Let's Not Kid Ourselves. It's Easy to Bitch. Now How About a Solution?

It's easy to talk. It takes guts and smarts to find workable solutions.

I am soooo tired of people on Facebook, in meetings, in conversations online and in person who are renegades for peace or progress but who never have a proposal to solve the issues they rage about so passionately. Often, their debate is not even peaceful but wrought with anger toward their dissenters...usually after they have opened the floor for what they insist will be a meaningful and fair conversation/debate. But meaningful for who? Are they not just looking for someone with whom to spout off?

Interestingly, whether I agree with the person's point of view or not, I feel the same about it: "It's a great way to turn me off, sweetie, and see that wall over there--you might as well be talking to it. Now, if only that wall had a mirror so you could admire yourself while you present your monologue."

I don't argue that there are many tough conundrums out there plaguing our local and national community. We need conversation. We need awareness raising. But at some point, the crusader and his cause get tuned out if there isn't a suggestion offered to overcome the plight.

And how often have you noticed that these folks are the first to shoot down people who offer baby steps in the right direction? It's usually all or nothing in their eyes. Another great way to estrange people.

So now that Gropius has put it all out there for you, here's my solution: remember we're all people here. When you disagree, do it humanely and you may just find that others are willing to listen. Otherwise, I hear a loud internal buzz when you start talking that masks the words you happen to be speaking in my face.

Inviting all dissenters to comment...

Five Disturbing Trends

1. The web cam. So I have this web cam, right? It’s always off, since it’s reserved for connecting with my brother & his new little family once the baby is born. Although sometimes, there’s this faint red light on it and I swear I didn’t turn it on. Who’s watching me?
   
2. Ketchup. No matter how many times I shake the damn ketchup bottle, that nasty watery stuff still comes out.
   
3. The Rays. I misplaced my supreme gusto for the Rays when they really started losing…like 13 games in a row and then some. I swore I wasn’t a fair weather fan. I still love them, really. Everyone has their down time, boys. But I’m being brutally honest. Am I terrible?
   
4. AFH. Each time I stoop to the level of watching Americas Funniest Home videos (which isn’t often), I find it crazy how many incredibly idiotic entries were actually filmed over 5 years ago…as if the families have been fighting for half a decade to get them exposed among other idiotic videos.
   
5. Annoyed Interrupters. Today someone interrupted something I had scheduled with other members of my team and acted like I was the annoying one for quietly and patiently pausing, waiting for them to leave. This keeps happening. Om, people, I really think you are important, but can’t you respect my time too?

So what disturbing trends do you have to add? I know there's something irking you.

Giving People the Boot

So I heard a hilarious new story from Husband this weekend about why he gave one of his high school girlfriends the boot. I must say, it's truly astonishing that you can still derive new information from the past when you've been married a while.

First and foremost, the girl's name was Regina. (And if you're a Gropius friend, you know we've been laughing for over a month about the city in Canada with this name, pronounced like a female body part. It's come up in the conversation since Matt Holloman's online radio show evidently has a number of followers from this part of the country.)

Anyway.

Husband visited Regina's house after school to discover that her little dog "left doo doo all over the place inside." He couldn't bear to think of her walking across the floor in which the tiny rat terrier had defecated. It was the last time he visited Regina's home, and the last time he spoke with her--after giving her the boot.

I wish I could top that. The only thing that comes close is the time I told a near-stalker that I couldn't go out with him (for the 187th time) because I had to watch a re-run of the Incredible Hulk. FINALLY I got rid of him for good.

What's your story, people? Gropius wants to know.

The Bradentucky Christening

If you guessed this is a partially eaten chocolate creation, you would be right. If you also guessed that Husband was the one who left the teeth marks in place of her left breast, you would also be right. And finally, if you guessed that this little abomination was made by our neighbor's mother for her granddaughter's Christening, you would get a perfect score of 3/3.

Insults to your intelligence aside, my guess is that you probably earned a 2/3 score on this odd quiz. It's been my limited experience that the usual party favors for infants on auspicious occasions are a little more...traditional. You do know that we live in Bradentucky, Florida, right?

P.S. This writing took approximately 5 minutes. The "sort of" chocolate goddess has now vanished and is being digested. Not sure what it tasted like.

The Best of Healthy Intentions

Husband just admitted he was glad when the blueberries fell out of the fridge and scattered all over the floor. It sucks when you spend hard earned money on a good healthy intention--beautiful, anti-oxidant bearing fruits--and they turn out to be bitter. But so good when the lame refrigerator takes care of things before your consciousness cries waste.

Very interesting now that I think about it. My Annie's Goddess dressing always seems to take a spill too. And Husband calls it the "Stinking Egg Dressing." Wonder if that might not be an accident...

So here's the problem: every time we go to the store, we pull one of these lines: "We need to eat healthier. We're going to buy 10, 018 pounds of romaine lettuce, plenty of dressing to jazz up that roughage and enough fresh vegetables to feed Toronto (as long as they're eaten in the next 3 days before they rot)." Then we come home and order a pizza for dinner. And a week later we're cleaning out the "remains of the day."

I feel like an absolute loser for admitting this. Being extra conscious about not wasting and being a good, healthy vegetarian are forefront in my mind. It's seriously bad that we allow this to repeat itself so often. And it's not an excuse, but we're just so beat at the end of the day. Who feels like cooking? Especially when you're a complete kitchen spazz like me and you don't have the slightest interest in cooking or learning to cook.

Lettuce, you say? Oh yeah, all you have to do is wash it. I know, that makes this situation ultra lame.

The Wish List

Husband had neatly laid out his kayaking gear to dry. Milliseconds (I'm sure) before the last bead of moisture was hoisted into the air by the burning sun, the lightening struck and a mini-monsoon began. After just 15 minutes of rain, our street is a river, our yard looks like the Everglades during rainy season, and somewhere off in the oak tree a Mockingbird dares to sing.

With all of the beautiful images we have at arm's length in the ever changing environment of our microcosm in Florida, travel--even just the ongoing idea of it--is one of my favorite money sinks and visualizations to keep motivated. This afternoon, I decided we need a wish list. It's not fashioned in the deeply rooted bucket list style, partitioning out everything we want to accomplish to be whole and satisfied individuals. No. This time, we're in need of a little dreamin'. I'm not ashamed of the unlofty nature of it.

In addition to some specific destinations on the list (Ireland, Costa Rica, and what the hell--another visit to Australia would be nice), I'm adding all of the "things" we talk about on a regular basis that aren't immediately accessible, like aaah, a new kitchen. Husband likes to mentally travel through food preparation, a past time which I don't share and most likely never will. (Getting water to boil is about the extend of my culinary talents.) But it's his thing. I support it fully.

So to be ultra anal about it, I divided the list into "big" things for the next 5 years and smaller ones, those that are attainable in the pretty short term if we set our priorities straight. Already, I'm loving it. When you're clear about what you want instead of randomly announcing it over and over again in an unfocused cloud of half-intention, it'll happen, right?

So Gropius readers, what's on your wish list? Thanks, National Geographic. I did usurp your Ireland photo.

Publix, Where Shopping Was Not a Pleasure

USUALLY shopping at Publix is a pleasure. It's a good company that does a lot philanthropically and most of the time, employs good people that at least pretend to love customers.

But today I felt like saying, "Oh jeez, I'm so sorry I had to bother your important work to order a cake. Let me go, ah, like crawl under a hole or something since I dared to interrupt you."

Brief background: I needed to order this Twitter cake to help my work celebrate the fact that we had reached 1,000 followers. (I know. Don't even start on me.) So the first thing I encounter as I approached the bakery counter is one lady asking another one to go ahead and "take me." She loudly replies, "Like I ain't got anything I'M tryin' to do."

The obvious message: "Welcome to my miserable world of bread and cake hell. I hate your guts because you are stading here. You probably want something stupid."

I won't bore you with the dialogue, but literally, she had a problem with every aspect of the order, from the date I wanted the cake, to the size, to...yeah, the design. I did arrive with several Twitter logos and graphics for the cake. Evidently, it was somewhat complicated and extra annoying of me. My secret hope: that the cake is an absolute fugly disaster. I will have a good submission for Cake Wrecks.

So here's to you, Publix! When customers stand in the way of getting work done, it totally bites.

How 'bout another day? Thank you, Breakfast Club, for the prep.

Remember that scene from the Breakfast Club, where Bender continued to commit himself to extra Saturdays in detention, all because he kept adding the last word? If you need a little refreshing, you'll find it in the last few moments of the clip below (skip ahead to the 3:30 point, or while you're looking, enjoy the entire piece for great memories of these poor incarcerated rebels).

Why am I sharing? The scene played itself out once again in our house this morning. It's so easy to get worked up, isn't it? Sometimes you just want to win the tween-parent argument.

Me: "Please just do what your father said. And please don't cop an attitude, or you'll be grounded. I'm tired of the attitude."

Tweenager: "But! This is STUPID. I don't want to do it."

Me: "Okay, so you're grounded this afternoon."

Tweenager: "Lkjoiuaseroncoisueroijsen!" (or a similar crazy mumbling)

Me: "So now you'll be grounded tomorrow afternoon too."

Tweenager: "I didn't DO ANYTHING. Ghhhaaaaad."

Me: "Om. Do you want to add on another day?"

Aunt Flo & Ovarian Cancer: Somethin' Funny & Somethin' Serious

Did you know that 22,000 women will be diagnosed with ovarian cancer this year? Scary. Seventh Generation is donating $22,000 to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund, but they need you to help. Check out their "Let's Talk Period" campaign but visit with Aunt Flo before you leave---she's hilarious.

The $5 Non-Science Germ-O-Rama

I honestly don't know what I thought when I suggested we go to $5 admission Saturday at the Museum of Science and Industry, when it also happened to be raining like a monsoon and past noon.

Yes, nearly every person with at least 3 kids from Tampa Bay and beyond was there. Yes, it was a complete germ-o-rama. And yes, it felt more like an arcade than a science museum.

Running, yelling from all sides. On each and every "hands-on" exhibit, rampant knob turning, trigger-finger button pressing, wheel spinning and incessant screen tapping. Of course, to my horror--and I assume to every staff member's horror--absolutely no reading or learning whatsoever was taking place. Never mind the human body, magnetism, space science or earth science which these exhibits were supposed to convey.

I need a stress massage after this experience. And a hot, anti-bacterial shower. And someone to wipe the last 3 hours from my memory. Except for the part about how I never want to go back there again under these conditions. (Not to give you the wrong idea; it is most likely a very cool place on different sort of day.) On the bright side, I can now walk in the backyard without drowning. The rain must have slowed down during our time in the Romper Room.

Please, let the good inner dialogue conquer all.

Good Gropius: I am so grateful to have all of the things I have in my life, like a job and all of the millions of commitments in my weekly life.

Bad Gropius: Dude. I'm totally ready for a change--like, I've had it up to here. And "here" is 4,562 feet up in the air. I am SO over it.



Good Gropius: It's so nice to see everyone getting a chance, even when I'm completely getting a reeking end of the stick.

Bad Gropius: What the f is going on here? It's completely not fair that this is happening. Good Gropius, you're a complete idiot for putting up with it.



Good: Truly, it's wonderful to see the beautiful rain returning to the earth to restore the balance of water for our living creatures.

Bad: Is it really going to rain the whole damn weekend? I spent the last 5 days inside, slaving away, and now that I can enjoy the great outdoors, look at what happens.



Good: Things may seem super annoying now, but it's all part of the plan. Just relax and know that everything happens for a reason.

Bad: Are you freaking serious, Good Gropius? Get a life.

My Life Is About to Change...

Yes, folks, very soon my entire life will revolve around baseball. We have just signed up D-Man to play on the Fall team. The practices, games and coach talk will most likely consume the time our family spends on work, bitching about work, volunteer stuff and wrangling with annoying teachers who refer us to websites instead of returning our calls and e-mails.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for the young man and have to smile at the time he spent wandering around the house last weekend wearing batting gloves and his helmet while swinging ONE of the new bats...thankfully not breaking any windows or picture frames.

But it's not quite the same as it used to be--as in, a check for $25 to get on the team and buy in to the equipment. The current $125 registration fee covers a t-shirt and ball cap. You get to buy a bat, baseball glove, pants, batting gloves, shoes and bag to put all of the stuff in. We're $300 into it and haven't purchased the shoes yet.

Sweet Peter, I hope this isn't like the guitar--the allure of saying you play it or do it is soooo much more attractive than the work you have to put into it. Once there's a realization of required effort, it's bye bye birdie. We've been there before.

Once I tried to take up knitting. After buying the nerdy supplies and trying for several hours, I was like, Christ, it's totally okay that I buy clothes and blankets. Thank goodness my investment hovered around $17.

A Little Beach Etiquette

I love visiting a funny but sooo on the money blog about etiquette every now and then. The blogger is in the heartland, and so I thought I would supplement with a little beach etiquette for you folks, coming straight from an experience today and ones earlier this summer.

(If you're in Florida, you know that good beach weather doesn't exactly end on Labor Day--you've got 3 more months to enjoy 80 degrees before it chills down to 70 for a few weeks.)

Here's what is totally NOT cool on the beach...

1. Pulling your obnoxious boat so close to the beach that you nearly run over 3 swimming children, then turning your music up so loud that you're probably disturbing the same whales affected by the Navy's sonar.
   
2. Okay, let me back up. ANY music on the beach is pretty annoying if others can hear it. I know you may debate me on this point, but what if I don't like your crappy tunes? Soooo inconsiderate.
   
3. Taking your drinks in the water and burying the cans in the sand instead of throwing them away. "Um, I can't BELIEVE you just did that," was my exact thought. When we saw this happen, Husband went in the water, retrieved them through some careful toe-sand connections and heaved them back on the beach blanket belonging to the offender. Can't believe we didn't get killed, but we did head for the car in a few mins.
   
4. Heaving yourself on passing manatees like they are floatation devices. Yes, we have actually seen entire crowds of people doing this. It's not only not anti-beach etiquette, but it's against the freaking law!!! Stay off our threatened and endangered wildlife people. If manatees had teeth, they would kick the daylights out of any Hollywood produced Jaws scene.

I feel like good manners are common sense. If you're doing something that is disturbing others or causing harm, for the love of Pete, STOP IT.

Sure, I can benefit from the science project.

The dreaded science fair project is upon us once again. And although we never, ever do work for our young offspring, we do provide guidance. We realize that the seemingly simple act of selecting that damn topic for the science project can either...

1. result in months of messy resentment over the needless complexity and pointlessness of the project or
2. inspire our son to become a brain surgeon, rocket scientist or physics professor.

It's always been #1, but who's counting?

I started thinking about some scientific inquiries that are just driving me crazy, and well, why the hell not see if I can make this whole thing work for me? Here's a short list of science projects that would benefit humanity--I mean sanity, my sanity:

• What kills a plant the fastest, living at Gropius' home or living at Gropius' office? And part B of that...Why, as a super environmentalist, do I always manage to kill my plants by over or under watering?
  
• What is more annoying: having someone show up in your office without an appointment to engage in endless dialogue about an issue you can neither help with or understand, right when you are in the middle of a major deadline OR accidentally getting in the grocery store check line with the person who makes comments about your groceries?
  
• What infinitesimal amount of sunlight is required to form one of the new 5,456 freckles that emerge each summer on my skin?
  
• What contributes to the greatest gain in mass: one trip to Pablano's Mexican Restaurant or eating cupcakes everyday for a week?

Am I missing any good ones?

Blackmail: I Miss The Office

Now the Teacher Thinks I'm a Freak

We're really excited about D-Man's world geography class this year--it's actually a bit more like a current world events course. His teacher uses unconventional teaching methods and really gets the students charged up about important issues shaping the people and places in this not so unconnected world of ours.

So of course we're eager to do what ever we can to show Teach how, at home, we encourage knowledge and awareness of things far beyond the back doors in America.

Today Teach was discussing the Everglades, and when she asked the class to name the unique flora and fauna there, D-Man raised his hand to contribute an answer that will forever frame me unfavorably in the first impressions of Teach. The first part of his answer was: "The Skunk Ape."

HE THEN proceeded to tell the class about how "my mother [that's me] once made a trip to the Everglades just to visit this place all about the skunk ape that also teaches people about it."

Unfortunately, that story is true. And it was a total joke of a trip--I REPEAT, it was a fun trip. AND, although I would never admit this in certain company, yes, I know the skunk ape does not exist. I really do. I have never thought for one moment it exists. (But Big Foot, it could be a different story...)

Um. I'm pretty embarrassed. And it's one of those things that I would only make worse with that little phone call I considered:

• "Ahhh, Teach, this is D-Man's mother. I just wanted to call and...well anyway, about that Skunk Ape thing my son mentioned...I just didn't want you to think...I mean, I'm really not crazy...It was more like a joke..."

Yeah. That might make things slightly worse.