26 Acts of Kindness, #8

I know it's been a while since I've updated with a random act of kindness. I have not forgotten about this at all. It's honestly a little hard to think of ideas. I've been looking on different websites for ideas and I hope to be able to get back to this with a vengeance! I managed number 8 this week though. For a recap, you can use the links below.

26 Acts of Kindness
26 Acts of Kindness, #2
26 Acts of Kindness, #3
26 Acts of Kindness, #4
26 Acts of Kindness, #5
26 Acts of Kindness, #6
26 Acts of Kindness, #7

I've talked before about how generous my parents are and how great they are in general. I wrote about them in this entry.  In addition to everything else they do for us, my mom does something else that I don't think I mentioned. She has a house cleaner that comes to her house every Wednesday, but with just her and my dad there, and my dad down in Carmel for a few nights every week to play golf, they really don't need Isabel every single week. But my mom has had her for years and it's clear that Isabel really counts on the money. In fact, there have been times when Isabel has approached my mom and asked if she would be able to front her the money for the following week's cleaning in advance. She's told my mom that she's the only one she'd feel comfortable asking this of, and my mom knows that Isabel isn't going to run off with the money, so she always helps her when she can. Isabel and her helper are sweet ladies. Because my mom knows that Isabel counts on the weekly work, instead of cutting her back, my mom just sends her to clean my house instead of hers once a month or so. My house is quite a bit smaller than my mom's, but she still pays Isabel the same amount that she gets for cleaning my mom's house. (Although, I can assure you that while my mom's house is bigger, mine is surely a lot dirtier. So Isabel definitely earns every penny.) I usually get the house ready on Wednesday morning after I drop the kids at school, and as soon as Isabel and her helper arrive, I leave to teach my class at the gym. This Wednesday morning I ran out to my car, grabbed my wallet and took a two twenty dollar bills back inside - one for Isabel and one for her helper. (I don't know the girl's name - she's kind of new and I still need to ask.) Anyway, nothing big, but I'm sure the unexpected tip was a pleasant surprise to both of them.  And on to the next one.....hopefully it won't be so long until my next update. 8 down, 18 to go!

Slim Goodbonnie?

Okay, who is ready for a weird Twilight Zone moment? On Thursday night, Eric took our friend Bill to the Sharks game. So my friend Alicia (Bill's wife) and I decided to take the kids out for a bite to eat while the guys were gone. We went to this place in Danville called Pete's Brass Rail. There were five of us, and Thursday nights are busy, so we had to stand in the little lobby area of the restaurant to wait for a table. When you go to this place, they pass out little coloring pages with an outline of "Pete's" face. You can then add your own flair to the picture and turn Pete into whoever you want. They have some of the best ones framed and hanging on the walls all over the restaurant. There's a Yoda Pete, a Monster's Inc. Pete, a Mr. Potato Head Pete, just to name a few. Here's the basic outline of Pete.....

So as we stood there waiting for our name to be called, my friend pointed out one of the framed photos of Pete hanging on the wall. It was as if he had no skin and all of the muscles on his face were exposed. It was kind of gross. As we stared at it, I said, "It reminds me of that guy who used to be on Captain Kangaroo. Slim Goodbody - remember him?" Alicia said, "Yes! I do! I used to like Slim Goodbody!" We were laughing, and I said, "I did, too! He used to sing songs and stuff! I learned a lot from him!" The two of us stood there giggling and reminiscing over Slim Goodbody for a few minutes. We have a habit of texting each other funny pictures randomly throughout the day, so I did a Google Image search of Slim Goodbody. I nudged Alicia and we stood there flipping through images of Mr. Goodbody on my phone. We got a chuckle out of it, and then she turned to talk to one of the kids. I continued to browse the images and all at once this one popped up. 

 I started laughing and showed it to Alicia. It was one of those random WTF moments that we both live for. So we're laughing and saying, "Oh my gosh, remember her? Remember that show?" We both remembered it, but we couldn't remember the name of it. She said, "With Schneider - the handyman guy." And I said, "Yes! And with Valerie Bertinelli and oh! And Mackenzie Phillips! Remember? We both read her book - the gross one about how she and her dad had sex for years?!" We both groaned, "Ew! Yes! Yuck! But what was that show called?" We were racking our brains, and I was certain that the people around us were probably listening to us because we were laughing and in such close quarters with everyone else who was waiting to be seated. I looked to my left, and there was a man sitting alone on a bench. He looked to be about my age, maybe a few years older than me. Never one to know any boundaries when it comes to including people in my conversations, I leaned toward him and said, "Hey! Remember that show....from years ago....with Bonnie Franklin and Valerie Bertinelli and Mackenzie Phillips? And that guy Schneider, the superintendent?" The guy looked at me blankly, and said, "I have no idea." I said, "Oh yes you do! You definitely do! I know you would know what we were talking about! I just can't think of the name! They lived in an apartment building, and....." The guy continued to look at me like I was crazy. Just then, there was a group of people walking out the door, and a split second before the door closed behind them, someone grabbed it from outside and whipped it back open. A lady stuck her head back inside and called out, "One Day at a Time!" Alicia and I did little fist pumps of victory and said, "Yes! That's it! Thank you!"  Just then our table was called. (The people in the lobby probably pooled their money to get us a table ASAP so we'd get our silly, giggling selves out of their faces.) 

After the hostess led us to our table, we got the kids settled and then sat down. Figuring out what to order took over our thoughts,  and Slim Goodbody and Bonnie Franklin's head were all but forgotten for the moment. But I knew that I'd be randomly texting that weird picture to Alicia in the weeks to come, just for a laugh.  We enjoyed our dinners and each went home to finish up the end of the week bedtime routines - homework, showers, etc. 

Friday morning rolled around and it was talent show time. I dropped the kids at school, stopped by McDonalds for a nice, big Diet Coke and then went back to the school to help Emily get ready for the morning show. My mom and dad came to watch and we were consumed with talent show stuff until about 11am.  Once finished, I headed home where I turned on my laptop and checked Facebook. You can imagine my shock when I saw so many people posting about how sad they were to hear the news of Bonnie Franklin's passing. Of course, I was also sad to hear the news. It's tragic anytime someone's life is cut short by cancer.  But....um, what in the world???  I haven't uttered the name Bonnie Franklin in probably thirty years and out of nowhere a picture of her popped  up on my phone last night, just hours before she died?  Very strange, no doubt about it. 

RIP Bonnie Franklin.  (January 6, 1944 - March 1, 2013)

PS Slim Goodbody is alive and well, living in Maine, with his wife, Chrissy Goodbody.  

 

26 acts of kindness, #7

For a recap, you can click on the links below.

26 Acts of Kindness
26 Acts of Kindness, #2
26 Acts of Kindness, #3

26 Acts of Kindness, #4
26 Acts of Kindness, #5
26 Acts of Kindness, #6

Today's entry is going to be quite short. But I don't want you to think I'm forgetting about my commitment to this idea. Sometimes I feel the need to write a long, touching story, and honestly I don't always have one. But to stay on track, here is #7.

Our school principal is pregnant with her first baby. She is a really nice lady - she's new this year at the school, so I don't know her very well, but I'm sure as time goes by I'll get to know her more. (And let's be real, sometimes it's not so bad if you're not on a close-up and personal level with the principal. It means that I haven't been called into any meetings because of my kids' behavior - yet!) Anyway, she seems to be very excited about the baby on the way, and I know the kids are, too. So on Tuesday I ran to the store and picked up several cute little baby outfits for her. I had them wrapped and signed a card from the Ford family. I dropped it in the office as I went to pick up my kids. Probably not something I normally would have done if I wasn't trying to think of things to make people smile. So that is random act #7 of these 26 acts of kindness. And the quest continues......

26 acts of kindness, #6

For a recap, here are the links to the first few entries...

26 Acts of Kindness
26 Acts of Kindness, #2
26 Acts of Kindness, #3
26 Acts of Kindness, #4
26 Acts of Kindness, #5

Just when you think I've given up on my decision to do 26 acts of kindness, I come back with another entry. It takes me some time to think through the things I'm choosing to do. I did one yesterday and I'll write more about that in a minute. First though, I want to talk about some other random acts that I learned of that came from an unexpected place. They were done by none other than my husband. I think if you're a regular reader of my blog, you already know that my husband is a gem. He really is. He's thoughtful and kind and very giving. He's also really smart and good at everything he does -except singing - he's not a great singer. I think we thought of one more thing he wasn't good at once, but I can't remember right now. That's how good he is at everything! Anyway, he's a great guy, but as I mentioned in my first post, he's not as overly sensitive as I am. He doesn't let his heart make decisions for him. Which is a good thing. I have found myself in some unfortunate situations because I tend to let my heart do my thinking for me sometimes. Eric is more level-headed. He supports my idea of trying to do 26 acts of kindness, but he hasn't taken it up as his crusade either; he's just kind of letting it be my thing. 

So I was really surprised and so proud of him when he sent me a text last week that said, "I bought a homeless lady her lunch." I replied with, "You did??? That's nice!" He said that he saw her begging for money outside a KFC so he stopped and asked her if she'd eaten lately. She said no, so he said come on, let's go get some lunch. He let her order whatever she wanted, and then he paid for it and gave her the change ($5.00). I was so proud of him for that. I feel like this idea is rubbing off on him a little because that is not anything I've ever known him to do. I posted about it on Facebook that night and got so many "likes" - I hope it made him feel good to know that so many people got to see what a good thing he did. He also did another really nice random thing on Friday. We were down in Palm Springs for the night, enjoying a date night at the bar in our hotel. We stayed at the JW Marriott - it's a really nice resort that's built on a lake. There are little gondolas that travel all around the hotel and you can take them to the various restaurants on the property. We were just there for the night and we have never stayed there before so we decided to just stay on site and explore the hotel. Unfortunately it was pouring rain that night, so we didn't get to ride around in any gondolas, but we did find a fun bar that had a live musician. There was a good crowd in there and everyone seemed to be really happy and jovial. We sat down at a high table and ordered an appetizer and some drinks. There was an older couple sitting just at the other end of the table from us and I started chatting with the woman. I asked her where they were from and was surprised when she said Discovery Bay. (That's only about thirty minutes from where we live.) I told her that we lived in Danville, and she said that she and her husband had lived in Danville for years - it was where they purchased their first home and where they had raised their daughter. Her husband was talking with another couple and we couldn't really hear their conversation because of the noise level in the bar. I had asked Eric to get some cash for the musician because he was taking requests and I wanted to request a song, so he got up and went to the bar while I continued to talk to the lady across from me. He came back to the table carrying a glass of red wine (her glass of red wine was almost empty). He set it in front of her and said, "This is for you." He had asked her waitress what she was drinking and bought her another glass at the bar. She seemed really surprised, but so happy with his gesture. I was even surprised. We continued talking to her for a few minutes and then she went back to the conversation with her husband, and Eric and I headed into the restaurant for some dinner. Both of those things were really nice of him, but a little unexpected, and I'm just so proud of him for doing them. Maybe some of my ideas are rubbing off on him. 

So as usual, I was kind of stuck on what to do as my next act. I think I'm being too picky - if I'm having this much trouble coming up with six of them, how in the world am I going to think of twenty more? I need to stop thinking so hard about them and just do them. This one involves my parents. I am so fortunate to have the parents that I have. They really are the best. I've never respected anyone more than I do my mom and dad. I honestly don't even know where to begin.

I'll start with my dad. My dad is old school. He has the best work ethic of anyone I've ever encountered. He started working for Safeway as a meat cutter when he was eighteen years old, and enjoyed a career with Safeway that spanned almost forty years. By the time my dad retired from Safeway he was the Senior Vice President and Director of Marketing. Because of his jobs with Safeway, we moved around a lot when I was growing up. Two years in Maryland, three years in Little Rock, a year and a half in Dallas, and so on. My dad was a family man, but he was also a force to be reckoned with. My mom used to joke that when I was little, if I was ever acting up and she told my dad, that all he'd have to do was shake his finger at me and I'd stop whatever it was that I was doing and start to cry. That's the kind of power he had. I never doubted his love for us, but he held us to standards that I was not about to ever question either. He was so well liked and respected in the business world, too. We could see it when we'd go to his office or even when we'd shop for groceries at our neighborhood Safeway. He was tough, but he was fair. In business and in his home life. My dad taught me so much - and not just by the things that he said to me, but also just by example. Once, in my early twenties when I'd moved back home with my parents and was working in one of my first "corporate" environments, I'd mentioned being late to work a few times. I was complaining about how early I had to get up. My dad asked me how many times I'd been late. I said, "I don't know. A few." He said, "If you worked for me, I would have fired you after the third time. There is no excuse to be late for work. What kind of message does that send to your boss if you can't arrive on time? How seriously do you expect him to take you when you're showing up late?" At the time I probably inwardly rolled my eyes, but guess what? His words stuck with me. That was twenty years ago and I still think about that. He was right. It sounds extreme, but I wish there were more people in this world, especially nowadays, with my dad's work ethic. I never remember him calling in sick in his life. He worked hard and he earned the respect that he received. Even today, I might run into someone who knew my dad back in his Safeway days, and I can literally see the respect in their eyes when they talk about him. My dad taught me to never pay bills late. He taught me to take good care of my cars - to wash them regularly, to vacuum them, and make sure to get the oil changed every 5,000 miles. Not every 3,000 like the Oil Changers people like to suggest because that's just a ploy for more business. He taught me that even if you have a lot of money, you don't need to act like you do. My dad made a lot of money with Safeway and he's very smart with it, but you'd really never know it by looking at him. There's nothing flashy about him. He's always been interested in real estate and often checks out open homes in the area. One afternoon, after doing some woodworking in his shop next to his house, he stopped into an open house in the neighborhood up the hill from where my parents live. He probably had on jeans and a flannel shirt of some sort with a baseball cap sporting the name of a golf course somewhere. There were probably a few wood shavings on his shoulders or his jacket. The real estate agent looked him up and down and said, "I'm not sure you're in the right neighborhood to be looking at a house - are you sure you can afford a house in this neighborhood.?" When my dad mentioned this to us at the dinner table that night, I went ballistic. "Oh my gosh, what did you say? Did you tell her that you could buy all the houses on the street? Did you tell her who you are? Did you....." I was all fired up. My dad was calm. He kind of shrugged and shook his head and just said, "Nah. She's an idiot. What difference does it make? She's the one who looks stupid. I just told her that I was sure that I was in the right neighborhood and I walked into the house to look at it."

My dad is one of those people who is just comfortable with who he is. When Mark McGwire was playing for the A's and having that stellar year in 1998, when he and Sammy Sosa were both vying for the single season homerun record, McGwire was building a mansion in our area. It was a sight to see, and my dad would drive by it once in a while just to check it out. One afternoon he drove beyond the "No Tresspassing" sign and down the driveway to see the progress on the house. A man approached the car and did not look happy. My dad rolled his window down. The man was Mark McGwire. "Hey there," my dad said. McGwire said, "What are you doing?" My dad gestured at the house, "I was just looking at the progress on your place here. I live nearby. It's looking great." McGwire said, "Who are you?" My dad, completely unaffected answered him, "I'm Burr Schinner." As if that was all he needed to say. I love it! Every time I think of this story I just laugh and shake my head. Clearly my dad was trespassing, but really, the house was still under construction - it wasn't a big deal. This was also fifteen years ago - things were just different then. Anyway, Burr Schinner or not, McGwire wasn't having it. He yelled at my dad to get the heck out of there. And so he did. He turned the car around and left, no problem. He'd seen what he went there to see. It didn't bother him one bit. My mom, meanwhile was in the passenger seat trying to disappear. Things like that just don't bother my dad though. 

When we bought the house that we live in right now, it needed to be gutted. It was in horrible shape. To try to stay within a budget, we decided to do a lot of the work ourselves. My dad took this project on as his own. For three months straight he was over here from 6am-6pm. Hundreds of trips to Home Depot and more hours than we can count later, our house was completely redone and Eric and I have him to thank. Eric and I worked on it too, but my dad was the one cutting baseboards and nailing them in with his nail gun. He was painting walls and mixing up buckets of a solution to clean the plywood floors before we laid the new floors. He was the one installing new light switches and electrical outlets. He was wiring light fixtures and hanging mirrors in bathrooms. He was tireless. And not to mention that he was 69 years old at the time. 

He's kind of a man of few words, but we all know his love for us. When various members of our extended family have needed help financially, my dad has been there to help them. I recall him buying brand new cars for more than a few of our family members who really needed one but didn't have the means to pay for one. And he doesn't expect anything in return for it. 

Because my siblings are spread all over the country (Florida, California, Arkansas, and Virginia) it's not often that we can all be together at the same time. So, starting about fifteen years ago, every few years my dad rents a huge house on the ocean in North Carolina and treats us all to a wonderful vacation. All we have to do is show up. The memories we have created on those trips are absolutely priceless. He's a good man and I'm so lucky to have him as my dad. 

Now let's talk about my mom. For everything warm and fuzzy that my dad might not be, my mom is. I can't remember a time when my mom wasn't kind and caring. Growing up, my mom was always willing to shuttle me and my friends back and forth to wherever we wanted to go. To the mall, to the movies, back and forth between all our houses. I remember once thinking, "Why doesn't anyone else's mom drive us?" I'm not sure why - I just know that my mom was always willing to do it. She was understanding and compassionate when we'd move over and over again, knowing that it was hard for me to make friends and just as I'd developed a set of friends, we were yanked away to a brand new place. We landed back in Maryland for my junior year of high school, but the summer after I finished that grade, my dad got transferred to California. It was the big move - he was headed to the corporate office of Safeway. My mom finally said, "Enough is enough." She didn't want to make me move away from my friends just for my senior year. So my dad went off to California and rented a furnished apartment near his office so that my mom and I could stay in our house for my entire senior year. They managed to sell our house in Maryland just as I was graduating and have our new house in California ready a few weeks later. At the time, so wrapped up in my own selfish teenage concerns of not wanting to move to California, I didn't appreciate the careful time management and sacrifice that went into all that. But my parents did it willingly and without making me feel guilty or responsible for any hardships that it might have caused for them. When we left Maryland, I left behind a boyfriend and thought it was just the end of the world that I was moving away, so they made me a deal. If, after one year in California, I still hated it, I could move back to Maryland for college. I hung on to that idea for month after month of trying to find my way while 3,000 miles from "home." I bought a map of the US and I calculated my route across the country. I had images of me driving my little Nissan Sentra back to Maryland and everything that was familiar to me. I spent a lot of time crying in my room and pining for my old friends, but my parents held fast. I went to college here, I got a part time job, and slowly but surely, I began to find my place here. And by the time that year came up, I didn't want to leave anymore. My parents just get it. They really do. They know when to be hard and firm, and they know when I needed a little room to grow and learn my own way. As a mother, my mom has always been supportive and so good to me. When I was pregnant with Owen, and Eric and I were living in Utah, I was put on bed rest about six months into the pregnancy because of complications. I can't tell you how many times my mom and dad drove that miserable 12 hour drive through the Nevada desert to spend time with me and Eric. My dad and Eric got the baby's room ready, and my mom brought me books to read and movies to watch. I'd cry every time they'd leave to go back to California. 

And everything my mom is as a parent, she's that and more as a grandmother. She loves her grandkids like nobody's business! She's just as involved in their lives as Eric and me. But never in an intrusive way. You'll see her at the school picking up just as often as you'll see me. She takes Owen to his hockey lessons every Wednesday. She picks Emily up and takes her to talent show rehearsal, making sure to have the right outfit for her. She has them over almost every Friday night for a sleepover, and returns their suitcase full of clothes that have been washed and folded and are ready to put back in the closet. And she plays with them. I'll call over there to check in on a Saturday and she'll say, "Well we just got back from the tennis courts, now we're riding bikes, and then they want to jump on the trampoline. I'll bring them home in a few hours. Is it okay if we stop for some frozen yogurt on the way home?" When we would drive to Palm Springs to visit Eric's dad and step mom, she'd bring her car over for us to take because it has a built in DVD player. She'd have the gas tank full when she dropped it off and the CD case loaded with movies for the kids to watch on the long drive. When I had my surgery, and was confined to a recliner for weeks, she was here daily, doing laundry, cooking meals and just taking care of the things I couldn't take care of. When Owen was newly potty trained, my mom brought over some new clothes for him. She said, "I got you some new underwear, Owen. The same kind as Daddy wears." (Owen wants to be just like his father.) I looked at her and said, "How do you know what kind of underwear Eric wears?" And we both cracked up. Clearly, she knows because she's washed load upon load of laundry in my house. When we wanted to go to Maui for our tenth anniversary, there was never any question of what to do with the kids. We were able to leave knowing that Grandma had everything under control. She took care of everything for a week and never complained once. And this past December, when we were able to take another trip to Hawaii and include the kids, she stayed here and held down the fort with all the animals. I told her she could just come over in the morning and at night and I'd have someone else help out in the middle of the day, but she couldn't stand the idea of our dogs being alone all night, so she brought her pillow and pajamas and slept here every night with them. She even took care of the rats, and that's saying a lot for her since she's terrified of them. (And by taking care of them, I mean, she stood across the room from their cage every day and called out to them, "Hi guys, I see you in there, and I'm sorry I'm too scared to touch you or pet you, but I see you, and your parents will be home soon!) She's probably the most giving person I've ever known, and that's the truth. 

I try to remember to thank my parents for the things they do for us, but I know that it often goes unsaid. They just do so much that even when we don't mean to, it's easy to take them for granted. So today, my act of kindness was to just remember them and all they do for their family. My mom loves gardening and plants and flowers so I stopped into a very cute local florist and I asked them to make a really nice basket for them. It had plants and flowers so that it would last a long time. And I know my mom will find a great spot for it and with her green thumb she'll probably be able to get it to last forever. I also picked out a nice card and wrote this: 

Mom and Dad,
I just want to say thank you for all you do for us. I think sometimes it goes unsaid, and I just want you both to know how much Eric and I appreciate you. I feel so lucky to have you as parents, and just in case I don't say it enough, thank you! We love you both. 
Love, Mickie, Eric and kids

My parents should be thanked every single day, but obviously that just doesn't happen, so I hope this little extra act of thanks made them happy.

26 acts of kindness, #5

It's been almost a week since my last entry. Sometimes I think I'm thinking too hard about what I might want these acts to be. Throughout the week, there have been several things that have happened that I suppose I could count as an act of kindness. On Monday night we went to Chili's for dinner and as we were looking at the menu, we heard a loud voice yell out across the room, "That's well-done! I asked for medium-rare!" We (along with everyone else in the room) looked up and saw Honey Boo Boo Child's mom sitting just two booths away, looking at the poor waitress in disgust. "Look at this!" she yelled. "That is well-done!" The waitress apologized and, looking a little flustered, walked back toward the kitchen with the plate containing the steak in her hand. Honey Boo Boo's mom made eye contact with me and gave me a look as if she was daring me to react. I didn't want to mess with that woman, so I looked back down at my menu and tried to ignore her. The place was getting really crowded at that point and all of the waitstaff were running around trying to keep up. We ordered our food, and our drinks arrived, then my salad came, and things progressed as usual. Honey Boo Boo's mom was right in my line of vision, and she kept staring at me. She would have to crane her neck past the man at the booth in between us to see me, but every time I looked up, she was shooting daggers at me. I told Eric that she was staring at me, and he started to pay attention. "Whoa, she is!" he said. "What's that all about?" I said, "Who knows? Maybe she's jealous that I have food and she doesn't." I was just finishing my salad when I saw the waitress come out of the kitchen and approach Honey Boo Boo's mom with a new steak. Mind you, because the place was so crowded, and according to our waiter, the kitchen was backed up, things were coming out slower than usual. So a good fifteen minutes had passed between the first steak going back to the kitchen and the second one coming out. The waitress set it on the table, and I could hear her apologizing for the delay when she was cut off. Honey Boo Boo's mom screamed, "That's not medium rare either! That one is well done, too!"  The waitress looked at her in disbelief. "It shouldn't be," she began. But she was cut off again, "Look! It's well-done!" The waitress began to say more, but there was no point. "Send it back!" Honey Boo Boo's mom yelled. "I'm not eating a well-done steak!" Everyone in the room was listening by then. Eric looked at me shaking his head, and said, "Why is someone ordering a steak at Chili's to begin with? Chili's isn't really somewhere you go when you say, 'I'm really craving a great steak! I know, I'm gonna go to Chili's!'" I said, "Yeah, I know. The poor waitress. That woman is nasty!"  The waitress passed by us with bright red cheeks as she carried yet another plate back to the kitchen. I felt really bad for her. It wasn't her fault, yet she was dealing with the wrath of this angry, mean lady. Eric made one more comment that made me almost spit out my drink laughing, but since it's not of the warm and fuzzy variety that these blog entries are meant to be, I'll refrain from sharing. (As if me referring to this woman as Honey Boo Boo's mom is kind and considerate. It wasn't really Honey Boo Boo's mom, but it might as well have been - they looked -and acted -like twins.) Anyway, I guess the third steak was acceptable because I didn't hear anymore complaints out of the woman. She and her dining partner eventually got up and left, and as we were leaving, the waitress was standing with her knee resting on the seat of their booth, clearing the table. I stopped and touched her arm. "I just wanted to tell you that you did a great job of holding your cool with that woman." I laughed and said, "I'm not sure I'd have been as composed." Then Eric walked up and said, loudly, "Hey, how's the steak tonight?" The waitress laughed and said thank you. We went out to the car and I said, "I guess that could be a random act." Eric said, "What?" And I said, "Just trying to cheer that waitress up and brighten her night after dealing with that lady." Eric said, "Sure it could." I said, "You're just saying that because it didn't involve any money." We both laughed. But again - that was something I normally would have done, and as I've said before, I want these acts to be something I might not have normally done, so I decided not to count that one. 

Today I did do number five though. I found out yesterday that a friend had had a fairly major surgery two weeks ago. I was on my way home from the grocery store last night and  something made me think of her. I realized that I hadn't seen her at the gym in a couple of weeks, so I sent her a text telling her that I'd missed seeing her. She texted me back and told me that she'd had her surgery and was recovering. I felt terrible because I knew she was going to have the surgery, but I hadn't realized that she'd already had it. She said that she was feeling kind of down and that the recovery process had been very slow. I know firsthand how depressing it can be to be recovering from surgery and unable to do the things that you sometimes might have taken for granted. Something as simple as vacuuming your house or even walking the dog can be a major feat. We texted back and forth a little more, and planned for me to visit her next week and pick up some lunch for us on my way. But I also knew wanted to do something to brighten her day in the meantime, so today I stopped and picked up a cheery little flower arrangement for her and then stopped at my favorite bakery for some yummy treats. If you've never been to Nothing Bundt Cakes, I highly suggest you check it out. Their little bundt cakes are so good!  I got her a Get Well card and drove everything to her house and set it on her front porch. I pulled over down the street from her house and sent her a text telling her that there was a little surprise on her porch. She lives about thirty minutes from me, so about halfway home she texted me back. She said that she had sent her son to retrieve the stuff for her. She seemed so happy, she said that it made her day. Mission accomplished. Something so easy for me to do brightened her day, and that paid off twofold. It made her day, and hearing that news made mine.

 

26 acts of kindness, #4

I guess sometimes my posts will be anticlimactic. Like I said before, no matter how much I want them to, they all can't be huge, grand gestures. I'm not Oprah. Or Ellen Degeneres. I'm just me -a wife and mom trying to juggle normal everyday responsibilities. Will we have leftover chili and cornbread for dinner tonight, or should I make the chicken that's thawed in the fridge? Should I do that load of laundry right now, or clean up the leaves in the back yard instead? Why does the damn rat keep throwing the bedding out of her cage every night and leaving a mess for me to sweep up in the morning? And does that mean I should replace the fluffy bedding with the smaller, harder pieces? And where the hell is the alarm clock that is buried in one of the kids' rooms that keeps going off every four freaking hours? And so it goes. Oprah probably doesn't have to worry about that kind of BS. But it's the life I chose and I wouldn't change it for anything! And that's the truth.

I also don't have an unlimited income for this stuff. We've been very fortunate in that Eric's job is enough income to support us, so when I started teaching at the gym, we both kind of just decided that any income I made through teaching I could choose to spend however I wanted. Mad money, if you will. (You know the old funny saying, "What's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine?" I suppose that applies here!) While I don't earn very much, it's been nice to be able to cash my checks and put the money in an envelope to save up for a special occasion. It turns out that these acts are the special occasion. And that is just fine with me. But because I don't have unlimited resources, I'm also learning that joy and happiness can be found in very small acts of kindness. I know for a fact that if I were at the coffee shop and the clerk told me that the person in front of me had paid for my coffee, it would absolutely make my day. (Although we've already established that I don't drink coffee, so replace that with a fountain Diet Coke and we're set!) So I'm trying to tell myself that I really can be satisfied with doing some smaller things for people. I've always been the type of person who thinks that bigger is better. A surprise party for Eric's 40th? Well, sure we could just have everyone bring an appetizer, but what if we get it catered instead, and also hire a DJ and a photo booth? Making some cookies to pass out at Christmas time? Yeah, I guess I could just make them for my closest friends, but wouldn't it be even better to pass them out to all of my local friends? When you're already baking, what's another 75 dozen cookies to add? (By the way, local friends, I didn't bake cookies this year. Our trip to Hawaii interfered with my baking time. So you weren't cut from the list - hopefully you'll get your cookies again next year.) Josh Groban is touring? Why go to just one concert? Why not figure out how to hit as many as possible, even if it means flying to Seattle or Los Angeles, or both? Hopefully these very real examples paint a picture of my psyche just a little bit.

And if I'm doing 26 of these acts of kindness, I'm going to run out of ideas (and money) very quickly. So my goal for the next few acts is to just lay low. Do something that might surprise and brighten someone's day, but don't go overboard trying to make it bigger and better. It's harder than you might realize to think of ideas. I challenge you to try to think of a few. Even if you can't do 26 of them, imagine if everyone reading this just did one!

I did do the fourth one today. As you know, this idea came about in the aftermath of the shooting at Sandy Hook. So my kids' teachers have been featuring  heavily in my thoughts. We are lucky enough to live in what I really think of as the perfect little town. We are close to a big city, but we are in a nice suburban area where everyone helps everyone. Meal trains are set up when someone is sick or has a loss in their family. School fundraisers are the sole reason for some peoples' existence. Little League games or soccer games occupy most of the local parks every weekend. Our 4th of July parade is massively attended and a highlight of the year for many - not to mention our tree lighting ceremony downtown. It's a great little town, and in a way you feel like you're living in a bubble. But wait. Wasn't Newtown the same kind of town? And then you feel that punch in your gut. Yes, they were. They are. So if that kind of tragedy can happen there, why couldn't it happen here? And while you hope and pray with all your might that nothing like that ever happens here, there's that brand new tiny seed of worry in your mind. So if I'm feeling that while safe inside my home during the weekdays, you know that the teachers are feeling some of that as well. 

Without making a big spectacle or big deal out of it, I wanted to take a moment to thank the wonderful teachers at our school. Obviously I can't do something for every single one of them, so I chose to just do it for the ones who have taught my kids, specifically. Starting with the teacher they both had for kindergarten, and continuing through first, second, and third grades. I also thought of the office staff - the people that you see when you first walk through the door of the school every day. So, as I have before, I pulled out my trusty pack of thank-you cards, and I wrote one for each of these people. I thanked them for taking such good care of my kids; for being such great teachers and friends. I told them that I was grateful for them and just wanted to take a moment out of my day to let them know how much our family appreciates all they do for us. Then I went to Costco and got my favorite little flower arrangements for each of them. (They have the best little arrangements that sit in a low, square vase.) I get them quite often - they last a long time, and they're always really pretty. Of course, today, when I needed five of them, they weren't quite as nicely put together as I've seen them in the past. But what are you gonna do? They weren't perfect, but they were pretty enough. 

I attached the cards to each arrangement, and as I went to pick up the kids, I dropped them off at their respective rooms, starting with the office staff. I went inside and said to them, "I wish I could buy flowers for every single one of you guys, but since I can't, I hope you don't mind sharing. I just want to say thank you for all the hard work you do, and for taking care of my kids." They seemed so happy and really surprised. Then to the teacher they had for kindergarten, who I also consider a friend. She's obviously been reading my blog, because when she saw the flowers in my hand, she said, "Am I one of your 26 acts?" I kind of laughed and said, "Why yes you are!" She was also very appreciative. It was good to see her - life gets busy and you just don't get a chance to catch up with the people in your life often enough. After chatting with her for a bit, I made my way to the next classrooms. Unfortunately the teacher that both my kids had for first grade retired last year after teaching Emily's class. She's still in the area though, and I'm going to see if I can find out where she lives so I can drop an arrangement and card off for her as well. After that, it was off to the second grade teacher that Owen had last year. She was busy getting her students out the door, so I just handed her the arrangement with the card tucked into it, and said, "I know you're busy. We can chat later - these are just to say thanks." She seemed baffled because she isn't teaching either of my kids this year. But she taught my son last year, and that's reason enough to include her and thank her. And my last two stops were the teachers that my kids currently have. Emily's teacher was out at a meeting, so I just slipped into the room and left the flowers and card on her desk. I caught Owen's teacher by herself in her classroom and as I walked in, I announced, "This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my son is getting lazy with his handwriting and homework. It's not a bribe!" We both laughed at that, and when I told her what I was doing, she gave me a hard hug and thanked me. As I turned to leave, she hugged me again. I really feel like maybe she needed those flowers today. And that made me feel good. It was well worth every penny that came out of my "aerobics money" envelope today. 

We trust these teachers with our kids for over thirty hours a week. They, more than anyone else, deserve a thank you. If you get a chance, try to take a quick moment to thank the teachers in your life. It just might mean the world to them to hear it. 






26 acts of kindness, #1
26 acts of kindness, #2 
26 acts of kindness, #3

26 acts of kindness, #3

Since I've taken on the 26 acts of kindness as a goal of my own, I wanted to share with you a few comments that I've received from friends. I also want to take another minute to clarify once again that I cannot take credit for this movement. Ann Curry is the one who created this whole idea. I am just merely applying it to my own life. Last week after posting my first blog entry, I received a lot of really nice and positive comments about how my entry made people feel. I also had several people tell me about how they decided to also try to pay it forward by doing their own 26 acts of kindness. One friend wrote on my Facebook wall and told me that she did the first of her 26 acts and how good it felt. She had a friend who started a charity to raise money for new books for kids in low income schools in the county they live in - so the kid have books to take home and read whenever they want. She donated $26 to the charity in honor of the 26 victims. It really warmed my heart to hear that other people were taking this idea seriously. And while I know that there's a whole movement out there working on the 26 acts, there's just something special about seeing people in your own little world making the efforts as well. The same girl also messaged me a few nights later telling me about her second act - she and her husband were out on a date night and had stopped at a Starbucks before hitting a movie. Because there was some sort of mix up in the drive-thru line at the Starbucks, they had to wait a very long time for their order, so Starbucks gave them a gift card to use at a later date. Noticing that the car behind them was pretty beat up, and that it was an older couple in the car,  my friend and her husband asked the drive-thru employee to please pass that gift card on to the car behind them instead. I loved hearing her stories!

Last night I got a message from another friend. She told me that while she was at work the other day, she was telling a co-worker about my blog and the 26 acts of kindness that I was working on. She was specifically telling her co-worker about the thank you cards/cash that I gave to the McDonald's employees - she went on to tell me that while she knew her boss in the other room could hear what she was saying, she didn't really think she was paying attention. Later that day though, when she got back from lunch, her boss had dropped a card on her desk. Her boss wrote a note to her, thanking her for all the extra hours and hard work she's been putting in lately, and inside the card was  $260.00. My friend told me that it didn't even dawn on her until two days later that the amount was 26 - she told me how happy it made her, and that she just wanted me to know that my "pay it forward" message was working. This friend happens to live on the other side of the country - actually both of them do. That's pretty cool, and I'm really excited to share those stories and continue working on my own.
 
While I want to find people who are really in need and really searching for help, it's hard to know exactly what to do. I've talked about taking 26 brown bag lunches into San Francisco and passing them out to the homeless, but Eric but the kibosh on that one. He thinks it might be too dangerous, and while I know there are hungry people there, I agree that he is probably right. San Francisco's homeless population is in a league of its own. Our homeless are aggressive and can be downright scary. I have a friend whose husband is a San Francisco cop - maybe I can talk to her and ask her if he has any ideas of a safe way to go about something like that. I still plan to give blood - blood banks are always in need of donations.  We've been having some unusually cold nights here lately, so I know that a warm coat or two would be appreciated as well...

I was just thinking back to the days when I worked in the mall. I was right around 19 or 20 and working as the assistant manager in a record shop while I went to college. I was living at home with my parents, and while my record store salary wasn't a heck of a lot more than minimum wage, for someone like me, with very few expenses, I was able to pay any bills I had with plenty left over for whatever I wanted to spend it on. Working in the mall was fun - I don't know what it's like now, but twenty years ago it was like its own little microcosm. There were the trampy girls who worked across the way at the tuxedo rental shop, and the nerdy teens who worked at KayBee Toys. The Kenny G lookalike who worked at the piano store next to us, and the Michael Bolton guy who cut hair at the salon around the corner. The stern looking women in their weird nurse's uniforms who worked at See's Candies upstairs, and the mall security cop who looked like the guy from Right Said Fred (you know, the, "I'm Too Sexy for my shirt" guy. I just know that guy spent his days off dancing around his living room in a mesh tank top and leather pants. I just know it!).

 In addition to the mall employees we saw on a regular basis, there were also the regular mall-goers. The mall-walkers that we'd see during the weekday mornings, the tall, very strange Swedish guy named Hans who used to come looking for me so often that I'd literally duck behind the counter pretending to do inventory if he came by. The "mean man" who was in his sixties and would come in with his wife every week and browse for hours while snapping at anyone who came near him.... In addition to the mall-walkers, the mean man, and Hans, there was also a small old man who was a daily fixture at the mall. He'd appear sometime just before the mall actually opened, during the time that we were in our stores getting ready for the day, but before we'd opened our gates to let customers in. He wore the same pair of khaki pants every day, covered by a dirty and tattered trench coat. He also wore a brown fedora on his head. He spent all day every day in the mall, either sitting quietly on a bench, or pacing through the public area -he never entered any stores. He smoked cigarette butts that he found in the ashtrays and he usually had a small cup of McDonald's coffee in his hand. He never spoke to anyone, and no one ever spoke to him.  In the two years that I worked at the mall, this man was there every single day. He was clearly homeless and the mall was the place where he took refuge from the heat or the cold weather outside. (He never took off the trench coat though, even in the hot summertime.) I felt sad when I saw him and I talked to several of my co-workers about him. No one knew his story though. Finally, one day when Right Said Fred came into the store during his lunch break, I asked him. I figured the mall security must know something about the guy. All he could tell me was that the guy lived in a small pick-up truck with a camper shell that he parked at the farthest point of the mall parking lot during the day. They didn't allow him to park there at night, so he had to move it every night. He said they had seen it parked in various parking lots around Pleasanton. That winter we had an especially cold spell and I worried about the old man. I wanted to buy him some new clothes or at the very least, a warmer coat, but I was afraid he wouldn't take it - somehow he just didn't seem like the type to accept help. I went to Macy's and found him a heavy wool overcoat. I also bought him two pairs of pants just like what he had, some t-shirts and a sweater. I took the clothes home and wrapped them in wrapping paper, and then on Christmas Eve, I took them with me into the record store. I went to find Right Said Fred in his office and I asked him if he was closing that night. He was, so I asked him if he'd be willing to walk with me to find the man in the parking lot so that I could give him the presents after the mall closed. I hoped that by wrapping them in Christmas wrap and calling them gifts, that maybe he'd accept them from me. Right Said Fred (hereafter known as Fred) looked at me like I was crazy, but he agreed to help me. So that night, after we finished cleaning the store and counting out our registers, I put on my coat and went to find him. Fred was waiting for me in the parking lot. He told me that he'd noticed the truck parked over by Macy's, so we walked over that way. We cautiously approached the truck, but it was empty -the old man wasn't there. I was disappointed, but figured I'd try again the next time I worked. As we walked away from the truck and back toward the mall, we saw the old man approaching us; he was heading for his truck. I waved at him. "Hi," I said. "Um...I work in the mall and I see you a lot, and I um just wanted to give you a little gift for Christmas." I held the bag toward him. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I don't accept handouts!" he said. I quickly shook my head, "Oh, no, this isn't a handout! It's a gift for you! I work in the mall and I bought some gifts for some of my friends, and I just wanted to give this to you." He began to get agitated, "I said I don't take handouts! I don't take charity!" He waved his arm in the air as if to shrug me off, and he started to walk away. "But, it's so cold out - it's a nice warm coat for you. Please! Consider it a present for you. Not a handout and not charity. It would make me happy if you'd take it!" He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and shouted as he continued to walk away, "I said no!" My eyes filled with tears as I nodded and looked at Fred in defeat. He kind of shrugged, "Oh well. You tried." I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. It's just so cold out here." Fred agreed, "I know. But that's all you can do. Did you keep the receipts? Maybe you can return the stuff." As we walked back toward where my car was parked, I said, "Yeah, I guess so." We were quiet as Fred walked me to my car. I thanked him and got inside where I sobbed for ten minutes before driving home. I honestly don't even remember what I did with the clothes. I either dropped them at a Salvation Army drop off point, or I returned them. I can't remember. I still continued to see the old man every day in the mall, but I never approached him again. He continued smoking his cigarette butts and drinking his McDonald's coffee and life went on as usual. I continued to hide from Hans, and quietly sing, "I'm Too Sexy" every time Fred walked past me. I stayed in touch with several friends at the record store, even after I stopped working there, and several years later I was told by one of the girls there that the old man committed suicide in his truck while it was parked in the parking lot of the Pleasanton Jack in the Box. He allegedly shot himself. My heart broke a little bit that day. I wish there was more I could have done for that old man, but sadly, his problems were clearly more complicated than just needing a warmer coat.

This whole 26 acts thing has really made me think. It's great to step out of your comfort zone by doing something like passing out bag lunches to the homeless, or trying to help the old homeless man at the mall, but with all of the sad news in the world nowadays, it's also okay to just stay within our own circles - you never know what's going on in someone's life, and maybe a smile and a nice gesture will go a lot farther than you even realize. Does that make sense? I hope so. 

Today I did my third part of this process. 

I've been seeing the same family doctor for about seven years. He's a mild mannered, white-haired man who has a small family practice. I don't have many medical issues, but because of my damn migraines, I consider myself somewhat of a nuisance patient. I need him to bundle six boxes of my Imitrex injections at a time which always seems to cause confusion for the pharmacy- then because the migraines cause nausea, he occasionally has to call in an anti-nausea drug for me. He's also given me trials of preventative medications to see if we could possibly prevent the migraines from occurring instead of treating them once they arrive. I'm one of those people who really like to do my own research, so if I show up in his office with news of some new drug that's on the market, he's always willing to listen to me and make an educated decision as to whether it might be right for me. We don't do much experimenting anymore though - it's mostly just the Imitrex shots and the Phenergan for the nausea. But the fact that he's always willing to listen and never scoffs at me when I come in there thinking I might have some new answer - well, that means a lot to me. He also somewhat forces me to get a flu shot every year. Up until about four years ago I never got them. That year he came into the little room to see me for a migraine, and as he was walking out, he said, "Did you get your flu shot?" I said no, that I didn't get flu shots. He stopped and said, "I really recommend getting one. Why don't you get one?" I told him that I'd just never done it, and I worried that I'd get sick from the shot itself. He said, "Nah, you won't. Come on, just get one. I'm going to send the nurse in with the paperwork." I agreed, but the second he walked out of the room, I jumped off the table and left! I'm such a chicken! So, the next time he asked me again, "Did you get a flu shot?" I started to laugh and said, "No." Then I told him what I'd done. He laughed, too, and said, "I really think you should get one." I said, "Okay, I will -and this time I'll really stick around for it." And I did. Of course I didn't get sick from the shot. My arm didn't even get sore. Every year since then I've gotten a flu shot, and I really do believe that they've helped keep me well. Another thing that I love about my doctor is how supportive he's always been in my weight loss endeavors. I've talked to him in depth about my struggles. I've told him that no amount of exercise will help me  drop the extra pounds I'm carrying; that the only way I lose is if I severely restrict the calories I take in. He looked at me and shrugged as he grabbed my chart. "When was your last physical?" he asked. I told him that it hadn't been long since I'd had one. He said, "Besides the migraines, you have no medical issues.Your blood sugar is fine, your blood pressure is fine. Cholesterol is right where it should be. You know what? Sometimes you just have to accept yourself for what you are. You are healthy, you look just fine to me, you are happy. So what if you're carrying a few extra pounds? You exercise and eat as healthy as you can, and that's all okay with me. Maybe you need to be okay with that, too." Maybe some doctors might smack him for saying such a thing, but it was exactly what I needed to hear. I've never forgotten his words either. His staff is always helpful and friendly as well. They fit me in when I need to be seen, and they go to bat for me with my stupid insurance when they deny my Imitrex. So I just really appreciate everything they do for me. 

So today I typed up a letter for him and his staff, just taking a moment to thank them for all they do for me. I know how busy they are - their phones are constantly ringing off the hook, and the waiting room is always full of people. I know they work hard in there. I printed out the letter, put it inside a thank you card, and put a Starbucks gift card for each of the twelve employees in the office. In the letter, among other things, I wrote, 

".....So, to you and your staff I’d like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Please take a gift card for each of you and enjoy a little treat on me. And when you do so, I hope it makes you smile to know that you have all touched my life in a very special way. Thank you again."  

I ran the card up to his office after I picked up the kids from school - they waited out in the hallway for me. I knew they were busy, but I made sure his office manager saw it on her desk before I left. We went home after that to work on homework, and about half an hour later my cell phone rang. It was the office manager thanking me. She said that my card made her choke up when she read it, and that she really appreciated the gesture. I know they might not all drink coffee, so hopefully they can use it for a tea or a scone or something else the next time they go to Starbucks.  

So, as you can see, my acts of kindness are nothing too grand. Nothing really newsworthy. But I do hope that they at least cause a smile or two - and, like my friend across the country, maybe someone else reading these stories or hearing about them will make the choice to do something as well. That's all I can really ask for. Thank you for reading.

Here are links to the other entries:

26 acts of kindness, #1
26 acts of kindness, #2