Not Quite a Balanced Meal But...

The last few weeks have been a bit crazy to say the least. Overall, it's been good stuff but running around like a chicken (or turkey?) with its head cut off can catch up to you. In fact, it’s part of the reason I threw my laptop to the wayside and swore off most technology for a week.

And then there was Thanksgiving.

I’m not sure when I was last in the north woods of Wisconsin with my family for Thanksgiving. New York and Spain sort of got in the way. And I definitely have no idea when my oldest sister and I managed to be there at the same time. But this year, the whole fam, including significant others and a peanut of a niece were present for the feast. As we prepared, I happily set the table and couldn’t help but smile when I arranged my niece’s place setting. (By the way, check out the missing roll. Someone just couldn’t wait.) My mom thought it was important for Autumn to eat off of the good china like the rest of us, considering that Little Miss is quite insistent these days that she is a “big girl." However, her tiny spoon and fork and the farm animal plastic cup alongside the china quickly reminded me that despite her “big girl” status, she is barely out of toddlerhood. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness, considering all of the times she has wanted me to play in recent months and I’ve been unable to due to a ringing cell phone or an expectant email sitting in my inbox.

Damn technology.

Well, okay, not really. I love the fact that it makes my life easier in so many ways. I’m glad that I can easily shoot off an email or a text to quickly communicate my need/desire/question/answer. But I also know that next year, the tiny spoon and fork will most likely be gone. So I happily threw my phone into my purse and did not look at it for a full ten hours. Instead, I sat down for a wonderful feast with my family, played Go Fish, ate some more, and played a little harder. Now today it’s back to work and I’m happy to do it. Who knew that a day of gluttony could lead one to feel so balanced?

ppp;

Since I've returned to Wisconsin and have had ample opportunity to hang out with family, I've been highly involved in the toilet training process of my now three-year-old niece. It really does take a village. We encouraged, we enticed, we begged, we bribed, we cheered, we even performed the occasional happy dance. And after a lot of (literal) hand holding and sprinting to the bathroom upon hearing the phrase, "I go pee now!" I think we may have actually gotten to the point of (dare I even say it?) success.

Funny, then, upon visiting a friend, I have found myself in the throes of potty training again. However, this time, our trainee is a six-week-old kitten. Separated from his mother too early, he wasn't able to learn from her how to use a litter box. Now my friend is trying to figure out how in the world to teach this little puffball to tinkle in the litter pan and not on her bedroom carpet. We spent last night, repeatedly putting him in his litter box and hoping something would click.

"He hasn't gone all day," my friend said, gently grabbing him as he scampered out of the box and placing him back in.

But there's only so many times you can put a highly energized kitten into a litter box only to watch him pop out as if on a miniature spring. Despite our best, "PEE IN THE BOX!" mental messages, the little guy was way more interested in playing than taking the time to pee. Hmm, sounded like a certain three-year-old I know.

A short while later as I was washing my face in the bathroom, I heard my friend shriek, "Not the curtains!"

Her beautiful, billowy drapes which just grace the floor now had a pee soaked oval on them. She sunk to the floor with her new best friend, Resolve, and went to work for the umpteenth time.

Both cat people, we discussed other possible training methods and finally developed a new plan which entails keeping him in the bathroom all day (for some reason, cats tend not to soil tile or linoleum, saving their pee and puke for your oriental rug instead) with a very shallow litter pan. Limited space can only mean a higher likelihood of success, right?

However, if any of you cat people have great ideas for a gal and her incontinent fuzzball, we'd welcome the advice. Okay, it's time for me to put him in the box again. If I can help teach a strong-willed three-year-old, I can certainly do my part with a half pound fuzzball...right?

Oh, and by the way, that title? Yeah, his doing. Apparently we all have P on the brain.

TIME, TIME!!

It's probably already rather evident but I can get the teensiest bit obsessed with the allotment of my time. In fact, this song has been running through my head lately for no reason except for the "Time! Time!" bit (as if I don't already have the reminder in my head to watch the clock and get AS MUCH DONE AS POSSIBLE in one day). I can't help it. I've never understood the phrases, "I'm bored" or "I don't know what to do with myself." There's always about 382 things I want to do at any given moment.

Because of this, I tend to cram in a whole lot into a tiny amount of time. I mean, did I really just make a plan to visit three different cities in one week's time? Come on, I'm not backpacking through Europe anymore! And of course, now in preparation for these trips, I'm got 600 more things added to my "to do" list. And don't even remind me that Thanksgiving is around the corner.

(Sigh)

So it's no surprise that I haven't been a very good friend lately. I've been rather in my head, trying to sort out a whole lot of stuff. Definitely not as present as I'd like to be. But yesterday, I was thrown back into reality. A dear friend of mine was having a really awful day. Already riled up with work related stress, things snowballed when she began to feel physically ill and by the end of the day, she was in hysterics. Although I hate to hear anyone I love so upset, I was so glad that she had reached out and called me. Not only was I happy to hear her out but her tears also helped ground me. Suddenly, travel plans really weren't so important. What was important was that I made myself available to her. Right then, in that moment. I was present.

So I listened. I agreed with the unfairness of her work situation. I listened to her cry and I let her know that I would be there for her the next day, too, if she needed it. So here we are the next day with a plan for yoga this evening and burgers, fries, and chocolate malts to follow. (What the hell? Sometimes a gal has to let it all go.)

And suddenly, my time feels much more valuable. You know, like those cow bell ringing Chamber Brothers said.

Now the time has come. There are things to realize. Time has come today. Time has come today....TIME! TIME!

For the Sake of My Physical Well-Being, Please Vote

Someone recently asked me if I was campaigning for any of the political candidates this year. My immediate reaction was, Are you kidding me? Aren't there enough people doing that?

'Tis the season for Americans to be slammed with a litany of ads everywhere they turn. Even if you turn off the TV and the radio, those faces will make their way into your mailbox. They might even knock right into you on the street. I hadn't realized how bad the phone campaign had gotten until a recent dinner with my parents at their place. A relatively calm household otherwise, our conversation was interrupted every five minutes by the phone. They knew best to ignore the incessant ringing the best they could. (After close inspection, it appears as though their phone ringer cannot be completely turned off. What a shame.) But after a while, we could only stare at one another, all thinking the same thing. After the 40th phone call, does that campaigner on the other end really think our enraged state will allow us to to hear anything they say, no matter how calm and rational it may be?

I was thinking about all of this last night while I was running on the treadmill. I was ticked off for my parents who haven't been able to enjoy a peaceful night in weeks but of course, I was even more concerned about the outcome of these elections. With a pretty even split of liberals and conservatives, you never know how Wisconsin is going to go. One of my sisters, who lives out of state, recently exclaimed to me on the phone, "But at least you're back in Wisconsin! It needs your vote!"

True. And as I Wanna Be Sedated came up on my Ipod which seemed so appropriate for the way I wanted to spend the next twenty-four hours (hopefully not the next two years), I got so revved up that I accidentally began to run too fast, leading me to trip on the frame of the treadmill and nearly fly off the damn thing. As I caught my breath and tried to keep my political panic in check, I reminded myself that in twenty, twenty, twenty-four hours from that moment, we'd at least be done wondering and could start preparing for changes.

So I'm off to the polls soon to take some action. I don't wear enough stickers these days anyway. Besides I'm really looking forward to a peaceful dinner at my Mom and Dad's. Phone, be still. My mother's apple pie alone deserves full attention.