In which i discuss my mothering methods

I love my kids. I just want to go on record with that statement because I think since I make a lot of sarcastic posts about them, some people aren’t aware of how much I really love them. Having said that, it doesn’t mean that I don’t think that my girls aren’t bitches sometimes. They are. One of the things I miss about having a living parent is the ability to discuss my own personal history. When I think back on my childhood and especially my teenage years, I’m left with lots of unanswered questions. What was I like? How did my parents put up with me? What did they do when I was so obviously miserable and in pain? After all, watching your kid hurting is one of the most difficult things I have ever experienced. These are questions I have that I will never be able to properly answer. I can only surmise what they were thinking and therefore, try to adjust my parenting methods accordingly.




For example, when I was 19 I was miserable, angry and overweight. I had just finished my freshman year at Johns Hopkins University and had an apartment so I decided to live in Baltimore for the summer. The plan was to lifeguard with my best friend, who was also my roommate, and live in our brand new apartment. When I use the words “brand new,” I mean that it was brand new to us but it was actually one step removed from a slum. So we had planned on an amazing summer. I was really looking forward to it. Freshman year had been rough for me because I did terrible in school and my lifelong dream of being a doctor was looking bleak.



As summers went, this one was terrible. I lifeguarded at the club and the other lifeguards were okay but my manager was an incompetent asshole. I didn’t enjoy the job at all and my best friend somehow managed to work completely opposite hours than I did and we never saw each other. I was, in a word, miserable. So, I ate … and ate…and sulked…and ate some more. Of course, I gained a lot of weight and became even more miserable and eventually managed to get fired from my job for insulting the manager. (this is a common theme throughout my life but this was actually the FIRST time I got fired, but not the last). By the end of July, I was back home in North Carolina since I had no job in Baltimore anymore.



I was home for six weeks. I was horrible to be around and no doubt, terrible to my parents. In fact, my mother got such bad headaches that they did a CT Scan to see if she had a brain tumor. She didn’t. It was just the stress of having me around. I was such a pain in the ass that they thought my mom had a BRAIN TUMOR! My parents even took the entire family on a trip out West and I complained the entire way. Talk about being an ungrateful bitch! That was me.



So that’s the set up. When Keely was in first grade her teacher told me the following during a parent-teacher conference: “When kids are in school, they are on their best behavior so it’s not unusual for them to go home and act out. After all, if they can’t let their hair down there, where can they fall apart?” This statement has stuck with me for my entire life and I have found it incredibly useful as a parenting tool.



Kevin and I like to joke around about “public persona Keely.” This is the Keely MacDonald that’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met. She’s caring, funny, supportive and bright. She gives her friends pep talks. She compliments people. She is the glue that holds humanity together. We always say “do you think we’ll ever meet ‘public-persona Keely’ because she sounds delightful!” We felt, especially in her teenage years, that we got the sarcastic Keely, the stressed-out Keely, the mean and angry Keely. Kevin used to say to me, “I don’t know how you put up with her caustic remarks and mannerisms and the way she treats you.” I would respond by telling him my main parenting credo which was “IF my head isn’t killing me and I’m not going to get a CT Scan, then my girls couldn’t be as bad as I was. I gave my mom a ‘brain tumor’ so obviously, I’m better off than she was and I can put up with it”.



That’s how I always stayed calm. No matter what my kids were saying or doing. That rule has stood me in good stead. Now Keely, age 21, has worked through most of her teenage angst and while we still have our moments, she has emerged as one of the most delightful people I know. Andie reminds me of me. She can be moody, stubborn and mean but I know that she doesn’t mean it and that she both loves and needs me. After all, the flip side is that she is creative, funny, sarcastic and bright. We have some great times and Andie and I can really butt heads but I try not to take any of it personally. Having driven my own mom to a “brain tumor,” I just let their criticisms roll off my back.



Why am I writing about all this now? Since I’ve been “online” here in the blogging world I have started reading other blog posts. One such post was about an argument between two girls who were 9 and 11. The dialogue sounded so much like my girls that I was both mortified and amused. After all, my girls are 15 months apart and have such a love/hate symbiotic relationship that it’s created plenty of fireworks. At any rate, I commented to the “blogger” on Twitter that she was screwed and that those two girls were going to be major headaches and I used the hashtag on Twitter of #motheroftwobitches. This mother wasn’t pleased with the way I referred to my girls so I wanted to address that.



First of all, as someone with a bumper sticker that says “you say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing,” I don’t necessarily think being a “bitch” is so awful. Second of all, my girls can be both bitchy and bitches. That’s both a positive and a negative thing. Third of all, although I’ve only been on Twitter a few months, I have had a tendency to get in little Twitter wars with people. Sarcasm doesn’t come across very well in 140 characters. Sometimes, what I meant to allude to and what actually came out weren’t the same and the recipient of my Tweet has gotten offended. It’s a strange medium because there’s no place for subtlety or nuance in Twitter.



What’s my point? I think I lost it way back at the beginning of this entry. I suppose that my first point in that sometimes, you need to read between the lines to discover what a person really means. I also think that you can criticize and even make fun of your loved ones and still actually love them. There have been many times when I have “loved” my kids but not actually “liked” my kids. Fortunately, my kids have taken turns being the one I didn’t like so there was only one at a time. But back to my kids. Their hopes are my hopes. Their pain is my pain. Their successes are my successes. I suppose that my second point is that what you read on paper is only part of the story. My kids aren’t fully formed yet but I will say that honesty is the best parenting method out there. If my girls are bitches then hell yes I’m going to call them out on that. That doesn’t mean I don’t love them or even like them. I’m all for calling a spade a spade.



My kids are still works in progress and I won’t fully know for a long time, if ever, how I did as a parent. I will say that I wasn’t a perfect parent just as I’m not a perfect person. If my kids function in the world, can stand on their own and contribute to society in some small positive way, then I’ve done my job. And as to being the #motheroftwobitches, I love them and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

In which i discuss committment

I was just finishing a Pilates class this morning when a woman I know in the class said “Lynn, I thought about you the other day.” “In what capacity?” I asked. “I was playing in a tennis match and I really, really didn’t want to be there and I thought, what would Lynn MacDonald do?” Of course, this was really funny to me so I asked, “what did you come up with?” She said, “I decided that you wouldn’t have even shown up there if you didn’t feel like playing so you wouldn’t be in the mood to quit. Is that true?”




Hmmm … I never really thought about it like that. It is true that I try to NEVER do anything that I don’t want to do, but it’s always a different situation when you have other people depending on you. I play in a weekly Mahjong game with my kind-of stepmom (long explanation required here) and her friends on Wednesday afternoons. I enjoy these women but our relationship is kind of funny. First of all they treat me like a kid (and I’m 51) because they’re all at least 70 and second of all, I’m a little impatient and make remarks like “I’m off to get an hourglass to get this thing moving along more rapidly” (that’s right, shockingly enough I’m impatient which ALWAYS leads to rudeness for me). So, occasionally I really don’t feel like playing. I do show up however, because I’ve made a commitment to them and if there’s one good thing about me (and trust me, there’s not that many good things about me) it’s that I’m loyal, I don’t lie, and I honor my commitments.



So back to the tennis game, if I bothered to show up I would finish the game out. I might not be happy about it and by the time we finished I’m sure that my brain would be imploding but I would definitely stay there. So that got me thinking about commitments.



When the kids were younger, I used to take on huge projects all the time. I think it was because chatting with pre-schoolers all day isn’t a lot of exercise on the brain but mainly, I just wanted to occasionally talk to adults about things that weren’t:



Other mom: “My kid just figured out the global health crisis today and he’s only two, how’s your kid?”



Me: “Oh, my kid just beat the shit out of somebody at pre-school today and got kicked out, thanks for asking.”



So, I began my volunteer career by being the volunteer chairperson of the pre-school. This didn’t involve much as I had a co-chair and she basically did all the work while I just cut up and misbehaved at the meetings. I really don’t understand why these people always put up with me. My glory days, however, began when I moved on to fundraisers. I loved working on fundraisers. At the beginning, I would run the entire fundraiser but I truly found my calling with the decorations. I loved doing decorations for these things. Once we did this Mardi Gras theme and I spent months building huge centerpieces in my house. I loved the process and never begrudged anything creative I had to do.



Since then, I have done the decorations for more parties than I can even imagine. I’ve even done decorations for friends’ parties and Bar Mitzvah’s. I love the creative process involved in these things. But, I’ve never gone professional because if you just take it job by job, you always have the ability to quit whenever you want. It seems to be the story of my life. Get pretty good at something and then quit. Not for nothing do I call myself an underachiever.



When my kids moved on to primary school, I was asked to work on a haunted house. Of course I had a co-chair and while she did ALL the work, I spent months - and I mean months - building a 7-foot model of the creature from “Aliens” in my garage. This thing was huge and was run by a computer so that it rose up and then crouched back down. I also made “steaming” pods using dry ice for the “fake” steam. The entire contraption was amazing. Kevin couldn’t pull into the garage for about 3 months because I built the thing in his parking space. I had a blast building it and one of my favorite things to do was to run up to Lowe’s and say to the guys there “so I’m building this Alien and I need some material that can help make it look like so and so.” Their reaction was priceless.



But I digress. The point I was making was that if I do take on a commitment, I usually follow through but I learned long ago not to take on the type of activity that I don’t enjoy. About 4 years ago, The United Way asked me to be on a huge committee for them to discuss an umbrella organization for the many groups that help underprivileged and underserved people in the Greater Greensboro Area. I served on this committee for about 3 years and it was incredibly frustrating to me. I didn’t feel like I was serving a huge purpose as I wasn’t a “professional” in any of the necessary areas. I couldn’t believe how slow the process was because of all the “fiefdoms” that the individual groups had and the vast amount of in-fighting that abounded as a result. I was incredibly bored with all the yapping. So after 3 years, I quit the committee. I feel mildly bad about it because I don’t usually quit such things but the lack of forward progress was driving me nuts. I’m not a very patient person as exhibited by how much I bitch about this blog and it’s lack of readership.



So. Commitment. When I commit, which I rarely do, I stick it out. So if you’re asking yourself, “what would Lynn MacDonald do?” Pretty much, whatever the hell she wants. Thanks for asking.

In which i begin the descent

It’s coming. I can feel it seeping into the recesses of my mind. Depression. It’s like the fingers of a fog. At first you don’t notice and then there’s that haze everywhere and you can no longer see clearly. When I began this blog three months ago, I was in what you might refer to as a “hypomanic” stage. What does that mean? The definition of hypomania according to Wikipedia is “a mood state characterized by persistent and pervasive elevated (euphoric) or irritable mood, as well as thoughts and behaviors that are consistent with such a mood state. Individuals in a hypomanic state have a decreased need for sleep, are extremely outgoing and competitive, and have a great deal of energy. Hypomania is a feature of bipolar II disorder and is sometimes credited with increasing creativity and productive energy. A significant number of people with creative talents have reportedly experienced hypomania or other symptoms of bipolar disorder and attribute their success to it. Classic symptoms of hypomania include mild euphoria, a flood of ideas, endless energy, and a desire and drive for success.”




Ok, so I’ve been in this incredibly good mood for about six months now. I feel great and I’ve actually lost weight as I’m a person who tends to eat when “down” or under stress. My ideas are zipping around in my brain like electrons. Sleep? Who needs it? So yeah, I’d say I was in a hypomanic state.



Three months ago I decided to begin this blog. Naturally, the first thing that happened was my children figured that I would never stick it out. In a way I understand their attitudes and I have a tendency to quit things when I’m bored (and I’m bored a lot). I’ve actually begun the process of writing my book twice before and did indeed post 3 entries to this blog back in 2008 before I quit. So, I get their doubt and attitude. But this time, it pissed me off. I tried to explain that it’s not that I’m incapable of completing tasks; it’s always been a choice to quit. I could see by their skepticism that they really didn’t buy into that. So, I decided that come hell or high water, I was going to blog for at least 6 months. Now this is no small statement for me. The only thing I’ve done longer than 6 months is actually keep my kids around and believe me when I tell you; I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.



I talked to my shrink and he pointed out that my mood normally crashes around Thanksgiving. There are many reasons for this but the biggest reason is SAD (seasonal affective disorder). It’s been a pattern for so long that at this point, I just accept that around Thanksgiving I’m going to crash into a melancholy mood and stay there until around March. It didn’t help that 12 years ago my Dad died two days before Thanksgiving and I have correlation as well. I’m not dysfunctional when I’m down, at least no more than normal. I’m just more contemplative, agitated and morose, you get the drift. Can I still have fun? Can I still be fun? Yes, the depression is not all encompassing or all consuming and I actually take Prozac to control it but still, after all these years I no longer fight my moods. I simply hold on and take the roller coaster ride that is Lynn MacDonald.



Why am I telling you this? First, it’s my blog and I can say what I damn well please. Second, so many people hide their mood swings. I don’t. They’re who I am. Without them, maybe I wouldn’t be funny, or creative, or I don’t know ... I just wouldn’t be me. So I embrace them. I don’t always like them but I don’t fight them either. I’m 51. I am who I am, for better or worse. I have absolutely nothing to hide. If you’ve been a reader of this blog, you will get to know me, warts and all!



Back to the beginning. I talked to my shrink and told him my goal and he said what happens when you crash; are sad and want to quit? I said, maybe it’s time to grow up (I know, right?) and tough my way through this. Maybe I will be sad so I’ll write sad stuff. Maybe I won’t be as funny. Maybe I’ll be more introspective. Maybe I’ll just plain suck but I’M GOING TO DO THIS. For the first time in my life, I’m going to push the envelope and make myself go through the darkness and unfortunately for you, you’re going to accompany me.



So, here I am. The last few weeks I noticed that I’ve been pissed off and ranting a lot. I even picked a huge fucking fight with someone close to me which is still not resolved at this point. This morning, I realized that I had gained some weight. Yesterday, my shrink asked me some questions about my mood and pointed out that I was showing all the signs of a crash. Holy Shit! It’s so weird. After all this time, even noting where we are in the calendar, it didn’t strike me that I was crashing. But this morning, I could tell. It’s seeping in. I feel tense, agitated. I have doubts. And worries, which is something I completely avoid.



The journey is about to begin. The fact is that All Fooked Up is as fucked up as the rest of you. Don’t deny it, you’re fucked up too! I hope you stick with me. It’ll still be fun because I’m not a “stay in the bed” type of person. I’ll have adventures, funny stories. In fact, right after the light bulb went off this morning, Kevin and I had an incredibly funny conversation which I shall soon share. I’m very self-aware and I think you’ll enjoy the ride. So batten down the hatches and get ready for the storm. Lynn MacDonald is descending into madness!

In which i discuss "Harold and the Purple Crayon"

“Harold and the Purple Crayon” was published in 1955 and still might be the best metaphor for life ever written. Have you read Harold and the Purple Crayon? Because you should, and your children should read it too. Here’s the basic premise:




Harold is a little boy and one night, he decides to go for a walk in the moonlight and he realizes that “there wasn’t any moon, and Harold needed a moon for a walk in the moonlight. And he needed something to walk on. He made a long straight path so he wouldn’t get lost. And he set off on his walk, taking his big purple crayon with him.”



Now obviously, I’m not going to tell the entire book here but suffice it to say that he went for a walk and ended up on a whale of an adventure. Every time Harold needed to “add” to his adventure, he simply used his “big purple crayon” to create whatever it was that he needed. After a long and exhausting journey Harold decides he wants to go home and eventually, figures out that home is where his bed is with a view of the moon out his window. He draws it, crawls into bed and “the purple crayon dropped on the floor. And Harold dropped off to sleep.”



Why is this so important and why do I think it’s the best metaphor ever written? I’ll tell you and feel free to disagree with me if you’d like. Harold wants to do something so he creates it. He creates his adventure. He creates his world and every time he encounters some sort of problem, he creates a solution. When he was hungry, he drew an apple tree. When he wanted a picnic, he created pies. Too much pie? A hungry moose and porcupine were available to help eat it. Harold did what we all want to do but are too afraid to try. He set off on an adventure, of his own choosing, not really thinking about what came next and where he would end up. These issues were big and small but Harold, and his trusty purple crayon, drew himself right out of them whether by “drawing” a boat, a balloon or at the end, his own bed. He wasn’t scared of what he might find along the way trusting that he could figure out some way to move on, move past the encumbrance.



We don’t do that anymore. Adults don’t do that. We’re scared. We don’t take risks. Kids dream and they dream big. None of the “practicalities” of life interfere with their dreams. Harold wanted an adventure and there weren’t any limits placed upon it. Sure, things were different in 1955 from they are now. When I was a kid we took off in the morning on our bikes and showed up at sundown. We had bike trails and forts in the woods. We ran wild and free. It was a different time when the dangers of the “real” world were few and far between. Fear wasn’t a part of our basic vocabulary. Even after my brother was hit by a car and almost killed, we didn’t view the world with cynicism and dismay.



My kids didn’t grow up this way. There was “stranger danger,” traffic, and many other real issues to keep them from being far-ranging in their play. I didn’t let them touch base only once a day. But still, there’s the dream that you can go off and have your adventure. That life doesn’t have to be so regulated and restricted. That you too can find your own “purple crayon” and follow your dreams. One of the goals I have always had for my kids is to let them follow their dreams and to be what they want, go where they desire. Do I expect them to buckle down and achieve in school? Of course I do but that doesn’t negate my teaching them to take risks. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” is one of my favorite things to say. You can play it safe and risk nothing. You don’t “lose” but you also don’t “win.”



So, let’s all take our cue from Harold, find our own purple crayons and go draw out the life we want, not just the one that’s in front of us!

In which i discuss regrets

I think I explained one of my main credos of life in a previous article entitled “I’m not even worried about it.” Today, I would like to discuss one of my other basic tenants which is “I don’t believe in regrets.” Here’s why:




I was 29 when I moved back to North Carolina, pregnant and without having that many friends after having been away for 9 years. Naturally, I looked up some people I had known in my childhood but not necessarily stayed in touch with. One was a girl that I had known through swimming so our relationship was developed over a long period of time. We were discussing growing up and she told me that she had a lot of regrets and the following conversation took place:



Her:      “I have a lot of regrets from when I was in high school and college”



Me:       “What kind of regrets?”



Her:      “I was slutty and slept around a lot”



Me:       “So? That was a long time ago.”



Her:      “I just can’t forgive myself for behaving that way”



Me:       “That’s crazy. Why does it even matter at this point?”



Her:      “I just can’t move beyond it. Don’t you feel that way?”



Me:       (I was pretty wild in my ill spent youth so this was a valid question)

            “No, I don’t believe in regrets.”



Her:      “What?”



Me:       “Really. I DON’T believe in regrets!”



Her:      “What does that mean Lynn?”



Me:       “Looking back on my life, there are a lot of situations that I shouldn’t have been in. There were a lot of comments I made to people that were awful and yes, I do feel bad about that. There were decisions that I made at the time that seemed good, and turned out to be awful, that have definitely made me think about my choices. And especially when I was drinking, things seem like a great idea and often that didn’t turn out to be the case.”



Her:      “…and…”



Me:       “But given all that, I still don’t regret anything.”



Her:      “How is that possible?”



Me:       “It’s possible because I like where I am today and the person I’ve become. I like my life. Yeah, I’ve made mistakes and done plenty of things that I’m not proud of but those incidents were the stepping stones on the path that I walked. Without them, who knows what I’d be like today. Maybe I wouldn’t be this person, with this relationship. Maybe I wouldn’t be pregnant with this child. Is it possible I’d have another great life? Sure it’s possible. I have no way of knowing. So no, I wouldn’t change a thing.”



To this day, I feel the same way. If I could go back and be nicer to people (or at least not shit on them the way I apparently did back in college), then I would. But I can’t. I’m sorry if my behaviors upset some people. I’ve tried to apologize to the people that I hurt if I still have any contact with them. I do feel bad that I, in some way, contributed to screwing up somebody else’s life. At any rate, I’ve dealt with my own possible diagnosis of MS, my brothers traumatic car wreck injuries, my parents’ deaths, my son’s autism diagnosis, my daughter’s tumor and plenty of other shit along the line. If I did not have the coping skills that come along with constantly having had to dig myself out of holes, it is possible that last year (the year of Keely’s fucking huge tumor) would have been worse for me and everyone in my family.



So no, I don’t believe in regrets. What’s the point of kicking yourself over something that happened a long time ago? If you need to apologize to somebody, apologize. If you need to rectify a situation, do so but seriously, WHY waste your time and energy over something that happened in the past and that there is absolutely no way you could change. Unless you hate who you are now, then get over it. I did. And if you do hate who you are now, you really should be looking into why you don’t like yourself NOW rather than reflecting on stuff that happened long ago that you can’t affect.



So, now you know two things about me. One: I don’t believe in worrying about things out of your control and two: I don’t believe in regrets. Stick with me in this blog and we will eventually get to number three: set the bar low. I have no lack of personal credos and I hope you get to hear them all!

in which i discuss the "seventh inning stretch"

I’m so damned sick of “God Bless America.” Not the country, the song. Today I was in spin class and “Sweet Caroline” came on. I’ve always loved this song but what I really love about it is that it’s played during the seventh inning stretch at Fenway Park, home of The Boston Red Sox. When it comes on, the entire place sings along with a rousing rendition of the song and it’s one of the most fun, embracing experiences you’ll have at a ballpark. What is the seventh inning stretch? It used to be the time between the top and the bottom of the seventh inning when fans stood up and, you guessed it, stretched. It was accompanied by a rousing sing-a-long “Take me out to the ballgame.” It’s been around forever and its part of our national pastime.




But not any more; ever since the World Trade Center fell and 9/11 happened, we get “God Bless America.” Now I love America as much as anybody else, although if you listen to Fox News they will tell me I don’t, but I’m ready to move on and I have been for some time. I saw what happened that day. I was an adult with access to a TV. Was it tragic? It was. Did it resonate on a personal level? It did. I used to live in New York City and my apartment was in SoHo and I could see the World Trade Center from my apartment. I interviewed for a job at Shearson Lehman on the 107th floor. My brother worked in the building for Dean Witter for many years. He lost a few very good friends there that day. I got engaged at “Windows on the World” at the top of the World Trade Center so believe me, I get it.



But am I going to stop living? Aren’t we supposed to move on from tragedy? Are we supposed to let it define us forever? I know people lost loved ones that day and yet, they don’t have a monopoly on pain. It was a wasteful, tragic way to die. So is war. So are car wrecks. So are suicide and drug overdoses. They’re all tragic. But what’s even more tragic is living in it, wallowing in it, and letting it be “what you are.” I understand that in 2001 when this happened, that especially in New York when they sang the song it was amazing and honestly, I got chill bumps hearing them sing God Bless America at the seventh inning stretch.



It’s been 9 years. Baseball is the American Pasttime. The seventh inning stretch is part of baseball. When are we going to get our Pasttime back? When are we going to move on? One of the most important lessons I’ve ever taught my kids is that life moves on. I haven’t talked about it yet but the day my mom died was one of the “funniest” days of my life. I decided to teach my kids a lesson that life moves on and it was an unmitigated disaster, but that’s ok, because nobody ever said moving on was supposed to be easy…or painless.



So what say ye? Aren’t you tired of dwelling on sadness? Aren’t you ready to move on? Let’s take baseball back and sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” or if you’re really lucky and you’re part of Red Sox Nation, “Sweet Caroline.” I mean, who’s really winning when you give up? Not us. The terrorists who caused this situation win. They’ve taken us out of our game. I realize that this might not be a popular opinion and it is certainly not politically correct, but I’m not really a popular person and sometimes you have to say what you mean and get ready for the backlash. So “Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack, I don't care if I never get back, Let me root, root, root for the home team, If they don't win it's a shame. For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out, At the old ball game."

in which i discuss my pet peeves

Can I talk to you about a pet peeve of mine? Of course I can, this is my blog after all. I would like to discuss common courtesy. I was on my way home from spending the morning at the Lexus dealer. This wasn’t as bad as you would think. They have free coffee, WiFi, TV and comfortable chairs. At any rate, after being at the dealership for 3 hours I was looking forward to getting home.



I live near Guilford Battleground which is a National Park in Greensboro, North Carolina. Many people go there to walk, run and bike the many trails in the park. There is a road that runs through the park, shockingly enough named Battleground. There are crosswalks across this road and in North Carolina State law says we have to yield to pedestrians. Although I’m not really a nice person, I always obey a few basic tenants and one of those is “don’t run over pedestrians.” Long story short, I believe in stopping when I see people who want to cross the street. So today, there was a person waiting to cross and I stopped to allow them to do so safely. But did the other direction stop? In a word NO. Three cars continued through until FINALLY, a driver in the other direction stopped to allow said pedestrian to cross the road safely.



This is such bullshit. What is it with people that they can’t take a few goddamn seconds out of their day to be a decent person? I drive through this park at least once a day and this is not an unusual occurrence. People are so wrapped up in themselves that they can’t think beyond their own bubble. This led me to start thinking of other things that bug me (and there are a lot), one of which is littering.



Kevin and I have a joke that we are “excellent people.” This came about because when the kids were little, we had a sitter EVERY SINGLE SATURDAY NIGHT and we would often start the night with a movie and then go out for dinner. Movie theatres are usually disgusting, sticky places and there are times when you need to pry your feet off the floor. Kevin and I would get popcorn to share, he would get a Coke and I always drank water. After the movie was over, Kevin and I ALWAYS cleaned up our mess. What’s so great about that? Just the fact that so many people just leave their shit behind for the movie theatre people to clean up. I realize that this is a job for the movie theatre people but at what point did people get so damn lazy? We started the joke and say “let’s be excellent people today and pick up our mess.” Of course, we are always excellent people because I just don’t get humans who think that there’s someone always walking behind them cleaning up after them. That’s the basic problem. Nobody wants to be responsible for their own shit. Everybody wants somebody else to do it. It’s indicative of a huge problem in the world at large.



It’s the same with littering. What type of person just throws their shit out the window? Where do they think its going to go? What do they think is going to happen to it? Is it just going to disappear? Would you do this is your own house? HELL NO YOU WOULDN’T! But isn’t the Earth essentially your house as well? I mean, we ALL live here on it. Without Earths bountiful resources, we wouldn’t have SHIT and we’d also probably be dead. What is it in your car that couldn’t wait until you found a trash can? I don’t know about you but there are plenty of trashcans in my house. There is also a giant green can and also a brown can for recycling outside my house. I have never been to somebody’s house who doesn’t own a trashcan. Every restaurant, gas station, movie theatre, drug store, and rest area I have EVER been to has had a trash can. So what the hell are you doing dropping your shit on MY EARTH. Who do you think is going to clean it up?



A few years ago, I was driving one of my kids to swimming practice when I saw a few teenage boys I know throw their fast food garbage out the window. I was incensed. They were going to the same place I was so when I got there, I turned off my car and got out, ready for battle. Needless to say, my daughter wasn’t too thrilled to see me go after those kids in my state. “What the hell is wrong with you boys?” I yelled at them. To say they were startled would be an understatement, but I was pissed. I wanted them to understand that their laziness and lack of caring affected us all. When they litter, they just don’t spoil their own little area … they spoil all our areas. It’s a domino effect. So, after my brief little tirade where they sat there openmouthed and in shock, they both responded “Yes Mrs. MacDonald” when I asked if they understood.



I’m not sure what impact I had on them although I know one of them is scared of me to this day, but I will say that I refuse to be quiet and stand down on this issue. Screw up your own life, trash your own house or car, that’s your choice. But littering? Screwing up MY EARTH? That’s not fair and I won’t take it lying down. So beware all you litterbugs out there. If I see you, I WILL SAY SOMETHING …

In which i discuss personal strength

How did you get to be so strong? How did you get so capable? I get asked these types of questions all the time and I rarely think about them. But today I did. My son was bugging me about pancakes, or the lack thereof, in the house for breakfast and it made me think of how my mom would have reacted to this whining. It wouldn’t have been pretty, I can tell you that. My parents’ methods of child-rearing were completely different than my own, for better or worse. They were all about being independent, self-sufficient and handling your own shit. At any rate, roaming down the random thoughts highway I remembered this question and today, I’m going to give an answer.



About 14 years ago, my mother inconveniently died. I say inconvenient, because it wasn’t actually my idea and I had plenty of questions that I had neglected to have her answer so I’m stuck wondering what my mom thought of everything related to her kids and their lives while growing up. Actually, she was an English teacher and just the previous run-on sentence was probably enough to kill her. At any rate, she died. And within two years my dad died too. Just to add to the greater joy in my life, in the midst of those two deaths, my son was kicked out of pre-school and then diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, a mild form of autism.



I was floored - shocked actually – that all the idiosyncrasies that were my child weren’t “normal”. I wanted to cry on my mom’s shoulder and rail against the world but she wasn’t around. My dad wasn’t either so that only left Kevin, my husband, but when I turned to him he was crying too. So what do you do? When everything around you is falling apart and there’s nobody left to lean on, what do you do? YOU BECOME THE STRONG ONE. There’s no choice. You’re there, with three kids, a husband and a pretty difficult situation. Someone has to be Atlas and in this situation, that someone was me. So you pick up your burdens and you CARRY ON. It’s not that my husband wasn’t on board the situation, he was, but he already had a job to do and that job didn’t allow a lot of extra time for treatments, research and intervention ideas.



It’s always amazed me that people view that as incredible. I mean, what other options did I have? Things needed to be done. Life needed to go on. Methodologies needed to be researched. We had a MAJOR problem to deal with and someone (that someone being me) was going to have to step up to the plate. I’ve always been amazed that people ever think there’s a choice. There’s not. You just do what you have to do.



Over time, the more often you step up to the plate, the less scary the plate becomes. It’s that mentality that has enabled me to deal with my many family crises, as well as many situations that my friends have found themselves in. Calmness in the face of the storm is a trait that is very beneficial to have. And that trait can be honed, sometimes not by choice, but by necessity.



When I was growing up my older brother was hit by a car. It was a terrible accident, and while I won’t go into details, he ended up blind in one eye with a surgically reconstructed nose and years upon years of craniofacial surgery. He was 10 and I was 7 when it happened. It was a traumatic even that shaped my childhood and the ripple effects have never ended. I once asked my mom how she dealt with such a situation as well as two other small children at home. Her reply was “you deal with the situation you’ve been given. You can’t just drop everything for the one child who needs you because then you create situations for the other two children who are left behind. You need to find balance and it’s not easy. You just do what you have to do.”



So the next time you find yourself in a difficult situation, don’t think of it as a burden. Think of it as a way to spread your wings, show yourself that you too can be a pillar of strength. Believe me, it will change your outlook on the world.

In which i wonder "Why is America Lost?"

I usually try to keep this blog light and shallow but this election season has made me wonder, what’s going on around here hence:

Why is America Lost?

Because we all sit around and say that “money doesn’t buy happiness” but the truth is it sure makes it more attainable



Because we live in “the land of the free” but then we resent and judge people based on their choices: religious, sexual or otherwise



Because we say we’re color blind yet we say things like “he sure speaks eloquently ‘for a black person’”



Because we resent immigrants and say “stay away” when, in fact, we were ALL immigrants (except for the Native Americans) at one point



Because we admire the sports heroes, singers, actors and the rich when, in fact, the people who actually interact with our kids - the teachers, coaches, instructors - don’t make SHIT for money



Because we say we will “do unto others as we would have them do unto you” and then we ignore the dispossessed, the mentally ill, and the poor



Because we all want to “live forever” but nobody wants to pay to keep the elderly alive



Because we want “cheaper goods” and yet we want them MADE IN AMERICA



Because we’re supposed to be the land of opportunity for all, not just for the privileged



Because, as individuals, we don’t think for ourselves



Because we feel we’re entitled



Because we long ago lost the national initiative of a Nation Undivided and we let our partisan bickering and self interests get in the way of our common purpose



Because it’s always “not in my back yard”



Because we all say we care about the Earth, as long as it’s everyone else making the sacrifices



Because we’re good at pretending that one person can’t make a difference



Because we used to be a “melting pot” and all those flavors made us richer, and now we want to be bland



Because the best and the brightest go into finance because that’s where the money is instead of into science and research, even though that’s where the future is



Because we think we can impose our way of life upon other people in other countries with complete disregard to their own wishes



Because there are areas in Oakland and other cities that have a higher death rate than the fire bases in Afghanistan and yet they’re ignored



Because our politicians are more concerned about being re-elected than in doing the right thing



Because the budget deficit is robbing our children of their future and we’re letting it happen



Because we no longer have a “lay-away” mentality and expect immediate gratification



Because Chapter 11 is no longer a last resort but a good business decision



Because sacrifice is no longer in the American “lingo”



Because we’ve become a society of “what can you do for me now”



Because we want to keep up with “the Jones” although they’re in debt too



Because we think we can have it all, and that’s not possible



Because I’m no better than the rest



Because neither are you

In which i discuss gym etiquette

I would like to talk a little bit today about gym etiquette. I’m not usually one to worry about “the rules” but there are some rules that even I obey. I belong to two different gyms and a pilates studio. Lest you think I’m a workout nut, that’s not the case. I belong to a smaller gym called “Purenergy” where I do the bulk of my work out. I take spin classes there and most of my “gym pals” can be found at this location. Because they had some intro Pilates classes, I started taking them as well at a small studio called “Core Integrity Pilates.” These two places reside next to each other so I spend most of my working out life at that locale.



Kevin and I also have a joint membership at “The Club” (formally known as Sportime). We joined in 1989 when we moved here and I used to play racquetball and swim. We’re still members and Kevin works out there. When I’m not taking a class and I’m simply working out on my own (usually just on weekends), I go to Sportime as their equipment is newer and better, not to mention the one million high-def TV’s they have all over the place.



So today I was a “The Club,” and was on the recumbent bike doing a one-hour pedaling workout. I don’t kill myself working out; I don’t really believe in working too, too hard, but I do pedal as long as I can keep myself distracted. I’m old enough to realize that the more calories I burn during exercise, the more chocolate I can eat during the day. Since I got an iPad for my birthday (this past June), my workout times have increased tremendously. My iPad has email, YouTube, the internet, Twitter, AIM and many other applications to keep me busy for long periods of time so I’m actually in better shape than usual as I’m working out longer. I normally get my water, sit down, put on my headphones and turn on iTunes and I’m good to go. I mostly ignore the people around me and hope that their eyes aren’t good enough to read my screen as I can’t promise that what I’m reading and looking at is PG (yeah, I enjoy my smut. So what?) At any rate, I’m pretty self-absorbed (as compared to the rest of my life where I’m completely self-absorbed).



Today, I was about 50 minutes through my workout when the guy next to me taps me on the shoulder. I have headphones on and if that’s not a clear indicator of “stay the fuck away from me,” then I don’t know what is. So I remove the headphones from my ears and put them around my neck:



Me:                           “Can I help you?”



Random guy:             “How do you like your iPad?”



(OK, this happens a lot. People always ask about the iPad and I try to be nice about it. They usually just want to know if they’re worth buying. Since I’m hopelessly addicted to mine, I always answer yes)



Me:                             “I love it.” (short, simple, hopefully end of discussion)



Random guy:               “I have one too.”



Me:                             (Thinking Big Fucking Deal but I’m still trying…) “That’s excellent, I’m so happy for you.”



Random guy:               “I got charged for an application I never bought.”



Me:                             (Thinking I don’t give a shit) “Um…I’m sorry to hear that?”



Random guy:               “Yeah, I went and checked and it cost 4.99 and I usually just buy apps that cost 2.99.”



Me:                             (Is this guy fucking kidding me? Do I care? Could I be less interested? NO. But do I say that? NO I don’t) “Oh, I actually never check my account now that I think about it so I doubt I would notice if I got overcharged. Did it show up on your screen as an app?”



Random guy:                “Yes, I don’t have many apps so I noticed it right away.”



Me:                              “… and did you call Apple and report it?”



Random guy:                “No.”



Me:                             (Thinking okay, and, “you’re telling me this, WHY?” So I grab my headphones and start putting them back on)



Random guy:               “Did you know that you can download movies from YouTube?”



Me:                             (I’m sorry. Do I look like a complete moron to you?) “Yes, I’m aware of it. I actually have some TV shows but no movies on my iTunes”

                                   (I start putting the headphones on again)



Random guy:               “Did you know that you can get all classic books for free?”



Me:                             (I’m seriously thinking of putting a bullet in my brain and I’m starting to get stressed which is NEVER the point of working out) “No, I didn’t know that.”



Random guy:               “It’s true. You can get some of the reading apps and you get all the classics for free.”



Me:                             (UNBELIEVABLE!!! This guy is sitting here drinking coffee and he comes to the gym without a distraction plan and he expects ME to entertain him. I mean, WTF?) “That’s great. I mostly just surf the internet though. I gotta finish my workout now, so excuse me.” (and I put my headphones on and try to breathe)



I’m suicidal now and I only have about five more minutes in my workout and I’m in a panic that he’s going to come back for seconds and start talking to me. I’m so tense that I really want to kill somebody, and then possibly eat a pound of M&M’s. But, instead I finish the workout and sure enough, he starts talking again. He wants to discuss my iPad, books, I mean really? Do I look like I’m friendly? I’ve already described how I have a bumper sticker that says “you say I’m a bitch like it’s a bad thing”. I almost replaced that a few years ago with a bumper sticker that said “Do I look like a people person to you?” Seriously, the only reason I didn’t change it is because I’m pretty well known for the one I have so I didn’t want to shake the earth off its axis. I have no desire to talk to random people unless I initiate the conversation and clearly, that wasn’t the case here. I have never cleaned my bike so fast and I tore out of there like a bat out of hell.



So, back to gym etiquette and the point I was attempting to make: IF SOMEONE IS WORKING OUT AT THE GYM WITH THEIR HEADPHONES ON, UNLESS THEY ARE A GOOD FRIEND OF YOURS LEAVE THEM THE HELL ALONE!!



I mean, I’m just sayin’ ...

In which i discuss my "best friend application"

About 6 years ago, my brother came over to break the news to me that he was getting divorced. I was heartbroken, not only because of the fact that I had NO IDEA that things were this bad in his marriage, but because my then sister-in-law was also MY BEST FRIEND and I was oblivious. I’m not a crier and despite the fact that I had already lost two parents, dealt with millions of medical emergencies, and had a child declared autistic, this news really, really got to me. My daughter Keely had never seen me cry so when I broke down and sobbed, she literally didn’t know what to do. It freaked both her and myself out.



I knew that not only was it going to be an end of a marriage but it was inevitable that it would be the end of a friendship. I am still friends with my ex sister-in-law but as was bound to happen, we are no longer best friends although I still love her dearly and I believe the feeling is mutual. At any rate, after an adjustment period, I began to ponder how I would get a new “best friend.” I’m not really a girl’s girl and while I have a lot of friends, I don’t have that many people who actually know the real me. I’m sure you can tell by previous blogs that my personality is a little out of hand.



Most people make their friendships through either a job, family or their children. The vast majority of my friendships came through playgroups, my kids’ schools and their extracurricular activities. However, by your 40’s, most of these friendships are formed so how do you go about making a new best friend? I had always had ONE best friend as I was not one of those sorority type chicks who hang out in large groups. So, what to do? As I was mulling, and sulking, my daughter Keely and I came up with a BRILLIANT solution. Keely, who is a very funny writer in her own right, agreed with me that we should make a BEST FRIEND APPLICATION for people to apply for the job of being my best friend.



I want to give credit where credits due. While I was a part of this process, the crazy part of this application was all KEELY. We made the application and handed it out. It became part of a craze and pretty soon I had tons of high schoolers filling this application out to be my “best friend.” It was something of a joke, until a teacher found it in the cafeteria at the private school my kids attended. She asked the girls what the application was and then even she filled it out. The effect was instantaneous and I knew we had created a sensation!



I have many, many filled out applications at home in a folder and the answers are amazing so today, without further ado, I would like to share my best friend application with you. I know it’s already been posted at the beginning of this blog, but this is something that bears repeating. I hope you enjoy it!

Lynn MacDonald’s

Best Friend Application

1. What is your name?


2. What is your quest?


3. What is the capital of Assyria?


4. Did you know those are all from Monty Python and the Holy Grail?


5. Who is the funniest person you know?


6. Who is the funniest person ever in the history of the world even though you haven’t met some people?


7. What does the earth revolve around? (hint: the correct answer is not “the sun”)


8. Who makes the best cookies?


9. How old are you?


10.        If you’re under 18, do you have permission from your mom to even be talking to me?


11. Will you cater to my every whim and need?


12. What would a good nickname for me be?


13. What 50 words best describe Lynn MacDonald?


14. If you think I’m a bitch, is it necessarily a bad thing?


15. Do you like this font? If not then why not? My favorite person Keely decided she liked it… Answer the question.


16. One time at band camp… (please finish the sentence in the funniest way possible. You will be graded. This question is worth five points of your final grade! If your answer cannot be read to class, then you should have written a better one – one you are proud enough of to read to me and my entire family.)


17. What is the average velocity of an unladen swallow?


18. What type of music do you listen to?


19. Who would you rather spend a half an hour with: Lynn MacDonald or Michael Jordan or George W. Bush?


20.         Why on all these tens numbers does it keep indenting?


21. And now it’s back to normal. What’s the deal with that?


22.       Okay, wait. Now it’s doing it on this one. Is it because it’s the first number on the page? What is your philosophy?


23. Are you aware that hundreds of people have been fired from my best friend position?


24. Can you handle the pressure?


25. Are you easily intimidated by Lynn MacDonald’s superior intellect, sense of humor, and incredible looks?


26. Do you think I’m full of myself?


27. I’m not. Get over it. This isn’t a question.


28. Have you ever won a wet t-shirt contest? If so, how much money did you win?


29. Can you BUST A MOVE?


30. What are your favorite movies? Choose wisely…


31. If you’re a boy, are you willing to date my amazing daughters, Keely and Andie?


32. You would realize that you wouldn’t date them both at the same time, right?


33. Would you rather read:


                       a. Star (aka “smut”)


                       b. Sports Illustrated


                       c. The Wall Street Journal


34. If C was your preferred choice, do not go any further. If A was your choice, give me the scuttlebutt. If you chose B… then you aren’t very special, are you?


35. Are you a Yankees fan?


36. If so, can you be converted to a rabid Red Sox fan?


37. Or maybe just a regular Red Sox fan?


38. Rabid is preferred. Foaming at the mouth is good…


39. Are you answering these questions honestly or just sucking up?


40. What do you think of a martyr starter kit?


41. Have you ever seen such a kit?


42. Would you willing to market it for Lynn MacDonald


43. EXTRA CREDIT: Are you willing to call on a daily basis?


44. What do you think of the word “strategery?”


45. Do you think I’m getting off-topic?


46. If so, explain why. If not, then how come?


47. Show me the money… SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!!...?


48. What movie is that from?


49. I knew that. Why did you tell me?


50. Do you like it when I repeat my hilarious stories?


51. A lot of times?


52. A whoooooooooole lot of times?


53. Are you sure?


54. Okay fine. I believe you. Should I believe you?


55. What kind of stories can I tell you:


          a. G rated


          b. PG-13


          c. R


          d. X and above


56. I have a lot of X and above. Be prepared.


57. Are you easily shocked?


58. Are you lacking a sense of humor? If so, why are you even bothering to fill this out?


Essays (Worth a lot of your grade. Suck up to the people who grade them – Andie and Keely and myself, the amazing Lynn MacDonald – make sure you do well on it! You may use additional paper if needed.)


1. In a mere 500 words, tell me why you currently have no best friend. What makes you think you’re best friend material?


2. In a well thought-out ENGLILSH paper, tell me what a good question about myself would be. Give supporting details and make sure you use metaphors and similes for good imagery. Extra points given for cool nickname.


Well, I hope you enjoyed it. The jobs already been filled but feel free to fill it out and send it in. After all, you never know when I’ll need a new best friend!

In which i spread the word

The other night we had a party at our house. Every three years, our company has a National Sales Meeting here in Greensboro. At some point in the week, we have a party for all the sales reps to come to our house, enjoy the food and wine and just generally wind down from whatever it is that my brother makes them do all day.



The party is actually a lot of fun as I have it catered with a bar so I just run around and bullshit with people, which is my forte. Wine and beer are flowing so people are generally pretty relaxed. As I only see these guys every three years, I can’t remember their names. It’s not that I don’t try but I can’t. Then they’re all sad and puppy dog like because they think I don’t remember them.



I do remember them, just not their names. I mean, if I wasn’t for the post it note that I attach to Kevin every night that says “this is Kevin MacDonald you dumbshit, your husband of 20 some odd years” I wouldn’t even remember his name when I wake up. So seriously, there’s no way that 40 guys are going to walk into my house every three years and I’m going to remember their names. I mean, they only have to remember me and trust me, I’m pretty unforgettable, but I have tons of them to remember. But that doesn’t stop them from sulking.



This year was a unique opportunity to launch my new blog on the unsuspecting world at large. After everybody was mellow, I went around and handed out my “All Fooked Up” business cards. Yes folks, I have made business cards. That way, when people ask me for the link I already have it printed up. Even if people don’t ask me for the link, I hand them out. At any rate, I handed out the cards and made a general announcement that went something like this, “Hello everyone, this is the link to my new website “All Fooked Up”. My goal is to become famous enough to publish a book and then reach my ultimate goal of becoming a Professional Talk Show Guest. Therefore, it is essential that every one of you not only check out the blog but I expect at least ten of your nearest and dearest to become followers. If this hasn’t been accomplished within two weeks, YOU WILL BE FIRED.”



Okay, after the huge silence I thought I would check with Sherry, our Human Resources manager to find out if this was legal. Apparently it’s not legal to fire people because they won’t read my blog. Undeterred however, I didn’t let them know this. I have done nothing but promote this blog and honestly, I’m pretty bored with myself and I didn’t even know that was possible so I feel that it’s time for someone else to pick up the slack.



The meeting is now over and all the guys have taken off for points unknown. But don’t worry, “All Fooked Up” will be accompanying them. So, ready or not, here I come world.



I mean, I’m just saying ….

In which i'm not even worried about it

I’m sitting here at my computer trying to think about a topic to write about. It’s not like I don’t have any. In fact, I have a five page document next to me that has hundreds of topics and/or stories for me to write about. No, the problem is that my mind is racing and I can’t figure out what I’m in the mood for. I could regale you with more stories of my time being an insolent employee of International Paper Company, other stories which Kevin has done something silly (or I could give the poor fellow a break), my kids, my pets, the multiple times I’ve been fired. You name it, there are millions of ideas but I can’t seem to focus on just one.



Maybe I should just explain one of my core philosophies of living to you. You see, I have a few basic premises that I operate under and these premises make my life manageable and for the most part, angst free. My favorite thing to say is “I’m not even worried about it.” It seems simple in theory, but in fact, most people do worry about it, whatever it is.



I realized a long time ago that there were some things in life you just can’t control. That moment, that exact moment, was an epiphany to me. I will tell you what happened. When I lived in our old house (which was in fact a new house when we built it), there were many kids in our neighborhood. It was a perfect place to start a new family as we all had big lawns and there wasn’t much street traffic. My kids were outside playing “tag” with the kids across the street when Keely tripped and fell and of course, broke her arm. At the time, we didn’t know that Keely would become the “queen of the broken arms” as this was her first, but by no means the last, broken arm. At any rate, she came in crying “my arm, my arm” and I’m looking at her face which is all scraped up and thinking “your face, your face.” In my opinion, a break will heal but a scar is forever, right? What does this have to do with anything you might be asking yourself? Good question. I realized that you tell your kids to be careful, not to run out in the street, not to jump off the swing set - all sorts of things but the fact is, shit happens. Accidents happen. It was at that point that I realized that we all sit around and worry that something is going to happen, something bad.



And we’re right. Something is always going to happen. The thing is, it’s never the thing you’ve been worrying about, it’s always something else. So we all sit around and worry about the 100 things that can go wrong and of course, it’s the 101st thing that goes wrong. So what’s the point? You can’t stop it. It’s going to happen. So I decided then and there (well, after getting her arm set of course, I mean I don’t totally suck as a human being), that I was going to stop worrying about all the things that I couldn’t control or impact. Of course I’m going to have my kids wear a bike helmet because that’s just basic common sense, but I’m not going to panic every time they get on a bike (I guess I should have with Keely as she broke her arms multiple times on a bike but that’s a story for another day) or go somewhere.



As I expanded my “I’m not even worried about it” philosophy, I realized that I could apply it to everything. I mean, we own a manufacturing company that’s in the housing industry. Needless to say, business has been bad but guess what, “I’m not even worried about it.” I mean, why should I? Kevin’s worried about it enough for us both. I can’t impact the economy, I don’t work in the business, what good will stressing about it do? So, I don’t. When the kids have medical problems, sure I have a momentary panic but then, we just go about seeing the professionals who can hopefully help and I move on with it.



This basic premise has changed my whole life. Kevin says it’s going to be the epithet on my headstone when I die (although I’m not sure I’m going to be buried because I hate worms and I really don’t want to spend eternity with them) because it truly is my mantra.



So you see, you too can change your life today. Worry about what you can change, or something whose outcome you can actually affect. All the other shit that life throws at you? Well, let’s all say it in unison.



“I’M NOT EVEN WORRIED ABOUT IT!”

In which i ponder

So today I was in kind of a melancholy mood and I was sitting in my office just hanging out inside my head. Now, trust me, that’s not a pretty place to hang out so after a long and whiney phone conversation with my “editor,” I decided the best thing I could do was take the dog outside and chill. My dog was out there eating grass so that he can come inside and puke on the most expensive object he could find, so I decided to check the mail instead.



Nothing good ever comes in the mail. It’s usually just a bunch of bills and as I think I’ve mentioned before, beaucoup catalogues. Today was obviously a slow catalog day as there were only three. At any rate, I’m sitting outside on the stoop, watching the dog mimic a goat and I started looking through the Williams –Sonoma Catalog. This is one catalog that I actually love perusing. On the back cover, there is an advertisement for “Star Wars sandwich cutters with vintage-style tin.” Seriously, STAR WARS sandwich cutters. I can’t believe it. Who in their right mind is going to spend $29.95 on a set of Star Wars sandwich cutters (with the vintage-style tin)? I realize that what I have in my hand is an entire catalog devoted to things that most people will never, ever have any need for. And yet, my kitchen is absolutely filled with all sorts of Williams-Sonoma appliances and the like.



I practically had to build a new house to accommodate the sheer number of individual appliances that Kevin MacDonald has gifted me with. The most recent gift was a blender, and it’s a nice one, but it’s just the latest in a long list that includes my Kitchen Aid mixer, my even better and bigger Kitchen Aid mixer, an amazing toaster oven, a waffle maker, a Mickey Mouse waffle maker, an electric griddle, a coffee maker, a really fancy coffee maker that I made him return and in a really unexpected and yet bold move, a Breville Panini Press. I got that one for Christmas last year.



Although I don’t make Paninis, don’t even really like them, I have discovered that the Panini press is in a league of its own. You can cook chicken, pork, burgers and even fish on the damn thing. It is one of the most useful appliances I have ever owned in my life. I have to say that for the first time, I really appreciate Kevin’s penchant for buying superfluous appliances. It makes me wonder what other great and underappreciated gems are lying in wait in the Williams-Sonoma catalog.



There’s the one on page 15: The Smoking Gun. With just one puff of this incredible device, you too can add an instant infusion of natural wood smoke – without any heat – to your favorite foods. Well, that’s something that I never thought of before. I’m making a note to myself to go up to Fresh Market and ask them if they’ll consider putting that infusion in to the many prepared meals that I buy up there. What? Did you think I was going to start cooking and use this shit myself?



Ok, I’m continuing on and page 18 has a deluxe slow cooker. I’m not really interested in something like this because it’s bad enough that I’m expected to cook, there’s no way in hell it’s going to take longer than it has to. Page 21 has a picture of yummy food on it. This is my favorite part of the catalog because normally the food looks so yummy that I ACTUALLY TEAR OUT THE RECIPE which is hilarious because the likelihood of me actually cooking said recipe is probably about the same as me becoming a super model, it’s just not happening. But I digress …



As I plow through the catalog, I realize that there is an entire echelon of living that I’m not experiencing. There’s the “perfect cup of coffee” coffee maker; the Caso “induction burner” (which apparently is a favorite of many “professional chefs”), the “Shun Classic rocking knife” that looks far prettier than my knives, but seriously WHY ARE THEY NECESSARY? On page 67, I discover that not only are the Star Wars Sandwich Cutters a must, but apparently you can buy Star Wars Cookie Cutters as well.



It seems that I have done a piss poor job of enjoying my life by using mediocre appliances, pots, pans and knives. Although I spend as little time as humanly possible actually using my kitchen for it’s intended purposes, I hereby vow to step up my game. I’m going to start by ordering some Star Wars sandwich cutters and packing up a lunch daily for Kevin and Daniel. Oh, I can make them Panini’s on my press and cut those up using the cutters. Writing this column has actually cheered me up so I suppose I owe a big thanks to Williams-Sonoma for providing me with some “fun” items to peruse. And you thought I didn’t like catalogues.



I’m just saying….

In which i discuss paperwork

As I sit here at my desk, I can see a huge pile of paperwork to my left just waiting to be addressed. I hate paperwork and I usually need to feel in a certain “mood” to attack it. I do the paperwork because after all, Kevin does work about 10 hours a day to provide for the family so I suppose it’s the least I can do. It’s also not on my “to do list” so I feel I should get bonus points for doing it. My rule of thumb has always been to let it pile up until it’s about two inches high. At that time, I feel like it’s probably time to do something about it so I sit down and attack it with a vengeance.



That strategy has always worked until the advent of Autopay. Now don’t get me wrong, I love, love, love Autopay and if everything in my life was like that, I would have no problems, but that’s not the case. Since about half my bills are Autopay, I have been receiving less mail. Ordinarily, I would tell you that’s a good thing but it seems like it’s taking longer and longer to reach the requisite two inches. As a result, bills are beginning to pile up. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about such a small thing as an “overdue” bill but the gas company apparently does. I didn’t realize they would actually turn off the gas until I went to take a shower and there was no hot water. I was all like WTF? Until I did a little research and it seemed a lack of payment was the issue. Can you believe they quibble about that crap? I had to show up IN PERSON at the gas company and clear that little mess up - and fast - before Kevin got home.



I would like to tell you that this is an isolated incident, but it’s not. The water has been cut off, the gas (as I said), and yesterday I got a “final notice of insurance termination” from my insurance company about our car insurance. It seems companies are less than thrilled with my bill paying methodology. I have since had to accommodate this issue by lowering the two inch rule to about an inch. However, as I glance left I see about three inches there so I suppose we could be in trouble.



Then there’s all the medical shit which is in a separate pile. I feel that the entire goal of the medical insurance industry is to make people feel like morons. You have your co-pay and that’s all good. But sometimes, there is no co-pay and you have to submit your bills directly to the company. At this point, they ask for documentation and try to intimidate you into forgetting about the whole damn thing. But if you decide to soldier on, then they try to screw with your head by confusing you about where you are in the reimbursement process.



This is bad enough with the normal wear and tear of life but Keely had a major medical problem last year so I’m completely covered with medical paperwork (it has its’ own two inch stack). So I pay the bill I’m sent from Duke Hospital, and then I get a check back from them saying I’ve overpaid. So I cash the check and guess what, I get another goddamn bill. Then I got another reimbursement and another bill. I’m so baffled at this point that I don’t even know where we are with the medical stuff so I’ve just moved the pile to the right and decided to only look left. It seems like a great plan to me although last night Kevin told me “the office is a mess.” A mess? Let him quit his “day job” and try to deal with this shit.



So that’s my views on paperwork. Well, I suppose I’ve put off the inevitable long enough. I’m going to get some coffee, fuel up and dig into the paperwork. If you don’t hear from me in about five minutes, just wait longer…