there's always more flab

I was running with my friends the other morning and we were all talking about weight we'd like to lose (cliche, no?) when I mentioned I thought my legs were the biggest part of me. (They are an inheritance from my mom's side of the family.) My companion said, "So? Mine are bigger. And someone else's are bigger than mine, and someone else's are bigger than hers, and so on and so on....There will always be worse." I think her point was that no matter how bad you think you have it, someone somewhere is in a worse spot than you are.

I think I'm going to try to remember this whenever I feel like complaining. Maybe take a second look at what I'm about to gripe about, and decide if it's really worth the gripe. DH and I discussed that this afternoon, and he mentioned a PBS show he watched last night that gave him food for thought. See, DH's company has been in some financial troubles over the past few months (it's a small company) and its very existence is currently in jeopardy, so it's looking like he will have to find another job in a field where lots of other people are in the same spot - out of work, I mean. He is understandably worked up over this, which is why he was watching PBS in the middle of the night.

Anyway, he was all full of butterflies over his employment situation and turned on this show about 2 women, roommates, who are middle-aged and both living with disabilities. One has MS, and the other, who must act as caregiver, has Down's Syndrome. (Wow, right?) Anyway, they both are on Medicaid or Medicare (DH couldn't remember which) and some sort of their disability coverage was threatening to be discontinued. Apparently they were claiming that they were homebound (probably true, for the most part), but under some law, "homebound" means that you really can't ever leave your home if you want to be considered as such. These women heard about some group that was lobbying for this law to be changed, and decided to go to Washington to join in the lobby. Medicaid (or Medicare or whoever) somehow found out that they left their home, and promptly began an investigation into whether they really needed that coverage. (Wow again.) So then all this then made DH rethink his situation and realize that okay, he has a few contacts with acquaintances in his field who have gotten him interviews and names of recruiters, his boss and coworkers all have good things to say about him, and maybe we could be grateful for what we have and not pull out our hair just yet.

The whole job question and the accompanying what-ifs (what if we have to move? what if there's nothing out there? what if we do get an offer but it's really low and it's the only one?) aren't resolved yet, so I don't know if a moral is a little premature, but here it is: there's always someone with fatter legs.


thank-you notes

(I got this idea from the first - and probably the last - "Late Show With Jimmy Fallon" I watched. Jimmy was a little wooden, but this idea was pretty good.)

Dear Sink of Dirty Dishes,

Thank you for waiting for me. You always do. No matter how much I try to ignore you. Would that other things in my life waited so patiently.


Dear Flip,

Thank you for practicing the piano when I asked. And thank you for getting through the whole practice session without a single rendition of Star Wars.


Dear 2nd Hunger Games Book,

Thank you for keeping me in suspense. And thank you for being a great escape from stress last week. And while I do appreciate a good cliffhanger, I don't appreciate having to wait a year to find out what happens next or who falls off that cliff. But you were still a good read. Really.


Dear DH,

Thank you for remembering to write cereal on the shopping list when you replaced the empty box from the pantry. Just for that, I might buy Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch next time.


Dear Stuntman,

Thanks for getting up and doing your chores when your alarm goes off pretty much every school morning. And thanks for being a good example for the other 2 kids, even though they're never awake to see you setting it. You are a great kid!


Dear Miss Bee,

Thank you for letting me do your hair. I have been waiting 2 boys' worth of bowl haircuts/clipper jobs to play with some curly, girly hair. I know you hate the tangles and the pulling, but it's so much fun. Thank you for cooperating with the scrunchies, ribbons, bobby pins and barrettes. And I promise - ponytails only once a week.

Love love love,

P.S. Thank you too for the new record - you've made it 1 1/2 years without giving yourself a haircut! I'm so proud of you!