WDWDWF (What Did We Do Without Facebook)

During these weeks that fly by with such crazy speed, I find it harder and harder to keep up with life, emotions, and the state of the world. I have not watched the news in months. I stay connected with morsels of information from Chris, whatever pops up in my Facebook feed, and the few moments I am at my desk at work with glances to see what is happening on CNN on the television in our area. Not too connected you might say?

Well, Facebook always tells me when a famous person dies, with friend’s status updates stating: “RIP, ________.” Or if there has been a plane crash, weather disaster, or incident in the world, my Facebook feed might say: “You are in my thoughts, ________.” I even know what job, home, or city my friends would be suited for based on the quiz they just took and shared. Or what level of Candy Crush they just completed. And, worst of all, whatever product I just searched for on Google, will now show up in my Facebook feed as a “Suggested Post.” So the news just follows me, I rarely have to go find it.

I almost forgot, I started following the No Poo group on Facebook, and now every other post is about someone who has failed or succeeded at removing toxic shampoos and conditioners from their personal care routine. Don’t get me wrong I have learned tons of new insights, but it is a lot of information and crazy amounts of people chattering on my Facebook feed. How to dye hair and stay “no poo”, how to get rid of frizzy hair and not use toxic product, how to start out on low poo, or mothers that have never washed their kid’s hair. I can only imagine what other “groups” discuss and at what frequency. It is like Dear Abby on steroids on every topic imaginable.

At the end of the day, some of it is worthless, some of it is so-so news, and some of it is just hilarious. WDWDWF? (What Did We Do Without Facebook)? We sent more texts, emails, and picked up the phone and talked to each other. Go figure. Before that we wrote letters (yes, I miss the lost art of letter writing). These days the only items I get in the mail are junk and bills. An occasional letter, yes, but that is the exception.

In any case, I am grateful that it is Friday as I look forward to a few extra hours of sleep tomorrow, time to catch up on emails, clean my house, run some errands and eventually curl up with a good book. Not too much to ask right? Oh, and I will probably take a few moments to peruse the mindless chatter on Facebook. Either it will be a waste of my time, or I will laugh, share, and like what you have bestowed on my feed.

Stories, reading, and my mom.

I never remember my mom reading books, and yet I think she would if she had the time. Often she worked all day, had a second job, helped us with our homework, made our meals, cleaned the house. As many moms out there know, it is a thankless job, and yet I never remember my mom complaining. She stayed up all hours of the night for months to make our Christmas presents so that we would have something to unwrap under the tree. I did not know that at the time, and yet thinking back on the gifts she made for us I know the countless hours it took for her to pull it all off. If she was purchasing the gift she would put it on layaway months and months in advance and diligently go and pay a little more each week until it was finally paid off. This was before she had a credit card so it was the only way she was ever able to get gifts under the tree.

She was the epitome of stretching things to make ends meet. While I never saw her reading books, I always saw her studying the Bible, our church books, and praying. She read those periodicals voraciously. She was adamant that we all read well and, while I do not remember when I started to read, I rarely got in trouble for staying up to read with the flashlight. She must have known that one day I would figure out that I could either get sleep and feel rested or not and pay for it the next day.

While I do not remember my mom pushing me to read, I think she gently encouraged reading and knew I escaped into a book often as a kid. My home life was not the greatest place, and somehow I would jump into the plot of a book, and I could transport myself into a whole different realm. We were her guinea pigs while she was getting her Masters degree in Education. We would read excerpts and have to answer questions and I absolutely HATED the reading comprehension tests she made us take for her classwork. I hated it just as much on the SATs. I like reading, but I hated regurgitating it later with a list of questions.

As I think about storytelling, reading, and the passion I have for stories, I have a smile on my face. My brother-in-law makes up stories for my 2 month old niece and I know that she will have the adventure of story in her life. While I will not make her take practice reading comprehension tests, I know she will carry on the tradition of voraciously reading, like her mom and my mom. Stories let us live an entirely different life, if even for just a few moments.

My mom was a badass. I only wish she knew it. Maybe she did, I will never know.

I’m only speeding because I have to poop.

I was the kid on the road trip that constantly whined: “Dad, I have to go to the bathroom.” Sometimes there was an urgency that my father did not share with me. Maybe I have a small bladder, but I struggled to be able to hold it in for a long period of time. At times I think my dad was frustrated with me and the constant hourly announcement that I needed to bless a gas station or rest area with my presence. Maybe it is a girl thing, but when I have to go, I have to go. As a kid I know my father’s impatience with me occasionally meant I missed my window. Yes, I am going where you think I am going. I had a few “I pooped my pants” moments. You know you all had those moments as a kid. For those of you that are parents, if your kid tells you they have to go, just trust them.

On our way home from work the other day, I took a photo of this great bumper sticker that says: “I’m only speeding because I have to poop.” If I was a woman who cared to cover her car in bumper stickers (I am not one of those women), this would be on my bumper. I cannot tell you how many times I have headed to the airport in the wee hours of the morning only to think, “Crap, I gotta go. Where the hell am I going to stop?”

Apologies for the grainy photo. It was taken through the windshield.

As you read this, you might be thinking, wow, Tami will talk about anything, and yes, there are a lot of things I will talk about, but I have to say why is pooping and farting so taboo? We all do it, so why is it such a big deal? At the end of the day, I can imagine that all of us have sped because we had to poop. It is just that some of us will admit it and others will not.

So where do you stand on the subject?

Gnawing or biting?

I was a biter. I told you all about it in my blog post: “I Was a Biter” almost two years ago. Over the weekend I got to hang out with my almost 3 month old niece, Charlie. In the two days I got to spend with her, she liked to gnaw on my finger. She does not have teeth, so it was more a gummy gnaw. How could I resist the drooling, gnawing cuddle muffin?

My niece has the nickname of Charlie, and since I was a biter, we were talking this weekend about whether Charlie will be a biter. My sister then brought up this video from 2007, and we laughed, and yes we had tears in or eyes, because quite frankly, Charlie in the video has this sort of snarky laugh that we can all relate to. I had forgotten about this video but love it. If you have not seen it, it is of two English boys, Charlie and his brother, Harry. Well, I can relate to Charlie. I was the youngest of three and whenever I could get just a second ahead of my sister or brother I felt like I had caught up, only to then have to run fast again to catch up again. Somehow when I struggled with communicating, and when I got frustrated I would resort to biting.

This video, per Wikipedia: “As of March 24, 2014 it has had 682,138,599 views and remains the most viewed YouTube video that is not a professional music video.” I have added to the views since March, as it is now at: 707,959,985. Crazy. Go Charlie, keep holding your own. Bite away.

Farting, freezing, and hand sanitizer

My flight was uneventful last night while flying back from California. A good smooth flight, but you know when you fly in a puddle jumper life is just a bit different in the friendly skies. Over the course of the 1+ hour flight someone (whether they were aware of it or not) could not stop breaking wind. As stated in my post last summer, about Farting on an Airplane, I know it is not always something individuals can control, but this was out of hand. Here is the list of things that came to me while making my trip back to Portland:

  • Overhead bin is so small, it is like a glove compartment
  • Someone keeps farting
  • The guy next to me has a cell phone with a revving motorcycle ringtone going off throughout flight
  • It is freezing, not above me through the vents, but around my ankles and no blankets on board
  • The person behind me keeps kneeing my back
  • Someone farted again
  • The guy next to me across the aisle will not shut up
  • The bathroom is so small, there is no sink, and they just leave hand sanitizer out for you
  • When the person coming out of the bathroom grabs my headrest as they walk by and I think now I do not want to put my head of hair on the headrest, because all I can think is, “Did they use the hand sanitizer?”
  • Someone farted again
  • I wonder when they last wiped the tray table down and the seats themselves
  • We arrive at our destination a half hour early only to stand while they take 20 minutes to figure out how to get the ramp to connect to the door
  • Someone farted again

Have you had enough?