Too Many Verucas, Not Enough Charlies

Just watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, inspired by Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory... but ironically, they changed the title simply to sell chocolate upon the movie's opening.

It's ironic because the message of the movie is about having nothing, being grateful (and far better behaved) for it and later reaping the rewards of being rich in character. It's about gluttony – for treats, for sweets, for having one's own way, for technology, for being first, for being the best.

Veruca, the incredibly well-played brat (seriously, don't you just want to wring the kid's neck??), wants everything and she wants in NOW! Sounds a lot like folks in our society and their intense need to have the latest and greatest, smartest and bestest phone or gadget in hand. They'll trade their time, energy, blood, and consideration for others just to have it first. (Have you seen the mobs lined up for the debut of the whatever-ma-gadget at Best Buy?) Twenty minutes later, the thing is obsolete and the hunger continues, leaving behind a pile of not-so-biodegradable bi-products of greed.

I look around the stores or listen to the children in school and I see and hear the bi-products of the Veruca-like parents. Whining yields results and then the adults make excuses to other adults to justify themselves. “Well, I just had to get him the whole set, all the other boys in his class have them...” “The seventh grade just has to go on a non-educational, yippie-yahoo fun field trip because the eighth grade went on one and we feel bad for them...”

Oh dear. They are certainly carefully taught.

On the other hand, is Charlie. Not truly jumping for joy about eating cabbage water every night for supper, but he's willing to do something about it. This boy has a paper route and uses his first paycheck to buy bread for the family (mom and all four bed-ridden grandparents). He gives the leftover change to his mother, save one coin he gives to Grandpa Joe for tobacco. Even knowing that there are golden tickets to be found in Wonka chocolate bars, he doesn't splurge on himself while his family is in need.

Of course, through some kindness and some chance, he does get a bit of chocolate and then he does end up with a golden ticket. Still, he's ever-concerned over the well being and fate of the naughty kids around him. He has a sound conscience and only disobeys one rule after Grandpa Joe gives him the go-ahead to swipe a sip of soda.

In the end, when Grandpa is ready to flip Willy the bird since he won't deliver on Charlie's lifetime supply of chocolate, it's little Charlie who steps up, returns his Gobstopper to assure Mr. Wonka that he won't divulge any trade secrets and to apologize for breaking a rule.

Wonka gives Charlie his chocolate, the factory and the whole shabang. It's an amazing fantasy, I know. But wow, we could sure use a few more Charlies in this world, couldn't we?

Aldi – From Armpit to Bicep

I haven't always been an Aldi Shopper. In fact, I must confess that due to my very few experiences in a Northern Illinois Aldi in the 1990s, I used to frequently refer to it as “the armpit of grocery stores.” Back then, it was dirty, dimly lit, poorly stocked with very few freshies (and the ones available were wilted and withered) and they only took cash (which I very infrequently carried.)

I wondered, when they first moved in right in front of the county's only Super Wal-Mart, why on earth we'd need an armpit store in front of the mega discount Wally.

Then a friend (and the sour economy) changed my mind. Now, both in my Wisconsin shopping area and in Illinois, they've brightened the stores up, stocked them well (with even some pretty cool gourmet items) and their produce is fairly plentiful in variety and the prices send me throwing my arms up in “wow-look-at-my-deal” victory.

It took a few trips and the consent to make two lists and two stops (they still don't have EVERYthing I need), but Aldi is almost always part of my grocery shop.

Besides the prices and the better atmosphere, I've found that it's a representation of real world people and it really exemplifies quite a bit of what I value.

On any given day, one might find in the parking lot, several economy sedans, a 1980 VW Rabbit, a beat up pick-up, a 2011 Mercedes, a few mini vans and a Corvette (of any vintage.) What I will report is that I've yet to see a shiny Hummer in the lot. (Why someone needs one of those in a country filled with paved roads is beyond me, honestly.)

Inside, you will find someone pushing a cart filled with nothing but spaghetti dinner fixings. You'll find an elderly couple with calculators out. You'll find a mom reading labels, a teenager asking for pizza puffs and a toddler reaching WAY over the cart to snag a box of cereal.

You'll also find a dad who knows his way around the store like the back of his hand and you'll find a lady in a fur coat and heels with about 11 “staple” gourmet items, giddy at the deal she just scored. You'll also find a man with no cart, three cans of food on the checkout belt and a hand not-quite-full of change.

What a love about Aldi is that, unlike most places in our country, it expects a bit of accountability. You need to pay a quarter to “rent” your cart. When you return it from the weather and dust in the parking lot, you get your quarter back. You need to bring your own bags or find an empty box within the shelves or buy your bags at check-out, or just unload your loot from your cart into your trunk.

You also bag your own groceries. If your hamburger buns arrive home squished or your eggs are broken, it's on you – not the infamous “they” we love to blame.

You can't put your groceries on credit either. Charge-it and owe-it won't fly. It's cash or debit card – a smart way to roll if you like to live within your means.

I find that most people are friendly and there is a mutual understanding that this may not be easy (buying food on a budget, knowing what to buy, going to multiple stores) but we're all here together. We all have to eat.

The first time I saw someone I knew, I felt the same way I did during the only time I walked into an unemployment office – small, defeated, and pretty ticked off at the hand I'd been dealt. Now, I bounce in that place with this wild pride like I've been accepted into a prestigious secret club.

We know what's up. Prices everywhere! We've found a few solutions. One of them is the bicep of grocery stores. They keep it real.

Time to Spin

You know, there are times when one has to be serious. I mean, seriously hunker down and get to the tough discussions. Politics, ethics, putting it out there for mulling over and then taking a stand. Learning about what is really “up” in the world around us.

I live in Wisconsin. There has been a lot “up” here. No matter where you live, I bet you know what I’m talking about.

My husband and I have been into learning more. We’ve been talking with others, calling legislative offices on all (notice I didn’t say “both”) sides and doing an inordinate amount of Facebook-ing. There have been some great, informed discussions and of course some passionate rants.

Since our discussions get loud sometimes, our 8 ½ year-old has caught on to what’s happening. We know this because she’s asked very intelligent questions on the matter. She’s even questioned a teacher who let the kids know that “our governor won’t be our governor for long because he isn’t doing a good job.”

After she sheepishly admitted that she challenged the teacher, we assured her that it was okay and that, as long as she was respectful, she could state her own opinion. We asked her to explain what she thought.

She did (in vast and intriguingly intelligent detail) and along the way, again asked more questions. We answered, giving as much of each side as we could and looked up information when we were stumped. We were surprised by the length of time she remained engaged. It was about 30 minutes of not-very-watered-down political discussion.

Then, she began to spin. Literally. She put her arms out like a helicopter and spun in the kitchen. This was the “I’m now done” cue.

She had soaked in quite a bit and it was time to move on.

I relayed this story to my dad, who often gets WAY sucked in to nothing-but-politics discussions, and he very wisely stated, “We could learn a lot from that girl. Sometimes, you just gotta stop and spin.” I’ve been noticing more joke posting on FB and have definitely indulged in a few complete “cyber vacations” myself.

Sometimes, you just gotta stop and spin. I'm off to a comedy club (one way to spin!)

Balancing on Contingencies

Often I get a plan together and even when it has multiple contingencies, I'm back to the drawing board. I've learned, over time, to make certain plans extremely flexible- sometimes to the point of simplistic and vague.
This is outside of my comfort zone. I'm a planner. It's taken a lot of time for me to be okay with "I have no idea what's next" situations. Currently, I'm on the cusp of embracing this wild, wonderful sea of choice rather than looking at it as a major abyss of aimless unknown, but I still have moments of major angst about plans going awry.
It's helped me to look back at unplanned successes. I never aspired to be a divorcee, but without going through that ordeal, I wouldn't have the marriage and family with which I'm currently blessed. I also gained tremendous empathy for others having weathered that storm.
I never hoped to be laid off from a great job while I was 9 mos pregnant, but being forced into taking a leap and starting my own business years ago was a tremendously unexpected positive consequence. It forced me to really examine what type of work-life I prefer during motherhood.
Recently, my plan to get back to my graduate work was underway. I slogged through the red tape and was in final stages of "good to go." I've had a few wrenches thrown at my plan to fund the endeavor. There's one more contingency left before "Plan F," ("back to the flippin' drawing board") goes into affect. I'm not overjoyed. I've had my angst moment about it. And fortunately, new and different opportunities are coming to light... so, if need be, it's back to making new choices.
This weekend I experienced a cool tool. The balance board. Mine is a tapestry-covered board with two half-moon rockers on the bottom. I can stand on it, sit on it, do crunches or even hand stands on it if I felt like a fun ER trip. The key is to balance your weight through continuous adjustment.
I've often taught this in workshops, but something about this board gives me permission to do this goofy-feeling exercise daily. We need movement. We desire centering and knowing that we each have the power and skill to balance given just a moment to focus.
It's time to be creative and flexible.
Being the analogy queen, I'll transfer this refreshed learning to my current (and I'm sure future) set of contingencies. Time to take off my socks, dig my toes into the tapestry and find center again.

Who knows, by summer perhaps I'll have mastered the handstand without a cast.

Digging In (February 8, 2011)

2011-2-8

After the blizzard of '11 (or snowmageddon, as some called it), it took about 3 days to truly dig out of the drifts. My own “digging out” may well take weeks.

I'm not buried in snow. I'm buried in an office filled with unfinished business. Five months ago, my steady contract work ended with a great company. I had been consulting with members of the ever-growing jobless population, helping them recharge their resumes and spirits. It was a great steady stream of interesting people who were more or less in the same boat of “what next?”

That was 5 months ago. Just today I recycled a whole stack of useless paperwork from that endeavor. It was as if a spring breeze swept through my office when I let the chunk of paper plunk to the bottom of the bin.

After basking in the freshness, I sifted through folders of obsolete information about groups to which I once belonged. Newsletters from my eldest daughter’s pre-school teacher (my daughter’s nearly 9), out-of-date directories from church, old school newsletters and obsolete sales catalogs - dumped. Ahhh.

I now have a stack of things to be filed, but am pleased to report that the recycling bin received far more paper than what remains in that stack. I'm still reeling from the tornado aftermath, where I often ask myself, “would it truly matter if this had been sucked up and blown away in that cyclone?”

I consolidated various lists of unfinished business, dividing out separate lists for business, home, kids, health and now school. (I’m finishing up there, too!)

Great ideas are everywhere, it’s often hard to choose what to give up and what to begin. There are only so many hours…

I’ve been observing that the act of finishing is a huge value of mine. It’s much stronger than I’d given credit. Satisfaction lives within it, win or lose. I’m also noticing to be cautious about the guilt that ensues when I’m faced with ongoing unfinished business.

Can laundry every truly be finished? Or recording children’s growth in words and photos or letter writing or giving gratitude or learning new things? Heavens, I’d hope not. It's not possible unless we wear the same thing daily or never take notes or correspond or give thanks, or heaven forbid… we think we know all there is to know!

So today, I dig in after digging out. I savor this moment and vow to finish what’s important and be more loving and gentle about that which will hopefully remain unfinished for years to come.

Where will you start finishing?

Learning Journey (from January 31, 2011)

1-31-11

Seventeen years ago, I began a master’s in English Education. Fifteen years ago, after a change of heart, I stopped pursuing my degree to join the corporate world. Nine years ago, I started my family.

This past December, I started studying to “recertify” the hours I’d taken so many years ago. I’m amazed at just how differently I learn after been immersed in reality. Although I’m admittedly still distracted by household things, much like I was in my earlier college years, I’m so much more focused than I was at age 25.

It was also striking to see how deeply committed I’ve become to seeking out more information about the authors so I might suppose what formed their styles. I longed to climb into their minds. With a raging fire in the woodstove and a laptop propped in front of my book, I devoured poet after poet, joyfully this time, rather than painstakingly as I did when I was an undergrad. It was made so much simpler by not having to brave a colossal library to answer the million questions.

During a recertification exam, one of the professors and I remarked about how different grad school would look if every student was required to take 10 years off to first “be” in the world. (She suggested more like 30!)

Some students experience incredible learning the first time around. I wasn’t one of those. I’m sure I had some wonderful instructors, but for me learning required either a connection of some kind or an evident application. Not many struck that chord.

I wasn’t ripe, fertile soil ready to take in their knowledge and grow with what they were planting at the time.

As the snow melts from the fields and my brain, I’m excited to see what happens next.

Weather Proofing (from December 27, 2010)

2010-12-27

I’ve been working hard not to let things, people and situations squish my spirit. It’s so easy to fall prey to the negativity that lurks both outside and in during Christmas.

I find joy in this season. The preparation. The good secrets. The giggly anticipation. The confirmation of grateful faces and wishes fulfilled. The hope.

I steel myself with traditions we’ll continue and new ones we’ll begin. I simplify and create to avoid feelings of lack and temper the yearning for commercial crap. I light the room with hundreds of tiny twinkling lights, to gently usher in the cold nights. I wrap myself in an armor of cozy blankets by the warm fire, silently singing (loudly in my mind) to tune out the passive aggressive sounds that threaten my calm.

Yet often, the armor isn’t thick enough for the prickly conversation that judges with “kind curiosity.” The cold night slams into my world with minus 20 degree winds and wakes the calm night with the power of 500 watts of overhead lighting in my sleepy eyes.

The oneness I feel with my season disappears like the rings of smoke from the chimney.

Next season, I’ll need a heavier blanket and a louder silent song, apparently.

Perfectionism Can Be Contagious

I’m the proud mom of two really talented and bright girls. Earlier this year, I sought a bit of assistance from a great advocate of the gifted at their school. She lent me a few books on the subject of perfectionism. As secretly suspected, I have a knack for perfectionism myself. Apparently, it's contagious, so I'm working on it in service of my self and my observers.

I’ve been sitting on some posts I’ve written because they weren’t “just right” or didn’t seem to fit or weren't "appropriate" for the world. I’ve been encouraged by several readers to knock it off and just post.

So, in you’re honor (you know who you are) the following posts are a mish-mash of my imperfect brain. The are dated mostly for my convenience and to give some context. I hope you enjoy.