We were at Costco today when The Lime had to use the bathroom. On our way out, we passed the break room for the employees and I caught a glimpse inside before the door shut. Every single person had their nose in their phone.
It's not uncommon to see people on their phones at church, especially since most people have their scriptures/hymns/lessons on their devices. But I'm a bit confused as to when Facebook became part of the church's curriculum.
As a protective mother, I'm appalled as to how many people drive with their eyes pointed at their laps. We know what you're doing. And since your eyes are on your phone, they're not on the road. I am on the road, with my precious boys, and you're putting us at risk as well as yourself. That angers me.
Please, put your phones down!
Who am I to talk about this topic and suggest to people what they do? I am pleased to say I don't have a phone that grasps me by my clothing and refuses to let go. I do have an iPad but I rarely take it out in public (only long car trips for The Lime and to Target for my coupons).
I hate (I know, strong word, but it's how I feel about this topic) that everyone always has their phone with them. Life will go on if someone doesn't get a hold of you right.this.second. It's called a message.
I hate that I have to listen to strangers' phone calls and FaceTime conversations in the grocery store.
I hate that social media is more important than playing with your kids.
I hate that finding the right song or replying to a text message or e-mail is more important than being safe.
I hate that society has become so dependent on this stupid rectangle that the world seems to be ending if it's lost or cracked or a signal isn't strong enough. Heaven forbid we have conversations face to face, or we don't check our "friends'" status every two minutes (really, who has 2,500 friends?), or we open an actual book to read, or we (like mentioned above) have to call someone back.
Even though I only use my phone to contact people, some of my most freeing moments are when I forget my phone at home. No temptation to be distracted (like deleting old texts or photos to free up storage space), no way to get a hold of me in real time (great way to teach someone patience). Just the ability to live in the moment and be able to focus on whatever's at hand.
Don't let your device bind you. Put it down.
Showing posts with label Opinions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Opinions. Show all posts
Monday, June 8, 2015
Friday, July 25, 2014
More Power to Ya!
About a month ago, we were out and about as a family when we decided to swing by Men's Wearhouse. LaVor has been collecting gift cards for birthdays and Christmas, saving them for a new suit. While he was browsing the inventory, I needed to step outside to change and feed Doodlebug. My initial plan was to set up shop on the bench in the corner but it was already occupied. My next option was a table at Starbucks, right on the edge of the sidewalk where all the cars driving by could see me.
While changing a #2, I tried hiding anything that might make anyone gag, and I think I did a good job, with the help of The Lime.
Next up was feeding time. When it comes to nursing, I've come to the terms that if my baby is hungry, I'll feed him anywhere - with a cover, of course. I got some weird looks and stares from people passing by. Not sure if the nursing freaked them out or if they were trying to figure out what in the heck I was doing. One lady walked by and said, "More power to ya, nursing your baby in public!" It caught me completely off guard and I could only think of "thank you" to say.
Her comment stuck with me for weeks, but especially when we went to the pool across the street.
I've often said if something is made in your size, that doesn't necessarily mean you should wear it. And that applies to all types of women.
When we got to the pool, that thought played in my mind over and over again. It seemed as if everyone was wearing a bikini; a few skinny girls, some girls with stretch marks, some pregnant, some that maybe should have worn a one-piece, and one with a huge beer belly.
While I'm almost to my pre-pregnancy weight, and I can fit in my swimsuit (but dread wearing it in front of people), my body is certainly not the same as it was 10 years ago. And although people keep telling me I look like I was never even pregnant, I realized I have zero confidence. I would never starve myself (mostly because I love food too much) but I seem to have body image issues. I can always find something wrong and rarely something right with the way I look.
On the way home from the pool, I asked myself how all those ladies could go out in public, wearing what they were, and not be embarrassed. Then it hit me...they obviously don't care what critical people like me think! Who cares if they have cellulite (which everyone did...even the skinnies), or a muffin top, or saggy boobs?
To them I say, "More power to ya!"
While changing a #2, I tried hiding anything that might make anyone gag, and I think I did a good job, with the help of The Lime.
Next up was feeding time. When it comes to nursing, I've come to the terms that if my baby is hungry, I'll feed him anywhere - with a cover, of course. I got some weird looks and stares from people passing by. Not sure if the nursing freaked them out or if they were trying to figure out what in the heck I was doing. One lady walked by and said, "More power to ya, nursing your baby in public!" It caught me completely off guard and I could only think of "thank you" to say.
Her comment stuck with me for weeks, but especially when we went to the pool across the street.
I've often said if something is made in your size, that doesn't necessarily mean you should wear it. And that applies to all types of women.
When we got to the pool, that thought played in my mind over and over again. It seemed as if everyone was wearing a bikini; a few skinny girls, some girls with stretch marks, some pregnant, some that maybe should have worn a one-piece, and one with a huge beer belly.
While I'm almost to my pre-pregnancy weight, and I can fit in my swimsuit (but dread wearing it in front of people), my body is certainly not the same as it was 10 years ago. And although people keep telling me I look like I was never even pregnant, I realized I have zero confidence. I would never starve myself (mostly because I love food too much) but I seem to have body image issues. I can always find something wrong and rarely something right with the way I look.
On the way home from the pool, I asked myself how all those ladies could go out in public, wearing what they were, and not be embarrassed. Then it hit me...they obviously don't care what critical people like me think! Who cares if they have cellulite (which everyone did...even the skinnies), or a muffin top, or saggy boobs?
To them I say, "More power to ya!"
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Compare and Compete
When I was in the 8th grade, I tried out for the volleyball team and surprisingly made it. I think the fact that my mom worked at the same school might have played a part in my acceptance. Especially because I had zero skills.
Anyway, apparently I wasn't the only one with zero skills. We didn't win a single game and it infuriated some of the girls. They'd come into the locker room after the game swearing, and then blame it on so and so. Maybe a bit of competitiveness could have helped me out but I had more of an attitude like, "Eh...you win some, you lose some. Or in our case, we just lose."
Little has changed as I've grown up. I had the same attitude when I was on the gymnastics team in high school, when I play Scrabble with my mom or LaVor, or actually when I play anything against LaVor. In fact, we went bowling for The Lime's birthday and I won the first round. That never happens!
I'm okay that I lose 99.9% of the time. I don't need to be the "best" or have the "best" to feel validated.
I was at a friend's house last week and admired her poster she and her family made for Martin Luther King, Jr. day. They made a list of their dreams and one in particular caught my eye. And while I can't remember it word for word, it was along the lines of valuing the non-material things more than say the house, car, or toys.
I appreciated this dream and wish that more people had the same mentality.
"You can't take it with you when you're gone" is something that makes its way through my mind often. The house will still be here, someone else will be driving our cars and wearing our clothes, life in the city we lived in will still go on, the money will be in the bank account. It's the feelings I felt raising The Lime in our home that I'll take with me, the memories of the trips we took in our car that I'll always have, the thoughts of, "I wore this when we _________" that will carry on. The size of the house won't matter, the price of the car won't matter, the brand of the clothes won't matter.
It's still early to tell but I don't think The Lime inherited my non-competitive nature. We're doing our best to teach him good sportsmanship and to have a good attitude. But I hope I can also teach him to appreciate all he has, no matter if it's considered the "best" or not. I want him to acknowledge his blessings even when they're entangled in a trial. I don't want him to compare himself to others.
I want him to see the good in all things. Because there is good in all things, even if it's not the "best".
Anyway, apparently I wasn't the only one with zero skills. We didn't win a single game and it infuriated some of the girls. They'd come into the locker room after the game swearing, and then blame it on so and so. Maybe a bit of competitiveness could have helped me out but I had more of an attitude like, "Eh...you win some, you lose some. Or in our case, we just lose."
Little has changed as I've grown up. I had the same attitude when I was on the gymnastics team in high school, when I play Scrabble with my mom or LaVor, or actually when I play anything against LaVor. In fact, we went bowling for The Lime's birthday and I won the first round. That never happens!
I'm okay that I lose 99.9% of the time. I don't need to be the "best" or have the "best" to feel validated.
I was at a friend's house last week and admired her poster she and her family made for Martin Luther King, Jr. day. They made a list of their dreams and one in particular caught my eye. And while I can't remember it word for word, it was along the lines of valuing the non-material things more than say the house, car, or toys.
I appreciated this dream and wish that more people had the same mentality.
"You can't take it with you when you're gone" is something that makes its way through my mind often. The house will still be here, someone else will be driving our cars and wearing our clothes, life in the city we lived in will still go on, the money will be in the bank account. It's the feelings I felt raising The Lime in our home that I'll take with me, the memories of the trips we took in our car that I'll always have, the thoughts of, "I wore this when we _________" that will carry on. The size of the house won't matter, the price of the car won't matter, the brand of the clothes won't matter.
It's still early to tell but I don't think The Lime inherited my non-competitive nature. We're doing our best to teach him good sportsmanship and to have a good attitude. But I hope I can also teach him to appreciate all he has, no matter if it's considered the "best" or not. I want him to acknowledge his blessings even when they're entangled in a trial. I don't want him to compare himself to others.
I want him to see the good in all things. Because there is good in all things, even if it's not the "best".
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Entitled
My visiting teachers came over yesterday and during our visit, we were discussing Christmas and our methods to gift giving. One of the ladies mentioned how she knew some families where their kids got anything and everything they asked for. She had asked her teen daughter if she ever felt like she was missing out and wished for a Christmas like those kids. Her daughter said no. Then the mom asked her why. "Because it wouldn't feel right. I would never learn responsibility or how to appreciate things if I was always given everything I wanted." "Yes!!" the mom thought, "I am doing something right!"
While driving to the Bay Area last week, LaVor and I were discussing the situation with our country and healthcare. I shared with him a story I read of a person who had been paying quite a bit for a medication before signing up for Obamacare. They just recently re-filled their prescription and didn't have to pay a dime.
The whole thing confuses me.
LaVor has a job that offers health insurance that covers our whole family. But we pay for it. In fact, the cost is going up this next year.
We not only pay our premiums but we have a co-pay for each visit as well as a percentage we pay after the insurance pays. I would be a happy lady if our prescriptions were free but they aren't. When I picked up The Lime's Epi-pens from the pharmacy, both the pharmacist and I gasped for air as she rang up my total.
These are my concerns:
If people are receiving free healthcare, while they are receiving unemployment, what incentive is there to find a job? Is it really my husband's responsibility to not only pay for our livelihood, but contribute to others?
It may seem like an extremely selfish attitude that I have, and I'll be the first to admit that it is. Our family is my top priority, not yours, not the neighbors, or the homeless couple asking for money on the corner. LaVor works hard for us so that we can go to the doctor when we need to and pay for those stinkin' bills. He doesn't work hard so other people can scoot by without having to lift a finger.
I understand that there are people who are unable to work and should be receiving financial assistance. My beef is not with them. I'm weary of the people who are fully capable of contributing to our society but choose not to, because they're taken care of no matter what.
If a 16 year old girl understands how the world should work, everyone else can too.
While driving to the Bay Area last week, LaVor and I were discussing the situation with our country and healthcare. I shared with him a story I read of a person who had been paying quite a bit for a medication before signing up for Obamacare. They just recently re-filled their prescription and didn't have to pay a dime.
The whole thing confuses me.
LaVor has a job that offers health insurance that covers our whole family. But we pay for it. In fact, the cost is going up this next year.
We not only pay our premiums but we have a co-pay for each visit as well as a percentage we pay after the insurance pays. I would be a happy lady if our prescriptions were free but they aren't. When I picked up The Lime's Epi-pens from the pharmacy, both the pharmacist and I gasped for air as she rang up my total.
These are my concerns:
If people are receiving free healthcare, while they are receiving unemployment, what incentive is there to find a job? Is it really my husband's responsibility to not only pay for our livelihood, but contribute to others?
It may seem like an extremely selfish attitude that I have, and I'll be the first to admit that it is. Our family is my top priority, not yours, not the neighbors, or the homeless couple asking for money on the corner. LaVor works hard for us so that we can go to the doctor when we need to and pay for those stinkin' bills. He doesn't work hard so other people can scoot by without having to lift a finger.
I understand that there are people who are unable to work and should be receiving financial assistance. My beef is not with them. I'm weary of the people who are fully capable of contributing to our society but choose not to, because they're taken care of no matter what.
If a 16 year old girl understands how the world should work, everyone else can too.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
I Don't Have a Title
Within hours of General Conference ending earlier this month, there were news articles online regarding Elder Oaks and his feelings about marriage, as well as articles about a group of women trying to get into the Priesthood session. In previous years, there were petitions going around about women saying prayers during General Conference. And I believe it was last year that there was a protest of sorts about women wearing skirts and dresses to church.
While everyone is obviously entitled to their own opinions, I don't quite understand the oppression that seems to fuel these protests.
Maybe I don't care about such things, or I'm oblivious to them (like the women praying in Conference...never kept track that only men did it), or I have more important things to worry about. Or, I don't feel like in order to feel loved, appreciated, and equal that I need to hold the priesthood or should wear pants to church.
Never once have I felt like men were more superior at church, more appreciated or valued. Actually, I lie. I did always wish I could go to Scout Camp and do the fun activities they partook in rather than making buttons in crafts at Girls Camp. But that's it.
In fact, I've never had a desire to have the responsibility of the priesthood put on my shoulders. Every time a young man messes up the Sacrament prayer, I think, "So glad I never have to do that." It always makes me sad when a Bishop is called, or Stake President, and the person conducting says, "Kiss your wife goodbye...you won't be sitting next to her for a while." A while translates to 10 years.
The responsibility I am thankful for is that of being a woman and a mother. There are things that I can do that LaVor can't and vice versa, but I don't think either one of us has ever been envious of the other.
This month's visiting teaching message confirmed to me that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me, as a woman, and they want me to reach my potential in being a woman.
The following is taken from the message, "We have been created in God’s image, and we have divine potential. The Prophet Joseph Smith admonished the sisters in Relief Society to 'live up to [their] privilege.'. With that encouragement as a foundation, sisters in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have been taught to live up to their divine potential by fulfilling God’s purposes for them. 'As they come to understand who they really are—God’s daughters, with an innate capacity to love and nurture—they reach their potential as holy women.'"
"'You are now placed in a situation where you can act according to those sympathies which God has planted in your bosoms,' said the Prophet Joseph Smith. 'If you live up to these principles how great and glorious!—if you live up to your privilege, the angels cannot be restrained from being your associates.'"
When I went to visit my sister in the hospital, hours after she gave birth, I was greeted by a gorgeous sunset. I couldn't help but think, "Dang! Heavenly Father and Jesus love us!"
President Uchtdorf said, “We are the reason He created the universe! …
“This is a paradox of man: compared to God, man is nothing; yet we are everything to God.”
Then I went into her hospital room and witnessed the tiny baby that had just been sent down from heaven. Talk about privileges. Being able to create life and bring an innocent being into the world has got to be our #1 privilege. Where are the men protesting this?
The content of the message is what is important to me. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us so much that they created this world for us to enjoy and appreciate, to come to and be tested, to learn and to grow. We were created in Heavenly Father's image and we are of infinite worth. I don't need to hear a woman say a prayer in General Conference or be granted submission to the Priesthood session to feel valued.
Striving to do good and living up to my potential is my goal, so I can be in the midst of those angels.
While everyone is obviously entitled to their own opinions, I don't quite understand the oppression that seems to fuel these protests.
Maybe I don't care about such things, or I'm oblivious to them (like the women praying in Conference...never kept track that only men did it), or I have more important things to worry about. Or, I don't feel like in order to feel loved, appreciated, and equal that I need to hold the priesthood or should wear pants to church.
Never once have I felt like men were more superior at church, more appreciated or valued. Actually, I lie. I did always wish I could go to Scout Camp and do the fun activities they partook in rather than making buttons in crafts at Girls Camp. But that's it.
In fact, I've never had a desire to have the responsibility of the priesthood put on my shoulders. Every time a young man messes up the Sacrament prayer, I think, "So glad I never have to do that." It always makes me sad when a Bishop is called, or Stake President, and the person conducting says, "Kiss your wife goodbye...you won't be sitting next to her for a while." A while translates to 10 years.
The responsibility I am thankful for is that of being a woman and a mother. There are things that I can do that LaVor can't and vice versa, but I don't think either one of us has ever been envious of the other.
This month's visiting teaching message confirmed to me that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me, as a woman, and they want me to reach my potential in being a woman.
The following is taken from the message, "We have been created in God’s image, and we have divine potential. The Prophet Joseph Smith admonished the sisters in Relief Society to 'live up to [their] privilege.'. With that encouragement as a foundation, sisters in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have been taught to live up to their divine potential by fulfilling God’s purposes for them. 'As they come to understand who they really are—God’s daughters, with an innate capacity to love and nurture—they reach their potential as holy women.'"
"'You are now placed in a situation where you can act according to those sympathies which God has planted in your bosoms,' said the Prophet Joseph Smith. 'If you live up to these principles how great and glorious!—if you live up to your privilege, the angels cannot be restrained from being your associates.'"
When I went to visit my sister in the hospital, hours after she gave birth, I was greeted by a gorgeous sunset. I couldn't help but think, "Dang! Heavenly Father and Jesus love us!"
President Uchtdorf said, “We are the reason He created the universe! …
“This is a paradox of man: compared to God, man is nothing; yet we are everything to God.”
Then I went into her hospital room and witnessed the tiny baby that had just been sent down from heaven. Talk about privileges. Being able to create life and bring an innocent being into the world has got to be our #1 privilege. Where are the men protesting this?
The content of the message is what is important to me. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us so much that they created this world for us to enjoy and appreciate, to come to and be tested, to learn and to grow. We were created in Heavenly Father's image and we are of infinite worth. I don't need to hear a woman say a prayer in General Conference or be granted submission to the Priesthood session to feel valued.
Striving to do good and living up to my potential is my goal, so I can be in the midst of those angels.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Free Speech
My sister seemed to have a new story each week about someone who decided to throw out any filter they might have possessed and freely speak their mind regarding her having a baby. Hardly any of the comments were uplifting and positive but rude and uncalled for. She got to the point where she would respond with a witty comment and catch them completely off guard.
I think she rubbed off on me.
The Lime and I were at the library today, making our way to the entrance. They have one of those handicap buttons you can press for the doors to open automatically, which The Lime likes to take advantage of. He was trying to press the button with his foot but wasn't having any luck, since people kept leaving the library and opening the doors. I told him he could press the button on the way out and tried to get him to follow me. That's when an older man walked up, put his book in the return box and said, "Well maybe if you hadn't been kicking the button, it would have opened." That's when I took The Lime's hand and said to him, "I don't know why people think they can say whatever they want!" The guy totally heard me and turned back around and said something. Unfortunately, I didn't hear him.
I was originally thinking that it has to do with age; apparently the older you get, the more diarrhea exits your mouth. But in my sister's case, she had a wide spectrum of people throwing comments her direction so my theory is out the door.
What makes people think they can comment about other peoples' situation? Is it the free speech thing? I can say whatever I want, no matter how it might make someone feel. And that's true, people can say what they want. Maybe I feel like the person is stepping into my business, where they don't belong. Maybe it's a combination of them being rude and annoying.
I'm particular about who enters my bubble, whether it be physically or with words. I think things in my head all the time but would never dare say it outloud, mostly because of the fear of getting shot or beat up but also because I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings!
But if someone is thick skinned enough to say it to me, I'm hoping they're thick skinned enough to have it returned.
Unless they're pregnant. Then just don't say anything.
I think she rubbed off on me.
The Lime and I were at the library today, making our way to the entrance. They have one of those handicap buttons you can press for the doors to open automatically, which The Lime likes to take advantage of. He was trying to press the button with his foot but wasn't having any luck, since people kept leaving the library and opening the doors. I told him he could press the button on the way out and tried to get him to follow me. That's when an older man walked up, put his book in the return box and said, "Well maybe if you hadn't been kicking the button, it would have opened." That's when I took The Lime's hand and said to him, "I don't know why people think they can say whatever they want!" The guy totally heard me and turned back around and said something. Unfortunately, I didn't hear him.
I was originally thinking that it has to do with age; apparently the older you get, the more diarrhea exits your mouth. But in my sister's case, she had a wide spectrum of people throwing comments her direction so my theory is out the door.
What makes people think they can comment about other peoples' situation? Is it the free speech thing? I can say whatever I want, no matter how it might make someone feel. And that's true, people can say what they want. Maybe I feel like the person is stepping into my business, where they don't belong. Maybe it's a combination of them being rude and annoying.
I'm particular about who enters my bubble, whether it be physically or with words. I think things in my head all the time but would never dare say it outloud, mostly because of the fear of getting shot or beat up but also because I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings!
But if someone is thick skinned enough to say it to me, I'm hoping they're thick skinned enough to have it returned.
Unless they're pregnant. Then just don't say anything.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
What's Cooler Than Bein' Cool
With all this hoopla circulating regarding the CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch stating he doesn't want large people wearing his clothes, but wants those that do wear them to feel cool, it got me thinking.
My brother wore a lot of A&F prior to him leaving on his mission. Since I could never afford their clothes, I would ask to borrow his t-shirts. Let me give you a visual, as I don't have any photos to provide (thank goodness!). A 5'3 girl, weighing about 100lbs, with braces, no make-up, wearing a men's A&F shirt, most likely an XL. That, my friends, is a girl trying to be cool. Does it sound cool? No. Although I must admit, I looked darn cute in his baseball hats.
The teenager in me assumed that putting on a brand would up my cool factor when in reality, it brought it way down. I quickly learned that I wasn't cool and would never be cool. To save me from future humiliation, I needed to avoid anything that I thought was cool.
Like hashtags. Are they cool? I really don't know but everyone and their mother and dog seems to use them like they are.
I think they started with Twitter, a social network that I only signed up for to ask a chef where he buys his aprons. Six months later and I'm still trying to figure out how to delete my account. I think people also use hashtags with Instagram. Clearly I am not cool enough to know this stuff. Therefore, I have not and will not tag anything. (See! Learned my lesson!)
And thank goodness I got over my brand obsession. I can't even walk by Abercrombie & Fitch without gagging from the smell, let alone stepping foot in the store. Bless those souls that feel the need to be cool while suffering from extreme headaches.
My brother wore a lot of A&F prior to him leaving on his mission. Since I could never afford their clothes, I would ask to borrow his t-shirts. Let me give you a visual, as I don't have any photos to provide (thank goodness!). A 5'3 girl, weighing about 100lbs, with braces, no make-up, wearing a men's A&F shirt, most likely an XL. That, my friends, is a girl trying to be cool. Does it sound cool? No. Although I must admit, I looked darn cute in his baseball hats.
The teenager in me assumed that putting on a brand would up my cool factor when in reality, it brought it way down. I quickly learned that I wasn't cool and would never be cool. To save me from future humiliation, I needed to avoid anything that I thought was cool.
Like hashtags. Are they cool? I really don't know but everyone and their mother and dog seems to use them like they are.
I think they started with Twitter, a social network that I only signed up for to ask a chef where he buys his aprons. Six months later and I'm still trying to figure out how to delete my account. I think people also use hashtags with Instagram. Clearly I am not cool enough to know this stuff. Therefore, I have not and will not tag anything. (See! Learned my lesson!)
And thank goodness I got over my brand obsession. I can't even walk by Abercrombie & Fitch without gagging from the smell, let alone stepping foot in the store. Bless those souls that feel the need to be cool while suffering from extreme headaches.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Caught on Camera
I'm waiting for my birthday to (hopefully) get an iTunes gift card, so I can download some songs. Until then, I just listen to them on YouTube for free.
While listening to songs last night, I looked at the suggested videos on the right hand side of the screen and saw one about the Boxing Day Tsunami in 2004. I didn't know very much about the disaster and my curiosity got the best of me. The video was only ten minutes and I had ten minutes to spare so I put my earbuds in and clicked play.
I finished the video and realized there were six more ten minute videos to watch. I couldn't stop at the first one so I continued on.
The documentary, Tsunami: Caught on Camera, is a compilation of personal videos that people took before, during, and after the tsunami hit. Most of the people involved were tourists, visiting different countries for Christmas. There were a couple families, newlyweds, bachelors, and locals that contributed.
I did fine through the first couple of clips but then things changed, the earthquake hit, and the tsunami was coming.
(If you want to watch it, scroll down and bypass my spoilers)
The scene that started it all for me was a German family standing on the beach, watching the tide suddenly go out, and wondering what was going on. They could see the waves crashing in the distance but had no clue how large they were until they saw a military ship get sucked into the ocean. At that point, the husband, who was filming, yelled to his wife to run. They screamed back and forth and then the wife said, "I can't carry both children by myself!" The father took their oldest daughter, who through her tears started saying, "I want to go home!" That's when I lost it.
The thought of the fears that these people faced, initially not knowing what was happening, then realizing they were in danger and within seconds, having to run for their lives. Then the fear of not knowing if you'd come out alive, if your children would be safe, what the aftermath would be like. I just couldn't imagine.
At this point, LaVor went to bed and I told him I'd be there in a couple of minutes.
One of the next scenes was an interview with a mother and father, who were vacationing in Sri Lanka. They took their 5 year old daughter, Isabella, with them as they thought she'd be old enough for the plane ride and to really enjoy the vacation. They had a leisurely morning and were in their room when the tsunami hit. The mother described the scene of them running for safety, with her daughter in her arms, gripping her neck tightly. She talked about the difficulty breathing and the fear of drowning. Then a large wave hit and took Isabella out of her mother's arms and swept her away.
I had to stop watching there. I was either going to have horrible nightmares or cry myself to sleep. And I did the later.
I got into bed and LaVor asked if I had been crying. I told him I was and he asked why. I described the clips of the German family and when I mentioned Isabella, I burst into tears. I told him, "I just couldn't imagine".
When the shooting in Connecticut took place, I was of course sad but I never cried. Which is so unusual for me because I clearly don't have a problem expressing my emotions. I actually wondered why I wasn't feeling more upset about the situation. I saw so many other people express such grief that I began to think I was a cold-hearted human being.
I don't know what's different about the tsunami but I've been crying all day and can't stop thinking about the thousands of people who tragically lost their lives. Maybe it's the raw footage and seeing the dead bodies and hearing the stories first hand. I don't know but it has certainly affected me.
I want to hug The Lime a little longer, kiss LaVor every chance I get, and continuously give thanks to my Heavenly Father for all that he's blessed me with.
Because I really just can't imagine.
While listening to songs last night, I looked at the suggested videos on the right hand side of the screen and saw one about the Boxing Day Tsunami in 2004. I didn't know very much about the disaster and my curiosity got the best of me. The video was only ten minutes and I had ten minutes to spare so I put my earbuds in and clicked play.
I finished the video and realized there were six more ten minute videos to watch. I couldn't stop at the first one so I continued on.
The documentary, Tsunami: Caught on Camera, is a compilation of personal videos that people took before, during, and after the tsunami hit. Most of the people involved were tourists, visiting different countries for Christmas. There were a couple families, newlyweds, bachelors, and locals that contributed.
I did fine through the first couple of clips but then things changed, the earthquake hit, and the tsunami was coming.
(If you want to watch it, scroll down and bypass my spoilers)
The scene that started it all for me was a German family standing on the beach, watching the tide suddenly go out, and wondering what was going on. They could see the waves crashing in the distance but had no clue how large they were until they saw a military ship get sucked into the ocean. At that point, the husband, who was filming, yelled to his wife to run. They screamed back and forth and then the wife said, "I can't carry both children by myself!" The father took their oldest daughter, who through her tears started saying, "I want to go home!" That's when I lost it.
The thought of the fears that these people faced, initially not knowing what was happening, then realizing they were in danger and within seconds, having to run for their lives. Then the fear of not knowing if you'd come out alive, if your children would be safe, what the aftermath would be like. I just couldn't imagine.
At this point, LaVor went to bed and I told him I'd be there in a couple of minutes.
One of the next scenes was an interview with a mother and father, who were vacationing in Sri Lanka. They took their 5 year old daughter, Isabella, with them as they thought she'd be old enough for the plane ride and to really enjoy the vacation. They had a leisurely morning and were in their room when the tsunami hit. The mother described the scene of them running for safety, with her daughter in her arms, gripping her neck tightly. She talked about the difficulty breathing and the fear of drowning. Then a large wave hit and took Isabella out of her mother's arms and swept her away.
I had to stop watching there. I was either going to have horrible nightmares or cry myself to sleep. And I did the later.
I got into bed and LaVor asked if I had been crying. I told him I was and he asked why. I described the clips of the German family and when I mentioned Isabella, I burst into tears. I told him, "I just couldn't imagine".
When the shooting in Connecticut took place, I was of course sad but I never cried. Which is so unusual for me because I clearly don't have a problem expressing my emotions. I actually wondered why I wasn't feeling more upset about the situation. I saw so many other people express such grief that I began to think I was a cold-hearted human being.
I don't know what's different about the tsunami but I've been crying all day and can't stop thinking about the thousands of people who tragically lost their lives. Maybe it's the raw footage and seeing the dead bodies and hearing the stories first hand. I don't know but it has certainly affected me.
I want to hug The Lime a little longer, kiss LaVor every chance I get, and continuously give thanks to my Heavenly Father for all that he's blessed me with.
Because I really just can't imagine.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
How Rude!
 |
| From Urban Outfitters |
I never really thought about it before, but I suppose my job is customer service related. I'm the first thing a patient sees when they walk in and their last impression of the office as they leave. Despite it being EXTREMELY hard at times, I try to represent the office well and make every effort to keep my cool in heated situations.
My family celebrated my Mom's birthday last night and on the way to dinner, I made a slight detour to grab some balloons. Since I was a last minute balloon buyer, the store's staff rang up my merchandise but helped the others in line before blowing up the balloons (which I was fine with).
The second person in line was a crotchety old woman, on the hunt for purple beads. In her loud, demeaning voice, she explained to the employee that she had called two hours before, to inquire if the store had purple beads in containers. She said the man on the other end confirmed that they did. Well, according to the customer, not only did they not have purple beads in containers, they didn't have purple beads at all!
Then the stones started flying.
"If you don't have something, then you shouldn't tell people that you do!"
"Get off that microphone thing and find someone who can help me!"
"Why don't you help me find them! Isn't that what you should be doing anyway? It's called good customer service!"
"Maybe your staff needs to communicate better!"
"You're the one I spoke to on the phone!" "No he's not. He just started work an hour ago."
At one point, the crazed woman looked at me with a smirk on her face, hoping to get a "You tell 'em!" look in return but all she got were some rolled eyes.
As I stood to the side, listening to all of this, I could not believe how rude some people can be. And I was so impressed by the employee that kept her cool, despite being yelled at for something she had nothing to do with.
The customer and a new employee began looking around the store for the infamous purple beads. If the customer hadn't been so rude, I would have chimed in and told her they were on the display right behind her, during her rampage.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Baby, baby, baby, baby
For more than half my life, I've been known to my family as Popie.
It started out with my sister calling me Poopoo (flattering, isn't it?) then it got cut to Popo, which eventually turned into Popie. Even the neighbor kids call me Popie.
LaVor isn't so sure about the nickname thing. He calls me Kimberly and every now and then Sweetheart. He's now known as Daddy most of the time, occasionally Sweetheart and sometimes LaVor. If he really wants to rile me up, though, he calls me Baby.
Just writing it makes my skin crawl.
I HATE when "baby" is used as a term of endearment. It just sounds trashy and sleazy and I don't know why. I'll take Snookums or Sweet Cheeks over Baby any day.
I will make one exception to the word. One of my favorite movies is "Walk the Line" and one of my favorite lines can be seen at 1:19 in the following clip.
That's the only time "Baby" will fly.
It started out with my sister calling me Poopoo (flattering, isn't it?) then it got cut to Popo, which eventually turned into Popie. Even the neighbor kids call me Popie.
LaVor isn't so sure about the nickname thing. He calls me Kimberly and every now and then Sweetheart. He's now known as Daddy most of the time, occasionally Sweetheart and sometimes LaVor. If he really wants to rile me up, though, he calls me Baby.
Just writing it makes my skin crawl.
I HATE when "baby" is used as a term of endearment. It just sounds trashy and sleazy and I don't know why. I'll take Snookums or Sweet Cheeks over Baby any day.
I will make one exception to the word. One of my favorite movies is "Walk the Line" and one of my favorite lines can be seen at 1:19 in the following clip.
That's the only time "Baby" will fly.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Baring It All
It was two weeks ago, at Storytime, when I was sitting in my seat in the back row, while The Lime sat on the carpet with the other kids. A mother abruptly got up from her seat in the front, with her daughter in her arms, and started walking away from the group. Vomit? Poopy diaper? Tantrum? I wasn't sure what was going on. She plopped down in the aisle seat of the row I was in and without hesitation, whipped out her boob and the kid latched on.
"Whoa!" was my initial reaction. "Am I really seeing this?!"
I don't know why it caught my attention and wouldn't let it go (it's like a bad accident...you just have to look). I nursed The Lime from day one until he weaned himself at 15 months. I pumped like a cow, and was very open about it. At first, I was shy about nursing and would prefer to do it in a room with just him and I. But after I got used to it, I was more than comfortable to do it in public...just with a cover on.
And I think that's what got me; she didn't use a cover.
I know what's going on under the covers yet I prefer to not see the actual boob or the child suckling.
It's natural, I know *rolls eyes* but so is sex and you (hopefully) don't see people doing that in public, with or without covers.
The most awkward part of the whole thing was when we started singing, "We are the Dinosaurs" and marched around the room, having to walk right by the lady. My heart went out to the dads that attend, who may or may not have minded.
"Whoa!" was my initial reaction. "Am I really seeing this?!"
I don't know why it caught my attention and wouldn't let it go (it's like a bad accident...you just have to look). I nursed The Lime from day one until he weaned himself at 15 months. I pumped like a cow, and was very open about it. At first, I was shy about nursing and would prefer to do it in a room with just him and I. But after I got used to it, I was more than comfortable to do it in public...just with a cover on.
 |
| Because who doesn't have a picture of themselves nursing their children? |
And I think that's what got me; she didn't use a cover.
I know what's going on under the covers yet I prefer to not see the actual boob or the child suckling.
It's natural, I know *rolls eyes* but so is sex and you (hopefully) don't see people doing that in public, with or without covers.
The most awkward part of the whole thing was when we started singing, "We are the Dinosaurs" and marched around the room, having to walk right by the lady. My heart went out to the dads that attend, who may or may not have minded.
 |
| Not just 1 cover...I have 2! |
Monday, October 22, 2012
A Whole Lot of Things
I wouldn't consider myself a goody goody but I like to follow the rules. While in school, I prided myself on never getting my name on the board (up until 5th grade...thanks, Mr. Stahr!), never having detention, not even getting yelled at on the playground for running. Then I went into the 6th grade and had the class from you know where. It actually wasn't the whole class, just three boys that wreaked havoc every.single.day! My poor teacher, Ms. Morgan, had reached her limit one day and broke down. She faced the board, with her head in her hands, as she took a moment to herself. We all sat there, in silence, wondering what in the heck was going on. She turned back around, her eyes glistening with tears and her face bright red, and announced that we would all have lunch detention the following day. "What?!" ran through my head. "Was I really facing the consequences for someone else's actions?!"
While browsing Facebook a few weeks ago, I came across a comment about Mitt Romney and his views on women's rights. I wasn't too sure about his views so I began reading. Apparently he would like to eliminate funding to Planned Parenthood. That turned my search into Planned Parenthood. My only knowledge of Planned Parenthood was that Dr. Drew would suggest callers visit their clinics, after calling into Loveline. According to their 2008-2009 annual report, Planned Parenthood received about a third of its funding from government grants and contracts.
Per their website, "Planned Parenthood offers services at low or no cost. Fees are determined on a sliding scale, based on your income and family size. All services are provided at the lowest cost possible, and you can call us anytime to discuss payment options."
My understanding is that they can offer procedures at little or no cost to the patient because of the funding they receive, whether government or private.
And that's where I have an issue.
I am all for the 1.5 million women that were screened in 2010 for cancer. I am not for the remaining 9.4 million patients that received treatment for STD testing, birth control, abortions, and pregnancy tests. I should note, PP supposedly does not use the government funds for abortions.
Waiting to have sex until I was married was a personal choice and one that I'm glad I made. It is a very intimate, emotional act that comes with a huge responsibility. It is a choice, not a privilege, that also comes with consequences. I do not believe that I should have to pay the consequences, literally and figuratively, for someone else's actions.
My husband works hard to provide for our needs. I wish I could stay home every day with The Lime but bills have to be paid. In order to prevent more Limes from joining our family right now, I pay for a little pill. That pill was costing me $90 per month, while I was nursing. Why is it that we are a hard working family that is willing to take responsibility for our actions and are paying up the wazoo for health insurance, yet we are still paying an outrageous amount, out of pocket, for benefits? The only conclusion that I can come to is someone has to pay for the free or discounted services offered at facilities like Planned Parenthood and it isn't the patient.
So if Mitt Romney eliminating funds for Planned Parenthood is considered "against women's rights", I must be, too.
While browsing Facebook a few weeks ago, I came across a comment about Mitt Romney and his views on women's rights. I wasn't too sure about his views so I began reading. Apparently he would like to eliminate funding to Planned Parenthood. That turned my search into Planned Parenthood. My only knowledge of Planned Parenthood was that Dr. Drew would suggest callers visit their clinics, after calling into Loveline. According to their 2008-2009 annual report, Planned Parenthood received about a third of its funding from government grants and contracts.
Per their website, "Planned Parenthood offers services at low or no cost. Fees are determined on a sliding scale, based on your income and family size. All services are provided at the lowest cost possible, and you can call us anytime to discuss payment options."
My understanding is that they can offer procedures at little or no cost to the patient because of the funding they receive, whether government or private.
And that's where I have an issue.
I am all for the 1.5 million women that were screened in 2010 for cancer. I am not for the remaining 9.4 million patients that received treatment for STD testing, birth control, abortions, and pregnancy tests. I should note, PP supposedly does not use the government funds for abortions.
Waiting to have sex until I was married was a personal choice and one that I'm glad I made. It is a very intimate, emotional act that comes with a huge responsibility. It is a choice, not a privilege, that also comes with consequences. I do not believe that I should have to pay the consequences, literally and figuratively, for someone else's actions.
My husband works hard to provide for our needs. I wish I could stay home every day with The Lime but bills have to be paid. In order to prevent more Limes from joining our family right now, I pay for a little pill. That pill was costing me $90 per month, while I was nursing. Why is it that we are a hard working family that is willing to take responsibility for our actions and are paying up the wazoo for health insurance, yet we are still paying an outrageous amount, out of pocket, for benefits? The only conclusion that I can come to is someone has to pay for the free or discounted services offered at facilities like Planned Parenthood and it isn't the patient.
So if Mitt Romney eliminating funds for Planned Parenthood is considered "against women's rights", I must be, too.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Playing Telephone
We were out a couple of weeks ago, when we saw someone we knew. After a few minutes of conversation, the person said, "So I heard that _________."
I hate that phrase!
What irked me about this situation was that the above mentioned person heard something from someone, who heard it from someone, who heard it from someone. Call it paranoia if you want, but I hate knowing that our business has gone through three people and then returned to us.
I was talking with another friend, after the previous incident, and she happened to say (without knowing about the situation), "I hope you know that when you tell me something, I don't go around blabbing it to everyone I know. Whether it's big or small news, private or not, you can trust me."
I appreciated this but also realized how naive I was to think that everyone automatically had this mentality!
I've found myself in situations where someone has shared someone else's business with me. When or if the original source decides they want to tell me their news, although it's deceiving, I act like it's the first time I've heard it. (In my defense, my mother has given me permission to lie in certain situations. I find this to be one of those times.)
So despite living near vineyards, I don't like hearing things through the grapevine.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Fitting In
I think I've mentioned the reunions my dad used to put on for my Grandpa's World War II buddies. The one held during my 7th grade school year was in Troy, MI. Just down the street from our hotel was Somerset Collection (a mall). One day, my brother and I walked to the mall to check things out. Dressed in our casual shorts and t-shirts, we could see that we weren't fitting in the second we walked in the door. When we saw the janitors sporting tuxedos, we turned around and went back to the hotel. The next day, we got dressed in khaki bottoms and white button up tops, and ventured back to the mall. We no longer stood out like sore thumbs and we blended right in with everyone else.
Earlier this month, LaVor and I were given passes to the local "club", which has a gym, swimming pools, tennis courts, etc. There have been a few extremely hot days and the passes to the pool have come in handy. The only thing is that I'm having flashbacks of Somerset Collection. There is an attitude in the air, at the club, that haunts me each time we go. I feel like we're constantly being looked at and we don't dress like everyone else or drive the same cars as everyone else and our son wears his cowboy boots instead of flip flops.
It makes me wish I was seven years old again and we had a place like "Swim Club" to go to. Summers at my club were the best! Zipping down the slide, playing ping pong, eating otter pops, frozen Twix and hot dogs, waiting 20 minutes before we could get back in the pool after eating, being brave enough to jump off the diving board, having lessons at the butt crack of dawn and being embarrassed to get too close to the teacher because I didn't brush my teeth, hearing the "buzz" of the gate that let us into this Summer paradise.
Those were the days. And I didn't have to wear khakis or a white shirt to fit in. Swim Club accepted me with my fuzzy bottom swimsuit and pink goggles. And I'm sure they'd accept The Lime with his boots.
(Just a glimpse of Somerset)
Earlier this month, LaVor and I were given passes to the local "club", which has a gym, swimming pools, tennis courts, etc. There have been a few extremely hot days and the passes to the pool have come in handy. The only thing is that I'm having flashbacks of Somerset Collection. There is an attitude in the air, at the club, that haunts me each time we go. I feel like we're constantly being looked at and we don't dress like everyone else or drive the same cars as everyone else and our son wears his cowboy boots instead of flip flops.
It makes me wish I was seven years old again and we had a place like "Swim Club" to go to. Summers at my club were the best! Zipping down the slide, playing ping pong, eating otter pops, frozen Twix and hot dogs, waiting 20 minutes before we could get back in the pool after eating, being brave enough to jump off the diving board, having lessons at the butt crack of dawn and being embarrassed to get too close to the teacher because I didn't brush my teeth, hearing the "buzz" of the gate that let us into this Summer paradise.
Those were the days. And I didn't have to wear khakis or a white shirt to fit in. Swim Club accepted me with my fuzzy bottom swimsuit and pink goggles. And I'm sure they'd accept The Lime with his boots.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Golden Ticket
Let me preface this post by saying I know the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true. The things, or perceptions, that come out of the mouths' of its members is sometimes not.
When it comes to discussions about missions, I get a little uncomfortable.
LaVor didn't serve a full-time mission and regrets that decision. Life is unique for everyone and choices are made daily that have consequences.
Few things are more awkward than when we have the Elders over for dinner and they ask where LaVor served. The dead silence after he responds with, "I didn't" is nothing new to us.
There is no need to sugarcoat this next part. I hate the idea, amongst church members, that if you serve a mission, you are granted an automatic pass to the Celestial Kingdom. By not serving a mission, you are doomed in your personal life, marital relationship, and role as a father.
During my Sophomore year of Seminary, we kept a journal on what we learned each day. Like every youth in the church does, we wrote down what characteristics we wanted in a spouse. Because it had been embedded in my mind that a return missionary was the only way to go, that was number one on my list.
Thankfully I grew a pair (figuratively) and crossed that off, as well as "owns a Harley" and "doesn't like rap".
I have no doubt in my mind that individuals are blessed when they serve a mission. Heck, if it weren't for two missionaries 38+ years ago, I would either not be here or my life would be completely different.
But I do doubt the fantasies that people have, that allow them to think (for themselves and their daughters) that a missionary is the Golden Ticket to live a happy, righteous life, and return to Heavenly Father.
I know people that go on missions because their parents want them to and come home a completely changed person. I know people who had a strong desire to serve a mission and were in the field but shortly after, came home. I know people who served an honorable mission but left the church later in life. I know people who didn't serve missions at all and people that served faithfully the entire two years or eighteen months. I only wish everyone in the above mentioned situations were viewed the same way. But unfortunately, they are not.
I've said my peace, amen.
When it comes to discussions about missions, I get a little uncomfortable.
LaVor didn't serve a full-time mission and regrets that decision. Life is unique for everyone and choices are made daily that have consequences.
Few things are more awkward than when we have the Elders over for dinner and they ask where LaVor served. The dead silence after he responds with, "I didn't" is nothing new to us.
There is no need to sugarcoat this next part. I hate the idea, amongst church members, that if you serve a mission, you are granted an automatic pass to the Celestial Kingdom. By not serving a mission, you are doomed in your personal life, marital relationship, and role as a father.
During my Sophomore year of Seminary, we kept a journal on what we learned each day. Like every youth in the church does, we wrote down what characteristics we wanted in a spouse. Because it had been embedded in my mind that a return missionary was the only way to go, that was number one on my list.
Thankfully I grew a pair (figuratively) and crossed that off, as well as "owns a Harley" and "doesn't like rap".
I have no doubt in my mind that individuals are blessed when they serve a mission. Heck, if it weren't for two missionaries 38+ years ago, I would either not be here or my life would be completely different.
But I do doubt the fantasies that people have, that allow them to think (for themselves and their daughters) that a missionary is the Golden Ticket to live a happy, righteous life, and return to Heavenly Father.
I know people that go on missions because their parents want them to and come home a completely changed person. I know people who had a strong desire to serve a mission and were in the field but shortly after, came home. I know people who served an honorable mission but left the church later in life. I know people who didn't serve missions at all and people that served faithfully the entire two years or eighteen months. I only wish everyone in the above mentioned situations were viewed the same way. But unfortunately, they are not.
I've said my peace, amen.
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| The list...that describes LaVor perfectly |
Thursday, February 9, 2012
[useless junk] Keep(s) Falling on My Head
Since my recent conversion to Pinterest, I've looked at more home decor photos in the last month than my entire life.
I would REALLY love to create a board called, "You've got to be kidding me!". But in my welcoming e-mail, Pinterest asked me to be nice and I follow the rules.
One thing that gets me going is when I see outrageous wall decor over a bed. Clearly these people are not taking into account earthquakes!
Could you imagine sleeping with all of this stuff directly over your head, when the earth starts shaking violently?
Someone needs to watch my video of the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.
I would REALLY love to create a board called, "You've got to be kidding me!". But in my welcoming e-mail, Pinterest asked me to be nice and I follow the rules.
One thing that gets me going is when I see outrageous wall decor over a bed. Clearly these people are not taking into account earthquakes!
Could you imagine sleeping with all of this stuff directly over your head, when the earth starts shaking violently?
Someone needs to watch my video of the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Don't Say Nothin' At All
I've said my share of mean things but there's one instance that stands out in my mind.
I was at a Youth Conference in Pacifica and everyone was enjoying dinner in the cultural hall. Our table was a mixture of kids from all over the Bay Area, which included an extremely obnoxious girl. From our table, she was yelling across the room at a boy, to get her a cup of punch. I casually got up from my seat, got her a drink, brought it back to her, and sat back down. She was shocked and said, "Thank you so much for getting that for me!" My response was, "I was sick of hearing you yelling at that kid. I got it so you'd be quiet." Everyone at our table erupted into laughter and she turned beet red with embarrassment.
I made a comment to a friend recently that, "If you tell a joke and end up being the only one laughing, then it wasn't funny." I've found myself in that situation one time too many.
And even though I got the whole table laughing at the conference, it was way out of line and completely rude.
I wish I had taken the opportunity to apologize to the girl when I had the chance.
I find myself, one year later, especially today, thankful for nice words.
And repentance.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Weiner Resemblance
If Bob Saget
and Beavis had a child...
they'd get a Weiner.
and Beavis had a child...
they'd get a Weiner.
I'd like to thank my 61 year old Pop, for pointing out the Beavis resemblance.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
You can't write if you can't relate - Beck
Sorry Beck, I'm writing.
I don't want to come across as cold, careless, a snot, jealous, anything like that.
I had never heard of Stephanie Nielson until her plane crash. The horrific news seemed to be everywhere; the news, internet, blogs, facebook. I think we were all, those that knew her and didn't know her, hoping for a miracle. I couldn't imagine leaving 4 kids and a husband without their mother & wife.
Based on the video clips I've seen and the stories I've heard, Stephanie was someone that women all over the world admired and related to.
But can anyone really relate to her? And I mean the average mom/woman that has a filthy house, a husband that is gone all day at work, limited space, lack of funds, a car that can barely make it to the next city, gets in arguments with her husband.
It's something I think about. And I think about the poor women who think they have to fit a certain mold and dress a certain way and act a certain way and blog a certain way and entertain a certain way.
Can anyone relate?
I don't want to come across as cold, careless, a snot, jealous, anything like that.
I had never heard of Stephanie Nielson until her plane crash. The horrific news seemed to be everywhere; the news, internet, blogs, facebook. I think we were all, those that knew her and didn't know her, hoping for a miracle. I couldn't imagine leaving 4 kids and a husband without their mother & wife.
Based on the video clips I've seen and the stories I've heard, Stephanie was someone that women all over the world admired and related to.
But can anyone really relate to her? And I mean the average mom/woman that has a filthy house, a husband that is gone all day at work, limited space, lack of funds, a car that can barely make it to the next city, gets in arguments with her husband.
It's something I think about. And I think about the poor women who think they have to fit a certain mold and dress a certain way and act a certain way and blog a certain way and entertain a certain way.
Can anyone relate?
Thursday, March 10, 2011
TMI
I think people have an issue with posting too much information online.
Being the blogstalker that I am, I view strangers private information all the time. Creepy, eh? But if I'm doing it, who else is? They may not all be as cute and innocent as I am. Not to mention, there's just some stuff that the public doesn't need to know.
I cringe when I see the following things:
-Posting middle and last names, birthdays, specific locations of where you live, work, go to school.
-Self portraits of people kissing.
-Announcing vacations, where you're going, how long you'll be gone.
-Anything related to what goes on inside of the Temple.
-People leaving their physical address in your comments section/Facebook wall!!!!
-Mentioning anything about your sex life.
-Posting pictures of the outside/inside of your home.
-Personal information that only you, Heavenly Father and possibly your Bishop should know about.
Did you ever hear that story of the woman who posted on her Facebook that she was going out of town and came back to a ransacked house? One of her "friends" broke in while she was gone. Hence why we have a mere 77 friends. I can keep track of every.one.of.you.
Am I going private with our blog? Absolutely not. Bill the Barber can look at my blog for all I care. Just gotta be smart and safe.
Being the blogstalker that I am, I view strangers private information all the time. Creepy, eh? But if I'm doing it, who else is? They may not all be as cute and innocent as I am. Not to mention, there's just some stuff that the public doesn't need to know.
I cringe when I see the following things:
-Posting middle and last names, birthdays, specific locations of where you live, work, go to school.
-Self portraits of people kissing.
-Announcing vacations, where you're going, how long you'll be gone.
-Anything related to what goes on inside of the Temple.
-People leaving their physical address in your comments section/Facebook wall!!!!
-Mentioning anything about your sex life.
-Posting pictures of the outside/inside of your home.
-Personal information that only you, Heavenly Father and possibly your Bishop should know about.
Did you ever hear that story of the woman who posted on her Facebook that she was going out of town and came back to a ransacked house? One of her "friends" broke in while she was gone. Hence why we have a mere 77 friends. I can keep track of every.one.of.you.
Am I going private with our blog? Absolutely not. Bill the Barber can look at my blog for all I care. Just gotta be smart and safe.
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