During my training yesterday on social media, one participant lamented they would rather folks just call them on the phone.
I joked "I really only use my phone for the Internet."
There's always truth in jest.
I'm not a phone person. There might be only 4 people I talk to on the telephone more than once a month. Two of them birthed me and say I'm legally obligated to ring them up.
Sidebar about that: My Mom and Dad get sad when I don't call every couple of days. However, even if I DO call, they say it doesn't count unless I talk to each of them. So if I call and speak to Mom on Monday and Dad on Wednesday; when I talk to Mom on Friday she charges that I haven't called since Monday. They became one in marriage 40 years ago, but they don't actually share very well.
I prefer email, text messages, Facebook wall posts, Twitter direct messages, and comments on my blog over calling me on the telephone.
When that ringtone starts, whether it's a classic bell or Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance with Somebody - I furrow my brow.
Can't we just write one another? It's so much quicker and more efficient.
This is the example I'm using in a social media workshop tomorrow to show my coworkers how to hide a Facebook update from a select group of friends.
I work at CAS.
Who thinks they'll have a sense of humor? Me too.
Tip to Share Before your next Facebook posting, click on the lock icon in the lower right corner and you'll see the options of Everyone, Friends and Networks, Friends of Friends, Only Friends, and Customize. The last one lets you specify people to share with or block individually.
I used to be one of those folks who had all kinds of drama inside my car. Empty food containers, mildewing soda cups, crumbs, unpaid parking tickets.
But then Antegeddon 2005 happened. I was driving down the road and suddenly the ants who'd taken up residence under the passenger seat had run out of crumbs. So they moved on to flesh.
They had to go.
But if you don't already know, ants are quite the squatters. Heck no, they won't go.
But they did. After a toxic combination of starvation, Aussie Instant Freeze and screeching - they moved out.
And I became a committed clean car person. No lost mascara, no uneaten waffle fries, and no missing change.
And If I happen to be tempted to have ants as carguests, then I simply replay this recent text conversation with my friend Patrick in my head. He is an INFAMOUS dirty car owner who once had an unidentified smell eventually sourced to a 2-week old cucumber.
Patrick: Guess what the carwash people found under my seat today?
Me: What?
Patrick: Two jars of mayo.
Me: You are crazy.
Patrick: I have a legitimate problem.
Me: Umm...I would think so.
Patrick: No. I missed jury duty. Probably going to get arrested.
Me: Okay. Yes. You actually have an even real-er problem than a dirty car.
Patrick: Exactly.
So are you a dirty car owner? What might we find if we peeped? {image: "Patrick in the Creeper Van" by Allison Peatross}
Each weekend, I post a readable, a watchable, and a listenable of which I'm fond. You can choose what happens next. Earlier volumes can be found here. Read I fell for David Sedaris after falling for his sister, Amy. They're both too funny. You can't go wrong with any of his books of essays, but When You Are Engulfed in Flames is one of the best. It includes chapters on using album covers to scare away birds, dead bodies, and moving to Japan to quit smoking. I love when crazy things happen to wonderful writers. Everyone wins.
Watch I've always had a hankering for fashion - although I wouldn't call myself fashionable. And you already know how I feel about magazines. So Vogue is much loved. I watched The September Issue this weekend and loved it just as much. It's a documentary about the making of Vogue's biggest annual issue and the reigning matriarch of fashion - Anna Wintour. It's the real-life Devil Wears Prada. And it's delicious.
Listen This is also sort of a "watch." I love Glee. LOVE IT. And you might love it too after watching The Power of Madonna episode. If you're still not sold, I'll stop peer pressuring you. Or calling you. Or possibly being friends with you. This eppy featured 7 original performances of some of my favorite Madge songs, including the most beloved"Like a Prayer."
This is a transcript of a conversation between me and my friend Patrick. He is renown for his great style, excellent taste in food, and his ability to spend money hand over fist.
Patrick: I got my tax refund so I'm going to buy an iPhone. Should I get the 16GB or 32GB?
Me: You should really think about waiting since the new iPhone leaked and may be out this summer. You'd just have to buy another one then. Patrick: I don't need a camera in the front and all that - I want to buy it today.
Me: But won't you feel bad when we're all sportin' the latest and greatest iPhone and you're stuck with a ghetto version?
Patrick: I already have the ghetto version of an iPhone. It's called a Blackberry.
"I believe we must depolarize and depoliticize environmentalism. Caring for creation should not be framed in a right-left dichotomy. Stewardship isn’t primarily a political, social or economic issue; it is a moral issue the people of God have been called to address. If we desire to remain true to God’s Word, Christians must redeem the cause and make it our own. We need to rediscover the scriptural basis for creation care, engage our planet’s daunting problems and propose solutions most Christians are comfortable with. To abandon these issues to secular environmentalists shirks our God-given responsibility to care for His planet." Jonathan Merritt, author of Green Like God: Unlocking the Divine Plan for Our Planet.
This has been a brief break for rabbit clarity that won't repeat very often.
However, the two groups are finding themselves strange bedfellows in one area of my life.
Facebook.
I have specific standards when it comes to FB. I won't generally be friends with someone unless I've actually laid eyes on you. At the very least you must prove you're a sister-from-another-mister through your own blog and comments here - Hi Caitlin.
But even those I've seen and heard are not always worthy of the newsfeed. So I hide them.
Sometimes "friends" force me to hide them because of their profane status updates or sketchy photographs.
Others are men of God who are just plain annoying.
If you're a minister, please let love be your guide. Not talking heads on 24-hour news networks.
I learned a laundry list of things while in Atlanta with the 1-year-old. Sneak peek of that list...
#3. When you parent a 1-year-old - you no longer get to watch television. My college roommate and her husband spend so much time parenting and loving and caring for little Isabella that television has moved to the end of the line.
Umm...who needs that?
The only thing repeated on my roomie's DVR was 16 and Pregnant.
I'm guessing a Mom in her thirties with several educational degrees prioritizes this television show over all others for the same reason I sometimes choose Wal-Mart over cleaner, less aggressive grocery stores.
It's the same reason you hope there's an uglier bridesmaid in the wedding party and a shorter, fatter kid on your dodgeball team.
Whatever it takes to boost our flailing self-esteems.
I'm headed out of town to see two fabulous things:
Isabella. She's turning one and I have the privilege of feeding her sugar and preservatives for the first time in the form of cupcakes. I'll be her new favorite or she'll vomit.
Ikea. I've saved my pennies so drivers will stare at my new armoire riding on the top of my Altima.
I plan to Twitter the more valuable moments - so chase rabbits with me there.
We happened to be sharing the same library space - our eyes met and a scrapbook moment was born.
This is the type of nugget getting kissed in Alabama right about now because 11 folks are running for governor. A dermatologist, a construction sales rep, an inventor, a financial analyst, and other experts in irrelevant fields.
And each of them has raided the couch cushions for just enough money to put ridiculous ads on TV. And most begin with "I'm the son of a humble {blue collar profession.}
What do you do if you're the child of a mystery shopper or rodeo clown or fortune cookie writer?
Hobbies of any kind are boring except to people who have the same hobby. This is also true of religion, although you will not find me saying so in print.Dave Barry
This was not true of the hundreds of hobbies you shared in my most recent giveaway. Many of us share a love for reading and photography and baking. Notice my above attempt at a Pickles & Ice Cream cupcakepalooza.
Some of you are gardeners. I'd like to pay you to come to my house and make my grass be less suicidal.
Some of you are scrapbookers. I'd like you to take my boxes of crap from college and make books that generate laughter and ugly crying.
Some of you are artists in the truest sense. And I have no real marketable skills.
Unless "procrastination" is marketable.
But alas, only one hobby is a random winner: Congrats to Tracey who said...I like reading or shopping for bargains.
TOMS shoes received a lot of press last week for One Day without Shoes which encouraged folks to go barefoot to raise awareness about the impact one pair of shoes can have on the life of a child. Particularly for those in Third World countries. When you buy a pair of TOMS shoes, they donate a pair.
This is a transcript of a recent telephone conversation between me and my friend Caryann who lives in California and works as a radio personality. No emphasis on personality.
Caryann: Have you heard of TOMS shoes?
Me: Yep.
Caryann: They're real big here. You know those kids probably don't even want shoes.
Me: Strangely enough, I'm going to go Republican and agree with you. We need to be getting them clean water and vaccinations, rather than shoes.
Caryann: My friend who did mission work in third world countries said when churches would bring them shoes that the kids would take them off as soon as they left.
Me: Plus, to be honest, TOMS shoes are ugly.
Caryann: Since you don't like them, I'll probably buy them. Plus, they're what everyone in the music industry wears.
Me: Well, that will mean you'll also need to start wearing v-necks and skinny jeans too. And we both know that second one's not happening.
Caryann: Well, you have to wear v-necks in order for them to fit over your big head.
Each weekend, I post a readable, a watchable, and a listenable of which I'm fond. You can choose what happens next. Earlier volumes can be found here.
Read
Jon Acuff already had a blog I love - Stuff Christians Like. It's great satire highlighting beloved Christian-ese things including "Using 'let me pray about it' as a synonym for 'no'" and "Drawing in the bulletin." As of this recommendation, Acuff is up to #746. And now he has a fabulous book of the same name. I encourage you to drop a few bucks on this hilarious read, but feel free to start with the FREE audio book like I did.
Watch
Dixie Carter, May 25, 1939 – April 10, 2010 Listen
I've mentioned before how much I love music on TV and in movies. If it's a big moment with a moving song, then I'm pausing and Googling lyrics on the spot to add it to my library. This happened during this week's Ugly Betty when this crazy great song began playing during Hilda and Bobby's wedding. I discovered it's Be My Onlyby FM Radio which BTW you can't buy. Ugh. But it did lead me to Schuyler Fisk who makes up 1/2 of the band. She's the daughter of actres Sissy Spacek which is a small footnote compared to her great music actually available for purchase. This song is Paperweight, a duet with Joshua Radin.
I devoured all the new details about the new iPhone OS 4.0 coming this summer. I'd like to bear hug Steve Jobs for new features like multi-tasking and folders that will hold my inordinate amount of card game apps.
And now is the time for you to own an iPhone. Or if you're my friend, Shawn - time to upgrade so you can snag all these new itreats. This is a transcript of our text conversation on Thursday.
Me: You need to start saving your pennies so you can upgrade Iris (his decrepit iPhone.)Don't be jealous, own one.
Shawn: I'll probably wait until they come out with the next version later this year so you can be jealous of mine.
Guess who she is... Think...date in matching tux and small mammal on her head.
I really am quite fond of her.
That fondness has only increased now that she's joined me in the mid-thirties.
This means certain things: Your skin will forsake you. It will now crease and sag and splotch in ways you couldn't have imagined. And yet, you'll still have acne comparable to that of a 14-year-old rubbing peanut oil on her face.
Men will forsake you. Up until now, men your age would date you. No more. They are now dating women 5-10 years younger. And that gap will only continue to grow. So now, start looking for single Dads at high school graduations.
Your diet will forsake you. Remember when you could eat 4 slices of meat-lovers pizza, chase it with a milkshake and still be ready for bathing suit season? Now, you can down that same meal, but you'll need to chase it with Tums, a nap and an elastic waistband.
There is a bright side.
You're better at some things:
Managing money.
Thinking before speaking.
Driving.
Going with the flow.
Not wearing words on your bottom.
Maybe.
Plus, at my church - you're still grouped with the "cool people." Of course, if you're not married or don't have children, the feeling of failure is swift
These potter hands actually belong to Tena Payne, the owner of Cahaba Clayworks.
Their artists manage to fight the instinct of every blob of clay.
Which is to become an ashtray.
Then they throw on some paint and some glaze and call it a productive day.
Details include handstamping.
And adding feet. They're like little Ewok feet.
Yes, I run like an Ewok. And I'm a master potter.
Because of these two relative truths, I'm giving away the lovely piece of pottery above. And enough Barnes & Noble moolah to buy a sassy book to keep it company - $20.
Good? Good.
How To Enter Leave a comment answering the question: What's your favorite hobby?
**2 Extra Credit Entries** Each of the following will give you one extra entry in the giveaway. Please make sure to leave a separate comment for each thing you do!
1. Be a fan of Jamie's Rabbits on Facebook. 2. Be a follower of potter Tena Payne on Twitter.
**You can accomplish both of these tasks by clicking on the links.**
Important Details: I love all countries, but this contest is limited to those living in the US. Must enter before 11:59pm CST on Monday, April 12 to qualify. Winner will be chosen randomly using Research Randomizer and announced on Tuesday, April 13. The pottery will be mailed and the gift certificate will be emailed. Obviously, anonymous folks can't win unless they leave a name/email in the comment. The pottery was generously donated by Tena Payne and Barnes & Noble doesn't even know me.
While driving, I encountered this: This is not my church.
Two reasons: 1. Crosses shouldn't have tails. 2. Singing should always be an option.
I threw a little shindig in honor of Good Friday. No better party guests than meat and photobomb fanatics.
But we must keep our eye on the prize.
Jesus.
And eggs.
When you don't have one of those things in your life or in your basket - the grumps follow fast.
Easter Sunday is meant for celebration and matching outfits. Since I didn't have a hubby or child to dress up in Easter jeans to match my own, I captured my second favorite family - the Kinnairds. This was the after.
This was the before and before that and slightly before that.
Easter portraits are really overrated.
Unless they include a great weekend wrap-up scene like this one on the family farmstead.
Thanks Mom for the UpFromTheGraveHeArose Mac-N-Cheese. And the nap. How was your Easter?
While at a Maunday Thursday service tonight at my church, Joseph - the minister said "God picked the perfect Lamb for us. His blood is on the doorpost of our lives."
Good stuff.
Another great writer, C.S. Lewis, said "There is a stage in a child’s life at which it cannot separate the religious from the merely festal character of Christmas or Easter. I have been told of a very small and very devout boy who was heard murmuring to himself on Easter morning a poem of his own composition which began ‘Chocolate eggs and Jesus risen.’ This seems to me, for his age, both admirable poetry and admirable piety. But of course the time will soon come when such a child can no longer effortlessly and spontaneously enjoy that unity. He will become able to distinguish the spiritual from the ritual and festal aspect of Easter; chocolate eggs will no longer seem sacramental. And once he has distinguished he must put one or the other first. If he puts the spiritual first, he can still taste something of Easter in the chocolate eggs; if he puts the eggs first, they will soon be no more than any other sweetmeat. They will have taken on an independent, and therefore a soon withering, life.”
I need three days of quiet to see which one I'm putting first.
