Fresh Air and Good Books

I'm in the middle of reading two books. The first one is Phantastes (not to be misread as 'fantasies' which is something my lazy mind's ear would do) by George McDonald, written in 1858. It is about a journey through Fairy Land by our hero, Anodos, who is both unsure and ambivalent about such a place. Within Fairy Land, he meets, and later becomes obsessed with, the Marble Lady. She is closer to myth and an object Anodos craves to be with versus any real type of person. Like a Harry Potter story, there are things in Fairy Land that could only exist in a context of magic, such as bloodthirsty trees and enchanted mirrors. The settings described are creepy, mundane, and gorgeous.

Photo credit: Pargile at Deviantart.com

The second book is October Vagabonds by Richard Le Gallienne, an English poet who wrote this book in 1910. This book, like the first, is about two men who journey on foot to New York when the first fall chill hits the air. I found this story a little harder to fall into at first, but I'm finding a lot of pretty mental descriptions of things they find on their journey through New England. I thoroughly enjoy the thought of a painter and a writer traveling together and cataloging something brilliant about each day. Maybe it's the moon, or a bird, or the way "Dutch Hollow" sounds in your head.

I haven't finished either book, but both make me want to pack up a knapsack (I'm pretty sure we only own duffle and book bags) and hit the road. Recently discovering the website legalnomads.com, where the author describes what it's like living and traveling throughout Asia and the Middle East, has only added fuel to the fire (also, a great comprehensive resource on condiments!). My husband has dubbed this part of my personality as 'adrenaline junkie.'
Cabin fever induces a certain restlessness that is only released by going outdoors or somewhere away from the office slog, unfinished home projects, and to-do lists that can eat away most of the day.
When I finish these books, I'll be a little sad the journey is over. Maybe at that point I'll find another book that can take me away like a Calgon commercial.

Badvertising

I was watching TV at the dentist, trying to distract myself from the, and saw a McDonald's McCafe ad. The folks in the ad went in reverse - from being in a group on the beach to being a group in the parking lot with a lot of uncovered smoothies.

I'd like to point out that if the ad didn't feature models drinking high calorie beverages, carrying open drinks while running, or a group of grown-ass ladies on swings, then I'd believe this product could be something I could have in my own life. Evidently, this is how you would properly run with a beverage (note NO STRAWS). As of now, there's nothing realistic or even interesting about the ad. At least Dairy Queen's Blizzard ad explains all the recipes' inspirations... mmm s'mores. Not for a minute do I suspect that DQ includes fresh marshmallow (whatever that means), but a fast food treat that tastes vaguely like a s'more? I'm in!!

Let's be clear... I'm at the point in my life where ads only draw me in when I'm roused by something (or someone - if Christian Bale called me up for money, I wouldn't be able to resist). But I'm no marketing genius. The problem is that I don't pay attention to many ads, even if marketing gurus think they are tempting me with their products.

In Charles Duhigg's The Power of Habit, it was mentioned that Target in particular was one of those companies that tracks customers' purchases, address, spending habits, and lifestyle choices (see how they figured out when women are pregnant here). Each booklet of coupons sent to my mailbox are individually chosen based on my previous purchases and stereotype. Despite all the tracking however, the little coupons printed fresh from the receipt machine usually end up lining the kitchen trash bag. I have no interest in buying stuff that is off-brand, not necessary (like another pair of jeans), or isn't fresh.

No coupons please.

Recently I was in the Honda dealership waiting room overhearing a conversation between a daughter and what I thought were her parents,

"I ended up getting the blah blah SUV in Alabaster Silver."
Pause, which I assume was the person on the other line asking more questions.
"Yeah, with the zero percent financing, I could sell my old car and have the payment lowered with blah blah interest to less than my old monthly payment."

I vaguely wondered if she was a robot, specifically a parrot robot that could remember all the advertising she was recently bombarded with. "Alabaster silver" was just 'light' silver, right?

No matter. She seemed happy, I suppose.

I guess it's a blessing not to get sucked into normal advertising (I'd probably be much more broke buying all the junk that's constantly hawked at women, alumni, people who own their car, people who eat food, and others...

Some examples:

Fun times for everyone!!!

This catalog (that actually came to my house) could be for anything...

World's largest?? I'm in!!

?!?! I can't even believe it myself?!?!

Selling Cold Water on a Cloudy Day: My Fascination with Making Money

Starting Out

When I was about 11 or 12, I was inspired to start a lemonade stand. The concept was motivated either from a commercial or a show on Nickelodeon. It was intoxicating how one could make a few extra bucks using things laying around the house! All I wanted was to buy the next book in the Goosebumps series, but because I hated babysitting so much, my cash flow at the time wasn't supporting my reading habit. 

This kicked off my lifelong fear of ventriloquism props.

There were two major obstacles: one was we didn't actually have lemons or lemon juice. The second problem was that I didn't drink lemonade, and I had no idea how to make it. Fortunately, these setbacks were much smaller than my non-full bookshelf.

I decided to go with what I knew, and decided to sell plain water instead of lemonade from one of our plastic pitchers. I decided that the shortcomings could be easily remedied with smart marketing, so I created Burma Shave signs that began at the top of the street that closely resembled soda slogans:

Feeling Thirsty?

How about a refreshing drink?

Best water you've tasted all day!

Come on by!

I probably should have rhymed too, in retrospect

One of the neighbors took pity on me, and purchased a largish Dixie cup of ice water from my makeshift stand for a quarter. While certainly not the same profits of babysitting, I was impressed with myself for coming up with this idea, and pulling it off on a 60 degree, cloudy day.

Sometime around 2003, I idly dreamed of being an interior designer. Of course I skipped to the good part where I was making millions designing rooms for people who had incredible amounts of money. Since I had no plan or money, all of my decorating attempts at this point were C- at best. In fact, I vaguely knew what furniture belonged in what room, despite my mom's best efforts at repeatedly ordering Southern Living and other room-project-magazines during the entirety of my life.

Using the term "design" loosely, I implemented great ideas like:
A swing under my loft

Rope lights, a cheaper cousin of the neon sign.

Inside yurts with sheets. Do you remember sheet forts as kids? This is probably a more accurate description.

Spray painted picture frames.

Cat furniture as modern art.

Fake ivy leaves around mirrors... to create that 'fairy garden feeling' anywhere, especially the bathroom, which usually needs a lot of magic.

Money and Happiness

On April 15, I read Penelope Trunk's article about how much money you need to be really happy. While this concept isn't exactly news, it made me think about how much money would really be worth the effort. 

When I lived in Alexandria, I diluted my Suave shampoo with water so I could afford my sports car. The car itself had a high payment per month (over $500/month). The insurance, even though I'm female with no accidents, was $2200 a year! The taxes, on top of all of that, were over $350/six months just to park my car on the street (dents were free). It was an expensive choice. If I had to do it all over again, maybe I would have chosen differently. I was apathetic at the time whether I wanted better clothes or a car with a turbo.*

Who needs fresh hair when you're rockin' this??

It got sort of intense. There was a night where I made pizza out of the leftover veggies in the fridge. When the pizza was done, I bent to pick it out of the oven and it burned my hand. I dropped the pizza and had to choose whether to eat it off the floor or eat almonds for dinner. I didn't have enough money to go to the town's two-star Taco Bell. Feel free to judge, but I chose the almonds, simply because the state of my floor wasn't clean enough to be a plate. My paycheck, thankfully, arrived in my account the next day. 

Hopefully I will never go back to that lifestyle, as I had see-through toilet paper, and could not afford to go to the swanky places in and around the Alexandria area. In fact, every weekend I took a cooler to my friend's house (an hour away!) because groceries were cheaper there. The irony was that I was 20 lbs heavier at the time, because I was so enamored with, and perhaps dependent on, free food (e.g. bagels, ice cream, etc.), and salads are rarely free.

If you only get one trip to the Pizza Hut salad bar, make it count! 

What makes me kind of happy is that there are other articles saying that being a good saver is better than making extra dough. According to me (of course), I'm an excellent saver. I could probably stretch $30K way farther than the average bear because I can prioritize and discard what's unimportant. 

Unlike shampoo, undiluted ketchup is important.

Growing Up (a little)

After my sports car, I bought something easier to insure and equally zen to spend time in for the daily commute. It was everything I could want in a car, especially if I were to spend more than half an hour in it. I started eating better, and spent money to make salads and healthy food at home. Affordability was no longer an issue, but it was still expensive to eat right and make good money decisions. 

I hope if I get to the point of making $700K per year, that my decisions will be whether I get a driver for my car or not... whether I go to the French Riviera or not... whether I decide on the dryer that automatically folds clothes or does taxes. 

* When I was working on Capitol Hill, clothes were a big deal AND you spent a lot of time in your car. At the time, it was hard to find a good balance. Being respected and being comfortable are still in direct conflict, but at least now I'm not making those crazy insurance payments!

Mannequins are Just Like Us

It was 2 pm on Saturday, and The Mister and I were impatiently waiting in the dealership’s queue for someone to help us. All we wanted was an inspection, and what the dealership didn't know was that I've had inspections before that only took 10-15 minutes. Using our laser beam stares (dual-focused for maximum effect) we finally got a nice man’s attention. 

“It’ll be an hour and a half…. at the most,” he quickly added, probably after noting the two holes in the ceiling right above my eyebrows.

“Hmm..”

“Yeah. We’re out.”

We decided that we needed a break. 

A date even, post haste. 

So we went to our favorite watering hole right off I-95, which also happens to be at the mall, because walking around in air conditioned bliss while people watching is one of our favorite things to do.

Once in the mall, “Look at that mannequin! I mean, who even can stand that way in real life?” he said.

I couldn't come up with anything; however, like a trail of breadcrumbs, there were mannequins only a mere stone's throw away that looked like this:

"What is she thinking?"
"Hmm.. probably whether or not she looks good in that dress, or maybe she's just judging all of us humans as we walk by."

Ten paces further, a whole set!

We like standing in line. And bad wigs.

Holy cow! We really hit on something here. There happens to be an entire subculture of mannequins that only differentiated themselves from us only by their plastic skin (and sometimes stares). They are just like us. For example, they have friends:

Oh! That's the same place I shop!!

They have dreams:

Need more pixie dust.

They get married:

Saying yes to the dress.

They get pregnant:

Boy or girl? Oh mannequin, cool!

And have little ones:

They have jobs:

Werkin' it

And today's secret ingredient is... legs!

They put on weight:

Add caption

And work it off:

I just got back from Power Power class.

I never eat doughnuts!

They hang out:

Mannequins photobombing each other.

Does anyone have a quarter? 

They enjoy the upper crust:

Life in plastic, it's fantastic!

They hire their own butlers:

Welcome home, Sir. 

Just like us!! 

Right.

The Novelty of Going Back in Time

I grew up with a book practically attached to my arm, and somehow managed to develop a triangular thumb from keeping paperbacks wedged open hours on end. In a minute of inspiration (with the help of Amazon), I purchased a paperback copy of the Starlight Crystal for $0.01. This was my favorite book in high school, although I was a fan of a lot of Christopher Pike’s work. 

A lot of my high school days looked like this.

Reading his stories made me feel powerful and smart – things that are totally up my alley. I had completely forgotten what this particular story was about, but the cover art reminded me (in the cobwebby part of my brain) that the story affected me in a deep, unchangeable way.

When it arrived, I was disappointed at the thinness of it. I also laughed at myself for the label ‘reader,’ when most of the books I consumed in high school were on the order of a couple hundred pages at most. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix* was 870 pages, 570 pages short of War and Peace.

I should also mention that I've developed a bit of attention deficiency over the past few years. Back when I had an extremely long attention span, I’d spend hours cataloging and rehearsing the lyrics to songs like Jump Around and Slim Shady. Granted, there was a certain level of freedom not owning a car, having access to the internet, or paying bills.  The last time I did nothing for a stretch longer than a few minutes was sometime in 2008, when I was still convinced that I could change the entire world.

The lack of attention has spilled into my reading habit, and I have frequently picked up a book only to stop reading it 30 pages or so in. Perhaps the part of my intellect that thoroughly enjoyed young adult lit refuses to evolve into big-girl stories. There’s also a lot of crap out there that’s not worth reading, or it just takes too long to get into (Tolkien, Tolstoy).

As I opened up the yellowed pages, I expected another childhood memory to be ruined (like the time I watched a Strawberry Shortcake episode or ate a blueberry Pop-Tart - gah!), but my curiosity at that point had reached critical mass. I shouldn't have worried – I inhaled the book in one day.

I probably won’t do the book justice with my description, so here's what I liked about it. It was the first book in ‘my collection’ with a Buddhist flavor; it was a story about space-time, destiny, and discrimination of the real and temporary. Writing the narrative was probably tough, because it's through the lenses of a teenage girl, and also has a striking vision of how galaxies work with the mechanisms of spirituality. When I read this book the first time, it was hard to understand the concepts of permanence because my concept of forever was sort of tiny (after all, I had four friends that made a BFF pact). It also didn't help that my only resource for space-time concepts was contained in a dusty copy of A Brief History of Time on our bookshelf. However, the story of looking for someone special across galaxies and centuries captured my heart, and it was the first story I enjoyed reading on how 'things happen for a reason.' 

I was pumped after reading it again. It meant that I do not have the attention span of a gnat, and I remembered how great it was to enjoy young adult fiction (or philosophical stories about aliens). That said, I'm up for suggestions on what to read next! Please post in the comments.

*I read this entire series as well as the Hunger Games trilogy. Both were good, but Harry's story moved much quicker (and who can argue with the cool factor of magic?).

Beyond Sustenance and Taste, An Ode to Food

A modern-day Boo Radley knothole.

When I was seven, I was privileged to have a snack cabinet, at my grandmother's house, all to myself. Of course there were paper plates and extra cups stored in there, but there were also little treasures of Fig Newtons, and ‘Nabs.’

If you’re not familiar, Nabs are Nabisco products, mainly bags of crackers or chips, and I was obsessed with Fig Newtons because of its weird texture and slight aftertaste. Fig Newtons were my inspiration to be sneaky. How could I get two packs of Fig Newtons without being obvious?

My sister, the stealthier of the two of us, had a weakness for the candy dish.  Watching her remove the glass top was like watching Stella open the safe in the Italian Job. When I opened the dish, inevitably a grownup would yell from the other room, “Get out of the candy!” Dang.

Food, particularly the variety that foodies and doctors warn you about, was always a fun memory to revisit. My grandma would ‘split a Coke,’ with me, or we’d pack up a cooler of snacks for a trip to the pool. My sister and I first learned how to negotiate with Kellogg’s cereal variety packs. We took extreme care to ensure if someone was stuck with the Frosted Mini Wheats, then they got dibs on the Frosted Flakes.  

I was a pretty happy kid, but there came a time when I needed to be out of the house every so often. Fortunately, food was also a way to get out of the house, and I was very open to even the smallest field trips. Bubba’s, a soft serve joint, was just half a mile away, and happened to serve a mean banana milk shake. We also filled after-class time with Cappuccino Blasts and Rax’s curly fries.

What were we thinking when we made a Wendy’s frosty run? It wasn't important, and most likely, it was just an excuse to drive “the Strip” on Friday night. Or mess with the Wendy’s workers by driving the car backwards through the Drive-Thru. Food represented a context; it was an entity that coincided with an event, effectively creating a snapshot of time. The BBQ sandwich special at Short Sugars* was a small reprieve from high school classes (and it didn't hurt that it was $2.63 for the sandwich, chips, and a sweet tea). Joe and Mimma’s was the ‘fancy’ Italian restaurant that denoted straight A’s or a birthday. Auntie Anne’s was more about the quest for acquiring a limeade versus whether it was made of fresh juice or not (although I frequently became hypnotized by both the operation of the juicer and fresh-pretzel making while waiting to pay).

There was always a dose of people watching thrown in. My husband and I are masters of noticing oddities at restaurants, and our specific series of eye movements are undetectable, except from real spies. “Do you see that older guy over there?” one would say.

“Yeah, what about?”

“He’s got a jar of peanut butter at the table.”

Insert subtle, non-directional glance. Report verified.

“Who does that?”

“Maybe he just likes peanut butter.”**

“Sure, but when you decide to bring in a whole jar of something to an establishment, is it a quick decision or have you been thinking about it for a while?”

And so on. It is a delight to dine at both expensive and low-rent establishments. Weird people go to both types, though there’s a higher density of them at places like Waffle House after 2 am.

Now that I live in the county, my going-out options are severely limited. To keep the food front fresh, I take up experimenting in the kitchen and sharing with my husband, friends and coworkers. Sometimes it goes well, “Liz, you've made the most perfect dessert (angel food cupcakes with butter cream icing). The cake part collapses into itself and all you’re left with is a mouthful of icing.”

What the perfect dessert looks like.

This was after I had scrapped a whole bowl of homemade cookie dough that refused to rise en oven. I've also created the seven-pound pumpkin cheesecake, modifying and combining a couple of internet recipes on the subject.*** It is both a blessing and a curse being an everlasting gobstopper of a cake, but if you really want to show someone who likes cheesecake that they are special, it does the job. 

Honestly, it’s not as fun making things in the kitchen as it is sharing food, although any time spent perusing the Food Network would lead you to believe otherwise. As such, I've transformed our kitchen into a sort of laboratory, outfitted with a proper snack cabinet for our guests.

And cats, evidently.

*Didja know you can buy individual hush puppies here? Yes. They are 25 cents.

**This is a real conversation we had in a local diner.

*** I used these recipes for the biggest cheesecake ever:

Crust: http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/deluxe-pumpkin-cheesecake

Filling: http://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/pumpkin_cheesecake/

The Psychology of Not Doing Things

How many things can we get done today that have nothing to do with what "should" be done?

Where does this so-called "should" come from? Why do we end up not doing things that have an obvious logical benefit? There's something small that makes these tasks impossible, and I suspect has more to do with priorities over lack of motivation, personal accountability, or passive barriers. The barriers are the symptom of a value conflict, which I most frequently encounter with my to-do lists.

I have lists from six months ago where stuff still hasn't gotten done, but the consequences of not getting those things done clearly aren't strong enough for me to make them a priority. In many cases, I'll just let these things slide for days, weeks, months. Spoiler alert: I haven't washed my car in a year. My favorite things to NOT do are:

Getting my car cleaned or clothes tailored

Updating my passport

Responding to emails that I don't want to

Cleaning the bathroom

Filing away papers

I know I should just file away the tax papers in a separate folder, so tax season won't be a struggle. But that damn folder is so elusive (and upstairs), so I just don't feel like making the extra effort to put the paperwork away... especially because it won't make taxes any easier or more fun. 

For the most part, these things get done eventually. Should I have spent time on these things over other things? No. But a pile of papers on the counter or a stack of ill fitting pants give me a slight ping. Over time, I've realized that most of the things on my to-do lists probably aren't that crucial anyway. Why would I spend my waking hours on lots of unimportant tasks?

My wish for today is for everyone take one thing on their to-do list and  NOT do it.