Fond Memories

When I got my hair cut short and I wore it in a sort of "fauxhawk" fashion, one of my coworkers told me that it reminded her of a Smurf, and she began calling me "Smurfette."  Since I took it so well, she made a point to post random photos of Smurfette on the outside of my cubicle.  Some might think that's offensive.  I think it's endearing.

Today, as I was sitting at my desk, she came up and said, "Oh!  I see you have a new family photo up... that's wonderful!" while she pointed to the outside of my cubicle.  I was a little confused, so I went out to where she was, and sure enough-- there was a photo of the Smurfs (similar to the one on the left) with a caption that read "Family Reunion."  Ah, I love my artist coworkers :)

I made a point to tell my sister about this, because I was quite tickled by the new artwork in my workspace.  I mentioned to her that "The Smurfs" movie was coming out in a couple weeks, and my department is pretty excited about my big debut.  We then discussed the new movie about the little blue creatures, and it quickly moved to Saturday morning cartoons, where she used to catch episodes of the Smurfs every so often.

Naturally, our conversation spiraled into a nostalgic trip down Memory Lane.  We talked about TV shows, commercials, toys, and characters that we remembered.  We both have very fond memories of our childhood -- for many reasons, not just for TV shows.  We spent much of our chidlhood taking the characters that we saw in our toys/books/music/television, and making up stories and games out of them.

Today we talked about Smurfs, ShirtTales, Punky Brewster, Garfield, My Little Pony, Popeye, Carebears, Inspector Gadget, Gumby, Rainbow Brite, The Jetsons, Flinstones, Scooby-Doo, California Raisins, Strawberry Shortcake...  All great shows - and now you can only find them on special-order DVDs and limited-edition lunchboxes from online "retro" stores.

We had a California Raisins lunchbox when I was little - you know, one of those cool plastic ones that included a matching Thermos.  And let's not forget one of my favorites-- the Cabbage Patch Kids lunchbox-- the image on the front of the box was of one CBKid with her desktop flipped up, and she was eating her PB&J sandwich, while her friend next to her was appalled that she would be violating classroom rules like that.  It always made me hungry for PB&J.

At the risk of belaboring the subject, Cabbage Patch Kids ROCKED.  What kid born around the 80s didn't adore these guys?  Not just the dolls-- there was memorabilia too.  One of my favorites was our Cabbage Patch Kids album -- yes, I'm referring to vinyl.  It wasn't enough to own a doll, complete with the soft, simply-assembled body (their arms were really just nylons stuffed with some sort of stuffing, right?), the large, hard, oversized head with obnoxious dimples, and a head full of yarn hair...  we had to be able to sing along to the Kids' favorite songs too.  And if you click here, you can sing along as well :)  Click on the "play" button to the left of each song title to preview the song.  Make sure to pay extra close attention to MY FAVORITE: #6, The Bunnybee Song-- you'll find yourself buzzing along in no time.  However, the preview on Amazon doesn't do it justice-- you'll have to go to the YouTube video (here) to get the whole song-- my favorite part, the buzzing, starts around 1:00 into the song.  All the songs, for some reason, feature some pretty strong banjo music... so be prepared.

THEN I asked my sister if she remembered Disney's "One Saturday Morning" (and yes, even as I type it, I still have to sing it the way it was meant to be sung-- if you know One Saturday Morning, you know the jingle to which I'm referring).  She had heard of it, but wasn't totally familiar-- but I think she was a little older when it aired.  Anyway, One Saturday Morning was the block of Saturday morning cartoons on ABC-- featuring shows like Recess, Pepper Ann (one of my favorite theme songs of all time), and Doug.  The hosts of One Saturday Morning were a girl named Mimi and a talking elephant named Jelly Roll... why not? 

Recess-- one of my all-time favorites.  A show about the "dramatic" lives of fourth graders at Third Street School.  Whether in class or out on the playground, they must deal with peer pressure, stormy weather that moves recess inside for [what seems like] eternity, and the evil regime of Miss Finster, a staff member whose main purpose in life is to ruin recess for the students at Third Street.  There is an elite group of "the Ashleys," which is only fair (if you're around my age, how many "Ashleys" did you go to school with?  Popular name...).  Ah, a good show.

Okay, one last nostalgic comment-- long ago and far away, ABC featured a block of television shows airing on Friday nights-- appropriately named "TGIF."  Shows like Perfect Strangers, Full House, Family Matters, Hanging with Mr. Cooper, Step by Step, Boy Meets World, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Clueless, Two of a Kind...  those were good days.  A block of family-friendly television on Friday nights?  What happened to that?  Look at ABC now--  Friday nights feature Supernanny and Wife Swap, with the occasional rerun of Grey's Anatomy.  Not quite the same.

Nothing will ever be the same, though, will it?  Gone are the days of simple cartoons, actual dolls, Teddy Ruxpin (yes, a breakthrough teddy bear that ACTUALLY TALKED, with the aid of 4 batteries, not included), banjo songs about children born as produce, and family-friendly primetime shows.  Now every 8-year-old kid is wrapped up in an iPhone and a PSP.  I guess we can say good-bye to creativity and intelligent thinking.  As long as our thumbs work, who cares about the brain?

Did You Hear About ___??

"You can tell more about a person by what he says about others than by what others say about him."

Ah, gossip: literally, one of those things that you can't stand to live with, yet you'd rather not live without.  When was the last time you heard a really juicy story about someone, and you were tempted to immediately pass it along?  Of course, it's possible that you exhibited amazing self-control and opted out of passing it along (good for you!), but more often than not, we find ourselves in a mad rush to tell the nearest person what we've just heard.  These stories are often lengthy, riddled with details (whether they're 100% true or not), and we don't often hesitate to add our own spin.

Let's try this again: when was the last time you heard a really wonderful/uplifting story about someone, and you were tempted to pass it on?  Yes, I know, we've all heard these great stories and have felt compelled to share them, but the tales usually don't come till a while later: "Oh, speaking of jobs... I forgot to tell you, Sally got that job she's been working for!"  These stories are usually short, free of many details, and downright dull. 

Wouldn't our world be a better place if we spent more time elaborating on the good things in people, rather than spreading bad news about them?  I was reading through a book of poetry last night, and I happened upon a poem called "I Know Something Good About You." I got to thinking how much simpler life could be if we would spend more time sharing pleasant thoughts, and less time spreading those viral negative stories.  Below are a few lines from the poem (you can read the entire poem HERE if you like -- it's not long, but worth reading). 

"Wouldn't life be lots more happy

If the good that's in us all

Were the only thing about us

That folks bothered to recall?

Wouldn't life be lots more happy

if we praised the good we see?

For there's such a lot of goodness

In the worst of you and me!"

Next time you start to feel that urge to gossip, control yourself for a second.  As tempting as it might be to share the dirt on So-and-so, try to think of something positive to say about them.  I'm a firm believer in karma-- what goes around, comes around.  Say something pleasant; the positivity will come back to you ten times over.

This has gotta be the good life.

Yeah, I'm a bit of a nerd. I like to hang out at Barnes & Noble (there are far less intellectual ways to spend one's time, I guess). I like to hang out in the "self-help" section... seems like the most interesting people loom around there. The other day when I was there, I picked up a book called "God Never Blinks" by Regina Brett.  Not sure why it caught my eye, but I'm glad it did. I couldn't put it down. It was like one big blog on life. The author had hit quite a few speedbumps along the road of life, and this book contains 50 musings on the lessons she's learned along the way. If you can get to Barnes & Noble or a library TODAY, do it. You won't be sorry. If you thought your life wasn't in order, get a load of this lady. Her book is appropriately named-- some days she feels as though God "blinked" when she was born, and so she was forgotten along the way somewhere.  She's experienced it all, and she'll help you see the sunny side of anything (with a chuckle or two along the way).

One of the first stories in the book mentions a friend of hers who lives by the phrase "get to." He doesn't have to go to work; he gets to go to work. He doesn't have to go grocery shopping; he gets to go grocery shopping. He's thankful for every opportunity, even the unsatisfactory ones.

Funny how some people view life like that, and others (like me, I admit) see those opportunities as obligations. Sometimes life seems to be going less-than-perfectly, but it always helps to sit back and look at what's going WELL. Despite how I may come off, not everything is perfect in my life (but I had you fooled, didn't I? haha). Today was another unusual day, one of those days when a smile can be difficult to produce. But the day is done, and I'm sitting on my balcony, watching the sun set over Portage. There is a family enjoying a barbecue in the courtyard, and the three young girls who live below me are chasing millions of fireflies around the gazebo. I can hear Disney's Beauty and the Beast through the open window of a nearby apartment, and I am humming along to songs I remember from my childhood (and as I pay attention to the lyrics and dialogue as an adult, I realize exactly how ridiculous they are).

Yeah, this has gotta be the good life.  It's the only one I've got.  I don't have to live my life-- I get to live it.  So I will.  Damn the torpedos and full speed ahead :)

The Right Direction

I got my first (and only) tattoo a few years ago.  It was something I'd already been considering for a while.  After a few years of pondering, I still wanted it, so I decided to go for it.  I had been in Argentina for a couple months, and there were a few extra pesos jingling around in my pocket.  When in Argentina...  :)   (Disclaimer:  Adequate research was done, and I went to the best tattoo parlor in the city... so please don't think I trotted over to a grass shack and had ink injected into me by some random gaucho.)  At a bargain price of only 80 pesos (just over $20 USD), my tattoo (done by an Argentino named Sebastian) is still my proudest purchase from Argentina.  It reads "Mostrame el camino," which means "show me the way."  My tattoo is a little reminder each day of the sometimes-confusing journey through life. 

Some people have asked about the title of my blog, "Finding My Way."  I've dubbed my blog as such for a couple reasons-- a) simply put, I love to travel; and b) like my tattoo, it serves as a reminder to me that every day in this crazy life is part of that terrific journey into the unknown.  Ah, the unknown.  Yeah, it can be exciting.  But it can be very scary too.  How are we ever supposed to know if we're headed in the right direction?  Sometimes we just need a little guidance.

I guess it's safe to say that I'm still trying to find my way in life.  Does anyone have their path figured out just yet?  If you do, congratulations.  I'm not there.  I'm actually not quite sure I'll ever be there.  Seems like I always get a little lost... between the things I want to do, and the things I should do, I'm just never sure what the next step is.

What I want to do:

• travel, travel, and travel some more
• dip my left foot in every ocean
• move to Chicago
• move to New York
• move to Ireland
• move to South America
• find perfect love
• eat nothing but French toast for a month
• start a photography business
• write for a living
• open a cafe/bakery
• meet someone else with my exact name
• take up miming
• grow a huge garden that contains only lavender
• learn the perfect universal joke
• etc...

What I should do:

• sell my car and save my money
• eat nothing but nutritious salads for a month
• stay in my current apartment until the lease is up
• go back to school for a more specific degree, so that I can get a decent job
• travel only when necessary
• talk less and listen more
• snap photos while it's still fun
• write while I still enjoy it
• distribute baked goods for free, not in exchange for money
• etc...

Ah, the eternal struggle.  There's so much I still want to do, and I feel like I'm running out of time and resources while trying to focus on the things I feel I should be doing. 

Lately I've been reading books from my childhood-- just finished my E.B. White collection, which included one of my favorites, Stuart Little.  You don't have to read the book (but if you've got 45 minutes, go ahead... it's an easy read).  It's about a little mouse named Stuart, who befriends a bird named Margalot.  Margalot eventually leaves Stuart (she has her reasons), so Stuart embarks on a journey to be reunited with her.  He hasn't actually found his friend by the end of the book, but White leaves the reader feeling hopeful that Stuart and Margalot will once again find one another. The last paragraph is especially hopeful:

"Stuart rose from the ditch, climbed into his car, and started up the road that led toward the north.  The sun was just coming up over the hills on his right.  As he peered ahead into the great land that stretched before him, the way seemed long.  But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction." -- Stuart Little, E.B. White

Yes, sometimes the way does seem long.  And sure, it's often scary to take a step into the unknown.  But look up-- the sky is always bright somewhere (though you might have to look beyond the clouds).  And if you're able to see the bright sky, even through the clouds, you're headed in the right direction.




(side note: The book Stuart Little also contains my favorite sentence from any literary work:  "One morning, when the wind was from the west, Stuart put on his sailor suit and his sailor hat, took his spyglass down from the shelf, and set out for a walk, full of the joy of life and the fear of dogs.")

Be My Bridge

I remember seeing this photo when I was little (possibly at my grandma's house, or perhaps at my elementary school-- if anyone can help me on that, let me know).  When I was young, I'd seen many pictures similar to this one, but for some reason, this one always caught my eye.  I still pause when I see it somewhere... funny how that happens. 

If this picture was indeed at my grandma's house, that would make sense.  She's always talking about guardian angels-- she's a firm believer in their existence.  She made a point to give each of her newly-licensed grandchildren a token to keep in his or car-- either a coin or a metal visor clip that says "Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly."  And perhaps some 16-year-olds would scoff at this and throw it in the glove box, or lose it (and I'd be likely to lose mine, especially considering the number of cars I've driven).  But I still have mine, and though it doesn't fit on my visor, I have my guardian angel clip in my console, and I make sure to take notice of it whenever I set sail in the Starship. 

Guardian angels are pretty amazing -- my favorite stories are those that involve a "close call, saved only by a guardian angel."  Seems like most of us have a story like that... where the odds were against us, and we shouldn't have made it out of whatever pickle we were in, but something stepped in-- maybe it pulled you off the tracks just in time, or the brakes mysteriously began to work as you were about to slide into the oncoming traffic of the expressway, even though your foot was no longer on the brake pedal, or your flashing red gas gauge somehow lasted another 30 miles until you  made it to the next exit.  Guardian angel stories, no matter how intense or dramatic, are good stories.  Maybe they don't involve driving or a life in danger (though many do)-- maybe your guardian angel is a friend, someone who's on your side when times get rough, maybe someone who spoke to you in just the right way, at just the right time.  Everyone needs someone on their side-- why not a guardian angel?

Do guardian angels really exist?  I guess we don't know for sure.  But I believe I've got one.  And I believe you've got one too, whether you agree or not. 

One of my favorite songs is "Bridge Over Troubled Water" by Simon & Garfunkel.  Though the original is amazing, this cover by Johnny Cash (in the video below) is phenomenal.-- recorded in 2002, not even a year before he passed away  There's something about Cash's raspy, aging, pained voice that will haunt you and send shivers down your spine.  Paired with the wistful harmony of Fiona Apple, this song is sure to stick with you.  And by the way, I'll jump at any chance to share some tunes from the Man in Black.



Mr. Simon and Mr. Garfunkel penned some brilliant lyrics in a vast sea of songs, but this is by far one of their most popular songs, and for good reason.  Everyone wants a friend like the "bridge" they refer to, and everyone deserves to have a friend like that.  I'm blessed in that I have many "bridges."  To all my guardian angels out there-- to all of you who have been a bridge for me when I've encountered those troubled waters (even if you didn't know it), thank you.

Good Karma

My cousin was in a bind last week.  She was taking her family up north for the holiday weekend, and she was desperately looking for someone to watch her dog.  Given my affinity for the canine species, I was only too happy to volunteer to spend the weekend with this dog (whom I had never met, but I figured she was harmless). 

Karma

She was indeed harmless.  I spent the weekend there, and in doing so was able to spend a good deal of time with an affectionate yelllow lab named Karma.  Always happy, always wagging her tail, always chewing everything that would stand still, and ALWAYS shedding, Karma instantly reminded me of my late companion Harper (I'm sure you remember her from some previous blogs-- here, here, and here).  I felt an instant connection to this dog, and regardless of my what I was doing to celebrate the holiday weekend, I was always looking forward to getting back to my cousin's house to see Karma.  I'd almost forgotten how wonderful it feels to give all your affection to a dog.  Not only does a dog return the affection, but she will give it back to you ten times over. 

Dogs only want one thing: love.  And Karma was no exception.  It matters not how long you've been gone that day, or whether her dinner was the same food you've given her every day for the last 900 days.  Dogs like Karma adore you because they depend on you.  If you show them one ounce of love/attention, you will likely be their best friend in a nanosecond.  What could be better than a creature who shows unconditional love?  It's a rare thing, that unconditional love.  Humans are certainly capable of magnificent love, but it's not always unconditional because of our human nature.  If you're looking for it, find a dog.  And there you'll find your true and unconditional love.

Not a day goes by where I don't think of Harper and wonder whether things could've turned out differently if I'd done this or if I'd done that.  Although I know it does absolutely no good to obsess over the past, pesky little thoughts still creep up and I constantly regret making the decision to send my little Harper to sleep.  It was a very difficult decision to make -- I still see it as snatching the life away from a creature that loved me infinitely and depended solely on me for everything.

When I accepted the job of dogsitting, I didn't realize that this weekend would mark one year exactly since I lost Harper.  It seemed only right, then, that I should be spending some QT with a dog who reminded me so much of Harper.  Karma... what a fitting name.  Good Karma. 

Thank you, Karma, for being so kind to me :)