Wholesome vacation planning with Google Maps

I've had our trip to CDMX planned for some time, but I do check back in with our notes and my personalized Google Map from time to time. 

Most recently, I had to go back in and find a new place to stay in the middle of our trip (we're staying in 3 different locations so we can see the most without wasting too much time traveling to sites we're interested in; also, we'll get to try different restaurants when we're anchored in different neighborhoods).

Last week, sitting at my desk (the dining table), I got a charge for over $800 on my Apple Card. I didn't recognize the name but went to look in my vacation emails because the name sounded vaguely Spanish. Still nothing matched, so I did a fraud notice with the card.

A few days later, I got this email: "Good afternoon, cordial greeting we currently receive a fraud alert with the payment for this accommodation. Our machine learning system provides a real-time transaction score at the time of payment, but in some cases, as is the case here, we obtain more information about the risk level of a payment, we will cancel this payment and we will send a new link where you can process the payment again in a more secure way." It was the middle place we're staying.

I thought about it, but before they sent me the email, I asked them to cancel the reservation. I had made the reservation on May 27. The trip isn't until next spring. Why would they try to charge me 3 months post-reservation and 7-months pre-stay? There was nothing about that when I booked the room. And why not reach out before you make that charge? I just didn't feel good about it.

I was a little worried because the places seemed to fall into three categories: 1) Too expensive for us, 2) Fine but lots of complaints about nighttime noise or thin walls, 3) Perfect but only allow double occupancy.

FINALLY, though, I found a place that will work for us! Yay!

So I was looking around, moving some site-seeing, when I came upon something that just filled my ice cold heart with warmth.

It is a 360 view of the park where el Fuente de los Coyotes is. I was looking around because I think it's near a pretty church I'd like to look at.

Google blurs faces a lot, but they couldn't blur these guys' good time.

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH.

We have three young guys, friends, just chilling and enjoying the park at dusk. They seem to be sharing a joke or are teasing each other. It makes me happy to see them being kids together. The capture is from 2019 and they're probably fully adults now. Wonder what they're up to. I hope they're still friends. Does middle guy still color the top of his hair? 

Anyway, I don't know why they really captured my maternal feels, but they did. 

There are tons of people on Street View, but I don't think I've ever seen such an emotional slice of life (never mind the naked guy climbing out of a window or whatever; it's hard to enjoy that drama). 

Thanks, young men, for being cool and hanging out. I'll sit on this bench in your honor next time the jacaranda trees are in bloom!

A New Hope (not Star-Wars-related)

I'd really forgotten a lot.

It was likely a self-preservation tactic my subconscious exercised on my behalf.

In preparing for an interview, I went back and for the first time read through the blog posts I made during 2010-2012. 

I have a few thoughts, and they're all over the place. So in no particular order:

1) Holy cow, I cringed so hard so many times. The things I said as a youngster (pre-40s, but barely)! Your girl has changed A LOT in 15 years, and that's, to borrow a probably-copyrighted phrase from Martha Stewart, a good thing. If you read my blog back then, and you rolled your eyes or gasped at anything I said ("Thanks, Feminism," I'm looking at you), WE ARE IN AGREEMENT. And I'm so sorry. It's bad. It was very, very bad and re-exposing myself to... myself (not in a dirty way, perverts) created quite a rip in the time-space continuum of who I know myself to be.

2) It's easy to believe the people can't or won't change. Good gravy, have I ever changed in the past decade. I like to think it's for the better. I do probably cuss more than I used to. But getting off of social media was a huge improvement. I feel like I am much more accepting and less judgmental than I was back in the day. I definitely don't obsess over my body or my hair or anything the way that I did 14-15 years ago. I'm pretty sure I am NOT maturing, though, so don't worry about that.

3) It was a complete surprise to me to learn that I kept two concurrent blogs during 2011-2012??! I had "Trailer Trash and Proud" for fun stuff like reviews, things we did, stuff I baked, etc. and I kept my older one for all of my angst and preaching and Deep Thoughts™. That one is very barfy and I only read it to make sure that I was remembering timelines and events correctly. But it was a painful read. Bleh. The stuff about my cool pancakes and all of the chocolate I bought in Dallas was a lot more on-brand and enjoyable.

4) After all of the stuff happened in the early 2010s, it was like I was running out of a burning building and didn't have the energy or desire to look back. Now that I have, I feel a lot less... well, just a lot less about it. The feelings aren't a big deal. I'm over it. Things didn't go the way they would have if they'd happened the way I wanted, and apart from my self-esteem taking a huge hit (but refusing to stay down, which actually would have made it easier), it was all really fine. Better in the long run, in fact. Much better.

5) Things I should have done differently: a) Immediately left my church. b) Moved to Austin a year before I did. c) Been more proactive in helping D deal with the huge changes I, too, was finding difficult. It SUCKS as a parent to be barely treading water and therefore not fully notice that your kid is struggling probably worse than you are. A lot of the issues D has had are because I was not thinking properly and didn't notice or realize things I should have noticed and realized. We both have a lot more perspective on this as adults, but it doesn't change that I messed up. I missed a lot. And I can't redo any of it.

6) That said, reading about where I was back then really makes me more hopeful in this part of my life! I was worried about the same things: finding a job, having enough money to make it, where would I end up if I couldn't afford where I was living anymore? Etc. At the time, I had a friend who compared it to swinging on a trapeze and how, for the trapeze to work, sometimes you have to let go and fly and trust that the other trapeze will be there to meet you when you get there. Right now, I have a whole other adult in this with me, and we have more resources than I did at the time. So it helped kind of jolt me out of some doldrums and I appreciate that a lot!

In 12 years, none of us has aged, including the kid. Which is weird. ;)

A Random Encounter a Decade Later

You didn't even recognize me. I mean, it's been exactly ten years, but we were kind of involved.

You once sat across a table from me and asked me, "What if God is just about to do a miracle, and you give up now?" You invested a lot of your time and effort in keeping me from leaving an unhealthy marriage because it was what god wanted me to do, and it was your job to hold me to this personal holiness. The church that you lead called men with whom they saw me talking and asked if I were involved in a sexual relationship with them. You pulled me off of my ministry of writing and film production "not as a punishment, but so you can focus on your marriage." As if that wasn't all I had done for the better part of the previous decade.

And then you just went on with your life and I slipped from your memory altogether. How nice for you.

Believe me, I know that you had good intentions. I worked with you for more than six years, and I saw your heart for people, and for unity. I know how much you worked, and how you put your whole heart into everything. I admired how you reached across denominations and cultures and wanted to gather everyone together. You even stood up for me the first time you met with my ex-husband and me. After I'd told my side of the story, you asked, "What is wrong with you, man? Don't you have any balls?"

But then you expected me to stay the course, as this was the first you'd heard of it, completely disregarding the fact that both I and a whole other church had been trying to fix things for years. I had changed so much, and given up so much of my truest self, trying to placate a person who demanded more than it was possible for me to give. It was never enough. I was always too much or too loud or too involved with my larger family or too fat or too out of control.

"I just wish you guys had come to [the church] earlier. Now we're at this precipice, and we could have helped."

I'm not sure what else I could have done. Literally everyone else knew. My ministry team, especially your staff member with whom I worked the closest, knew about the strain in my marriage. My writing partner once commiserated with me saying, "When they know you won't leave, it's like permission for them to treat you like shit." She's a better person than I am, I suppose, because... I left. I did not deserve to be treated like shit.

Exactly one year before, I had written an Easter segment for "The Bridge" about a marriage that was falling apart. My ex-husband, who was on the camera team that week, told his ministry team that the script was taken directly from our marriage.

I hadn't meant for it to be a cry for help, but maybe it was? Or maybe it was wish fulfillment? At the end of the service, it became clear that the husband had drastically changed tack and the couple ended up having a long, loving marriage. One of the choir members cried as he prayed before service, saying, "Let people hear this and be encouraged; there are a lot of people whose marriages are on life support, and they need to know that there's hope."

I mean, four months or so after that, there was a HUGE incident that several people witnessed, and it bothered one of them enough to reach out to church leadership. You met with us then, and... what? Like just assumed that because we went quiet again that this incident wasn't important? 

There was one other time, toward the end, that I saw a spark of compassion from you. After many meeting with elders, you were in one and perked up when I mentioned a mental disorder. I know what you've been through with your daughter. I know you understand that there are things you can't love someone enough to fix. You said, "You've never mentioned that before." And then you were never in later meetings. I assumed it was because you were at risk of being "too empathetic," which was a charge lain on one more friend who asked to sit in an elder's meeting with me as an advocate, and who broke down crying as a bunch of men came down on me and made me sign an agreement not to share any of what I was going through on social media.

Sir, there were people from your church who followed me on social media and read my blog just to make sure that I didn't speak a word of anything. When other church members called you because they knew me and saw what was happening, I was accused of being "divisive." 

I was in an emotionally abusive relationship, and you all cared more about saving my marriage than saving me. I was pushed out of the church home I'd had for six years, after working so closely with everyone who was making that decision.

Maybe you guys thought that I was being a jerk. I probably was. Another former preacher, Kevin Odor, used to say, "Hurt people hurt people." I'm sorry about my part in those things. Maybe, as one friend expressed concern, you were trying to make an example of me, to let everyone else know that marriage was so important, you couldn't tolerate its dissolution. I know you genuinely believe that you were trying to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Writing about these times brings everything back to the fore for me. And you clearly could not place me, even when I pulled my mask down, and said I'd been in Sherman when you were there.

You said, "Oh, things have changed since then..." then you told me about the church you'd pastored after the one I attended, and how now you're here, in my back yard, on staff with your son's congregation. I introduced you to my husband, and my child. I said, "He looks a lot like D at this age." Of course, you didn't know D as "D." And you probably wouldn't remember them, either.

"My wife's around here somewhere," you told me. I said I'd keep an eye out for her. And I did. When I saw her, I made sure my mask was up, and I averted my eyes. I could be polite and chatty with you, but not her. She said two of the worst things anyone said to me during my divorce, and I don't believe that the second one is forgivable, frankly.

The first thing: "Well, he's not hitting you, and he's not cheating, so you're kind of stuck." No, I was not. The law doesn't care why I wanted out; I was free to go. And if there is a god who expects women to tolerate every single thing that is not hitting or cheating, then that is not a god I am interested in following. I didn't have the guts to say it then, but I do now. I do not believe that. I absolutely do not.

The second, worst thing she said, though, after telling some anecdotes, was, "And, you know, most people are pretty miserable, anyway, so..."

What kind of "Christian" advice is this? Your marriage sucks? Well, guess what? NO ONE IS HAPPY so just give up dreaming! I mean, is Jesus supposed to make up for this? "Sure, your life sucks but one day, you'll die and be in heaven as long as you stay in these parameters!"

I'm not talking to her.

Anyway, my mood tanked for much of the event, because it was quite a surprise to see someone I thought was way back in the rear-view mirror. But, I have to tell you, as hard a time as I had, and as much as I struggled with the loss of my church family and friends, I probably should have thanked you.

"Oh, do you go to church here?" you asked about the congregation that hosted the event. I told you no, that I go to church in Leander.

What I didn't tell you was that I would never go to that church, and that was before I knew your son pastored it or that you worked there.

The reason is largely because of what I learned in my experience with your old church. My old church.

As I mentioned, I have no doubt that you and most of the men involved in pushing back on my divorce meant well. As you saw it, God demanded that divorce not happen, and therefore divorce is sin, and it was your responsibility to prevent my sinning if it were within your power.

The same thing happened, though less dramatically, with the church I attended here, when I was engaged to James, an "unbeliever," and the leadership stepped in to discourage me from marrying him. When I said I was going to go on with it, the preacher told me, "If you can't submit yourself to leadership in this way, then I don't really know what we have for you." I told him that wasn't the first time I'd been asked to leave a church, and that it's very demoralizing. We're still on okay terms. But what the hell, man?

Writing this, I think one might, perhaps rightfully, be tempted to say, "They were all right, and you're just a rebellious freak." I mean, maybe I am.

But I happen to believe that rebellious freaks also deserve to feel loved and accepted by their creator (if there is one, and in the context of the church, there is).

I have absolute confidence that the "church discipline" I received was done in genuine love.

And IT SUCKED. It felt awful. It felt invalidating, and humiliating, and made me feel like a problem child. Even knowing I was loved.

If this hadn't happened to me, I might not have thought about that in the context of the LGBTQ+ community. I'm embarrassed to admit that, but it's true. I've gone to church with gay people who were welcomed to the congregation but not allowed to serve in positions of leadership. I've also gone to churches where a gay member would have to keep the gay part on the down-low.

Because of my personal experience, I know that being loved and also seen as a problem doesn't feel like love. It's very "othering." It's condescending. It denies a part of who you are as being unseemly or sinful.

I never want anyone who steps into a church to feel that rejection, and because of that, I'll never attend a church that isn't open and affirming. I might not have come to this decision if it weren't for the way you cornered me and tried to shove me into a mould that I could not inhabit anymore.

So, really, thanks. Thanks for making me a more compassionate person.

If I happen to see you at the store or local events in the future, I'll keep my distance. And I won't let it ruin my day. 

I'd love it if you and your wife could know that you were wrong, though. Sure, there are days in my life that are stressful or monotonous. However, I'm happy. It's attainable, and I hope you guys aren't settling for "pretty miserable." But if you are, it's not my problem. And I'm not yours.

Unambitious

Every once in a while, I jump onto LinkedIn to see if a person I no longer have access to through other social media has an account there so that I can check in with them. Today, I happened to notice that an old friend of mine had founded a new business, called Beyond Motherhood. Amy's a very neat person, and it's super cool that she's helping women figure out what they want to do with their lives. But a lot of things I have realized about myself recently have helped me know that this site isn't for me. 

For one, there's this quote: "Motherhood is holy work, but the hands-on, active phase only lasts 20-25 years for most women. If you still have half your life left when the kids leave home, doesn’t that make you think you have a purpose beyond motherhood?" When Mal is 25, I will be 67. I will not have half of my life left, unless medicine progresses ridiculously rapidly over the next couple of decades. (I know this is one reason she said "most" and not "all." Then there's the moms of special needs kids. And the ones who become grandmas raising grandkids. Etc.)

Beyond that, though... I have this pattern of basically not caring about jobs. I mean, I'm an over-achiever and if I have a job, I'll do what I need to do, and I will try to do it very well. I will probably even do more than is strictly necessary. But I've never had ambitions, or fantasies about a dream career.

Well, I wanted to be an astronaut until I realized that you had to have uncorrected 20/20 vision (at the time; this has changed) and it broke my heart. Then I wanted to be an actor until I was in college and saw what some people had to do to get jobs. Then I realized, "Oh, I don't want it *that* bad." And I'm not talking about anything super shady, just the networking and knowing who to know and interrupting someone's dinner plans to insist on an audition.

My first job, at age 16, was at a Kentucky Fried Chicken, or KFC for you young 'uns. I was very bad at being able to tell the chicken breasts from the chicken thighs, and I got so stressed working the drive-through. I could not focus on a conversation with the person in front of me while also taking an order over the headphones. And I could NOT upsell. "Would you like a hot buttered corn-on-the-cob with that?" If they wanted it, I'm sure they would have ordered it. Fortunately, I got strep and my doctor told my mom it was probably from the filthy environment there, so I got to quit after six weeks.

Next, I worked at a grocery store. I did bagging at first, then went to (I kid you not) checker's school. I learned the codes for 200 different produce items, how to count up change in case something went wrong with the register's calculations, and also that I had to call someone to help me when someone bought alcohol, because I was too young to sell it. I worked with a good friend, and that was fun. 

Then I got what I felt was an upgrade and worked at TCBY for the remainder of my high school years. I adored that job. People who are going out for frozen yogurt are rarely in a bad mood. And we got to eat as much yogurt as we wanted, for free.

When I was in college, I worked at a baby and pregnancy clothing boutique, then a day care, and finally at Sonic. I LOVED working at Sonic. I was a carhop, so I got to be outside. I learned that if you're really nice and they're having a good day, sometimes people will tip you a generous amount. Man, what a wake-up call that was, and I apologize to every carhop I had as a teen because I genuinely had no idea.

After I graduated college (with a BA in theater, so that was a lucrative choice), people seemed shocked that I didn't immediately quit Sonic. I got tired of being asked, "When are you going to get a 'real' job?" so I applied for a starter position with the local newspaper, which was owned by the media group for which my dad worked as their HR director. In my interview, my boss told me, "I'm going to be honest with you: you're getting this job because of your maiden name."

So I was working in an office... but because of the Sonic tips, I was making LESS money. I felt like I'd been duped by the idea that somehow office work was more mature or honorable than running food.

The next job I had was because we moved, and I quit the newspaper. I signed up as a substitute teacher in the then-small town of Siloam Springs. It was irregular and stressful, and after one day subbing at a junior high, I called the office and told them I'd do elementary or high school but NEVER jr. high ever again.

Then we moved to Las Vegas, and I got a job working at Sam's Club. I was at the registers first, then worked freezer/cooler for couple of years. When the company decided that I was too much trouble and wanted me out (I had a problematic coworker and kept reporting him for creating a hostile work environment with his incessant sex talk), they moved me to electronics with no training, and let me flounder answering questions about computers about which I had no specialized experience. Then they wrote me up when I wasn't "the same employee" I'd been when I was helping customers locate the frozen chicken I'd just stocked an hour beforehand.

The job I got after this was the one I had the longest: I started in a temp-to-hire position as a receptionist for Terra West Property Management. I got fully hired, served as the receptionist for a few years, took a blip of time off to work as an "expediter" for one of our tech vendors (I had to call the lead tech up every morning and make sure he was awake and out of bed to be on time for his appointments). Then I returned to Terra West as a property manager. I got my real estate license, and enjoyed the work enough... but I didn't take it nearly seriously enough for one of our biggest clients. He insisted at one point that the company fire me, which they did not. But they did bury me far away from him in a completely different department. I worked as the main internal tech person at the company for almost a year, before I had D and quit work entirely.

Kind of.

The idea was that I would stay home and D's dad would find a job to make up for our shortfall, as I was the primary bread-winner at the time. That didn't really pan out, so we got a job together working as house parents for Girls and Boys Town of Nevada. Staring a job like that with a 2-month-old was stupid. We lasted half a year.

I was mostly home for 9 years. When we moved to Texas, I signed up to do some mystery shopping. Over time, I signed with more companies and typically had at least 6 jobs a week. I loved it because D could come with me, and I could accept jobs as I willed. I often didn't do the jobs that didn't seem worth it, and I relished the jobs that included things like spending a night at Great Wolf Lodge; or having dinner at Rainforest Cafe, then doing their internal Build-a-Bear. We got to go to Ripley's Believe It or Not! and Mme. Toussaud's Wax Museum. I did a battery of mystery shops at Six Flags once. I'd pack a bunch of fast food jobs in a big old circle around north Texas, and D and I would get food and listen to the Harry Potter audiobooks.

And then something kind of unbelievable happened. I'd been writing skits and things for church for years, and from that ended up with the opportunity to write for commercials and even a television trailer for a reality show called "The Shot" that was to feature former athletes who'd almost made it, and were competing for a second chance. 

But something interesting happened during that time: 1) I didn't really enjoy the writing when I was getting paid. It wasn't as fun as, say, writing this blog. 2) When the paid gigs came, that was cool... but when they didn't I wasn't upset. I'd written some for "Travel Weekly" when I lived in Las Vegas. That was very lucrative. It was infrequent, and I just never thought, "This writing thing is great. I could totally freelance for a living."

When I got divorced, I needed to work. I didn't want D to have to go to school amidst all of the other upheaval, so first I just had friends hire me to do cleaning and organizing. That was going pretty well, and then I got the call from the insurance agency offering me a job as... a receptionist (again!), and with an empty adjoining office for my kiddo. It was perfect.

After I'd been there a while, my boss started encouraging me to get my insurance license. I couldn't legally sign people up for policies unless I had my license, even though I was doing most of the practical work up to actually starting the policy for auto insurance at the time. Eventually, I dragged my feet enough that he gave me a deadline. I studied, and I passed the test on my first try. Minimum score to pass: 70. My score: 70.

They were kind enough to retain me when I moved to Austin, which, as you might imagine, put a dent in my "reception" abilities. I did customer service, virtual filing, and some newsletter and website stuff remotely. My boss again encouraged me to try to sell here in Austin, and he'd move me to commission, and I had the potential to make a lot more money. But I was satisfied with my reliable pay and familiar work.

Once again, I just didn't have higher aspirations. I was content.

I quit that job shortly before I had Mal, and have been full-time mumming ever since.

Then over the past few months, a friend of mine who is a copyeditor has been dropping hints about throwing some work my way. Finally, she told me that she had a book she thought I could help a guy with. I thought about it and talked it over with James, and realized that I had some editing baggage left over from another situation. But when I talked about this with my friend, she took it upon herself to decide that she'd pressured me too much (she hadn't) and that she wasn't going to mention it again.

I was *so* relieved. I wanted to want to do it. I thought the extra money might be nice. I wasn't confident I could commit any more than about 2 hours per day to it, and even then I wasn't sure where I was going to find those 2 hours. 

But I am just pretty satisfied with the pace of my life, and my responsibilities, and don't have any kind of drive to add anything new.

I have another friend who was very frustrated about having been put on light duty with a fire department where she worked after she'd had a baby. She could have stayed home on leave, but she wanted to get back into the action. She told me, "I am not the kind of person who can be satisfied with having gotten a load of dishes done during the day. I need something more." She ended up moving to another fire department so she could do actual fire stuff instead of just dispatch. And I'm glad she's getting the workouts and professional socializing that are so important to her.

I don't have that. I don't have the drive, or the need, or whatever it is that makes people antsy about being home.

When (if) my kids are up and out, I'm not particularly worried about what I'll do. I won't feel "aimless." I can think of MONTHS worth of stuff I could do if my time were strictly my own. I don't feel overwhelmed by the possibilities, or the unknown, and I am not worried that I need to be "more" than I am. I'd say that maybe I'm just lazy, except I'm not. I work hard every day. I guess I'm just not entrepreneurial or ambitious. I don't care what job I have, much, as long as it's not soul-sucking. If we need money, I'll go out and do something where I can work for a day, and come home and do whatever I want. If not, I can volunteer, and to out and take pictures, and maybe live in an RV again. 

I don't think that all people are called to be parents. I am glad that some people have work that they absolutely love so much that it's a big part of who they are. I definitely want my services and food and healthcare and everything else delivered by people who can't imagine what they'd do without their jobs. I appreciate that in the folks who have it. I'm just not one of them.

Speaking of taking photographs, I wanted to share this one because I love it so much. These are a trio of young ladies at a homeschool hangout. I love how "Texan" it looks. And I love how it shows that you can do mostly nothing and have a great time doing it. 

Self-Care in the Age of Social Media (and other assorted chaos)

Over the past few years, I've divested from most social media. I quit Facebook two and a half years ago; after I got past the habit of thinking in status updates, I didn't miss it at all. I bumped up my Instagram usage at that time, but after a year, quit that, too. It had gone from pretty happy inspiration to more pointed politicking and bickering. I was on Twitter for a spell, following fat activists and other public figures I'd grown to admire but then, of course, it ends up being distilled into mostly hot takes and trolls so I stopped that. Finally, I was starting to get more involved in the Austin subreddit. It's a pretty calm place, and even arguments are largely respectful and calm. However, "the algorithm" decided that I like news, and so the feed was largely heart-breaking headlines from around the world. Last night, there were two in a row that made me say, "Nope. This is out, too." So I deleted it.

In the months since the pandemic began, I've actually had the time and mental wherewithal to read only a few books. But they've helped me focus in on what's important to me and what it is to which I want to be exposed.

Two nights ago was the first "Presidential" "debate." I didn't watch it, because Joe Biden and Donald Trump have been in the public arena for almost as long as I've been alive. They're known quantities. There are no surprises to be revealed. Why even bother? 

Apparently, I made the right decision, as 69% of watchers who were polled reported feeling "annoyed" by the process.

I'm choosing to head off annoyance at the pass.

I'm doing this by reading books that have a strong point of view but are not written in a purposefully inflammatory way. I just finished "The Liturgy of Politics: Spiritual Formation for the Sake of Our Neighbor," and am about 2/3 of the way through "Stamped from the Beginning." I highly recommend both. "The Liturgy of Politics" is definitely from a Christian perspective, and is convicting but a pretty easy read. "Stamped from the Beginning" is taking me longer because there is so much historical information that every once in a while, my brain needs to rest so I can digest some more. But it's impressively dispassionate; the author writes with a much cooler tone than I feel when I read about the injustices that we have wrought on our fellow countrymen throughout the US's past.

I'm selecting news sources that have a humorous bent because at least then I know they're going to editorialize and help me release some of the pressure from pretty heavy stories. Most "news" outlets editorialize wildly, but it's angry, and they're trying to engender anger (from every side) because it helps ratings. Not interested.

I'm listening to podcasts that report news from a different perspective than mine. I enjoy things like Code Switch and Latino USA because I have always had my news delivered to me, a white middle-class person, from a very uniform source. Black Twitter and The Root are extremely eye-opening, and I appreciate the education. 

I have not watched "The Social Dilemma" but they were discussing it on "The Holy Post" the other day (another podcast I enjoy, even though I'm a little more liberal than most of them, and a lot more liberal than some of them) and Phil Vischer mentioned how the documentary pointed out that when someone sees a news item that leans the same way they lean, it further reinforces their point of view. So "the algorithm" decides that you must really like stuff that is super conservative, and it feeds you that, whether it's from your friends' feeds or from the news feed itself. Then advertisers seek out people with that POV and feed them even more outlandish things, and it basically creates this echo chamber that "radicalizes" pretty much everyone. If you're left, you're going to be pushed WAY left; if you're right, you're going to be SUPER right-wing. I do not want to let outside sources determine what news I hear or how I feel about any of it. I'm trying to make deliberate choices both for my own mental health and for the sake of my being a better, more well-rounded "neighbor."

I won't want to talk about politics right now. I know that it's hard for me to articulate how I feel without getting emotionally invested and likely angry. I need to work on myself more before I can have a calm conversation about why I believe what I believe and how I can't understand why you can believe or disbelieve certain things. Basically, I need to deprogram myself.

I tried this experiment on Reddit: I was only kind. If I said something and someone responded with a "Are you saying this?! Then you're an idiot!" (that's editing; people attack a lot more creatively) I would respond with a sincere apology. I didn't let myself get riled up. It was actually very freeing. I need to learn to do this in person. With people I like and even love. It's harder, though, I think. Like if I believe that every human deserves equal rights and that it might take more work to get us to that point, and a stranger disagrees... okay, whatever dude. Just get out of my way. But if it's someone I'm trying to respect and have a relationship with, it's a lot harder not to descend into, "What kind of a monster are you?! What does it hurt YOU if this person gets to do this thing, or that person gets an extra one of those???!"

So please excuse me if I just walk away when items of a divisive nature come up. I won't disengage forever, but I have to for now. I have to figure out how to be the person I want to be even when faced with things I cannot believe exist. 

Also...

I'm a naturally optimistic and happy person. I like that about me. I have ended multiple friendships with people who were sad sacks and vehement constant victims because although their perpetual anger and hurt was tiring, when they expected me to get on board with their "The world is against me and everything sucks," I could not support them in that way. I don't believe that. I don't want to believe that. I want to be able to hone in on injustices without imagining them where they are not. Sometimes, when your tire goes flat on your way to a job interview, it just sucks. It's not god or the universe punishing you because everything is a bitch and it always will be. 

And it's hard to be happy when everyone seems to want you to be super incensed about everything "the other side" is doing. The enemy is real; turning everyone and everything into "the enemy" makes it impossible to fight the real battles. 

Anyway, all of that to say that I'm tired of being tired in my brain, so I'm disengaging from things that both stress me out and do not profit me to think about or discuss. Also, here is a picture of some ducks from the lake.

Our 6th Anniversary

Our 6th anniversary is in about a week and a half, and I only thought of it (like since our last anniversary) last night. We don't have plans; I don't remember what we did last year. I'm afraid we might be the worst at creating big celebratory traditions that our son will remember forever.

It's interesting, because I see this happen in so many facets of our lives: The way we live, "big" things can be challenging. What do we get the kids for Christmas when we pretty much get them everything they need and most of the things they want when they ask? How do we differentiate this birthday cake from the cake I made two weeks ago? How do we mark a day to celebrate our marital union when we live every day with so much love and partnership and sometimes even cool meals out?

(On a personal level, the borderline obsession I used to have with menus and novelty food is much diminished now that I feel free to eat whatever I want whenever I feel like it.)

Six years. Sometimes it seems fast, and other times it feels like we've been together (and raising a second child) FOREVER.

It's longer than my first marriage... of which I remember very little. When you don't have someone with you to share your memories, they disappear. So much of my 20s is a blur. It's weird.

It's about half as long as my second marriage. We did hit 13 years, but it was already over by then.

Much like Ross Gellar, I never wanted to be "that person." You know, the one who was divorced twice. And every time I hear people (I admire very much, usually) bemoaning how some Christians can support Trump (I'm not a fan) when, among other things, he's "twice-divorced" or on his third spouse, I'm like... welp, that's me, too. Guess I'm just a big old slimy scumbag.

That was sarcasm, actually. I know my life; I know what I've done and why I did it. It wasn't always pure and blameless.

However, while there are individual things I would be tempted to tweak if given a do-over, where I've ended up is pretty spectacular. In a quiet, comfortable way.

I'm sitting at my dining room table while Mal watched a video and D sleeps. There are two pigeons out on the flight deck of the loft, and about 4 birds (a cardinal couple, a Carolina chickadee, and a house finch) at the bird feeder in the back yard. I can see it all from here (except D). Dinner is in the oven and there's a dog barking outside. I'm vacation planning as I blog, and I'm ready for James to come home.

It's pretty great.

Granted, marriage can be challenging at times. James and I feel like ships passing in the evening/morning in ways that never happened when D was little; Mal just requires more of everything, so it can be a trick even to have a conversation, much less alone time. But there is no drama. There is no waiting for the other shoe to drop. To put it in Harry Potter terms: My scar hasn't hurt in more than six years; all is well.

Happy anniversary, baby! Here's to another year or two, minimum.

A thing I wrote last week...

I'm sorry that I was
Too much for you to handle.
But you wanted a bonsai;
Something you could prune,
Meticulously trimming back
Until a shape pleasing to you
Would emerge.
Instead, I am a wildflower
Spoiled by handling
But thriving in the sun and fresh air;
Blooming loud and shameless
On a hillside for all to see.

Sometimes

Sometimes, you're just tired.

Not sleepy.

Exhausted.

Spent. 

Certain that if something doesn't give, you're going to crawl out of your skin.

And then something happens.

A memory.

A realization.

A quick "hello" in passing.

And the feeling of gratitude washes over you, soft and endless, and nothing else matters.

And you wouldn't trade that for a month of naps.

Because it's the important thing.

And you have it.

You have it all.

Half a Decade Down...

Five years ago, I had a secret. James and I were planning to get married, and we were doing it quietly for a few reasons. One of the biggest is that we're just nerdy enough to think announcing our nuptials on April 1 would be extremely humorous. Another is that we were not making an event out of it. I wasn't 100% confident that a specific individual from my past wouldn't try to show up and mess with things. There were several people in our lives who had definite opinions about our getting married (these were voiced out of love, I know, but were still negative). Plus, this is my third marriage. I figure most people are rightfully like, "Oh, again? Well, good for you, I guess."

Suffice it to say, I have made some pretty substantial mistakes in the past. But the idea I had as a 16-year-old, that James would probably dig me a lot if he just gave me the chance, and that we'd make a good pair, was not mistaken. It just took a while to pan out.

It's cliche to say "I love him more now than I did then," and I'm not sure that's an accurate statement. I was deep in the throes of limerence and quite smitten with James before we got married. But now, all of that is settled. I don't freak out any more. We were coming from such divergent places, there were times for each of us early on when we had our, "Ugh; this is hard. Is it worth it to go on?" moments. Before we got married, I mean. But even afterward, getting used to living with someone and building a family... you learn a lot, and not all of it is fun.

But we've worked and compromised and have been at a place of equilibrium for years now. I've never had that in any relationship before in my life. It's incredibly comforting, and secure, and very exciting.

Photo credit Alec Hilliard Photography

We laughed a lot that day. We've laughed a lot since. We've cried some, too. But mostly, it's been a great time. We've moved 4.5 times. We've blended a family. We've had a beautiful, eye-opening, life-affirming visit to a foreign country together in the midst of a miscarriage. We've had a child in our 40s. We've purchased a home together (his first!). We've gone through lay-offs and job searches and new opportunities. Sleepless nights, days of exhaustion, moments of joy so acute it's almost painful. Tedium. Health issues. Sharing ideas. Growing closer. Navigating speed bumps. Learning each other's strengths. Filling in where the other is weaker. Being comfortable. Being home.

And it's only been five years.

Here's hoping James takes better care of himself over the next 40 years than he did the first; I am looking forward to our 50th anniversary!

Things People Say #1: "She's Really Let Herself Go"

There are a lot of things that people say that make no sense to me. Either they're vapid to the point of being meaningless or they're rude and unhelpful, or they seem duplicitous, or some other thing that just sticks in my craw. I'm going to do several posts about these, and this is the first. If you have any thoughts, or any phrases that similarly bother you, please leave a comment and let me know.

The first one I want to take a look at is "letting yourself go." In the title, I used the feminine pronoun because, honestly, this is the one I hear levied the most. It typically refers to a female who perhaps used to be more conventionally "attractive" than she is now, whether it's because of hair color and style or weight or clothings choices. And when this woman is seen after a few years, whether it's an actor who's been quietly living for decades or an old church friend someone sees at the grocery store, some people will either say out loud (or in website comments) or think to themselves, "Man! She's really let herself go!"

Besides my basic belief that no one should feel comfortable judging the appearance of another person negatively at any rate, this line of thought bothers me because it makes a false assumption: That the lady in question used to care enough about herself to "take care" of herself, and now, through whatever life changes that have happened, she has apparently become lackadaisical about it and has just gotten uglier and let everyone down.

That is utter bullcrap, friends.

If you've followed me for long, or if you've known me for many years, you probably realize that my weight has fluctuated a lot during my life, mostly resting on the "higher than I'd prefer" end of the scale, but with three very dramatic weight loss events during my 20s and early 30s. If you met me when I was 26 and then didn't see me again until now, you might be tempted to think, "Geez. After she had kids, she really let herself go!"

But you'd totally miss the point.

I let go of stuff, but not of my self-care, self-esteem, or respect for my husband and family.

See, to maintain a weight that is below the level deemed by the medical community to be "overweight," food and exercise has to be the main focus of my life. I have to plan what to eat, buy those things, eat different food than my family does, track every single thing I put in my mouth, refuse random bites of food my toddler wants to share with me, spend lots of time fantasizing about the next time I "can" eat, puzzle how to consume the most amount of food with the fewest total calories, etc. I also have to take at least 90 minutes every other day to do strenuous exercise outside of the normal rhythm of my life.

For 20+ years, I worked out every other day, save about 3 months when I lived in a travel trailer in my mid-20s. I either did a combination of the Jane Fonda 1980s and Dolph Lungren 1990s workouts, or I went to the gym. Save Zumba, I never enjoyed a minute of it. I thought it was cool when I could run 5 miles (at 195 pounds, by the way), but I HATED running. I was proud of how many sit-ups I could do with no one holding my legs, but I never enjoyed the actual sit-up part. I dreaded working out, even when I did it at home while watching television.

I did both of these regimens because society, and in a couple of cases, people near and dear to me, told me that being big is gross, unlovable, and shameful. My natural base weight wasn't good enough. It had to be lower. And I took the message so seriously that no matter what I weighed, I never felt great about it. I never looked at the scale and went, "That's it, then. I made it!"

But even if I had, there's this myth in weight loss. It's called "maintenance." It's the idea that you have to work really hard to lose weight, but once you get it off, you transition to an easier phase where you just have to maintain that weight.

Actually, maintaining your lower weight is much more difficult than losing it. You can eat fewer calories, and you have to work out harder, especially if your work-out uses your own weight, ironically making the work-out easier once you don't weigh as much.

It requires a huge amount of energy: physical, emotional, and mental.

And for this chick, it just stopped being worth it.

I want to play with my kid instead of insisting on an early bedtime so I can get my work-out done. I want to eat when we go out for ice cream. I don't want to have to pull out my phone every time I eat a grape lest I forget to log it.

We eat mostly vegetarian meals, whole grains, and the like; and I get quite a bit of naturally-occurring exercise keeping up with my preschooler. It's not sustained target heart rate for fat-burning, but my body does what I want it to do and is quite reliable

If someone sees me and thinks less of me because I am not sad enough about not having worn a size 12 in 5 years, then they have it backwards. My life is fuller and happier and better now. I let go, yes, but not of my self-care or self-view. I let go of some vanity, and of requiring an approving eye to make me feel worthy of love. I let go of spending time doing something I found drudgery because I decided you don't make someone you love do stuff that sucks the life out of them.

I'll admit: a big part of this freedom to me has been living with someone who loves me unconditionally. Not being afraid that I'm going to lose the affection of the person most important to me in the world goes a long way toward giving me permission to be myself and feel comfortable about it.

So maybe your reacting negatively to your high school sweetheart's letting her hair go grey or stopping wearing heels says more about you and your need for an attitude adjustment than with her mental or physical well-being.

Maybe "letting go" isn't about not caring, but about caring for more important things. Maybe it's maturity and priorities and contentment. Maybe, instead of judgement, congratulations are in order.

It's a Magical World (or There's Treasure Everywhere, whichever title you prefer I steal)

I have smiled and laughed a lot this week. Amazing things have happened. Not win-a-new-car-and-a-trip-to-Hawaii-level stuff, but just things that remind me the there are sparkly moments to be had even in the tedium of otherwise unremarkable life.

So, in no particular order:

1) Our new dog jumped up onto my car.

2) A 9-ish-year-old girl walking into the grocery store with her dad. She was wearing a bubblegum pink poodle skirt, a bright primary-colored tie-dye shirt, and a straw cowboy hat. She felt beautiful, and she was.

3) Mal and I were in the back yard, and I heard what I thought was a breeze kicking up, but didn't feel it and didn't see any trees blowing. Mal pointed into the sky above my head and said, "Birdies!" I looked up and probably 75 small birds were flying over, low enough and populous enough that we could hear the "whoosh" of their collective wings cutting through the air.

4) There is a fishing tournament at the lake this weekend, and this morning, I got to see (and hear) the boats heading out.

5) Mal is getting super demonstrative, and several times after my having been gone for a few minutes, jumps into my arms, wraps his legs around my waist, puts his head on my shoulder, and squeezes me.

6) So. many. butterflies.

7) Spending time out in the grotto with James, Mal, and Shelby, taking only the kind of pictures Jim and Pam took at their wedding. Shelby loved it and was running around scaring me to death.

There is more, but one of the other joys of my life calls... :) I'll add more later.

Why I'll Never Get Into "Direct Marketing" (AKA "MLM")

There are so few things I can't say I'd never do. Honestly, I make it a point pretty much never to say that, because, holy cow, I've done some things in my life that I never would have imagined my doing.

However.

I can promise you, friends and family and all of the internets, I will never get into "sales" with a multi-level marketing format. I just won't. There is literally no life situation in which I could be that would entice me to do direct sales. None. I couldn't. I can't. I would suck at it. And here are some reasons why.

1. "Shamespiration" makes me physically ill. I have friends who post inspirational things on social media, because this is what flows out of them. Some post inspirational things in general. Some about the LGBT community. Some about working out and fitness (to each his own). Some about parenting. Awesome.

But there is a "tone" that comes through certain posts that is a flashing warning signal to me that someone just drank the MLM Kool-Aid and although they're not ready to show their cards yet, they're going to give you a freaking "higher plane" smackdown that's supposed to ripen you for the picking when they're at that place and want to reel you in, if you'll excuse me for mixing metaphors.

Listen, guys, we know this is a thing. A quick Google search, or a look at this cringe-worthy Pinterest page confirms it. Some of those sound great, right? I mean, what's wrong with starting a home-based business? Nothing. But are you really starting a home-based business if you're buying into someone else's business and moving merchandise to your friends and neighbors, really? To me, starting a business means finding a need and meeting it using your own mojo, but I majored in drama, so what do I know?

What's wrong with loving your work? Nothing. But you know who loves his job? My husband. You know what he isn't doing? Shaming people on social media who don't love their jobs as much as he does. Why? Because he's not a douche nugget. No one voted him their personal coach, so he doesn't have to send these malcontent vibes vaguely disguised as "helpful" quotes out into his social circles.

Anyway, this "tactic" is not stealth. We can smell it from a mile away, and if people are at all like me, it just makes us want to run in the other direction.

2. I'm not materialistic. Do you have to be materialistic to get into MLM? Probably not, but, gosh, they sell it like you do.

First, at almost any MLM pep rally, they seem to have a very targeted valet policy, which involves parking all of the Maseratis and Porches and whatnot in front of the venue, lined up nicely, so that "ambassadors" or whatever can take pictures of the amazing wheels, the purchase of which selling Company XYZs whatever facilitated. So they post these pictures to the tune of "See what you could have if you were doing what I'm doing?"

Second, photos of income checks. Seriously, people?! Did your parents not teach you that some things are just gauche? Think about it: There are LOTS of self-employed people. Does your independent insurance agent post his paychecks online? Or talk about how much money he makes? Your doctor? Your kids' teacher? Besides, if someone who provides a product or service to you is bragging about how very VERY much money they're making, wouldn't you be suspicious about what they're charging you?

I know, I know. They're not posting for the customers. They're posting for the down-link. It's really sleazy, if you asked me. It's like taking your privates out in public and bragging about them. If you're the real deal, and you're actually confident, and you have something worth having, you don't need to show it off. It just is what it is.

3. I'm content. Or maybe I should say that I'm not ambitious. My life is not extraordinary. It's pretty low key and I'm sure not many people notice it. I influence my immediate surroundings, but that's about it. And you know what? I'm good with it. A lot of direct marketing people talk about dreaming big, scary dreams. Well, maybe I have some of those in the pipeline, too, but you know what? They have literally zero to do with selling crap, and they have literally zero to do with raking in a bunch of cash at the expense of my relationships, counting on former friends and family either to buy from or sell under me. They have nothing to do with how much money I can make to buy my "freedom" to do what I really want to do. I want nothing but a full night's sleep, and obviously I could have someone manage the kid so I could sleep through, if I REALLY wanted that more than anything else, but apparently, I have different priorities. So even my most basic dreams are tempered by the fact that I'm not willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want.

According to the MLM machine, I'm to be pitied for the small life I'm willing to accept. Whatever. I'm pretty happy. Guess I'm just dumb and ignorant that way. There are worse things.

4. I am not willing to alienate my true friends and family. I'm just going to be honest here: I've noticed that, while it seems like most friends have longtime friends who try to be supportive when they first start with "direct marketing," over time, the only people responding to their tired old posts about their incredible lives with this company are other people involved in the selling. Where did their old friends and family go? It's just exhausting to feel "sold to" all of the time. There are the "informative" social media posts (which are actually touting whatever product it is, and/or bashing alternate products), the aforementioned "shamespiration" posts, the sales notices, the party notices... oh, and speaking of that...

THE "PARTIES," man. Those are the worst! "Free food" and "you don't have to buy anything" have to be the most disingenuous phrases ever. A party should have food, and you shouldn't have to buy anything. Those things aren't parties. They're sales conferences. I've been invited to so many "fun nights with some friends" to "help" a mutual friend with their "business" by acquaintances who have never before and not once since ever tried to get together with me on a personal level. Not one-on-one and not with several friends. It's not a party. It's not a social event. Don't insult us by pretending it is. I would never do that to people I respected and cared about... well, or to anyone, because... ugh. And that's why I can never do this stuff.

Once, a lady in Las Vegas invited me to a girls' night at her house. She'd hosted one or two before, but this time, after everyone had RSVPed and signed up for what food to bring, she let us know that she'd told one of the guests she could make her Southern Living Home presentation at the beginning, THEN we'd all party and head out to the pool, and don't worry, you don't have to buy anything, but, hey, let's all spend 40 minutes gushing over the cool stuff while the sign-up sheet goes around, anyway, and some of us are just fuming that we got bait-and-switched. Scummy business practice.

5. I'm too frugal (cheap?). I do not care what anyone says. I just don't. Whether it's Pampered Chef or Jamberry or Scentsy or Avon or anything... I know people have their favorite products from those lines, but I'm going to tell you something: You can get all of that stuff from other stores, usually cheaper and often much, much cheaper. The company line is that somehow, their products really are different enough that the ones at the stores are somehow inferior. There have been tests done. Yeah, I'm sure that there have. Whatever. No. I can't spend $25 on something I could get for $8.50 just because someone would rather push that stuff than work at McDonald's. I couldn't buy it myself as a distributor, either. I'm just way too conscious about what things costs and how much I spend.

6. I don't like being played. Here's the deal, guys. Did you ever go to church camp when you were younger, and you felt very close to God and then came home and after a while, you just felt achingly "normal" again? You learn that these are "mountaintop experiences" and while they're meaningful and all, that kind of emotional enthusiasm can't be sustained; you have to have something deeper. (And if you don't have a faith story like that, it can really be anything: when you won a spelling bee and felt super smart and loved school, or when you finally kissed that guy for the first time after having dreamt about it for twenty-plus years, or whatever.)

The "pep rallies" those companies have are exactly that. They have to keep whipping their distributors into a frenzy, reselling themselves over and over again so people don't get fed up and stop. When friends post pictures from their "awesome" weekend, I don't think, "Gosh, what a great life!" I think, "Gee, how are they getting caught up on their weekend chores, like ever?"

There's a scene from my favorite show, Scarecrow and Mrs. King, when they travel to a franchisee meeting for Marvelous Marvin's Hamburgers, and everyone very heartily sings this really stupid song that goes, "Let’s go to Marvin’s, and bite into a smile… We know you love burgers, so we go that extra mile… With juicy double patties, cheese, tomatoes, onions too. Served any way you like them, ‘cause we make them just for you…" That is what I picture in my head any time anyone goes to one of these things.

And what makes it *worse* is when God is mixed in. When a company leader hires a famous Christian musician to come "lead worship" at their sales convention? I'm sorry, people, but that's disgusting. I'm not judging any one person's experience here, because worship can and does happen anywhere and everywhere and that's fine. But to me, a company calculatingly uses (and abuses, in the Ten Commandment sort of way) God's name when it tries to create a camaraderie based on a common faith. It's wrong. They know what they're doing, even if the attendees don't. Please don't argue with me about this. Just because I'm cynical doesn't mean that I'm wrong. I'm 100% not wrong.

7. I can't play the games. In addition to the social media posts that don't come from the heart (I never ever do throw-backs, or change my profile picture in solidarity, or repost something I've been told to do, or participate in challenges, etc. so you can darn well bet I'm not going to post something my "boss" tells me to post on MY social media account), and the "acting like we're friends, but I really want to be your business associate (read: make money off of you)", and the general smarminess of hitting up friends and family, there's something else lots of MLM people do: Hit up strangers in public places.

I actually was asked in a Walmart to do a makeover for Avon, because of my beautiful skin, back when D was a baby and we lived in Vegas. I knew it was a sales thing, but I wanted to go because it was an excuse to get out of the house and have a few minutes to myself.

First, this lady had a legit cosmetics counter (think Dillard's) in her living room. She had drunk the 10-gallon Coleman cooler, man. Also, everything but that counter and the kitchen table had dust on it. Lots of dust. Even the kitchen cabinet doors. Vertical dust. She asked me if I wanted a drink, but I was too scared.

So she did the facial, then explained that she'd need to do the make-up part at a separate visit. I didn't buy anything that day because I was annoyed by her stupid game. I'd gone fully prepared to make some purchase, but instead told her I'd wait to see how my skin looked later and let her know.

When I went back for the make-up part, that was when the fun really started.

Toward the beginning, she handed me a concealer after putting some under my eyes, and she told me I could put it anywhere I had problem areas. I think I had a zit or something at the time, and I covered it. I handed it back to her, and she seemed disappointed, "That's it?" Well, yeah. Sorry I like my face.

Then she put on the foundation. She turned me away from the mirror to do the rest of it. When she got done, she was like a preschooler at Christmas. She turned me back toward the mirror, and... I thought, "This is too much makeup." But it didn't look bad. She'd given me a couple of tips I was able to use later, in every day wear, as well as a couple of things I used when we had pictures made. So I studied myself, smiled, and said, "It looks nice."

Once again, I apparently crushed her expectations.

"'Nice'?! Most women CRY when they see themselves for the first time."

Again, my obnoxious contentment with the normal, less covered-up state of my face just ruined everything for this woman.

In the end, I bought a couple of things, but I really hated the foundation. I never wear foundation, and the Avon foundation in particular, I could smell all day. I never stopped smelling it. It was not good.

Anyway, I wouldn't invite strangers into my home. I wouldn't approach a stranger under the guise of doing them some solid. I hate it when it's done to me, and maybe that's the thing: I have actual empathy and a desire to see people go about their lives happily instead of that "I know what would make you happy; do what I do, dammit!"

8. This attitude:

So, that's it, then? It's all about getting paid. It's about someone making money, honestly, even if it IS a scam (and pyramids always are, because someone's always at the bottom and gets screwed... which is why I also don't do those "mail one person a book and you'll get 36 books in two months" things, because they break down and someone loses). Even if it alienates friends and family. Even if it's just a flash in the pan and doesn't amount to anything ten years from now but a waste of your time and relationships. Even with all of that, at least for a while, you still get paid. Congratulations. And no thanks.



P.S. If you're in a direct marketing situation and you want to argue with me about how none of this is true, don't bother. It's true in the experiences I've had, so you don't need to defend a specific company, or try to convince me that it's different, better, the ambassadors are happy, etc. If you want to make a difference in the reputation of MLMs, then DO STUFF BETTER. Do it differently. The structure makes me skeptical that that is a possibility, but that's the only way you can change my mind. Words won't. I've experienced this for more than half of my middle-aged life.

This is What the Internet is All About...

Avenue Q's assertion aside, I am confident that this story represents one of the greatest uses of the internet, in terms of global shrinkage and the community of mankind and all of that hippie stuff.

A few weeks ago, I tried my first Cadbury Mini Eggs of the year, and of this new era of American chocolate replacing the genuine Cadbury Dairy Milk. Well, eww. They were subpar and disappointing. They had some white chocolate ones, and those were all right. But neither was anywhere near as good as last year's eggs (I should have stocked up!) and the regular chocolate ones... might as well have been big old M&Ms. Disappointing.

I took to social media to complain about this, because, you know, it's the 21st Century and that's what we do. Actually, for years now, I've told people that if they want something, just to put it out there on Facebook and the things have a way of happening.

To that end, I posted in a group of breastfeeding mamas of kids who are a year + since there seem to be a lot of Brits in the group. From their side, I heard that, sadly, Cadbury has changed the recipe of the mini eggs in Great Britain as well, and that now they blow equally badly.

It's funny: I've posted several things to that group, including videos of Mal feeding and doing various things, but that's the most response I've received to any post so far. More than a hundred people commented. Several offered to get me the eggs if I wanted to compare, and while that was sweet, I didn't feel like paying shipping for something that was that widely panned.

One woman, however, messaged me that she was, at that moment, eating Cadbury Snow Bites, which she described as similar to Mini Eggs, if you suck the powder off of them. She offered to send me some. Obviously, I found some on Amazon, so I told her if she could get them to me for less than $8 a bag, I'd take them!

She messaged me later and said that she got two and shipping was 7 pounds, which is roughly $10, so it saved me $6. Woo hoo!

Well, yesterday I got the package. First of all, shipping was 7.7 pounds, so she was just being nice. Then I realized she'd been *very* nice.

I was so happy to see the goodies; it was totally worth getting stung in the butt by a wasp on the walk down to the mailbox! So, there are two caramel Cadbury "eggs" (in name only; they're truffles). There's a "twisted" creme "egg," which is a truffle that looks like it's been twisted. The Eclair was a lot like a soft Werther's filled with runny caramel. The Fudge was a fudge-filled chocolate, and then the Whip was light chocolate. The Dairy Milk was just that delicious chocolate.

What about the Snow Bites?

They're round, but roughly the same circumference as the thickest part of a Mini Egg.

There is a light dusting of sugar and cornstarch, kind of similar to what's on a marshmallow.

The sugar shell isn't as thick as on the Mini Eggs, but, goodness, see that pretty Dairy Milk chocolate inside? Yayyy!

So, thanks to the internet, a lady on the other side of the world with nothing in common with me other than the fact that we both have toddler nurslings ran out to the store, bought candy, and sent it off in the mail, just because we were connected by a group on Facebook.

This is the internet at its finest!

Free Advice for Guys Who Want to Marry a Trim, Petite Lady

This week, Mal and I listened to the "Hairspray" soundtrack while I cooked on two separate days. It was emotional for me on many levels, but I wanted to address one of them today.

There's a great line in one of the songs when Wilbur sings, "You're old and fat, but, baby, boring you ain't."

Seriously, the most romantic song from any movie ever.

He's a guy who loves his lady because he loves her. And he always will.

But some guys really want a thin or conventionally-accepted-"athletic"-looking woman on their arm. And if that's you, young man, I have a couple of tips for you.

First, understand that this is no guarantee that once you marry your woman that she'll always be trim. Life happens. But you can stack the deck in your favor by employing the following techniques:

1) Marry a thin lady. One might think this could go without saying, but, no. Some men marry a lady they think they really love, except that she's kinda pudgy, and believe it or not, guys, women eventually pick up on this resentment. You might think, "Naw, babe, I love you even though you're fat" is flattering, but I can assure you that it is not.

Fat is an ethically neutral thing. It's not good. It's not bad. It just is. Some people have no desire to alter their bodies through diet and exercise (and often extreme diet or insane amounts of exercise), and that's a-okay. But if you find some extra flesh a little ookie, then just don't. Just keep walking. Or at least talk to your lady about it and figure out what you're going to do before you're all nuptualized and things get really complicated.

2) Learn her history. Even if your woman is a wee little thing, find out what her life has been like. Has she always been thin? Or has her weight fluctuated through adolescence, stressful seasons of her life, etc.? How many diets -- ahem, lifestyle changes -- has she tried? How does she feel about the gym? Has she ever had an eating disorder, or does she wish she had the willpower to develop one?

If her relationship with food, exercise, and weight is complicated, and it's super important for you to be married to a small woman, she's probably not the lady for you (in the long term, even if she looks "smokin' hot" now).

3) Look at her family. Are the older members of her family, female or male, waifish people? Or are they all pretty substantial folk? She might not like the idea that when you're looking at her parents, you're looking at her future, but genetics would indicate that this is so. And her body might be an anomaly, or she might be controlling genetically-predisposed weight gain through meticulous means, but that doesn't mean it will be successful forever.

/END LIST

Now, there is some room to talk about women "letting themselves go," and I get that it's not fair to do a bait-and-switch on a guy. It's important to take care of ourselves. But, also, when you get married, you both continue aging. Especially if you marry in your prime, it stands to reason that you're not going to carry around that flower of youth forever. If, as a woman, I'm made to feel like I have to compete with every other woman who is two years or thirteen years or twenty years younger than I am, it's not going to make for a peaceful, balanced marriage.

But what do you do if you're a man who married someone you found attractive at the time but now you find vaguely (or totally) repellant because of how her body has changed? I won't go into asking questions about whether she's carried your children, or how she's taken care of you over the years, or loved you through some ugly times. I really won't. Because if you have this problem, it really does need to be taken care of before it ruins your marriage.

First of all, I implore you to try to remember things you love about your wife. If you've been married for any length of time and can still manage to find yourself completely turned off by this person because of how she looks, I believe that you're not in love with her soul anymore. Love can cover a multitude of trespasses, with that whole "beauty in the eye of the beholder" thing being very real.

Try, really try, to love her unconditionally. Look at her and ask yourself, "If she never changes, will I still be able to love her?" If you can't answer that wholeheartedly "yes," even if you haven't said anything to her, I promise that your resentment is palatable and she knows something is wrong.

My advice would be similar to what Dr. Meg Meeker tells fathers of daughters: "Don’t remark on her weight—EVER. No pet names for parts of her body, no calling her sexy, and no telling her that she is chubby or that she could stand to lose a few pounds. No matter what you say about her weight, she will hear in her mind, 'My dad thinks I’m fat; therefore I am ugly.' Since you can’t win, avoid this. I can’t tell you the number of messes that I’ve been involved in undoing with daughters whose fathers have innocently commented about their weight as they grow up."

You're not her father, but you're someone who is supposed to love her unconditionally. Better or worse and all that. Dr. Meeker's advice is, if you're looking at this person you love and you're concerned in this way, go outside and get active with her. Oh my goodness, if you ask your wife to go hiking or on a walk or, if you're up for Husband of the Year, to a Zumba class with you, I can almost guarantee you that there will be squeals of delight. "Build strength," Dr. Meeker advised. "Not diminish." In other words, the goal isn't to make smaller, but to make more powerful.

It has to be.

If you're a man, unless you're gay or maybe have just had an extraordinarily difficult time of it with weight in your life, I don't think there's any way to understand how damaging to a relationship it is to have the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally tell you, whether as verbal diarrhea or even in a super nice way, that your appearance is disappointing. It's not impossible to come back from this, but it will cause a rift in any feelings of trust and security that you have built up, and it's extremely difficult to build those back up.

So, if you're pre-marriage and this is an issue, I'm asking you on behalf of women everywhere, just go. And don't feel guilty. Find a woman who's better suited for you. Believe it or not, there is a man out there who will love the woman you've left (better off) not in spite of her weight, but who will even find all of her attractive. So you're really doing everyone a big favor.

P.S. I'm not kidding about that Zumba thing. My husband went to a class with me before we were married, and he was all in. He had no idea what was going on, or how to keep up, or any of it, but he threw himself into it and was exhausted and sore and sweaty and all of that good stuff, and I'm telling you... it was amazing. Also, if you're a single guy and want to meet women, there are very few dudes in those classes (the one's I've attended, anyway). That's some extra free advice. You're welcome.

WE ARE UNPACKED!

Sorry for the yelling, but OH MY GOSH, what a week. We had the Bungo Boxes unpacked by Tuesday afternoon (thanks to my awesome parents who spent the weekend hanging out with Mal, then keeping him busy Monday morning and THEN kicking bootay unpacking Monday afternoon), and this weekend, James got his book situation handled, so we're in and it's already home!

There will be pictures within the next couple of days, I promise. This is the textual account of our move. :D

It's actually been a sort of on-and-off stressful week, but nothing that we can't or haven't handled.

Movers moved our stuff Monday. As I was coming up the stairs to let them in, a sweet older lady from downstairs came out and called to me, "I'm going to need you to come down here so I can see that baby." I guess she and her daughter (who is probably a bit younger than my parents, but not by much) had been watching us move in over the past month, and she wanted to meet Mal in person. I love her already, and now that we're all set up, plan to visit her after I bake some brownies or something. She is the person on whose patio I saw the cardinal who inspired me to get a bird feeder! She also puts out carrots, so she ends up with rabbits. Seems like an interesting lady.

Monday night, we realized that our water heater's pilot light wasn't on. Tuesday morning, I tried to turn it on, but to no avail. A maintenance person came to turn it on for us, and don't ask me how we didn't realize our hot water wasn't working until Friday afternoon, but we didn't. I know I took at least one more shower between Monday and Friday, but maybe the water was "un-cold" enough, I just didn't think much about it. Another maintenance guy came out Friday afternoon and said the pilot light was still lit, but the heater had to be turned up all the way or the water wouldn't get warm. Well, guess what? It's still not warm!

That is the one and only good thing about moving during the summer: It hasn't been too offensive, cold-wise. I've been taking Haiti showers, using a cup and bathing with Mal to kill two proverbial birds. Friday night, we boiled two pots of water to take the edge off. Tonight, it was again "not cold," even though it wasn't hot, either. It wasn't even lukewarm. It was just tolerable. So I'll have to call them again tomorrow. At least we know they respond quickly, as we've had a few issues.

The next thing is that Saturday week, we were supposed to get a Prime Pantry order from Amazon. We didn't, though they said it was delivered. I asked our neighbor if they'd taken it, but they hadn't. Monday, my dad checked the mailbox (where the USPS said they'd left it) and there were no keys. Using the Amazon app, I requested a replacement, which they sent, no questions asked. It was supposed to be here Thursday.

Another thing that was supposed to be here Thursday was a wi-fi signal booster for D's room. She hadn't been able to connect to the internet on her desktop since we moved in. This is a big deal for my gamer/social media girl. She had been hardwired at the house, so this was already a huge change.

Thursday night, I get the notification that the stuff has been delivered, so D and I drove down to the mailbox (it's more than 1/3 of a mile from the apartment, and we were expecting a big box) and guess what? Nothing. I called Amazon this time, and they said they'd replace both, and that the Pantry box would be here by Saturday and the wi-fi booster would be here by Monday. Ugh. No. I told them to cancel both orders and I'd just go to the store. He asked, "Are you sure you want to do that?" I told him that of course I didn't! But why was I to believe that they would be here this time? He said they were sending them UPS, which delivers to the door, but I canceled, anyway. Ugh.

That night, Daphne and I went to Best Buy to get a booster. Mal was not please, apparently crying the whole time I was gone, except for 30 second breaks here and there (poor James!). Also, the booster didn't work. James worked on that for a while, too, and said that her network adapter was the problem, so we ordered a USB network adapter antenna. Yes, from Amazon. I didn't have the heart to get back out.

The next day, Mal and I went to Target to get some cleaning supplies that were supposed to have come in the Amazon haul.

When we got home, both James and I received an email from our apartment office that three boxes had arrived for us (cue "I see what's coming"). James went over to pick it up, and, sure enough, it was TWO identical (except for padding) Prime Pantry boxes, and that booster.

First, we'd already given the booster up as a bad job. But the cleaning supplies! Good gravy. We have 4 Swiffer Wet Jet refills, 3 duster refills, 3 Swiffer dry refills, 2 boxes of trash bags, 2 boxes of recycling bags, about 10 hand soaps, 6 boxes of Pull-Ups, 2 boxes of night Pull-Ups, etc. So. Much. Stuff. Fortunately, I don't like going to the store, so storing them is actually preferable. Then there's the fact that except for what I bought at Target, it was all free. That's right, they'd already processed my refund before I received all of the stuff, but since the delivery person messed it up, we're all square. And I'm mostly happy with Amazon again, nasty vacuum cleaner notwithstanding. I just wish they'd always use UPS.

A beautiful picture to break up the monotony. This happened Tuesday afternoon.

So, Daphne's internet. Saturday, we got the USB antenna. Guess what? NOTHING. Late that evening, my super cool brother-in-law came over and did two things: First, he brought two of his older kids, who entertained Mal and me for half an hour or so. That was great. But second, he fixed the problem! He actually hardwired Daphne's computer into a power outlet, and it works because science, I guess. I wasn't there, I don't know. All I know is that I haven't seen Daphne in 24 hours, as per usual, so that must be a good sign, internet-wise.

Actually, since we moved in, Daphne has hung out and chatted with me almost every day for an hour or so, and that's a huge change. We let her put her computer in her room with this move (I know; all child development experts say don't, but she stays up so late, we don't watch her online for several hours per day, anyway... and we can see what she's seen because, again, science; and she knows we can always change that permission), and I think she's being more sociable on purpose, so we don't decide she's too much of a hermit and pull the computer back out. Honestly, it works better for everyone. It was difficult for her to make Skype calls (which she does when she's gaming a lot) in our living room; either we had to be quiet, or she couldn't really have a conversation.

Anyway, I love talking to her. I love her perspective. I love that she has opinions she's actually researched. She's a pretty cool kid.

Mal has been probably dealing with this move, some teething, and tons of milestones this week, which has made him cranky, restless, and demanding... except when he's not. When he's happy, he's happy and darling. But he's deciding not to be a lot right now. I think he was also a bit sick for a while, and the whole thing has been blurgh. I'm hoping for a better week for him, and by extension, for me. I'm just grateful he was so terrific on moving day! A lot of that was because there were two other very enthusiastic adults watching and playing with him. He really connected with Nana and maybe especially Pappy this weekend, so I have high hopes when we go see family this winter that he'll warm up to them in no time!

Milestones: actually looking at/"talking" about pictures in a book; doing stuff he knows he's not supposed to by checking that we're looking first, grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and getting on with it; removing and putting back on a defective lid on one of his cups (he saved this one for James, who I'm glad got to see it first!). Probably more, but I'm running out of steam!

I've has asthma symptoms on and off all week, likely a combination of stress, having carpet (which I LOVE), and all of the crap we're stirring up in our unpacking. Earlier this week, I knocked it out by taking a bike ride. This morning, it was worse, and I was so tired, with Mal being so fussy, that when I tried to strap him into the baby carrier, I couldn't close the latch behind me because holding my arms up to do so smothered me; I could not breathe. So James spent the day trying to find an OTC asthma remedy I'd used before. My last albuterol inhaler ran out earlier this week, but the final couple of dozen doses did nothing for me, and even the first didn't help a whole lot. Back in the day, sucking on an inhaler felt like a miracle at that first puff. You could just feel your chest loosening, airways opening up. Not anymore. It's so so stupid. I'm pretty sure the CFCs in those inhalers did not have much of an environmental impact, Plus, some people's asthma is bad enough that they die, so making meds less effective seems counterproductive to me.

Anyway, James came back with ephidrine tablets, so I'm on those and loratadine until this clears up. Feeling much better tonight. AND I got another bike ride in.

Riding around here is going to be a challenge. It's all hills. Tuesday, I rode around the complex a couple of times, then up into a neighborhood behind us, and around a loop trail. Today, I was going to repeat it, only backwards, but where I should have turned into the loop, someone had a big dog I didn't feel like going around, so I stayed on the trail and ended up in the back of their neighborhood. I was able to ride around and get back home, and it was about the same length as my first ride, but with different scenery. Lots of gear-shifting, even using gears I practically never use. And Mal loves it.

At this point, we now know the mom/daughter who live caddy-corner under us, the family of what I believe to be a mom, young adult daughter, and young adult son who live next door, and a couple with a 7-year-old daughter who live directly beneath us. That's it for our end of the building. I also met a gentleman who lives on the other side of the building as he was out walking his dog last night and Mal and I were on the balcony. It's cool to know so many people already!

Off of the balcony, we have seen many birds, including cardinals (at least one couple and another few assorted males and females) and, yesterday, a woodpecker; rabbits; squirrels; and yesterday, a beautiful coyote! The cats have all gotten outside and enjoy it immensely. I hope they see the coyote sometime, lest the get the idea that they should go on a walkabout in the trees!

Then there was the rainbow the other afternoon, and there has been lightning pretty much every night since we moved in. Our view is beautiful, and I wonder if I'll ever get tired of watching birds, and clouds, and whatever else pops up out there.

On with the adventure...

An Anniversary, in our own words

This weekend is the third anniversary of the weekend when James and I got reacquainted after so many years. People ask if it was Facebook where we reconnected, and that's only sort of the case. We'd kept in touch ever since high school.

I wrote him when he was in the Navy. We spoke on the phone and via letters several times over the years. How *did* we find people before the internet? Well, anyway, I'd found him somehow when he and his brother's family were dirt farming in Oklahoma, and then again later when we communicated through Yahoo! emails.

So, yeah, this time we were communicating via Facebook, which he hates. But he didn't have a phone at the time, and it was the easiest way to do things. I have deleted emails, but fortunately Facebook saved some pretty important stuff.

I'd been trying to get James down to Dallas to visit for some time. He always had an excuse. Then my friend Sherri and I were planning a trip to Austin, the very trip where I decided once and for all to move here, in fact.

• May 7, 2012
• 

  5/7, 6:49pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I wish you could come to Austin with me this weekend.
• May 9, 2012
• 

  5/9, 9:29am
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I do too. That sounds like a *lot* more fun than attending my dad's funeral. unsure emoticon
• 

  5/9, 9:58am
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Oh, sweetie, I am so, so sorry. When/where is the funeral?
• May 10, 2012
• 

  5/10, 6:17am
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Saturday afternoon, in Coffeyville.
• 

  5/10, 8:30am
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I was kind of hoping it was Sunday... I will be tied up tomorrow and Saturday. Let me know if you need anything, okay?

I wanted desperately to be at that funeral. I even looked at flights or the possibility of driving up Sunday... But it didn't work.

We chatted a couple of times after the funeral, which was difficult for him, as one would imagine, but also for different reasons than the standard very sad loss of a father.

It seemed like that on top of some other life experiences he was having had messed with his head and he was just out of it.

Except this was pretty funny:

• 

  5/13, 4:26pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Aliens hate love.

  
  

  What's your "big move"?

  
  

  (Have you seen "Crazy. Stupid. Love"?)
• 

  5/13, 4:32pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  If not... to sweep her off of her feet, what's your strategy? Do you have a "thing," or are you just charming and stuff?
• 

  5/13, 4:33pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Like I'd tell you. Someday it'll work wink emoticon
• 

  5/13, 4:33pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Nope. I'm hopeless.
• 

  5/13, 4:35pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Yeah, whatever. You know how badly you want me.

Reading back over the messages is a little tough, because I was trying so hard to be humorous and carefree, and James was so distant and edgy. We were both trying to be friendly and support each other, but now that I know us together... it's just jarring.

• May 28, 2012
• 

  5/28, 9:56am
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  What the hell happened to you, man??
• May 29, 2012
• 

  5/29, 5:31pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  (Not that I'll be spending much time in front of it now...just happened to check in at random)
• 

  5/29, 5:31pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  He lives!!

  
  

  Just glad you're still around. wink emoticon
• May 30, 2012
• 

  5/30, 6:53am
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I immersed myself in the Dresden Files and read the entire series all in a row, just because I've been in that kind of mood. Couldn't really motivate myself to look at a computer.

• June 2, 2012
• 

  6/2, 5:58pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Hey! Please please please... I desperately need a visit, sir. I have a business trip next week but will be home Friday evening. Could Tulsa spare you for like 48 hours? I have a Groupon for an amazing meal, and I could cook for you the rest of the time. I am planning to move to Austin in August and would love to see you before I go. Let me know.
• June 5, 2012
• 

  6/5, 5:53pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I need more room than facebook provides for a response. Do you still check laura_hattaway@hotmail.com, or is there a better place to send it?
• 

  6/5, 6:47pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  That will work.

Yeah, I straight-up begged. And, no, I'm not sharing that email with you. It was basically to the tune of, "These aren't the droids you're looking for." In other words, no. I think I wrote back with, "Yeah, I'm totes coming." Then this happened back over on Facebook.

• June 7, 2012
• 

  6/7, 8:15pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  
• 

  6/7, 8:40pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Uhhh...

Right. Blank-o.

So I spent the rest of the next day wondering what the heck to do. In the end, I said I was going to drive up, and James did actually tell me where he lived. So I went. And I cooked. And we ate at Cheesecake Factory and went to this place and talked and really caught up on 20 years or so of our histories.

Then I drove home, expecting nothing.

• June 10, 2012
• 

  6/10, 2:35pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Made it home! smile emoticon Thanks, sir!!
• 

  6/10, 2:37pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  No, thank *you*. Working on something that might let you feel appreciated.
• 

  6/10, 2:39pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  I thought you were crocheting me a quilt.
• 

  6/10, 2:44pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Or a short story. Or back story. Or something along those lines.
• 

  6/10, 2:44pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Sure.
• 

  6/10, 2:46pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  What do they call those delicate crochet things Grandma used to drape over her leggings? Doilies?

  
  

  Something along those lines
• 

  6/10, 2:47pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Yes

  
  

  Doilies.
• 

  6/10, 2:47pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I'm glad you're home safe. That means a lot to me.
• 

  6/10, 2:47pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Me, too! grin emoticon

  
  

  So... doilies?
• 

  6/10, 2:49pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Yeah. And unicorns and poppy seeds or whatever it was
• 

  6/10, 2:50pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I think there was a chat fail.

  
  

  All I got was:

  
  

  The question about doilies.

  
  

  Did you say something else?
• 

  6/10, 2:51pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  I was probably going somewhere else

  
  

  But, whatever
• 

  6/10, 2:52pm
  

  Laura Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Okay. :|
• 

  6/10, 2:54pm
  

  James Gatannah
  

  
  

  
  

  Urgh. I don't know how to tell you how to tell you how awesome you are, and you aren't going to believe me

But you know what? Three years later, I'm starting to believe him.