I have a cold. My sinuses are stuffed and my nose is plugged. This has caused me to breath through my mouth. I hate mouth breathing. Tonight, as I drew air into my mouth, all slack jawed and rumbly, my teeth felt really dry. Then, suddenly, I felt my enamel vibrate in a peculiar way on only one tooth. I believe it is my upper, right bicuspid (or maybe incisor) . . . I'm not quite sure. I'm not a dentist, so my occupation does not depend upon me knowing the scientific term for all of my teeth (thank goodness)! Anyhoooo. My dry tooth, parched by the assault of forced air heat in winter, feels like a tuning fork that someone has smacked with a hammer. Is is so strange.
OK, I'm not paranoid or anything, but . . .
What if the government has planted a secret recording device inside my bicuspid (or incisor)? What if this vibration I'm feeling just happens to be this device sending out a small signal to its intended receiver? What if its some sort of disk, containing launch codes or super sleuthy spy stuff and agents of mayhem are, at this very moment, tracking the signal to get their hands on the intell? They could be at my doorstep right now. Looking inside. Waiting for me to go to bed so they can swoop in and pull out my bicuspid (or incisor) with their sharp tooth pulling implements. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH.
Clearly, I'm watching too much Chuck, Fringe and 24 (i.e. Jack Bauer Power Hour). Crap.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
The Lost Art of Remarkable Dialogue
The Society for Organizational Learning (SoL) conducted research with an end goal of bringing back the lost art of dialogue, of conversation, to the workplace. An outcome of this project was the identification of four dynamics within any group -- "movers, opposers, followers and bystanders." In his book Dialogue and the Art of Thinking Together, William Issacs notes most workplace conversations are characterized by rigid roles: "by all movers, pushing past one another to champion their views; by disabled bystanders, paralyzed at not being able to bring their voice; or by cowed followers, fearful of offering anything but the meekest agreement to the voices of authority." (xix) As I ponder this, I find it rings pretty true in not only the world of work, but also in the realm of everyday life. I know I've probably played each one of these roles at different points in my life and in different situations. Everyone has some kind of agenda and talking to people has surplanted talking with people. Issacs writes, "Dialogue is about a shared inquiry, a way of thinking and reflecting together. It is not something you do to another person. It is something you do with people." (9)
When did we lose the art of dialogue? Where did it go? Theories, of course, run the gambit from a decrease in leisure time, more stressful jobs, higher demands on our time and a rapid fire onslaught of ubber-caffienated media. I'm sure my buddy Bill Issacs will give me some of his own ideas once I get further into his book. I'm only on page 45 for crying out loud! Until then, I have a few theories of my own. I think dialogue is going by the way of the dinosaur due to our collective shorter attention spans, soundbite culture, instant message mindset. These are the easy answers though. The more difficult notion here is we have morphed into a very "I" centric society. We used to care about eachother much more than we do today. Once, we knew our neighbors, built communities, shared our resources and joined together in good times and bad. We opened our homes to others, invited them in, made a pot of coffee and "visited." I think this is less and less common. Today it is about checking our "to do's" off the list, hitting the drive-thru, scheduled play dates and closed networks. We have insulated ourselves and limited our connections to a small number of immediate family and close friends. What about MySpace and Facebook, you ask? Aren't we even MORE connected today than ever before? Well, yes . . . our online networks may have expanded. We have LinkedIn and Twittered and Flickered it all for the world to see. But, I challenge, that this is not really about dialogue. This is about quick messages, 20 second check-ins and downloads en masse. If it's one thing I'm learning from my buddy Issacs it is this: dialogue takes time, intent, effort and true interaction. This is not to say that we can't achieve a solid conversation via the Internet. I think there are ways to do this. What I'm saying is its just not the same and the medium doesn't necessarily lend itself to doing so. We have to work harder at it and be better just to overcome the inherent barriers in the technology. This blog, for instance, does not encourage a real dialogue. I'm sending my thoughts out into the ether and a few of you may respond, but is that dialogue? Nope.
As of late, I've been considering how to be a better listener. Listening, really listening, is one half of the equation needed to improve dialogue. Someone told me the first step to being a better listener is to first seek to understand and then seek to be understood. This is good advice which I need to put into more intentional use. While I work on that, I'll keep reading my dialogue book. I'm also going to put some thought into what it means to be Remarkable (yes, with a capital "R"). Everyone wants to be Remarkable, live a Remarkable life, meet Remarkable people who push us to be even more Remarkable. Right? Is this even possible? Are we reaching too high, shooting too far? What happens if your life is just so-so? Have you failed? Are you lost? By recognizing and celebrating the beauty of all that is unremarkable, are we actually touching the divinely Remarkable around us? I know . . . lots of questions. Some are kinda boring and, others, possibly obtuse. But, I'm throwing it out there for your consideration and feedback. Dialogue, people! I want me some dialogue!!
If you are looking for some Remarkable fodder, check out www.thinkremarkable.com. Good stuff!
What's got you feeling Remarkable today? Or, to contrast that, what is absolutely NOT Remarkable in your world right now? Here's wishing for some deeper, more meaningful, mind expanding, soul enhancing, remarkable dialogue for all of us.
When did we lose the art of dialogue? Where did it go? Theories, of course, run the gambit from a decrease in leisure time, more stressful jobs, higher demands on our time and a rapid fire onslaught of ubber-caffienated media. I'm sure my buddy Bill Issacs will give me some of his own ideas once I get further into his book. I'm only on page 45 for crying out loud! Until then, I have a few theories of my own. I think dialogue is going by the way of the dinosaur due to our collective shorter attention spans, soundbite culture, instant message mindset. These are the easy answers though. The more difficult notion here is we have morphed into a very "I" centric society. We used to care about eachother much more than we do today. Once, we knew our neighbors, built communities, shared our resources and joined together in good times and bad. We opened our homes to others, invited them in, made a pot of coffee and "visited." I think this is less and less common. Today it is about checking our "to do's" off the list, hitting the drive-thru, scheduled play dates and closed networks. We have insulated ourselves and limited our connections to a small number of immediate family and close friends. What about MySpace and Facebook, you ask? Aren't we even MORE connected today than ever before? Well, yes . . . our online networks may have expanded. We have LinkedIn and Twittered and Flickered it all for the world to see. But, I challenge, that this is not really about dialogue. This is about quick messages, 20 second check-ins and downloads en masse. If it's one thing I'm learning from my buddy Issacs it is this: dialogue takes time, intent, effort and true interaction. This is not to say that we can't achieve a solid conversation via the Internet. I think there are ways to do this. What I'm saying is its just not the same and the medium doesn't necessarily lend itself to doing so. We have to work harder at it and be better just to overcome the inherent barriers in the technology. This blog, for instance, does not encourage a real dialogue. I'm sending my thoughts out into the ether and a few of you may respond, but is that dialogue? Nope.
As of late, I've been considering how to be a better listener. Listening, really listening, is one half of the equation needed to improve dialogue. Someone told me the first step to being a better listener is to first seek to understand and then seek to be understood. This is good advice which I need to put into more intentional use. While I work on that, I'll keep reading my dialogue book. I'm also going to put some thought into what it means to be Remarkable (yes, with a capital "R"). Everyone wants to be Remarkable, live a Remarkable life, meet Remarkable people who push us to be even more Remarkable. Right? Is this even possible? Are we reaching too high, shooting too far? What happens if your life is just so-so? Have you failed? Are you lost? By recognizing and celebrating the beauty of all that is unremarkable, are we actually touching the divinely Remarkable around us? I know . . . lots of questions. Some are kinda boring and, others, possibly obtuse. But, I'm throwing it out there for your consideration and feedback. Dialogue, people! I want me some dialogue!!
If you are looking for some Remarkable fodder, check out www.thinkremarkable.com. Good stuff!
What's got you feeling Remarkable today? Or, to contrast that, what is absolutely NOT Remarkable in your world right now? Here's wishing for some deeper, more meaningful, mind expanding, soul enhancing, remarkable dialogue for all of us.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
When Skinny Cows Laugh . . .
All right boys and gals -- as my most recent posts have been somewhat 'health and fitness' focused, I thought I'd keep the topic front and center a little longer.
Prior to taking the full plunge toward my best life (thanks Oprah!), I was tracking my eating patterns and food choices. My titan trainer, Meghan, asked me to do this and show her each week. It was a little scary to revisit my snack and meal choices each and everyday. Slowly a few themes started to come to light. First, I'm not a breakfast person. I know. I know. It's the most important meal of the day. Not sure why I never really got into eating breakfast. Maybe it has something to do with my love of sleep. Given the choice between repeated whacks at the snooze button to grab just 15 more minutes of sleep and, well say, a toasted English muffin, I pick the snoozing almost each and every time. I'm more of a skip the breakfast and grab a latte on the way to work kinda gal. Naughty, I know.
A much more diabolical problem, however, lurked in the dark corners of my food journal. It seems I have a cheese obsession. I loves me some fermented and aged dairy. Can't get enough. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing and I've been challenged to curtail my cheese intake. Luckily I've found a great option to help curb my cravings. Laughing Cow light cheese wedges are THE BEST. Creamy, tangy, and cheese-a-riffic. Grab a couple wedges (just 1.5 Weight Watchers points), a few Reduced Fat Triscuits and you've got yourself a tasty and satisfying treat. And, NO, this is not a paid endorsement.
Continuing on the dairy theme, who doesn't need a little ice cream fix every now and then? Although my typical food sabotage tends to come in the form of fried, crunchy and salty badness, I occasionally have a sweet tooth. When these moments strike, I recommend stocking up your freezer with some Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches. One sandwich is 2 points and you will be hard pressed to distinguish the Skinny Cow from a full fat ice cream treat. Seriously. They are amazing.
Laughing Cow, Skinny Cow . . . lots of cow brands out there. I will stalk the grocery store aisles to find the next cow related items. Perhaps "giddy cow," "bony cow," "emaciated cow?" What about, "I Don't Want To Look Like a Cow?" Who's going to come out with that one?
And, on a related note, if you haven't visited the web site Hungry Girl, you might want to check it out. Great place to find other 'better for you' foods, the latest buzz on low-fat, light products, recipes, etc. Very informative.
Here's a comprehensive list of Hungry Girl's own favorite foods. Enjoy!
Prior to taking the full plunge toward my best life (thanks Oprah!), I was tracking my eating patterns and food choices. My titan trainer, Meghan, asked me to do this and show her each week. It was a little scary to revisit my snack and meal choices each and everyday. Slowly a few themes started to come to light. First, I'm not a breakfast person. I know. I know. It's the most important meal of the day. Not sure why I never really got into eating breakfast. Maybe it has something to do with my love of sleep. Given the choice between repeated whacks at the snooze button to grab just 15 more minutes of sleep and, well say, a toasted English muffin, I pick the snoozing almost each and every time. I'm more of a skip the breakfast and grab a latte on the way to work kinda gal. Naughty, I know.
A much more diabolical problem, however, lurked in the dark corners of my food journal. It seems I have a cheese obsession. I loves me some fermented and aged dairy. Can't get enough. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing and I've been challenged to curtail my cheese intake. Luckily I've found a great option to help curb my cravings. Laughing Cow light cheese wedges are THE BEST. Creamy, tangy, and cheese-a-riffic. Grab a couple wedges (just 1.5 Weight Watchers points), a few Reduced Fat Triscuits and you've got yourself a tasty and satisfying treat. And, NO, this is not a paid endorsement.
Continuing on the dairy theme, who doesn't need a little ice cream fix every now and then? Although my typical food sabotage tends to come in the form of fried, crunchy and salty badness, I occasionally have a sweet tooth. When these moments strike, I recommend stocking up your freezer with some Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches. One sandwich is 2 points and you will be hard pressed to distinguish the Skinny Cow from a full fat ice cream treat. Seriously. They are amazing.
Laughing Cow, Skinny Cow . . . lots of cow brands out there. I will stalk the grocery store aisles to find the next cow related items. Perhaps "giddy cow," "bony cow," "emaciated cow?" What about, "I Don't Want To Look Like a Cow?" Who's going to come out with that one?
And, on a related note, if you haven't visited the web site Hungry Girl, you might want to check it out. Great place to find other 'better for you' foods, the latest buzz on low-fat, light products, recipes, etc. Very informative.
Here's a comprehensive list of Hungry Girl's own favorite foods. Enjoy!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
No More Trying
It's been about a week since my "Bob" post where I was all gung ho and motivated to embrace the year of hope and change. Things have been going well thus far. I've been sticking to the healthy plan. As of today, I've dropped about 3lbs. Not overwhelming progress, but at least it's something. Right?
When it comes to getting healthy, the operative word, for me, seems to be "trying." I keep trying. I try to get my 8 glasses of water in each day. I try to avoid food temptations. I try to eat more vegetables and fruits. I try to get in more activity. I try to make each workout a little harder than the time before. I try not to eat the bag of chips or the ice cream or the cake. Instead, I try to eat the oranges, the yogurt and the carrot sticks. I try. I try. I try.
Confession time: I absolutely HATE the word "trying."
Trying implies a desire to do something. It signifies attempt but not success, full completion or mastery. That sucks. Instead of merely trying, my goal is complete and instant accomplishment which, I realize, is quite foolish. When it comes to this game of living my best life, there will always and forever be "trying." The books, tv shows, podcasts and magazines all tell me it is about the journey and not the destination. In other words, it never ends. Health is a lifestyle one subscribes too for the long haul. It requires constant vigilance and self-monitoring. Tracking, counting, watching, running, lifting, biking, weighing, obsessing. Trying.
Frankly, right now, I am daunted by all of it. Today was a low day. I felt like a shut in all alone in my diet misery. Buried under a pile of work, most of the morning and afternoon was an exercise in trying (there's that damn word again) to claw my way up and out. Sure, I hope for this process to get easier as I begin to form habits. Ideally, I'd like exercise to become a routinized occurance. But, I'm a realist and just know I will always be plagued by stress or boredom which, for me, ignites a desire to eat a pound of smoked gouda, a bag of Doritos or hit the nearest drive-thru. I'm an emotional eater. A fierce longing for comfort foods courses through my veins. Maybe I didn't get enough love growing up. Maybe I swallowed (literally) my pain, loneliness or fears. Maybe my taste buds are hard wired to the pleasure center in my brain causing a chain reaction of endorphins and I'm like a heroin junky continually searching to reclaim that first "high?" I don't know what it is.
My pledge is to deal with the reality, break old patterns and try (dammit, that word again) to forge new coping mechanisms.
Maybe I need to eliminate the word "try" from my vocabulary. No more trying.
From now on, this is about doing, living, embracing my carb junky voodoo chemical brain and loving me enough to keep it in check. Doing is hard work people.
Viva la hope and change!
When it comes to getting healthy, the operative word, for me, seems to be "trying." I keep trying. I try to get my 8 glasses of water in each day. I try to avoid food temptations. I try to eat more vegetables and fruits. I try to get in more activity. I try to make each workout a little harder than the time before. I try not to eat the bag of chips or the ice cream or the cake. Instead, I try to eat the oranges, the yogurt and the carrot sticks. I try. I try. I try.
Confession time: I absolutely HATE the word "trying."
Trying implies a desire to do something. It signifies attempt but not success, full completion or mastery. That sucks. Instead of merely trying, my goal is complete and instant accomplishment which, I realize, is quite foolish. When it comes to this game of living my best life, there will always and forever be "trying." The books, tv shows, podcasts and magazines all tell me it is about the journey and not the destination. In other words, it never ends. Health is a lifestyle one subscribes too for the long haul. It requires constant vigilance and self-monitoring. Tracking, counting, watching, running, lifting, biking, weighing, obsessing. Trying.
Frankly, right now, I am daunted by all of it. Today was a low day. I felt like a shut in all alone in my diet misery. Buried under a pile of work, most of the morning and afternoon was an exercise in trying (there's that damn word again) to claw my way up and out. Sure, I hope for this process to get easier as I begin to form habits. Ideally, I'd like exercise to become a routinized occurance. But, I'm a realist and just know I will always be plagued by stress or boredom which, for me, ignites a desire to eat a pound of smoked gouda, a bag of Doritos or hit the nearest drive-thru. I'm an emotional eater. A fierce longing for comfort foods courses through my veins. Maybe I didn't get enough love growing up. Maybe I swallowed (literally) my pain, loneliness or fears. Maybe my taste buds are hard wired to the pleasure center in my brain causing a chain reaction of endorphins and I'm like a heroin junky continually searching to reclaim that first "high?" I don't know what it is.
My pledge is to deal with the reality, break old patterns and try (dammit, that word again) to forge new coping mechanisms.
Maybe I need to eliminate the word "try" from my vocabulary. No more trying.
From now on, this is about doing, living, embracing my carb junky voodoo chemical brain and loving me enough to keep it in check. Doing is hard work people.
Viva la hope and change!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Ode To Winter
It's cold. Damn cold.
Bitter, bitter, bitter
Snow falling. Nature's blanket covers the promise of Spring.
Sounds of life float frozen above the earth.
Hushed quiet . . . strangled by ice and frost and fear of exposure.
Warmth is a whisper trying to croak, choke, break free.
Do you hear it?
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
. . . .
Nope. Only cold. Damn cold.
Fuck. It's winter.
Bitter, bitter, bitter
Snow falling. Nature's blanket covers the promise of Spring.
Sounds of life float frozen above the earth.
Hushed quiet . . . strangled by ice and frost and fear of exposure.
Warmth is a whisper trying to croak, choke, break free.
Do you hear it?
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
. . . .
Nope. Only cold. Damn cold.
Fuck. It's winter.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Bob Harper Fan
Some days, I just love my job! I experienced such a day last week when Bob Harper visited the Mills. For those of you who are not familiar, Bob is the adorable trainer from NBC's "The Biggest Loser." I'm not talking about Jillian. Nope. She's the hard core, drill sergeant, meanie trainer. Bob is the kind, in touch with his spiritual side, motivatingly sweet trainer. Plus, he's a super duper hottie.
The Mills is a sponsor of this season's Pound for Pound Challenge and Bob arrived to promote the program and the promotion, offer up a little motivating commentary and spread a little cute trainer sunshine.
[Quick aside: Pound for Pound Challenge is a contest where viewers go online and pledge to lose a certain amount of weight. At the end of the season, the actual weight loss is recorded. For every pound lost, the Mills will help donate a pound of food to nationwide food banks. Pretty cool, eh?]
I love me some Bob. He was very uplifting, seems completely genuine in his desire to help people improve their lives and, did I mention, ADORABLE! Moved to action, I hopped online and pledged some pounds. The new year is upon me and, much like Obama, I have declared 2009 the year of hope and change. Oprah's got her 'Best Life Week,' Weight Watchers has their Momentum Plan, the airwaves are filled to the brim with health food and fitness advertising. My gym is overcrowded. So many have pounced on the resolution bandwagon.
As much as I would like to pour my usual cynicism all over this post, I cannot. I'm right there with it. I signed up, got the heart rate monitor for Christmas, started tracking my food points, TIVO'ed the week of Oprah shows so Dr. Oz, Bob Greene, and Suzi Orman could tell me how to get healthy, drop the fat and save my money. I threw out my Reese's Peanut Butter cups, bought a huge bag of lettuce, a pound of blackberries and Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches (2 point yumminess)! I met with my trainer on Thursday and she made me hurt with a brand new program. BTW, I hate the following exercises: V sit ups, Russian Twists, and Arnold Presses
Ladies and gents, it's ON!
P.S. Bob, if you are out there and you are reading this, rock on with your rock hard abs and keep up the inspiration.
The Mills is a sponsor of this season's Pound for Pound Challenge and Bob arrived to promote the program and the promotion, offer up a little motivating commentary and spread a little cute trainer sunshine.
[Quick aside: Pound for Pound Challenge is a contest where viewers go online and pledge to lose a certain amount of weight. At the end of the season, the actual weight loss is recorded. For every pound lost, the Mills will help donate a pound of food to nationwide food banks. Pretty cool, eh?]
I love me some Bob. He was very uplifting, seems completely genuine in his desire to help people improve their lives and, did I mention, ADORABLE! Moved to action, I hopped online and pledged some pounds. The new year is upon me and, much like Obama, I have declared 2009 the year of hope and change. Oprah's got her 'Best Life Week,' Weight Watchers has their Momentum Plan, the airwaves are filled to the brim with health food and fitness advertising. My gym is overcrowded. So many have pounced on the resolution bandwagon.
As much as I would like to pour my usual cynicism all over this post, I cannot. I'm right there with it. I signed up, got the heart rate monitor for Christmas, started tracking my food points, TIVO'ed the week of Oprah shows so Dr. Oz, Bob Greene, and Suzi Orman could tell me how to get healthy, drop the fat and save my money. I threw out my Reese's Peanut Butter cups, bought a huge bag of lettuce, a pound of blackberries and Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches (2 point yumminess)! I met with my trainer on Thursday and she made me hurt with a brand new program. BTW, I hate the following exercises: V sit ups, Russian Twists, and Arnold Presses
Ladies and gents, it's ON!
P.S. Bob, if you are out there and you are reading this, rock on with your rock hard abs and keep up the inspiration.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Broken Down and Disrepaired
Ya know when you buy a new home and things are all shiny and bright with that look and feel of newness? Even though your house may be several years old, it still projects that glow of fresh, "I'm a new home owner" sparkle in your eyes? Then a few years go by and slowly crap starts to fail, things break, paint chips and you are just crossing your fingers and holding your breathe praying nothing else goes wrong causing you to dig deep in your wallet and fork over major bucks . . .
Sigh.
Such is the journey of home ownership.
I bought my little place back in the Fall of 2003 when home values were strong and interest rates were low. Ahhh, the good old days. How I miss them. For the most part, I've truly enjoyed my casa. Over the years, I've been able to make some upgrades and improvements. Put in a hard wood floor in the kitchen and dining area, painted, bought some new kitchen appliances, etc. Life was good. Well, as of late I've come to the conclusion that stuff is breaking down in a hurry. Mind you, my house is not that old. It was built in 1991. However, if you ask my father (who is a stickler for old world craftsmanship and the like), he would promptly tell you "they just don't make things like they used to."
Translation = shit is breaking down.
One of the first things I noticed was my front door leaking cold air. Now Minnesota tends to get a tad nippy in the winter so this became a problem. I could literally see daylight through the crack between my door and the doorframe. Since the thermostat was downstairs, this meant frigid air blew in causing the temperature to drop on the first floor, igniting the furnace on an almost continual basis, making the upstairs incredibly hot and jacking up the $$ on my gas bill. BAD. After several calls, emails, faxes to my townhome association, they finally sent some jack rabbits over to give my door a once over. The solution, it seemed, was weather stripping. Ah haaa. Another week later, the jack rabbits came back and put said weather stripping in. It sealed up the door nicely. Success!!!
Not so much.
The stripping is thick and freezing temps have caused it to stiffen making the door difficult to shut. This, in turn, causes challenges when trying to lock the door and turn the dead bolt. And now I have a door handle problem. WTF!?! I'm crabby.
Next you have the somewhat new refrigerator. A complete end to ice cube production occurred recently. The fridge, it seems, decided to go on strike. There were warning signs. A low, periodic thumping sound heralded an impending doom. Did we heed the warning? Nope. We just kept on with our lives taking for granted an endless supply of perfectly shaped, crystalized nuggets of icy goodness. Suddenly our teas, sodas and juices were sans cube. Sad, sad, day.
Mr. Oz got on the intertubes to get a repair guy over el pronto. One week and $365 later we, once again, have ice cubes. Apparently a little widget-ma-gidget broke in the motor so, ahh, there ya go. Bam. Cube Catastrophe.
Could it get any worse, you ask? Well, let me tell ya. A few months back the washing machine stopped working. A fresh load had been started, the wash cycle was complete, the draining was commencing when, kaplooeee, done. My clothes were left sitting in a soupy bath of yucky laundry water. No drainage people. No drainage. After investigating the apparatus -- let it be known I have absolutely no mechanical prowess whatsoever -- we picked up the bat phone and called in the repair crew. Much like the ice machine, the culprit was a plastic doo-hickey sensor thingy.
Are you seeing a pattern? Not only does crap break, but there also appears to be a commonality in that all problems, in some way, revolve around plastic parts and pieces. Weather stripping = plastic. Refrigerator widget-ma-gidget = plastic. Washing machine doo-hickey sensor thingy = plastic.
Plastic MUST BE ABOLISHED!!! It is evil. It wears out. It cracks, peels, succumbs to blight, pressure and locusts. When experts told me to stop drinking from those plastic water bottles, I should have instantly known that ALL plastic was devil's spawn hell bent on my destruction.
What is next? Will my plastic shampoo bottle fall and crack my bathtub? Will the plastic contact lenses I wear adhere to my eyeballs, scratch my corneas and cause blindness? When will the madness stop????
The U.N. inspectors were looking in the wrong place for those weapons of mass destruction. They should have visited my house and removed ALL the plastic. Plastic, I curse you.
Sigh.
Such is the journey of home ownership.
I bought my little place back in the Fall of 2003 when home values were strong and interest rates were low. Ahhh, the good old days. How I miss them. For the most part, I've truly enjoyed my casa. Over the years, I've been able to make some upgrades and improvements. Put in a hard wood floor in the kitchen and dining area, painted, bought some new kitchen appliances, etc. Life was good. Well, as of late I've come to the conclusion that stuff is breaking down in a hurry. Mind you, my house is not that old. It was built in 1991. However, if you ask my father (who is a stickler for old world craftsmanship and the like), he would promptly tell you "they just don't make things like they used to."
Translation = shit is breaking down.
One of the first things I noticed was my front door leaking cold air. Now Minnesota tends to get a tad nippy in the winter so this became a problem. I could literally see daylight through the crack between my door and the doorframe. Since the thermostat was downstairs, this meant frigid air blew in causing the temperature to drop on the first floor, igniting the furnace on an almost continual basis, making the upstairs incredibly hot and jacking up the $$ on my gas bill. BAD. After several calls, emails, faxes to my townhome association, they finally sent some jack rabbits over to give my door a once over. The solution, it seemed, was weather stripping. Ah haaa. Another week later, the jack rabbits came back and put said weather stripping in. It sealed up the door nicely. Success!!!
Not so much.
The stripping is thick and freezing temps have caused it to stiffen making the door difficult to shut. This, in turn, causes challenges when trying to lock the door and turn the dead bolt. And now I have a door handle problem. WTF!?! I'm crabby.
Next you have the somewhat new refrigerator. A complete end to ice cube production occurred recently. The fridge, it seems, decided to go on strike. There were warning signs. A low, periodic thumping sound heralded an impending doom. Did we heed the warning? Nope. We just kept on with our lives taking for granted an endless supply of perfectly shaped, crystalized nuggets of icy goodness. Suddenly our teas, sodas and juices were sans cube. Sad, sad, day.
Mr. Oz got on the intertubes to get a repair guy over el pronto. One week and $365 later we, once again, have ice cubes. Apparently a little widget-ma-gidget broke in the motor so, ahh, there ya go. Bam. Cube Catastrophe.
Could it get any worse, you ask? Well, let me tell ya. A few months back the washing machine stopped working. A fresh load had been started, the wash cycle was complete, the draining was commencing when, kaplooeee, done. My clothes were left sitting in a soupy bath of yucky laundry water. No drainage people. No drainage. After investigating the apparatus -- let it be known I have absolutely no mechanical prowess whatsoever -- we picked up the bat phone and called in the repair crew. Much like the ice machine, the culprit was a plastic doo-hickey sensor thingy.
Are you seeing a pattern? Not only does crap break, but there also appears to be a commonality in that all problems, in some way, revolve around plastic parts and pieces. Weather stripping = plastic. Refrigerator widget-ma-gidget = plastic. Washing machine doo-hickey sensor thingy = plastic.
Plastic MUST BE ABOLISHED!!! It is evil. It wears out. It cracks, peels, succumbs to blight, pressure and locusts. When experts told me to stop drinking from those plastic water bottles, I should have instantly known that ALL plastic was devil's spawn hell bent on my destruction.
What is next? Will my plastic shampoo bottle fall and crack my bathtub? Will the plastic contact lenses I wear adhere to my eyeballs, scratch my corneas and cause blindness? When will the madness stop????
The U.N. inspectors were looking in the wrong place for those weapons of mass destruction. They should have visited my house and removed ALL the plastic. Plastic, I curse you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)