As every American knows, Thanksgiving is this Thursday.
I was listening to the radio (I'm an avid radio listener. A good amount of my conversation is based on what I've heard recently.) and for the past two days, a prominent program has been talking about the perils of Thanksgiving dinners. For example, how can you keep family members from bringing up taboo topics? The answer: drink less. Then the host pointed out that sometimes the only thing that makes getting together as a family bearable is the copious consumption of alcohol.
Then the guest recommended using cloth napkins because it really spruces up the table.
Important stuff, I grant you.
By a show of hands, how many of you have seen a commercial for Thanksgiving that doesn't involve gluttony or Black Friday deals? I don't see any hands.
If we went by the advertising, Americans are duped into believing that Thanksgiving isn't an important holiday because ads go straight from pushing candy and costumes at us, to pushing Christmas spending. Buy, buy, buy! But whatever you do, do NOT be grateful for what you already have.
This attitude makes me want to lash out.
I heard a statistic once that stated that ninety percent of the world's population can't afford carpet. How can we consistently find things to be unhappy about when we have carpet covering our floors and warming our toes?
I hope all of us will take more than a couple of seconds this week to think about how much we really have, carpet included, of course. The turkey will be much happier to have given his life for our annual family argument if we're only shouting things at one another we're grateful for.
17 November 2014
In book club the last couple of months, we've chatted a little about introverts and extroverts. This month, we're reading a book about it:
"Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking" by Susan Cain. I'm excited to glean it (I don't think I'll actually read the whole thing because it's non-fiction, but gleaning is within the realm of possibility.)
I've known for a long time that I'm not as outgoing as a lot of people I know, and for the most part I'm okay with that. I like staying home and writing or reading or watching TV shows no one else likes. My husband is the same way, so it doesn't bother him either (except he watches movies no one else likes).
From what I understand, I'm an introvert. I know, you're shocked, right? But I thought introverts were shy or socially awkward or sociopaths. I like people and I like being with them. According to this book, I'm an introvert because I'm rejuvenated by doing solitary things and being social drains me. Completely accurate.
Conversely, (and quite obviously) an extrovert is someone who is rejuvenated by hanging out with friends and being social.
I'd never heard this explanation before, but it makes a lot of sense and I thought I'd pass it along to anyone bored enough to read this blog. Also, I really like the book's title.
Posted by Mandi at 9:50 AM
04 November 2014
What do you think of when you think "diseased"?
Now, the clincher. Me. Add me to the list because I am now listed as diseased.
I have the joy, nay, the privilege to carry two (TWO) autoimmune diseases: Type one Diabetes, which you probably already know about, and now (Ta-Dah!) Hashimoto's Disease. I'll have to check with my lawyers, but I'm pretty sure that legally admits me to the diseased ranks.
Hashimoto's deals with the thyroid. An autoimmune disease means my body mistook my pancreas or thyroid as an alien invader, and like any good rebel alliance, has annihilated it and all its space stations. ("Attack!")
Since I heard the second diagnosis, I've been mulling around the idea of disease. What does it mean to be at that party?
It's not a party most people want to take their friends to on Friday night. It's not where anyone chooses to be. I mean, take a look at the pictures above. Would you party with those guys? Not only that, but the people who ARE at the party hide. Leia and Han try to look like they're NOT at the party, and no one likes to talk about Luke's problems because, frankly, they're embarrassing. (Just sticking with the Star Wars theme. No offense to the Princess, General, and Jedi.)
I'm guilty of this also. I want to look and act like everyone else. Normal, you know?
But I'm a pin cushion. A carb counter. A low-glucose level whack job. A coma waiting to happen. I'm tired, cold, and overweight.
This is what being diseased is for me: Life.
And while I recognize I have a great, great life, honestly, I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself.
Posted by Mandi at 2:38 PM