Connect The Dots

When I went into work yesterday, I found a children's coloring book on my desk. Things like this sometimes wind up there, since my doctors use toys for play therapy. I opened the book and saw that it was a connect the dots book. I had not seen one of those for years. When I flipped through the pages, it looked like a mess of numbers. I thought that this would be a good exercise for my life coaching classes. I needed to choose a drawing that would have a "lesson" in it but without connecting the dots, I had no idea what the pictures were. I decided to pick page 18, as it is a lucky number. I made a few copies of the page and then decided to connect the dots and see what the picture was. I started off slow, as the numbers were scattered so randomly. At one point I was just going to stop trying as it was getting frustrating. I kept connecting and midway through, it got easier. The end was a breeze. When I got to number 100, I saw the picture. It was a portrait of a person. I could not believe my luck. It could have been a puppy or a soccer ball, but I randomly chose a person. The lesson plan that I will use in my class will be: Your journey in life may look complicated. It will go slow in the beginning and you might want to give up. It may be frustrating. If you stay on course and follow through, the road will get easier until you wind up at your final destination.

Hello?????

Hello??? Are you out there? That is what I feel like saying to people that do not acknowledge what I am saying when I talk to them. I do not know whether they did not hear me, do not know what to answer or are just rude. Maybe I am weird, but if someone talks to me, I engage in the conversation. Even if it is only by saying uh huh. I hate it when I talk and get no response. If I am driving with someone and I am responsible for giving them directions, when I say turn left at the next light.... say OK. Don't sit there silent. If you are mute, I do not know whether or not I will have to scream TURN NOW in the next few seconds, as the tires screech across the crosswalk. If I am working with you and I say, "Did Mr Smith call back", do not act as if I am speaking a foreign language. Answer me. I have tried playing the "no answer game" and found it difficult. It just isn't normal. I think the next time someone does this to me, I will knock on their head and say, "Is anyone in there?"

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy

The television show "Family Guy" has a commercial that I find very funny. The baby, Stewie, wants to get his mother's attention. He starts saying, mom, mom, mum, mim, mimmy ,mummy, lois, mom and continues on and on until she screams, "Whatttttt". He then responds, "Hi". All that he wanted was her attention. I saw this happen in real life at a McDonald's last week. A young mother was sitting in the booth with her two young sons. The boys were chattering to each other about a picture on the wall next to their table. It looked like cracked glass and each child was saying that they did not crack it. They were too small to realize that the picture was an illusion. They thought it was something they had done. They kept saying, "mom, mom, mommy, mommy, mom" and she never looked away from her cell phone. She was either texting someone or playing a word game and was blocking out everything. It took a good 4 minutes until she acknowledged her children's voices. She quickly answered them and went right back to the phone. Good thing no one was choking. And we wonder why America is like it is.

Happy Memorial Day and Thanks!!!

Happy Memorial Day. It is a beautiful day, sunny and bright. The unofficial beginning of summer. There will be barbeques and family gatherings. In the New York area, it is the first weekend for people to go to their summer homes or summer share houses. Fire Island. The Hamptons. The Catskill Mountains. Teachers will start their countdown until the last day of school. We all take our freedom of choice to do these things for granted. We all know what America's foundation is built on but we sometimes forget who built it. Thank you to all of the brave men and women who fought and continue to fight for our country. Our armed forces are now comprised of volunteers who are dedicating their lives to making ours better. They chose to do this job and do not ask for our thanks because doing the job comes from their hearts.

The Carnival

Last night , I had dinner at a restaurant in the next town. After we ate, we heard someone talking on a loudspeaker. We looked towards the back of the parking lot and located the sound. It was a carnival. The traveling kind. With a ferris wheel, roller coaster and the flying swings. There were all types of games of chance. Dart games, ball tossing games, shooting games. The one unmistakable thing was the way the area smelled. It had the scent of a carnival. The unmistakable smell of popcorn, corn dogs, funnel cakes and cotton candy, all rolled into one. Anyone that has ever been to a carnival knows what I am talking about. It is the scent of childhood happiness. The smell that lets your brain know that this is a place to have fun. As we walked around, we saw the cotton candy booth. My eyes lit up like a neon sign. For some reason, lately, I am in love with cotton candy. We stepped up to the booth and ordered 2 large spools. I knew what the price was, but when I asked the woman how much it was, she looked at me, smiled, and said less than what the sign said. I guess she felt that 4 adults craving cotton candy needed a discount. We thanked her and proceeded to attack the cotton candy. It was so fresh and airy and it was devoured in about 4 minutes. Nothing was left but the stickiness of our fingers.

Garage Sale

Today is my annual garage sale. Well, it used to be annual. Somehow in the past few years, I have gotten lazy and decided not to have one. I am lucky that the weather is in my favor. The sun is shining and about 70 degrees. Garage sales are always fun. You get rid of all of your old stuff and make some money. You never know who you will meet at your garage sale. Over the years I have seen the same faces, buying the same things. One woman is a hoarder and I actually would not allow her to purchase unnecessary things at my last sale. It really is true, that one man's garbage is another man's treasure. As each car drives down the block, I wait to see if they will stop and jump out to look at all of the things strewn on my lawn. Half of the fun is the anticipation of not knowing who will buy and who will just talk to you for a half hour and then walk away. Well, it is time to go out and start the sale!

Mind Games

I remember once hearing that comedians always have a pad and pen on their nightstands, next to their bed. When they have a thought in the middle of the night they will jot it down so it is not forgotten. I think I need to do that. Not that I am a comedian but because I write this blog. Last night, as I was tossing and turning in bed, I thought of a great topic for my blog. I repeated the topic in my head, over and over. I told myself that if I kept repeating the thought, I would remember it in the morning. Wrong! I am sitting at my computer and have drawn a total blank as to what the topic was. I do not even remotely have a clue. What other information is floating in my head, pushed out the other thoughts. I am sure that at some point in the day when I am not even trying, the information will pop back into my brain. I am placing a pad and pen in my pocketbook now, so I will be ready for it.

No More Questions

We have all been there. Forced to go to a seminar, or a work class or driver's education course. We have to be there in order to fulfill some sort of certificate or program. We do our best to look alert and pretend to be interested. In the case of the defensive driving course, we need to take the same course every three years. Same videos, same book, in fact, same teacher. We go because we are obligated. Every class has an allotted amount of time, and we do our best to budget our boredom. Every class I have ever been to, has one special type of person. I call them "The Questioner". Everyone in the room is listening to the same information, counting the minutes until the class is dismissed (hopefully early) but this one person needs to delve deeper into it. "Why". "How". "Explain". All that the rest of the class wants to do is bide their time until the break, and then try to stay awake until the finale. I never understood how the questioner does not pick up the vibes of the rest of the class, as we grunt, groan and shoot imaginary daggers at him. I believe in a one question limit. If you need more than that, take private lessons.

Seeing the Future

I love it when people want to do something stupid and say, "Don't worry, nothing will happen". I don't know if they are trying to convince me, or themselves. My answer to that statement is, "If you can see the future, give me tonight's lottery numbers". The best example of this happened about three years ago. My son was driving a loaner car since his car was in the shop for repairs. It was a loaner car and not a rental car. Big difference. He was taking it to work and I told him to drive his other car. He said, "Don't worry, nothing's going to happen". Off he went, in a BMW loaner car. Ten minutes later, my phone rang. It was my son. "Mom, a tree just fell on me as I was driving on the parkway. It totaled the car and is blocking three lanes of traffic". I turned on the local television station and put on the live traffic news feed. There it was. A tree across the roadway and traffic backed up for miles. My son in the roadway, next to a car with a tree through the windshield, roof and radiator. Police backing cars off the highway. Thankfully, he only had a few scratches because the BMW SUV took the impact. We found out that loaner cars carry different insurance than rental cars and it took 6 months to straighten out the mess. From that day on, he no longer says, "Don't worry, nothing will happen".

Farcebook

Facebook is now on the stock exchange. One young man has made billions of dollars from people's insecurities. I do not have a Facebook account. I do not judge others that do. To each his own. I question people's need to publicly write personal information. When my co-workers show me their Facebook entries, I silently "translate". I love when people say they had an awesome or amazing day, every day. Awesome, amazing, awesome, amazing. Number one, learn a new adjective. Number two, come on, no one has so many awesome days in a row. Then there are the "love bugs". I love you. I love you more. I love "u". I love you "2". I have family and children that love me. I do not need to write it on a public wall. I call them on the phone and tell them. Some posts have ulterior motives. "You are the best parents/grandparents in the whole wide world" means I will need you to babysit Saturday night. "My hubby is the bessssssst", means he really isn't so great but maybe if I write it down it will make him seem more desirable. Most posts are repetitive phrases that have no bearing on life. The best part is when your 857 friends add to the post. "So true","I agree". Some find the need to answer the earth shattering post from their mobile phones. Your comment could not wait until you got home? You needed to validate someone's meaningless writing, immediately? Instant Facebook gratification. I know one grandmother of teenagers who has one rule. When we go on a family vacation, no phones are allowed until the end of the day, at bedtime. Don't use family time for social networking. Just enjoy quality time with Grammy and the family. These vacations are priceless. I am not being cynical, but when I go to a restaurant and see four people sitting at a table, each one on their iPhone, it makes me long for TWBF. The World Before Facebook.

The Look of Love

There is a song that says "the look of love, is in your eyes". As long as you love someone, the look will be there. I have that look when I am with my children. Even though they are grown and married, I am still amazed that they are mine. When I am with them, I sometimes catch myself staring. Sometimes, they catch me doing it, and they get annoyed. "Stop staring at me, Mom". I laugh. One day they will know the feeling of joy that a parent gets, when they look at their child. On television, they have special effects that put a twinkling light in a persons eye. To me, that twinkle, is the look of love.

The Ice Man

I went out to dinner last night and after we ate, we decided to go for dessert. There is a shop that is open seasonally and sells ices. Over 50 varieties of ices. The plain water ones and also cream ones. The cream ones are a cross between ices and ice cream. Every flavor is delicious. Some have so many chunks of fruit or candy in them, that you need to chew the ices. There is a line 5 deep at each of the four windows, at any given time. The staff is so quick, that the wait time is less than one minute. The staff is composed of about 7 teenage girls. Not one of them looked older than 16, but it was such a well run operation. During the time I was there, ordering and eating, not one order was prepared wrong. Great statistics. A few years back, in 2008, there was another ices shop, around the corner from my house. The ices were as delicious as the ones I ate last night. The owners were the only thing that left a bad taste in your mouth. In the summer of 2008, the East Coast had a blackout that lasted 3 days. The main boards went down and it took that much time to fix the problem. "Louie" the ices man around the corner, saw his inventory melting away. The entire neighborhood was outside walking around, because no one had air conditioning and somehow a blackout becomes a group bonding event. One man called to "Louie", "you should start to give away all of the ices before they turn to water". Louie responded "I would rather flush it down the toilet, than give it away". Everyone in the parking lot heard that comment. When the lights went back on, and Louie restocked his inventory, no one came to buy it. If you are mean spirited to your customers, they will turn as cold as your ices and your business will close down.

Third Party Involvement

I received my credit card bill the other day and saw that a charge that should have been credited, wasn't. I called the company that provided the service and they did not return my call that day. I decided to be proactive and call Visa to alert them of the pending credit, so when I did not pay the bill they would know I was not delinquent. I was connected to JoMarie who told me that she would make a notation of this, but that I needed an "independent third party", who provided the same type of service, to write a letter on my behalf, saying how they would have handled things instead. What? Why would a third party, who I am not doing business with, take time out of their day and pay an employee to write a letter for a stranger? Were we now in English 101? I tried to explain to JoMarie that the letter would never be written. She then transferred me to Linda, her supervisor. Linda gave me the same story and could not understand that no independent company is going to do what they asked. I then decided to use my Life Coaching skills and treat her like a client. I started to ask her questions, until she came to the same conclusion as I did.:
Me: "Linda, do you think that a letter should be written, by someone that does not know me"?
Linda: "Yes, Ma'am".
Me: "Do you think that you could write a letter for me, to that third party, requesting a letter and explaining why Visa needs them to do this"?
Linda: "No. I can't do that".
Me: "Why"?
Linda: "Because, I work for Visa, and cannot write a letter for someone else".
Me: "Why"?
Linda: "Because it has nothing to do with my job".
Me: "Tell me why".
Linda: "Because there are legal issues involved with putting things in writing, for someone else".
Me: "OK, now you just answered the question as to why I would not be able to get this letter".
Linda: "Ohhhhhh".
At this point she put me on hold, connected into a three way call with her supervisor, and the charge was put on hold, without a letter. I congratulated Linda on passing her first Life Coaching class.

Blue Skies

I was driving to work the other morning and it was such a dreary day. The sky was so gray that it almost looked like night time. The clouds looked so heavy as they slowly drifted across the sky. Then I saw it. A patch of blue sky. Not just blue. Vivid blue. Crisp, clear, bright, pure blue. The perfect summer's day blue. It was just a tiny patch and it quickly passed, but it reminded me that even though the clouds are dark gray, there is always a bright blue sky hiding behind it. What a perfect metaphor for life. The sky cannot stay gray forever. The clouds will eventually drift by. Sometimes it may take longer than others, but if you are patient, the blue sky will come out.

Curly Sue

Some years back, there was a movie titled "Curly Sue". That is me. I am named Susan and I was born with very curly hair. My sister, on the other hand, was born with straight, silky hair. In the 70's, the decade of the hippies, when most girls had long hair with a part in the middle, I had my fluff of curls. As I got older, I was able to make it look more stylish. If I let it grow, it grew more horizontally than vertically. If I sat in the passenger seat of your car, your vision out of the passengers side window was partially blocked. I am now at the age where I get compliments on my "beautiful curly hair". Yesterday, it became a hazard again. My daughter-in-law and I were planting vegetables in her garden, when a large bug buzzed by us. Unfortunately, he flew a bit too close to my curls and got lodged in one of them. I tried to swat it out, but it was stuck. All I heard was the buzzing. I yelled that there was a bug in my head and my daughter-in-law also started to swat at it. She said "I can hear it but I can't see it". Buzz, buzz, swat, swat. It was not leaving. There we were, on the front lawn, beating on my head. It looked like she was attacking me for not planting correctly. After a few minutes the bugs' wings dislodged from the curls and it flew away. We couldn't stop laughing.

High Maintenance

What would you do if someone offered you a machine that needed to be fueled approximately 8 times a day and then, had to have its main chamber emptied about 10 times a day? I would probably decline it. Too much work and too much responsibility. That is how life starts off for humans. I never realized how high maintenance  people are. Breakfast, beverage, lunch, snack, dinner, snack, snack. I added the second snack for good measure, as we all know sometimes one nighttime snack is not enough. That is the fueling part of our machinery. Then comes the cleansing part. Everyone of us knows the feeling of having to find a bathroom in a strange place. Not pleasant. Unfortunately, we have to do it, as our machinery demands it. The only thing worse is when our self cleansing mechanism is on the blink. There is nothing we won't do, to get it back on track. From the moment a child is born, the cycle begins. A high maintenance, well oiled machine.

The Walk

This morning is the "Walk For Nathaniel". My office has planned for this charity walk for over one month. We have the taxi that will take us up to the starting point, on call. We have a lunch of 5 pizzas being donated. I will have the conference room set up. The banners that we made to hold as we walk and hang on our front door, look great. Now, we just need two things. People to join us and no rain. As I look at the sky, it is totally gray. I will be taking my emergency raincoat along for the walk. I will be wearing sneakers to work, something I have never done. Hopefully the rain will stay in the clouds long enough for us to walk 1.5 miles down Northern Boulevard. Getting people to join us has been a problem. I have sent out hundreds of email, but not one response. I have put up dozens of signs, but no response. I have Tweeted and Face Booked, but no response. Ten AM on a Tuesday is not a prime time for anything, so I understand the lack of participation. I hope everything goes well today. It is only 2 hours out of our lives, so if we do it with a smile, we will make it a good two hours.

The Magazine Shuffle

I love to read magazines. The types I like the most, are the ones that mix a bit of news, a bit of human interest and a bit of fashion. I find a magazine that contains only one of those to be boring. No matter which magazine you read, they all have one thing in common. The articles are never in page sequence. They start off on page 3 and 4 and then are "continued" on page 68 and then "continued" on page 96. I dislike flipping pages only to flip again and then to find my way back to the original page, to continue on reading the rest of the magazine. Why does a magazine need to differ from a book. You never see chapter one, on pages 3,4,5 and then "continued" on page 97. You read from page one until the last page. No flipping back and forth. I cannot tell you the number of times I have chosen not to "continue". I am the queen of 1/2 articles and proud of it.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to every mother in the world. I am having a happy day, thanks to Kenneth. Who, may you ask, is Kenneth? He is the computer tech from McAfee who rid my computer of it's virus this morning. I woke up to a black screen and a note saying "I think I broke the computer. Fix it". While I am somewhat of a tech, this was too far gone. Every program was wiped out.  I knew enough to get into "safe mode with networking" so I could make a frantic call to the virus people. I paid the $89.95 and was assured that by the end of the session, I would be virus free. Kenneth told me to give him access into my computer and I did. He entered remotely from India and took control. He told me to go about my day and he will take care of things. I put him on speaker phone and did my cooking and normal Sunday routine. After an hour, Kenneth called me and said to come back to the computer. He was done. All fixed. Back to new. I wish everything in life was that easy. Just sit back and let someone else clean up the mess. Wait.....that is what I do for everyone. Hmm, I guess I am my family's Kenneth.

The Computers Are Down

Four dreaded words. The computers are down. That is enough to ruin anyone's work day. From the moment those words are uttered, the day goes down hill fast. First, you call the computer guy and pray that he answers his phone.Then you beg him to come right away and hope for the best. That is followed by a few hours of sitting around trying to amuse yourself without being able to go online. Most of us have lost the ability to amuse ourselves, as the computer does that for us. When the repairman finally arrives, you are so happy to see him, you almost jump on him. It must feel good to have people welcome you like that. The only other person that receives such a warm welcome is the woman who delivers the payroll checks. He finally fixes the problem and after a test run, the work day can finally begin, even though it is almost half over. Now comes the bad part. You have to finish a full day's work in half a day. Somehow, you do it and things will run smoothly until the next time "the computers go down".

It Wasn't Me

This morning, in my office, we had a computer problem. Any time you upgrade, there will be issues. The dreaded word "incompatible" is bandied around. The definition of "incompatible" is "this is going to cost you money". After the Verizon tech left, I needed to call in my medical software tech. That is when the fun began. There are 5 computers in my office and most people tend to use the same ones. I use two specific ones and have large notes pasted on them that read "NO ONE BUT SUSAN CAN USE THIS COMPUTER OR THE SYSTEM WILL CRASH AND YOU WILL BE RESPONSIBLE TO FIX IT!!!!" Needless to say those computers are treated like lepers. No one even looks at them. Now we get to the other three. Even though people are told they are not to use social networking sites, they still do. That's where the problem began. When my computer tech went into the internal screens, they were clogged up with programs that "run in the background", like thieves in the night. They attach on and track you and slow things up in general. Everyone stood around and watched the tech name the programs and games that everyone swore they never use. Six people stood there chanting "it wasn't me". I know who the offenders are, as they are not smart enough to close down their purchasing/chatting sessions at the end of the night. We cleaned things up (for now) and the rest of the day, my office staff were as quiet as mice.

Checks and Balances

There is no better feeling than balancing your checkbook and having everything equal out. I have it down to a science. The mailman delivers the mail, I open the statement, get out my check register and check off the information. I have the checkbook balanced before the mailman gets back into his truck. The reason why it is so easy, is that I take my time to enter each item as I write the checks. I have seen what some peoples' checkbook registers look like. Some look like abstract art. Numbers and words all over the place. Then, there are the missing check entries. No wonder why they can't figure out their mess. A checkbook is like everything else in life. If you do things right on the front end, it will be easy on the back end.

Third Party Carriers

I got my wireless telephone bill in the mail yesterday. As usual, I scrutinized it, as it is never exactly the same each month. I have four phones on the bill and we just added services, so the bill looked like a free for all. Fees, taxes, partial months. My line should be $17.59, but this month it was $29.52. I immediately called Verizon and spoke to a nice man, who probably wished that he had called in sick that day, after I was done dealing with him. It seems that $9.99 (plus tax, of course) was added on to the bill by a third party carrier. What the heck is a third party carrier and why are you adding their fee onto my bill? It seems that a company called "bid and win" says that I subscribed for their services. I use my phone about 4 minutes a day and text maybe 2 times a month, only to family members. When did this subscription happen? While I was sleeping? Has Shelby been secretly texting to other dogs in the neighborhood? I said I wanted Verizon to remove the charge. The man said "it isn't our charge, it is a third party carrier." I told him that this is fraud and it needs to be removed, otherwise they are condoning fraud on their bills. He kept saying he couldn't remove the charge and I kept saying he had to. During the conversation, he blocked the capability of any third party carrier to ever invade my phone again. After 10 minutes of back and forth about the charge, he finally gave in and removed it. He lost the stamina to deal with me. I never raised my voice or used profanities. I was just so persistent that he lost the will to argue.

TMI

TMI. Too Much Information. I do not know why people feel the need to tell other people more information than they really need to know. This happens to me every day. I am the person that does the new patient screening for my office. I ask the same question to everyone. "Why are you coming here. You only need to tell me in one word. Anxiety. Depression. OCD"? I specifically say "one word". For some reason the flood gates open up and I start to hear the persons entire history. Some of the information is too personal. I try to be polite and stop the conversation by saying that I am in the administration department and I am not a doctor so the information you are telling me should be kept private. It is as if they are deaf. They just keep on going, like they energizer bunny. I keep on repeating that I do not need to know any more, but they go on and on, until they completely finish. By this time, I know too much, but there is no going back. Some information is best left private. Like the old saying goes, "loose lips, sink ships".

It Will Be Alright

I was watching television last night and as I was dozing off to sleep, a commercial for a new movie came on. The last line of the commercial stayed in my head all night. Probably because it made such sense. "Everything will be alright when it is over and if it is not alright then it is not over". That thought ran circles in my head, until I got up this morning. Such a true statement. Sometime we like to rush the outcome of life. We look so forward to the final outcome, that we gloss over all of the important stuff that hides in between. Many events in life just need time to come to a natural conclusion. That conclusion is the right one, even if it takes longer than we wanted for it to occur.

My Second Home

They say that there is no place like home. I totally agree with that, but I have my heart in two homes. One in New York and one in Massachusetts. Each one has a son and daughter. I am specifically not saying "daughter-in-law". I am using a term of love, not law. I came to New England yesterday and will be leaving this morning. Each time I visit, I also see my extended family, my sons' in-laws. Although I only see them a few times a year, it is as if we saw each other yesterday. That comfortable feeling that you only have with those you feel so close to. It is amazing how one day away is enough to recharge my mental battery. I guess that a change of atmosphere is the best conductor. I will be leaving for breakfast in a few minutes and then on to the ride home. My battery will stay charged until I come back in a few months.

Sixth Sense

I am going away overnight. Driving to Massachusetts to see my son. I will be back tomorrow. It was a spur of the moment trip as he was not able to get time off to meet me half way. I did not have the heart to tell Shelby but I think he knows. I have asked my younger son to come to my house and feed and walk him but this morning Shelby was acting strange. He was very clingy. He barely wanted to eat. As I was eating breakfast he sat himself on the chair next to me as if he was saying "I am a big boy and want to go with you". As I am writing this, he is sitting behind me almost suctioned to my back. I snuck the suitcase by him last night but he just must have a sixth sense about things. I think he is having "doggy depression". Once I leave the house, I am sure he will sleep all day until his "brother" comes by to take care of him. Even though he is a dog, he know how to make me feel guilty!

Other People's Charities

I am all for charities. I think that they are so worthwhile and I give so much credit to the people that are involved with them. Most times, people become active in a charity because it has affected a family member or friend. That is just human nature. Very seldom, does a person randomly choose an affiliation. As I have discussed in previous blogs, my workplace is involved in a current charity. The choice was my employers. She wants her staff and the community to jump on board and help, as she sits at home. She is becoming demanding, in a way that I have never seen before. By doing this, she is alienating everyone and now it is to the point that most of us are resenting our involvement. I am being asked to tell people they must walk 4 miles. I am being asked to request that small businesses donate money. Businesses that I know, for a fact, are not doing well. That puts me in such a bad position. Are we supposed to help others while we are hurting. My enthusiasm for this project is waning and it makes me feel bad. Sometimes pushing too much, just pushes people away.

Give and Receive

There is the old saying that it is better to give than to receive. In most cases that is correct. There is one exception. When someone gives you a hard time. There are people in this world that get pleasure out of making other people miserable. They get energy from this. Is it being selfish or just mean? They have a way of getting under your skin to the point that you are going to explode. That is the part they like best. Here is the funny part. Those people, have zero tolerance for anything that does not go their way. The slightest mishap or change in routine, sets them off. They whine and cry and act as if the world has let them down. Grow up! Don't give it, if you can't receive it.

Spring Cleaning

Today is May second. I have no idea where the past few months have gone. It was as if I blinked my eyes in October and opened them up in May. For some reason I have the need to do some Spring cleaning. If I didn't have a conscience, I would call in sick today and rearrange everything in my house. All night I was thinking about where I would put things and what I would throw away. I want to have a garage sale, so that is a third pile. I feel like a hoarder, planning the big "clean out". I have accrued so many papers since I have been teaching and lecturing and they need a stable home. They can no longer hang out on the side of my desk in binder clips. I will need to relax in work today, because tonight there will be a paper frenzy going on in my den. If you hear about a tornado in Nassau county, please disregard it. It will only be me!

The We Of Me

I has happened again. An event in work where we all have to pitch in and make it wonderful. Somehow, "we" has again turned into "me". There are over 20 people in the office and so far, not one person has done anything to make this event special. I have sent the emails. I have called the newspapers. I have made the signs. I have made the posters. It is not that I mind doing this. Quite the contrary. I think this event is important. I feel good that I am contributing. What annoys me, is that no one else, even my boss, who wants the event here, has not done a thing. The event is about a man who is walking from Pennsylvania to Boston, 500 miles, in honor of his son, who committed suicide last year, after suffering with BDD, for years. He is retracing his sons' journey through life. He starts at the hospital his son was born in, then the places where he worked, where he went to school, the doctors where he sought help and the hospitals he was admitted into, during his years of suffering. It is a very poignant walk, so I am helping all that I can. I do not know why others cannot give a bit of their time, to welcome this man as he visits our office and gives a lecture. I guess people have other things to do. Please visit the website WalkingWithNathaniel.org to see the amazing journey.