I will do this

This should not be something I have to blog about.  I should be able to do this without all the fretting and worrying.

I do realize this is not normal.  Perhaps it is just an irrational fear I have and should seek counseling to resolve.

It is car buying.

I have purchased 2 vehicles on my own in the past 16 years.  There is a disclaimer:  we did purchase (together) a vehicle after my husband had a horrible wreck and totaled his truck.  We went to the local dealership together just to get something he would fit into with his prosthetic device. His accident was so horrible and his prosthesis so painful looking and large, everyone in town knew about us.  The car buying experience at that time was painless.  The guys at the dealership did things for us that they probably don’t do for others, just because no one wanted to be my husband.

The first car buying experience was when gas went up to $1.50 per gallon in 1993.  I had a mini van and was driving 150 miles round trip every day to work.  My exhusband and I were separated.  The mini van was necessary to transport a family of 6, but my family was now down to 3 so I didn’t need the van or the expense of putting gas in it every other day.

I worked in the division of a large regional bank that handled indirect auto loans.  Do you remember when you went into a dealer and applied for a loan and the loan was made by an actual bank?  I was in the division where that loan department was located.  My manager, the SVP of that division, talked with the manager of the indirect lending department and instructed him to get me a deal.  I was rather sheepish and scared about this process.

The manager sent me out to test drive cars and pick out what I wanted.  I picked a 1993 Toyota Corolla.  Stick shift, no bells and whistles, just the basic car.  He approved my loan and I had a good deal.  He sent me to the dealership to sign the papers and pick up my new car.  There was a problem.  The salesman’s boss would not allow the agreed upon amount for my minivan in trade in.  This was a problem as the loan papers had to be redone and the payments recalculated.  The salesman tried to explain to his manager that this had already been worked out with their primary lender – the bank where I worked – to no avail.  I sat in the lobby of the dealership as the new papers were being drawn up with my higher payment with tears streaming down my face.  I felt taken advantage of and cheated.  I was mad and upset.

The higher payment was going to mess up my already tight budget.  I had this worked out – then it got screwed up at the very end.  I was not happy.  I did not have new car excitement when I drove the car off the lot.  I was embarrassed and mad because I was screwed.

Back at work I complained to my manager, who called the dealership and spoke to the general manager, who apologized for me being upset but stated that the person who originally gave me the trade in value on my van was not authorized to make that deal.  Whatever.  They screwed me and we all knew it and no one was going to do anything about it.

I felt a bit of snarky vindication when that dealership went out of business years later.  They were all asshats and didn’t deserve to stay in business.

My next experience was n 1999.  The Corolla was 6 years old and had 226,000 miles on it.  It still ran like a top, but it was time for another car.  I had moved up in my career and needed to show up at client’s locations in something a bit nicer than an old Corolla.  With that many miles on it. I was starting to worry about long trips to see my daughter in college.  It was just time.

I picked out the car that would be my next car 2 years before I decided it was time to buy.  I knew what I wanted, I just had to go find it.  I did it on my own.  I did my research and was ready to do battle.  I did not expect the experience to be good, I expected to get screwed and I was ready to fight.

I knew there would be no trade in on the Corolla.  I might as well give the car away and pay them extra to take it.  I had a down payment instead. I found the exact car I wanted and went to the dealership to fight.  The experience was not as bad nor did I feel as screwed as I did before, but I can’t say I felt hunky dorey about the whole thing.

As the finance guy was punching the numbers in, trying to get me to add this and that so they could make more money, the payment amount kept changing even though I said no to most of his offers.    He looked shocked by the ever changing numbers that were popping up on his screen.  I looked at him with my meanest look and said “what the hell is going here?  Are you trying to rip me off because I am a single woman?”

Oh no, oh no, he was not, his system must be messed up.  I asked him if I needed to leave and come back when his system worked.

He pushed a few more buttons and the payment amount stopped changing.  He printed out the documents for me to review.  I had two items added to the car – a rear spoiler and remote lock/unlock.  The asshat did not tell me that when the remote lock/unlock is not factory installed, it doesn’t work like you think it does. If you lock the door with the remote clicker and try to unlock with a key, it sets the alarm off.  I used the remote locking system for a few years and then had it disabled.  I was tired of hearing the alarm go off.

I felt I escaped that buying experience with most of my ass.  I have enjoyed and loved that car for 10 years now.

It is still running, although it shakes a lot.  It has over 200,000 miles on it.  We plan to keep it as a commuter car for my husband.  When it dies, my husband will resume driving our SUV.

I picked out my next car 3 years ago.  Two years ago, when my car was 8 years old, I said I would buy a car.  That’s as far as I got.  Last January I said I would buy a car.  We went to England instead and I did not buy a car.

This year, no – this SPRING – I am going to buy a car.  I am serious.  I am going to do it.

We have our choices narrowed down to 2.  Last weekend we actually did drive by’s at lots to check out the cars.  We got out and quickly fondled the exteriors of the cars and peeked in the windows.  When we saw salespeople approaching, we jumped in our car and sped off. I have to do this one baby step at a time.

Monday I stopped by a dealership to see if they had a car that met my wish list.  This time I was brave.  I spoke to a salesman.He offered to let me test drive.  I turned red.  I was not ready to take that step.   He did not have my dream car but said if I gave him the list of what I wanted, he find it and get it to his lot for test driving. He was friendly, not pushy, and talked more about football than cars.  I gave him the list.

He called later that day and said he found several cars that met my wish list and to give him 3 days notice when we were ready to test drive.  That gives me another week to get used to the idea of an actual test drive.

Why do I have this fear?  There are people that trade and get new cars every two years.  When I think about people who do that, I think they are stupid with their money.  That is just my opinion and since I am not in Henry Paulsen’s position nor am I a famous and rich financial advisor, don’t be insulted if you are on of those people.

I know cars are not assets, they are liabilities.  To me a car is not a status symbol or an object of love, it is a way to go.  And I have to credit the Sweet Potato Queen author for that bit of wisdom.  I don’t want to drive an 1986 Yugo around but I do not have to purchase a luxury car to feel important or successful.  I will likely end up with a Nissan.  A love object?  Well…I need to LOVE the car to buy it.   I want to LOVE it for a while because, damn, that’s a lot of money.

I’m going to buy a car this year.  Actually, I swear, I am going to buy one in February.  I am, really.

From Current Resident

You know that mail, don’t you?  To Current Resident?

I believe I’m an average consumer, aka Current Resident.  I am not in that really young demographic that the beer advertisements are meant to entice.  However, I am in the demographic of people who are seasoned in their careers, empty nesters, home owners, gainfully employed with disposable income.  I am sure there are companies that really want my money attention so I would like send a shout out to a few companies that have lost my potential money attention recently and explain why, just in case they give a shit.

I am a faithful listener to the country radio station at 107 on the dial.  My 24/7 kitchen and office radios are tuned to 107 and stay on all day and night.  I am sure the advertisers that use 107 to peddle their wares are delighted to know that there are faithful listeners like me out there.

There are times I want to turn off 107.  The afternoons are hard.  They have a female DJ and she is the most obnoxiously clueless and annoying DJ they have.  To be nice, I will say she is not the worst DJ in the world, just the worst on 107.  She laughs at everything she says.  She gives commentary on songs and her commentary sounds like it comes from an Amish minister.   But I stick with her each afternoon, tuning her out when she gets too bad.

I’m trying to remain faithful to 107.  However.  Today I had to turn them off.  I had enjoyed a yoga session in my living room, showered and dressed and walked into the kitchen for breakfast.  I was in a good mood to start the morning in spite of nagging painful back ache, the sinus cold from hell and snot production that rivals a Texas oil rig.  But 107 tried to slap me down by introducing a re-make of an extremely unsuccessful song from a few years back.  The DJ’s went on and on about how wonderful the song was and then played it.

In the Current Resident’s opinion the song was unsuccessful in its original version for a reason.  It is too damn depressing and sad.  It is a whole song about a teenager committing suicide.  Who the hell wants to hear that?  OK, I understand the extreme grief of losing a child, but I can’t imagine hearing a song like that being anything but devastating.  Seriously 107!  Stop that shit!  The Current Resident does not want to start the day crying her contacts out of her eyes and being depressed. And while you’re cleaning up your play list, take off the song about the woman who’s husband kills her in a drunk driving accident so now she gets flowers every day – on her grave.  And we’ve heard enough of that Carrie Underwood song about the funeral.  Stop it please.

If you just MUST play those songs to honor some haranguing agreement with the record labels, why don’t you have a Depression Hour and play them all at once?  That way Current Resident can elect to watch reruns of Green Acres during that time and not be depressed and looking for a bridge from which to jump.

Next.

I’m in the market for a new car.  I bought my last new car 10 years ago and if I’m only going to buy one car per decade, then I am willing and excited about buying something really nice.  However, I am practical and I have my list of “wants” in a new car.

My ideal dream car is an Infiniti coupe.  Oh, how sharp that car looks!  I have had that car on my Next Car list for years.  I have the color picked out, I know the frou frou options I want, yes, I’ve thought long and hard about this.  But I will not be getting the Infiniti.  Why?  It has nothing to do with the exorbiant price or the highway robbery for regular maintenance.  It is really simple:  Infiniti does not have, nor do they seem willing to put cloth seats in their cars.  Nope.  All leather.  I will drive a 1978 Ford Pinto before I place my ass in a leather seat.

I hate leather with a hate that I nurture every day.  Budget Car Rental knows this about me due to unfortunate experiences at their rental counters over the years.  I will not, ever, drive a car with leather seats.  I don’t want to ride with other people who have leather seats, I detest it that much.  But Infiniti apparently thinks people who can afford their cars only want leather.  They are wrong.

I went to my second and third choice cars, a Nissan and a Toyota where I have options for “building” my own car.  This is nice because there are amenities that I really want.  Of course I want a nice radio and speakers, but I want a dock or something built in so tha I can plug in my ipod.  I want a moonroof.  I want power seats and doors and it would be really nice to push a button on a cold morning and have my car start by itself.  For both the Nissan and Toyota, those options are available and considered “premium” which means to get those things, you get leather seats.  Asshats.

I have marked Infiniti off my list.  They have lost a sale.  I hope they are comfortable in their leather chairs.  I feel that I can argue, barter and compromise with Nissan and Toyota and get some of what I want and still be comfortable with my ass in a cloth seat.  We’ll see.

Next

Don’t make it hard for me to buy from you.  There are many companies out there that want my business and make it very easy to buy from them.  Walmart?  Pay attention.  One of my half ass interests is photography. I take tons of pictures and have a nice little digital camera.  I download the pictures to my computer, edit them and then upload them to Walmart for printing.  I have an account set up on line and uploading, although time consuming, is easy.  Ordering is a breeze.

Walmart decided to jack with my on line account yesterday and I could not upload my photos.  Apparently there was some fluke where my password no longer worked.  I clicked on the “email my password to me” button and waited for the email.  And waited.  And waited.  And then tried a new photo printing service instead.  This morning Walmart emailed my password to me but it was 12 hours too late.  I now have an account to print my pictures somewhere else and I may start using this new service all the time.  Sorry Walmart.  Current Resident wants it to be easy.  When you start making it hard, I’m gone.

Current Resident has choices in this economy that we haven’t had before.  We don’t have to buy from you, unless you are the local utility company and therefore have a monopoly.  I don’t have to listen to suicide songs on your radio station.  I don’t have to buy your car.  I don’t have to have my pictures printed by you.  You better watch out.

Ignore the needs and wants of your customers and you may be writing Obama for a bail out.

Friends

There are many hokie platitudes around about friendship.

Just take a look at the greeting cards in your local Walmart.  Listen to high school graduation speeches.  Everywhere you’ll find things like “friends are forever” “friends are family you get to pick” and so forth.

I assume the bonds of friendship have been around since man ventured out of the cave and needed a buddy to fight off the meat eating terrorasouras while he killed a buffalo for next week’s meals.  We all need someone sometime somewhere along the road in the journey of life.

OK, enough hokie.

I had the wonderful and indescribable-without-platitude-phrases experience with friends this past weekend.  I am privileged to be a member of a group of strong, talented and amazing women that inhibit a minute piece of space on the internet.  Our group formed 4 years ago from an online women’s site that featured message boards and chat.  This site was public and probably thousands of people read and contributed to it.  However, there was a core group that participated more than others and had many things in common, including family situations, careers, causes we support, and a sense of humor.  We took ourselves off the public forum into a secure space all our own and we have been there going on 4 years now.

Over the past years, we have grown close and shared many aspects of our lives with each other.  We have shared the joys of new babies and the hard road of divorce.  We’ve been there to support each other through break ups and job loss, the loss of parents and children.  In 4 years time, we have become what the internet terms “BFF’s”.

We live all over the US, in Canada, England and Australia.  Because many of us travel in our jobs, there have been many in person meetings over the years.  There are small groups that get together on occasion.  But this past weekend, we attempted to get as many BFF’s together as possible in one place for a long weekend of BFF fun.  We began planning in June of last year.

Out of almost 30 BFF’s, twelve of us were able to make it to the designated destination.  We spent Thursday through Monday together.

When I told family and a few friends that I was having a girl’s weekend, I got a few sour looks and snarks.  I thought most people understand friendships and the fun in getting together, but apparently that is not so.  I was surprised that some people think it is not OK to leave your husband and house to spend time with girlfriends.

I wonder why there are people who think that once you become a wife or a mother that your entire life as a person is gone and you must focus all your time and attention to the people in your home, all the time, no exceptions.  I realize I am a progressive female defined by many as a bitch, but it is foreign to me to think that my friends are limited to my husband and who we as a couple hang out with.  I need girlfriends, I think all females need girlfriends.

I’m not talking about the female half of a married couple that couples socialize with.  I’m talking another woman who will tell you your butt looks big in those pants.  One who will hold your hand while you cry or roll in the floor laughing with you.  One who will listen to you complain about whatever person has pissed you off that day and get just as mad as you are because that other person is an ass.

I am so fortunate to have several friends like that.  Friends I can email or text from the pits of hell or from looking down on fluffy clouds.  Friends who are not afraid to give me reality slap and tell me I am wrong and need to do something different.

Spending time with friends like that is rejuvenating.  It is uplifting.  It is just good in so many ways.

We laughed.  We ate.  We cooked and cleaned up together.  We laughed.  We stayed up late.  We got up early.  We laughed.  We talked about everything under the sun.  We sang.  We laughed.  We were just girlfriends.

I think my 4 days with my BFF’s has beaten back the SAD at least a couple of miles.  The fun, laughter and bonding of our time together have given me a lift that will last for many weeks.

Everybody needs friends.  Not acquaintances, but true friends.

My friends are a blessing.

My friends are my lifeline.

If you don’t have any friends like that, please go find one.

Games You Can Play with Your Brain

Not crosswords or sudoko. 

 As one gets old, one’s eyesight is not what it used to be.   If I ever get asked the question, “what is the worst part of aging?” I will not answer with sagging body parts, aches and pains, wrinkles, forgetting stuff or even menopause.  To me the absolute worst thing in the world about aging is losing my perfect eyesight.  ARGH!

I’ve worn glasses for about 8 years now.  Bi-focals. 

I started out just putting on the glasses when I needed to read something.  I found that I was constantly putting them on and pulling them off, which causes wear and tear and a short life for the rather pricey glasses.  I tried wearing them all the time but had problems.  I could not adjust to the blurriness when I looked down during everyday activities.  Once I had the bi-focals on as I rushed through the Atlanta airport.  I looked down to get on the escalator and it was blurry.  I stumbled getting on the moving steps.

I took a year off from bi-focals  a while back and used cute little reading glasses I could buy anywhere. This worked really well for a while.  I bought several cheap pair and stashed them everywhere.  I could flip them on and off and if they broke, hey, $5 would buy another pair. 

However.  I began experiencing frequent headaches I attributed to the glasses.  My vision had also grown worse, and I was on my second step of stronger reading glasses.  I went to the optometrist and got new bi-focals.

I’ve had those new bi-focals a year and a half now.  I have problems with those.  I cannot read without the glasses and resigned myself to wearing them all the time.  The glasses are always crooked on my face.  They are always smudged and dirty.  When a light shines on my glasses, all I can see are fingerprints.  When I am driving during the day, I must wear sunglasses.  I have always felt my eyes were too sensitive to the sunlight.  When my cell phone rings, I can’t see the screen.  If I have to glance at directions, I can’t read them.

The turning point came in the fall on business trip in Kansas.  I was driving west to Topeka when the sun was setting.  I had the mapquest directions printed out.  The sun was blinding me beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.  The glare was so bad I could not read the signs on the interstate.  With my sunglasses on, I could not read my directions.  It was miserable and I got lost.  I knew something had to change.

I decided that I would invest in a pair of prescription sunglasses on my next visit to the optometrist.   By that time I also knew I hated glasses.  It is not a vanity thing.  Actually, I think I look rather smart in glasses. 

My husband and I attended a community Thanksgiving service in November.  It was dark when we walked up to the unfamiliar church.  The church had spotlights shining on the front of the building.  As I walked into the light to enter the church, all I could see was the dirt on my glasses and I missed a step and stumbled.  I tried to remind myself you are not supposed to cuss in church.

I sat next to a lady that I did not know.  I made a comment about my dirty glasses and my stumble.  She was a bit older than me and did not have on glasses.  She told me about her solution – monovision.  One contact for up close and one for distance. 

I have heard about monovision before from a coworker in Chicago.  It sounded so unusual I thought it was something only big city people knew about, but here we were, right in the middle of the sticks, and someone not only knew about it, but used it.  She told me an eye doctor in our town fixed her up with the solution.

I did my research into bi-focal contacts on the internet and learned more about contacts than I ever expected to know.  I made the appointment in early December to be fitted with contacts.

Due to my eyesight, the doc had to experiment with different combinations and strengths of contacts.  Every week I went to him and every week he changed the contact prescription.  My poor brain got a work out.  He told me to leave the contacts in for the week, no matter what so my brain could adjust.

My brain is old and is worn out.  It doesn’t like being played and rebelled accordingly.  One week, anything farther than 10 feet from me was extremely blurry.  This had it advantages, though.  All men look much better when blurred.  Also, our church was decorated in candles and lights for Christmas, so the blurred vision made it hauntingly beautiful. 

One week I couldn’t see up close, but he told me to keep trying.  I squinted and frowned and did my best to focus until the headaches got me.

After 5 weeks of experimenting, we “settled” on the best we can do.  My vision is no where near perfect.  I can see distances OK, but there is better clarity without the contacts.  My close up vision is tolerable most of the time.  I changed the settings on my cellphone to LARGE fonts so I can see what’s on the screen. 

I  frown and squint all the time in an effort to read my computer screen and any books or newspapers.  The doc says my vision and brain will adjust and I’ll eventually see better, or it will seem that way any way.

I love the freedom of contacts.  I can wear sunglasses, I’m not taking glasses on and off all the time.  When they are attached to your eyeballs, you don’t have to get up and look for them in the mornings. I sleep in them so there is no maintenance really.  I am supposed to change them every 2 weeks.  I’m trying to stick with this and give my brain time to get on board with it.

But last night I took the contacts out to let them soak overnight in their solution.  Right now I have my glasses on and the clarity I have is  a miracle.  There is no squinting and frowning, everything on my computer screen, around my desk and even the tree I can see out the window is perfectly clear. 

Sigh.  This is another of the little battles.  I’m really rooting for the contacts, but I’m not sure they are going to win this one.

Little Battles

Don’t you just love to win?

I’ll put the disclaimer right up front:  I’m not a highly competitive person.  I’m no fun in board games because I play and enjoy the game.  If I lose I don’t care.  The only “thing” I try to beat when I run is my last time on that route. My dear husband, on the other hand, is HIGHLY competitive.  He really gets into a card or board game.  He loves to beat me running even though he is the only one who notices when he does so.  He is not a sore loser, in spite of his assholeness competitive spirit.  When he loses he says nothing.  Sometimes I think I would rather him be a sore loser than what he actually is:  an obnoxious winner.

The scenario:  a game of friendly Uno among the family.  The game goes on.  He yells and hollers every time something exciting (in his opinion) happens.  He is so obnoxious that people are trying to help him win just so the game and his obnoxiousness will be OVER.  Then he finally wins.  He dances around, gleefully yelling and laughing and carrying on and picking on the losers.  Generally the losers are just glad the damn game is over and his incessant loud gloating gets on everyone’s last nerve.  He interprets our annoyance with him as our sorrow in being defeated by him, so he continues.   Let’s just say not many people are willing to play cards with him.  The entire family was very happy last year when his sister beat him at ping pong the first time she played him.  That has tremendously helped his obnoxiousness at the ping pong table.  Maybe she needs to challenge him to an Uno play off.

Anyway, let’s get back to my post.

We all have little struggles in our lives, whether it be little things like getting up when the alarm goes off, to battling illness and hardship.  I fight a personal battle every year at this time and as of right now, I seem to be winning which makes me very happy.  It is the battle of SAD.

Maybe you’ve heard of the “winter blues”?  Well, the winter blues got its own name in the medical books years ago:  Seasonal Affective Disorder. There are actual physical reasons for it, its not just all in the head.  I fight it every year after Christmas.  It lasts until spring.  I hate it.  I sometimes wish I was a bear so I could just sleep through the winter and skip it.

SAD makes me sad.  My husband says that I get very pale during this time and he calls me Casper.  I have no energy – physical or mental.  I have no interest in wearing make up or fixing my hair unless I am forced to.  My work productivity drops to dangerous levels.  I do not want to exercise, although I can kick my own ass out the door and do it anyway.  It is just a miserable feeling and it lasts for months.

Every year I begin dreading the arrival of SAD right after Christmas.  I try different things (as suggested by the hundreds of magazines I read) to fight the battle.  I change out the light bulbs in the main rooms of our house to the expensive bulbs that are supposed to be like sunlight.  I keep a regular bedtime and wake up time.  I make myself exercise.  I’ve cranked up the space heater in my office to HOT so I won’t be cold.  I give myself pedicures.  I’ve been known to use my tanning lotion to make it seem like summer.  I am serious with this battle.

I am happy to report that so far (knock on wood) the score is me 10, SAD 1.  I am winning the battle!  YAY!  I do realize I still have many weeks to go before I am out of the war zone, but I am going to keep my positive attitude and a bottle of tanning lotion on hand and I am going to fight it.

I am winning the battle of increased mileage in my running.  Yep!  This morning the temperature was 34 with a wind chill of 24.  I was out there.  I did my new 3.31 mile route and made my goal of under 36 minutes.  This is only the third time I’ve run this route. I set the first goal to be achievable and reasonable.  I was so proud to hit the stop button on my watch and see the time of 35:57.

I am ahead in the healthy eating battle.  I have a horrible sugar addiction and I am working hard to stop it.  I can’t say I’ve won that one yet, but I am ahead.  Thank goodness for dark chocolate mint Three Musketeers bars.

I am also ahead in my “stop farting around” battle of time management.  I spend far too much doing nothing.  I had to come up with a strategy and tools to help me in this battle and I’m gaining some ground.  I have to do lists and I have scheduled “farting around” time so that I’m not farting around throughout the day.  I am limiting farting around to certain times.  I’m pumped!

I’m on the path to victory in the attitude department too.  I have a particular area (OK, it’s work related) of my life that I have a really bad attitude about.  I am battling my own bad attitude and reaching out to do a better job and have a better attitude.  I’m ahead in that battle and it makes me feel good.

I still have battles I want to fight.  I’d love to eliminate all negative people from my life but if I did that I’d have to eliminate 95% of my husband’s family and I’m not sure he’d like that.  I’d love to lose that last 10 pounds I’ve been saying I’m going to lose for the past 4 years.  Maybe if I can stay ahead in the sugar battle, I might make some ground. I plan to battle the “stuff” we have accumulated over the past 7 years of living in this house.  We need to clear the clutter in the closets and attic.  That battle is on the horizon.

For someone who claims to be non competitive, I sure am feeling proud and arrogant about my little victories.

Excuses

It is cold.

It is still dark at 6 am.

When it is raining, my clothes get soaked and it is like carrying around 10 extra pounds.

When it is below freezing, the layers are bulky and it is hard to move.

I have made my nose raw from wiping the snot with my gloves.

I have a head cold, I need to rest.

It would be nice to just sleep in a day or so a week.

I seriously need new shoes. 

I haven’t had time to get new shoes.

My shoes are worn out.

My hypochondria is acting up.

The arthritis in my feet bothers me more now.

My back hurts.

My hamstrings have decided to shorten and get painfully tight.

I have other projects I need to work on in the mornings.

It just takes up so much time.

I’m getting older, I may cripple myself.

I have stress incontinence.

It takes so long to find my clothes and get dressed in the mornings.

I don’t feel like laying my clothes out at night.

Did I mention that I have arthritis in my feet?

Those are my excuses.

Starting last Monday, I added a half mile onto all my running routes.  And it feels damn good when I cross my finish line.

Precision

Precision.  I’m not a mechanical engineer nor do I mix complicated chemicals to make life saving medicine.  I am betting that precision in those vocations is really important.

I am not precise in my life and I seem to get along just fine.  OK, there are times I am subjected to precision and I am not so precise that I get all bothered by it.  For example, when I run in a 5K race, the route is precisely 5K and my time is officially recorded in minutes, seconds and tenths of seconds.  That’s pretty darned precise.

Then there was the prep for the colonoscopy, taking precisely 5 pills at a precise time followed by precisely 8 ounces of water.  Ugh.  In most life tasks, I’m not so *ahem* anal.  Bake at 350 for 35 minutes?  The dial on the oven is going to be somewhere between 300 and 400, hopefully close to the middle.  Not precise.  I’ll set the timer for 35, but then I’ll turn it off and leave the goodies in the oven for a few more minutes.

I don’t punch a time clock.  I do, however, like structure so I am in my office between 8:30 and 8:45 each morning.  But don’t pin me down.

Why am I thinking about this today?  It is the first Monday of the year and the news, daytime TV and radio people are all handing out assvice on everything from weight loss to organizing your closet one shoe at a time.  On the way to a meeting this morning, a prominent life coach (wait!  remember that – a LIFE COACH – because we are coming back to that) talked about small changes that can make a big difference.  I was interested.  I like small changes like parking a few spots over at Walmart to get more exercise rather than big changes like my house burning down with all my money under the mattress in the guest room.

In her small changes recommendations, the LIFE COACH said that one could lose 10 pounds per month by eating 100 few calories per day and taking 2000 more steps.

OK, forget the 2000 extra steps.  Let’s talk about consuming 100 fewer calories a day.

Who actually measures PRECISELY how many calories they consume in a day?  I know several diabetics on strict diets and yet none of them count every single calorie to get to a magic number by the end of the day.  I want to know how hard it is to measure and count EVERY. SINGLE. CALORIE.  And why don’t these people have a hobby?

Oh, I understand being on a 2000 calorie a day and preparing foods accordingly, but do you really honestly COUNT them all?  OK, wait a minute, I know some of you are on programs like Jenny Craig and NutriSystem where your meals come in nice little boxes with the calorie count on the front.  But do you know, for absolute certainly that the number of calories listed on the box are PRECISELY the number of calories in the food?  You know there have been segments on 20/20 and Good Morning America about nutrition information being really incorrect.   I think if you are going for the precision it takes to cut out 100 calories, then you cannot possibly trust those unregulated nutritional claims.

Most people I know live normal lives.  They get up, go to work, come home, do stuff they like and then go to bed.  In that mundaneness, they eat meals and snacks.  They do not measure these precisely for caloric value.  Let’s say one of these normal people, like me, says, “OK, I’m going to cut out 100 calories a day. I’ll eat a few less chips with my salsa at lunch and use 4 less crackers in my soup.  I’m done.  Watch the weight melt off me.”

In the course of that decreased chips and cracker day, I may have cereal for breakfast.  Does anyone really measure their cereal serving?  Not the people I know.  We just pour it in the bowl and put milk on it.  Then I’ll have lunch.  I might be typing a blog post and forget how many chips I ate with my salsa.  And hey!  There is a little bit of queso left, I’ll just clean that up.  Mmm..  And because there are few crackers, I eat more of the soup.

My afternoon snack will be fruit and one day it might be a large apple and the next day it might be half pound of grapes.  I might drink milk, I might now.  And supper?  Whatever I feel like cooking.  How do I know I really cut out 100 calories?  Why would I want to stop and measure and count every calorie in every bite of food I took?

Why can’t we just say “get your ass out every night and take a walk.”  It is much easier to estimate how many calories you are burning with exercise.  Maybe we should also point out that a 2 mile run burns about 200 calories, which is a Hershey bar.  Is that Hershey bar worth a 2 mile run?  Not to me.  My assvice is to be sensible.

Is a LIFE COACH sensible?  If a life coach can follow me around and encourage me to do what I’m supposed to do, then I want one.  But my life coach needs to be aggressive, otherwise I might tell her to bug off.  Maybe I need a life drill sergeant.  Someone to follow me around and bark out orders to get me to do what I need to do.  Like eat 100 less calories a day.