Kinda Chunky
I recently watched Super Size Me. I know - the movie came out about four years ago, but in case you missed last week's Shootin' the Wit, I'm a little behind times. Please excuse my tardiness.
For who haven't yet seen it, this documentary by Morgan Spurlock demonstrates the physical and psychological effect fast food has on a person's body.
Spurlock set a few goals for himself: every meal he ate for 30 days straight had to be from the fast food restaurant, and he had to eat three meals a day. He had to try every item on the menu at least once, and he couldn't consume anything that the restaurant did not sell. He also required himself to "super size" his meal every time he was asked. After 30 days, Spurlock had porked on 25 pounds - a 13% body mass increase - and his BMI rose from 23.2 (healthy) to 27 (overweight). It took him over a year to lose the weight he gained in one month.
The film portrays the fast food industry's influence on people today and tells of alarming statistics on obesity. In case you haven't taken a look around lately, obesity rates are getting... akhem... "bigger".
Soon after viewing the film, I read the latest news about children as young as eight years old being given cholesterol-fighting drugs to avoid future heart problems.
EIGHT? Whoa! Really?
Why aren't we teaching these kids to put down the Pepsi before picking up the Lipitor?
I distinctly remember my father pulling me aside when I was about eight years old and telling me I "wasn't like my siblings," who were all very thin and fit. He told me to picture a kid at school who was "a little bigger" and asked if I wanted to turn out like them. "No," I replied, absolutely humiliated and even more terrified. He encouraged me to stop eating three bowls of ice cream and a pound of taffy every day.
He also urged me to pick a few sports to participate in, which I was more than happy to do. He scolded me on the rare occasion that I would be found flopped on the couch like a dead fish watching television, and I knew better than to be playing Nintendo around the time he came home from work. Nearly every weekend during the winter (unless we had some type of sacred plans), our entire family was out cutting, splitting, and hauling wood through three feet of snow. All day! Sitting at home was not an option. You might say I was whipped into shape.
Harsh? Yes. Helpful? YES! While Dad's "warning" stung a little, and as much as I wanted to be lazy, I'm extremely thankful now.
So why aren't more parents doing this? Instead, parents literally sit back, relax, and watch as their children follow in their own unhealthy footsteps. They grow bigger around the belly together, eat healthy proportions of the wrong kind of foods together, avoid exercise together, and therefore show signs of serious health problems.
Children's doctors recommend children get at least an hour of physical activity a day - which doesn't include finger movement required to play a computer game or sweeping the potato chip crumbs off their lap.
It's not exactly easy to make healthy decisions. Look at your typical fast food menu - salads are $5-$6, and a double cheeseburger is a buck. The average cost per month for a gym membership is approximately $40, depending on your age and/or status. Sadly, we live in a society where healthy decisions actually cost you!
On the contrary, the Blue Cross Blue Shield of Minnesota's "do" campaign gives the perfect illustration for what we should be... well, doing! You don't have to spend $40 a month to run on your gym's treadmill... take the stairs! Work in your garden. Canoe. Walk. Bike. Do. Something. Now! And not just today. Every day!
It's about time pharmaceutical companies take a break and let Americans pick up their own slack. We need to make major adjustments in our lifestyles to reverse this "fattening" trend we've begun to set. We've allowed obesity to become so common that airlines have acknowledged and discussed what they can do about their 'wider' customers. Charge more? Make bigger seats?
As they said in Super Size Me, you're okay to tell someone they're foolish for smoking, because everyone knows it's not healthy. Yet it's not (yet) okay to approach and criticize someone for being overweight, even though they're causing just as much strain on their body. You could start the trend, but watch yourself! If you're picking on them for their weight, I'm guessing they're bigger than you.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 7.25.2008 at 11:08 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Dragging Behind
Do you ever feel like you're falling behind? In what area of your life? Financially? Socially? At work? With school?
I've seriously fallen behind in the technological world - so far behind that people are lapping me. As a kid, I was just beginning to enjoy my new portable cassette player about the time all the 'cool kids' were carrying around their portable CD players. I purchased my first DVD/VHS combo player at the time most people had an extensive collection of DVDs. I still own more movies on VHS than on DVD.
While most people this day in age turn to their computers for music, I turn on the ol' CD player, as I don't own a computer. I'm starting to get used to the decorative 'bunny-ear' antennae propped up my not-so-flat-screen T.V. Actually, I'm not sure I'd even own a T.V. had it not been won at my senior prom. I'm unfamiliar with how an ATM operates, as I don't possess a debit card. With these continual technological advances, I have royally failed to keep up with it all.
It's not that technology is beyond me - generally I can figure it out: When people say they played tennis 'on the Wii,' I'm aware this isn't their lingo for playing doubles in tennis. Unlike my parents, I understand that a 'BlackBerry' doesn't fall under the same category as a 'raspberry.' However, if it did, I'd be much more likely to buy it.
Here's the thing: I don't care. I'm happy stubbornly remaining in the Stone Age. I'm fine with being referred to as 'Cave Woman'. What is upsetting about the situation is that I can only drag so far behind before I'm forced to do a little catching up.
My handy-dandy, painfully annoying cell phone is a perfect example. Do I want one with all the bells and whistles? No. In fact, I'd be happy without one at all! But this world has literally forced me into it. Anyway, I'm on my second phone, and when you're looking for something simple when phone shopping, it's impossible. Did I want a phone with an MP3 player? No. Do I have it? Yes. Did I need a phone that supposedly has faster internet capability? No. Do I have it? Yes. Do I need a camera on my phone? No. Do I have it? Yes. Do I need the mobile video option? No. Do I have it? Yes.
The battery on my phone is sure to begin deteriorating sometime in the next year. Once the phone starts dying ten minutes after being fully charged, I'll start searching for my next constraining device.
When this misfortune approaches, I can already sense the dilemma: I don't want a touch screen. I don't need a full keyboard and I see no purpose in owning a phone that opens eight different ways.
So what are my options? Well, I guarantee that I won't be able to pick out a phone without upgrading to one that offers me more features than I need or want. Maybe I'll just keep it simple and look around for a rotary phone. Any idea where I could find one?
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 7.18.2008 at 1:04 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Donating Blood
Are you a hero? We all have different takes on giving blood. Some people nearly faint at the thought of it while others are earnest about donating every eight weeks.
Recently facing a fear of mine, I signed up to donate. After a rather pleasant first experience, I decided to become a regular blood donor.
My second donation didn't go as smoothly. As the last appointment of the day, it appeared as if this nurse was happy to be finishing up her first day on the job. Rather disorganized, how she conducted the interview made me a little skittish. "Oops! Forgot my gloves." "Hmm... now where did I put that form?" "Gosh, I don't know about that, I better look it up." She seemed a little 'flighty' and rather inexperienced.
Answering the absurd questions, Iwas hopeful that this nurse's involvement in my donation would end after the interview. This woman couldn't possibly be qualified to poke a needle in my arm, could she?
The stars were not in my favor. A poke would have been choice. Unfortunately, I got more of a 'stab.' This nurse seemed to have thought a 'running start' was a good idea. She jabbed the needle into my arm, and immediately called to another nurse for help. "Can you come look at this?"
Can you come look at this?!? I thought, half expecting to pass out and die at that very moment. This metal tool in my arm is feeling rather uncomfortable, and now we are waiting for another nurse to come take a gander?
The other nurse wiggled the needle around, which felt excellent, and eventually got blood to come out. Just as the pain was becoming bearable, the helping nurse informed me that Space Cadet had bruised my arm and it would be best to draw from my other arm. Excellent. At this point, I was ready to fend off both nurses with my empty blood bag and run for the door.
Instead, I remained in the chair. I must have been a bit delirious, because I actually agreed to let the more experienced nurse tap into my second arm. The second attempt was again, much more painful than my first time donating, bringing on a new level of appreciation for the sweetheart who helped me through my first blood donation.
While my blood was being pumped out, the nurse abandoned me. Apparently I had nothing to worry about, as I had at least five different nurses randomly walk by and push buttons on my monitor without saying a word. Yep -- nothing to worry about.
I was extremely relieved to be done. I made sure to stock up on refreshments as payment for the pain they caused me. They lent me a fine point Sharpie for the Sudoku I planned to complete during my donation. Since I couldn't bend either arm, I didn't finish the puzzle. I didn't give the Sharpie back either. You might say I was a little bitter. The rest of my evening was spent sulking on my couch with an ice pack and inflexible arms. At this juncture, I began to resent them for their instruction to avoid alcohol for the evening, as the conditions provided a prime time to down a few brewskies.
I looked like a drug addict the next day, but was overjoyed to be able to fully bend my arms without pain the next morning. Though this was quite a 'draining' experience which re-established my fear of giving blood, I plan to stick to my guns and continue to donate every eight weeks.
Ridiculous, I know. I just spilled my guts about an awful experience that no one should ever have to willingly experience, and I'm going to repeatedly put myself back into that situation? Why, why, WHY!?
There are so many great excuses to keep your sleeves down - fear of needles, you don't want to feel weak afterwards, you're too busy or you've had bad experiences in the past.
However, when you take the time to think through the impact you can have on another life, all these 'troubles' become well worth it. Sacrificing a little comfort in your day in order to save or dramatically affect another person's life seems worth it, doesn't it?
If that's not enough reason to make it worth your time, maybe you're the type that would do it for the free treats you get to mow down when you're finished donating. Whatever your reason, I'm willing to bet the receiver won't care.
Regardless of how you feel about rolling up your sleeve, I would encourage you to sign up to donate. You never know - you might just walk out feeling better than when you went in.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 7.11.2008 at 4:10 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
The Death Clock
If you had the option to know when you're going to die, would you want to know?
I recently discovered a pretty interesting website - www.deathclock.com. Just like the URL suggests, this site provides you with a countdown until - you got it! - your death.
Some basic information is required - your date of birth, sex, BMI, smoking status, and whether you consider yourself sadistic, pessimistic or optimistic. You fill in your five bits, click "Check Your Death Clock," and hope your death day is a ways out. The clock reveals your "Personal Day of Death" and continuously counts down the seconds you have left to live.
Well, looks like my expiration date is Tuesday, April 15, 2081. Oddly enough, when I fill it in again with the same information, I get a different date - every time. Trying to trick the site, I pretended to be a 108-year-old smoking pessimist with a BMI of no less than 45. Proud of my trickery, I clicked "Check Your Death Clock." A warning message popped up - "I'm sorry, but your time has already expired. Have a nice day!" Have a nice day?!? I'm DEAD!
Okay, so the site isn't 100% accurate. You shouldn't feel anxious about your number steadily decreasing there is no need to worry about adding the date to your calendar or hosting a farewell party for yourself before your "date of departure." It should, however, get you thinking about how differently you'd be living if a precise death clock actually existed.
We've all heard what they say about living every day as if it's your last. This is a difficult rule to follow. Most of us live our days cautiously, keeping in mind that decisions made now will affect us for the rest of our lives! We assume this is going to be an extended period of time, but if the rest of your life is only four more days, there's no real point in taking good care of yourself, is there?
This is why it might be nice to have a countdown. While it might cause severe psychological problems, it would have its benefits. You could have a little fun the week preceding your death rather than spending 1/3 of your week working. Personally, I'd like to spend my last week doing things that can't be done in a coffin: Randomly hand out $100 bills, test the "blondes have more fun" theory, skydive, book a last-minute flight to Australia, bet $1,000 on a single hand of blackjack, tell my boss what I really think, ride the world's largest rollercoaster, dance naked in the street, pimp out my Geo, and give away all the money I've worked my entire life to save up.
Basically throw caution to the wind and spend the last 604,800 seconds not caring so much about... well, anything! Which is exactly why a precise death clock doesn't exist (other than it being impossible to create) -- various people doing hazardous, random things to live a little more life before the game is over.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 7.04.2008 at 4:44 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
The Juice
The Juice is loose in Fargo. We read about it in the paper, we saw it on the news, and some of us even sought him out when we were out on the town. A few lucky folk ran into him and posed for a picture with him!
Lucky? Not sure I'd feel "lucky" running into O.J. Simpson at a Fargo bar. It may have been lucky before '94, as this former pro football player, actor and broadcaster had done plenty to gain positive attention from his fans.
But now, fourteen years later, I was a little uneasy when his presence was declared in our town. This seemed to have snuck up unexpectedly - like a stab in the back. However, Fargoans were welcoming him with open arms and flash photography. I would find no amount of comfort or joy in having his arm wrapped around my shoulders while we await our Kodak moment. I'd feel more at ease posing for a picture with an alligator next time Im at the zoo.
Have we erased the memory of the highly-publicized criminal trial that dragged on for an insane amount of time? Do you recall the civil case against Simpson in which he was found liable for willfully and wrongfully causing the deaths of Ron Goldman and Nicole Simpson?
As if that whole fiasco didn't capture enough attention, he continues to write a book: If I Did It: Confessions of the Killer. In this "fictional" book, Simpson told how he hypothetically would have committed the murders. Taking a look at the cover of this book which quickly encountered problems getting published and circulated, the If in the title is rather minuscule, making the title read "I DID IT." Hmmm... it almost sounds like a confession!
The Juice doesn't stop there. Just last year, O.J. was charged with several felonies.
And now, not even one year later, he comes to the area to visit his girlie-friend. And we're excited about it. A celebrity... in FARGO!!
We don't seem to care much about his hazardous history. Criminal record or not, he's still a celebrity, meaning he 'makes the cut' in this North Dakotan town.
Snap out of it, Fargoans! Why are we star struck by a man who has caused such trouble in our society? We should be putting up our guards! Hibernating! Locking ourselves and our children in the basement!
Instead, desperate for a glimpse of anyone famous, we charge up those camera batteries and start looking for Juice in Fargo bars. And so it could be said that some people in the area are so thirsty to experience fame that they turn to O.J. for quenching.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 6.27.2008 at 4:25 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
No checks, no cash, no plastic?
Believe it or not, some people still write checks for everything. In fact, my mother is in this group. Looking through her ledger, you'll see she uses this ancient form of paying for groceries, gas, and all other miscellaneous purchases. Since she writes about 60 checks a week, balancing her checkbook requires about three rolls of adding machine paper. (You think a person who still writes out that many checks owns a calculator? I don't think so!)
We're all familiar with places that no longer accept checks. Existing check-writers probably aren't surprised to hear that checks just don't cut it at certain places. They likely have a few bucks to use as their backup plan.
Well, hopefully. But how many people carry more than a few dollars? Probably not many - it's just not practical anymore. Considering you have to make special 'banking plans' if you're knowingly participating in an event where you'll need cash, you might be caught off guard in a situation where you didn't know cash is a requirement. Embarrassing! Hopefully you have some pretty great (rich) friends with you who have your back in these situations.
This is why we have credit cards. Let's hope in this situation you'd be able to resort to an un-maxed credit card and easily make this purchase. (If this becomes a struggle, you may want to hold tight onto the previously mentioned friends.)
An article titled "Plastic turned away at pumps" printed in The Forum last week told of a West Virginian gas station that is 'banning plastic.' Unfortunately, the credit card interchange fees mixed with the lofty price of gasoline is quickly decreasing the profit for some gas stations.
Article in hand, I shook my head. Not making a profit off of selling gas, huh? Well, when you're a manager of a gas station, this is probably not a good thing.
But banning credit cards? Really? Is taking away America's main form of payment the best solution here? After doing a little research, I learned that at least 60 percent of people fueling up pay at the pump. Granted, I don't fall into this 60%, but I'm pretty certain there is no slot to 'Insert bills, face up here.' There is no drop box for your check. You need the ol' plastic to avoid a trip into the store. By not accepting credit cards, this manager is basically attempting business suicide.
Maybe the servers and bartenders of this world are fine with forking over $75 of the green stuff, but who else carries around a spare $50 or $100 bill for their next gas purchase? Many of us can't even keep more than $20 on us at one time. And we all know filling up that tank of yours is going to cost a bit more than a Jackson - unless, of course, you drive a Geo Metro, which is starting to look like the solution to everything these days.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 6.20.2008 at 4:05 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Wink Wink!
Have you ever really thought about what a wink is? Not so much the actual act of closing one eyelid or Webster's definition- rather the meaning behind the closed lid. How do you take it? You get it from old men, happy ladies, young punks and random friends - some make it a little more awkward than others, but in any case, it's a little weird, isn't it? You're left thinking "what was that? Did they just wink at me?"
The act is rather ambiguous, which could explain why you feel uncomfortable witnessing someone winking in your direction. This simple non-verbal act has the potential to send several different messages - some of which are extreme opposites from each other.
Most often, the little twitch is used as a means to show humor, sarcasm or an inside joke. Fair enough. Not awkward at all. In more unfortunate happenings, you get it from the wrong person at the wrong time under the wrong circumstances - in which case you're left awkwardly pondering the meaning of the gesture.
Let's explore the possible options for the meaning of the wink:
First possible meaning behind the awkward wink:
The subject doesn't trust you. Either you aren't trustworthy or they've got trust issues, but for whatever reason they don't feel comfortable closing both eyes around you, so rather than blink on occasion, they alternate winking eyes. I know - weird, but possible.
Second possible meaning behind the awkward wink:
The subject is interested in you. They likely find you attractive and wouldn't mind getting intimate with you. If interested, you probably find this innocent and charming. Oooh.. How cute! Go ahead and reciprocate the flirting. On the other hand, if the feeling is not mutual, this is by far the most dreaded situation of them all. For all you know, they're thinking all kinds of perverted thoughts. However, at this point, the less you know about what's going on in their head, the better. It may be best to "not notice" it and avoid further eye contact. Put hope in the small chance you're mistaken and their reasoning is more along the lines of the third option...
Third possible meaning behind the awkward wink:
They don't like you. Some people enjoy telling you off without you knowing it. The wink could be loaded with sarcasm and you have no idea. As soon as you turn your back, other gestures are probably being used that you'd never suspect to come from a person who just winked at you.
Fourth possible meaning behind the awkward wink:
The subject could be showing physical vulnerability. They could be struggling with something in their eye. Perhaps their contact is bothering them or they're simply squinting against the sun. No meaning - just trying to rid themselves of a little pain. Try to remember that not everything revolves around you, you self-centered snob. ;) (as in just kidding!)
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 6.13.2008 at 3:33 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
You did WHAT?
Have you ever thought about what kind of stories future generations will be told? When you ponder where this world is headed and where it has been, it feels strange to think about the crazy things we are currently doing that won't even exist in the lives of generations to come.
For an example: telephone booths. There's a good chance everyone has had some type of encounter with a telephone booth - whether to make a call, look up a phone number, or (my favorite) see how many people you can cram in the little box. Now, maybe I've been oblivious to the phone booth realm as of late, but I can't seem to recall the last time one was seen.
This is likely due to our lack of need for privacy. We no longer have issues with discussing personal problems on the phone in public.
Without a doubt, the disappearance of the booths could also be attributed to the popularity of cellular phones. I have a slight hunch that there probably will be no need for these little booths anymore. Keep in mind this is a mere prediction, but I have a very strong instinct. So can you imagine trying to describe this in a number of years to an 8-year-old?
"Well, hunny, we used to have these cell phones - well, we didn't call them cell phones back then, we called them telephones - but anyway, these telephones were mounted on a wall inside a 2x2 little box with an accordion door that people would close behind them. When you inserted quarters into the phone, you were able to make a phone call."
"That's, like, so weird, Granny-ma! Wow, you must be, like ancient. So when you were a kid, did you ever get to see a dinosaur!?" the younger generation will reply, as she waits to receive a package from Ebay she ordered from her phone three minutes prior to her making you feel prehistoric.
What about pouring gas in our cars? Hopefully this will be something we'll all be shaking our heads at in a few years: "Remember way back when we were stupid enough to use gasoline to power our vehicles? Oh, man. What a waste! Yep. We'd just pull up to what we called a gas pump and pour it into a tank that was installed in every vehicle made back then. You'd pay for it, and when we burned it all, we'd go fill up again."
Navigating will likely be different. With the absence of any type of map or atlas - there won't be any family arguments about getting lost or who is at fault, unless your GPS system fails - in which case you'd have OnStar to back you up.
Anyway, it's hard to imagine what else will change over the next couple of decades, but it is fun to think about. If only we knew now what we'll know then...
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 6.06.2008 at 4:35 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Kindesty
Are you an honest person? Do you consider yourself to be kind? Do you claim to be both? Give me a break. Being an honest, kind person is an oxymoron, isn't it?
Hear me out:
SITUATION:
Your friend shows up with the worst haircut you've ever seen.
Kind response: "Oh! Your new style is SOO cute!"
Honest response: "Nice hair. I wasn't aware the mullet was making a comeback."
SITUATION:
Someone graciously cooks you a meal which makes drinking orange juice after brushing your teeth sound appetizing.
Kind Response: "Thanks for dinner. You ought to give me that recipe!"
Honest response: "I'm having a hard time figuring out what I'm eating, let alone choking it down. Where's your garbage?"
SITUATION:
A friend puts herself in a situation which is likely to end in disaster. When the roses wilt, she comes crying to you.
Kind response: "This could happen to anyone; you just had some bad luck. Lets grab a cup of coffee and you can talk about it."
Honest response: "Hell-looow! What did you think was going to happen? Seriously - I saw this coming from miles away. If you only would have listened to me..."
These responses, though quite extreme, show the difficult task of being "honestly kind." If your kindness consists of false statements, it shouldn't even be considered kindness... let's refer to it as forced courtesy.
Obviously, your lack of a backbone makes it impossible to stick your neck out and tell the truth, but why are you forcing courtesy? To protect them? To give them (false) hope? To willingly put yourself through torture every time they prepare your "favorite" meal?
So many of us feel this is a easier than just being honest. After all, honesty requires acknowledgement of a problem. And we all know it's much easier to pretend there is no problem.
Besides, there are always easier, more comfortable ways to avoid the truth - and some of us are pros at doing whatever we need to do to save another person from harm.
It's amazing what pleasers will do to ensure feelings are not hurt. They'll claim to be having fun when bored, exclaim a gleeful "yes!" when they intended to say "no," and can easily hide their anger behind that big smile.
If you're the "kind" type, I suggest you knock it off before you run out of people to please. The stress your body goes through from telling lies takes a toll. A lot of effort is put into pretending - not just inventing the lie, but worrying about being discovered afterwards. Since our bodies are programmed to be sincere, maybe we should give honesty a whirl!
No need to become ruthless. Randomly telling a friend they "finally look decent for a change" isn't being honest, it's rude - not what we're striving for. Rather, when people ask you for a favor, need your opinion or request your advice, tell the truth. They might feel a sting at first, but in the long run, being honest will benefit all parties involved.
Toughen up, Cupcake. You can do it.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 5.30.2008 at 4:24 PM | Comments (1) | Permalink
I don't get it...
I have a gal pal who always teases me about "not getting it." For some cruel reason, she finds humor in my constant state of confusion.
There have been three voicemails I've received from her in the last week that have made me stop and wonder how does this person possibly come up with material to make fun of me for, when she says some of the stuff she says?
Anyone who has been around a block or two of Fargo knows a few things. If you were to ask someone to list a few prominent things in Fargo, you'd likely get some mumble-jumble about the weather, possibly a joke or two the movie (Fargo), area colleges, the zillion restaurants scattered all over the area. If you asked a local about a "toll bridge," they'd know what you were talking about. If you said you were going to "the races," they would know where you were headed. If you said anything about a red hawk, they'd know you weren't talking about a bird.
The first in the three-set series of messages began in a very angry tone. "You'll never believe what just happened to me," she said. "This is nuts! I was driving down 12th Ave, and I came to a bridge with this big box thing in the middle of it," she continued to explain. "IT WAS A TOLL BRIDGE! I had to pay 75 cents to cross the $#%@ bridge!!"
I was amazed that she hadn't heard about or seen it at some point during her four years of residing in Fargo. Shaking my head, I decided not to take the issue up with her later, as I've been oblivious of a thing or two in my day.
Days later, a second message was received, in which her tone was completely different. "GUESS WHAT!?" blared from my receiver. "We're going to a RedHawks game in July! My friend has tickets and wants us to go with! That's going to be so much fun! I can't wait!! [pause] Come to think of it... I don't even know what the RedHawks are... hmmm... Hockey? Well anyway! Save the date!"
Hockey? Really? In JULY!? Trying not to make too much fun of her, I called her back immediately to correct her before she embarrassed herself in front of someone who actually mattered. An email was received soon after in which she asked another question about the "red halks."
The third message revealed she was super pumped to have received an invite to go to "the races" with a couple friends. She said, "I've never been to "the races" before, but always heard about it... kind of like going to "the lake" -- everybody does it, but I don't know where at! [giggle] I think it will be fun!" Smiling, I pictured how puzzled she'd be when she shows up at the track expecting a big NASCAR event, only to see sprint cars zipping around... or better yet - expects cars and sees horses!
Again -- how do you live here for more than one summer and never hear about the races? It's not like there's so much to do in Fargo that you just don't get the time to go watch the races!
Or maybe there is... what am I missing this time?
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 5.23.2008 at 3:30 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Marriage
The statistics are disheartening: fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. Wow! What are we doing wrong? Rather than having a mindset of what used to be a lifelong commitment, perhaps we've adapted a "lets-give-it-a-go" attitude towards marriage.
As a person who has never been married (or come even remotely close), I've been trying to decipher what happy couples have that the miserable duos are missing.
I once read that "marriage to the wrong person is like having a cellmate, not a partner." That's encouraging! So not only do we have a 50/50 shot at having a successful marriage, but of the "successful" marriages, some couples feel they're residing with a cellmate!?
Now, I'm no math major, but the marital equation is not very statistically pleasing. So why do we do this to ourselves? Maybe starting up an F-M WannaBeSingle4Ever Club isn't such a bad idea after all. Care to join?
Still, I'm curious about what we overlook the day we make our vows. What changes years after we say "I do"? Do new problems surface or do existing problems amplify - rather than vanish - over time? Do you suddenly panic at the thought of being together forever? Yep. Forever - just like the words echo in The Sandlot: "FOR. EV. OR... FOOOR....EVVV....OOOOR."
Here's an idea: instead of a lifelong commitment, what would happen if marriages were only a five or ten year contract? Once the agreement expires, you and your partner could decide if you want to renew your contract or part ways. If you're not happy together, you divvy up your stuff, say "adios," and go on your merry way. No lawyers, no "divorced" title, no feelings of failure, and best of all -- no living miserably through a dreaded lifelong commitment with someone you can no longer justify being married to.
Sounds like a great plan to me! However, some might find an ethical issue or two involved with this contract idea. For those of you who don't find humor in how lackadaisical our concept of matrimony has become, I'd like to propose a few ideas of what we need to change. (Note: If you've already had your walk down the aisle, I've got nothing for you.)
Be patient!
Some couples are choosing to marry at a ridiculously young age. Are you really done growing when you're 19? Do you really believe you and your future (permanent) companion don't need room to change in the next few years? '
Why are we in such a rush to tie the knot? Granted, this is all coming from a person who is a "little" commitment shy, but maybe we would have a better chance of getting hitched and staying hitched if we were a bit more patient.
While it's obviously exciting at first, keep in mind you've got the rest of your life to spend with this one person. And with the way some marriages pan out, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to hold off for a few (8-10) years.
Back off!
Perhaps our abundant divorce rate is a result of family or societal pressure to "take the next step" rather than the desire to fully commit ourselves to an everlasting relationship. While pressure from others shouldn't be a factor in this significant decision, it might be hard to think straight when all you can hear is the loud tapping of your impatient mother's foot. If she wanted grandkids so badly, maybe she should have gotten an earlier start!
Never settle
Finally, (and most importantly!) we need to stop settling for "good enough." I'll never forget opening up the wrapper of the only brand of chocolate I enjoy shortly after ending another unsatisfying relationship. The quote inside the foil wrapper reflected back at me: "Never Settle," it read. It's been my motto on relationships ever since.
There's no harm in waiting for someone who you feel privileged to be with, rather than settling for someone you merely think you can put up with forever. And ever. And ever...
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 5.16.2008 at 2:15 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Just Let Go
My dog taught me another life lesson this week.
After deciding to play a game of tennis, someone had the brainstorm to bring a ball retriever with us -- my 1-year-old lab puppy. We loaded her up in the back of -- yes, the Geo -- and were on our way.
The first ball was hit, and she was on it! She scooped it up in her mouth and was instantly prepared to field the next ball. For the next half hour, she chased down every single ball we hit, but never dropped the first ball.
Sure, she was having a riot, but she was being completely worthless. She had an opportunity to retrieve numerous balls -- had she dropped the first one. Instead, she scurried all over the green and red turf simply tiring herself out.
Watching her got me thinking about things we don't let go of in our lives because we are unable or unwilling or possibly too scared or stubborn to let go -- a previous failure, a cutting remark that echoes in the mind, fears, family problems, a past relationship, a disability, a stupid mistake you haven't forgiven yourself for.
Think about all the good opportunities you miss out on when you're wasting time carrying these burdens with you. When you just can't let go, it's hard to move on.
Holding on isn't completely debilitating. After all, the pup was having a blast. However, she was exhausted by the end. When we loaded her back up in the Geo, I took note to exactly how long a dog's tongue is. (How do they fit that whole thing in their mouth anyway?) She had just spent the last half hour running her little tail off, but because she was unwilling to put down her first ball, she made no progress. She had a strong passion for every ball that was flying around the court that day, but stuck with the first one she had.
What do you need to "let go" of? Have you thought about the things your "ball" is holding you back from? Whatever it may be, think seriously about dropping it and moving on.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 5.09.2008 at 10:40 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Lemonade Stands
Even though the current weather has left us feeling used and confused, we can rest assure that summer will make its grand entrance one of these days.
While there are far too many enjoyable things about summer to list, one that really stirs up memories are the lemonade stands. It's not something you see every day -- unless you reside in a neighborhood with overly ambitious kids.
Growing up in a neighborhood filled with kids my age, days were planned around water fights, swing sets and selling lemonade. While mom mixed up a pitcher of lemonade, we'd drag our wood stand out of the basement. We'd round up a Frisbee to store all the change we'd earn that day -- if we didn't drink our entire supply before we had a chance to make some dough. Neighborhood friends would come over and help us with the curb appeal.
That's what it's all about - the curb appeal. The more hopeful-looking kids present, the better. Nobody actually needs a cup of lemonade. No one really wants to guzzle a beverage that was stirred with a child's arm. This is not about lemonade, folks - people stop for the kids! Either because they're too cute to pass up, or because the gloomy face from behind the stand forces you pull your car over and start digging for change.
Due to my upbringing, driving by stands is nearly impossible. I know what the kids are going through -- and believe me, an afternoon spent trying to attract customers can be exhausting.
Keep that in mind when Donald Trump Jr. is charging $2 for his three ounce Dixie cup filled with watered-down lemonade containing a bug and several pieces of grass.
Regardless of the price you pay for a gulp or two of lemonade, pay the stand attendant, visit for a very short amount of time, and move out. After all, a guy in a three-piece suit leaning on the kid's stand is killing the curb appeal.
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 5.02.2008 at 9:00 AM | Comments (1) | Permalink
Dining out with unfamiliar company
We've all been there. Some of us are still there. In fact, maybe we never grow out of the awkward stages of dining with a person you don't know well.
Whether you've scored a date or are simply meeting your boss for lunch, going out to eat with a person you barely know can make for a slightly uneasy time.
Maybe it's just a "girl thing," but we frantically study the menu for something that doesnt scream "I'm a mess!"
Through trial and error, you discover the main dishes to avoid on the first, second -- possibly even third date. If you see nothing wrong with ordering something such as ribs or wings (yum!), you probably aren't concerned with looking like a two-year-old eating birthday cake, and you may want to bring the reading of this column to a halt.
For the rest of us, here are a few dishes you may want to avoid when out to lunch with a boss, out on a date, or when initially meeting someone for a bite.
First, there is the basic option of a burger. For those of us who consume about 1/4 a bottle of ketchup with their hamburgers, you're aware that this decision is a disaster waiting to happen... especially if you're wearing white. If you can't avoid the craving or if there are no better options, cutting it in half works well. Just be sure to have a stack of napkins nearby.
A second option to avoid is sub sandwiches. While these veggie-stuffed sandwiches cannot be beat, you'll be kicking yourself when you realize you can barely fit your hands around it, let alone your mouth.
Third is the salad option. While this is a deliciously healthy idea for a light lunch, something about attempting to fit variously sized chunks of lettuce into your mouth isn't all that glamorous. Eating a salad isn't easy when you're seated directly in front of someone you're supposed to be making conversation with. You'll quickly realize your public salad eating skills are not up to par. Unfortunately, this isn't exactly something you can practice for. Save the salad meal for times out with good friends -- friends that aren't disgusted by the salad dressing smeared all over your chin.
Unless you're okay with your date watching you crane your neck to eat this meal, tacos are another food item to avoid. Most tacos require taking sideways bites to prevent the ingredients from becoming lap decor, so you risk looking like you have regular neck spasms.
Last -- and possibly the worst option -- is any type of long-noodled pasta. Unless you're one of those classy people who can perfectly twirl it around a spoon so it is easily consumable, this might be a good one to avoid. Many of us probably haven't mastered these skills, so it might be a bit awkward when you look up at our dinner date with noodles dangling from your mouth down to the plate you're leaning over. Very attractive! I'm sure your date will easily pick up on your elegance.
Let's face it: this dining stuff is pretty stressful. Going out to eat with people is generally to fulfill a social aspect of your life. While you'd think it would be about the food, it's really not. So whatever you choose from the menu, remember that if you leave the restaurant still hungry, you always have sloppy joes to go home to. And wouldn't it feel great to shove them in while in the privacy of your own home?
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 4.28.2008 at 8:03 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Geo Revisited!
A while back, I wrote about a decision concerning my car. Several comments and suggestions came in from 'Shootin' the Wit' readers. I figured since my readers (or some of you) care, I'd give you an update on the Geo.
A few readers encouraged me to fix up the Geo versus dumping her and upgrading. Every mechanic-minded person I spoke with referred to the Geo as "disposable." They obviously didn't understand my love for her.
My brother, a second-year 'Auto Tech' student ended up fixing the Geo. He and his grease monkey friends tracked down a usable transmission in another Geo resting in an automotive 'bone yard.'
I'm extremely happy with their work, but I have nagging thoughts about the problem reoccurring. Having my transmission go out every couple of months isn't what I'd consider a premium situation.
Despite the occasional doubt and slight lack of trust in the vehicle, there are signs that I made the right decision.
First, on the drive home to get my newly-repaired car, a police officer witnessed me practicing my Jeff Gordon impersonation. Oddly enough, it was the same officer that pulled me over about two years ago, when -- again, I wasn't driving the Geo. Conclusion: she keeps my speed down -- something no other car has been able to help with!
The officer was nice enough to let me off with another warning. Reflecting upon my excessive speed made me realize there's a very minimal chance of getting pulled over in my Geo Metro.
She truly struggles to go much faster than 65. Try it, and her high-pitched whine constantly reminds you that your lead foot is increasing the risk of blowing her up.
Cops don't pay attention to cars like the Geo. I drove around without a front license plate for several years without a peep from law enforcement. During one of those years for which I didn't have a front plate, I (unknowingly) had expired tabs... or should I say an expired tab -- still no police interest.
It seems the cops keep an eye out for sports cars, red cars, nice cars... cars bigger than a golf cart. They are not out to get the Geo Metro drivers of the world. In fact, like most people, they probably feel sorry for us.
Gasoline prices also reflect the repair to be a good decision made. There's something about the Geo that makes pulling up to the pump less painful. As you know, she'll travel 37 miles on a single gallon, if you treat her right.
And when it comes to moving about town on assignments, parking in spots where no other car will fit absolutely makes my day!
Yes, it feels good to be driving the 'pop can' again. Ideally, the Geo will hold out for another 100,000 miles with her (previously) rebuilt engine -- and now the 'transmission transplant.' I'm aware the odds are against Geo and me, but a gal can dream about many happy trails ahead, can't she?
Shootin' the Wit is a weekly column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.
Posted by: Laura Stoneburner on 4.18.2008 at 8:58 AM | Comments (4) | Permalink