You Dont Have to Love It, You Just Have to Live It

A Former Cynics Path to Yoga, with Doubting Thomas as a Travel Mate

I recently decided to commit more time to me. Just me and what makes me happy. Summer was really hectic, and now that it's winding down I am grateful to have time to myself. I took up guitar, which has been a humbling and electrifying experience. And I decided to return to yoga.  Ten years ago, yoga changed my life and was the beginning of my "awakening" period. I found myself telling two friends about that time in my life recently and decided I'd share it with you, in the hopes that if you are on the verge of saying yes to something that feels right, it pushes you over that ledge into the wonderful unknown.



Ten years ago, I lived a very different life. I was at least 40 pounds heavier with cropped bleached hair and I hide behind pounds of makeup. I worked 60 hours a week in finance, and was a mom, wife and what I suspect was a crappy friend. I had been married for a short time by then and was the breadwinner, which dumped some added pressure on me. So when my office told me I'd be picking up two additional roles, I didn't dare say no. After all, I was getting the two jobs of people who had been let go, I didn't want to be next.  I lived in fast forward, I drove a fast car, I cooked fast, I worked fast and I never slept. I also lost everything that makes me...me.  Which was a lot, considering my thousand and one interests and quirks. 

I started to notice I was aging rapidly.  I had bags under my eyes, I was fatigued and most alarmingly, my hair was falling out. I have the most obnoxious head of hair, which I've become grateful for over the recent years, and I have lots and lots of it.  So for me to have hair loss that was noticeable is alarming, I assure you. I promptly ran to my OB/GYN, because I was certain it was a simple hormone imbalance.

My OB is a jokster...his license plate says "GOLDFNGR". I'm not joking. When I first read it I was certain I was supposed to be appalled by an OB/GYN having a license plate that declared him Goldfinger, but instead it put me at ease that he didn't take himself too seriously.  He is one for speaking directly, however, and gave me a severe talking to when I got in his office. After insisting that I can't be super mom, super wife, super executive, super daughter, super sister and super friend without some kind of balance, he told me I needed to quit my job and take up yoga. Okay Doc...dont send me a bill then, because I'll be broke and living in a card board box. No forwarding address for me.



I knew I couldn't quit, but I could do the yoga part, right? Except that I left out one big hurdle: I was extremely critical and a sarcastic person, and totally unwilling to be open to the New Age hocus pocus that yoga represented for me.  I looked up a close studio, and went armed to the hilt with eye rolls, snorts and snarky comebacks.  I walked into the studio, which was admittedly beautiful and had lovely music playing, and was full of woman on their yoga mats chatting it up.  They were a friendly enough group, I thought. I wasn't sold though.  I tossed my blanket haphazardly on the floor, eye roll at the ready.

And then the instructor walked in, all wrapped in white and surrounded by a light I had never seen. And she was serene. How many people can you say that about?! None for me up until that point. She was smiling and happy, and looked at peace. And immediately, I slowed down and one thought popped into my head: "I want that peace."  That was a moment for me.



So I went through the class, uncomfortable with the chanting and quietness that existed. And though I knew I wanted that peace, I didn't want to think that yoga was the answer or even part of it. I didn't like to be slowed down, because then I would be force to do what I had spent years NOT doing: looking honestly at myself. Seeing starkly what I didn't like about my life, which was a majority of it, other than my daughter. She was seemingly the only thing I was doing right.  My career was going well, but it took me working myself to death in order to be successful at it.

But I went back, because I had no other options and no other place that provided me that quiet that I found in that room. And slowly, my cynicism dropped away. My heart opened, I began to want to give back.  I was starting to see things clearly, and it wasnt as scary as I thought it was. I realized I had time to get back what I had lost.  But I also became painfully aware of how much I HAD lost, which made the road ahead a long one.



Even after I realized how long my road was, I knew that I had found the one important thing I had lost over the years: HOPE.  I continued practicing at that same studio for some time afterwards, I committed as much time as I could, which was admittedly not enough. I moved far away, I tried other studios. Not one compared to that original instructor, so I attended drop in classes with her as much as I could, which some years was very little. But I found  a few very good practices closer to my homes and attended them somewhat regularly over the years. But they were always more what I call a "gym" practice versus a spiritual practice.  However, I was still practicing and I was happy to have that over the years while I made some very drastic life changes. I always came back to it when I needed it.

Recently I had a friend mention she wanted to begin yoga, and I felt that she may be exactly where I was all of those years ago.  I took it as a sign to take her to my original teacher, in the meantime I welcomed the chance to return as well.  We went last night, and I was happy and content, and exactly where I wanted to be.  She decided today to commit to a six-week course, which will be the most time she's spent on herself in years.

I'm blessed that I have found a path that has worked for me, I'm hopeful that she (and you, if you havent yet) will be as lucky. It's varied and bumpy sometimes, and veers off track periodically. But my path surely leads to my True North, of this I'm certain.

Keep your eyes open, the opening to your path could make itself visible to you any day. Just make sure you stop rolling your eyes long enough to see it.



*If you're interested in the Lotus necklace seen above, please follow this link to Payton Woodcraft. It's beautifully inspired.  If you would like to attend a yoga class at the best place around, please visit the Khalsa HealingArts Center website for information. Namaste.

No polyester required Pot Luck Dinner. Warning: Only invite people who can cook.

One thing I’ve learned to master in my singledom is party hosting. I use the term master very loosely, please remember. What I mean by that is that I have learned to not stress, which in turn makes it successful to me. To the attendees? I’m not entirely sure.   But I do think there’s a lot to be said for a party at which the host isn’t going bonkers and sweating profusely.  Come on, we’ve all been there.  Either as the sweaty hostess or the party goer who can’t stop looking at the sweaty hostess because it’s like a train wreck.

At some point, I just realized that only so much will get done.  I usually continue to do small things once my girlfriends arrive because most of the time, we hang out in my kitchen regardless. So I push the small items (slicing, dicing, dips, etc) to the last moment. And there are worst things then having your friends there to talk to and help you out while you all catch up. It makes it not seem like work. More like working distracted (don’t slice and dice while distracted…or they will be driving you the ER. Not fun.)  Anything messy and on the stove I take care of ahead of time, I try to always make sure my mess is cleaned up prior to any arrivals.

But I have recently (yesterday) discovered the best way to reduce stress and simplify. And bring the 70’s back….drum roll please….POT LUCK DINNER PARTY!  I know there are some associations with the name “Pot Luck”, such as: “Do I have to wear a polyester jumpsuit?”  Nope.  “Does my dish have to be served in a goldenrod colored Corning ware?” Nah. “Will Saturday Night Fever be playing in the background?” Maybe.  But please men, no open shirts with exposed chest hair and gold chains. Thanks for that.

Oh, I Googled 70's and polyester and Ralph Furley came up. I love him, and that show. Just saying.



What I did was ask a few trusted friends over. And by trusted, I mean friends that I know are good cooks. I’m no dummy!   I set a time and a theme, which in our case was just Fall. I told them each what the main dish would be (i.e. the meat of the meal, or what dish the meal is built around) which was turkey, and I supplied the drinks, bread and location.  One friend brought a starchy side (Twice Baked Potatoes!), another brought the veggie side (Green Bean Casserole, which I traditionally hate but hers rocked) and the other friend brought the dessert and app (Apple Pie, Toffee Pear Sticky Pudding and Baked Brie for an app). Everything was outstanding, and ready to go when everyone got here. All I had to do was have the table set and room for the dishes available.  And then guess what? Everyone got to sit down around the table and enjoy each others company!  That alone is amazing to me. No one was running around or spent time worrying about what wasn’t done. 



I did make sure I had a “kid zone”, which was a table covered with plastic sheeting, stocked with markers and coloring books that they could eat at (I have chicken fingers and juice boxes for them so they were happy and parents could relax). 

We got to have a delicious, team effort dinner with few interruptions or requests.  And I got to deliver my thought out toast (I did think it out for about 35 seconds), which was nothing more than, “To us, at this moment.”  Because after all, who knows what will happen a month or a year down the road?  All I knew was at that moment, surrounded by love, good wine and good food, I wouldn’t have asked for anything else.



Here are the directions for the delish Twice Baked Potatoes, thanks to Rod and Katina:

Begin by microwaving your potatoes, unwrapped, for 8 minutes for one and adding two minutes for each additional potato (So three potatoes equals 12 minutes).  Once cooled, scoop out the inside of the potato, you can halve them and leave the empty half skins aside. Empty the potatoes into a bowl, add warm milk (it's important that its WARM milk, cold screws up the texture), butter, salt and seasoning to taste. Katina favors garlic powder.  And the most important part (also known as her "secret" ingredient. Obviously not so much now.) is shredded white mozzarella cheese.  Add it into the potato mix, again to taste. It ends up almost looking like an instant potato consistency.  Scoop heaping spoonfuls of the mixture back onto the empty potato halves, top it with shredded cheddar cheese (crumbled bacon would rock right about now, for all you diet conscious folks) and bake for 10-15 minutes at 35 degrees.

And the directions for the awesome Green Bean Casserole, also known as "Kristi's Slightly Famous and Slightly Crunchy Green Bean Casserole":

2 lbs of fresh green beans

French's onion rings 2 lg containers

2 cans of cream of mushroom

1 can of cream of garlic

 3 oz of sharp cheddar cheese

1/2lb of your favorite american cheese

 

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Clean and cut ends and of green beans.   Then cut green beans to desired length.  I usually cut into 3 pieces which makes it a good bite size.   Put into large casserole dish or two small if you would like to save one.  

Add 2 cans of cream of mushroom, and the can of cream of garlic and mix well so all the green beans are covered.  Add one can of onion rings.   Shred sharp cheddar and sprinkle though out and mix well with all the other ingredients,  layer the top with the slices of american cheese.  Sprinkle a thin layer of onion rings.

Cook for 25 minutes and serve.  

Guaranteed that who have shied away from this Thanksgiving staple will now have a new favorite to look forward to every year:) <----Says Kristi. Though as a former vehement hater of GB Casserole, I agree that this is a fresh and awesome new take. I know it has something to do with the american cheese.

 

And lastly but certainly not least is the link for the Toffee Pear Sticky Pudding that Andrea made.  I assure you, even when you're full from turkey, roast, twice baked potatoes, green bean casserole, bread, butter, wine and brie, you will make room for this pudding. Not that I ate all of those things and still had dessert, but I HEARD of some woman who did. And I also heard she wasn't sorry. At all.

Map of the US= The Map of Us

Last weekend was the last of my extensive travelling that I’ve been doing this summer. Whew!  Despite my vast love of travel (hence that “Wanderlust” part in my blog title) I am happy to have some down time. I have many things in my house that have been neglected for an entire summer. And I’m not even mentioning my garden that has become a little shop of horrors.

I began to do a mental count of my summer in numbers, and came up with this:

8- states I traveled west through and then east again on my way to and from Colorado

7- beach weekends

12- books read

2- mountain ranges that I have slept in the valley of

1- Fourth of July Fireworks show attended in the Rockies

1- highest unpaved road in the United States travelled

1- five star hotel I’ve stayed at in Vale

1- horses ridden (well, he ran) while laughing maniacally through the Rocky Mountains

4000- miles put on my camper since its purchase in May

10,105- Uncomfortable, unforgettable, educational and spiritual moments spent with friends, lovers, ex-lovers and family



 I could go on, but when I did a Google search for a map to count states on, I had to input this into the little, all too familiar Google window: Map of US.

Now, on the surface, it looks like just what it was, me doing a search for a map of the United States. But then I looked again, and saw that it said “map of us”.  And it dawned on me that all of these numbers I was looking up were exactly that: a map to me, and to the kids and me.

I spent the summer showing my kids numerous valuable lessons without trying too hard, which I think are the best lessons.  I showed them that best friends are important, and they’re family. That you can travel across the country with them, or sit in the sand with them, it’s the time spent that counts most. I demonstrated that you can meet and be close friends with people who live thousands of miles away, it’s only geography. Sometimes kindred spirits can’t be limited by distance, and that people are brought into your life for a reason. 



We all lived the lesson that, even if it’s terrifying for a moment (or several), sometimes climbing up that unpaved pass up a mountain opens the door to you seeing things that most other people will never have the courage or privilege to see, let alone share with each other.  I got to see wildlife that only grows 14,000 feet above sea level.  And I shared it with my kids who will never forget it.



I taught them the lesson that hard work pays off, whether it’s by buying a camper and camping out with your kids or spending an expensive night at a five star, fancy shmancy place (as seen below!).  You have to work for what you have, and you can choose to have as much or as little as makes you happy.



I realized today that this map that I’ve drawn for myself and have helped my kids draw, is priceless… that they’ll look back and realize they can live fearlessly. They can make friends with strangers in campgrounds, they can cry over beautiful moments forever impressed in their memory; they can enjoy the simplicity that they find in quiet while swinging on a swing set in the Rocky Mountains. That they are free to enjoy the unforgettable sound of high white birch trees as they sway over their heads while on horseback.



And most importantly, they realize their map is theirs to complete.  Just as mine still is, every day. I make my choice of who my friends are, who I give my heart to and how I spend my moments every day. 

Your map is all your own, for you to find you own compass to navigate it with. Now’s your chance to pull out your highlighter and throw out your GPS and decide where you want to go next!

Do what they say, say what you mean, one thing leads to another? The importance of telling people how you feel.

 

I spent a lot of time these last few weeks talking at length with my friends. We covered all topics while we sat in the sun on the beach. And it was perfect. 



While we did cover everything from politics to men to kids, one theme repeatedly came up. And what was that theme? Something fun? No. It was to say what you mean.  Not as simple as it would seem, because it comes with all kind of uncomfortable feelings attached.

But don’t you think there’s a point that you come to in your life when you get tired of tip toeing around? And I’m referring to saying what you mean, good and bad. For instance, I met someone over the weekend that was going to meet a girl she had a falling out with.  When I asked what the falling out was about, she said because the woman just wasn’t a good person.  She proceeded to explain and give examples, and from what I heard I would agree with her. I asked if she intended to tell the woman when she saw her. Initially, she said no. But once we continued to speak, she had changed her mind. This “old friend” of hers had been intentionally cruel and snarky on several occasions, and demonstrated no traits of a true friend.  I found myself trying to impress upon this new acquaintance that she not only owed it to herself, but also to the woman, to be honest.  Of course, there is every chance that this woman won’t take kindly to being told that she’s unkind and that it has, in turn, cost her a friend.  But there is a slim chance that the woman will have an “a-ha” moment.  Maybe no one has ever told her because of that “uncomfortable feeling” clause?

I’ve also decided to just tell people how I feel, even if it makes me uncomfortable with putting my own feelings “out there” before they have.  Even running the risk that I may never know how someone feels about me, I at least know that at the end of the day they are clear about my feelings. If they’re too scared or nervous about letting someone else in, they know in no uncertain terms how I feel about them.  I know that I’ve given them every truth, and every chance to know who I am.  I do go to bed those nights knowing I’ve done the right thing for my heart, and that I’ve shed some of the ego that tends to be the downfall of relationships between so many friends and lovers.  



Honesty is part of humanity that people have become afraid of.  Go visit any playground and observe. Kids will walk right up to one another and call each other out without malice. They do it factually, just as they will with a kind word.  If they are ticked that a kid cut in the slide line, they tell them. If they love the other kid, they also tell them this. When did we, as adults, stop doing this? When our ego got in the way, or we realized there could be hurt involved? Women and men do this to one another all the time as adults, myself included. No woman wants to expose her feelings to a man without knowing he feels the same.  But I've started to do it anyway, to swallow that fear and insecurity. And you know what? There's a degree of power that comes along with it. If my honest feelings cause the relationship to move forward without the games, perfect. If my honest feelings go unanswered, I can walk away without wondering if I should have done or said something differently.

We owe it to others and ourselves to go to bed at the end of a day knowing we’ve done what we can, whether that’s having that hard talk or giving back in another way.  Be the first to say I love you, be the first to say I miss you, hopefully be the last to tell someone they’ve been unkind.  Go be fearless, be a friend, be a lover.  

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.
Dalai Lama

My 100 Item Challenge: Moving On. Out with the Old.

Recently, I've had to start thinking seriously about moving. Not because I want to, but because the big mess known as Bank of America has completely raked me unjustly over the coals.  I've moved on from trying to figure out the "why's", you know, why did this happen to me? Why are they allowed to get away with theft on a huge scale? Why is there not ONE person at BOA who wants to do the right thing?  And now I've moved on to acceptance and planning...which means I'm very realistically looking at having to move out of what I considered my dreamhouse.  But on the plus side, I'm looking at things very differently now. What may those things be?



First, I recognize that I don't have a "dream house" any longer. My dream house is where I am with my kids and where my friends and family can gather. That's about it. Sure I have a list of ideal things it would have, like room for my garden and an extra room for friends. But I am also appalled that the most "affordable" house (townhome, actually) is the area is $1700 to rent. Luckily, I can swing that but I have no illusions that most single moms raising two kids alone can do so. And what happens to them? Doesnt seem like the American dream to me, not to mention that's renting and not buying.

Secondly, I recognize that I have way too much crap. I've amassed so much over the years, and now the thought of moving into another home is a daunting task. Although, on the plus side, I have had the chance to see just how flaky I really am. It's kind of hilarious to be able to see phases and transitions I've gone through over the past ten years that I've been moving and collecting. I will say that I realize I have a distinct taste, which can only be called "eclectic". Which is code for a ton of crap with no rhyme, reason or practical use.  A red feather lamp? And bright yellow, 70's era lamp? I have a thing for obnoxious lighting. A Commodore computer? Hmmm... I don't see that coming into use any time soon.

Lastly I wanted to figure out what to do with this stuff. There's no way someone who believes in recycling and reusing the way I do could just toss it. I would have to live with that guilt forever! And then I'd make myself feel better with retail therapy, which is counter productive.

I remembered something I read a few years back, about "100 Things".  It tries to open our eyes to how much we are living as a slave to consumerism. You know, that we've been programmed to buy, buy and buy some more in the pursuit of the American Dream/Happiness. Also known as "Keeping Up with the Joneses".  No thanks! So while I'm not quite ready to reduce down to 100 items for my daily living, I have decided to get rid of 100 items.

Starting tomorrow, I will utilize EBay, Craigslist, my front lawn and donation centers to rid myself of 100 items. I've been walking around the house eyeballing my possessions, silently warning them that they're time may be up.

"Hey you, Tiki Man! What have you done for me lately? Tell me why I should keep you around." He's promised to stop looking so stiff and start taking out the trash. Deal done.



Those books I have been holding on to because I love books enough that I've slept with half of them, literally in my bed?  Sorry pals, you could be sleeping with another woman. I'm freeing you to see other people.

My fat jeans? Out. Of. Here. I never want to see your stretched out, mom jean pockets again.

Wish me, and my possessions, luck. We won't all make it out alive.

In the meantime, I will keep you posted on my progress.  Hopefully, I can make some money and declutter, all while moving towards my own version of a more simple life. I'd love to have a few readers decide to have a 100 item challenge of their own. You don't have to set your number at 100, maybe 50 or even 25. It can't be 5 though, because your husband, two kids and two cats don't count!

Sustaining Spirituality Project: Part Two.

As promised, here is the second “installment” in my Sustaining Spirituality project. It really takes me some time to come up with who to ask to write these c columns. Spirituality isn’t usually something that people wear on their sleeves and it’s generally something that takes someone a while to disclose.  

For this blog post, I turned to my Aunt. I know that she has walked a difficult path in the years since my uncle’s death, and that it has greatly affected her spirit. I also knew that it would be an emotional post for me to read, and it was. I cried through the entire thing, because he was so near and dear to us and I know how much they loved one another.  But as I knew it would be, her journey has been very personal and in the end, put her exactly where she needed to be. And not only has she landed at her own personal truth, but she is helping others at the same time. Truly taking something painful and turning it into hope and love.  I hope you find her observations and honesty as beautiful as I did. 

Without further ado, my Aunt’s journey, in her own words:

 I spent a lot of time thinking about this when you asked me to write something. I didn’t know if I could really talk about what I have been through. I decided to just tell you how I got here from there. I am a born again Christian. I promise not to preach. Because I’m not good at it.  If anyone had spouted Bible verses at me I would have tuned them out. This may not be your truth but it is mine.

Growing up I went to Sunday school and then church, confirmation the whole bit. I hated church, when I got old enough I ditched it. I found it to be cliquey, cold, and not relevant to me in any way. Oddly enough I believed in God and always prayed.

I married the man of my dreams and we had three sons. I had a good marriage and a great life, I was really happy. My only ambition was to be a good wife and mother. I think I was successful at that. Periodically I would ask God to come into my life, but I never felt anything different. Things happen in God’s time not ours. I was not yet ready.

Six years ago my husband was diagnosed with leukemia. After five desperate torturous months, he died. In a very real way, I died with him. Life as I knew it was over forever, my heart was ripped from my body. I could feel nothing but numbness and pain. You wouldn’t think those two emotions would go together, but they do. My Pastor came to the house to make funeral arrangements and my family and I prayed the prayer of salvation (asking Christ to come into your life). I couldn’t feel anything at the time but seven months later when the numbness wore off I had an inner knowing that I was not alone. I had been going to church all along because I knew it would have made Smokey happy. I now felt something had changed in me. I’m not saying all was well, because it wasn’t.  It took me years to make peace with his death. I began to go to Bible study and learn about Christ. The more my faith grows, the more I can see the hand of God in my life.  In the small things and the large as well. I wouldn’t have noticed before. My faith has brought me comfort and the assurance that God will provide for me, and the greatest gift of all is his love for me. The verse I live by is John 3: 16&17, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that whoever believers in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” He did not send his Son into the world to condemn it but to save the world through him. Really think about that for a moment… could you do that? I know I couldn’t.

 I don’t know how anyone can look at nature and not acknowledge the existence of God. Everything has a purpose, a design. We are interconnected with the world around us and with each other. I sometimes spend time just thinking about what a wondrous gift God had given us and all he asks is that we love him and each other.

 I don’t consider myself a religious person. I think of religion as the rules and regulations of the church which may or may not be Christ centered. Instead of being spiritual my goal is to be a spirit filled person. I have a relationship with God. That’s an awesome statement to make. I can go to him at any time and know that he is listening.

 I’m living my life in a new way. I’m giving more of myself to others, whether it is feeding someone at Hospice, giving someone a hug or even telling someone they look nice in that color. Whatever it is, I’m doing my best to brighten someone’s day. In my own way I’m sharing the love of Christ. It has been healing and comforting. I have a long way to go but I’m on the right path.

So, that’s how I got here, and here isn’t so bad.

Follow Up #1 on the Kindness Challenge and Self Checkout Guidelines

Here it is, my first observation of my “Kindness Challenge”. See reader, I didn’t send you off to do this challenge on your own. I have been a participant as well. And oh what I found. I hope that if you have participated, you learned some eye opening lessons or learned that you are, in fact, just as kind as you thought you were. This is not what I learned. Ugh.

This challenge required me to constantly remind myself that the people I was dealing with may “only have until midnight”. This seriously became a chant for me under my breath in a few instances. When I wanted to strangle someone, the chant got a bit louder and more frantic, I noticed. For instance, in Walmart. For some reason, I had the most challenges in Walmart and on the road (this part is NOT surprising if you’ve ever been brave enough to ride with me).



I went to the mountains camping, and the Walmart superstore is a bit of a savior in those parts. Kind of like out West, when you feel like you’ve been driving so far without seeing anything that when that glorious, non descript building rises up on the horizon, you hear angels. You never know when you’ll need Miley Cyrus sweatpants out West. Just saying.

So there I was, getting yelled at. In Walmart. In the self checkout line. Now, I have serious issues with self-checkout etiquette. Not that I don’t understand the etiquette, it’s that half of the population doesn’t. That is, of course, the half that I am NOT on. I don’t quite understand why no one makes a diagram, or a white board to hang over the self checkout area, like they do with football plays. “O” for the player (shopper), “X” for the register and then lines and arrows showing these people where to go. You’re “O” goes to your “X”, and you stay out of my line with an arrow. Got that? Simple. Or so I thought.



So here is this mountain woman, who decided that she doesn’t like that I’ve formed one master line, versus a line at each individual register. I figure the person who has been waiting the longest (me) goes to the next available register. Otherwise it’s luck of the draw. This leads to the following frantic thoughts: Which register is moving the fastest? Those people have a couple of items, but they look like check writers…I’m not picking that line! Uh-oh, that woman is gripping 16,000 coupons. Not going to that register… So, you see, you can never be sure. One master line just makes the most sense. This girl did not agree, but what really grates on me is that instead of saying something directly to me, she instead rants loudly to her boyfriend. Over and over again, with her hysterical voice getting louder with each second that I don’t pay her any attention and clearly was not allowing her to go first. Had she approached me directly, I would have still told her she was wrong but at least it would have been resolved and done. But she proceeded to rant, and then move onto name calling. This is when I began to feel the heat roll up my chest, to my neck, to my face and almost blow the top off of my head. There’s no secret that I don’t have the longest fuse, and my temper has always been a bit of an issue. And for this reason, I am conducting this challenge. So instead of turning and reaming her out in epic fashion, I began to coach myself. And chant crazily to myself. At this point, I think she began to think I was indeed crazier then she is, and let it go.

And I know it’s not something to be proud of, that I didn’t strangle this woman in Walmart. But you know, it’s the small victories like not getting carted off in a police car from a Walmart while your children look on from the car.