Lovin' on the 'Rents

Putting up with three of the four of us

Clothing Line Clashes:  Banana Republic Mad Men meets Lane Bryant for Kids

Can you read the magazine title baby brother or are you just looking at the pictures?  Yes, It's Playboy

Never Looked Better - unless you count today!

If you keep up with me on Facebook, you know that my dad recently received the Citizen Award, presented by the Michigan Historic Preservation Network. This honor is reserved for an outstanding individual, who through personal effort and/or involvement in historic preservation projects has made a significant contribution to the preservation of Michigan’s heritage. Dad was nominated by their very cool friend and neighbor, Susan, for scoring close to one million bucks in grants and matching funds - I’m rounding up from about $900K. And speaking of rounding up, he also corralled a bunch of volunteers who racked up thousands of hours of time, his hours included, to make hefty upgrades to three Marshall Historical Society museums, including the famous Honolulu House.

When I called Dad to congratulate him and see how the awards ceremony went, he was appropriately humbled, tried to give credit to others, thrilled to no end that my baby sis was there to (as a surprise to him) present his award, and not exactly sure what to do with the award itself. He’s been retired for over 20 years now and doesn’t have an office wall on which one would typically hang this sort of thing. Well, unless you count an upstairs section of their house…where he tucks himself away…on the computer…researching stocks...listening to radio talk show hosts with whom I'd never be caught dead…into the wee hours of the night…communicating with my mother via Morse code...by pounding on the floor. Three foot stomps means “I’m on the phone and the person with whom I’m speaking wants to talk to you too”.

I called my mom tonight and sure enough, dad is still at it. Even after winning the award, he and other volunteers continue to work away. He’d spent several recent days painting historical markers on the sidewalks of my hometown all while alternating sitting and standing and crouching and stooping and bending and reaching (and for my co-workers, other social security disability lingo). Thank goodness mom had marked off his calendar this week for some time off at their cottage (even though I’m sure that while there he had a three mile long to do list). And, thank goodness, when I called, dad was in town getting a well-deserved massage.  He promised to bring back dinner afterwards.  While I was waiting for Doc. B. to bring home Sheik Burritos, mom figured dad would be coming home with Taco Bell, McDonald's or Wendy’s.

Loving on my sweet, humble, frugal parents today and every day!

Attachment Issues



Hoodie and a Fist Bump - Happy and cool...

 I’m logging back into blogger after an almost two month hiatus. While it wasn’t necessarily on purpose, I have published at least one blog entry every month since September 2005. Wll, there was August 2008 that I missed for some reason and June and July of 2009 that got neglected for some other reason. I bet if I looked back on those dates I’d find that I was either too depressed to write or having too much fun to write. The extremes are usually the culprit when my motivation takes a vacation. Either way, somewhere in the back of my head, it’s been my intention to post a blog entry every single month. I never set out to do that. It just became that.  And it stresses me out a little when I don't.


The fact that I know and recognize this fully confirms my Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) IV diagnosis (300.3) of obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). Or to put it in spiritual terms – it confirms my attachment issues.

Thanks to the big screen, we’re all familiar with OCD. Think Jack Nicholson as Melvin Udall in As Good as it Gets. Hand washing, refusing to use restaurant silverware, not stepping on cracks, and counting the number of times he locked his door. I’ve never watched the television show Monk but apparently that character suffers from OCD as well. You get the picture. All of these “must dos” interfere with one’s ability to focus, to get along in life and to connect with people. We all probably have some sort of routine that we just have to follow…or else…or else it messes us up.

That’s pretty much my view of what attachment issues are – a lesser (or not?) level of OCD. What do we have in our lives and our daily routines, that if it gets interfered with, screws us up, plays with our heads, keeps us in our heads, and makes us anxious or depressed? We all know that nothing stays the same and that we have no control over most things in our life. Becoming attached to things, routines, people, and life in general is normal. Recognizing these attachments, noticing what’s happening in our minds when our attachments get knocked around, acknowledging what’s happening, and letting it move along, is not as easy as it sounds.

So what am I attached to besides writing a blog entry at least once per month?

• Being happy and cool - see above.

• The weather channel – I must know the forecast, especially when I’m vacationing or walking to MARTA.

• My two favorite places to lay down my yoga mat at Yoga Samadhi – it messes me up when I have to practice in a different spot!

• Stephanie’s spot in the yoga studio – it takes me time to get over it when someone else takes her spot!

• Sleep – loving this extra hour this morning!

• Olives and popcorn - enougj said.

• Glenn Campbell’s latest version of Wichita Lineman.

• Religious handouts – see below.

• My hairdresser – see below

• Speaking of Pam, Michigan accents.

• My good health – this getting old thing sucks.

• Pet names that co-workers, friends and family call me - such as sweetie, honey, boo, Carrie O, Care O., little bunny fu fu, and Care Care.

• My pets

• Doc. B.

• Going to yoga everyday

• Being predictable and non-impulsive – thus the reason I’m purposefully skipping yoga today – working on my attachment issues – it’s not going so well. I keep thinking I should be there instead of drinking coffee while sitting on my butt in front of the computer!

Hair Salon "hoodie" and a beer - Happy and cool.

Diary of a Wimpy Adult

Wimp Yourself

I’ve always known it, and yesterday confirmed it, I’m a wimp. Have been since I can remember and there’s no reason to believe I won’t remain that way. It’s caused me grief in the past and probably will in the future, but at my age, I’d say that’s just the way it’s going to be. I’m okay with it.  And I'm okay with my gravestone marker including the quote "she was so nice"...though it would be cool if someone would just go ahead and add "bless her heart" just to humor me.


But why did yesterday confirm it? It was the ten year anniversary of the September 11, 2001 massacre and I couldn’t bring myself to watch any of the reminiscing specials on television. Too much for this nervous, skittish, unassertive, girl who, ironically, was glued to the television back in September of 2001.

So yesterday I avoided the radio and the TV all day long. Despite that, it didn’t stop the world from putting my wimpiness right in front of my face.

We started off the morning with our yoga practice on the porch. It was so peaceful with the birds chirping and splashing around in the fountain. The hummingbirds and honey bees were the only things dive-bombing in the clear blue sky.  Well, that and an angry blue jay.  While I was supposed to be lying still in savasana, I instead watched a squirrel run away from blue jay.  Wimp.

After yoga, we went out to breakfast at Java Jive and sat next to a family of 4 - Mom, Dad, 12 year old daughter and 10 year old son. Daughter had on a fitted t-shirt that said “Be Aggressive!”. Son had a mohawk and a muscle shirt that said “Punish with Power”. Where do they sell these childrens' shirts? Did they make them back in the early 70’s when I was having my first and only fist fight with the neighborhood bully? Nope. I doubt it. I'm pretty sure I lost that fight.  Wimp.

Then we hit the Whole Foods for a few items to get us through the week. I made sure to park us strategically so we wouldn’t have to walk past Pet Smart where they would no doubt have a parade of free puppies, dogs, kittens and cats lined up at the front door on floats worthy of Macy's at Thanksgiving. I just can’t walk past those furry babies without feeling sad and guilty. Wimp.

So after breakfast we came home to again relax on the back porch with those hummingbirds and honey bees. And relaxing it was…until a plane flew overhead. Planes are a normal occurrence since we live only a few miles from the busiest airport in the world - but I swear this plane was flying way too low. I could hear the sputtering engine and all sorts of noises you don’t usually notice. As my blood pressure and heart rate were spiking, I looked up.  Turns out it was just a bi-plane, flying at its typical altitude, out for a Sunday saunter. Wimp!

The rest of the day I moved mushroom logs, used a power drill, raked leaves, pulled weeds by hand, chopped up the rest with the weed eater, and drank a beer.  Not so wimpy I guess! 

Hope your day balanced out like mine did and that you embrace your wimpiness, bitchiness, strength or orneriness - whatever suits you!