Some Whine With My Coffee

As I was reminded by our own weather this past weekend, it has been six years since the name "Katrina" came to mean something more than a version of "Katherine".

Six.  Years.

Seems incredible what has - and hasn't - changed in that span of time.

Did you know that the lawsuits that began shortly after Katrina slammed into the Gulf are still being argued in courts?  That it wasn't all that long ago that the "temporary trailers" meant to provide relief for a brief amount of time while rebuilding and relocating occurred were FINALLY hauled away?  It's so hard to believe.  I still glance at the online overhead map of Gulfport and Biloxi, just to virtually visit the streets, neighborhoods, and parks that I spent so many hours driving by.  Much has changed.  But, again, much has not.

And now we have had "Irene".  Our immediate area was spared any real hardship and I understand that the remainder of folks who live in my state will have power restored by the end of this week.  Honestly, the Awesome Boyfriend and I weren't put out at all by Irene's winds or rains whatsoever.  We *just missed* having one of our vehicles damaged by an awfully large chuck of tree - but that was really the only close call we had.  (For that matter, the tree chunk could have also fallen on the corner of the house too - but, again, it didn't.)  Irene was kind to us.

All that being said, it doesn't take a mental giant to say that Irene WAS quite a storm to our neighbors to the  North.  Flood waters have changed creeks to rivers, washed away roads and bridges and housing, caused fires and turned connected streets into virtual islands onto themselves.  The death toll started at four ... and then nine ... and then it was into the teens ... and now it has reached 40.  Damage estimates are between $5 billion and $7 billion.  I listened to those numbers as I pulled into the parking lot to get my coffee.  I tried to wrap my head around all those zeros as I stood in line.

My concentration of counting zeros (cut me some slack ... I was doing math with NO coffee in me yet) was broken as I became aware of a buzzing behind me.  A whiny, complaining sound ... "me me me me" it seemed to repeat.  There was a well-dressed man in the line behind me who was going on about how stupid all the warnings and cautions and advance preparation and evacuations had been.  About how, in the end, nothing storm-related had happened to anyone in his neighborhood and that Irene was very much ado about nothing at all.  A non-event.  About how put-upon he'd been to prepare during his precious down-time for a little bit of wind and rain that caused no damage whatsoever.

While he went on (and on and on and on), I thought to myself that perhaps he is a member of emergency personnel and, as such, was running on no sleep and had finally just lost his patience.  I thought that perhaps he has a family member fighting for their lives in a hospital and just needed something to vent about.  Maybe he is worried about his employment ... or had an ugly commute ...  In my mind, I gave him every excuse to behave so boorishly and I tried (not very hard but I DID try) to ignore his seeming disappointment at the lack of Irene-caused destruction.

As the line continued to move forward and we approached the counter, I recognized the employee running the register.  Being a regular at this establishment, I knew from our conversation the previous day that she lived with her parents and that they'd lost power early Saturday morning.  When we spoke Monday, she said the power company told her that they'd do their best to restore it soon but to prepare for being without power for the week.  Looking at her lack of usual makeup and not-as-neatly-coiffed hairstyle, I guessed that she was still without power.

I was just one person away from paying for my order when I heard the comment "honestly, this whole storm-centered weekend was a complete waste of  my energy.  I'd sue someone for the loss of my personal time because of this 'non-storm' if I could."  And hearing that did it.  Hearing that released my "whiny moron response button".  With the fresh estimated damage cost and death toll data still swirling in my head and the image of this cashier and her family losing their hot showers and stored refrigerated food for the week, I handed her my personal cup for my order and then turned around to meet the scowling unhappy gaze of this man ... the source of the unending monologue of woe.

"I heard this morning", I said with as much of an expressionless face I could muster, "that the death toll is 40 and probably rising and the damage estimate is between $5 to $7 billion. How many people would have needed to die for it to have been a more 'worthwhile' storm for you?"


I honestly did want a response.  I wasn't trying to shut him down completely and I really wasn't passing any judgement upon him.  I'm sure his neighborhood WAS completely untouched and that is it totally possible he had no idea that lives were lost and that massive property damage had occurred.  I actually was asking for his parameters because I was curious - at what body count number or dollar amount would his preparation been worthwhile to him?

Unfortunately I'll never know.  My coffee order was ready and he had walked to the opposite corner of the waiting line area without a response.

Blah blah blah blaaah blah

Possible impending weather?  Blah.  Earth movements where they don't typically happen?  Blah.  Health?  Yeah, but blah.  Family updates and pics and news and whatnot?  Blah.

Somedays even the MOST upbeat, the most positive, the most "sunny side" people you'd ever wanna meet  (even to tell them to stop it) just have a random "blah" day.

Today is my day, I guess.

Blah.

It's A Gift

I've shared here before that I am a horrible gift-giver, except not in the traditional way.  I find these great little somethings, at all ends of the cost spectrum, and if the gift and the recipient are a particularly good fit, I nearly ALWAYS feel compelled to give the gift well before the intended day.

And you can turn up my anticipation knob to 11 when the gift recipient is The Awesome Boyfriend.

Now lots of people insist that their significant other is also their very best friend.  I've just always been the kind of person that has lots of close friends - folks from different areas of my life (work, family, school, neighborhood, hobby) - who I could share with.  But moving across the country took away a lot of those outlets for me ... so it is rather new to me that I have one very best friend, and he just happens to be the man I share my life with.  I continue to be outright astonished with just how well we get along with each other (and it can't be easy for him, as I can be quite mercurial at times).

So anyway ... I've been looking for this thing ... this item ... for awhile now.  Not quite a year but for a significant length of time.  I thought I had it worked out at one point, but I was mistaken.  Then I found an alternate solution but ... again, no dice.  Well I was clicking around this morning on the computer and one site led to another (as often happens) and *blam* there it was.  "Hey - looking for this?" the site asked.

I nodded slowly, dumbstruck at my luck.

"Well we're the source.  Give us a call."

I dialed.  The line rang once ... twice ... and then "hello?"

My voice trembling I asked if what I'd seen was accurate.  "Yep, it's true."  "May I ask the cost?" I said, wincing in anticipation of the probable response.  A number was given.  I pondered my options and within moments the deal was done.

I hung up the phone and ... frustration set in.  I can't share my most excellent gift with my best friend ... yet.  Which means I can't share it here, either ... yet.

But soon.  Oh so very soon.

Weight A Second

For me, it all started with the microwave.

I remember the box sitting on the counter, the classes my mother took, the "recipes" (and I use that word that very hesitantly) in the instruction manual, the warnings about not standing too close or immediately open the door when the unit shut down ... and I remember the wonder of being able to cook - or, more accurately, heat - items in less than half the the time of traditional methods.

Instant rice.  Instant oatmeal.  Fax machines.  Copier machines.  Instant messaging.  Text messaging.  Flying across the entire country in a matter of hours.  We are a people who enjoy a longer lifespan than our great-great relatives could have ever considered and yet we feel compelled to bitch about how long the red light takes to change or roll our eyes at how much time we waste waiting for our iced, short, triple breve shots, extra whip, half-caf, almond soy mocha ... with sprinkles.  And fudge-drizzle sauce.

And - to me, at least - the second-worst offenders of this "gimme now" demand are the companies who sell instant fixes to non-instant problems ... the diet-pill/diet-shake manufacturers.   The worst offenders?  The ones at the top of that list?  The people who buy their crap.

If you are overweight - and I am, for what I'd PREFER to look like - did your body change in a week?  In three weeks?  In six?  No - of course not.  Barring extreme circumstances and/or pregnancy, you slowly added a few ounces here and a few ounces there until you had to change the size of the pants you were buying.  It took lots of months.  Hell, it probably took years.

So why do people feel that they can buy a pill or a shake or - and this may be my favorite snake-oil ever - a fat-eliminating creme (*snork*) and, in less than a month, ta-dah there's your 24-year old body once again?!

Why?  Because of instant rice, instant oatmeal, fax and copier machines, instant and text messaging, and the microwave.  We want it all and we wanted it 4 minutes ago.  It's what THIS generation has always had.  It's not instant gratification ... it's more like instant expectation.  I mean - who actually waits for the elevator doors to close on their own anymore?  Why would you do that, since there's a button that will close the doors for you faster than the sensor would do so?

Well, to everyone who is starving themselves, putting themselves through surgeries, slurping down nasty-tasting crap and slathering on cellulite-reducing lotions, my advice is to slow down, take a deep breath, throw out your scales and calorie-counters and measuring cups, toss your secret cookie stash (yeah - you thought no one knew about that, didn't ya'?) and just give yourself a break.  Yes, if you've decided to get your weight in check, you should do so but - just like you took the time to add pounds, give yourself permission to take time to loose them.
And whatever else you decide to do - for cryin' out loud - stop trying to find the instant fix to a non-instant problem.  Close your mouth AND your wallet and just open your brain.  Even if all you ever do is develop a morning routine of stretches or leave a table without clearing your plate or stop asking for dessert after every meal or take the stairs instead of the elevator ... it will be a step in the right direction.  And from there, you can add another step and another.  Because that's how it all started.

The solution really does need to come from YOU - not a pill, or creme or any of that oh-so-tempting crap that folks are so eager to have you believe.  If the easy-solution that you may be considering worked forever for everyone who tried it, the entire weight loss market would have just that one option, right?  Clearly there is no "one-size-fits-all" solution to this issue.  This will just be one of those things where you'll need patience and persistence, strength and conviction, determination and forgiveness, and if you set reachable goals for yourself ... well, just weight and see.