It’s Monday…here we go!
“I do not fix problems.
I fix my thinking.
Then problems fix themselves.”
~ Louise Hay
With a capital “N”
The subject for today, ladies and gentlemen, is passwords. I’ve grown quite a list over the years, and as long as I have my trusty planner in hand, I’m good. That’s where I keep my log of who’s who, and who I am on each site I frequent. I can see changes in pets, addresses, vacation sites, and a few other patterns when I look at my login history.
Have you had a password rejected because it’s not secure enough? I love to see the little gauge showing that my selected password is strong. I get miffed when my choice is rebuffed as weak, and even more miffed if I have to change it or add to it. I particularly hate having to put numbers or characters in my passwords. At work, there’s this really annoying requirement that you change your password every couple of months, and you can’t just bounce between the same two words, switiching back and forth. There are also layers of passwords. There’s the login combination to get into the system initially, then to get into some specific programs, there’s another login required, another user id and password to remember. Did I mention this is annoying?
Like a lot of people, I recycle my choices. If you ever crack one of my accounts open, you’ll have the key to about 95% of my logins. But that’s just a risk I’ll have to take. At least I’m down to four or five combinations. If I can’t remember what I used, there’s a good chance I’ll figure it out before I get locked out for multiple failed attempts.
My husband calls to me from the living room. I’m deep in kitchen world, mixing up banana bread. He needs to know my password for a website. I tell him it’s one of our pet names. I wait. I know what comes next. “Is that with a capital ‘N’?” Yes. The answer is yes. Unless a site won’t allow capitals, I always use them if I’m creating a password from a name.
I know what comes next. Why do I make it hard on myself? Who uses capitals in passwords? Sorry, can’t help it. It’s like writing an email and not using punctuation. I have these things built into my head, and they won’t leave me alone. If I type a name, it’s going to be capitalized. You’d think by now he would know that. Hey, I figure if I’m one of the few people using capitals, it adds to my online security.
Well, security can be over-rated. I don’t always have my planner with me, and if my login is too secure, I’ll have to go through the whole “forgot my password” game…log in, admit that I lost or forgot or gave away this VERY IMPORTANT PIECE OF PERSONAL INFORMATION, and then wait to get the reset link emailed. And then reset myself, which I already know is going to be a variation on the theme I’ve had established for some years now…so really, do we have to go through all of that? Can’t we just all click a button in the registration process that swears us to absolute best behavior when browsing internet sites? Really, is there anyone out there so bored with their own life that they need to see my buying history or my bank account? (Neither is interesting, trust me on this.)
But no, even though credit card companies promise to make it easy on the customer if ever someone illegally lifts someone else’s card number and goes on a spending spree, we’re still scared. So we all have passords, logins, etc., etc., etc., to protect us online. Problem is, sometimes I’m the one that’s kept out, inconvenienced, irritated, frustrated, and finally, embarrassed if I have to acknowledge to another human being out there in support world that I can’t remember my password, or, even more shocking, was careless with it!
At work, there’s a little reminder message that pops up when I’m in a secure program. It reminds me to NEVER share my login information with anyone. As if! Someone is waiting to haul me to JAIL if I do that. I work in a hospital, and patient records are right up there with sacred writings. I might give up my personal information with the right persuasion. But you’re not going to pry the work goods out of me.
Passwords…private, deeply personal, a reflection of what’s important to us…or what we can remember from day to day…humorous, playful, random, repetitive, bizarre…well, mine begin with capitals, whatever else they may be. Just remember that, if you’re every trying to crack my code.
Is this someone you know?
A friend shared this quote with me recently: “Often wrong, never in doubt.” No, no, it wasn’t about me. It was just shared with me. I’m too often in doubt for this to ever apply to me. But I immediately thought of a few acquaintances who should have this for their personal motto. Bet you’ve known a few of these folk too.
Well, a little humor on a Friday is a good thing…so next time you’re with someone who knows all, you can think of this and enjoy a little smile to yourself. Happy Friday!
Need to nurture
I have a need to nurture. I’ve known that for a long time, but I’m sometimes embarrassed to admit it. Does this mean I’m not done mothering? Or am I somehow seeking to make myself necessary to others by providing comfort? I like to bake, and I frequently take food to work to share. Does this mean that I’m needy, looking for approval? It can be confusing. Am I giving comfort, or seeking it?
Well, like many answers in life, I’m guessing the truth is somewhere in the middle. I am giving comfort with food, or by doing a favor, or by…(fill in the blank here). And of course I enjoy the approval that comes my way when my food is appreciated, or I know I’ve made a difference in someone’s day by helping out.
But I also think the answer is more complex than either of these obvious choices. The truth is, I am comforted and nurtured when I give to others. That doesn’t make me a saint or anything special. In fact, it could be argued that because this behavior feeds me emotionally, my giving is more about me than others. But it’s really a nice balance between the two. Everyone has strengths, and I believe that strength is a reflection of behavior or attitude that flows naturally. My strength reflects my core.
I know people who are wonderful leaders, decision-makers, clear-thinking and strong enough to create their vision for work, mission, family. I know others who are detail oriented, dedicated to seeing the smallest task through to completion. I know people who dream big and see the goal to be met. Each personality has strength, and mine happens to be sharing comfort, nurturing when I can, in small ways or large.
It took me a long time to accept that about myself, to recognize bringing comfort to others as a strength. It seemed like I was just being nice, when all along, I was being strong. Good to know!
Words I like to say
Haboob. Tittabawassee. Titicaca. Plethora. Williwaw. Superfluity.
Go ahead. Look ’em up. They’re all legitimate words or place names.
Try saying these words yourself. They roll off your tongue, and you may find yourself repeating them for the sheer fun of it.
Even better than just saying them to yourself, try working them into casual conversation. Try working all of them into a conversation with the same person. I’m starting to giggle thinking about that one.
Can you tell it was a long cool summer here?
Fall is in the air
What’s magic about this season? Many people say this is their favorite time of year, and that’s true for me too. I always think the calendar should begin with September. It seems like the true start to the year, forever tied in my mind to the beginning of a new school cycle. From my own years as a student, through the years of my children’s education, that rhythm was permanently ingrained. Even without a tie to the school calendar now, so many rituals focus on back-to-school events that I can’t escape the reality that summer has ended, a new season has begun. And although summer traditionally brings luxurious down time and a more relaxed pace of life, it feels good to get back to a schedule, a routine, a defined expectation of the week after summer vacations end.
Aside from the back-to-school sales, the beginning of football season, and early advertisements for Halloween (already there are masses of bags filled with bite-sized candy bars beckoning in the grocery aisles), temperatures announce that change is in the air. The sun in September has a different quality in its warmth, a different brightness in its light. By October, mornings and evenings are crisp, and by November, some days there is frost on the steps outside my front door. The familiar ritual, pulling out sweaters and boots, gloves and coats, moving the summer wear out and the winter wear in, signals that turtleneck season, stretching from September to May in Alaska, has arrived.
When my kids were little, we made annual visits to apple orchards to buy apples and cider, and to pumpkin patch farms to pick pumpkins. It was fun to have exposure to the harvest season as we weren’t connected with these experiences in other ways. It was good to see my kids learn a little about harvest time and enjoy a taste of fruit bought from the source rather than a grocery store. There is just something completely heartwarming about drinking fresh pressed cider and riding on a tractor trailer pulling excited pre-schoolers around a farm.
I like pumpkins; they’re my favorite choice for fall decorating. I add a few brightly colored leaves and nuts, some seasonal berries and cinnamon scented candles, and decorating is done from September to November. I think you get more bang for the buck from fall decorating than in any other season. And the best part: so much of what you use is available in a natural form, right from the grocery store or farmer’s market. The produce section alone offers enough variety to dress up your look for any party you host from Labor Day to Thanksgiving.
The best part of fall has to be the food: iconic comfort food like soups, chili, stews; and sweets made with apples, nuts, raisins, pumpkin and all the familiar spices. Even the beverages are unique to the time of year…apple cider and spiced teas and coffees seem just right in October and November. I never think of drinking a cinnamon flavored coffee in July…why is that? But this time of year I’m focused on warm luxury in my beverages, and topping off a spiced coffee with a little sweetened whipped cream is a perfect start to the day or end to the evening. Sampling a pumkin cobbler or apple cranberry pie is a frequent pleasure. I bake more this time of year, and I appreciate the comfort of homey aromas coming from the kitchen when I open the door after work and remember that I put a stew in the crockpot before I left for the day.
Anticipation is key; I know what happens next, and I love it. We’re all getting ready to spend more time indoors, gear up for the Christmas season, celebrate once again the Thanksgiving holiday that reminds us of the importance of family, friends, good times, good food, and the traditions that bind it all together. So here’s to Fall, the magical (and real) start to a new year, a new cycle, and the best of comfort, home, and harvest.
If two are alike, one is unnecessary
I’m drawn to the same things over and over again in my choice of style…in dress, in home decor, in color scheme. Clear glass vases, decanters, serving pieces call to me. Always have, always will. I love the crispness of khaki and white and cranberry. You could follow a paint trail from Michigan to Colorado to Alaska and find similar color swatches in all my homes. I’ve been known to buy a second pair of shoes that I love, to have as back up, and…just because I love the first pair so much.
But you know, when I do that, I end up saving my spare pair because it’s my spare. If I use them, I won’t have them. Ok, at the risk of exposing my craziness, I’ll bet I’m not the only woman who does this. I’ll bet a lot of women paint the same colors as they move from house to house, or find themselves buying another piece of (fill in the blank here) because they just couldn’t resist.
But as I sort my stuff, prepare for a move, I have to be honest here. I don’t need duplicates of wine decanters or cake stands.
So what’s the point of this, other than a little self-examination and personal pledge to buy less, (or at least buy different!)?
I had a conversation recently about what’s better for relationships: having a lot in common, or bringing very different personalities together? You know, the idea that opposites attract versus the reality that common interests draw people together. I heard, “If two are alike, one is unnecessary.” I thought of my multiples of possessions. Then I thought about the couples I know. True, some seem to have a lot in common. But most seem very different, in personalitiy, in interests, in likes and dislikes.
A successful partnership draws on the strengths of everyone involved. The goals of the partnership are shared, but the talents had better be unique to each person on the team. You don’t need multiple people who have the same skills (stay with me here, this is a small partnership, I’m not talking about corporate giants). You need diversity, flexiblity, and the insights that each person can share with others, based on a unique point of view, a unique skill set, unique tastes.
So it is with personal relationships, I believe. Yes, you must have interests that draw you, and common goals if you are in a marriage, a family, a friendship. None of these relationships work without cooperation or shared desires and values. But I go back to the thought that two things (or people) who are alike make one of them unnecessary. I like the point this drives home. It reminds me to celebrate the individual gifts and talents in my own relationship, to acknowledge that my husband is good at things I am not. And my strong points stand out because they are different from his.
So next time I’m tempted to buy yet another vase, or decanter, next time I’m in the paint department at the hardware store, I’m going to do it. I’ll choose something different, a new color. Because if two are alike, one is unnecessary.
My own little lake
Rain again this past weekend. When I say it rained, I don’t mean we had a shower. No, we had a deluge. AGAIN. For all those people in Texas who need rain…believe me, I would send you days of the stuff if I could.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I have a small lake in my basement. This isn’t a new thing. The house was built in 1920 and has been remodeled over the years, so this problem has been addressed before, by others. But never fixed, apparently. When we have heavy rain, we get seeping ground water that comes up through fine cracks in the concrete floor. Not really a problem, doesn’t seem to do any harm. But I’m tired of sweeping out the lake on a regular basis, and I keep wondering what would happen if we had a potential buyer checking us out on a day that the basement floor is liquid. Not an easy thing, I’m thinking, to reassure someone that the water only rises to a certain point and then recedes.
Saturday we had a contractor come over to give us ideas about effective treatment. Install a sump pump, redirect one of the downspouts behind the house, put a drain in the basement floor with a collection box…oh, all can be done for the small sum of about $2,000. And it is a small sum, as these types of repairs go. But you never know WHAT you may run into when you begin these things, so we are to understand that $2,000 is the least we’re looking at. Could be higher. Much higher.
I’m thinking these days of how I can turn anything and everything to income. Maybe I can write about the perils of owning a house that’s almost 100 years old. Maybe I can give advice to other basement/lake owners. Maybe I can become an expert on sump pumps. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m coming to a cliff in a few months, one that I’m willingly walking toward, and I’m jumping off without reliable income. AND I have this little basement issue. What to do, what to do!
Fortunately Rob will pay for the basement. In our universe, he usually covers these types of things. The bigger bills don’t typically come my way. But it does make me think a bit.
Really, I expect to be ok. I’m having fun learning about portable and alternative income sources. I’ve already committed to relief work at the hospital, and I’m thinking about entrepreneurial options, everything from baking to editing to whatever else I stumble on. I’m excited to try my wings, and if I grow them on the way down, as the saying goes, that just makes it all the more fun.
So this week, I’m going to become an expert on basement drainage. I think the contractor’s coming over tomorrow to get started, and if you see a post or two about the intricacies of pipes, collection boxes and drains, you’ll know why. At least my lake should soon be gone.
Goodbye white shoes, I hardly wore you
September, Labor Day weekend, and my Southern upbringing has kicked in. I wouldn’t be caught dead from now until next Memorial Day in white shoes. Just.not.done. At least for my generation. (Maybe this is more about my age than where I was raised…or both? I’ll have to get back to you on that.)
Mind you, I have no idea where this fashion dictum came from, or how it became so firmly impressed on my young self. All I know is that to violate this rule was taboo in my youth, and whether or not it matters to the fashion police now (if it ever did), I’m obligated to live with this for the rest of my life. You’d think it was important or something. But if it is, I don’t know why.
But not knowing didn’t stop me from passing the white shoes rule on to my daughter. Really I expand this to summer clothes in general…the only possible exception being a tropical location where it’s always acceptable to wear white, whatever the season. (And who decided that? Another fashion mystery!)
Perhaps it’s fortunate for me that I live in a climate that actually encourages me to return to my September-to-May uniform of turtlenecks and heeled pumps. The summer slides are put away. They didn’t get too much wear-time this year anyway. Miserable summer season here. But the weather, at this point, is not the point: I couldn’t violate the calendar. Just can’t do it. My roots are showing!
There are things you leave behind when you move from one side of the country to another: regional produce, local customs, favorite eateries. Without any effort on my part, my Southern accent has mostly faded away from long years of disuse (although it revives a bit when I go back for a visit). But some things…the white shoes rule, for instance…follow me about from place to place, a passenger in my head, mostly forgotten, but somehow silently monitoring the calendar, and then, ca-ching, like my oven timer, a bell goes off internally to remind me of The Rule. The same thing will happen Memorial Day…my Southern self will wake up, reminding me, nudging me. Change of seasons, change of shoes.
Thoughts for the day
Rest but never quit. Even the sun has a sinking spell each evening. But it always rises the next morning. At sunrise, every soul is born again. ~ Author Unknown
Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. ~ Albert Einstein
Light tomorrow with today. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The best dreams happen when you’re awake. ~ Cherie Gilderbloom
Grace and Life 