Wending My Way Through the Internet and Avoiding Krakens

Have you ever been driving somewhere and suddenly turned off of your track on purpose?

As writer, I frequently find myself going "down the rabbit hole," as a friend put it last week.  At the time she said it, I was researching for a new short story.  I got on YouTube (fatal mistake) looking for videos of sharks beaching themselves.  As I kept getting distracted by the exciting titles of other videos that turned out to be *nothing,* I clicked my way right into an hour of "kraken sightings."

I had to laugh at myself.  Ultimately, I'm sure a kraken will show up in one of my stories as a result.

But today was different!  As I was driving around on the internet highway, I saw a great big souvenir shop with the words "FAMILY HISTORY!" in neon lights.  I jerked the car onto the next exit ramp intentionally.  Want to ride with me?  Here's how it happened:

1.  I was checking a link on a government website, because it was included in an article I wrote in January.  When you write articles for the internet, it's a really good idea to update them and make sure your links are still good from time to time.  But instead of this one being about National Hot Tea Month, the page was now some announcement related to hydroelectricity.  Instead of simply updating the link and moving on, I listened to that voice in my head that said, "Oooh!  Something shiny!  Pull over; pull over!"

2.  I thought of my great-grandfather, an engineer, who built the first hydroelectric plant in North America (Canada, specifically), or so I thought.  But right there in black and white, it said that Thomas Edison had built the first such plant in the world, and it was in Appleton, WI around 1880.  That is definitely in North America, too.  And it's definitely 40 years or more before my great-grandfather's project.  All right, I said to myself.  Gotta get my facts straight.  Right now.  Al Gore did not invent the internet, and my great-grandfather didn't build the first hydroelectricity plant in North America.

2.  I Googled my great-grandfather.  I clicked on an article on file in a SC library where a historian had synopsized letters between my great-grandfather and a couple of his brothers.  I learned that one of my grandfather's first cousins was institutionalized in various Sanitariums.  I learned that while my great-grandfather and family lived in Charlotte, the farm house back in SC was rented to a man who had to be turned out.  Reason?  96 broken window panes.  I'm guessing that the man was shooting up the house.  That's just the "fun" stuff.

3.  I decided I needed to send this link, by email, to my cousins.  Their grandfather was quoted in the article, too.

Now I was faced with a decision, though . . . continue meandering and proceed to Ancestry.com, or get back to work?  Work, it was.  (Here's the part where I impress myself.) I actually clicked back through every stop I had made along the way, and without getting lost.  What's more, I accomplished my business at each stop.  And, here at the end of the work day, I have actually posted a new article online and managed to get some work done, despite rabbit hole diving!  No kraken sightings today.

So, I found out that what my grandfather's father built was most likely the first hydroelectric plant in Canada, not North America.  (I probably could have just asked my dad, but then it would have been over with in 60 seconds or fewer.)  I learned more intriguing family history.  I made contact with some dear family members.  I proofed old articles and updated them.  I wrote and posted a new article on the internet, and am working on the next one already.  And now, friends, I have also blogged.  It's a good day in this writer's world.

Keep It At Home

“Buy American,” friends and relatives have told me over the years.  Nodding my head in agreement, I would think to myself, If only I had time to look.  When you’re in a hurry, it’s not usually a good time to start a new habit.  But even during times when I wasn’t that busy, I would forget to check to see where merchandise was made.

Until recently.

The recalls on dangerous products made in China have been mounting over the last several years.  Our economy is still in the gutter.  People are still losing jobs and homes.  Crime is on the rise as more people become desperate.  A  comeback will rely, in part, on putting Americans back to work.  Decreasing our imports and increasing our exports would be a great start.  But major retailers here need to get the message first:  We want to buy American.  I think many people are like me:  they think buying American is a great idea, but don’t have the time to stop and think about something else in their hectic lives.  But I have resolved to do my part by buying more American goods.

I was shoe shopping recently.  Here is what I found:  Made in China, Made in China, Made in China, Made in China, Made in China, Made in China, OH! Made in Italy!, Made in China, Made in China, Made in China, Made in China, Aha!  Made in India!, Made in China . . . you get the picture.  Not one pair made in the U.S.A.  Now, shoes made in America are a bit harder to find than some other products.  But walk into any big store and look for most any product.  Wal-Mart, Tuesday Morning, or any other, and just walk around and take inventory.  What you will find may shock you.  It shocked me.

I recently did this when shopping for toys, clothing, bed linens, towels, picture frames, scrapbooking supplies, gift items, greeting cards, and a few other things.  Almost everything I picked up was made in China.  There were a few things made in India, Pakistan, or Thailand.  There were a very few made right here in the red, white, and blue.  We are literally pouring our hard-earned paychecks into other countries (mainly the communist People’s Republic of China).

Please understand that I am not anti-China, nor am I saying we should not buy any products made outside the U.S.A.  That would be pretty much impossible, or very difficult.  Check out one man’s mission to use only American products for 30 days here:  http://www.usa30days.com/

I just think, in this instance, that we should take care of our own before we take care of others.  I understand that products from China are much less expensive, but nine times out of ten, the quality is also inferior.

Trying to go “cold turkey” on American-made items is overwhelming, though.  Pick one or two suggestions from the list below to ease yourself into the habit.

1.        When shopping online, add “Made in USA” to your search terms.

2.       Pick one or two categories.  For example, tell yourself you will only buy toys or clothes made in the U.S.A. 

3.       If you have time while shopping, start checking products before you place them in your basket.  Make an effort to put more “Made in the U.S.A.” items in your basket than items made in any other country.  You might pay a little more, but it’s worth it. 

4.       Buy from local artisans.  Even if they use some materials from another country, the labor is still local!   

5.       Buy from neighbors with home-based businesses (like Premier Designs Jewelry, Thirty-One Gifts, Partylite, etc.), even if some of their products are made in China . . . you are still helping an American company, and helping your neighbor who is working hard at her home-based business.

That’s a start, and you are helping a fellow American keep his or her job for another day.

Americans will work hard.  We just need the freedom to do so.

Need a few resources to help you get started?

www.americansworking.com

http://www.madeinusa.org/

http://www.toysmadeinamerica.com/

http://www.squidoo.com/toysnotfromchina#module90925701

How about you?  Do you try to buy American?  Do you have any favorite American-made products?

Duckbilled Platypus and Other Problems

I am happy to report that I got over my sprained foot with little trouble.  All is well, and I am wearing all my shoes now.  But not all at one time.  You know what I mean.

The temporary immobility did cause me some stress, and I started to wage my annual Christmas Sinusitis battle.  I won last year, and I am bound and determined to win again this year.  Two years ago, it took me out flat.  We were moving into a new house, all my inlaws were scheduled to arrive about 10 days after we moved in, and I had a sinus infection so bad that my nose looked and felt broken.  Oh, and my grandfather died in the middle of all that, too.  When I spoke, I sounded like I had a clothespin on my nose.  That was a good day, when I actually had a voice.  A few months later, after two rounds of antibitotics and steroids, I emerged from the fog.  But it wasn't until the following summer that I could actually sing with the radio.  My voice was the last thing to return fully.

So when I coughed a few days ago and thought I heard a hint of congestion, I rolled my eyes and lined up all my meds and vitamins on the counter.  This evening, my husband asked me if I actually knew what all I took today.  Yes, I did, and I listed them for him.  He said my kidneys and liver are working overtime right now, which is fine with me if I can beat this thing.  And by the way, I am winning so far.  Benadryl, Flonase, ibuprofen, Airborne, Vitamin C and others are all in the fight now.  I think the Sinusitis knows it's going down.

And so it flank attacked me and gave me a cold sore.  One good lick before it went down for the year.  Just one good punch to remind me who's boss and say, "I'll be back next year.  Here's something to remember me by.  Merry Christmas."

Definitely the worst one I have ever had, this cold sore has managed to swell the lower part of my face over the last couple of days.  My husband and I have amused ourselves with the fact that I have the appearance of a Duckbilled Platypus.  Oh well, we have to find the humor in it somewhere, right?

I was not to be deterred from winning the battle, one way or another.  Sunday morning found me at the urgent care facility run by my doctors' office.  Now you can add an anti-viral I can't pronounce to that list of medications on the counter.  Thank goodness, this pesky thing has had a short life and is on the way out.  I'm just thankful that all the Christmas parties were last week, when I could hobble in with a simple sprained foot and enjoy them.  If they had been scheduled for this week, I most certainly would have missed them.  "I'm sorry we can't come to your party.  I have the appearance of a Duckbilled Platypus."  They would have thought I was making it up.

What's Your Favorite Holiday Tune?

Have you ever listened to the song “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” and wondered, Who wrote that, and what were they smoking?
I may sound cynical, but it’s hard to be of good cheer sometimes when you are elbowing your way through a Black Friday sale and someone starts pepper spraying the other shoppers in order to get a hold of an Xbox.
That’s to say nothing of the strain that holidays seem to create within families. Someone’s upset because you didn’t include Aunt Bertha in your Christmas Eve dinner. Last year, she talked everyone’s ear off (a little too loudly) after drinking all your egg nog and told you your turkey was too dry and your dining room décor “needs some work, but has potential.” Your children found all their gifts in the back of your closet. Somebody lays on a guilt trip by reminding you that they always have to eat Christmas dinner at the Waffle House because you can only visit them on Christmas Eve, never on Christmas Day. The whole month of December is a frenzy of parties, cooking, shopping, wrapping, making lists, checking them twice, decorating, going to programs and events . . . it can be really hard to find the joy in it when you’re so busy.

All the while, we pump ourselves full of holiday food and drink. What we need to get through this season is energy. We should all be going on vegetarian diets. Want something to pull you through with the stamina you need? Try broccoli and bananas! Some steamed veggies and legumes will put you right. But no, we sap our own energy with sweets galore, and more. Pass the rum balls; I think I'm losing my buzz.
Now the person who wrote “The Carol of the Bells” really captured the actual tone of the holiday season. That would be terror, of course. It stresses me out just listening to it. My best friend calls it “panic set to music.” It starts like an alarm clock honking in your ear in the dark, cool quiet of morning on a Monday morning. Then it crescendoes early, as if you have remembered that you have an important presentation in front of all your bosses in your 8am meeting, rendering you too nervous to eat breakfast, too shaky to drink coffee. The drums come in with their ominous BOM-BADA BADA BOM-BADA BADA so you know something wicked this way comes. By the time the violins kick in, I’m ready to start crying and screaming. “Nooooooo! Not Christmas!!!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

It maintains a minor key throughout. It’s like theme music from a horror movie. It bears a striking resemblance to the music from the Halloween movies.  My three year old son put it best about “Carol of the Bells.” “Mommy,” he said, “that song sounds mad and scary.” Yes. Yes, it does. At its loudest, it makes me feel desperate. My heart pounds. My fists clench. I feel like I am running away from a T. Rex on a rocky plain. He’s getting closer and closer and I keep falling and bruising my knees on the rocks. Now, you can fill in the blank here; perhaps your T. Rex is your inlaws, your parents, your sister, whomever.
The repetetive pattern of the song, to me, suits the whirlwind and pace of the holiday season. The same four notes are repeated over and over. If I were an imprisoned terrorist, I would be easy to break. All they would have to do is shine a bright light on me and play “Carol of the Bells” loudly. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” I would scream. The song itself sounds like insanity.

Now, if y’all don’t mind, I am going to enjoy a Holiday Spice coffee and some Candy Cane Hershey Kisses while I wrap some gifts. And chase them with a Pepcid AC and a fifth of vodka.

The Birthday Blog

My birthday is coming up.  I will be enjoying the last year of my thirties, starting next week.

Some folks can't stand their birthdays.  Don't want them acknowledged.  Hide under the bed until the day is over, and hope that no one sends them a card, much less black balloons.  I say this is silly!  Celebrate yourself.  No matter what your circumstances, you have survivied another year on this planet.  And that's something to pat yourself on the back for.  Laugh.  Have coffee with a friend.  Eat a piece of cake (or some other treat, if you are on a gluten-free diet).  Take a walk or see a movie.  Get a massage or that new leaf blower you've been eyeing at Home Depot.

But whatever you do, don't let the day pass without being kind to yourself.  Wait, don't click on the x and leave me now . . . listen.  All the things I mentioned are really nice, but I saved the best for last.  Do something for someone else.  Yes, someone else.  If you are able, spend the day volunteering at a local soup kitchen or the Salvation Army.  Offer to do yardwork for an elderly person, or cook something for a homeless shelter.  When you take your heart and mind off of yourself for a moment and put someone else first, it can feel really, really good.  Serve someone else from your heart.  And that's the BEST gift you can give to yourself.

A Trail of Tears is now a trail of toys

For some reason, I still have a good many of my textbooks from law school.  I have gotten shed of many, but there remain a few that I "might want to refer to" at some point: Contracts, Admiralty, Corporations, Commercial Law, Elder Law, Wills, and about 586 others.  Seriously, though, they occupy a bookshelf in the corner of the playroom.  Do I look at them?  Not really.  I don't even dust them.

So today we are playing in the playroom, and Sam decides to take a few books down to make a sidewalk across the room.  And a few more, and a few more, and pretty soon, half the bookshelf is empty.  Now the books comprise a whole interstate system which a toy 18-wheeler is traversing.  *Sigh* At least those books are good for something now.  That toy truck's journey is a whole lot more interesting and fun than the journey I made with those books.  All $10,000 worth of them.  Yep, mine was a trail of tears across what is now the Torts and Con Law Freeway of the playroom floor.

Would you like fries and friendship with that?

There's a growing trend in America.  In this downward spiral of an economy, a few companies have gotten a clue as to how to retain their customers.  There are a few banks riding this enhanced customer service wave, as are stores like Publix and Walgreen's.  Publix employees have obviously been trained to go one step beyond "service with a smile."  They always make conversation as they slice deli meat or run the cash register.  It makes it a really pleasant place to shop.  I look forward to going in there and interacting with the warm, lovely people.

And Walgreen's?  Shoot, I KNOW the ladies in Walgreen's.  I mean, we ask about each other's family members, talk about local news, talk about our hobbies and interests.  When you feel like the person who is taking money out of your hand really cares about you as a person, it makes you ten times more likely to go back and hand them more money at a later date.

This is smart business.

So when my three-year-old and I drove up to the bank window the other day, we were greeted by name by a lady we see frequently (Lisa).  Another lady (Susan) heard her greeting us and came over to say hello as well.
Lisa:  Hi, Sam!  Are you ready for Halloween?
Sam:  Yes, I am going to be Michael! (confused look on Lisa's face follows, then short explanation from me - he means Michael the Archangel)
Lisa:  Good for you!
Susan (waving enthusiastically):  Hey, Sam!
Sam:  Oh!  Hi, other lady!

Other lady?!  I said, "Sam, that's Ms. Susan!  And Ms. Lisa!"  Of course, they thought it was hilarious.  Just like it's hilarious when Sam's little friends come up to me and say, "Um, Sam's Mom, can Sam come to my house and play?"  Sam's Mom.  That's my name, don't wear it out.

But in this day and age of impersonal computer interaction and big cities getting bigger, it's wonderful to know that the people you do business with know who you are on some level.  And the small town service that used to be commonplace so many years ago is coming back.  I like it.

I remember a friend telling me about 15 years ago that she was talking to her banker on the phone one day at approximately 4:55pm.  My friend was to take something to the bank, but it would be closed by the time she got there.  "It's okay," her banker told her.  "Just knock on the back door and I'll let ya in." 

In a day and age of struggling to keep shop doors open, all businesses can take a lesson from this.  Exceptional customer service:  it's what's for dinner.