Thursday, March 30, 2017


“You have earned 10,000,000 points!!!”

"Subscribe now and get 2X points with each purchase."

"Use our Rewards Card and get free [Whatever] for a year."

Sound familiar?

You probably get something in snail mail or email every week—if not every day—offering you all kinds of stuff FREE. And if you order $XX in items, you get FREE shipping!

Rewards are only a click away . . . .

My least favorite offer du jour is the one that my communications company wants to “give” me—I can bundle telephone, Internet, and television, for a mere $XX per month.

I get this offer at least every other week, sometimes more often. What they don’t know is: I don’t watch TV. If I want to watch whatever free television stations I can get in my town, I can install a big old antenna on the roof. Had one for years. Didn’t always work. I quit watching. I'm told there are other options, but if I don't want to watch TV, why would I install an antenna?

It isn’t only because I'm a dinosaur.

I used to be a TV watcher. My family got our first television set—black and white, of course—when I was 12. All that summer I watched game shows and drooled over the prizes the contestants won. (Well, I was 12, after all, in those long-ago days.)

But something has happened—both to television broadcasting and to me.

Television programming has ceased to interest me. If I haven’t seen that type of show decades ago in another incarnation, then I’ve seen its brother, sister, and cousin. And didn’t like it then.

The best televised programs for me are on PBS. Many come from the UK. Many are dramatizations of books I’ve read, by authors I like. (And these often become available on DVDs or through the Internet. I can watch, if I like, at any time suitable to me.)

So why should I pay for television service?

I have a set—in fact, I have two, because I watch them in different places in the house. The TVs are needed to play DVDs of the shows and movies I’ve enjoyed and still enjoy. They also play CDs of music I can listen to while I sew, cook, or even read.

The other reason I don’t watch television is about Time. How much time do I have left to live? (Nobody knows the answer to that.) How much time do I have each week to do all the things I enjoy? (The same amount everybody has—168 hours.)

So the question becomes—How do I allocate my 168 hours?

Your answers will be different from mine. But think about that a while. Do you have to give up something when you take on a new project? I do. Every single time someone asks me to try a different activity, go on a trip with them (even a day trip), visit a new place to have lunch—I have to pause and consider. And that means I’ve used up some more of my 168 hours.

There are just no slots available to slip in something new. If I make a place for quiet time--reading, meditating, writing--then the hours are filled.

I’ve given up fussing about the offers I get in the mail. If they’re cardboard, they go in the recycling bin. If they’re not recyclable, I trash them. Yes, that takes time also. But I can multi-task; while I fill the trash bin I can give myself an "atta girl" for rejecting the magnificent offer I've just binned.

As to rewards: Do we really really really need rewards? Do we actually earn all the stuff we’re promised? You can tell I’m from the era of merit—if you were good enough to earn a medal, by golly you got a medal. If you didn’t earn the points, then you didn’t get the reward.
Sometimes, I think the old ways were best. They certainly made us work harder.

And if that’s being a dinosaur, then I am one.

Hello, my name is Judith and I’m a dinosaur.

Thursday, March 23, 2017


Some time last fall I searched for a step counter--the kind you wear on your wrist that counts the number of steps you take in a day.

First mistake: I ordered a brand name wristband because I recognized the name. Mistake, because I didn't know enough about getting it set up--online, mind you, not here in my own home with my own two hands.

Second mistake: Didn't return the danged thing. Kept it, hoping a visit from one of my kids would release me from the first mistake by helping me do the online set-up. We worked with it for the several days of my daughter's visit--both of us getting frustrated in different degrees. When she left I told her to take it with her: get it working, trash it, sell it, give it away--just get it out of my house.

After Christmas, when life began to get back to normal (meaning I got to my usual events like knitting with my friend every Tuesday and Thursday lunchtime), I began to think again about walking at the Y more often (walking having become a casualty of the cold weather and high winds). Talked it over with my knitting friend, and she suggested I get one like her mother's--easy to set up and use, no online syncing required. Sounded just the ticket for this dinosaur.

Forgot to ask what brand it was her mother had--looked all over the local stores for something easy-peasy--finally remembered the all-important question of brand name. Got that information. Not available in my local stores. Drove to a neighboring city--they were out. After I stopped banging my head against the wall, it occurred to my addled brain (not enough oxygen due to not enough walks at the Y) to order the thing online. I do that often--ordering, I mean--and love the convenience of having books, sweatshirts, shoes, and movies arrive at my door even on the least-clement days. Why not a step counter?

I've had the step counter on my arm for the past three days. It counts steps (if my arms are swinging), figures how much of a mile my steps add up to, tells me how many calories I'm burning with each event (walking, sitting, sewing), tells me the total number of calories I burn in a day (sadly, usually less than I'm intaking), and provides me with time and date.

For $9.99. Plus tax. No shipping. (Yes, I got a deal.)

So the chronicle of the step counter is pretty much over. I got it. It works. I'm satisfied.


Well, the business of being addicted to "steps" isn't over. Just a quick glance through my bookshelves shows the following:

31 days to [something or other]
5 quick ways to [whatever]
9 tips for [painting, I think it was]
7 steps on the writer's path

How-to books multiply like coat hangers in dark closets. And every single one of them, even without the telltale 31, 5, 9, or 7 is about the steps that will lead you to success in [pick your subject].

Some sly authors (or maybe their editors) hide their step-counting:
The Art of _____
The Craft of _____
Finding _____

On and on and on.

What is it with our modern life? Do we need--really need--to have our lives laid out in boxes, and lists, and steps to follow?

Or is it something more? Like "guaranteed success"? As I scan those telltale titles, I conclude that each day/way/tip/step carries with it the unspoken promise of success. All you have to do is . . . . 

There's an aroma of snake oil about this.

Could be, though, that if you're unsure about something, reading a book or article will give you enough information to make a decision--shall I try this? Or not?

I  have to confess, I'm not very adventurous. If I want to learn a new skill--say, Portuguese knitting--I'll watch an online tutorial. Or I'll work with someone who knows how to do that, having hands-on teaching and feedback and a chance to say, "Show me that part again."

What would happen if we just . . . well, jumped right in and tried something? Some adventures might be dangerous; we can forget about those. Others imprudent or foolhardy; probably also not a good choice.

But there are some adventures that might tug at the little kernel of creativity inside us and say, "Come on, try it once. If you fail, you can try again. And again. And maybe even again."

We can read all the "Secrets of _____" or "Winning at _____"; but in the end, it comes down to doing.

I'm going to make a stab at writing a memoir--again. That's been on my personal To-Do List for some time. I've learned a few things by reading memoirs already published, and a few more things by authors who teach memoir writing and share their ideas. (Yes, another how-to book.)

And one thing I've learned: a blog is a mini memoir.

How about that?

Thursday, March 16, 2017


Some of us like to feel we've made headway on our daily or weekly or whatever-ly list of Stuff to Do. Experts tell us we need to prioritize. A favorite ploy is to assign a letter to each task on the list of Stuff. "A" means it's high priority. Under "A" you can further prioritize: A-1, A-2, A-3 . . . .

Next would come the "B" list. These aren't as critical as those on the "A" list. The "C" list would be those tasks that might get done someday.

I tried the method outlined above. It was part of the training when our office staff got our planners. By the time I left the presentation, my brain had overloaded with all the methodology.

So, now that I'm in retirement, and to make myself a semblance of order and even, perhaps, notice some headway, I've made my own method.

What experts call the "A" list, I call Right-Now Projects. These are tasks that need to be done very soon, such as prepare a meal so I can eat before 8 PM (Daylight Savings Time is messing with my dinnertime); or get to the bank before it closes, if I want to cash a check; or drive by the Post Office to mail the bill payment so it goes out today instead of tomorrow. Or finish a quilt for a birthday gift.

Every week my exercise classes go to the top of the Right-Now list on the day they're scheduled. If I don't go then, I'll have to wait another week for the class to come around again.

We all have these tasks that nag at us to get done. Or suffer the consequences--which may be light or onerous. I hate late fees, so that's a good motivator for me.

My next list is the Soon List. Yesterday I visited the Walmart in a town 20 miles from where I live because that store still sells fabric that I can use for the baby blankets and pillow cases made by Heart & Hands. That trip has been on my Soon List for several weeks; the only thing keeping me from going Right Now was weather.

Another Soon task is returning books to the library (before they become Right-Now projects). When I do return them, I'll do some other errands at the same time: banking, post office visit.

My "C" list is called the Whenever List. No surprise (is it?) that it includes cleaning out the garage, sorting Stuff for a church garage sale, sorting fabrics and putting them in different groups . . . .

Already, though, the garage cleaning is begging to be done for the garage sale. (The sale is to be held early in June at the home of a family in our church; proceeds go to our food pantry.) Tasks on the Whenever List in March will become Soon by late April. And if I don't get it done until May, it'll be crowding onto Right-Now.

As I wrote about the Stuff-to-Do in my life, I got nudgings about other types of projects.

What about our relationships? Do we keep in touch with family, friends, neighbors, co-workers? Is this a Whenever project in your life? I hate to admit, it's pretty much Soon or Whenever for me.

Social media has done a lot to help folks stay in touch. For some, that's ideal. For me, it's a chore. I find ways to check up and check in that don't require me to listen to my cell phone's demanding beep.

What about community involvement? Need some suggestions? Here are a few, free for the taking:
  • serve at a soup kitchen
  • volunteer at a food pantry
  • volunteer at a hospital or school or library
  • volunteer at an animal shelter
  • offer your services to a youth group--community or church
  • knit/sew for a charity
  • be a driver for folks who no longer drive
These may be Right-Now kinds of projects for you. And if they're not "in perpetuity," remember that your one hour volunteered helps somebody. If you knit one hat or sew one blanket, one more child or adult will be kept warm.

One big benefit of Right-Now-ness--you're in the moment. You're present, right now. 

Time/duration is immaterial. One hour reading to a child in elementary school . . . two hours at a homeless shelter . . . four hours toting Girl Scout cookies from the warehouse to the moms' SUVs . . . half a day at a marathon handing out oranges to runners. . . .

Whatever you give helps someone else. And . . . yourself as well.

Have a blessed week.

Thursday, March 9, 2017


Fifteen-plus years ago I began learning yoga. 

I'd been through 18 months of cardiac rehab (no heart attack or surgery, just stressed and lazy heart muscle), and while the rehab unit offered a variety of activities to get heart rates up and all that jazz, and my health was improving, I grew tired of the same-old, same-old. The nurse in charge of the unit told us about a yoga class we might like to look into. She was herself a yoga practitioner and could attest to the well-being brought about by learning the poses and meditating.

The class was taught at the local YMCA. I visited for one session, then signed up for the class. 

Prior to my signing up, there had been two sessions per evening: one beginning, one intermediate. True to my whole life's journey, by the time I got enrolled there weren't enough students for two classes, so we all started out at the intermediate level. (I've always been thrown in at the deep end. But that's another story.)

In time I learned deep breathing techniques, how to take my body to the edge of pain but not into pain, how to ease muscles by doing opposing moves . . . on and on. Lots to learn. (Always will be.)

Through the years I managed to get to class nearly every week, with only a couple of exceptions--one was the instructor's surgery, another was my annual vacation time.

Later, when I again had heart concerns, I changed to chair yoga--a less vigorous practice, but still touching on the basics of breathing, stretching, and poses, done from a seated position; a few standing poses are often used also.

A few years ago I took a break from yoga and went instead to the tai chi class taught at our senior center. Similar but different--still the deep breathing, stretching, slow movement designed to strengthen our muscles for balance and stamina. But slightly different emphasis. Always the same goal--doing good things for our health.

Not sure what exactly nudged me forward into yoga again (along with the tai chi). A year ago I started going to a friend's class, but that required a 20-mile drive each way, and ended up wearing me out. Driving is not a relaxation for me, especially during iffy weather. I hate giving up Maris's class--she's the most peaceful instructor I've ever known and brings her students along with her to a sense of calm. 

But winter brought cold/windy weather and snowy roads, so I looked at the new offerings at the senior center and discovered a different yoga instructor (my first one has retired), teaching both chair and floor yoga two days a week. One of the days fit into my schedule very well.

Tuesday was my first time with Maddie, a 30-something woman who loves yoga and wants us to love it also. She's enthusiastic, but not in-your-face. She knows we all have "issues" that keep us from lifting our arms or stretching from the shoulder or turning our heads in a certain direction, and she reminds us not to go too far. Pain is not a good thing.

Ten or twelve of us moved and breathed and did the best we could with what our bodies would allow. Maddie is as big as a minute; the rest of us are the size of an hour and a half, but Maddie isn't concerned about that. She wants us to experience the benefits of deep breathing; of movement we may not do every day; and of sitting in silence at the end of the class, letting our bodies and minds enjoy the quiet. (In the best ways, she's like Maris, and I'm thankful for this approach to helping my body.)

I came home from that one-hour session feeling alive and alert after a winter of little activity. My body, mind, and spirit were energized. Oxygen flowed through my veins. I move better, think more clearly, and find my spirit renewed.

Why is it? We know what we should do, but we just don't do it.

I've been needing to get back to yoga for a long time. Why didn't I?

When I miss my early morning walk at the Y, why don't I go the next day for sure?

I recall something like this happened years ago when I was in a weight-loss program. Most of us knew what it meant to binge or go off the rails--we'd shrug and say, "Oh, well, I messed up so I might as well go all the way." And we'd eat ourselves into another 3 or 4 lbs. that would show up at the next weigh-in. 

Maybe it takes longer for some of us to learn our lessons.

At the end of a yoga session, we place our hands in prayer position in front of our hearts. And as we come out of our meditation, we say "Namaste." Which means, the light within me sees the light within you.

May your life be lighter, your mind clearer, and your heart renewed.


Thursday, March 2, 2017


Tuesday I got my taxes done. When I was signing the document authorizing e-filing, I wrote 02-28-17 and said, "Good grief! Two whole months of this year are gone already."

Yesterday was March 1st. The third month of 2017 is in progress. In another 18 days or so the calendar says we'll be at the First Day of Spring. 

Yesterday was also Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten season in many churches. Lent is a penitential season, when we examine our lives and search for ways to reconcile ourselves with God.

The last quilt from the Christmas season is nearing completion. The final tasks are: quilting a design in the outer border; trimming away excess batting and backing; attaching the binding; attaching a label on the back to show who the quilt is for and who made it; and washing it so it will be clean and fresh for its young recipient. Oh, and taking a photo of the quilt so I can remember what it looks like--and to prove I actually did finish it!

Cutting and stitching blankets and pillow cases for the NICU continues this year. Earlier I contacted Laura, the nurse (now retired) who delivers our items to the hospital. We wanted to know if our sewing group should keep on with those projects, and if so, were there any changes they'd like. Laura's response (by text) was one of excitement and encouragement--the nurses in the NICU love the colorful blankets and pillow cases, and so do the parents who visit their little babies at risk. Our group has a good time--sewing is accompanied by coffee and treats and lots of laughter--as well as a productive one. In February we donated 31 items.

A new project--one that can be done in little bits of found time--is knitting or crocheting little red hats for the American Heart Association's "Little Hats, Big Hearts"; hats are for preemies and older babies, and are donated during February, which is Heart Month. We're gearing up for 2018 already!

My personal 50-Book Challenge is out of control! I read 12 books in January and 18 in February. At this rate, I'll reach 50 by Easter. 

Last Sunday I played the church service--I sub when the full-time organist can't be there; a great joy for me.

Even though February was much warmer--some days--than usual for that month,this feels like an in-between time. Not-spring. Not-winter. Too warm some days, too windy on chilly days. If you've read or seen any weather reports recently, you know there've been tornadoes, damaging thunderstorms, flooding, as well as ice and snow disasters. None of our weather has come close to those events, for which we are grateful. Makes me feel guilty for complaining about rain/wind/low temps.

The truth of it is, weather is what it is. As Mark Twain is supposed to have said, "Everybody talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it." As if.

Stray thoughts . . . life goes on, despite taxes, iffy weather, disasters, and our responses to all that. Keep looking for the blessings.

Hope you're looking forward to a good month. Keep thinking Spring. And take care if you're out and about in iffy weather.