Lessons I Learned my 39th Year on Earth September 30, 2011

Lesson 5:  The amount of stress you experience in life can be greatly reduced by assuming  everything will be ten times harder than it should be.

Spoiler Alert… Fairy tales are not real.  I know that’s going to come as a crushing blow to some of you, because I too spent a large portion of my life, thinking someone would sweep me off my feet, and provide the happily ever after.  At the very LEAST, I figured I’d become the independent career women who could take care of herself.  What a harsh dose of reality it was to discover both scenarios are fiction.

In fact, think of life as something more aligned with a mechanical bull.  The best you can do is train hard, saddle up, and hold on for dear life.  Even then, there’s a decent chance you’ll wind up with your arm in a sling somewhere along the way.  I was recently reminded of this fact with something as simple as my phone service going out.

It should have been a fairly simple problem to resolve.  Your home phone isn’t working… so you call the repairman with your cell.  Little did I know that what should have taken an hour would usurp my energy for the better part of two weeks.  It all started with (wait for it) a call to Comcast.

I use this provider for my phone, internet, and cable for “convenience”.  Don’t even get me started!  This is the second time in a month I’ve had to reach out to them, and just scheduling an appointment is worse than a root canal.  I’d rather be punched in the throat by a mixed martial artist than place one of these calls.

The first hurdle is just getting a human being on the phone, but even after you do, he or she will spend the next half hour having you run around the house jiggling wires and unplugging cables before coming to the conclusion that you need a professional, which is what you told them in the first place.  After the customer (poor) service rep and you are on the same page, you’ll need to identify a 3-hour block of time that’s “convenient” for the repairman to show up.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a three uninterrupted hours free the entire month of September, let alone in one day!

Less than two minutes after making the appointment, I got an automated call on my cell phone from Comcast asking me to confirm that I still had a problem.  Really?!  How much could my situation have possibly changed in 120 seconds?

The day of the service call, the robot checked back in to make SURE my stuff was still broken.  I patiently pressed two, left a detailed list of instructions for my girlfriend who had agreed to babysit the cable guy, and left for work.  Imagine my surprise, when I got off the news set to a voice mail from the repair man saying he wasn’t showing up because I didn’t answer his call.  Apparently, I’m supposed to keep my ringer on during a live broadcast and put our viewers on hold for the cable guy.  I’m not kidding when I say that this message was the grown up equivalent of being told there is no Santa Claus.

I frantically dialed the number on my caller ID to beg for mercy.  Of course, instead of reaching him, I was re-routed to the robot and eventually a human being who informed me that if you don’t answer your phone you’re basically dead to them.

How can this be?  What if I were a heart surgeon?  Do they expect me to put someone’s transplant on hold to chit-chat with the cable guy?  What about when President Obama’s cable goes out?  Does he say, “Pardon me Mr. Netanyahu… it’s the cable guy.  I absolutely must take this call.”  It’s preposterous!  Have a little faith Comcast.  I’m already begging for help and giving you a three-hour window.  Do you really think I’m going to stand you up?

After debating this for several minutes with the nice guy from Comcast, I finally booked another three-hour window of time I don’t have to get it fixed.  The sanity of the world was restored.  The phone was working.  My internet was lightning fast.  I actually found the cable guy to be quite endearing.

My daughter spent the weekend with her dad, but on Monday she bolted up to her room to watch a little Spongebob.  Imagine my surprise when she said, “Mooooooom… my t.v. isn’t working.”  Anyone know a good mixed martial artist?

Lessons I Learned in my 39th Year on Earth September 14, 2011

Lesson 4:  Wisdom without common sense is completely useless

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve spent several decades of my life on a personal quest for wisdom.  The bookshelves of my home look like the self-help section of Barnes and Noble.  I’ve gone deep into the wee hours of the night reading the Bible in an effort to unlock the secrets to a happy life.  Over the years, I’ve consulted an entire team of therapists in an effort to locate my “inner child”.  At the end of this exhaustive quest, I’ve concluded that common sense is just as important, and unfortunately, a lot of people lack it.

About a month ago my daughter broke her arm in two places.  Ironically, this nasty spill happened at church, during a friendly game of “Fruit of the Spirit” tag.  Go figure!  Anyway, the night it happened, I completely ignored the seriousness of the situation.  I strapped an ice pack on her, crammed some ibuprofen down her throat, and told her to go to bed.  The next morning, when she was still in pain, I asked my mom to take her to the doctor, who told me to schedule an x-ray at Vanderbilt ASAP.  Suffice to say, this wasn’t one of my “Mom of the Year” moments.

When I called to schedule, the lady said, “You’re appointment is at 7:00.  It won’t take ten minutes.  You can still have her to school on time!”  Come again?  Have you ever known of a hospital that has people in and out in ten minutes?  I can’t get through the line at Chik-Fil-A in ten minutes.  As a matter of fact, it usually takes me ten minutes at a hospital just to locate the right entrance.  If I’m ever experiencing a life-threatening situation, I’ll pay for an ambulance.  Vandy is only two blocks away, but it would be a shame to bleed out trying to get in the building.

The reporter in me started wondering if Vanderbilt had installed a drive-thru x-ray machine that I’m unaware of.  Surely the station would have done a story on that!  If not… they should.  Sadly, the answer is no.  The magic drive-thru x-ray machine is the subject of folklore, and as expected, we were there for three and a half hours.  It was a wait that left me acutely aware of the stupidity we’re surrounded by.  It’s truly worse than I thought.

As we were rattling off information to the super nice lady at the check-in counter, she asked if my daughter had ever been there before.  I proudly said no, only to have her look at me like I had somehow escaped from the nearby psych ward.  She lowered her glasses to ensure proper eye contact, and asked the question again, “So you’re telling me… your daughter has never been admitted here before.”  To which I reply, “Ah… not that I’m aware of.”  After a pause which seemed to last FOREVER, she says, “You’d be surprised” then dismissed us to the lobby.

What exactly would I be surprised by?  Is it possible that people take their children to the hospital and have no recollection of it?  Do people sneak other people’s children to the hospital and forget to mention it?  I was truly stumped by this, as was my daughter when I began interrogating her in the bathroom about whether she had ever been here without my consent.

A half hour later the nice lady called us up to the counter where she asked us to repeat our information.  While entering it into the computer she looked up and said, “I’ll be darn.  You’re right.  She’s never been admitted.”  It’s like she spent the entire time suspicious of my answer!  I should have ignored her and kept moving.  I KNOW that, but instead, I said, “This is really bugging me.  Are there parents who bring their children to the emergency room and DON’T remember it?”  To which she said, “Honey… you’d be surprised!” 

That’s it.  I’m sold.  Humans, as a race, are unconscionably stupid.  There’s no need for further evidence.  The whole thing actually reminded me of a bumper sticker I saw a while back that said, “If ignorance is bliss… why aren’t there happy people in the world?”  At the time, I thought it was funny and posted it on Facebook, but now I realize, that’s a legitimate question!  King Solomon might as well have uttered it himself.

So I leave you with this on this sunny September day… in our constant pursuit of wisdom let’s not forget the little things, like turning your car off when you get where you’re going.  Just start there and build.  The path to greatness is achieved one step at a time.

Recommended Reading:  The Bible: Ecclesiastes

Lessons I Learned my 39th Year on Earth September 12, 2011

Lesson 3:  Relationships are always more work than you think they’re going to be… particularly when one of the parties has four legs.

I’ve decided that dogs should come with some sort of warning label.  They should say something along the lines of, “Beware.  No matter how much you think this dog won’t jump on your Z Gallerie couch with his filthy paws, use your hardwood floor as a bathroom, or chew up your favorite pair of Nine West pumps… he will.”      

For at least three years, my daughter has been begging me for a second dog, and for more than a thousand straight days, I’ve held my ground like a Navy Seal.  Not only have I refused her request, but for good measure, I’ve cheerily remind her that she never so much as lifts a finger to take care of the dictator, named Prince Charming, that we currently have living with us.

Somehow the idea of having to pick up our miniature dachshund’s turds has always been enough to keep her at bay, but two weeks ago… after our home was broken into for a 2nd time… I was finally convinced to adopt a Doberman from the shelter for “security”.  Only now is it dawning on me that I would have been better off investing in a good set of motion lights, or perhaps some cheap surveillance equipment.

High tech gadgets don’t spend the entire night howling from the garage.  They don’t bite your neighbors Pyrenees through the fence… requiring a visit from the local police, and more importantly, they don’t slip through the iron gate while you’re at church, take a nap on the yellow line of the street, and get hauled off to the pound.  You think I’m kidding?  I’m not.  I have the police report to prove it.

Last Sunday, we pulled into the garage still basking from a great sermon at church.  Within thirty seconds, our lives had erupted into complete pandemonium.  The worst had happened.  Contrary to my words that Rocky Balboa was waaaaaay to big to get out of the fence, he had somehow escaped… thrusting us into the world of the lost dog.

Every cheesy kid’s movie I’ve ever seen flooded my memory bank.  Would we have to make posters and affix them to area street posts?  Do we walk around the neighborhood in the drizzling rain… yelling his name?  yes and yes.  My daughter wailed for an hour as we tried desperately to locate Rocky Balboa to no avail.

At one point we even accosted a passerby with a similar dog.  We darted across a busy street in our flip-flops CONVINCED that she had stolen our prized shelter dog.  By the time we got close enough to see the can of mace in her hand, it became crystal clear that the dog on her leash was NOT, in fact, Rocky.  Shouldn’t it have been a sign that a dog nabber wouldn’t be parading the stolen goods in front of the home he was taken from?  I digress.

Thank God for the magnetic chip that was implanted in him!  Once things settled down, and I could think clearly… I called the Humane Society.  The lady on the other end of the line chuckled as if she spent hours waiting on my call.  “Hey…” she yelled in the background.  “It’s the t.v. lady.  It’s their dog!”  Apparently, Rocky had made quite a name for himself while living at the shelter.

Someone who lives in our neighborhood had scooped him up off the pavement, where he was taking a nap, and taken him to a family reunion in Cookeville, before promising a safe return later that afternoon.  Not to worry… I thought!  The caper would come to a close once these kind people were finished with their chicken and dumplings, and sure enough… it did.

Who knew something so cute and seemingly harmless could be so all-consuming?  I can’t help but think that I should have seen this coming well in advance.  After all, our dachshund was nearly bald on both sides before I took him to the vet to investigate.  We’re already cramming Benadryl down one K-9’s throat two times a day for a skin disorder and saving up for a hair transplant.  What on Earth ever made me think we were equipped to join the ranks of animal planet?

This week, I resorted to strapping a doggie life jacket onto him to keep his sleek physique within the boundaries of our fence.  He looks completely ridiculous running around the yard.  On the bright side… the jacket has a handle on top that allows us to carry him around like a cooler for outdoor parties and functions.  He’s become quite the conversation piece.

In the month he’s lived with us, Rocky has slowly started become like a member of the family.  Right now, he’s sort of like that drunk cousin you have to go bail out of jail a couple of times a year, but we’re working on his behavior and accepting his mistakes.

As he hauled all 60 pounds of himself into my lap over the weekend and fell asleep like a baby, I couldn’t help but think… dogs are like every other relationship.  They’re only as good as the work you put into them.  One day, he may get a chance to save our lives or protect our belongings.  Until then, we’ll keep making deposits in his love bank and hoping for the best.

Suggested Reading:  5 Love Languages, Gary Chapman

http://www.5lovelanguages.com/