#8 Do you stress over money concerns?

Uh, yeah. I stress a lot over money concerns. I've touched on this before with the "How do you spend your money?" question. My husband and I have probably had more than our fair share of bumps in the road, including medical crises and periods of unemployment, which have taken a heavy toll on our pocketbook. Not to mention that we live in an area which has one of the lowest pay rates in the country. It's true that the cost of living is also low, but it doesn't quite make up the difference. I also work at a job where we've gotten 0% salary increases for 3 years out of 10.

I'm currently working on a systematic plan of paying off our bills, one by one, until they're gone. When our youngest daughter graduates from college next year, the process will go faster. My husband has the ability to work overtime, and his overtime checks go for "fun" things--eating out, vacations, gifts. We've been in this tunnel for a long time, but I'm starting to see a very dim light shining at the other end.

#7 What can you get rid of to reduce the clutter in your life?

The only way I can begin to approach this subject is with a sense of humor. So here's my limerick:

The Clutter in My House

My husband’s a saver,

My daughter’s a hoarder,

In spite of the fact

That I like to have order.

Rugs chewed by the puppy,

A laptop to fix,

My daughter loves cameras,

There are thousands of pix.

Great grandma’s piano

Has seen better days,

The ivories are yellowed,

A half ton it weighs.

Down in the basement

Are Hot Wheels galore,

Rich ran out of shelving

They’re strewn on the floor.

Genealogy papers

Are up to my knees,

I’ve got data to enter

In my family trees.

Two sets of sterling,

Three sets of bone china,

I could have dinner parties,

The thought gives me angina.

In my walk-in closet

a black velvet dress

is a tiny size four,

Outgrown, I confess.

Upstairs in a closet

A tea bunny collection

Was rarely played with

To my recollection.

A Chevy transmission,

Hot Rod magazines,

My dad’s record albums,

I’m ready to scream!

Wedding décor

In lime green and hot pink

Saved for my stepdaughter

Who’ll reuse it—she thinks.

This just scratches the surface,

I’ll continue to sputter

'Bout what’s in my house

Till I can declutter!

#6 What forms of negative energy are around you?

Gosh, I feel as if I’ve been writing too much about negativity lately. Going to keep this brief!  I don’t think I’m unique when I say that the negative energy around me comes from three sources:

·    Negative individuals. They can be like vampires sucking the life out of me. But it’s important to realize that the negativity doesn’t always come from just that person. It often comes from the way I interact with the person, and that’s something I have control over.

·    Big business/corporate negative energy can be extremely draining. For example, I’ve had to deal with a lot of insurance claims and medical bills over the past few months, and  negativity is inevitably the nature of the beast. From the automated voices on the phone and interminable waits “on hold” to the repeated calls about the same problems, and the empty promises of resolution—it’s an endurance test of the worst kind. I’ve found it’s best to be proactive, wade through it as well as I can, and rely on my sense of humor to keep my sanity. I’ve regaled co-workers and family with ridiculously absurd stories of all the convoluted red tape I’ve been through.

·    Last but certainly not least:  My own thoughts are the main source of negative energy around me. It’s easy to be consumed by negativity when things go wrong, which they so often do. It’s harder to consciously replace that negative energy with positive thoughts—to think about what’s going right in my life; to pay attention to all the things I"m grateful for; to concentrate on my blessings.

Now to practice what I preach!

#5 Is your living space welcoming to you and to guests in your home?

Admittedly, this isn't something I gave much thought to in the past. In the busy, bordering on frantic days of working and raising two children, I was more concerned about functionality. With the three bedrooms in our home already occupied, we really had no private space for visitors. Company was either relegated to sleeping on the uncomfortable sofa bed in the den, or more often in one of the kids' cluttered bedrooms and the kids got stuck with the sofa bed. I’ve always strived to be clean and tidy (just don’t look in my husband’s garage!), but the concept of our home being welcoming wasn't exactly in the forefront of my mind.

Now that it's basically only my husband and I living there, a welcoming home has suddenly become much more important. I want our home to be our sanctuary. I want it to be a warm place that my children and future grandchildren consider their second home. I want it to be an inviting retreat for visiting friends and relatives. To me, a welcoming home is not about perfection but rather about acquiring a “lived-in cozy” look. Making it that way is often more about attention to detail than it is about having lots of money to spend.

My favorite features of our home are:

·         the sunroom at the back of the house

·         the bay window area of the master bedroom

·         the stone fireplace that takes up almost one full wall of the living room

·         the soft, muted pumpkin shade of paint on our living room walls; love it!

·         the large, wrap-around front porch

My top areas for improvement (and most of these things DO cost money) are:

·    I’m in desperate need of a cozy reading/laptop corner featuring an over-stuffed chair, a table and a lamp. The sunroom would be the most logical place for this, but it would require installation of heat/air and another electrical outlet.

·    Our house has always been on the dark side and needs much better lighting throughout. So far, the only room where we’ve made lighting improvements is the kitchen.

·    I’d love to have either an outside deck or patio area. An inviting place to sit and eat outside. A home for the barbecue, which currently sits in the driveway near the garage door.

·    More curb appeal; much of our front yard has been destroyed by erosion, the driveway is crumbling, and the ugly cinderblock wall that lines the driveway has cracked in several places and has got to go! Big bucks here.

·    Less clutter in general. I’m still dealing with the fallout of receiving half a household of my mom’s stuff. Much has either been incorporated into our own home, sold, donated or trashed, but there’s still a ways to go.  

When all is said and done, the bottom line and most important factor is that a welcoming home has lots of smiles and laughter.

#4 Do you have people in your life who are abusive, angry, demeaning, hurtful, not supportive, unethical or crazy?

I think everyone has people like this in their lives. All you have to do is read through some of my past blogs to know that I have a husband who is angry more often than I'd like; a brother who can be very hurtful; a co-worker who is unsupportive by taking all the credit for herself; and an ex-wife who has some psychological issues! The trick is in learning how to deal with these people in the most effective way. Or, in the most extreme cases, to decide that enough is enough because life is too short, banish them from my life if possible, and move on. I'm either unwilling or unable to remove any of these people from my life, so now it's up to me to figure out how to respond and react to them.

I've found that it can take years to learn how to prevent these types of people from hurting and getting to me. And even when the other person acknowledges their behavior and realizes the negative effect that it has on their relationships, it can take a long time to change these ingrained behaviors. Sometimes, despite all the hard work and best intentions, change sadly never occurs.

I'm reminded of two Eleanor Roosevelt pearls of wisdom (she was such an insightful lady):  "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" and "If someone betrays you once, it's their fault; if they betray you twice, it's your fault." Both of these quotes have similar meanings. The onus is on you to define yourself; not to let others define you. Don't judge yourself through someone else's eyes. Don't feel responsible for someone else's bad behavior. This is easier said than done. It's human nature to feel like others tell you to feel. It takes a lot of self-esteem to rise above the negative comments and actions without internalizing them.

I'm trying to live by Eleanor's words. It's an ongoing process.

#3 Do you treat your body like a sacred vessel? What changes can you make?

This is one area where I’ve always done pretty well. If I were to give myself a grade, it would be a B: above average, but room for improvement.

I’m good to my body. I’ve never been a smoker or much of a drinker, I have annual physicals, and always wear a seatbelt. I’ve been an outdoor kind of girl from the time I was a kid. I amused myself for hours by turning endless cartwheels across the grass, riding my bike (I could circle the entire block with no hands), hitting a tennis ball against the brick wall on the back patio, and playing basketball in the driveway or baseball in the backyard with the neighborhood kids.

When I was in college, I worked in Glacier and Rocky Mountain National Parks for three summers, where we spent our days off hiking, backpacking, and mountain climbing. I also took several college physical education classes just for the fun of it—tennis, gymnastics, dance, even skiing. I joined my first gym in 1979 and have obtained gym memberships steadily ever since. When we lived in California, we spent many enjoyable weekends and vacations water skiing on the Colorado River. Thanks to my friend Sue, I also got into road biking six years ago and I’ve done a number of state rides and put several thousand miles on my bike. I’m blessed by the fact that exercise and physical activity are never chores for me—I truly enjoy them.

However, there’s still room for lots of improvement in my diet. I used to think that I could exercise away my food choices. But as I got older, I found that didn’t work anymore. Almost before I realized it, I had gained 20 pounds after we moved to Georgia. In 2003, I joined Weight Watchers and lost all I had gained. A few pounds have crept back on since then, and I’m constantly challenging myself to make healthier food choices, eat more vegetables, drink more water. Sometimes I’m successful and sometimes not. I’m thankful that food was never used as a reward when I was a child, so I usually don’t think of it in that manner.  When I slip up, I don’t chastise myself or dwell on it too much, but just decide to do better next time.

People usually think I'm younger than I really am. Just this past weekend, six of us were eating dinner at a sidewalk cafe and my 21-year-old daughter and I were the only ones carded when we ordered beers! OK, granted, it was dark outside and the outdoor lights were dim. But it still made my evening, and I'm very thankful for having "youthful" genes!

#2 Do you spend a lot of time traveling to and from places? If so, is it worth it?

I’ve gotta say, we have it pretty good commute-wise where we are now. For me, work is 10 miles and an easy 15 minutes away. The campus where I work has a variety of places to eat, a nice state-of-the-art gym, and even a post office. So once I get there, I really don’t need to leave if I don’t want to.

My husband’s commute is a little longer—30 minutes in each direction. But he works at the Base, which is its own little self-contained city. Restaurants, banks, a post office, a gym, a dry cleaners, and even a BX where you can buy almost everything you can dream up are easily accessible.

Having come to Georgia from Southern California, the easy commuting and light traffic here is a delightful treat. In California, we had moved out to Riverside County in order to buy a nice, new house at a reasonable price and to get our girls in better schools. The tradeoff was facing a long, ugly commute to our jobs in the Los Angeles area. This meant traveling on the 91 Freeway, which we unaffectionately nicknamed “The Beast.”

I wangled a deal with my employer in Redondo Beach where I’d work for three days per week and the company would put me up in a hotel for the two nights I spent in the city. So I just drove one round trip into Los Angeles County each week. Rich, on the other hand, worked at Northrop Aircraft at that time and had to make the long commute on The Beast every day. It was an hour’s drive when the traffic was light in the early mornings, but it often turned into a 2 to 2-1/2 hour nightmare of start-and-stop, bumper-to-bumper traffic in the late afternoons. He’d frequently arrive home exhausted and frustrated. How he did that for several years, I’ll never know.

We have to chuckle now when we find ourselves complaining about the 30-minute drive to North Macon to get to the new mall and the movie theater. We quickly remind each other how much better this is compared to days of yore!

Let's explore... the "12 Critical Things You Should Never Tolerate" [Credit: Pick the Brain] #1 Do you have work that fulfills you?

An unequivocal no would be my answer here, but the reasons why are a little more complicated. I’ve worked in the Technical Services Dept. of a university library for the past 11 years. That’s a long time to dislike your job! But truth be told, I haven’t always felt this way. It’s more like I’ve grown to feel trapped in it.

I’ve held the exact same position for the duration of a decade, plus some, with little opportunity for growth. It’s a system in which, unless you have an MLS degree, you pretty much stay at the same level.  You can interview for other equivalent positions to gain some semblance of variety, but you remain a staff member making the same pay.

It’s very low paying, but it’s a typical wage for the area. To give this some perspective, I currently make the same salary that I made in California in 1982. It can be very demoralizing at times. Last fall, I watched with a strong sense of injustice as two friends and co-workers were let go in a massive campus layoff, while at the same time the media was announcing the construction of a new football stadium and the simultaneous hiring of a well-known football coach.

I deal with a very difficult co-worker on a daily basis. She’s the only other person who does the exact same job that I do, and she’s been there for many more years than I have. This is a person who’s very negative and constantly complaining (kind of like I am in this blog!). A single woman in her 40s, her job is her whole world. She’s an extremely vocal and outspoken person who usurps credit and praise whether she’s deserving of it or not. Special projects come our way on occasion, and she feels slighted if she’s not chosen and will fight until she’s added to the project. I’ll admit to pathetically giving up the battle in the past two years or so. At this point, I let her take them all; I’m worn out. She can knock herself out for the same pitiful salary and the meager amount of praise that comes her way. Yeah, I admit to having a sucky attitude and becoming a doormat in this respect; it just doesn’t seem to be worth the hassle anymore.

So why do I stay? My age is a consideration; I only have a couple of years left before I retire so why go through the upheaval of changing at this point?  Another factor is the unavailability of jobs in Central Georgia, and unfortunately it was this way long before the current recession. It’s an area known for three basic employers: the Air Force Base, the huge medical center, and a large hub for Geico Insurance Company. None of those are my “thing.”

I do get some positive strokes as well. I’m known as the reliable, prompt, responsible worker bee who helps out in a pinch. There’s something to be said for that. I’m the person asked to look over all marketing or public relations materials before release to the public, and have become known for my ability to rephrase and catch errors. A number of people confide in me and I’ve been told by one that I’m “like Switzerland” because I try to stay unbiased and give helpful insight on what the other person may be feeling or thinking in conflicts. In these small ways I feel valued, although it’s not enough.

Another plus--the bustling campus environment is not only beautiful but stimulating, and contact with the students helps keep my perspective lively and young. I mean, I’m a close-to-60-year-old woman (gulp!) who sings along with Kings of Leon and works out in the gym with 20-something-year-olds on a regular basis. I may not look exactly like them, but I'm right there with them. Smile.

And so it goes. I continue to endure.

What is your position on capital punishment?

A prisoner here in Georgia named Troy Davis was just executed last night, while there was still ongoing debate about his guilt. Although his trial took place several years ago, some witnesses have recently recanted their testimony. Right up until the end, this prisoner was declaring his innocence. Sadly, it’s a distinct possibility that an innocent man could have been put to death.

That situation definitely makes me question the death policy.

Capital punishment and its “eye for an eye” mentality does seem antiquated and barbaric. To me, capital punishment is like an extreme form of hitting a child as punishment for hitting someone else. You're killing someone for killing someone else. It sends the wrong message and just makes no sense.

On the other hand, I don’t know how I’d feel about capital punishment if I actually had a family member brutally murdered. And I know that it costs a lot of money to keep a person in prison for life, let alone contributing to the problem of prison overcrowding. So that doesn’t seem to be the ideal option, either.

Also, is the possibility of capital punishment a better deterrent than life in prison? Or vice versa? 

I admire people who form a firm opinion and speak up on issues like this. I really do. As for me, I’m as wishy-washy as they come.

Don't think too hard... Go with the first memory that comes to mind: The word is: ELEPHANT. 10 minutes. Write.

Elephants, huh? No particular memories come to mind. I’m tempted to pass on this question but I guess I’ll just try some free association for awhile.

As a child, my oldest daughter’s favorite book was “The Elephant and the Ant.” I read that book aloud several times daily. It was a cute story—about the smallest, most insignificant member of the jungle finding a way to help the biggest, strongest animal when he was in trouble.

I bet my daughter is glad she’s not an elephant right now… if so, she’d be pregnant for another year. J

I recently saw the movie “Water for Elephants,” a story set in the Depression about good versus evil in a traveling circus. Loved the story and watching Robert Pattinson didn’t hurt, either.

Hmmmm, of course there’s the saying about having the memory of an elephant… which would really have come in handy back in my school days. OK, I admit it, it would come in handy even now.

People talk about the “elephant in the room” and who hasn’t been in that situation before... when there’s an obvious truth that people are ignoring or not addressing. They’d rather pretend it’s not there than to deal with it.

The elephant is the Republican symbol. My mom comes from a long line of Republicans. My dad, on the other hand, came from a long line of Democrats. Politics were never discussed in our house and as kids, we were told that your political beliefs were your own private business. My parents wouldn’t even tell us who they voted for in the elections. For me, this resulted in a total disinterest in politics, which really stems from a lack of education in that arena. Looking back, I think that lively discussions about politics at the dinner table would have been much more educational and beneficial to us.

OK, 10 minutes is up and that’s all she wrote on the subject of elephants!

What are you in the process of balancing?

I’m constantly working on balancing my time, which I'm sure is no different from many other working wives/mothers/caretakers. I’m the type of person who needs a lot of “me” time to recharge my batteries, rejuvenate, and keep myself on target regarding my goals. Shoot, who am I kidding? More often than not, “me” time is spent mindlessly puttering. Or dabbling (I love to dabble).

Finding time for “me” in busy, calendar-filled days has frustrated me more than ever in the past year.  Quite honestly, I’ve been known to get annoyed with my husband on occasion for being around too much of the time. Sad, isn’t it? Creating “me” time in a week filled with 40 hours of employment, running a household, and caring for the various needs of a husband, two daughters (who knew that they’d still have so many “needs” when they’re grown?), and an aging mother is challenging.

I’ve made some improvements lately. I value fitness and I’ve figured out that the only way I can ensure working out most days is to attend exercise classes during my lunch hour. I’ve recently decided to read each night when I go to bed; the problem there is that I often fall asleep before finishing the first page!  Since recuperating from my accident, I try to plan a bike ride each weekend. And, my most recently acquired self-indulgent pursuit is writing in this blog. For me, these are all happy, fulfilling activities that help keep me sane.

Still, by my calculations, that’s less than 10% “me” time per week. But for now, in these days of the over-extended calendar, all I can do is carve out the minutes I can, savor the moments I do have, and look forward to more in the future. Baby steps!

Describe a love/hate relationship you once had.

Oh, this one will definitely take longer than 10 minutes!

Hate is a pretty strong word, so I might have to tone that down a little bit to “strongly dislike.” Unfortunately, my love/strong dislike relationship is with my only sibling, and rather than being confined to the past, it’s still ongoing.

From my standpoint, he and I did our share of fighting as kids, but I loved my brother without question. I never really felt there was any kind of competition going on for our parents’ affections. My mother bent over backward to make sure we were treated equally. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that my brother has an entirely different viewpoint from mine.

He stayed in Michigan, where he married and raised his kids, while I moved to California and started a family. When our parents retired, they moved to Arizona, so my family saw them quite a bit more than his did, being in closer proximity. Three years after we moved to Georgia, our parents relocated to Florida. So again we were in fairly close proximity. My dad died a year after their move.

As my oldest daughter went through some rough teenage years, I confided in my mother. She was a good sounding board and had a knack for comforting me, for making me feel that I wasn’t alone and that there were many parents dealing with things worse than what I was going through. During this time my brother and I had drifted away from one another. Our families saw each other maybe once every two or three years, usually at Christmas time. There were few phone calls between us.

One fall afternoon after returning home from an afternoon out, I had a phone message from my brother asking me to please return his call. I was happy to hear from him and immediately called him back. I was in for the shock of a lifetime when he unexpectedly let me have it. He told me that he was sick and tired of hearing about my kids from our mother, especially about my oldest daughter. In fact, he was so sick of hearing mom defend her that he had just told our mother some things he had learned about her from his own daughter. Things she had done that I didn’t even know about—things that I still don’t know to this day. He thought I needed to quit confiding in our mother because she was getting older and didn’t need to worry about my problems.  He said that our parents had always been partial to me and had done a lot more for me, so now I needed to help mom. In his words, “It’s your turn for payback.”

When I hung up the phone I was stunned. And I cried… for days. This was followed by a series of emails between us with lots of hurtful things and ugly words said. I was in full defense mode; he was in full attack mode. I told him he owed me an apology; he said I’d never get one.

We didn’t see each other or talk on the phone again for another five years. Then I was planning a bike ride in Michigan, which started not far from where he lived. I cautiously emailed him and his wife, explaining that I’d be in the area for one night during the ride and maybe we could get together. There was no word from them, no invitation to spend the night or get together for dinner. It just so happened that my niece called soon after that, asking for help with a college project. She expressed interest in seeing me while I was in Michigan. When I told her that I was having some transportation issues, she offered to give me a ride to the starting point. I thanked her and told her I’d let her know.  A day later I received a scathing email from my brother. “You haven’t been up here to see us for years; now you’re planning on spending just one evening with us and asking us to be your limo driver.” Again, hurtful words, but rather than reacting with tears this time I could feel the anger rising. I picked up the phone and called him. We hashed it out and came to a cautious truce. I took him up on their belated invitation to spend the night, but I found alternative transportation to the starting point.

Our relationship has gotten only slightly better since then.  I never did get an apology, but that’s not even important to me anymore. It’s the remaining underlying feeling of distrust and betrayal that causes me pain. I sometimes wonder if our dad’s death somehow contributed to my brother’s feelings of inequality. I’m no psychologist, but maybe there was some unfinished business and deep-seated issues there that he regrets.

I’ve heard it said that your relationship with your sibling is most likely the longest relationship you’ll have in your lifetime. And your sibling is one of a handful of people who knows you best.  It hurts my heart to think that one of the most important relationships in my life may be damaged beyond repair.

"Wisdom begins in wonder." ~ Socrates What do you wonder about?

I wonder about a lot of things, past, present and future. The list is never ending. These are a few of the things I’ve pondered recently and it's just the tip of the iceberg:

I wonder how my life might have been different if I had a sister.

Why can’t people get along?

I wonder how and when I’m going to die but I don’t really want to know the answer.

Will my daughters have happy, productive adult lives?

Why did Sandy Ralph tell everyone she didn’t like me in seventh grade?

Will I be able to tolerate going to work day in and day out in my present job until I retire?

How did Caylee Anthony really die?

If we had stayed in California rather than moving to Georgia, how would our lives be different?

Why do some people have to go through so much suffering?

Will I ever have a good relationship with my brother again?

How old will I be before I can’t ride long distances on my bike anymore?

Do ghosts really exist?

If I were to exercise and eat healthy every day for a year, would it really change how my body looks?

Why do I have such a hard time making good, lasting friendships here in Macon, Georgia?

Will Obama be the president for four more years?

Is there such a thing as heaven?

Will I be like my mother when I get old?

What age is considered old?

At the end of my life, will I be able to look back with satisfaction, knowing I did the best job I could and feeling as if I made a difference?

Why don’t I ever have the dream where I can jump really, really high anymore?

"My advice to you is get married: if you find a good wife you'll be happy; if not, you'll become a philosopher." ~ Socrates What is your feeling about or attitude towards marriage?

It’s complicated! How ironic is it that society expects us to choose a life partner when we're in our 20s or 30s and we barely even know ourselves yet? Is it “normal” that I've been married for 25 years now and I'm still second-guessing my choice? Still thinking about the qualities I'd look for in a partner if I had to do it all over again?

That's not to say I regret my marriage by any means. We've had many good times along with the bad, serene times along with the stressful, downright joyful times along with the heartaches. As I watched my husband walk our daughter down the aisle at her wedding, his face contorted with emotion, I thought, "There's nobody else in the world who could put his entire heart and soul into this exact moment."

Thinking in practical terms, which qualities would I keep and which ones would I change in my spouse if I could?

Keepers:

·        Unafraid to feel and express his emotions

·        Affectionate

·        Complimentary

·        Great dad who tells his daughters he loves them and is proud of them

·        Reliable

·        Trustworthy

·        Straight forward

·        Unthreatened by me “doing my own thing,” even to the point of going   on vacations with my friends

·        Has his own outside interests

If I could, I’d change:

·        Explosive anger

·        Vastly unequal sex drives (he being the more needy)

·        We need more common interests

·        Not as physically active as I’d like, low energy level

·        Not as adventuresome as I’d like (although he gets kudos for taking those   dance lessons with me!)

·        Holds grudges

·        Tends to see the glass half empty

·        Needs to improve listening skills; be less defensive (but then so do I!)

·        Wish we had more similar attitudes toward spending/saving money

·        Wish he took more pride in our home; i.e. working on it together

I notice a couple of things about my lists. First of all, they’re almost even in length (I had honestly thought the negative list would be way longer--now who sees the glass half empty?). Secondly, we’ve done some work on several of the negatives and made some compromises but the anger issue has definitely dealt the most heartache through the years and still needs to improve.

My biggest fear about our marriage? Finally reaching our retirement years when we have a chance to slow down, breathe, and really enjoy life and each other’s company. But instead finding ourselves sitting across the table staring at one another with nothing to say and no common interests. We still have quite a bit of work to do to make sure that fear doesn’t become reality.

"If a man is proud of his wealth, he should not be praised until it is known how he employs it." ~ Socrates How do you spend your money?

This is a touchy subject in the Tingley household for sure.

I was raised by a mother who’s the queen of frugal. Having lived during the Depression, she prizes saving money above all else. It’s not saving to buy things, it’s just the act of saving itself that makes her happy. When we were kids we couldn’t buy summer memberships at the neighborhood pool despite the fact that our friends had joined. We weren’t even allowed to buy ice cream from the truck that circled the neighborhood on summer evenings because “the ice cream in the freezer is less expensive.” The embarrassing red Chrysler that my mother drove way past its prime was dubbed the “cherry bomb” by our friends. Granted, we were certainly never lacking when it came to the things that really mattered. My brother and I watched mom put a good bit of cash into our piggy banks every Sunday, which was earmarked for our college educations. When the banks got full, the money was deposited into accounts and she started over again. Due to all her saving, my parents not only managed to retire early but to travel and truly enjoy their retirement years. But, bless her heart, I have to wonder how much she really enjoyed life during all those in-between years of deprivation.

Given these childhood influences, my own pitiful lack of saving through the years undoubtedly stems from a little bit of rebellion.  But in my defense, our financial security has also gone through lots of ups and downs over the span of our 25-year marriage. My husband has had two long bouts of unemployment after layoffs, coupled with two lengthy periods of disability due to heart surgeries. I had one year of unemployment when we moved to Georgia, and two short periods of no pay when my dad died and after a recent bike accident.  During these events, we’ve raised two daughters and contributed what we could to my stepdaughter’s life. Add a large pile of medical bills and prescriptions, a daughter in college, and a recent wedding into the mix, and you have a recipe for financial strife.

If it weren’t for credit cards, I don’t know what we would have done during those lean times. Unfortunately, we’re still paying the debts we’ve accumulated, and an embarrassing percentage of our income goes to paying bills. I’ve become very adept at robbing Peter to pay Paul, and my husband tells people I have the uncanny ability to pull rabbits out of hats. Admittedly, I probably could have paid the bills off a little earlier, but unlike my mother, I’ve chosen the “live a little” philosophy.

As with many couples, my husband and I view spending money in different ways, which has often been a source of conflict. Cash burns a hole in his pocket and he can spend a fortune on tools, car and motorcycle parts when given the opportunity. He’s voluntarily given up all his credit cards because he knows he’s dangerous with them.  I can generally avoid the temptation to spend too much money on things, although occasionally I’ll deliberately treat myself. And there are certain causes that I feel strongly about and contribute to every year without fail. But where I can’t seem to skimp is on vacations, weekends away, and other excursions. I admit, I’m a sucker for a fun adventure and will go whether we actually have the cash in hand or not. And I’m downright extravagant on Christmas and birthdays, especially when it comes to our daughters.

It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve been pretty diligent about paying our debts and I’m excited to say that we’re starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  According to “the plan,” our retirement years should be measurably easier than the rough road along the way.

"A system of morality which is based on relative emotional values is a mere illusion, a thoroughly vulgar conception which has nothing sound in it and nothing true." ~ Socrates How would you describe your system of morality?

I think my system of morality has a fairly strong base. Like most people, I fall somewhere smack in the middle between Mother Teresa and say, Casey Anthony. I do know the difference between right and wrong in my intentions, decisions, and actions, but I’ve been known to slip up and stumble at times.

My moral standards have definitely been dynamic rather than static over the years. There was that time I let my brother take the blame for eating all the cookies when I knew I was just as guilty, and the day I allowed the girl in front of me in Spanish class to cheat off my test though I knew it was wrong.  I’ve told my share of white lies, I’ve been guilty of speeding and parking illegally… and then there were those wild college years (we won’t go into the details here).

In thinking about how I developed my sense of morality, I come up with the following list:

• From my parents as role models. I’m pretty sure that my mother was the first one to explain the Golden Rule, and I definitely remember watching her return money to the cashier when she was given too much change. Being the electrical inspector for the city, my dad was given plenty of opportunity to accept contractors’ bribes, but he prided himself in taking a pass on the free lunches and gifts he was offered.
• From social interaction with peers, teachers, friends.
• Through instinct. I’m particularly thinking about the quality of empathy--the ability to put myself in others’ shoes is a big influence on my morality.
• From episodes of Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver.  J

Religion is noticeably absent from my list; it’s never been a particularly big influence on my life. I remember once when my daughter was young and I discovered she had shoplifted a necklace from a store we visited. I made her return it and apologize, and later I told a friend about the incident. She remarked, “Have you ever thought about taking her to church?” I was struck by the fact that she equated religion with having a higher moral standard. I believe it’s entirely possible to distinguish right from wrong without knowing anything Moses and the Ten Commandments written on the stone tablets.  I also think a moral compass derived from within is much stronger than one dictated from the outside; i.e. threats of not going to heaven if you don’t behave; fear of no gifts from Santa if you’re naughty.

It occurs to me that there are lots of shades of gray in between the black and white of morals. If I found out that my neighbor stole $1,000 from the store down the street, would I report it to police? More than likely. If I found out my neighbor had cheated on his taxes by $1,000, would I report it to the IRS? Probably not. So, does it follow that stealing from the store is wrong, but stealing from the government is OK? Food for thought.

"Never look down on anybody unless you're helping him up." ~ Jesse Jackson Who are you helping up?

This is a scarily relevant question for me. For the past year, I could be the poster child for helping behavior. Maybe not the kind of helping that the prompt is hoping to elicit, which I imagine to be the mentoring/working in a soup kitchen type of helping, but helping nonetheless.

I moved my 88-year-old blind and hard-of-hearing mother from her own home in Florida to a senior retirement center in Macon in June of 2010. Let me preface this by saying that I love my mom dearly, but we’ve never been extremely close or compatible and I do admit to some trepidation as to how this move would impact my life. I calmed those fears with images of my mother making new friends her own age, swapping life stories, knocking on each other’s doors for afternoon tea. And as she increased her social interaction, I pictured myself gracefully bowing out, dropping by once or twice a week to visit, pay her bills, take her grocery shopping.

Unfortunately, those visions haven’t come to fruition and I still find myself stopping at her apartment every day after work. The social interaction, with the exception of her lunch hour in the dining room, is non-existent. As I arrive on pretty days, I see many of the elderly ladies sitting outside, chatting and laughing. But my mother is alone in her apartment, listening to her talking books. She’s never been an outdoor person—too hot, too cold, too windy, too buggy—you get the picture. (Am I really her daughter?) The fact that she can’t see and has fallen twice also plays a big role in her reluctance to venture out. She’s very dependent on my visits, requesting that I call her if I can’t stop, which deters me from calling because I then have to come up with a viable “reason.”

I never know how long I’ll be there or what I’ll find when I stop. One day she had accidentally dumped an entire new box of detergent between her washer and dryer, which reside in a hallway closet.  I  wrestled the machines out of the closet, cleaned up the soap, and wrestled them back in again. Another day, deciding to rearrange things, she had emptied her entire clothes closet on her bed, forgetting that she couldn’t see to match up the pants and blouses again. I’m Ms. Fix-It for any broken items (or items that she thinks are broken due to operator error).  I’ve learned to interpret the numerous financial statements she receives for her complicated system of stocks and bonds, and I often repeat those figures over and over again to an 88-year-old mind that now hopelessly scrambles numbers.

She imparts a sense of urgency to all awaiting tasks. One afternoon, when I got up to leave after an extended visit, she said, “Oh, I wanted you to sew this button on my blouse.”  My heart sinking and my stomach growling for dinner, I asked, “How about if I do that tomorrow?” She hesitated. “Well… I was hoping you could do it today.”  So I caved, all the while thinking of her closet full of clothes and wondering why, in her mind, this blouse had to be repaired NOW.

My mother has always enjoyed telling stories, repeating her favorite tales over and over again whether the listener has heard them before or not. Aging has exacerbated that quality, and her forgetfulness causes her to change the details or even switch the people involved. I listen without correcting or interrupting, even when the story is sometimes repeated twice or (God help me) three times in the same conversation.

So before you nominate me for sainthood, let me just say that my helping behavior produces a veritable cornucopia of feelings and emotions, and they aren’t all pretty.  I’m often struggling to keep the impatience out of my voice. I’m fighting the resentment over the loss of “me” time, and then feeling guilty and selfish over that very resentment. And all the while, I’m sad to see her confusion and helplessness, worried over whether she’s really happy—and wondering what I’ll be like in MY old age.

"There is no use trying, said Alice; one can't believe impossible things. I dare say you haven't had much practice, said the Queen. When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." ~ Lewis Carroll What six impossible things do you believe in?

I won’t deny it, the first reading of this question struck an absurd chord with me. Belief in the impossible? Like Alice, I had trouble letting go and falling down that rabbit hole into Wonderland, allowing my imagination to take flight. But then it occurred to me that belief in the impossible actually creates the possible. And suddenly I could easily list more than just the requisite six items. So here goes, my impossible list:

• I am no longer in debt—all long-term bills have been paid off. Ahhh… such freedom!
• My decisions from now on will all be aimed at taking risks and introducing change rather than focused on fear and maintaining the status quo.
• I will find a way to make a difference in someone else’s life every day.
• My as yet unwritten novel will be published.
• I will quit the job in the toxic environment and have the time to write, enjoy nature, and do a physical activity (biking, hiking,swimming) every day I want to.
• I have a long, long list of books I want to read and musicians I’d like to see in concert and one by one, I will check off the books and bands on the list. All the while, of course, adding more to these never-ending lists.
• OK, this one’s important. All friends and family members of my choosing will leave their respective abodes from different locations across the U.S. and move to either a row of colorful beachfront homes, or a row of rustic lakeside mountain cabins (exactly location as yet to be determined; I’m flexible that way). There will always be someone with whom to chat, bike, hike, exercise, craft, or attend said concerts above whenever the mood strikes.
• And since we’re on the beach or at the lake, I will have the opportunity to wiggle my toes in white sand whenever I feel the urge, and look terrific in a bikini while doing so. (After all, this IS believing in the impossible!)

Wow, I feel invigorated and happier already, just thinking of all those cool “impossibilities”—or are they?

"Here's to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes . . . the ones who see things differently. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can't do is ignore them because they change things . . . they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world are the ones who do." ~ Steve Jobs Who are the "crazy ones" around you that are changing the world?

Interesting question although a little daunting. I think I may tweak it a little bit: Who is attempting to change the world, or even who has the potential to change the world?

I think my youngest daughter Julie fits into the latter category. She’s always been the quirky child who marches just slightly off-kilter to the beat. Her friends are a group of eclectic but lovable misfits and  creative souls—artists and musicians among them. She was the child who could be counted on to befriend  the left-out classmate. A vegetarian due to animal rights issues, she has rescued abandoned and abused animals, including a dog, a bunny, and two goats. Yes, goats—she kept them until her college landlord (who probably figures he’s seen it all now) banished them from the premises, after which she found a new home for them on a farm. She explores new and different ideas and cultures by reading books and taking classes in a wide variety of subjects—Marxism, atheism, Buddhism among them. All her clothes are recycled items from the Goodwill or Salvation Army ("except underwear" she says—thankfully), and she’s undoubtedly fed a large number of Atlanta’s homeless with her groceries. I think she can potentially do anything she sets her mind on doing, and persuade others to join her along the way.

My friend Teresa is the queen of green. Her motto is recycle, reduce, reuse. She’s on a personal crusade to replace the purchase of water in plastic bottles with Nalgene bottles and Brita filters. She’s building an environmentally friendly cabin complete with a composting toilet, and she bought a hybrid car to save on gasoline consumption. Like Julie, she buys clothes in consignment or thrift shops. Her expendable cash goes toward causes such as the Buffalo Field Campaign in Montana to stop the slaughter of wild bison.  And her spare time is spent working with groups to maintain trails and build foot bridges. If it has to do with the environment, Teresa is there—donating, building, helping.

The third person who comes to mind is my friend George. In 1999, George was diagnosed with ALS, commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. At the time, he had a long list of professional achievements under his belt in the arena of telecommunications, but after his diagnosis, his greatest goal was to raise awareness for all disabilities. For 7 years he struggled with his disease, refusing to retire or slow down. With his infectious personality, he had many friends and supporters. George succumbed to ALS in 2006 at the age of 50, but he established the George Vinall Foundation before he died. The Foundation successfully sponsors a walk every year in Washington D.C., along with an annual golf outing/reception, with proceeds going toward raising awareness and finding a cure for ALS. George’s self-written epitaph reads, “Armed with little more than a rickety wheelchair and a big mouth, he tirelessly lobbied on the Hill… but failed in his crusade to fix the handicapped door on the eighth floor of the FCC, which remains broken to this day.” George left a lasting legacy. And I’ll bet that broken handicapped door has been fixed now.

On the 10-year anniversary of September 11th, reflect on how your perspective has changed over the last decade.

It was Rich's 50th birthday and we had plans to go out to a nice dinner after work. Little did we know that after the events of that morning, he'd be detained by a lockdown at the Base. By the time he was allowed to leave, we just went out for a quick meal at Applebees. The TVs were on and we all ate in silence, listening to the devastating news of that day in stunned disbelief. A lady at another table had tears streaming down her cheeks. Rich says his birthday has never quite been the same again.

Rich's dad had died 6 days earlier, and we were scheduled to fly to CA to spread his ashes at sea a few days after the 11th.  Our flight was canceled and rescheduled a couple of times and it would have been easy to give up the trip, but it was so important for us to be there. The airlines finally patched together several short flights and we hopscotched across the country to Los Angeles in a halting, bizarre pattern. Most flights were practically empty. I remember getting on a plane in Charlotte, NC and the only people in coach were Rich and I, along with two dark-haired, dark-skinned men who were traveling together. They could have been from anywhere, and they had obviously passed a rigorous security check, but I couldn't stop myself from anxiously sending furtive, suspicious glances in their direction.

I find myself using 9-11 as a major event in my personal timeline. Let's see, exactly when did Rich's dad pass away?  Well, it was 6 days before 9-11 so had to be Sept. 5th. Hmmm, did my dad pass away in 2001 or 2002? Well, it was the summer after 9-11, so had to be 2002.

9-11 is one of those days in your lifetime you never forget. Life has inevitably gone on, but a sense of security has been replaced by a feeling of fragility and a disquieting vulnerability lurking way under the surface.

What is it that you WILL NOT stand for?

Funny that this should be the question of the day. Timely. I know what I CAN'T STAND, and right now I'm just trying to figure out how to take a proactive stance and turn a CAN'T STAND situation into a WILL NOT STAND situation.

I can't stand drama queens who meddle in other people's lives and create havoc out of nothing. How's that for an answer? I've got two of those people in my life. One is a constant in my job, where I've worked for the past 10 years. Unfortunately she's the person I work with the most closely on a daily basis. Out of necessity (for the sake of my sanity) I've figured out how to handle most situations with her, but I often watch other co-workers struggling and that's infuriating.

Just as difficult, though, is the fact that the other meddler is my stepdaughter's mother and my husband's ex-wife, who isn't in our lives very often but somehow worms her way in on occasion and turns everything on its head. The ex is currently affecting her daughter's relationship with us. The problem is that my stepdaughter, age 30, and her fiance live with the ex and occasionally buy into her nonsense. So at the present time, the ex is focusing on us and wielding her considerable influence over her daughter by making mountains out of molehills. One by one, she's zeroing in on all four of us. My turn was yesterday.

Logically I know that someone can only meddle in your life if you LET them. I don't have any control from the standpoint of my stepdaughter's relationship with mommy dearest. But once again, I'm looking for the hole in the dike where she's weaseling her way into OUR lives. And this time, instead of just putting my finger in and hoping for the best, I'm struggling to make more lasting repairs.

What do you know about love?

Love is my husband assuring me he likes me with short hair.

Love is a picture hanging on my office bulletin board for about 10 years of a hand-drawn flower and the words: “To Mommy, From Michelle. Have a good day at work! I Love You!”

Love is stopping to see my mother every day after work even when I’m tired and all I want to do is go home and kick my shoes off.

Love is my husband painting my daughter’s bathroom because her husband is busy working on his mother’s house.

Love is watching my daughter’s belly get bigger each passing week as I wait to meet my first grandchild.

Love is worrying about my husband’s heart prescription running out before the refill gets here.

Love is seeing pictures of myself on my daughter’s blog with the words “my mother in the summer of the late 70s is pretty much exactly the same as i am today.”

Love is conquering my fear of riding on the back of my husband’s motorcycle because I know he wants me to spend the afternoon with him.

Love is pretending to be interested in hearing my mom tell the same story for the umpteenth time.

Love is making two different dinners because my husband loves a good hamburger and my daughter’s a vegetarian.

Love is my husband fixing the flat tire on my bike.

Love is lending my brand new tent to my daughter for 2 months before I even had the chance to use it. And love is my husband cleaning that tent for me when she brought it back.

Love is overhearing my mother tell her friend that I am her rock.

Love sure isn’t easy, but love is rewarding. I can’t imagine life without it.

How important to you is 'self-esteem'?

The scenario:

I have a job interview. I walk into the room, head held high, exuding confidence because I’ve prepared myself well. Now that I’ve been selected for the interview and gotten in the doorway, I know that my potential employers would like to see me get the job and I’m about to prove them right. My handshake is firm, my smile contagious. We engage in a two-way dialogue as I make a lot of eye contact, and with every question asked of me, I pause for a moment or two, and reply with a thorough answer which shows that I’ve put some thought into the question.  I can give examples about successes in the jobs I’ve held and when asked about my failures, I have a couple of funny stories which show that I learned something in the process of failing. I ask pertinent questions which show I've done my homework on the company. As I exit the interview, I know that I’ve successfully put my best foot forward. A day later, I receive a phone call that the company is pleased to offer me the position.

Is this perfect example of self-esteem/self-confidence really me?  NO! I only wish it was! I would love to be able to handle an interview in this manner. No fumbling, no tentativeness, no loss for words, no nervous laughter. Just a calm assurance that I have the ability to handle the job, and I’m able to successfully convey that to my potential employers.

Yes, I think that high self-esteem opens doors and presents opportunities that would not be there otherwise. And it’s something I’m always struggling with in myself--a constant work in progress.

How important to you is “respect”?

The first thing that comes to mind is that great dance song by Aretha Franklin—”R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me….”  I have to say, respect is not something I think about too much and it’s a word I rarely use, probably because I’ve been lucky enough in life never to truly have felt DISRESPECT.

But when it comes down to it, I feel that everyone is born with the right to be respected. If that respect isn’t realized, it can cause self-esteem to plummet and severe emotional problems to develop down the road. I think a lot of people’s deep-seated problems can probably be traced to a deprivation of respect, especially when that respect is lacking from parents, other family members, perceived friends, or loved ones. Spousal abuse and child abuse stem from a lack of respect. So does bullying. Some suicides undoubtedly stem from a lack of respect. I've seen firsthand the impact of disrespect/abuse on a friend of 50+ years, as she struggles daily with self-esteem issues.

Confucius say (at least I think it was Confucius) that if you respect yourself, others will learn to respect you.  If you stand tall and are proud of yourself, your values, opinions and finally your actions will reflect that self-respect.

So what about career criminals, or the abusers and bullies in life? Yes, they are hard people to respect. And by their actions, they’ve lost their rights to many privileges that the rest of us take for granted. But if Confucius is right, it’s clear that these are people with no self-respect. Despite their choices, they should still be afforded the courtesy of a basic respect for their human rights. If that’s taken away, where does that leave the rest of us? It perpetuates an unending cycle, similar to the cycle of abuse that appears in families for generation after generation.

And, yep, I'm still humming Aretha's tune.

Name your favorite film of all time. What era does the film take place in? What else was happening in the world during the time frame of the film?

It’s hard to choose, and maybe it's on my mind due to my last blog, but I’d have to say The Wizard of Oz is my favorite. It’s full of childhood nostalgia for me, and it’s such a timeless, classic film--40 years later, my daughters loved the movie just as much as I did.

I don’t know anyone who isn’t familiar with all the characters and who can’t quote at least a couple of lines from the movie.  The phrases “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain” and “there’s no place like home” strike a familiar chord with almost everybody. After moving to the South, I’ve been known to joke, “Toto, I have a feeling we aren’t in Kansas anymore” on more than one occasion! Or when my daughters were acting up, I’ve playfully threatened, “Don’t make me call in the flying monkeys!”

Besides the unforgettable characters and lines, the music was catchy too. Of course, most people know the songs “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” and “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.” But in addition, I’ll always be able to hum the tune that played during the attack of the flying monkeys. Just hearing that music struck fear in my childhood heart!

Who can resist a film where the main characters receive gifts they so desperately need:  a brain, a heart,  courage, and finding a way to get home? And I swear, if I had my wedding to do over again, I’d definitely wear ruby slippers on my feet.

As for the film’s era, The Wizard of Oz was released in the late 1930s, at a time when the effects of the Great Depression were still lingering, and the Hindenberg, the Lindbergh baby, and Hitler’s rise to power were all in the news--a stressful era indeed. Perhaps this is why the entertaining fantasy of The Wizard of Oz provided such a delightful escape and held so much appeal.

There is a hole in the wall. You look through it. What do you see?

I am reminded of that scene in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy first steps onto the Yellow Brick Road and everything turns from black and white into color. Only in my case, when I look through the hole in the wall everything turns from its normal color into brilliant hues. It’s as if all my senses are heightened. Colors are more vivid, smells are more intense, sounds more crisp and clear.

I’m looking into a living room where a party is going on. The music is thumping, the smell of popcorn is in the air, and there are lots of smiles and chatter. Everyone knows one another, and at first nobody seems to notice that I am watching, all alone, from the hole in the wall.

Suddenly above the din, I hear my name being called repeatedly. But instead of “Sharon” it’s “Sher.” It’s a familiar voice. Only my dad ever called me that nickname. I turn my head, scanning the people in the room. How could this be possible? My eyes light on a big blue couch up against one wall of the room, and sure enough, there sits my dad, watching me. He has a big grin on his face and his right hand pats the empty spot beside him on the couch, as if to say, “Come and join me.”  He looks exactly like he did the last 10 years of his life.

I can’t believe my eyes and my heart is pounding, but I hurry over to join him and give him a big hug.

This is actually a wonderful dream I had one night, except the hole in the wall was the front door of a home. After my dad died in 2002, a friend of mine told me that if I experienced the same thing she had, someday I would have a happy dream about my dad which would make me feel at peace. In the words of Henry Scott Holland, “Death is nothing at all. I am I and you are you, and whatever we were to each other, that we still are. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am waiting for you somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.”

What is your favorite film genre? Why?

This is actually a hard question for me to answer because I’m definitely not any sort of a movie buff. I’m really picky about the movies I like. Could “chick flicks” be considered a genre? Ha! Actually, I really don’t like all chick flicks either. I don’t mind the drama and emotion, but some are just too ditzy and fluffy… i.e., give me Terms of Endearment over Legally Blonde any day!

Hmmmm…..

Westerns: boooring!

Comedies:  I like some of them, but slapstick is definitely not my thing (I’m thinking in the vein of the Airplane movies, and Something About Mary). Jim Carey, Russell Brand, and Robin Williams do nothing for me. Even the old, classic slapstick routines are hard for me to tolerate; i.e. The Marx Brothers and The Three Stooges. I know, I know—I’m practically un-American!

Action/Adventure films:  I never cared for any of the Arnold Schwarzenegger movies, or the Chuck Norris/Bruce Lee flicks; too much violence for my taste. I think the only time I really like this type of film is when there’s a good chemistry going between the male and female leads. For example, I really enjoyed Harrison Ford and Karen Allen in Raiders of the Lost Ark, and likewise with Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone.

Horror movies cause me way too much anxiety and stress and who need that when you're watching a movie? And besides, after leaving those types of flicks I find myself looking over my shoulder way too much. When I saw The Exorcist with my college boyfriend back in the ‘70s, I couldn’t sleep that night.

Fantasy/sci fi flicks:  I tend to enjoy films that are more reality based, so this genre really doesn’t appeal to me too much either, with the exception of the Harry Potter movies. I did enjoy watching those, maybe because the character development was generally very good in them. Plus my youngest daughter Julie adores these movies and can quote from them, so I enjoy watching her enjoyment!

Musicals:  The story line can be really good in musicals but then those moments are usually ruined for me when the characters break out in song!  I have to stifle an overwhelming urge to giggle. Reality just isn’t like that, and it makes me laugh to see it. Although when I was a kid, I did enjoy “Mary Poppins” and “The Sound of Music.”

The classics:  I’ve never explored these too much and I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never watched Casablanca, It’s a Wonderful Life, Roman Holiday, or An Affair to Remember all the way through. Maybe I would like them if I actually sat down and concentrated on watching them from beginning to end.

In thinking of my favorite movies, I’d have to say that I enjoy films based on a real story, such as Norma Rae, Titanic, and The Blind Side. Or fiction based on a historic era, such as Gone with the Wind and Cold Mountain during the Civil War, or Water for Elephants during the Depression.

And finally, give me a good romance any day. The list of my favorites includes The Notebook, Pretty Woman, Dirty Dancing, When Harry Met Sally, Officer and a Gentleman, and Summer of ’42. Or even a quirky/funny romance like Annie Hall can be found on my favorites list.

I could never be a movie critic. Nothing is more boring to me than sitting through a movie that I don’t like… and I’m picky enough that I don’t like a lot of them!