Are you old?

ARE YOU OLD?
Today at "book"club, we landed on something quite astute:

You're not old when you have a funeral to attend every other week. You're old when even your funeral calendar dries up. That's old. That's Grandma Martha level old.

Speaking of G-ma, she says you don't truly feel old until your children are senior citizens. Seems fair enough. But something else that is true of old age is that you can't distinguish between generations anymore. A 60-year-old vs. a 25-year-old? You don't see any difference. Everyone below 80 qualifies as "kids these days".

So, to wrap things up, if your funeral bell curve isn't making its descent, if your children aren't senior citizens and if you haven't pegged T-Swift and Oprah as around the same age, you're not old.

Thank you, Google Image search. Now, how quickly can I get this on my wall?

Image by Quinten Matsys via Wikimedia Commons

ONE LIFE = TWO ADJECTIVES

As I was walking along the beach with Andy the other day, I had a realization: a life is worth about two adjectives. That's all most people get. When you die, you'll be remembered fondly, in detail, for one generation. The following generation you'll be condensed into a handful of stories. After that, you're reduced to two adjectives. Maybe "Bubbly" and "Adventurous" or "Intelligent" and "Misunderstood" or "Pretty" and "Annoying" --- you get the idea. 

Take, for example, my Great Grandfather Horace Merkel. All that I really know about him is that he was a "self-made man" and had a "temper". It wasn't long ago that he was roaming the earth. I'm not that far removed from the guy. But still, that's it. 

Makes you think, what two adjectives do you want to mark your legacy? I'm gunning for 'beautiful genius'.

Sweet dreams, 

Margaret

Hate to burst your bubble...

The other day Andy and I were walking along the Alki promenade.

"Oooh, something smells of bubblegum!" Andy said with jubilant innocence.

I had to break it to him that it was because we'd just passed two Honey Buckets. What he was smelling was not bubblegum, but urinal cakes.

Speaking of urinal cakes, those are NOT bars of soap. Another easy mistake to make. If you have young kids, warn them.

Image via Wikimedia Commons

Woah. Remember Bazooka bubblegum? It's been a long time since I've chopped my gnashers down on one of theose delicious, rock hard rectangles. And they have jokes inside! Remember? I'd forgotten all about them until now.

Goodbye, 

Margaret

Where for art thou Internet?

I went to an Internet cafe today. How 1999 is that?

My Internet at home was being slow and I needed to upload a video for work. After about an hour of refreshing, turning the wifi off and on, fiddling around with Network Preferences, poking the router with a pen tip and praying to the almighty Skeegles, I gave in and walked up the hill to 'Alki Mail and Dispatch', a coffee shop meets post office meets Internet cafe.

But alas, the Internet there was also very slow. Perhaps all of West Seattle struggled with sluggish Internet toady. Perhaps all of Seattle. All of Washington. The WORLD. Who knows. It's just comforting to think I may not have been alone in this.

Kay kids gather around the fam's first computer. 

As I ran back down the hill—toes slamming into my boot tips, knees bracing themselves for every step, boobs sweating like Michael Jordan's head in the fourth quarter—I actually grunted "GOD DAMN IT!!!" out loud for the whole world to hear. Of course I made sure not to move my mouth so that people in passing cars wouldn't be able to read my lips or even know I was saying anything at all. But still. I was frustrated to the point of grunting in public. That's pretty bad.

Then I took a few deep breaths and reminded myself that nothing matters and everything will be OK.

Goodnight,
Margaret

P.S. I can't stop thinking about this 105-year-old Japanese sprinter. So inspiring! What do I have to do to be that healthy and live that long? I suppose I can start by cutting Recess peanut butter cups out of my diet.

Martha the matriarch

To say my grandma is a great conversationalist would be the understatement of the century. She is to words what the ocean is to plankton, the sky is to stars, a competitive eater is to hotdogs—filled to the brim.

Today's anecdotes included:

• How her mother used to send her food in the mail. She once sent an entire pork roast by USPS.

• How she was BFFs with a married Democrat atheist man. They would go clothes shopping together for his wife. He was also an avid weaver. "I think he was probably part gay," she says. 'Part gay' is my new fave phrase. Like being 'part Japanese' or something. 

• How taking hot baths was her only escape from her kids, and even then, they would pass her notes through the crack between the floor and the door. 

A photograph of a photograph, taken with my web cam.
Look closely and you can see my laptop reflected in the glass!

She also says that the keys to a happy marriage are kindness and forgiveness.

I feel like Andy and I are in a constant state of silent, preemptive forgiveness—it's the only way two people this annoying can live happily together. 

But kindness? Are we kind? We're somewhat kind. But he could definitely give me more back massages and I could stop making fun of his far apart eyes. There's room for improvement. 

I'm TIRED. Up at 5:30am this morning. Took the first water taxi across to Seattle this morning. Sat on the top deck with a view of the skyline, all lit-up in the still-dark sky. Truly brilliant. Then a bunch of doofus seals had to ruin it by arfing loudly from their perch on a nearby buoy. But what can ya do? Seals gonna arf. 

LOVE, 

Margaret

Wisdom from Maria

My cousin Maria is as wise as they come.

Here are her words of wisdom for you all on this Friday evening:

• Ask to see a manager if your coupon's expired.

• If you tie your shoes too tight, there's a good chance that over time you'll get a bone spur. The bone spurs can mess with your arteries and it's really painful.

• You're the only one that decides what to put in your mouth.

• You've heard it before, but it's really true: people do start to resemble their pets over time. Your hair...the way you squint your eyes just so...

• People are only listening to 1/3 of what you're saying no matter what it is you're talking about.

• If you eat too much salt one day, the next day you should eat bananas and drink coconut water. 

• If you're really tired, do a backbend. It's like having a shot of espresso. The same is true of an orange.

• Buy ten pairs of sunglasses when you're at the 99 cent store. You'll never feel bad when you sit on them or lose them.

• Famous people are tiny in real life. Almost all of them. 

• If someone's sitting down and you're having a conversation with them, sit or squat down so that you're at their level. Particularly if you're speaking to an older person.

Diane Lane = one of those celebs who is extra tiny in real life.
Also, is it just me or does that dog look like John Cusack?

Thanks, Maria!

Goodnight, 

Margaret

The dos and don'ts of life

DON'T trim your nose hair bare. You'll get sick. It happened to Andy after I bought him an electric trimmer. Turns out, those nose hairs are there for a reason.

DON'T squirt lighter fluid onto charcoal without any eye protection. Bye bye, eyelashes.

DON'T sign up to be an altar girl just because they're having a pizza party for new recruits.

DON'T skip meals.

DON'T pierce your own ears. They'll be lopsided and it'll cause scar tissue.

DON'T put anything you really like in the dryer.

DON'T eat nothing but salad and bran cereal for months hoping that it will cure constipation. It will only make things worse. Imagine piles of twigs and leaves building up behind a river dam.

DON'T use Sun-In if you're a brunette.

DON'T eat chocolate-covered raisins out of a communal container whilst in a hot tub.



DO stay up late watching TV on a weeknight, even though you'll be tired the next day.

DO cry when you stub your toe.

DO read page-turners.

DO try to get out of the house at least once a day.

DO swirl the water with a spoon before you crack the eggs into the pan (when making poached eggs).

DO sleep with your head at the other end of the bed a few nights a month. Just to keep things spicy.

DO make a point to acknowledge and say 'thank you' to your waiter / bartender as you're leaving (Brits taught me this, and it's a good one).

DO give away all your purses and just put your debit card in your pocket.

DO the Puyallup

TTFN,
Margaret

WARNING: Graphic images ahead

Andy "Ram" Williamson is tonight's guest blogger and, like all nerds must do from time to time, he's analysing whether or not he fits in with society. Luckily, he's created a fancy diagram to determine where his opinions stack up against the norm!

---

The hardest part about writing these blogs is ambition. It’s essentially impossible to pick a topic with the whole world at your fingertips. Now I know why Stephen Hawking writes books about the whole universe, or the whole of time. Coward. 

Anyway, if you can’t discover something new, at least you can describe things well. To stick with the scientist theme: Newton and Einstein were famous for the ways that they classified the universe, not the things they invented. Ok, ok, excuses out the way. 

This blog is all about how we see things. Whether the world orbits you, or you orbit the world, it doesn’t matter; it’s all about where you’re standing. 

There was a guy at university who had this Venn diagram t-shirt: 

I absolutely love Venn diagrams (who doesn’t?). Although, looking back, this one actually isn’t correct (you can’t have ‘Music I used to like’ inside the circle ‘Music I like’). I was pretty impressed by it nevertheless. That t-shirt would definitely go on my list: ‘Things I used to like’. 

Although the logic was flawed, the approach was sound. When you think about it, it’s possible to plot everything on a scale of popularity: 

So far so boring. BUT, where it gets interesting is when you add in a second axis, based on your own personal tastes. 

This is where it gets spicy. Now you can plot where you go along with the herd, and where you go against the stream, salmon-style (or Salmond-style if you’re a Scotch politics aficionado). You can also nuance your own likes – there’s room for strong or moderate dislike, and degrees of (un)popularity. 

I had a crack at filling in my own diagram: 

So what do we learn? The main conclusion is that IHEL is by far the easiest bit to fill in. I guess that makes sense: stuff everyone likes is always in the media, and you notice it more if you hate it. ILEL is also pretty easy to do, but probably the most boring. No one cares that you like things that everyone else likes – you’re supposed to! 

On the hatred side of things (or at least less popular, if hate is too strong a word for it), IHEH is pretty hard to do, at least without being super obvious and putting in stuff like ‘prejudice’ or ‘racism’. 

But the real test of character is the ILEH quadrant. That’s what makes you you. All the great people of history are defined by the ILEH section. Martin Luther King Jr. would have had ‘Civil Rights’ in that section; Gandhi and George Washington would have had ‘independence’ (boo!). It’s rare people get famous for beliefs outside of that section. Similarly, if you think about your friends and family, they’re usually definable by what’s in that section too. So I guess that section is the most interesting. Which is pretty bleak when you think about what I put in there. Oh well. 

The only thing the diagram doesn’t show is apathy. I am (ironically) a MASSIVE fan of apathy. I did figure out a way to make apathy an axis, but it involves building a 3-D structure. If there’s enough of a clamour, I’ll put some IKEA-style instructions online. I’m not holding my breath. Any more axes than that and we’re going to need 4 dimensions. Which, I suppose, brings us back to Stephen Hawking. 

Apparently it’s good form to end these blogs with a ‘call to action’ (according to Ms. M. Space herself). So, in the comments, tell me one thing from one of the four segments on YOUR diagram. The more surprising, the better. There’ll be a prize for the best answer. It’ll be a turkey hat or something. I can promise anything I want – I’m only doing this once. Hahahahaha! 

So long suckers! 

Andy

Should've been a cowboy

I wish I'd trained to be a cowboy, rather than going to college and majoring in journalism.

I'm not really sure how cowboys make their money, but you can't beat the lifestyle. Your office is the wild wild west. Your work clothes are jeans and cotton shirt. You're in naturally good shape from lassoing cows, jumping on horses' backs and repairing broken fences on your ranch.

What's not to love?

I'm two days into a three-week copywriting gig and I'm confident that the contemporary office environment is killing us. I know, I know. Scientists have warned of the dangers of a 'sedentary lifestyle' for years now. But I'm only just realising how right they are.

How on earth are people are expected to live happy, healthy lives when they're forced to sit at a desk all day? I'm perplexed!

Save your rebuttals. I already have rebuttals for your rebuttals. Rebuttal THIS:

• YOUR SOLUTION: Just walk to work, take lots of short breaks during the day, go to the gym during your lunch, walk home and plan fun activities in the evening.  

• MY REBUTTAL: Thanks, Yolanda, but that's far too hard. Especially in the winter when the only daylight hours are the exact hours you're expected to work.

• YOUR SOLUTION: Get a job with a company that allows you to work flexible hours and makes it easy for you to work from home when you need to. 

• MY REBUTTAL: Great idea, but those companies are few and far between. I could probably get a job at one, but I'm brilliant.

• YOUR SOLUTION: Sit on an exercise ball instead of a desk chair!

• MY REBUTTAL: I've tried it. Not sustainable. Looks stupid. 

Luckily, a lot of people I know actually do work for those nice companies that "care" about their employees' "work/life balance" and prove it by offering "perks". (Remember, those perks are the least they can do. Don't boost a company's ego by praising it for not treating you like a workhorse.)

Also lucky, I've managed to find a line of work that allows me to avoid the 9-5 grind most of the time. Still, I often wish I did more physical labour. I said that to Andy once and he read me the riot act. I was looking enviously out the window at some builders working on the scaffolding across the street. Here's a taste of that conversation:

Me: "I really wish my work involved physical labour. Don't you? I mean, like, I crave lifting things."

Andy: "No, absolutely not. That's ridiculous. Listen to what you're saying! It's easy to romanticise the idea of physical labour, but they're outside in the cold and you're inside in the warm. You get to sit inside, on a comfy chair, sipping tea and typing on a computer for a living. You should be grateful!"

Me: "But I mowed lawns for the Vancouver, Washington PUD for a month in 2009 and I loved it."

Andy: "You wouldn't love it for the rest of your life."

Me at the 'Couve PUD.
No, I never got to actually drive that thing.
Yes, I ate a Kashi 'Go Lean' bar for lunch every day and was rurrrrrl skinny!

Hmmm. Come to think of it, cowboys do have to smell a lot of cow poop. And again, I'm still unsure about how they get money.

Lots to ponder,

Margaret

Mike Daisey on Brian Williams / My advice for both of them

Mike Daisey has written an article for Slate with some advice for Brian Williams.

In case you've forgotten who Mike Daisey is, he's the one who lied about his experience at the Chinese iPhone factory in that This American Life episode from a while back (retraction episode).

Remember? He said all kinds of kooky made-up things, like how the factory guards had guns and how one worker—hand crippled from an accident on the production line—proclaimed "It's a kind of magic!" when seeing an iPad in action for the first time.

As someone who was caught in a lie and the subject of a major media backlash, Daisey figures he's in a particularly good position to advise Brian Williams on his next steps. Makes sense—a reformed liar takes a recently diagnosed liar under his wing. I like the premise.

In the article, Daisey gives three main pieces of advice. He says:

1. "First and foremost, apologize. Fully and directly."


2. "Next, read all the criticism. Every last lacerating thing someone—especially someone you respect—has to say."


3. "My final piece of advice: Let go of your pride."

That's all great. Good advice. Why couldn't he have left it at that?

Instead, he waffles on about the thought-process behind his lies, what he's learned about the nature of audiences, a Quran quote that inspires him to be better and blah blah blah. He's trying so hard to be the most sincere, repentant person on earth, but somehow he STILL manages to downplay his wrongdoing. It's lines like this that trouble me:

"Williams has more at stake than I ever did—he is, after all, an actual journalist" 

(Distinguishing himself as a non-journalist and therefore not subject to the same standards—he loves to do this.)

AND

"I’m a storyteller and monologist who works in the theater. But I recognize that in many ways what Brian Williams has done is the same thing I did: adding the first person, inserting yourself into stories in order to heighten and intensify their telling."'

(Explaining the reasoning behind the lies, how great storytelling is built on dramatisation.)

AND

"No one tells the unvarnished truth unless he wants to have a very short career—our culture teaches us that it would be far better to be mentally deficient and incompetent than to admit we lied."

(It's our culture's fault! Our culture's to blame!)

Sorry, Mike. I no longer think you're in a good position to be advising Brian Williams. Instead, allow me to impart some wisdom on both of you:

KEEP IT SHORT!

Image by myguitarzz via Wikimedia Commons

When it comes to apologies, no one wants to hear why you did it, what the experience has taught you or the ways you're making strides to be a better person.

All they want to hear is: I did it. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I won't do it again.

It's not up to you whether people forgive you or not, but the more you talk, the more likely you are to dig that hole deeper. Just give it time. Keep it short and give it time.

Cheers,
Margaret

P.S. I am longwinded. Just look at this post! My liberal use of adverbs and adjectives must have Hemingway rolling in his grave (he reads this from the grave, btw).

So, just like Mike Daisey, I am not good at saying "sorry" and then dropping it. Instead, I say sorry repeatedly about an inch from your ear until you're so fed up that you give up and forgive me. I realise that, again like Mike Daisey, I could use a strong dose of my own advice.

Take a risk

Your entire childhood is about reducing risks.

There are two simple goals:

1. Stay alive (aka wear a bike helmet)
2. Get into college (aka do your homework)

Those, I'm fairly comfortable with. Yet, even after the uni years, the warnings continue. People are constantly bombarding you with foreboding words of wisdom.

"Don't walk places at night" 
(or else you'll get murdered!)

"Get an internship" 
(or else you'll never get a job!)

"Establish good credit" 
(or else you'll never buy a house!)

"Get on the property ladder" 
(or else you'll throw all your money down the drain by renting!)

"Start at the bottom and gradually work your way to the top" 
(or else you'll make entry-level wages the rest of your life!)

They have good intensions. And safety is important. So are education and hard work. BUT nobody talks about the positive, practical implications of risk taking. The irony is, being too risk averse is RISKY! It could mean living a boring, unfulfilled life. And what could be worse than that?

Making dynamic decisions is how we discover what makes us happy. Why isn't there at least an equal focus on the benefits of risk taking? Why don't we hear more things like:

"Nobody dies regretting that they travelled to too many places"
(so hit the open road!)

"You'll never know unless you try"
(so give it a go!)

"The most dangerous strategy is to jump a chasm in two leaps"*
(so no half measures!)

"Even when times seem tough, remember that everything tends to work out"
(so worry less!)

OK, it's all a bit hokey and easier said than done. But imagine if we lived in a society where these messages were embedded into the culture rather than reduced to motivational Pinterest fodder. Imagine if we really believed them, if we took them to heart, if our lives weren't ruled by trivial fears.

Nope, not relevant. Just happened to appear in the Google Image search for 'risk taking'.
If it's hot water, the risk paid off. If it's cold water, at least it's a good story!

Image via Wikimedia Commons

My New Year's resolution (yeah, it's the 10th of February. So what?) is not to agonise over decisions. I'm going to weigh potential risks far less heavily than potential gains.

Now, for my first risk of the evening: staying here in bed even though I have to pee really, really bad.

Cheers,
Margaret

*Credit: Benjamin Disraeli and Andy Williamson

Polar and Naked Mole Rat

I have two hot water bottles. I know, I know. I'm not usually one to brag, but hot water bottles actually aren't that expensive! And boy do they do a great job of keeping you warm in the freezing Scottish winter.

One sits in a white, faux fur case. I call that one Polar.

The other is blue, with a geometric pattern on its back. That one doesn't have a case, so I call it Naked Mole Rat.

They make a darling pair.

Polar, with his coat of fur, isn't as hot at first, but he stays warm longer. NMR is piping right after you fill him, but he cools down quickly.

My babies. My GORGEOUS BABIES!

Hot water bottle tips

• Always use boiling water out of the kettle. Yes, this will cause the water bottle to eventually melt and leak. But hot water from the tap simply isn't scalding enough. 

• Put the hot water bottle under your covers 30 minutes before you plan to get in bed. That way your sheets will be nice and toasty for you at bedtime. 

• After pouring the boiling water down the neck of the hot water bottle, squeeze it at the shoulders so that it's air-tight around the waterline before you screw the cap back in. This makes the hot water bottle nice and squidgy. If you don't get all the air out, it will feel hard and bloated when you go to cuddle it. 

• In the middle of the night, when you realise it's gone cold, throw it out of bed like an old sock. It's no good to you anymore and it's taking up precious bed space. Girl bye! 

Goodnight,
Margaret

What will shock us when we're older?

Our parents are shocked by rap videos. Their parents were shocked by Elvis' gyrating hips. Their parents were shocked by a glimpse of the female ankle.

What will shock us?

I really can't think of what it will be.

Image Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Inc. via Wikimeda Commons

Each decade, the popstars wear less. It's gotten to the point that they're now just naked. Miley Cyrus posts full on naked pictures of herself on Instagram and we're just like, "Yeah... Anyway, where did you put the pretzels?"

Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, polysexual, pansexual, asexual—we're fine with them all. Everything's great. It's all OK. Not shocking. Increasingly not even interesting.

Every other day I watch a guy shoot fireworks out of his butt on YouTube. I'm not proud of it, but I once watched a 7-minute video of a woman popping her husband's ginormous neck zit. It was only later, lying in bed that night, that it dawned on me: that wasn't a zit at all; it was a BOIL.

Anyway, you get the idea. Nothing is shocking. Not nudity. Not sexual orientation. Not gross stuff.

I absolutely love that we've reached this inclusive, 'who gives a rip' stage in human history (by "we" I mean young liberal people).

But I still have a sneaking suspicion that, when I'm 90, the "kids these days" will do something that shocks me. I'll ask my grandkids to explain it to me, and I'll tell them stories of how "In my day, you used to have to wear clothes at the supermarket." And they'll laugh at the very idea.

I regularly promise myself (with Andy as my witness) that, even as the world changes around me, I will always be open to new ideas. No matter how tempting it is, I'll resist the urge to cling to the past out of fear and nostalgia. It's the better way to be.

Still, I'm curious. What will shock us? Displaying taxidermied human relatives in our living rooms as home décor? Maybe.

Your wise ol' pal,
Margaret

P.S. Man, there's something about being 28 that makes you think about ageing like you never have before. It's bizarre. Maybe it's the wrinkles I just noticed around my eyes. Or maybe it's the fact that I don't really understand who Calvin Harris is. Whatever it is, it's causing me to cry at HSBC commercials and write blog post oaths to my future 90-year-old self.

Things they should teach in school

Ahoy hoy. Another day, another blog. Let's get stuck in, shall we?

I am constantly reminded of how ill equipped for adulthood I am. And it's not like I'm a fresh-faced 18-year-old. I've been an adult for a decade now! School did a really good job of teaching me about Paul Revere, photosynthesis, the Donner Party and the Pythagorean theorem, but it left me in the dark about some pretty important topics. Here are just a few things I wish I was taught in school:

Taxes
Every year you guess your way through a bunch of forms, and then a month later the government sends you a check for some arbitrary amount that you just assume squares everything away. TAXES. WTF. Other than death, they're the only inevitable part of life. Yet, just like death, we don't have a clue what they're all about.

Taxes are a huge cause of stress in our lives and a major component of our sociopolitical environment, and yet we never get taught ANYTHING about them in school. Even the totally sane, in no way mentally ill, former defence secretary Donald Rumsfeld (and his wife, a college graduate) can't wrap his head around taxes.

Loans/mortgages
We all leave college with loans. We all eventually get a mortgage (although I'm not convinced I ever will). Wouldn't it behoove us to enter adulthood with some rudimentary knowledge of interest rates, down payments and credit scores? High school guidance counselors are great at supplying us with university brochures, but it would have been nice to learn the basics of investment planning before making a massive financial commitment at the age of 18.

First aid
This one seems so obvious that I'm sure Bob Education, or whoever it was that invented school, simply overlooked it when assembling the syllabi. If every teenager learned CPR, how to dress a wound (ew), the applications/dangers/benefits of common medicines, LIVES WOULD BE SAVED.

It seems so strange that, if you want to learn basic first aid, you have to sign up and PAY(!!) for a class. Free first aid classes seem like the exact type of thing taxes could subsidise. But then again, I know nothing about taxes.

Basic car mechanics
Like, where's the battery? Where does the oil go? How much is too much to pay for tires? I'm not talking rocket science. And I'm not looking to put mechanics out of business. I just think that kids should leave school with a rough idea of what's under the hood (bonnet for you Brits) of a car.

"Please, sir, can you teach me about taxes?"

I am presenting this adorable photo of a young Keeley Fitz (my niece) to bring my point home.  

This child represents our future. Teach her well and let her lead the way. Show her all the beauty she possesses inside. Give her a sense of pride, to make it—OH ALRIGHT THEN, ladies and gentlemen, I am honoured to call to the stage the legendary Whitney Houston.


 Cheers,
Margaret

Little things that keep me sane

Life is strange, and the fact that we get through most days without an existential crisis is actually pretty impressive. How do we do it? We build our days around the little things that make us happy.

Here are some little things that I try to work into my daily routine. Feel free to add them to your own routines — I am no hog.

• Candles — I can't sing their praises enough. They're these small cylinders made of wax. A tiny piece of rope runs through the middle of them and pokes out the top. You light the rope and it burns slowly, creating a peaceful ambiance for hours. If you've never owned a candle before, I recommend you go buy one today!

• Coffee — Much like Mr. G, I need a cup 'o joe before I start the day. But I also like to drink coffee when I don't need it. I love the taste, the warmth, the smell and the activity aspect of drinking high quality coffee (I love an activity). 

• Downward Dog — Yoga is the best form of exercise. Why? Because afterward you feel like you've run a 10k AND had an hour's massage. It's fantastic. Unfortunately, I am too lazy and cheap to attend regular yoga classes. Instead, I just do 'Down Dog' for a while in my flat. It seems to do the job.

• Podcasts — Andy makes fun of me because I take my iPod with me when I take out the garbage. It's only a 2-minute journey to the dumpster, but listening to a podcast makes it better! Recently, I've been enjoying the 'This American Life' spinoff, 'Serial' (Note: if you're interested in Serial, make sure to start with the first episode). 

• Reality TV — If television is "chewing gum for the eyes", then reality television is...Starbucks' Tazo® Zen™ tea for the brain? Yes, I think that analogy works. Watching 'Geordie Shore', 'America's Next Top Model' and 'Real Housewives' is an ideal way to quiet the mind. 

• 'To Do' lists — Confession time: I add things that I've already done to my 'To Do' lists just so I can cross them off and feel great about myself. Today I added 'Get haircut' to the list AFTER I returned from the salon and then immediately crossed it off.

I feel like I've written this exact blog post before. Am I running out of material already? This ain't good. Maybe I will start keeping a journal of my daily experiences/encounters/thoughts, like David Sedaris does. 

Something I've come to terms with at the ripe age of 28 is the fact that motivation levels always ebb and flow. Some days you're TCB-ing like Richard Branson, and other days you're writing long 'To Do' lists comprised only of tasks you've already completed. 

Feeling guilty about unproductive days just isn't productive. Instead, enjoy those days and know that your next burst of motivation is just around the corner. Remind yourself that, if you actually had a pressing deadline, you would get the work done. 

As B*Witched would say, c'est la vie!

Cheers,
Margaret

Freak

My boyfriend has a giant brain. It’s thick like a truck tyre. His hippocampus is as big as a hippo’s. His medulla oblongata is more oblong than most. 

Everyday people pay to meet with him. They want to experience his bulky, bulbous brain for themselves. His head’s on the large side, they think, but the real evidence emerges when he speaks. His words are swift and confident. Too eloquent to be improvised, but too specific to be scripted. Where do they come from? It can only be from that colossal cranium. That muscular data sponge. That humongous monster brain, brimming with facts and ideas.

They test him with questions. Flinging from topic to topic, they try to lose him. But he hangs on.

What does a crab eat? Why is Dubai like it is? Who invented the bicycle?

The freak can’t be stumped.

Keen as a Bean

Mrs.Bean, the world's best school bus driver, taped a sign in the bus window that said, "It's nice to be important, but it's more important to be nice." What a doll. On the last day of school she gave us all copies of the quote that she'd printed out on small bits of paper and laminated. I promised myself I would keep it forever.

I would say "and it's still hanging up on my bedroom bulletin board to this very day," but I have just learned that my room has recently been swept of any last remnants of my existence so it can be transformed into a nursery for Baby Fitz. Somehow I doubt Mrs.Bean's small laminated message made the cut.

Hmmm...this says the author is unknown, but here it is credited to Alyssa Milano.
Who to believe?

Perhaps it's for the best that this dear childhood keepsake got the heave-ho. The more I think about the quote, the more I find it misleading. Indeed, being nice AND ALSO being important is the best outcome of them all. Why not strive for both?

Here are some tips for being nice and important that I've learned from my friends/fam.

Being Nice:

Scratch other people's arms or give them back massages when they ask. (Martha Foley)

If you have a car, be grateful and offer to give those without one a ride. (Tori Mueller)

Keep bandaids handy at all times so you can instantly offer them to the wounded. (Barbie and Char)

Being Important:

Type "sent from blackberry" or "sent from iPad" at the bottom of your emails. Much cheaper than actually buying one and it has the same image-boosting effect! (Andy)

Refer to yourself as "Doctor" when making a doctor appointment or asking the Verizon rep for a cell phone upgrade. It slices through bureaucracy like a Cutco knife through an avocado. (Nancy Padden)


Unfortunately, that's all I have at the moment. I've been struggling for blog topics in what has been the inevitable comedown from my Special K winnings. Luckily, I have something to look forward to. I'm going to go to Oxford (famous university for smart people in England) for a fancy dinner at the beginning of June. Talk about being important! Also, it's a chance to debut the dress.

Well, I'm off to trade the Edinburgh blood bank a pint of my blood for a fun-sized chocolate bar (several, actually). Worth it.

Bye,

Margaret

Homie Don't Play That

A few weeks ago my dear pal Andy challenged me to a breath-holding competition. Actually, maybe he just asked me how long I could hold my breath for. It might not have even been a challenge. Either way, I immediately REFUSED. Simply put, I don't play those games.

Why? Holding my breath for longer than my body wants me to is not in any way enjoyable. What do people get out of such an absurd activity? Weren't TV and the Internet invented so we never had to suffer through such pointless recreation? Even without modern entertainment, I would gladly choose boredom over self-imposed lung agony. Holding your breath kills brain cells too.

Games I don't play:

1. Holding my breath for a competition or even just a personal challenge

2. Pinching people on St. Patrick's Day. (This is fine in theory, except that pinching is the cruelest possible form of human torture imaginable. The pain seems minimal and temporary initially but it grows exponentially. YOWCH, the lingering sting of a pinch makes me SO angry. So, green or no green, have no fear. I don't play those games because the world doesn't need any more violence and suffering).

3. The mystery shoulder tap. (UGH. COME ON. When someone sneakily taps you on the shoulder but is not there when you turn to look at them it is not funny AND a complete waste of a head turn. I am not an owl- turning my head isn't all peaches and gravy for me. It takes a fair bit of energy! There's always the risk of twisting it too fast so that bizarre/horrendous/hot discomfort shoots up your neck. It's like--CONGRATULATIONS, you've tricked me. I feel like a fool. A fool with a sore neck).

4. "Chicken Fights" in a swimming pool. (You know, when two girls get on two boys' shoulders and swat at each other until someone falls off. My refusal to play this game is threefold. First, plopping my scantily-clad arse onto some guy's shoulders so that both him and I can secretly wish I was 30 pounds lighter doesn't sound good for the ego. Secondly, clawing at a fellow female for the amusement of the enemy gender is just wrong. AND third, what if I fall off, my swimsuit gunders slide down accidentally, I hit my head on the side of the pool, my head cracks open, I lose a lot of blood, and I die?!?! Not my idea of a good time).

5. No Food/Drink Rules. (I ate an orange on the fifth floor of the library the other day. Sue me. What if I had low blood sugar? I could be a hypoglycemic or a diabetic for God sakes. Or what, pray tell, if I am just HUNGRY. I am 23 years old, I promise not to make a mess. I won't bring some stinky curry dish into the library and slurp it up loudly. Can't I be trusted to eat an orange, or a little chunk of dark chocolate, or a few Scottish oat cakes?).


Games I do play:

1. Don't move for anyone game. (This one is particularly fun when walking down the Royal Mile).
2. Would You Rather
3. The Cliff Game
4. Let's go around in a circle and say what we like best about each other and what we like LEAST. HAHA!
5. Safety/Doorknob
6. SHOTGUN!
7. TapTap Place Back
8. The License Plate Game
9. Slugbug
10. Prank Calls
11. Dance-offs
12. Make Your Ugliest Face
13. Wearing My Seat Belt
14. Thumb Wars
15. Returning My Shopping Cart


Did this post make sense? I don't really think so but I think it might not matter.

Love,

Margaret

Don't Fence Me In

Is this a blog of personal reflections? Is it a pop-culture blog? Is it philosophical? Is it funny? Is it interesting? Is it just confused?

Perhaps at times it is all of these things, but I am OK with that. Cohesiveness has its place (scrapbooking, powerpoint presentations, runway shows, "real"/professional blogs...etc.), and it ain't here. 

So don't put Madgespace in a box. It is, in its very essence, a hodge podge. 

See, now that made me think of Modge Podge, the crafting goo. A professional blogger may let that thought pass and move onto a meaningful subject, but not me.

Modge Podge adheres photographs onto objects and makes them glossy. My family went through about a year-long obsession with the stuff. 

It's actually "Mod Podge", but for some reason we always refered to it as Modge Podge. Proper pronunciation is not a Padden/Kay family strong suit. We say "pin" when we mean "pen" and we overemphasize the "oh" sound in words like bowling, swollen and gorgonzola. My college friends call it the "Kenmore accent."

Anyway, Modge Podge dominated the birthday present scene for a good while in our house. Cut up some photos, schlop them onto the side of an old picture frame, candle holder, or slab of wood from the garage, smear on a heavy coat of Modge Podge and viola- you've got yourself a homemade, heartfelt, gift. 

Next topic: Flossing and Life-Span

I just found out that people who floss daily live longer lives than non-flossers. Ever since my parasitic crisis, I've been determined to be a HEALTHY person. I want to live a long time and have soft, radiant skin, strong bones and a lot of great grandchildren. When I'm 80 I want to wake up in the morning with joyful energy. If flossing is one step toward that future, then hand over the floss!

Ihre Gesundheit, 

Madge

Present Politics...

You're lying if you don't think "presents" are the best part of Christmas. 

Ok, I know that sounds materialistic and shallow, but gift giving and the thoughtfulness that goes into it is what Christmas is all about. Duh, it isn't about what you get or how much was spent but the love/caring represented by the gesture. 

This is why I HATE it when people set price limits on gifts, freak out about whether their gift is less expensive than the one the person is giving them, give gifts out of obligation, make Christmas lists so that everyone gets something they "really want"- UGHHHHH. STOP IT! That makes the whole tradition of gift-giving seem so formulaic and dull. 

I could go on and on about this, but ya get my point. Presents are great, but all the stupid politics that go along with them are ridiculous. 

Now bring me some figgy pudding, 

Madge

What's the world coming to?

Please tell me I'm not the only who's noticed that the phrase "I know- right?" has invaded the everyday American vernacular recently? Like a non-indigenous species of english ivy, these insanely annoying three words are creeping into classrooms, households and bagel shops across the countryside, winding their way into the vocabulary of even the least likely of characters. 

Today I was dumbfounded to hear one dude on a longboard say it to another dude on a longboard! Their conversation went something like this: 

Dude #1: Brah, I totally got a 95% on that test. 

Dude #2: Man, that's so good.

Dude #1: I know- right? I totally didn't see that coming.

Dude #2: Pretty sweet, dude. Alright, talk to ya later.

Enough is enough!

Don't even get me started on the American auto companies!

One positive bit of news to come out of today's cruel, confusing world is that Mother's Circus Animal Cookies are not going away after all! If you were shocked and saddened by the announcement that Mother's had shut down, dry your eyes- these delicious pink and white morsels live on! Kellogg has bought all their recipes and will reintroduce them into a grocery store near you soon. 

YUM. I know- right? 

-Madge