sound track, lots of physical comedy.

2. The Chipmunk Adventure (1987)
Yes, this is an animated movie about Alvin and the Chipmunks. But it is sooo much better than those weird CGI ones that have recently been released. Bonuses: catchy music numbers performed by both the Chipmunks and the Chipettes, a hilarious Eastern European brother/sister act.

3. Flight of the Navigator (1986)
Before "Sex in the City," Sarah Jessica Parker played a rocker, nurse-like chick helping a young boy who has time traveled with an alien robot. Bonuses: funny boy/robot shenanigans, 80s fashion and music.

4. Spellbound (2002)
Before you say "boo" to a documentary (I'm just assuming you are all cooler than me because I usually say "yea" to documentaries) this one will have you mesmerized by the wonderful world of competitive spelling. Just trust me. Bonuses: You could learn how to spell some new words, you could feel a lot better about your awkward middle school years.

All of these are family friendly, the only one that isn't rated "G" is the Flight of the Navigator — it's PG. You know SJP, always a little sassy.

5 words you should consider eliminating from your vocabulary

2011-08-06T10:42:00.000-07:00

Words are the tools of my trade. So why would I want to ditch some of them? Trust me, these have it coming:

Impactful - I start with this because it IS NOT a real word. Yet, I swear I hear it at least a dozen times a day, spewed from the lips of CEOs, interns, producers, even my colleagues. People I like and yet people whose eyes I want to gouge out when they say this word (that was overkill, I know). Here is the deal: something can have an impact (like a meteor) but nothing can be "full of impact." Got it?
Leverage - Unless you are referring to the little-known but awesome television series on TNT, don't succumb to this paragon of jargon. It just makes me throw up a little in my mouth when I hear it.
Diet - This word doesn't mean what people use it to mean. Well, scratch that. It does, but it's unnecessary. Your diet is the way you eat. Whether healthy, junk, normal or bizarre — we are ALL on diets. Mine just might include an ice cream sandwich here and there along with an occasional swig of cream soda. So just stop using that word and stuff your face or don't.
Concept - In my line of work, this word is particularly maligned. It means everything and it means nothing. It is the deliverable, it is the theme, it is the big idea, it is the etc. I have to use it but a little bit of my soul dies every time I utter it, so please, use sparingly.
Synergy - The truth is, if you've ever actually used this word, we can't be friends. Please don't let the blog door hit you on the way out.

8 books to help you raise a reader

2011-07-28T12:36:00.000-07:00

Books could be the single best parenting tool in the world. I don't mean parenting books. Some of those are ok (I owe my sleep-through-the-night-by-8-weeks success to Baby Wise) some of them are more harmful than helpful (I owe endless nights of worry to What to Expect When You're Expecting). But I digress.

I'm talking about inundating your children with the written (and illustrated) word. It's never too early (or late) to start. I started reading to my son when he could barely hold his head up. I made it a part of our bedtime routine. I made it a part of our bonding time. I offer him books in the car. I offer him books on a star. Ok. So, you get my point.

Here are 8 books [among hundreds] me and my son love:

1. Hop on Pop (Dr. Seuss, 1963) Now I will be the first to say that any of Dr. Seuss' wonderful works of kiddy lit are fabulous additions to your library. But it can get a bit expensive to purchase the entire collection. It's my opinion that Hop on Pop combines all of the best Seuss flavor into a stellar book that helps teach language, speech cadence and just plain silly fun.

2. Harold and the Purple Crayon (Crockett Johnson, 1955)
The ultimate tribute to imagination. This kid creates endless hours of fun with a single purple crayon, which in the 50's might have been considered a luxury item. Now it does appear to be encouraging vandalism, but you could just tell the kids that Harold was using a washable Crayola (disclaimer: I do not advocate lying to your children, so really you're on your own to figure out how to address this).

3. Night, Night, Little Pookie (Sandra Boyton, 2009)
A new favorite, considering I'd never read it until my son was born a little over a year ago, but it's quickly become a staple bedtime read. It's just so precious and he loves to point out Pookie to me. My favorite part of Boyton's books are the little red lines spoken by the kids - so precious.

4. Berenstain Bears: The Spooky Old Tree (Jan and Stan Berenstain, 1978)
Now there may literally be thousands of Berenstain Bears books. Not sure how these authors pulled it off, but the library spans close to 40 years. However this was among their very first and it is still among my very favorites. The lessons to be learned from the Berenstain Bears should not be underestimated, including how to overcome fear.

5. Madeline (Ludwig Bemelman, 1939)
Sweet. Little. French. Girl. All the things I was (well most of the time I was sweet, and I am a quarter French) when I was a child. I hold this book dear because my mother was born to a French mother and adopted by a French teacher and her husband here in the U.S. This book is not only gorgeously told and gorgeously illustrated but it holds meaning for me.

6. The Giving Tree (Shel Silverstein, 1964)
A story of self-sacrifice and generosity. A lesson much needed by today's youth. It's a sweet story that I'm not sure resonated with me as a child but definitely touches me when I read it today. Silverstein also has some great volumes of silly, clever children's poetry.

7. The Very Hungry Caterpillar (Eric Carle, 1969)
Iconic. A simple beautiful story, told in a captivating, memorable way. It also encompasses one of my other favorite things besides books — food. My son already gets excited over the colors and images in this classic.

8. The Story of Babar (Jean de Brunhoff, 1937)
Another import from France. This story is adventurous and magical, the characters are lovable and fantastical. If you like this one, you should check out all of the Babar stories — the series really has a unique, exotic appeal.

Alright, that's it for now. I could keep going.
But now I'm going to ask you, what are you're favorite children's books?

Top 10 Reasons I recommend breastfeeding and 1 Reason it sucks

2011-07-27T12:53:00.000-07:00

That's right. I'm all in for breastfeeding. (I weaned my son at 14 months and was surprisingly sad when he went to sleep fine without any ninny.) But there was one downfall - well technically two.
Here are My reasons for loving breastfeeding:

1. Bonding - It is an amazing feeling to know that you can feed your child and take care of their nutritional needs better than anyone else. And holding your little one while they nurse is such a precious experience.

2.Fat burner - Breastfeeding torches calories and usually takes care of the extra weight you may have gained during pregnancy.

3. Voracious appetite - I saw this as a plus maybe because I had NO appetite during most of my pregnancy. I wanted to eat everything in sight (I tried to keep 90% of it healthy).

4. Sleep aid - I always felt ready for bed after I finished nursing. It helped me relax and focus on resting and winding down.

5. Sex appeal - I appreciated that I had the opportunity to see what it was like to have large breasts (comically large). Not great for regular clothes, but it sure made me look hot in a swimsuit.

6. Convenience - No bottle warming, no formula mixing, no waiting while baby gets hungrier. Anytime or anywhere, I had the boob juice ready.

7. Cheap - Holy cow. Really, I think we saved enough money to buy a cow by not having to spend money on formula. I couldn't believe how much that stuff costs.

8. Healthier baby - I don't know that this is true for every baby, but my son had very few health issues or sicknesses while I was breastfeeding him. He was exposed to the flu once (without being vaccinated) and he didn't contract it. He also was exposed to a stomach virus that both me, my husband and his nana ended up catching, but he was fine. And no major colds or other problems.

9. Patience - I feel like breastfeeding my son helped me to develop a true sense of patience. That time wasn't about what I wanted to accomplish, it became about waiting and just being ok with serving someone else's needs. Which I think helps me with the rest of parenting. It's about raising another person by giving them the things they need to grow and mature.

10. Sense of accomplishment - I never like to admit to pride, but I was thrilled that I stuck with it. No it wasn't always easy (particularly the going-back-to-work-and-pumping part). But it was totally worth it.

And here it is, the big letdown (pun totally intended but probably not gotten unless you've been a lactating mother):

SAGGY BOOBS. Sigh. Now I really am looking forward to the next time I nurse a baby, just so I can have some firm breasts for a short time.

Check out more info here on why nursing (if you can) is so ideal:
http://www.llli.org/
But balance this perspective with the truth that formula feeding is a very nutritional choice for your baby, if that is what you would prefer or if that is what you need to do for whatever reason:
http://kidshealth.org/parent/growth/feeding/breast_bottle_feeding.html#

Motherhood at warp speed

2011-03-17T12:07:00.000-07:00

Sigh. Seven months have passed since my last post and that equals a grand total of two posts in the last two years. I never thought that I would be so irresponsible with my blog. I'm almost embarrassed and tempted to start over so that no one knows about my ridiculously lame blogging record. Good grief. I'm a writer for goodness sake. It should be easy to whip out my laptop every night and crank out a good 500+ words of fresh, witty insight with a side of humorous anecdotes.

But as you may recall (think way back), I am a new mother. Well, a newish mother. My son will be turning one in approximately three weeks. The time has flown by like a Boeing 747 on a non-stop to Australia. What can I say about the last 7 months? I've grown and shrunk (thank goodness, breastfeeding burns enough calories to make up for my non-existent exercise routine). I've also become more demanding and more relaxed. I've let things go and held other things closer. I've learned a lot and forgotten things I used to know.

I feel like I don't recognize myself, sometimes. Being a mother isn't just about taking care of my child — making sure he gets enough fruits and vegetables, doesn't throw things at people and eventually learns to do his business in a potty. It's about making sure I'm the person I want him to see. No matter what I tell him (hopefully in a patient and constructive tone) what I will teach my son will ultimately come down to what I DO not what I say. So everything I do, and HOW I do it becomes the curriculum.

Thankfully, I'm not relying on my own strength to do anything.

One year, eight months and some CHANGE

2010-08-20T06:13:00.000-07:00

Hello? I almost feel as if I am trespassing. Yes, this blog is mine, and I did write every post (all 29 of them) that precedes this one. But it has been almost two years. And I am not the same person I was in November of 2008. In fact, I am several things I was not at that time.

First of all, I am a better writer. At least, I sincerely hope so because I have now been working as a copywriter for 3 and a half years. Twice the time I had been when I left this blog dangling in the breeze. Secondly, I have entered my 30s. Yikes. I find it amazing that simply adding a three to the beginning of my age makes me feel unexpectedly mature and more capable in some ways. Or at least more confident in my capabilities.

Finally, and most importantly, I am a mother. Yes. It is still surreal to write those words. I have a precious 4-month-old son named Connor Thomas Martin, born on April 5. He has blue eyes and blond hair and the fattest thighs I've ever encountered. Words seem incredibly insufficient to describe the miracle of becoming a parent, and that is so frustrating because words are my tool for sharing my story, my emotions and my experiences.

So what do I say about it that doesn't sound cliche? What new insight can I share with a reader (if there are still any out there after a hiatus of practically 600 days)? My fingers keep reaching for letters that begin sentences that don't do justice to what I want to convey.

Let's try this. Let's begin at the life-changing moment of discovery. We found out I was pregnant August 21 of last year. Almost one year exactly, today. I woke up early in the morning to take the test. I waited, held my breath and saw the word "pregnant" appear in the window of the test. I had a feeling the night before that it was going to be positive. Running into our bedroom, I nudged my husband gently and said, "Congratulations Daddy. His due date is Dave's (my younger brother) birthday." Then I paused. "His?," I said questioning what had just come out of my own mouth. "Why did I say that?" I had no reason to believe that it was a boy. But that stuck with me. Possibly, it was the Lord letting us know that we were having a son. All I know was that it was true.

You say tomato; I say the fruit masquerading as a vegetable.

2008-11-19T08:10:00.000-08:00

Language is the essence of humanity. It’s what sets us apart from all other species. Language allows us to share thoughts, ideas, emotions, wisdom, experiences — in short, our lives — with each other. I find language not only fascinating but also vital to my livelihood, due to the fact that I’m a copywriter for a PR/Ad agency.

Advertising has produced some of the most outrageous language missteps. Consider the “Got Milk?” campaign. When this message went South of the Border, an ignorance of culture and conjugation turned a simple question into a super-personal, inappropriate inquiry. Apparently the direct Spanish translation of “Got milk?” is “Are you lactating?” Add to that the images of milk-mustachioed celebrities, and you can see why the campaign became slightly obscene. Lesson learned: Crossing language lines can be sticky. But not just in the context of translations. What if you change the way something is talked ABOUT?

Over the years, industries, product categories and services have developed their own “languages.” In a large part, advertising and marketing folks can be credited (or blamed) for this phenomenon. After all, we construct the messaging around everything from mouthwash to mattresses and then bombard consumers with it from morning to night. Take for example the auto industry; everyone knows what typical “car sales speak” sounds like. “Entire inventory marked down,” “low APR financing on all [insert year here] models,” “no-haggle pricing.” The good part about these languages is that consumers immediately recognize and understand them. The bad part? If everyone is saying the same thing, no one is saying anything new.

As a copywriter, I have to learn product and industry languages on a regular basis. (At Capstrat, it can be a daily occurrence.) In order to talk about something, you have to know how it’s talked about. Once you get familiar with the terms and phrases for a particular client or project, it’s time to craft copy (advertising speak for “write”). Danger! Danger! All of that language you just absorbed can make your message sound like a carbon copy of every other competitor. For example, say you became fluent in hamburger. Common terms: Juicy, delicious, 100% Grade-A beef, grilled to perfection, that fresh-off-the-grill flavor. How do you talk about a hamburger without sounding like everyone else? You’ve got to change the language.

Could you call a hamburger “innovative” or “revolutionary” Or could you say ‘your taste buds will demand an encore?” What about, “the flavor will leave your tongue speechless?” Perhaps the sandwich is “bland-defying” or “cult-inducing.” Ok I’ve indulged my appetite for wordplay. The point is that by using phrases, imagery, metaphors and conceptual copy that aren’t typical to the standard language of that category or industry, you’ll sound different. And more importantly, if you say it right, people will understand, relate and connect — without getting lost in translation.

The good news is language has an evolutionary nature. Just looking back through a couple hundred years of linguistic records reveals the distance English-speakers have traveled from our mother tongue. No one I know would say, “Forsooth, I know not why I am so sad.” They’d say, “Honestly, I don’t know what my deal is.” Slang comes and goes; new words are added to Webster’s Dictionary every year. Thanks to relatively new realms of culture like technology and the Internet, I can listen to the Web guys speaking what sounds like a combination of Vulcan and Pig Latin. I hope they aren’t talking about me.

Ultimately a message needs to be understandable and relevant to the people it is intended for. But that doesn’t necessarily mean molding it out of a predetermined set of terms and phrases that they recognize. Here’s my take on how to successfully change a language. First, learn it. Whether it be insurance idioms or eco-expressions, make sure you know the industry lingo. Second, respect it. Understand that the originators and the users of a language have created a way to communicate certain ideas effectively. But in the end, reshape it. Stretch, push and finesse the established language barriers to bring new life, new feeling and new expression to your readers.

Don’t try to push my chicken across the road.

2008-06-02T11:31:00.001-07:00

I am a die-hard Chick-fil-A fan. If you don’t believe me, come check out my little stuffed cow reminding me to “Eat Mor Chikin,” sitting on the shelf in my pod. I have so many emotional ties to this fast food franchise it’s almost pathetic. (Almost.) When my husband and I first started dating, we dined there religiously. As we got older and our metabolisms got slower, we had to cut back. But we still savor the moments when we do indulge in their delicious two-pickle chicken sandwiches and creamy “hand-spun” milkshakes. Other evidence of my obsession: I get mad at my husband if he eats there without me. A friend wanted to repay me for a favor and knew the best way to show his appreciation was with a Chick-fil-A chocolate milkshake. I could go on, but I think I’ve painted a pretty clear picture. And provided the soapbox for the following rant.

Why did I just confess my undying love for this restaurant chain? Because a certain BURGER joint is attempting to rip off Chick-fil-A’s signature sandwich, and I must speak out against this atrocity. After 50+ years of the Big Mac, the Egg McMuffin and even the McRib, McDonald’s has introduced its “Southern Style Chicken Sandwich and Biscuit.” Guess what comes on this imposter? Two pickles. Give it up Mickey D’s. No one’s going to choose your imitation over the original.

P.S. If I see a single waffle fry or “hand-spun” milkshake under the golden arches, I’ll serve you up the unhappiest meal you’ve ever tasted.

My First Job: Rubber bands, black hands and the road to my future

2008-05-06T08:03:00.000-07:00

I started working at the tender age of 11. It was my mother’s idea and, to this day, I’m not sure what prompted it. All I remember was her suggesting that I get a paper route like my “responsible and industrious” friend Hannah. Mom pitched the plan to me, listing all of the potential benefits: extra money, experience to put on my resume, fresh air and exercise. After calculating my expected salary — $4 a delivery day x 8 deliveries a month = $32 — and imagining all of the Barbie clothes, Twix bars and X-men cards I could buy, I took on the route for my neighborhood, which included approximately 80 houses. The paper was a bi-weekly classified ads publication called The Village Advocate. In a grandiose and vainglorious way, I get an unwarranted sense of affirmation when I point out that my first job was in journalism. Sort of.

My deliveries were every Sunday morning and every Wednesday afternoon. Sundays I would wake up at 6:30 a.m., dress according to the weather (seven layers in the winter, shorts in the summer) and prepare myself for a grueling hour and a half of hard labor. Wednesday afternoons were easier because Mom hired an assistant to help me — my nine-year-old brother. Since we couldn’t ride bicycles while carrying the heavy bags of papers, we’d sometimes convince our older brother to drive alongside us, and we’d run back and forth to the car, grabbing papers and attaching them to doorknobs. It cut the delivery time in half. Sundays were the worst. Usually colder, darker and always lonelier, I would trudge along in the wee hours of the morning lugging the heavy papers and wishing that I could throw them in the driveway like normal paper carriers do. (The Advocate wasn’t to be put anywhere but on the recipient’s doorknob, attached by the rubber band. It couldn’t go in the driveway, the mailbox or the bushes. As a result of this rule, I have a very funny story. Keep reading, and I promise I’ll put it at the end.)

In addition to delivering the papers, I had to roll them. The day before my delivery, someone from the Village Advocate would leave several stacks of the publication on our front porch. Each paper had to be rolled and bound with a green rubber band. I remember the smell of the newsprint, the pungent aroma of the rubber bands. Afterwards my hands would be totally black.

I worked for the Village Advocate ‘til I was 15, and they went out of business. I did get a pay increase over my four-year tenure, although I think I was only making about $50 a month towards the end. But the value that I got out of the experience was worth its weight in paper. The lessons I learned? Hard work is good for you, challenges stretch you and obstacles are opportunities to think creatively. And the road to success can’t be traveled by bike.

Promised anecdote: One of the houses on my route had double front doors. Since I hated the process of pulling the rubber band away from the paper and trying to attach it to the doorknob, at this house I would slide the paper through both door handles. Seemed very convenient and logical to me. One morning, I found a note outside the house that said, “Please stop sliding the paper through both handles, it barricades us in.”

Boycott your own brand

2008-04-24T12:27:00.000-07:00

So you want to position your product as “fun.” Join the club. There are a million brands and products out there boasting their ability to deliver fun: high-tech gadgets, sports cars, a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers. How do you differentiate your “fun” product from all the rest? You could launch a full-blown attack against its “serious fun-ness.”

This may seem counterintuitive. Why would you want to raise opposition to your brand? Because consumers respond well to companies who don’t take themselves too seriously — especially when juxtaposed against an individual or organization that takes itself uber-seriously. The key to successfully pulling off this type of advertising is creating the quintessential killjoy.

Welcome to www.nolaf.org. NOLAF (National Organization for Legislation Against Fun) is a fictional, yet somewhat frighteningly believable grassroots group founded to stamp out all things fun. Their public enemy #1? Tostitos chips and dip. This McCarthyesque group of characters are bound and determined to crush the crispy brand to bits, eradicating it and its enjoyable effects. Besides the brilliant casting, flawless execution, high quality production, attention to detail and dry, witty humor, the concept behind this site is pure gold. If you don’t eat Tostitos chips and dip, you are practically in league with NOLAF. Or at least you’re one of their mindless guinea pigs (dressed like the 1970s Olympic track team but not nearly in as good of shape).

The beauty of this site is the barely visible Tostitos brand. They aren’t using the site to sell the brand; it was created for the sheer pleasure of the visitor. I clicked on everything because I couldn’t get enough of the head honcho (love child of Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute) and his geezer sidekick.

By creating an anti-fun group that despises their brand and giving their target a chance to get in on the joke, Tostitos proves that it is a very “fun” chip.

Whose your baby?

2008-04-24T12:24:00.000-07:00

I don’t know a lot about search engines. And I don’t know anything about becoming a parent. But the combination of the two is fascinating. It seems search engines are becoming fruitful in the area of well…being fruitful and multiplying. A Web site called Nymbler can find the perfect name for your unborn child. Based on names that you enter, the engine will generate new names that you may not have thought of or even heard of before.

Let me include a disclaimer here since I am of childbearing age and have been married for more than five years (apparently the longest a married couple should remain childless): children are not in our near future. But this site is so much fun. First I entered some names I have always liked: Wyatt, Lucas, Maggie, etc. It came up with some good results, all of which seemed like names I would consider. Then I started messing with it. I entered names like Star, Precious, Birdie (it does have some limitations: Flower and Sassy do not exist in the database). The results? Princess, Emerald and Whisper were some of my favorites. Imagine the possibilities: you could use this site to find a name for your pet, your alter ego or even a stage name for when you become a contestant on American Idol.

The voodoo behind this search wizardry is even cooler than the site. Nymbler combines the research and analysis of a human expert with a technology called Hunch Engine, developed by Icosystem, a company based in Cambridge, Mass. The Hunch Engine works on a genetic algorithm. In their words, this innovative technology “solves the dilemma of searching when you don’t really know what you are looking for, but you’ll know it when you find it.” That is me every day of my life. Clothes, home décor, food, shoes, my car keys (wait, that doesn’t really apply here). The algorithm takes the information you give it and identifies subtle patterns. Then it gives you personalized suggestions.

If you haven’t been impressed yet, get ready. The Hunch Engine is trainable. It can be taught to recognize patterns in all sorts of input. Without getting too sci-fi, this search engine can get inside your head and tell you what you will like. Hunch Engine responds to what you give it, but it brings you new ideas, new options in multiple nuances.

I’m hooked. Now I just have to have enough children to use all of these great names.

Drink responsibly

2008-04-24T12:23:00.000-07:00

While you may associate this message with the consumption of alcohol, it seems that a case is being made to apply it to the most basic of beverages. Water. Yesterday in Ad Age, there was a story about a marketing shop and a PR agency that have joined forces to stop the darling of the beverage industry from bottling and selling water.

Mark DiMassimo and Eric Yaverbaum (whose last name sounds like a party drink) have launched an awareness campaign they’re calling Tappening. Basically it’s an anti-bottled-water campaign targeting, as of now, Coca-Cola. The campaign encourages people to drink tap water and buy reusable bottles. Conveniently, they’ve got some for sale that say, “Think Global. Drink Local.” and “What’s Tappening?” Catchy, huh?

Right now DiMassimo and Yaverbaum are planning to collect 1 million used water bottles, stuff them with their message and deliver them to the new CEO of Coke, Muhtar Kent. Their reason for targeting Coke is that it’s the big fish. The goal behind Tappening isn’t to get the beverage companies to recycle bottles. Coke has already agreed to do that. Tappening is about decreasing the demand for bottled water by getting people to stop buying it and helping restaurants and delis profit from the sales of tap water.

All of this sounds great but as a resident of North Carolina, one of many Southern states experiencing the worst drought in recent history, I have to wonder if this course of action is in fact the “responsible” one. I’ve got seven or eight cases of bottled water in my pantry right now. And if it doesn’t start raining soon, I’m going to buy more. It just goes to show that being environmentally responsible isn’t as easy as it seems.

Link to article: http://adage.com/article?article_id=122949

Smart Brand Extensions Aren’t a Stretch

2008-04-24T12:21:00.000-07:00

Precious Moments caskets and urns? That’s just creepy. Who would want those big-headed, doe-eyed children following them into the afterlife? And based on a survey conducted by TippingSprung, a branding company based in New York, it was agreed; this brand extension was DOA.

TippingSprung surveyed 785 marketing executives to get their thoughts on the best and worst brand extensions of last year. Some of the best? Newman’s Own Wines, Curves cereal, PetSmart’s Pet Hotel and Food Network’s kitchenware. And the worst? Danny Devito Limoncello. Disney’s Party Fizz (a bubbly, non-alcoholic party drink) and the Humane Society’s Dog Lovers Wine Club. And coming in dead last, Funeral by Precious Moments. (Sorry for all the puns, it’s just too easy).

The strategy for a great brand extension marries the brand equity with a new marketing opportunity. That may seem intuitive, but many brands get greedy when they see a growing trend. They try to force a connection hoping for a piece of the revenue pie. It is an agency’s responsibility to help their clients avoid the pitfalls and find the right brand extensions. The ones that enhance brands, and excite their customers. And ultimately result in an increased bottom line.

Sometimes it isn’t so obvious at the inception. Who would have thought that Bic, which originally sold ballpoint pens, would easily enter the disposable lighter and razor categories? But “quality disposable household items” fit the brand equity they had created with their original product.

The successful brand extensions will make you say, “Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense. They were made for each other.”

Of course, I have to pitch a couple of my ideas:

1.American Airlines Luggage: The suitcases and bags have tracking devices sewn into them. Even if they lose your luggage, you can rest easy knowing now they can find it.
2.Taco Bell should offer an after meal Gas-X strip. (I see a partnership around the corner!)
3.Britney Spears Crotch-less Panties. (too far?)
4.And finally: I would love to own a limited edition Vera Wang Lexus (I know, I know – but wouldn’t it be lovely?)

Article link: http://publications.mediapost.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=Articles.san&s=74472&Nid=38370&p=460755

Aside

2008-04-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. I said the next series of blogs would be about "My Firsts," and I promise that I am in the process of writing the initial one. But these posts have already been written for my company's blog, so I'm going to get more mileage out of them and post them here too. See above.

Blogging: Shame and remorse

2008-04-16T06:42:00.000-07:00

I write these words with acute guilt. It has been too long. Months of unending work obligations and mental, physical and emotional exhaustion have prevented me from adding to my woefully sparse collection of posts for 2008. The worst part is that I hate excuses. However valid they may be, I always feel that they're lame. But guilt is nonproductive. So I drop it here and move forward with good intentions.

I have been trying to hold on to the various post ideas that have surfaced throughout my absence. Ideas that pop into my mind and make me say, "That would be a good blog subject."

So the next series of posts (that will appear on a regular, frequent basis) are going to be about "My Firsts." Lately, a strong desire to record the first time I experienced things has been niggling me.

Stay tune for the first of "My Firsts."

A lasting impression

2008-02-12T19:19:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is coming up. Yeah, I know some people hate it, some people love it. When I was growing up, Valentine's Day represented possibility. The chance that someone would confess that they had loved me for years (when you are in the fifth grade that isn't a lot of years, but still). The chance that someone would send me flowers, surprise me with a gift or a love letter.

My husband has continued to make Valentine's Day special for me. Today, I had lunch with a co-worker and we talked about our spouses. He told me how he met his wife and how they have a beautiful little girl. I, in turn, told him about meeting my husband, our relationship and our six years of our marriage. I confessed to him, as I have to others that I think my husband and I were too young when we got married. The amazing thing is, it wasn't a mistake. Now, it didn't happen like it does in the movies, where all of a sudden the music swells, the birds sing and your hair looks perfect every day. We had to work at it. We still have to work at it. But honestly, he makes me a better person. We bring out the best in one another. I couldn't ask for a better Valentine.

Club Read (pronounced past-tense)

2008-01-22T18:41:00.000-08:00

Bad pun, I know. I seem to be suffering as of late from a case of punitis.

So, I am starting a book club with one of my fellow writers at work. I have dreamed of leading a book club for years. Ok, I won't be leading it, but I will be co-leading it, which still counts as dream fulfillment. I've been carefully reviewing all of the books I have ever read in search of the perfect first pick for our club. Well, not really reviewing all of them.

I wish I had kept count of all the books I have read. I imagine it is close to 1 million, knowing that is mathematically impossible. But it feels like that many. And at the same time it feels like only a drop in the bucket. I remember as a child standing in the library wishing that I could read every single book (just in the young adult section, which is probably the smallest section in the library). I even set out to accomplish that goal. My plan was to start at A and work my way alphabetically from the first shelf all the way to the back. So each trip I would check-out the next ten that came after the ones I had just finished.

I imagine you've already detected the flaw in my plan. Any books that were checked out by other patrons (how dare they!) would be missed by me. And there was no way to tell unless I kept a detailed list of every title that I had read and then meticulously checked that list against the card catalog (this was before computers at the library). I wasn't that organized a the tender age of eleven. I can tell you with 99.9% certainty that while I can't tell you how many books I've read or list all the titles for you, I can remember whether I've read a book or not by reading the first page.

So what will the first book be? Let's start with A...

Year Behind, Year Ahead

2008-01-06T07:13:00.000-08:00

A brief note before I get into this post. I swear there is a post missing. I wrote one last week and it is gone. I wonder what happened to it. Did it wander off after I finished writing it? Did it get the notion to become a part of another blog because it didn't feel like it fit in with the rest of my posts? Did it fall down a rabbit hole and is at this very moment experiencing an adventure that will make the contents of itself seem dull and bland?

Wherever you are post I hope you are enjoying yourself and if you feel so inclined I would love to have you back. After all I did create you. Mmmm.... that's what He says.

Ok, I should have posted more over the holidays. One would think that with the numerous days I have had off from work that I would have had time to write riveting material for my blog. But I was caught in the hustling and bustling that is the month of December. So here is a recap of what I was doing and what I should have been posting about:

Christmas

Every year my husband and I travel to Memphis for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. This was our year to go for Christmas. My husband comes from a very large family. He is one of seven children. His three older sisters and one younger sister have a total of fourteen kids between them. His younger brother and his wife are expecting their first. As you can probably figure out holidays with his family are pretty lively to say the least. In addition to all of those siblings and nieces and nephews (or should I say NEPHEWS and nieces, there are only 2 girls). Michael's parents are divorced and both have remarried. So that brings step-siblings, their spouses and their children into the picture. And to top it off, Michael's mom and step-dad adopted four children from Russia two years ago.

So I am used to celebrating the holidays with a crowd. But this year was different. All of Michael's sisters and their families have moved to Utah and none of them were able to be in Memphis for Christmas this year. And his younger brother and his pregnant wife weren't able to travel because she is due in a couple of weeks (they live in NC close to us). So it was Michael and me. We were the ones coming home for Christmas. We were it.

It was nice. A little bit quieter and a little less frantic. But also a little sad for his parents. You could tell that they missed their grandchildren and their other children.

My husband and I often have deep conversations when we travel to Memphis. I don't know if it is because of the long spans of time spent driving (we have to travel back and forth between his parents' houses and they live about 45 minutes apart) or if it is because of the time of year or if it is just because we are around his family so we are thinking about "family" type things. But this time we started talking about divorce and how destructive it is. We've had this conversation before. Michael's parents' divorce was very hurtful for him. He was only fifteen when it happened and he said that there were no signs that anything was wrong. He thought his parents were happy.

All in all the trip for us was good. We always take things home with us that can't be packed in our suitcases, they can only be tucked away in our hearts.

Chris-musts

2007-12-17T19:40:00.000-08:00

There are certain things that give me the Christmas spirit. I know that Christmas is about more than decorations and presents and holiday shopping. But there are certain aspects of every holiday cliche that add up to make me feel like Christmas is really here.

Certain songs, smells, sights and flavors. Things from my childhood. Making sugar cookies and decorating them. Getting the Toy R Us catalog and circling tons of toys knowing that I wouldn't get them all but enjoying myself none-the-less. Watching Christmas plays, going caroling with friends, visiting my relatives that I didn't see any other time of the year. Waiting for my grand dad to show up on Christmas morning so we could start opening the presents.

I miss the days when Christmas consumed my entire month of December. Every day moved slowly from December 1st all the way up until the 24th. But all that waiting was part of what made the experience wonderful. Christmas taught me that anticipation is almost as good as what you are anticipating.

So now, I don't want to rush. I want to savor every moment of anticipation down to the last one.

A Short Story

2007-12-04T18:02:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time there was a little girl with long golden hair. The little girl lived with her mother and father and her brother, who was two years older than her. One day the little girl was getting ready for school and her brother told her that she'd better hurry or they would be late. So the little girl grabbed her things and ran out the door. When she got outside, she saw that her brother had already started down the road towards school. The little girl was very frightened of being alone outside of their yard. She hated it when cars breezed past her or when she saw lone men walking down the road towards her.

She tried to catch up with her brother, yelling his name and begging for him to slow down. But it seemed the louder she yelled the faster he walked. Giving up on catching him she started to sing to herself to distract her from being afraid as she walked. Finally the school was in sight and she heaved a huge sigh of relief. When she stepped off the curb at the crosswalk she fell and twisted her ankle. The crossing guard said he would help her to the nurses' office. When the little girl got to the nurses' office she told the nurse that her brother went to that he would know what to do.

The nurse sent a messenger to get her brother from the classroom. When the messenger came back he looked confused. I couldn't find your brother in that class he said. The little girl felt frightened. She forgot about her twisted ankle and started to worry about her missing brother. The school principal called her parents and they came to the school immediately. While they were glad the little girl's ankle wasn't hurt too badly they were extremely distressed that there son was not at the school and no one seemed to know where he was.

After three days there was still no sign of the little girl's brother. The police had sent out alerts to surrounding areas for people to be on the look out for the lost boy. The girl's parents had asked all of their friends to pray that their son would be returned to them unharmed. The little girl began to feel guilty. If she had not been late she might have been able to keep her brother from going missing. There may have been something she could have done.

Finally after a week the police got a call that a boy fitting her brother's description had been picked up at an arcade three states away. When they brought him home he was smiling and looked very smug. Why did you leave the little girl asked. To teach you a lesson. But I was so worried about you. Mom and Dad were so worried. We cried and prayed that you would come home and all that time you were off having a good time not thinking about us at all.

The little girl stopped worrying about her brother because she was so angry at him. Whenever he would ask her if she wanted to play she would shake her head furiously and stomp away. After a month or so her brother got very sick. He was in bed all the time and the doctor came every day to check on him. One day she heard the doctor talking to her mother. I don't know what is wrong with him but he isn't getting any better. I think it may have been something that he picked up when he ran away from home. The little girl didn't know what to think. Again she felt guilty. Her brother only ran away to teach her a lesson about making him wait for her. And because he ran away he got sick.

She went crying to her mother saying I'm sorry over and over again. Her mother caught her in her arms and told the little girl that it wasn't her fault. That her brother had made the choice to run away, to be unsafe, to but himself at risk. It wasn't the little girl's fault that her brother was lying in the bed unable to get up and play.

All the same the little girl wished that she hadn't been late for school that day. Because maybe, maybe her brother would have been ok.

Thanks to Give

2007-11-26T19:06:00.001-08:00

Thank you. Many thanks. Thanks a million. Merci. Gracias. Much appreciated. I'm grateful. You didn't have to.

I spend at least 75% of my time worrying about the things I don't have. The things that aren't happening. The things that bother me. The things that upset me. I spend another 24.9% of the time coming up with new things I can complain about. I'm tired, I'm stressed, I wish I could lose weight, I want a nicer car, I want more stuff in my house, closet, cabinets, refrigerator, etc. etc. ad infititum. I hate the fact that for the most part I forget about all of the things in my life that are good, great, even wonderful.

Things that I would definately notice if they were gone. More than I notice the things that I don't have now.

Book Love

2007-11-20T18:44:00.000-08:00

This will be the first of many posts about books, I am sure. Sunday night, my husband and I were over at our best friends' house having dinner. Their sweet little 18 month old boy pulled a small children's book out of the bookcase for me to read to him. It was one of those little square books with one word on each page. As I read it to him and he helped me turn the pages, I realized something. I want to read to my children. I mean really read. When I have kids they will know books.

My mother read to me every night when I was a little girl. I would memorize what was on each page as she would read the same books over and over. I don't remember when I stopped copying what she said and actually started reading the words on the page. It was such a seamless transition. Books have been a huge part of my life even before I could read them.

After reading Noah the story about Corduroy Bear on the go, I began to think about all the books that I wanted to read to my future, yet-to-be-conceived offspring. The Berenstain Bears, Ameila Bedelia, Madeline, Dr. Seuss, Goodnight Moon, Harold and the Purple Crayon, Where the Wild Things Are and on and on. Then there are the "older kid" books I want to read to them. Harriet the Spy, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, The Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, Charlotte's Web, Where the Red Fern Grows and on and on. Then I realized that I don't just want them to love to read. I want them to love to read with me.

I want to be beside them when they discover the same joys I found, in the books I read as a child.

Dying of Embarassment

2007-11-18T21:45:00.000-08:00

I felt my face heating up. A drop of sweat trickled down my back. Once I started to get embarrassed there was no stopping it.

This time last year I was preparing to finish my final fall semester at UNC. I was taking copywriting, the hook on which my future career hung. Or so I thought. Now I was in that same room talking to my old teachers' current students about working as a "copywriter." But I knew and they knew that I was not some seasoned advertising wordsmith with sage wisdom to impart to their sponge-like minds. No. I was dying up there.

It didn't help that my teacher was twenty minutes late and I had to start the class without him. There they all were, sitting there, comfortable with each other, laughing, talking, reading the newspaper. I opened my mouth to speak. "Bill called and told me he would be late and that I should start without him." My statement was greeted by looks that were slightly past blank. A couple of students rolled their eyes. One guy asked, "Did he do this to you when you were in his class?" "I think he was late once, about forty-five minutes," I said, thinking, 'Great at least they're interacting with me.' "And you waited?" he said, in disbelief. Once again I was on the outside.

At 9:30 I stood up. "Ok, I am going to go ahead and start." And I did. I was done with everything I could think to say in about twelve and a half minutes. And Bill was still not there. "Are there any questions?" Part of me hoped there were and the other part just wanted to bolt out of the room. I could feel my face burning. Sweat gathering underneath my arms. 'Oh no,' I thought. I had deliberately worn this shirt anticipating the nervous sweating. But I could tell that it wasn't working. Now is a good time to stop and explain.

For the past two years I have suddenly and inexplicably started sweating when I get stressed out. It doesn't matter what the temperature is or whether I am moving around or sitting stock still. And it is worst under my arms. The first time it happened I was at a baby shower for my best friend's sister. It was at a ritzy house with all of her sister's rich friends and I felt a little out-of-place. I excused myself to go to the restroom and when I looked in the mirror I was mortified. I had sweat rings that you could see even with my arms down.

And that was what was happening now in front of this group of students I was supposed to be impressing. My teacher finally arrived carrying a cup of hot chocolate and a bottle of ice cold water for me. I needed the water and was grateful to finally be able to remedy the cotton mouth that was plaguing me also. Apparently when I get nervous the water from my mouth leaks out through my sweat glands under my arms.

I kept my arms crossed as much as I could. When it was finally over I put on my sweater that I had worn into the room. Even though I was sweating profusely, the sweater covered up the rings that were expanding across the front of my shirt at this point.

Here is the worst part of all of this. I will never know which ones noticed and which ones didn't. I don't know if my teacher noticed. I want to believe that none of them saw it. But no one would tell me if they had. And I wasn't going to ask.

Why is it that the things we are most embarrassed about are the things that we can do absolutely nothing to change?

*Note. If you read this, don't tell me that you did.

Just Desserts

2007-11-11T05:45:00.000-08:00

I deserve it. I really do. I worked hard to get to where I am. I've overcome trials and obstacles. I've fought battles and made sacrifices. I deserve everything I have.

Hogwash.

I long to believe that I deserve even some of it. I want to be able to weigh the good deeds I have done against the mistakes and errors I have made (or the deliberately mean and spiteful wrongs I have committed) and see that I'm a decent person and worthy of all the rewards I have been given.

Of course I don't deserve any of the negative things. Woe is me when life is difficult and unfair. Why me? Am I such a terrible person that I should be put through struggles and frustrations?

Secretly, I cling to the false hope that I deserve to have an easy, full and satisfying life. Because doesn't that mean nothing bad will happen to me? If I deserve blessing than I won't receive tribulation or persecution. Right? I won't have to experience loss, despair or pain.

But that isn't the promise. The promise is that I'll never be alone, I'll never be forsaken. I'll be preserved. Because who he is and what he has done replaces who I am and what I have done. Which is more than I deserve.

Directionally Challenged

2007-11-06T18:51:00.000-08:00

Following directions is something I have always been good at. When I was in elementary school, teachers would periodically give "trick tests" that were designed to see if we could follow directions. The trick was that if you read all of the directions first you would find that the last one told you to disregard all of the previous directions and simply write your name on the back of the paper. I got very good at recognizing these deceptive tools of teachery (yes I meant to spell that like "teacher").

Not only am I good at following directions, I like to follow directions. For instance, when I am driving I prefer to have my mapquest printout in hand telling me where to turn next. I feel safe when I am following directions. I trust in them. Directions tell me how to get to my new doctor's office, bake cookies, program my cellphone, play a game or use that crazy looking exercise machine at the gym. Directions are a good thing.

But there aren't directions for everything. I don't know about you but that makes me angry. And I tend to focus that anger on someone in particular. You know who I am talking about. The one who knows the plans he has for us. Plans to give us a hope and a future and not to harm us. Well if he knows the path my life will take then why doesn't he give me directions? All he has to do is write it down step-by-step and I would be set. No more wandering around wondering what the heck is going on in my life. No more pondering the heart of God to discover what his desires are. No more asking him for guidance and patiently (sort of) waiting for him to speak in a still small voice.

Imagine how easy that would be. How orderly, how simple, how logical that would be. How sterile, how dispassionate, how mechanical that would be. How boring, how mundane, how lonely that would be.

Directions can be good. But mapquest has gotten me lost more than once. He never has.

Saving Time

2007-11-05T18:15:00.000-08:00

Daylight savings time. When we set the clocks back every year, I start to ponder the mystery of time and that sometimes leads to interesting ideas. This year: savings accounts for time. How would it work? Well it is still in the early planning stages but I am proposing that it be modeled after an actual banking account where you can make deposits and withdrawals. Let's explore this further with a real-life scenario.

Monday at work I have an hour-long meeting. Now I only really pay attention for about 40-45 minutes. The rest of the time the other meeting participants are talking about things that don't pertain to me yet I can't leave. That would be horribly rude. But if I had a time savings account I could deposit those "unused" minutes for withdrawal later when I desperately needed/wanted them. This deposit mechanism would be ideal for those times when you are waiting to be seated at a restaurant, standing in the never ending line at Costco on Saturday afternoons or sitting on hold while your cellphone provider tries to determine why they overbilled you $1200.

The withdrawal mechanism would work splendidly on mornings when it is so cold that you want to burrow under the covers till summertime. (OF course you would have to save up for a long time to be able to hibernate for three months straight). It would also be great for fast-approaching deadlines, lazy Sunday afternoons with your spouse, or those moments that are so life-defining you wish they would last forever.

But alas time does not work this way. We only have the present. We don't get to borrow time, gamble with time or save it up for a rainy day. Yet it is important to note the parallels between time and money. (I am not the first to notice this hence the phrase "time is money" which is less of a parallel and more of a metaphor.) We can waste it, spend it, lose it and my favorite, invest it. Time comes to us as moments. We can't save them but we can choose to use them wisely.

What should I do next?

Lost and Found

2007-11-03T09:02:00.000-07:00

A true tale of irony. Today, I decided it was time to once again pull myself up by the blogstraps and diligently start posting everyday. (Not that I really have ever done that successfully, but this time will be different). Although I wasn't quite sure what I was going to write about, I proceeded to log-in to my account with blind faith that some tidbit would miraculously reveal itself.

And it did. But not how I expected it to.

My log-in attempt was rejected. I had neglected my blogging for so long that I couldn't remember my username. I tried every imaginable combination of my various email addresses and typical passwords sure that one of them would work. But every attempt was fruitless. I began to panic. Sure, my collection of postings was meager at best, but to lose my small beginnings would be a blow to my motivation. I might surely give up.

I spent the next hour. Yes, you read that correctly, the next hour following blogger.com's commands to help me unearth my blog from the archives of some database in God Knows Where. Finally after going in cyber circles, blogger.com found my blog.

And now for the first twist of irony.

My username and password for my blog are the same ones I use to log in to my primary email account. I was sure I had tried that. Either I am losing my mind or blogger.com is playing mean games that I don't wish to be a part of. But that is neither here nor there. I found my blog and that is what matters.

And now for the second twist of irony. Losing my blog, gave me something to blog about.

Hmmm...Let that sink in.

Many Days Have Passed

2007-07-27T14:16:00.000-07:00

We just moved. Moving has a way of causing you to inventory your life. First there is the physical act of handling every article that you possess. What will you keep? What needs to go? But it is more than that. You ask yourself, where have I been? Where am I going? All the experiences that you had in that house flood your mind. The precious, the tender, the painful, the joyful, the dark. All are there, keeping you company as you empty the rooms and fill the boxes. You remember yourself as you were when you came to the house. Have I changed? How have I changed? Will I change in my new house? Do I like who I've become? I do know this, I am not done changing. But I want to change for the better. I don't want to hold on to anger, bitterness or hurt. Am I? I think I might be. Looks like I have more stuff to get rid of.

After Many, Many Days.

2007-06-08T11:33:00.000-07:00

I have re-entered the working world. After an eighteenth month break, I had forgotten what it was like. This time around things are different. The job feels weighty, important and at times precarious.There is no time for boredom. And with every project I am given I feel a responsibility to do my very best. With this responsibility comes insecurity. What if I can't? It's not like entering data into a computer and knowing that when you come to the end, if it's entered correctly, then you have succeeded. There really is no RIGHT way to do my job. The end of your labor produces either a good idea, a bad idea or in the worst case, no idea.

In the world you have three types of people: those who are confident that they do everything well, those who are insecure about everything they do and those who are oblivious. Sometimes I wish I was the oblivious type. Then I would never feel paralyzed by my insecurity. I am certain that I don't want to be the (overly)confident person because they are a pain in the hindquarters. No one likes to be around someone who thinks that every brain fart or stray thought they have is brilliant.

What I really want to be is humbly confident.

I want to be able to believe that I have good ideas while realizing that I don't have ALL the good ideas. Right now I feel like I've got neither. I know it's not true. Unfortunately that knowledge isn't doing much for me yet.

Another Pattern Foiled

2007-05-18T16:43:00.000-07:00

Consistency is eluding me. I will not lie, I have not always triumphed in that area. But persistence is another matter all together. I can be persistent to the point of stubbornness. Just ask my husband...and my parents...and my siblings...and everyone else who knows me.

I have rediscovered my love for scrapbooking. It comes in surges. I open up the drawer that holds all my supplies. I gaze at the lovely pages I have created in the past. I look at the pictures that still need a page designed for them. And here it comes. The desire to go to A.C. Moore, roam the aisles and purchase way too much scrapbooking paraphernalia. I swear if you can put it on a piece of paper they have discovered a way to make it pertain to scrapbooking. I bought a piece of paper that looks like the diamond board on my husband's truck so that I could do a tribute page to his favorite thing in the world...besides me of course (written with sarcasm and a little hint of cheesiness).

I went to A.C. Moore today with my friend Hannah. I love Hannah. We can always talk about anything. Even depressing things. It's good to have a friend that you can discuss depressing things with. There are some friends who are great for laughing and goofing off. But you need those friends who you can talk soberly with. Hannah also loves to laugh and be goofy. But when I need to tell her the not so pretty stuff about my life, she listens with the same comfortable ear. Friends like that are rare.

Bonus Day

2007-05-16T19:36:00.000-07:00

So, now that I've determined that I will write every other day, this post counts as a bonus. Lucky you, I know. You were waiting desperately for tomorrow but now you can rejoice because it won't be an entire day before you get to read my witty prose.

Tonight we went to look at the first house on our house hunt. On a scale of 1 - 10 I give it a 7. Nice property. Small rooms :((especially living room and kitchen/dining room). Popcorn ceilings (YECH). This is going to be very difficult. Buying a first house is like getting your first boyfriend. You're so happy to have one that you look past the knobby knees, big ears and unibrow. But on your second house you get picky. Your first house opens your eyes to what you love and what you never want to live with again. Slab foundation? Uh uh. Crawl space is the only thing for us. Small front yard? Nope. We want to be able to spit from our front door without hitting the curb.

I really want the next house we move into to be the house where we raise our children. Maybe that will happen, maybe not. I have learned that you can't grasp hold of a desire and be unwilling to let it go. Hold it with an open hand.

In the mean time am I willing to trade a small closet for a big front porch?

Every Other Day...

2007-05-15T17:08:00.000-07:00

So apparently I have decided to ease into this endeavor by writing every other day. Now that I know that, I can proceed without guilt for missing yesterday.

My husband and I were on vacation in Asheville, N.C. which is why I missed my post yesterday. (Not that I need a justification as was settled above). It has become very obvious to me that I was created to dwell in luxurious surroundings. Point in case, my husband and I were so lucky as to be given an evening at the Grove Park Inn, which is nestled in the Smoky Mountains near the Biltmore Estate. Upon arrival at this inn, I felt like I had died and gone to where I was supposed to have been my whole life. The place was intoxicating. The bed. The scenery. The seclusion. The pampering. The private workout facilities. The spa (which we didn't get to use because it was extra, but that made me feel luxurious just by its very presence on OUR floor). The amazing dinner. The bathrobes. The bed. Did I already say the bed? And then there was the bed.

The bed was so huge that my husband had to traverse a small valley to reach over and snuggle with me this morning. Which I must say was nice. Unfortunately the longer I've been married the more I want my own space in the bed. Do not misinterpret this. I ADORE snuggling and spooning with my husband(among other affectionate pastimes that we enjoy). But for some reason when it is time to sleep I need to be untouched. He does not care much for this new development and it really breaks my heart that it has become this way. But if I am to sleep then he must remain on his side. So back to this bed. I couldn't even tell when he moved during the night. IT was the perfect balance between soft and firm. It felt like the bed was holding me in a suspended state of relaxation. The pillows were perfect. Somehow the temperature maintained in the bed was just right for my body. I was never too hot or too cold.

My husband and I checked the mattress to see what brand it was so that we could rush to the closest mattress store and buy one. There was no tag. We grieved. Then my husband made the astute observation that if we did indeed buy a bed like this amazing bed that we spent one heavenly night in...it would make it really hard to get up in the morning. Which we definitely don't need.

So goodbye bed. I hope to be back to visit you soon.

So Much For Day 2

2007-05-13T08:13:00.000-07:00

I fell off the wagon after the first day. This doesn't bode well for my goal of daily writing. Oh well I think there should be some mercy given for extenuating circumstances.

For example, my in-laws came in to town on Friday night (Day1). After a lot of gabbing and catching-up we didn't get to sleep till late. Yesterday morning me, my mom, my sister-in-law and my husband's step-mom went to get manis and pedis. To those who aren't in the know, that's manicures and pedicures. It was my mom's first manicure. She did great and it turned out beautifully. We all had a luxurious time and felt unusually pampered when we left. After parting ways with my mom, the rest of us went to meet our male counterparts for an afternoon of family fun.

But something terrible was just around the corner and we were none the wiser. All seven of us piled into my father-in-law's mini-van and headed to the bowling alley. We had just rented our shoes and were setting up the lanes when Michael's step-mom slipped on a loose step and fell on her ankle. We all rushed into action. Was she ok? Could she feel her toes? "Oh no, it looks broken," my sister-in-law said. But she wasn't crying. And she could move her toes. Maybe it was just sprained.

The EMTs came and said, "You need to get it x-rayed because we can't tell you if it's broken or not." So off to the hospital (after getting a refund, filling out an accident report and taking pictures of the loose step).

Three hours later. Yep, it's broken in two places and the tendon is torn in two places. Oh no. Poor Glenda. She came all this way to see us and she spends five hours at the hospital and is going home in a cast.

I am always amazed at how unexpected things can happen when we are just going about our lives.

Day 1

2007-05-11T11:30:00.000-07:00

I have started this blog in hopes that it will be a refining tool. In order to be a good writer one must write and write often. I have been a bad writer. Not in the sense that my writing is awful or awkward but because I have transgressed the cardinal rule of good writers. Do it everyday or else you won't. So this is day one. So far, so good.

I found out Tuesday that I have a job. This is good because I am graduating Sunday and finding a job was the next step in the Martin plan. This job, that I now have, is amazing. What is amazing about it is that this job is exactly what I had hoped for when I enrolled in UNC's Journalism school. I wanted to be a copywriter at an ad agency and my new position is an entry level copywriter at an ad agency. Many people (who will remain unnamed) told me I couldn't get a job doing this unless I went to portfolio school. For me that was not an option. So my alternative to portfolio school was trusting God. Bummer. You never know what He is going to do when you trust Him to take over. It could look nothing like what you were hoping for. But what I keep being reminded, by my life, is that what happens when you trust God is amazing. And this time it did look exactly like what I was hoping for.

God makes a way where there is none.