Kelly Epperson's Blog, page 16

Growing up

What do you want to be when you grow up? I have met many women of all ages who say they still don’t know yet.

Yet somewhere inside of them, they do know. They’ve kept it stuffed down inside for so long, they are chicken to see if anything is still there.

I watched an old Johnny Depp movie, “Don Juan de Marco,” a light, fun romp that also stars Marlon Brando and Faye Dunaway. As Marlon prepares to retire, he wants to rekindle the flame with his wife of many years. He tells her he really wants to know her, he wants to know her hopes and dreams and all the things she put off during their lifetime together. Faye laughs and cries:”I didn’t think you would ever ask.”

Have you asked yourself?

What have you put off all these years? Have you not pursued your passions because you put everyone else’s needs first? When is it your turn?

I am working with a client to help her birth her book. She has wanted to write this for twenty-five years. She recently had some family issues come up and the old her would have put the book project away, telling herself she had to be there for them.

Her Inner Voice spoke to her loudly this time. She now realizes that she can be there for them and be there for herself.  In the past, she had let obligations and fear hold her back. Now she has finally given herself permission to put herself out there into the world. Her dream of writing a book is no longer buried in the needs of others.

Do you have a dream that has been buried? Are you ready to uncover it?

You don’t have to take drastic steps. You don’t have to ditch the spouse, run away to an island, or   dye your hair blonde. If you want to, of course, go for it, but the preconceived notions we have often over-inflate what it really takes to follow one’s heart.

An easy example: If you have always wanted to write a book, start writing. Ten minutes a day, an hour a day, a Sunday afternoon. You’ll be amazed at what gets done in small chunks. Take a writing course. Join a writers group. Hire a book coach.

The first step is start writing.

Have you always wanted to learn to play the piano? Take a lesson. One lesson. Does it still interest you? If so, take a class at the community college or hire more lessons from a private tutor. Find out if you can use the piano at your church or a friend or family member to practice on.

You don’t have to go out and buy a baby grand, you start with one lesson.

One of my clients is now launching a floral design business. She loves flowers and making arrangements brings her joy. She didn’t run out and rent a storefront. She didn’t develop a website to attract clients. She got her first client and word of mouth has led to more. She is easing into it and loving it.

As we take these steps, we see that we are starting to live our future dreams now. You may not be a concert pianist, but you can play Do, Re, Mi and that brings you joy. Your joy is enough. Your joy is all there is.

Every day, I wander my home full of books and music and know that I am living my dream. I look at the window and see the trees and know that I am living my dream. Every night my Prince Charming holds me in his arms and I know I am living my dream.

It started with one small step of believing in me.

That’s all it ever takes is one small step.

Sometimes that step seems daunting, I grant you that. When you take it, you see the sky didn’t fall and the heavens didn’t strike you down for pursuing your joy. What happens is that you get confirmation, sometimes in a small way, sometimes in a grand way, that you are on the right path.

Then you take another step. Then another. Turtle step by turtle step, you soon realize that you are living a piece of a dream. Other pieces fall into place.

It all starts with asking: What do I want to do now?

What do you want to be when you grow up? A happy you.

(If you need help with your first step, drop me an email.)

Happiness Happens Day can be any day and every day

I write today (August 8, 2012) on what has been declared by the Secret Society of Happy People as the 13th annual Happiness Happens Day. You will read these words after August 8, and that’s okay because I believe every day is Happiness Happens day.

Yes, we accept that sh*t happens, so why not accept that happiness happens too? When you go through your daily life, what is it that you notice? The poo-poo or the good stuff?

Today, let’s see how much of the good stuff will happen. I have noticed in my life that the more I appreciate and recognize the good, I get more of it. It’s simple law of attraction, and holy moly, it works.

To get conversations started on happiness subjects, ask your family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, etc this question: What’s new and good?

Notice the caveat there? We often say, “Hey, what’s new?” and the respondent launches into a list of who is sick, who has died, who is in jail, who is in pain, all the yucky stuff going on the world. Ring any bells?

“Oh, well, I threw my back out last week. The house is infested with ants. I’ve got this weird rash in my armpits. Aunt Marjorie’s neighbor’s second cousin got arrested for making bombs in the basement. The stock prices are falling. Gas prices are going up. The weather sure has been awful. I never did learn how to speak Spanish in high school. That clerk on the grocery store sure is rude. I think the mosquitoes are going to be bad this year.”

And on and on.

When you ask what is new and good, it puts a new spin on it.

“Well, I threw my back out last week, but I met a new doctor who got me back to good, even better. This doc is really wonderful. I haven’t felt this good in long time. I even played golf yesterday morning with Uncle Sam. Haven’t been with him in months. We had a fun time and went to breakfast too. Ran into some old friends and we’re going to play golf with them next week.”

You can implement this experiment at home. At the dinner table with spouse, kids, whoever, simply ask: So what’s new and good today?

The brain starts searching for “good” and will come up with different answers than if you just asked it for “new.”

The brain is an amazing thing. We can re-wire our brains, no matter how old we are. We can learn to focus on the happiness, the new and good. We simply have to notice what we ask, what we are paying attention to.

Some happiness happens quickstarts to get your thinking flowing this way:

What song(s) always makes you feel happy?

What movies(s) always make you feel happy?

What happy stuff has happened this summer?

What happy summer memories do you have from your youth?

What book makes you smile just thinking about it?

What moment(s) from these recent Olympic games make you feel happy?

What food(s) make you happy just smelling or thinking about?

Does this list get your brain moving on to other ways to see where happiness happens?

Let me know when, where, and why happiness happens for you. Today and any day.

Did Bill Gates use up all the money? Any left for me?

Oh my gosh, I used up the heat. Oh dear, I used up the last of the air conditioning. Honey, you breathed all the air, now it’s all gone.

We don’t say those statements. Heat just is. You can’t use it up. The car heater or home furnace may malfunction and the air conditioning unit may go on the fritz, but the “things” of heat and cool just are and cannot be exhausted.

We cannot exhaust the supply of air. There may be air quality issues in some locations, but the fact that you inhale air all day long never crosses your mind. You never monitor your daily intake of oxygen, in fear that you used more than your share.

Think about love. Is there a supply of love that can run out? Do we get a quota at birth? Is it rationed out?

Love just is.

I had a baby. I loved him beyond anything I had ever known. I had a second baby. Did I tell him, “Sorry, I gave all my love already, there is none for you”? Of course not.

Love just expands. A mother of one or a mother of ten has love for everyone. There are no units doled out and once it’s gone, it’s gone. People who have remarried know that love is amazing the next time around too.

If you break up with your lover, you may fret about finding a new mate, but you don’t fret that the world ran out of love and you will never have any more ever again.

If I love 101 people, you can only love 99 people because I took an extra unit of love from the heap. That’s silly, right?

I can love a million people and you can love a million people. My loves do not diminish your love. We all can love. The world will never run out of love.

When it comes to money, do you think the same way? Most people don’t. When it comes to money, people get all tangled up in fears and worries, instead of believing in the abundance available to all.

The world will never run out of money. (Let’s not talk about Greece or Spain here.) Stay with me. I can make a million dollars. You can make a million dollars. My million does not affect yours. There is no allotment. There is no universal banker keeping tick marks.

When Bill Gates made a million bucks, we didn’t say, “Dang him, now there’s no money left for me!” Bill can make millions, Warren Buffet can make millions, Donald Trump can make millions. There’s still money. The world didn’t run out of money.

Wealth is like air or love. There is enough for everyone.

We tend to think that wealth is only for some people, other people. Why not start to think that wealth can be for all, just like love or breathing.

I can fall in love, breathe the air, and make oodles and gobs of money. It does not take away from your ability to fall in love, breathe the air, and make oodles and gobs of money. There is love, air, and money for all.

There is enough for everyone.

If I am happy, that does not mean you have to be sad. It’s not like we count off by two’s and the ones get to be happy and the twos are miserable. Happiness is limitless. So is wealth. It’s available for all.

It may take some time to wrap your brain around this thought. Let it simmer. Let me know your thoughts.

Recalling September 11, 2001 and the power of love

I write this on September 11, 2012. You will read these words days or weeks after September 11 has passed. What does that date stir in you after all these years?

Last year on the tenth anniversary, I purposely did not write about the events of 9/11/01. There was so much hype and I didn’t want to be just one more piece talking about that historic day.

I don’t watch the television news so I don’t know how much air time is devoted to the event this year  All I know is what I feel, and what I remember.

I was working from home that day when the phone rang. It was my then-husband telling me to turn on the TV. “We’ve been attacked,” was all he said.

I spent the day dazed and glued to the news. I wept and was grateful to be living in a tiny podunk town that no terrorist would ever bother with. I couldn’t sleep that night as I pondered the fate of my boys who were in grade school then. I wondered if there would be a draft and if they would have to go to war when they were eighteen.

My inability to comprehend it all left me numb. I was deeply saddened. I was confused. I never felt rage and felt odd that I seemed to be the only one who was  not mad as hell. I was sad as hell.

My overriding compulsion was to bake bread. I wanted to send fresh homemade bread to everyone in New York. That of course was not possible. The next thing that came to me was to write thank you notes. I wrote thank you cards to people who had touched my life, some of whom I had never met.

If you think back to that day and the days that followed, sure, there were a lot of emotions. Anger was in there for many people but the strongest force of all was compassion. Those attacks on our country shook us to our core, and we discovered that our core was love.

As time has passed, we have gotten away from that. We have returned back to our “safe” desensitized world.  We argue over politics. We get blustery over the economy, gas prices, and the weather.

We forgot that on that day, nothing else mattered. That sunny September morning we were raw and exposed. We cried. We rallied. We helped. We supported. We cooperated. We felt the true power.

It is not a president. It is not a terrorist. It is not a country. It is not a religion. The only true power is love and we felt it, pure and simple.

The very core of our existence is love. The only power that held us together was love. Love trumps evil. Love is stronger than hate. Always.

Business as usual does not have to be cold and uncaring. The new normal can be caring and compassionate.

Remember how you felt that morning and the days that followed. Remember how you vowed to live with clear priorities. How are you doing now? Is the guiding principle of your life love? It doesn’t matter your vocation, upbringing, belief system. You can live from love.

Maybe it is a crazy mixed up world. Maybe it is also a world full of beautiful souls who can grow together to make things a little better. No matter when you read this or your political stance, remember your gut feeling that day. What mattered to you then? What matters now?

What I did on my summer vacation

It’s been quite the summer, and yes, it went quickly.

Boy Wonder #1 only came home for about six weeks. He’s back in Arizona, back to school, back to forging his own life. Boy Wonder #2 worked most of the summer and spent a lot of time with his beloved pals as this was their last summer before dispersing to colleges all across the country.

As they experience their growth, I did the same. Prince Charming made sure we had plenty of adventures. For some things, we stayed close to home. We took a stained glass workshop and spent an entire day creating one small project. My already-existing appreciation for stained glass artists has now escalated one billon percent.

We also went to Chicago for a glass blowing class. Beginners don’t actually blow glass. We start with paper weights. Again, my appreciation for what goes into making a small, seemingly simple, piece of glass has now expanded exponentially.

Do I want to pursue more glass stuff? Probably not. I’ve learned my personality type is that of experience junkie. The thrill of learning and/or doing something new excites me. Prince Charming understands this and keeps the experiences coming.

We also did several outdoor adventures. We went zip lining. We borrowed a motorcycle for a day. We went to Lake Geneva and rented a speed boat for an afternoon. We took a road trip around the Great Lakes. One week of pure unplugged bliss.

We went hang gliding. I can fly! It was a rush as the tug plane towing us took off and we were airborne. I felt safe in my cocoon harness atop the instructor. As we ascended and the ground became smaller and smaller, I found myself laughing out loud.

When we reached 2,000 feet, I was given the signal to hit the release lever, and we were on our own. Nothing but wind as the guiding force. Hang gliding is simple in that you use your body weight to steer. If I could have a tug pilot take me up, I could fly around on my own. Well, not really. It takes a lot of training. And I have no idea how to land.

The instructor talked about air thermals and altitudes, but I just enjoyed soaring. I trusted him to get us back to the ground safely.

He explained that for new students wanting to be pilots (I was just out for a joy ride) the biggest hurdle they need to get over is to simply relax. Be loose and let intuition be your guide.

Isn’t that the way with all things in life?

If we can just get over ourselves, just relax, be loose and breathe, life is so much easier. If only we could constantly remember to let our inner voice be the guide. It never steers us wrong.

As you read this, I’m in Alaska, on our Joy Cruise. That marks the official end of summer, but the adventures continue. All of life, every day, is a simple adventure. Find something that makes your spirit soar. Let yourself have spaghetti arms. Don’t clench. Relax. Breathe. You just might learn that you can fly.

Proofs of love

The poet Pierre Reverdy said, “There is no love, there are only proofs of love.”

We may disagree that there is no love, of course there is love. However, Pierre makes a point, without the proofs of love, how does one feel our love?

In a romantic relationship, the courtship is all about proofs of love. The phone calls, the first touch of the hands, the first kiss, the first love making, the continued messages, flowers, touches and affection. How does he love me? Let me count the ways!

The proofs of love are how we know how someone feels about us.

If you are with someone and they say the words, “I love you,” yet in their actions never show a proof of love, you don’t feel loved. The whole point of love is to feel loved.

Many a relationship or marriage crumbles because partners do lip service yet stop offering tangible proofs of love.

The attention, appreciation, and affection are the proofs we all crave. A proof of love can be anything. An unexpected phone call during the day simply to say, “I like the sound of your voice.” Sending texts or emails to declare one’s appreciation is more beneficial to a relationship than “Don’t forget to buy milk on the way home.”

Sure, reminders like that may help the household run more smoothly. Even better, add a proof of love to help the relationship run more smoothly. Add a line of love and gratitude to the picker-upper of the milk. You can be sweet, you can be silly, you can be sexy. Simply add a personalized proof of love onto the end of that message, and see what greets you at home.

“Fantasizing about taking a milk bath with you, baby.”

It may never happen but it will spark something.

Or if you are the one picking up the milk, pick up some good chocolate too. Or bakery cookies that your mate loves. Or favorite ice cream and the fixings for sundaes just because. Any little thing to offer a proof of love.

Proofs of love are daily, and they are major and minor. Proof of love can be grand like a trip to Italy or groovy like a scribbled message left on the bathroom mirror.

We all want to be recognized for our contributions and we want to feel loved. Relationships thrive or wither based upon the proofs of love.

What about the relationship with yourself? How’s that going? Any proofs of love there?

Do you leave yourself love notes? Seriously, when you write your grocery list, jot a note at the bottom: You do a lot! Reward yourself! Write on your bathroom mirror in dry erase marker: Looking good! Put a sticky note on your computer: You are awesome!

Schedule in time each week for people and activities that light you up. If you love reading romance novels, yet never take the time to open a book, where is the proof of that love?

If you love show tunes yet never download “Defying Gravity” or break out your CDs and belt out a tune with your hairbrush microphone, where is the proof of love?

If you love getting a manicure, pedicure, or massage and never book one, where is the proof of love?

If you love smelly candles and how they make your home or office feel lovely, and you never buy one or light one, where is the proof of love?

If you love watching reruns of Little House on the Prairie and never indulge, where is the proof of love?

To indulge simply means to take unrestrained pleasure in something, to allow oneself to follow one’s will. If that is not the meaning of life, and the joy of love, please tell me what is.

Have you ever heard someone say, “I love taking bubble baths, but I never do.” You are thus choosing not to do what you love. Why? What are you choosing to do instead?

You can make time for proofs of love. The more you do, the more you find the time. The more life doesn’t seem so tense and full of worry and stress. The more you show proofs of love to the people in your life, and to you, the more proofs show up in return.

Experiment with me. Indulge yourself in one proof of love this week. I bet you a bundle that you will feel reciprocated in some surprising way.

Love, and proofs of love, have the boomerang effect. The more you give, the more you get.

Let me get the party started. I love you. Thank you for reading.

 

Oh my gosh, there is something in the air. It must be fall.

Scientists need to get over to my property pronto and do an investigation of what has changed in the barometric pressure. Maybe someone is just shooting invisible happy gas into my yard. The squirrels have gone absolutely beserk. (I was going to say they’ve gone nuts. Too obvious?)

The critters have been a joy to watch this past year as we moved into the little house in the big woods. Well, little house in the heavily-treed neighborhood is really the case. This probably was a patch of woods fifty or sixty years ago. Now it’s fifty houses mixed in there too.

The squirrels, chipmunks, birds, raccoons, and turkeys have provided endless enjoyment for me. I have yet to tire of their amusing antics. They seem now to have become turbo-charged.

The first falling of the acorns led to a mess on my porch and a fury of activity in the front yard. I watched the squirrels whirl around the grass like they were in a coked-up frenzy. The frenetic scurrying, the darting back and forth, the spinning in circles made me think of cartoon animals on warp speed. It was that unreal. I should have video taped them.

Now it appears the initial high has past. The first batch must have been laced with something that now they can handle a little better. The advent of the addition of walnuts has increased their joy. The squirrels hang upside down, holding on to the tree bark with the back claws, while they devour their nut with their two little front paws holding the prize.

The little chipmunks are in heaven too. They zip around the yard with their bounty and, I am pretty sure, a wink and a smile.

It cracks me up how they startle. I will be outside and unwittingly sneak up on a squirrel or chipmunk or turkey. They will stop suddenly (the turkeys scramble away) and we make eye contact. I smile and laugh and tell them it’s okay. They have the right of way. Go on, get moving.

I had a stare down with a squirrel the other morning. Seriously, I said out loud: “It’s your turn. Go.” He nodded quickly (or maybe I imagined that part) and then skidaddled off the path and onto a tree.

This week, it’s like the animals are juiced up on 5-hour energy drinks. Their gravity-defying moves are amped up like I’ve never seen. The around-the-tree chases are faster than ever before. Sometimes there are two or three squirrels going around so fast that they make me dizzy.

The squirrels have entertained me all summer leaping from tree to tree. Now the circus act feats have been taken up a notch. The leaps are bigger, bolder, and even more daring. Here goes one now. Leaping from the roof of the shed into a far away tree! He made it!

Maybe they are auditioning for a new squirrel reality show. Maybe it’s just the change in season. Maybe there were more calm and serene yet playful still because it was just too dang hot this summer.

Perhaps the cooler weather has unlocked their brakes and they will now go full-tilt until winter. I do not know. I simply enjoy the show.

Empty nest

I know I’m not the first mom to go through the myriad of mixed emotions that come with the empty nest. It is upon me now and my heart feels like a yoyo.

My younger son asked why I cry if I say I am so proud and happy for them, my dear sweet precious boys, as they go off to college. I say there are no words for all that I am feeling so my body expresses it with tears.

Tears of joy, certainly. I am incredibly proud of my sons. I am happy. They are superdeeduper fellas and both chose to go to college. BoyWonder#1 will be starting his second year at ASU, majoring in aeronautical engineering. BoyWonder#2 leaves soon for North Central College, in Naperville, IL, my alma mater, to major in accounting and finance.

Tears of bittersweet acceptance of time passages, too. I can still feel their baby skin, and I hear their toddler voices asking for another story, and I cherish the sweetness of their youth.

They don’t ask me to read them books any more, but they do tell me stories and their grown-up laughter is just as sweet as their little boy giggles.

As I type, my guys are 19 and 18. Older son will be twenty soon. Two decades I have been a mom, and I’m still figuring some things out I guess. Letting go is an ongoing lesson.

The bottom line is that I enjoy my babies and will miss them. So it goes.

We raise our children to leave us. I accept that. I do. I sure as heck don’t want them living in my basement forever. And that means there are a few tears of guilt too perhaps. There is a part of me that is happy for my re-claiming of the lower level of the house. The boy den will become mine and get a pretty makeover.

I tell myself all the good things that an empty nest brings. The laundry room will not be strewn with clothes from dryer to floor; the loud music playing will be my own, and if I buy a bunch of bananas, I will actually get to eat one.

So every time sadness wells up, I focus on the fun yet to come. I can make spaghetti sauce with mushrooms in it instead of making them on the side. I can stay up late and not because I am waiting for a text message telling me when they’ll be coming in. I can make plans to go visit them.

There comes a time when we have to stop feathering the nest. The little birds are ready to fly on their own. They really don’t want mama hovering and worrying. They want mama to pack them food and fade to the background.

They have to chew their own worms now.

And they are quite capable. My sons are smart and funny. They know basic manners, even if they don’t always display them. They know how to make a sandwich and clean a toilet, even if they never do.

They know I am here, ready to listen whenever they may need. When the ache swells in my heart, I shift my energy back to gratitude. It’s just another phase of life. Every family goes through transitions. We’ve done pretty well thus far. They have ridden the waves of life like champs. I trust they will be just fine. I trust I will be too.

A week with no signal leads to paying attention to other signals

I just returned from a week long vacation, totally unplugged. We road tripped around Lake Michigan, Lake Huron, and Lake Superior. The no cell/no computer designation was partly by choice and partly by circumstance.

We had planned a week of pure vacation and even if we had wanted to check in, there were many places where there was no signal.

But the real signals were indeed many. A signal is simply an indicator that serves as a means of communication. The signals I received were to take this week in, savor it all, breathe, and relax. My mission was to enjoy the beauty of all the places we explored and enjoy the company of my Prince Charming.

That I did.

I also noticed signals. If the gas light came on, we recognized the signal that the tank was getting low and we stopped to fuel up. If my stomach grumbled, I recognized the signal that I was hungry. We ate at delightful places along the way, sampling elk, caribou and other regional fare. If my husband reached out his hand, I recognized the signal to take his hand in mine and give him a kiss.

The world is full of signals. Too often we are too busy “communicating” electronically that we overlook all the simple signals. If we pay attention to the signals of our body, and acted accordingly, our health would improve. Our stress level would improve. Our happiness would increase.

We get signals all the time of what we really need, yet we drown out our inner voice with the chiming of our cell phones and computers and the blare of television.

Whether we were dining at a lovely resort or gazing at a waterfall, I noticed people on their phones. It amuses me that a common sight now is people with their heads down, typing with their thumbs.

My initial judgment of “can’t they just enjoy the ambiance without electronics” faded into “to each their own.” I got the signal from my heart to stop being in other’s people’s business and get back to my own.

My business that week was to get away from it all. We didn’t post the play by play of our adventures on Facebook, and the only twitters and tweets were those of the birds. That was my choice, and I need to respect the choices of others.

We did go to one restaurant way up north that had a sign on the door that it was a cell phone-free zone. I saw one man texting and one guy talking on his cell. The cell phone police didn’t come and drag them away.

It’s good to pay attention to signals. Listen to cues telling you to eat, drink, sleep. Notice the signals of when to move your body. Notice the signals of when to slow down.

If I had had my head down texting, I would have missed the signal telling us that a scenic overlook was ahead, we would not have stopped at the cute roadside store called Fish Out of Water, and I wouldn’t have seen the bear on the side of the road.

Now that I am back home, back in the saddle of electronic communication, I vow to pay attention to all the signals in life, not just the chime of a text or a ding of an email. After a week of being gone, the world had still revolved without me checking email or texting. That to me is a signal that I can go unplugged a little more often.

Mindless Television Surfing and Web Surving are Same Time Waster

OMG, I admit it. I sometimes click on story links on the internet that take me to the webstie called omg. It is celebrity photos and “news.” Every time I find myself clicking on   a headline about who wore what I chide myself, yet there I go.

Who wore the black leather pants better? Who cares. Yet they got me to click. Is it really news if two starlets wear the same dress? Isn’t it a matter of opinion of “who wears it better”?

Why the fascination with celebrities, their wardrobes, and their woes? I am not sure, yet I clicked when I read that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes were divorcing. I clicked when I read Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie were marrying.

I spend a lot of time on my computer and headlines are how I get my news. However, this kind of stuff is not news.

I advise people to not spend time mindlessly surfing channels on the television, yet I spend time clicking from story to story on the internet. Same time waste.

My advice to TV watchers is to watch their favorite shows and then turn it off. For me, I need the same discipline.

When it’s time to take a break from work, I indulge in a little web wandering. Be it surfing stories or reading Facebook, it is amazing how much time can whiz by.

My solution. A kitchen timer.

When I veer off from work and start to roam, I set the timer. Sometimes I give myself an hour. Sometimes fifteen minutes.

There are times that I read “real” news stories. More often than not, I am reading the fluff.

I know what movies are playing. I know what stars are hooking up with who, who had babies, and what odd names they named them. I know the fashion faceoffs even if I do not always know the young stars being mentioned.

I know what shows are on television even though I have not watched TV for a few years. I know the names of all the reality shows even though I have never watched a single episode of any.

I know if Lindsay Lohan is still wearing her ankle bracelet, back in jail, or in rehab.

The crazy thing is that I don’t care. So why do I click on this mindless stuff? Because I have lost my mind I guess.

Perhaps I would be good at trivia, but that opportunity rarely comes along.

I guess we all just want to take a breather and get away from work. So we gravitate to what is there and what is easy. People come home from work and they turn on the TV. I work from home so I turn on the Yahoo headlines.

The timer works well. I have now decided to limit my mindless meanderings to ten minutes. Maybe I’ll go cold turkey. If I am stepping away from work to clear my head, I should do just that.

Stepping outside is good. Walking around the yard is a good idea. Flipping through a magazine can take me to better places. Those ideas sound more appealing.

I will not be able to report who wears the leather pants better. But if I say I don’t care, I guess it’s time to find out.

Wish me luck.