I am headed to Las Vegas tomorrow to win big, having just paid big to a plumber and mechanic for worn pipes that backed up my kitchen sink and worn tires that positioned me to skid, crash and burn into 2013 with a glaring "Rejection" sticker on my gleaming windshield. I did my research on Craps and accepted my sister's gracious offer to fund me $100 cash in exchange for a postdated check if my $300 burns a hole in my pocket. This leaves me a cushion (or hot seat) should my luck not kick in until the final stretch. Or, should I lose my shirt and pants and need cabfare from the airport - the more likely sentiment of my practical sister. We will outsmart the "house" and my credit card company with an interest free loan that extends my playing time and hope for a windfall.
My spirits do not dash easily, and my gambling spree is being funded by a short online trading stint this year and what's left of my $1700 investment in Zynga and Facebook stock that I sold for a tax write-off last week. Fueled by deep pockets of optimism, this new opportunity affords pay-off possibilities and palpitations that prompt me to think and live big by taking a chance and throwing the dice.
Feet still planted far from Vegas and its endless indulgence, I am aware of the difference between the hope that keeps me dreaming and likelihood that keeps me grounded. So, I will be cautiously optimistic while giving it my all (a subjective term, which in this case means spending $300 total or $100 a day and wearing a sparkly shirt). I will indulge in valuable time with my family, Blue Men and free drinks at the nickel machine. No matter what happens at the Craps table, I will leave Las Vegas a winner.
- Where might having hope and taking a chance benefit you?
- Where might you better balance hope with likelihood in your life? (i.e., "know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em" - Kenny Rogers)
Dedicated to my Uncle Johnny, who bought Zynga stock but stopped at FaceBook - and who stays "grounded" with tried and true utility stocks. I look forward to playing Craps with you. Happy 75th Birthday, Mom! I love you.
Taking a day off from work to fade into the background, I donned a baseball cap, beat up jeans and smudged glasses to finish my Christmas shopping. At a nearby garden store, two customer service clerks buried in counting inventory failed to peek as I perused the holiday items now 50% off. I sheepishly approached them, apologizing for being "high maintenance" in my quest to price the brightly lit cardinal centerpiece that was one more distraction from my defined list.
"You hardly look like you could be high maintenance," said the clerk, in a backhanded (and not compliment) manner to which I quipped, "In other words, it's obvious I haven't taken a shower today." I self-consciously grabbed my cardinal and rushed to the check-out counter, hoping I didn't have body odor as I made small talk with the attractive, put together lady behind me.
While high maintenance has a visible and entitled presence, low maintenance can seem invisible (except those crumbs on my shirt), undeserving and apathetic, reflecting little need for care and attention (and being waited on!). While fading was my hope for the day, it also came with a reminder to take pride in my presence and a shower.
- How do you want people to respond to you?
- How does your demeanor affect how they may respond? A little entitlement for the right reasons is not a bad thing.
P.S. Dedicated to customer service representatives who still make you feel welcome and my friend, Josh, who said I looked "super hot" at his party last week. While looks aren't everything, I surely want to dispel the glamorous image readers and anyone who saw me today may have of me right now!
Granny Panties
A Victoria's Secret angel doesn't need to clock me over the head with her wings for me to know I am in an underwear rut. My underwear reflects the state of my life, stretched, torn, all too comfortable and often in need of repositioning so others don't see the crack(s). I have gone from flashy thongs to 100% cotton briefs to insulate me from discomfort and promote ventilation like my dust-covered 1950s ceiling fan. This gradual descent into the underwear comfort zone causes alarm only when I fear passing out or getting into an accident that may lead a hot medic to see my undergarments. This, perhaps a flashback to my gradeschool days when a boy called me "carrot" for years after catching a glimpse of my orange spotted drawers.
Today, I was jolted from my underwear undoing when a running partner shared that she wore a garter under her holiday outfit at a party last night. Her face lit up by the mischief, and it was clear that the garter helped her radiate spontaneity and sexiness at the secret under her skirt. Quite the contrary, I thought of my own recent decision to forego shaving my legs, resolved that no-one would be reaching under my dress. My complacence and endorphins overflowing, I decided to take a stand against Granny panties that may be my future. I will take my wings and fly to the pretty underwear store.
My new underwear will give me a quiet edge to strut the runway of life again feeling fun, sexy and carefree. Its impact will be contagious, and I will shave my legs and wear pretty red lipstick. I will feel confident and deliberate. I will hold my head high, knowing that I am fighting back from my rut and feeling pretty while doing it. I will make room in my underwear drawer for new life possibilities.
What does the state of your life - or underwear - say about you?
What can you do to break from your rut?
P.S. It was worth getting out of bed for today's 7-mile run. And, I will look better in my new underwear. Thanks to my fellow runner for today's jogging jolt!
'Tis the season to be giving, and I have been dodging the flashmob of Salvation Army bellringers like a bullet. The other day, three Salvation Santas at separate mall entrances barricaded my thoughtless shopping venture with their worthy cause. Seeing triple red suits and hearing a chorus of pleading bells, I did a driveby and reaffirmed my vow to do all of my shopping online. I pride myself (mistake #1) on being giving but find myself giving out, bombarded by giving campaigns, Giving Day, the Giving Awards, and "Do you want to give a dollar?" at a dollar store, a request by the cashier holding my bargains for guilty ransom and awaiting my shameful eye contact and "No" response to helping sick children.
I grumpily retreat, defeated and depleted. This is icing on the giving cake whose ingredients include working, parenting, and volunteering mixed with high expectations and limited resources. It is overdone and lacking the sweet seasoning that could be this time of year. Scraping myself from the rock bottom of the pan, I decide to rally and recharge for a blue-eyed little girl, with sugarplums dancing in her head (and an Elf that is peering at me from the shelf!).
I change my perspective to the many ways others give to me. I am grateful for my friend who is teaching us to stir-fry while she could be cramming for her exams. I make snickerdoodles for the mailman who keeps me connected with family, friends, and all of the Lands' End catalogs (gosh, why are there so many?). I send a thank you note to a friend whose Christmas plateware gift has fed those I love year after year (most recently red and green sprinkled pancakes for the children next door who are moving!). Their gifts and TLC fill me up and allow me to give back joyfully. I give myself a break too; I am realistic in what I can do.
- Where can you be grateful for what you have been given?
- How can you replenish and give to yourself? This is a gift for others and you.
Dedicated to the Salvation Army Santas who give their time to help those in need. With a clearer perspective, I am grateful that so many Santa suits are filled by so many who care.
