the 6-word challenge

I have to admit, an NPR story this week has left me pretty inspired. It came as a surprise, as I found myself listening to my usual news chatter and slowly easing my way into the day with a cup of hazelnut coffee, and gliding from room to room in my green moisturizing socks. Morning Edition reported on a story about something called The Race Card Project, in which folks can submit their thoughts on culture and race in the form of six words. It apparently came from an old legend from Hemingway, in which he claimed that any writer worth their salt can tell an interesting story in six words. Hemingway's example was a powerful one - "Baby shoes for sale; never worn."

So I thought I'd take the challenge myself, and apply it to my life right now, today -- as I know it. 

Looking the part, behind senseless curtains.

Call it a work in progress, Hemingway.

Exercising “Sound” Judgment

2013 has had me on somewhat of an inward looking kick, and I’ve felt more determined to understand the stupid, and often irrational workings of my inquisitive mind. When you really stop and consider all the things racing through your brain in any given day, or any given hour for that matter, it’s pretty intense. And in my case, it’s more telling than I’d perhaps liked to face. Let’s take a look-sie.

1:17pm – I found myself pulling into one of my favorite hike/trail running destinations, and snagging the last parking spot in a 15-space lot. I punched my fist upward through the sun-roof in celebration.  I’m the absolute best at getting parking spots!, I thought, feeling mostly great about life.

Hitting the trail and switching-on my trusty podcasters, I realized only one ear bud worked in my headphones. The worst. I scaled the mini-mountain, straining to hear of an apparent endemic sweeping the country called vocal fry - the Valley-girl manner of speaking, which is low, shaky and annoying. I tried to mimic it aloud while passing several hikers with unnecessary walking sticks. I judged them for needing hiking sticks on a trail flat enough for me to run. Whatever. I kept trudging along, arriving upon a group of women all craning their necks upward at the final sliver of the trail leading to the summit. Knowing my eyesight and the ridiculousness of even trying to make out what they were staring at, I breezed by the ladies and made my way directly into their visual trajectory. What if they’ve spotted a wild animal? A javelina, or Mountain Lion? Wouldn’t they alert a fellow hiker? Probably not, since women are vicious and I’m wearing my running tights. They make me seem even skinnier than I am.

1:45pm – On the summit and no wild animals to boot. I looked out at the endless horizon, and the expanse of the city spread all around me. Seemed hazy. I descented carefully at first, and then stretched it out into a jog. Hearing the pitter patter of my footsteps, hikers ahead would scoot to the right to let me pass. I’d exhale some form of a ‘thank you’ as I passed, except at the same group of unnecessary hiking stick folks, who scooted to the side and instead yelled “THANK YOU” to me as I passed. Whether they were mind readers or not, it fueled the duration of my run.

2:00pm – Driving back, my mind felt light, as it does often after a good workout. The weather was warm, and I embraced it by inviting the sun directly into my lap via the sunroof.  Tranquility. The breeze. NPR game shows. And a disgruntled minivan who cut me off! Maintaining my lifelong principle of showing bad drivers the errs of their ways, I sped up alongside the van to find a middle-aged woman with thick brown bangs, and a purposeful scowl. As I grimaced at this lady, she raised her eyebrow back my way, making it clear her conduct was intentional. Fury. Why is that acceptable behavior? Maybe she’s just having a hard day. Maybe she has had a hard YEAR, perhaps just gotten a divorce, or hates her job. At the least, she’s dissatisfied with her bang situation.

2:07 – I was greeted at the grocery store by a throng of little girls.

“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” 

“No thank you. Not for me, ladies. But keep up the good work,” I encouraged.

I made a bee-line for the prosciutto, and I thought about turning down the girl scouts, and that maybe I owed them a bit more explanation. Something letting them know I supported them, but that I didn’t eat sweets. Or, that I was on a diet. Or that I was poor.  Or allergic. None of which came to fruition, since as I approached the deli, my eyes were met by the fierce gaze of a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt. His hood was up. I walked by him, feeling preyed upon, but not losing sight of my prosciutto prize. I snagged the last package - I’m awesome at getting parking spots, and bringing home the bacon! – and breezed back by the creeper. He didn’t bother to conceal his gaze this time, and used his head as an extension of the spectating, making sure to pivot precisely as I passed. I wondered if he was a registered sex offender.

2:17pm – Out the automatic doors, and past the Girl Scouts. Why throughout all these years has this organization not considered branching out beyond cookies? They might consider flowers, or gift cards, or something a bit more universally appealing.

…..

This exercise might cause one to surmise I’m a bit of a narcissistic jerk. Some of it comes with human nature. Much of it seems to be attached to my personality. None of it, I hope, should be irreparable. All of it will be forgotten by the setting of the sun, and the indulgence in red wine.  

Hypocrisy Shypocrisy

The first few days of a week of shenanigans with Marcus

Three years ago, if you’d have asked me about children – standard questions like when they typically start talking, how long they wear diapers, what games are fun at certain ages – I’d have stared blankly at you and mouthed something smartass about why I didn’t want to be the type of person who knew answers to questions like that. I wasn’t interested in kids. Concluded I didn’t want them. See, I’m the youngest of three, so the babysitting didn’t fall to me. And instead of picking up babysitting jobs throughout high school, I decided to wait tables at a local Bavarian Buffet, putting my contact with kids at almost zero and my Czech word knowledge at about six.

Fast forward to today, in which my almost three-year old nephew has flown from Ohio to spend the week with me in Arizona. My knowledge and compassion for him as a child (and at this point, it’s Marcus-specific) has ballooned; my Czech word knowledge, on the other hand, has plateaued.

It shouldn’t be a huge shocker really, that we sometimes do a 180 on our affirmations and views on life from our teen years. But it’s been a pretty dramatic U-turn for my life, most notably in how it’s turned me into somewhat of a hypocrite. This week, it's been not at all uncommon to find me doing the senseless things I always found puzzling about adult behavior when around their children. Like making everything a song and dance. Already today we’ve turned simple statements like “We need some fennel” into the hokey pokey. Or, when adults do things in public places that are just plain disrupting to others – like, chanting and clapping and stomping across the grocery store after normal, every-day achievements are met like not screaming. We did that. Or, and I’ve been horrified to come to terms with this one, when you see yourself asking questions directly to the child that are clearly indicated for somebody else within earshot. We all know this passive aggressive move. You know, the comments like, “Marcus, maybe if you ask the nice lady, she will scoot over and let us by.” I did that too. Today. Several times. 

Or just saying the word “potty.” I’m fighting this one.

Guilty of hypocrisy, and having far too much fun with it.  The dynamic duo strike again. It's going to be a great week. 

Early Days of 2013

Considering coming out of blog hiding. Mostly, just looking at pictures from my weekend adventure. And pondering the journey which stretches expansively in front of me. And trying not to feel overwhelmed.

And trying to keep the important things in perspective.

That, and good wine. #WineThinkingCap

A tale of my month of mayhem (if left to the discretion of a word cloud)

Not sure if I feel good, or bad about some of the larger items on the list...

At the minimum, I've amused myself for the past 15 minutes. #BackToWork