Too Much?

"Perhaps too much of everything is as bad as too little." Edna Ferber, American novelist and playwright (1885 - 1968)

So I've decided to work my way through a list of writing exercises that I read in Oprah magazine over the summer. "O" is, regardless of what you think of her show and persona, a magazine full of great articles and interesting reading. The suggestions appeared in the sidebar of an article called "How to Write Your Own Memoir," and while that is something I'm not planning to tackle any time soon, I thought the there were some great 'writing starters' that I could use here.
"Write two pages of what you have too much of." Well, one thing I know about being grown ups--once you've reached your 40's in America, most of us have too much of something in our lives. Even though my hubby and I are not 'pack rat' people*, (well, ok I am a little. He will throw out a magazine before I ever open it if I let it sit out in the open too long!) I realized there are things I have that most people would probably consider just too much.

Hmmm...2 pages sounded daunting and not really in keeping with blogging style, so I decided to take pictures to illustrate.

We own quite a few DVD's. Hubby buys most of them and often gets them for gifts. There are 3 main criteria:
1. They have to be big blockbuster type movies and/or
2. They have to be sci fi or fantasy type, or a major pixar-type animated movie
3. They have to be ones we can imagine watching more than one more time

There are a lot like this:









There are not nearly enough like this. Anybody want the Pilates for Dummies?







We also have a lot of 80's and 90's music CD's. Ugh. Bruce Hornsby, anyone?









Doesn't everyone have a drawer like this now? Too many old power cords and adapters and where is that one I need for the charger....??






Now it gets a little more personal.
I probably have too many jackets.
These are not all mine, but they are also not all of mine.
We do have a VERY small coat closet.
Together we have enough that they spill over into other spots. My reasoning for having so many? We live in Michigan! You can always use a jacket!

Sandals! What can I say? I have shoes issues--as in difficulty finding a good fit--and sandals are just more accommodating. According to FashionBlast.net, a recent study revealed that women over the age of 40 own an average of 19 pairs of shoes. I guess I'm above average there, although it also says that women over 40 own an average of 11 handbags--a figure I come no where near! Add to that the fact that I do a lot of clearance, sale, and Salvation Army shopping and I don't feel too bad about this "too much". It does sort of run counter to the whole "we live in Michigan" jacket justification though.


I have too many earrings. I've even added a third hole just to give me somewhere else to stick them. 99% of them are costume jewelry and not worth much at all. They do have sentimental value though, because I often buy them on vacations and they remind me of the trip. I love funky, handcrafted, and unusual styles. I don't own many necklaces or rings by comparison.

The world's most expensive earrings ever made cost 8.5 million dollars.

But enough about my self-indulgence! I'm probably worse than some women, better than others in this department.

I have TOO MUCH RED TILE!!

This is my bathroom. It came with the lake house, which had way too many other things that needed repair. There was no time to spend on tile that was in great shape, but it's just hideous. I sent in pictures to one of those ugliest bathroom in America contests once, but got no response.

There is soooo much of it! We have to do something about it soon. It's beginning to wear on me. It hurts my eyes. It's orange in some areas. And the question that really haunts me is, "who does this to starts with?"













And that's how we are--happy with too much of some things, frustrated with too much of other things. Lack of contentment coloring it all. In this case in an all too bright shade of red.

What do you have too much of? Come on....'fess up!

*There's a pretty good book out on this subject if this is really something you struggle with called "It's All Too Much" by Peter Walsh.

Being a Grown Up means...

....means realizing you can't control other people. Even your kids. Even if they plan to get a tattoo. Or dreadlocks.

Ultimate Frisbee Players Unite!

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.
~George Carlin

Funny is Hereditary...you get it from your kids

"Trying to be a first-rate reporter on the average American newspaper is like trying to play Bach's 'St. Matthew's Passion' on a ukulele." (source unknown)

Sooo....sorry for the heaviness of the posts recently. I decided I need to lighten things up here. So I'm turning to my daughter to help out. She works at an area newspaper, and while she wrote tons of stories as a lowly barely-paid intern, now that she graduated and has a full time copywriter position she doesn't get to write stories very often. Instead she sends me funny emails with almost always intriguing subject lines. Unfortunately, I'd already deleted many of them, but I have a few to share, along with some of the actual content. Shhh…don't tell her...

To: mom
Subject: The weird, wild world of Sanilac County (or just another day at the copy desk...)

This hilarious, disgusting, classically podunk image is going to appear in the Sunday edition of The Jeffersonian, with this caption:
Fungus among us!
Autumn is the time for mushrooms and Bill Eckel found a doozy on his lawn at 6121 Lakeshore Rd., Lexington. It is a specimen of calvatea gigantea or – giant puffball. It had a circumference of 34 inches and weighed four pounds. Many puffballs are edible, but be careful, because some are toxic.
Thought ya'll might appreciate it.

Some are just blatant ploys for parental favors:

To: mom
Subject: Love the Madness
Just FYI, you can get a women's Moosejaw hoodie for half off (that's $25 instead of $50) if you enter coupon code 689 today. In case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas or Sweetest Day or Tuesday or something...

Cool connection to a website I recommended...

To: Mom
Subject: Exploding dog used my title!
I was referring to the Ben Folds concert, but his take on it is pretty funny...
http://www.explodingdog.com/title/ijustcantwait.html

My apologies for the swear word, but you gotta admit it's funny...

To: Mom
Subject: What we all with we could say when someone asked us to explain ourselves...

I just asked the founder of Moosejaw if he could explain a statement in the press release I received, which said something about Moosejaw being "well positioned" to take advantage of the growing popularity of outdoor activities like climbing, hiking, etc. His answer? "Shit, I don't know!" Refreshing honesty, although at 3:30 in the afternoon, with post-lunch drowsiness in full effect, I wasn't exactly sure how to respond.
Happy Tuesday :)

Poem of Grief

Grief
doesn’t fit neatly
in the little day box
on my calendar
marked out to say
that’s completed
now move on
to the next square

Mourning
doesn’t allow me
to schedule a time
begin feeling the pain
when the chime reminds me
to sorrow and sigh now
or miss the chance

Unexpectedly, sorrow flows
pools in my gut
while a song I try to sing
tunes to the ache
resonates with my hurt
vibrations echoed in tears
even while the waves fade

Remembrance
doesn’t tolerate
the wondrous sight
of a glorious autumn
blood red glowing orange tree
with it’s momentary beauty
for I see only the
crumpled piles underneath
decaying colors evaporating
and long for spring

sm

Words about Arts in the Church

Thoughts on Racism: My Experience

Over the weekend there was an article in the Oakland Press highlighting evidence of racism in metro Detroit. Focusing on the roads that racially separate Detroit from Gross Pointe (Alter Road) and the mostly black Detroit and it's mostly white suburbs (8 Mile Road), "they found people of both races living just blocks apart who nonetheless spoke of each other like strangers. There was suspicion, contempt-and yet, for many, a desperate hope that Obama's candidacy might be the final step in America's long path to racial equality."

Racial equality and understanding are great things to hope for--regardless of your political leanings. Reading the article, I remembered the one black man I knew growing up. His name was Odie Henry. He and his wife Mary, who was white, attended our little Cumberland Presbyterian church. He was, at least to my young eyes, treated without prejudice by the small congregation. To better understand just how unusual this was, you have to understand the area I grew up in.

To say I grew up in a town that was not diverse would be a great understatement. In a town of 1,500, according to the census number on the sign, there was not one person living there that was not white. (Odie lived several miles away-out in the country.) There was one Korean boy who attended my high school, but he also lived in another town. There was no one from India (although a few years after I moved away there a Pakistani doctorwho began a practice). No Chinese or Chaldean shop owners. No Arabic or Italian faces in the schools. A quick Google search shows that even today only .2% of the population is foreign born, which equals 2 people out of the current population of about 1,000. Racially, from my recent visits, it is still an all white town.

A retiree with some gray already speckling his dark closely clipped hair, Odie Henry built model trains as a hobby. He had helped work on the model railroad display in the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. His basement held not only trains and working displays, but the equipment needed to make the wheels and other parts himself. As an inquisitive young girl I found it somewhat interesting, and I think if I had expressed a desire to learn he would have been willing to teach me some of his skills. As far as I can remember, he had only grown step children, and he was not able to pass on his legacy before he died. He was a kind and gentle soul who spoke softly and was respected in our church, even while there were surely great prejudices held privately and quietly by some of the congregants there. Any prejudices of my parents or grandparents were largely unexpressed in my presence (at least not until I was old enough to judge it as ignorance) and I grew up with mostly no negative impressions of those of other races.

The Oakland Press article says that when questioned, Detroit area blacks and whites each put blame for the prejudices that still exist on the "they" and "them", pointing to others in their neighborhoods as barriers to understanding and equality, even as they make racial comments. Sadly, many will grow up never really knowing or being friends with someone of another race. "Here, it's unfamiliarity that can breed contempt--or at least misunderstanding," says the article. Not knowing someone as a person--and accepting the caricatures formed by assumption and prejudices passed down from others--the dividing line will continue to exist.

As I entered adulthood, my only lasting impression of blacks was in the form of a person I knew--Odie Henry--who was a kind, dignified Christian man who built model trains. "Black" had a name and a face for me to recall and it colored all my future encounters with those of other races with grace. If the one black man I had known growing up had been violent or even just abrasive, I may have developed a different lens through which I would have viewed other races. I'd like to think I would not have settled for an image based on one person, but I'm sure I would have been more suspicious and less open to friendships with blacks.

The town I live in now is 90% white, but I know we have neighbors across the street who are black. No polititian alone can bring the change that will be the final step on that long path to racial equality. I think the only way we can erase the imaginary dividing line that most definitely exists between blacks and whites is by reaching out with openness to those who are still strangers and getting to know them--one person, one friendship at a time.