Don’t Be Disagreeable (dis-uh-gree-uh-BULL)

20121102-074848.jpgI just noticed that the end of the word disagreeable is BULL! How funny (and ironic) is that?

I read my timeline on Facebook and have concluded that half of my friends disagree with me and the other half, well, the other half do, too.

You see, social media has made it easy to perpetuate lies. And, I mean lies on both sides. The lies are presented to allow someone to justify being disagreeable.

But, I’m here to say, being disagreeable is not a lofty goal.

Since we now have a 24 hour news cycle, each hour on a cable news channel has some news but what you are really watching is opinion with a sprinkle of news. Again, on both sides.

Remember the “funny saying” years ago “I read it in the newspaper, it must be true!”?

Now we hear: “I read/heard/watched it in/on the newspaper/radio/Internet/cable news show, it must be true,”

How is it we have allowed strangers who are in many cases no smarter (or even better informed) than we are to whip up such frenzy?

We all bring our own opinions, perspective and, dare I say, prejudice to every decision we make.

Here is my desperate plea: be passionate about what you believe in. Take ten minutes a day to read/listen/watch the dissenting opinion. Give those with whom you disagree the same respect you would hope for yourself.

Practice the art of disagreement without being disagreeable.

Oh, and one more thing…


Have a yummy day!


Is a Temper Tantrum a Form of Prayer?



I think the only thing more controversial thing to talk about than politics is religion.

This post is not about politics.

Then again, it’s not really about religion, either. It’s about faith.

I have had a few more than my share of challenging glass not so full moments recently.

I miss my mother-in-law a whole lot. She may have been over the top but she had a heart of gold and loved me without reserve. She left us a few months ago and left a huge gap.

I miss my son a whole lot. Soon after his grandmother passed away he moved to New York City for a fabulous job at a Big Four accounting firm. It warms my heart that he misses me, too but doesn’t change the mist in my eyes when I think about it.

I miss my administrative associate a whole lot. My long time assistant transferred out of my department for a full time position somewhere else on campus. She was amazing and allowed me to do my work without worrying about hers. You don’t realize how much that means to you until it’s gone. She was replaced temporarily with another woman with a huge amount of institutional knowledge but was redeployed last month. So, now I’m doing one and a half jobs…woohoo!!

I know I’m not alone. A lot of my friends and family are going through similar things…aging parents, grown children and work place turmoil. But knowing you are not alone is sometimes not enough.

Yesterday was a turning point for me. It started with a bang and didn’t let up until I finally fell asleep (with the help of an allergy med and a PM).

At one point in the day, after several different negative experiences I banged my hand on the desk so hard I needed ice to sooth the damage. Several colleagues suggested that throwing things is a better outlet…perhaps so but I think the mom in me overturned that idea because I would have had to clean up the mess, adding to the indignity.

So, after getting the ice and writing two separate emails (which I am proud to report I deleted after reading them) I decided to take a walk to the chapel on campus.

My glass may have been half full but the holes in the bottom prevented me from seeing it. I’m not sure what I expected to find there. I honestly don’t. But I knew I needed to do something at least tangible to me that would break the fall.

As I approached the beautiful building I saw several people walking out. Oh dear God, I just wanted to be alone…

As fate would have it, I was alone when I entered. I walked up to the front pew and sat down. Never once while I was in that acoustically perfect church did I say a pray, at least not the prayers we chant mindlessly during Mass. No Hail Mary, no Lord’s Prayer…nothing but my own words, said through tears.

At one point I panicked because I thought someone was in there. I’ve sung in this church many times and it has perfect architectural amplification. A microphone is totally unnecessary. My own pleas where audible throughout.

Oh God, what if someone hears me?

Oh God, what if He does not?

Both of those thoughts gave me pause. I sat still and stopped crying. I dried my face on my coat sleeves.

I sat still waiting for something. Anything. My breathing restored to a reasonable calm.

Oh God, what if someone hears me? I’m in church. So what. People pray there, right? Isn’t a temper tantrum a form of prayer? Think about that one for a second. Replace any words during any tantrum with please help me and there you have it…a prayer.

Oh God, what if He does not? Really? How could I believe that for any second. He will hear me. Will I be open to His answer?

Then it happened. I didn’t want to believe it for a moment but the sound was undeniable. When it happened again I had to acknowledge it.

It was a text message from my husband. “Just let it roll off your back.”

Now I’m not suggesting to you my husband is God…no, not at all. But isn’t that message well timed if not divine?

“Just let it roll off your back.”

Ok, I responded. I put the phone back into my pocket, bought myself a coffee and donut (chocolate glazed) and walked back to my office. I only took a few bites of the donut and threw it away. I didn’t need it anymore.

I figured out what to do on my walk. I shared my thoughts with the people who needed to hear them, brushed myself off and went home.

Today the actual situation here is unchanged but I am completely ready to deal with it.

All because of my prayer through tantrum.

You will never know how honored I am you just read this. Have a blessed (and yummy) day.