Author Archives: So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

About So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

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I'm a bookworm, nature lover, kick-boxer, candy fiend, sci fi geek, home body, progressive Christian and part-time student. I love my crazy life and the messy, fun, stubborn, silly, brilliant people who populate it.
April 16, 2012

How Do You Find The Time?

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

It’s a question I’ve asked many times. I ask people who garden, people who decorate their homes, people who floss… How do you find the time?

It’s also the most frequent question I get about blogging. How do you find the time? The answer is simple.

You don’t.

Time does not spontaneously appear when you say the magic words. (Unless they happen to be “we-don’t-really-need-TSN-in-our-house”, because I’m sure my husband’s free time would grow exponentially at that point.)

Time is a limited resource, and often one that feels out of our control. I’ve always admired those buttoned up, disciplined souls who manage their time with military precision. I’m an orderly person, but trying to emulate them leaves me exhausted, cranky and desperately unhappy. Usually I find myself somewhere in the middle – enough routine to keep life moving, but margins for the unexpected (and the occasional hour of blissful uselessness).

Whether you wing it from one moment to the next, or plan your day down to the minute, we are all subject to the same limitations.

86,400 seconds

1,440 minutes

24 hours

Each day, everyday, it’s all we’ve got.

I’ve said it before and it bears repeating. In this day and age, we can do almost anything, but we can’t do everything!

When I choose to make something a priority, then I am going to have to sacrifice somewhere else. The older I get, the more comfortable I am with this necessity. No one has it all together – even if they look the part. Look at Martha Stewart. She has a large, talented staff and a bazillion dollars to help her get things done. But even she drops the occasional ball along the way. Her foray into white collar crime wasn’t terribly successful.

This is why my backyard looks like the set of Jurrasic Park. Who decided grass was the superior weed anyway? Dandelions are cheerful and prolific, plus my kids love them. This is also why I have boxes of pictures in the garage, not from our most recent move, but from the one before that nine years ago. I’m honestly working on the flossing thing. My brother-in-law is training to be a dentist and I don’t want him to know that I’ve had five cavities in the last year. Shhhhhh.

You don’t find time for the things that matter to you, you make it. In my busy life stage, this tends to be in bite-sized pieces scattered throughout the day. We pray in the van on the way to school. While driving, I’ve also found time to discuss important issues with my kids – like sex, work ethic, the value of money and whether American Idol is better with or without Simon Cowell. I talk on the phone while I fold laundry. I write my blog posts anytime, anywhere… there are notebooks all over my house, in my purse, in the car. I have written entire posts in blue crayon, because that was all I had at the time.

This is my very first blog post.
Written in my daughter's My Little Pony colouring book.

Right now:

Mount Clean Laundry is mocking me from atop my bed.

Life-Span in Human Development is taunting me from the kitchen table.

I can hear echoes of crucial sibling posturing in the hallway.

So here’s me, quite happily blogging away. THIS is how I find the time.

How do you find the time to do what matters to you? What are you willing to sacrifice?

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in creativity, home-making

April 13, 2012

Friday Favourites 15

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

It’s been getting pretty schmaltzy up in here lately. In a good way, definitely. We’ve got all sorts of deep and wonderful and, frankly, emotionally exhausting life changes on the menu (My Little Possibility).

So, I’m even happier than usual to take a break from the profound to offer a bunch of random stuff I think is cool.

I’m not going to lie, it took me a while to figure out this quote, but it was worth it!

Quote

Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day.

Give a fish a man, and he’ll eat for weeks!

– Takayuki Ikkaku

Music Video

This cover of Gotye’s Somebody That I Used to Know by Walk Off the Earth is AMAZING!

5 people on one guitar, at the same time. I really love the guy on the end. He’s definitely taking his job seriously.

Walk Off the Earth

Blog

There’s something about Amalah… the sarcasm, the self-deprecation, the mommy jokes, or maybe the general snarkiness, that just tickles my funny bone (usually with the liberal use of profanity, so be warned). I’ve eagerly read posts about breast-feeding and newborn supply lists, though I am not now, nor ever will be again in that phase of life – because if she writes it, I enjoy it. I initially found her because she is also parenting a child with special needs and her posts on these topics are funny AND touching. Read The Friendship Jungle, really, go read it, right now.

Book

In a turn for the more serious, I’ve been reading Living the Questions: Making Sense of the Mess and Mystery of Life by Carolyn Arends this week. Mostly because they didn’t have the book I was REALLY looking for at the library and I have always considered her an excellent songwriter/poet. I’m so glad they didn’t have that other book; this has been a wonderful discovery. She discusses what she refers to as this “preposterous optimism I’ve come to recognize as faith” through stories of her life which sound so very familiar to me. Everything she writes has a poetry to it.

I know she lives nearby… I’m considering tracking her down so I can force friendship bracelets and commitments of lifelong friendship out of her. Or possibly to stare at her in a creepy, starstruck manner. Which do you think she’d prefer? Cause I want her to LIKE me.

App

I’m going to round out this post with a good-for-you app.

If you consider yourself a modern-day abolitionist, as in, someone who is opposed to slavery, forced and child labour (and really, what kind of evil douche isn’t?), then this app from the Not For Sale Campaign is for you.

Free2Work rates major companies and brands on their labour practices throughout the supply chain. Each company is given a letter grade, then an explanation based on certain criteria (like a report card of sorts). It is a work in progress; apparently, you will one day be able to scan a bar code in and get information on that company.

Consumers have POWER. We can use that to do good and still get what we want/need. With minimal hassle, I can open this app and see what brands are more responsible and then reward them with my business. For instance, next time I’m buying a birthday present I will choose Lego (with a B) over Zhu Zhu Pets (who have a dismal F). Not a big deal for me, but if we were all to do it, it would send a very clear message.

So here’s me, not exactly a William Wilberforce, or a conductor on the underground railway, but abolitionist in my heart.

My daughter disagrees. Apparently $5 for an evening of babysitting is not a “living wage”. BTW thanks ever so much for teaching her that term Uncle Ben.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in favourites

April 12, 2012

My Little Possibility

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Today you are a possibility.

Not even a probability.

A might.

A maybe.

A hope for what could be.

A month ago, I didn’t see you coming. After almost 3 years of waiting and wondering, we were ready to throw in the towel. I was finally prepared to give you up.

“Time to dream new dreams,” I said. I told myself I was ready to stop treading water. It was time to get on with my life. We considered telling them to count us out entirely. But some small shred of hope said, “what can it hurt?”

But I thought it was done. I grieved for you, my little possibility. There were tears and anger and numb acceptance. Some days I didn’t think of you at all. But every time I thought I had put you behind me, the cycle would start again.

It wasn’t pretty.

I choked on the hurt when mother and infant sat in front of us at church. I forced myself to pack up the baby toys, but I couldn’t give them away. The box is still there on the shelf. I put off meeting with an academic advisor or committing to a major. As much as I am enjoying school, it is not what I want to be doing right now.

I started praying again, like I used to during the dark days. Not out of routine, but because I need to. To get through the day. To keep my emotions in check. To remember how much I have been given. This is one good thing about grief. I am never closer to God than during times like these.

I knew it would take a long time to forget.

Then we got an unexpected email from our social worker. And you appeared on the horizon. But we had been there before and nothing had come of it. We threw our hat in the ring and carried on with life.

Then we heard from YOUR social worker. And the speculation begins… what exactly does “very excited about a possible match” mean? Did she say “very”? What percentage of possible are we talking? We have so many questions.

For the first time you have a name. There is a lot to be done. We have to know and understand and make sure that we are the right family for you. And so do they.

I am trying, desperately trying, to play it cool. Is it possible to be cool if you have to desperately try for it?

Because I want to bring you home. I want snips and snails and puppy dog tails. I want happily ever happy. I even want messy, difficult, overwhelming reality. As long as you can be mine.

So here’s me, praying that our little possibility will someday be our son.

13 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in adoption

April 10, 2012

The Voices in My Head

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

My very first mentor was my Dad’s little sister, my “Auntie Omi”. She was there the day I was born. I was there the day she died.

She stepped in when I was only a zygote and wrote herself into my story. When my Dad was sent out-of-town on business, she stayed. She was the one who drove my Mom to the hospital. She was there when I was born. I could always count on her.

She was my unofficial tour guide to life. Whether it was letting me watch Grizzly Adams and Dukes of Hazzard when my parents didn’t have TV, or taking me to visit her office, she opened up a whole new world to me. She taught me my first joke and then listened patiently while I told it to her 5 million times over the next year. It was only slightly more sophisticated than the chicken crossing the road. It goes something like this:

Why did the fireman wear red suspenders?

To keep his pants up!

ha ha ha ha ha ha…

…ahhhh, good stuff!

When I was a teenager, she did something amazing and totally crazy. She adopted a child. A single women adopting an older child from the foster care system is spelled R-A-D-I-C-A-L, no matter where you come from. But it’s an awesome brand of crazy! It’s also spelled B-R-A-V-E and C-O-M-P-A-S-S-I-O-N-A-T-E.

My aunt was flesh and blood altruism. Her journey was a lot messier, more confusing and more exhausting than she (or any of us) were prepared for. My cousin was 8 when she joined our family, and it was quite a ride for both of them. Watching my aunt learning to love her daughter did me more good than the hundreds of sermons I’ve heard in my life. She wasn’t perfect, but she was faithful and committed. She was a great mom. You could always count on her.

Even as an adult she looked out for me. When we moved halfway across the country, she started sending our family care packages of totally random things she had found in thrift stores or antique markets: a set of tea towels, a weird night-light, blank video tapes, socks, a ceramic bird… Just between you, me, and the entire internet, I didn’t need any of this stuff. Sometimes I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it. But I loved those weird packages just the same. It was her way of looking out for us. I knew she was thinking about me.

She gave the toast to the bride at my wedding, and I gave the toast to the bride at hers. I dressed all three of my daughters in fluffy blue dresses so they could precede her down the aisle. At a young fifty-something years old, she had finally met the love of her life.

It’s a beautiful story, plus now I can honestly say that “Bob’s my uncle”, which is just as funny years later as when I first said it (obviously my sense of humor hasn’t matured much since the fireman’s suspenders). My girls referred to them as “the bride and her prince”. They were so happy together and it breaks my heart that their time together was so short. Life, and especially death, just isn’t fair!

As I wrote the eulogy for her funeral 2 years ago, I realized that I had, more often than not, written it in the present tense. My aunt is brave, she has a great sense of humour… As I went back to change everything into the past tense it occurred to me – she still is. She still is all those things and more. Like her, I trust the promise that heaven is a place where weaknesses fall away and we fully become our true selves.

I’m not exactly sure what the afterlife will be like; none of us know, really. But I do know that my Aunt loved God faithfully all her life. The bible talks about us having a great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 11), and I can’t imagine anyone better suited to watch over us, pray for us and cheer us on. She was always taking care of us. It’s what she did best, and we miss her terribly.

My memories of my aunt may grow hazy as the years go by, but I will never forget who she was. I know I am a better person for all her support and her example. Her death was a terrible blow. But I did not lose her, not really. She is one of the voices in my head. Because our best mentors never leave us.

So here’s me, knowing someday I will be the voice in someone else’s head. I hope I have a Scottish accent.

Who are the voices in your head? What kind of things do they whisper to you?

4 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , , | posted in grief, spiritual

April 6, 2012

Good Friday Favourites

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

Today is the most somber holiday in the Christian calendar. So my usual sarcastic, irreverent Friday post doesn’t seem like the thing to do.

If you are not familiar with the story, here it is in a nutshell.

God creates humanity. Humanity rejects God. God reaches out to humanity over and over and over again. Humanity rejects God over and over and over again. It’s kind of our thing.

God becomes human (Jesus, God the Son, is born. Merry Christmas). Jesus reaches out to humanity. Humanity rejects him. In fact, humanity strips him naked, beats him up, and kills him.

This is the part where you almost expect the giant Hand of God (a la Monty Python) to reach down and smite us all, smite us good. Instead, God the Father lets his Son die, because that was the plan all along. He was the ultimate sacrifice – the blood ransom to free us from a prison of our own making.

The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin

so that he’d see life come from it

– life, life, and more life.

Isaiah 53:10

Whatever you believe about Jesus or Christianity, this day is for all humanity. Yes, it is serious, but worth celebrating. So, here are some of my Good Friday Favourites.

Quote

This Word played life against death and death against life in tournament on the wood of the most holy cross, so that by his death he destroyed our death, and to give us life he spent his own bodily life. With love, then, he has so drawn us and with his kindness so conquered our malice that every heart should be won over.  Catherine of Siena

Blog

My friend Marc makes an important, spiritually powerful point. “Pontius Pilate is a pylon.” And how! Here is a post about the guy who just stood there and let it all happen: Pilatitus. Definitely worth a read, because sometimes we’re just like him.

Also, Laura Ziesal wrote a post that has stuck with me this week. “We serve a God who is not far from our pain.” Though Good Friday is not the main topic, My Least Favourite Day of the Year speaks to it in a powerful way, especially for anyone who has lost a child.

Liturgical Tradition

Don’t tell my Anabaptist ancestors, but occasionally I have a hankering for liturgy and the rituals of High Church. Yep, I’m pretty sure my Grandpa is spinning in his grave right now.

There is a richness and ancient meaning behind centuries old traditions. If I were going to pick one which appeals to me most, it would be Via Crucis, the Stations of the Cross. Whether it is a series of art displayed throughout a cathedral, an interactive physical experience or simply a devotional guide, each of the stations depicts a different part of the Good Friday story. Usually there are thoughts and prayers to meditate on at each station. Remembering is not something that just happens, it is something we do on purpose.

Pray through the Stations of the Cross online.

Video

It seems kind of douche-y to have a “favourite” part of Good Friday, since it’s all very grim and painful. But the time Jesus spent in the Garden of Gethsemane is what I am finding most meaningful lately. It hits me every time… Jesus did not eagerly skip to the cross with a serene smile on his face and a cheesy hymn on his lips . He struggled, he cried, he felt the bitterness of grief, and he begged for reprieve. Kind of encouraging for those of us who do not always find God’s will easy to stomach. It also makes his ultimate choice that much more meaningful.

Mel Gibson may be an enormous schmuck, but he did a great job dramatizing spiritual agony (not exactly the most visual concept) in Passion of the Christ.

So here’s me, forgiven, because He was forsaken. Take that creepy snake-satan!

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in favourites, holiday, spiritual

April 5, 2012

Seek and Ye Shall Find: Google Me

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

WordPress keeps track of all the terms people type into their search engine which lead them to this blog. Apparently some of my readers have found me in very UNconventional ways. Here are a few of the weirdest, silliest and most perplexing:

impact of the thermos in society

What is most amazing to me, is that this term has been used not once, not twice, but three times. Clearly, it is a hot research topic. Who knew? (Insert comment about people who have WAY too much time on their hands)

raccoon writing, raccoon from the back, raccoon story and rascal raccoon

You mention ONE raccoon ONCE and it follows you the rest of your life!

stripper punctuation matters

Of course it does. There’s nothing worse than a grammatically incorrect pole dance. Total turn off.

boy enjoying on bicycle

I’m not sure what he’s enjoying on bicycle or why. And I don’t want to know.

tax free smarties

Let us overthrow the burdensome taxation of these, our most delicious of treats. How long must we struggle under the heavy yoke of governmental greed? Smartie Eaters of the world Unite!

tattooed garbageman yonkers

What the what?

airplane vomit clean up

Sadly, this one makes sense to me.

good morning. there’s a shit in the hallway

Also this one, if you can believe it. My life is incredibly glamorous.

married swingers nudists

Ummm… this is a recurring theme when it comes to search terms. I may have written one short post about swingers and another about nudists, but it’s really not that big of a thing for me. Not my thing anyway. I’m pretty sure they’re all disappointed with what they find here. Monogamy anyone?

AND the most frequent Search Engine Term to find my blog: don’t like me quotes

They don’t like me, they really don’t like me!

So here’s me, seeing what amazing blogs I can find by typing in random words.

“cayenne pepper snot dance” brought me to this sinus remedy video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtYTgR-Pmss&feature=player_embedded#!

“scratch car tooth” found an interesting article on fixing car scratches with toothpaste which I may actually have to use. Sorry honey. http://lifehacker.com/5694247/use-toothpaste-to-fix-car-body-and-headlight-scratches

“nose picking blanket vacation” unearthed a list of “The Most Embarrassing Travel Gear” including a blanket to use on the airplane in which only your nose sticks out (not only discouraging chatty seatmates, but for ease of picking access) http://www.independenttraveler.com/blog/?p=522

Tip: don’t use words that are in any stretch of the imagination sexy or phallic (like pickle), unless you have a really great net nanny.

3 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in media

April 2, 2012

Honouring our Dead

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

I love the Haka. It is a ferocious tribal dance with chest slapping, googly eyes and aggressive tongue wagging. The uglier the face, the better. It is loud and angry. It is awesome.

During our visit to the Polynesian Cultural Center a couple of weeks ago, we had a chance to take part in a Maori ceremony. As visitors arrived in the village, both the hosts and visitors took part in an elaborate welcoming ritual. There were women singing, men grunting and posturing… the New Zealand version of “please come in, can I take your coat?”

My favourite part took place at the end: before crossing the midline to meet one another, both groups paused for a moment in complete silence. It is a time to honour the dead. It is a time to remember those who should be here but aren’t, those who came before and those who have gone ahead.

A few days later, we found ourselves at Pearl Harbor. Yet another foreign culture, when you consider both my Canadian-ness and my Anabaptist roots.

It was chilling, standing above the watery tomb of hundreds of young men. The rusty turret of the U.S.S Arizona peaks out of the water. More than a thousand died there. Most of the bodies were never recovered.

Even the girls were quiet and contemplative, though B was mostly upset because we would not let her throw her hat in the water.

This large, elaborate memorial shuttles thousands of people in and out with the efficiency of a popular tourist attraction. Most of us came to check it off the list – yep, been there, seen that.

I love to walk in the footsteps of history, to see the places where my reality was born and reborn. The BIG picture was affected here.

But it was more. This was about the small pictures too. Here lies one life. And another. And another. And another… We honour each one, each name inscribed on that wall.

I can’t help but think this is something we are missing in our culture. Not necessarily the elaborate tribal ritual or the impressive concrete ediface, but memorial woven into the fabric of everyday life.

We are studying Death and Dying in my Developmental Psychology class this week. The western theory of Grief Work promotes the idea that detachment from the deceased is a healthy final stage in the process. In fact, those who continue a relationship with those they mourn may be considered unnaturally preoccupied.

These theorists are the same who approach all grief as a pathology, rather than a normal part of life. Sure, there are those who succumb to a chronic, unhealthy grief. But recent research supports the idea that continued bonds with the dead, especially those who were a vital part of our lives, is beneficial.

The bible says we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses (Heb 12:1). The souls of those who came before us. Those who have gone ahead. And they are watching.

These are the ones who built the scaffolding of our lives. If we forget the lessons they have taught us and the sacrifices they have made, we forget who we are.

“I am a seed that was sown from the past and I shall never be lost.” ~ Maori saying

We do not worship our ancestors as ancient tribes once did, but we must honour them. In remembering, we are telling our own story. Not just to the world, but to ourselves and our children. And someday we will be a part of their story.

So here’s me: grand-daughter of Doris, Robert and William, niece of Naomi, mother of Noah and Simon.

How do you honour your dead? How can we make memorial part of our everyday life?

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in grief, spiritual

March 30, 2012

Friday Favourites 13

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

This week I’m passing on a few things I found through FaceBook. Which reminds me, Canada is now phasing out the penny (thanks for the scoop Eric). What did we do without FB?

FaceBook is a complicated issue. I love it. I hate it. I connect with my friends and family where I used to drift apart. It sucks away my time. It makes me laugh and inspires me. It reminds me of the quote below.

Quote

“One reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with other people’s highlight reel.” Grace Marshall

Blog

King David is one of my favourite bible characters. Not because of his great triumphs, but because he is so messy and brilliant and screwed up and REAL. I love writers who embody that earthy realness, yet inspire me to rise above it. Tamara Out Loud is one the best examples of this. I used to be jealous of this lady I’d never met, because my husband raved about her brilliant writing, insight and humour. Then I started reading myself and was hooked.

This may not be for everyone, so heed the advice on her “Be Warned” page:

“If any of the words in the following sentence  offend you,

consider turning back now:

This blog sometimes gets all Jesus-y and shit.”

YouTube Clip

I’m a sucker for a “don’t judge the book by its cover” story. It’s cliché. It’s been done. And it gets me every time.

Jonathan and Charlotte

TV Show

I wasn’t going to watch this. I mean, the movie was okay, but it didn’t really seem like a great set up for an ongoing show. But as I was sitting on the couch with my sexy roommate (aka hubby) I couldn’t help but overhear. And now I’m hooked. The ongoing plot is twist-y and complex, but each episode can stand alone. Do-gooder lawyer who goes above and beyond the system to make things right.

Eat your heart out Tom Cruise!

Book

My kindle broke on the final page of this book during our holiday. Game of Thrones has become a huge hit – the book, the graphic novel, the t.v. series… I talked to a few people who liked it. Knights and ladies, strange creatures and ancient kingdoms, plus there’s a map at the beginning. I love books that start with a map. I’m kind of a nerd that way.

It drew me in. It is well written and interesting, but brutal. If you are looking for something sweet and romantic, read something else. The characters here are complex and often disturbing. There are no good guys and bad guys, only bad and less bad; which makes the moments of nobility shine brighter.

The real downside – I uploaded all 4 books onto my kindle, so I’m left hanging. Grrrr.

So here’s me, with a blank kindle and a dead microwave. Technology, you’ve really let me down this week!

2 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in favourites

March 29, 2012

Do Unto the Telemarketers…

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

So, I’m kind of a grump these days. I picked up a head cold then hopped on 3 red-eye flights with my weary kids. My ears very nearly exploded and I didn’t sleep for almost 40 hours. Also, I am no longer a few steps away from a spectacular beach and a poolside bar serving over-priced (but delicious) daquiris. Woe is me.

I blame the crankiness for my snarky post yesterday (Modern Day Torture, aka The Timeshare Presentation). I won’t apologize for everything I said, because timeshare presentations are universally acknowledged as a painful test of financial resolve and politeness. But I feel bad for denigrating the salespeople.

It is honest work and I have to respect that.

In fact, I kind of have a thing about it. I am prepared to drag one of my most dreadful skeletons out of the closet. It’s not something I share with many people (until I got a blog and lost all sense of privacy and self preservation apparently).

Brace yourself.

I once worked as a telemarketer.

I know. Not my finest hour. To be fair, I was only 17. The money was AWESOME and I didn’t actually have to sell anything. I simply called to set up a complimentary lawn assessment from a highly qualified lawn care specialist. It was free of charge and absolutely no obligation.

It was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I had no idea that perfect strangers could be SO mean. I didn’t even mind the hang ups, but I couldn’t understand the bitter, hateful rants. I was just doing my job. Would they prefer I was out there looting convenience stores or stealing car stereos?

If I happened to come across an out of service number, I would call it over and over again, to buy myself sometime to recover. I left in tears every evening.

With my father’s admonitions about work ethic and stick-to-itiveness ringing in my ears, I returned not once, but twice before throwing in the towel. It was the first time I quit something since my nasty piano teacher pushed me too far (my mom thought I was exaggerating until she decided to take lessons in my place and the mean old lady brought her to tears also).

The golden rule applies to everyone, no matter how obnoxious their profession. I need to treat people considerately, even telemarketers, door to door solicitors, timeshare salesmen, mimes, and even squeegee kids.

It’s hard having a job like that annoys and offends almost everyone, believe me. If nothing else, we can respect their work ethic and value them as people. I’m still figuring out firm, but polite. I don’t need to listen to the whole spiel and I’m not going to buy, just to be nice, but I do need to be nice.

It’s a sneaky way to measure what is really in my heart. How do I treat the JWs who come to my door during dinner? What do I say to the telemarketer who calls in the middle of my favourite show? What is my reaction when people I never have to see again rub me the wrong way?

If all you do is love the lovable, do you expect a bonus?

Anybody can do that...

In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up…

Live out your God-created identity.

Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.

Matthew 5:46-48

Was it kind and gracious to mock my timeshare sales friend in blog format, even though I was nice to his face? Probably not. Fail.

So here’s me, still figuring out how to say “shut up and leave me alone” to pushy sales people in the most kind and loving way possible.

Any ideas? How do you deal with these people in a kind, but expedient way?

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , , | posted in spiritual

March 27, 2012

Modern Day Torture, aka The Timeshare Presentation

By So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

This time last week, we were on holiday, in Hawaii, but not anywhere we wanted to be. This time last week, the sun was shining, the beach was calling, but we were stuck indoors. This time last week, we experienced one of the unique tortures of modern society:

The timeshare presentation.

Reeling us in

They’re so friendly. Pushy, but friendly. First they butter you up with free chocolates and gifts for the kids. Then they pull out the big guns. The “no obligation whatsoever cause we’re not pushy and high pressure like those other guys” FREE gift that they are just dying to give you.

Sailboat ride.

For the whole family.

At sunset.

With a baby whale.

And dolphins.

And food. Free food.

We did that super secret, silent discussion that evolves sometime after the first decade of marriage. The eyebrow raise. Half shrug. Wink… no wait, he’s got something in his eye. Ah yes, the slight nod.

Okay, we’re in. But we are absolutely NOT going to buy anything. In fact, we felt better making that clear from the outset. “We don’t want to waste your time. We are absolutely not in any position to buy a timeshare right now, but yes, we’d like the free gift. Thank you for mentioning this trip to see the whales in front of our children, by the way. Okay, fine, sign us up.”

But just to be polite. And thrifty. Because free stuff is even better than baby whales. But we are absolutely NOT going to buy anything.

Setting the mood

And this is how we find ourselves setting the alarm insanely early ON OUR VACATION for a 90-minute sales pitch. Blech.

Now, to be honest, the only other time we did this, we ended up buying in. Perhaps we were just excited to finally have the salary level to make it into the “free stuff so we can woo you” club. And it’s been better than we expected. We’ve gotten our money’s worth and then some. We are timeshare believers.

In fact, without timeshare, we would never have been able to take this super-cheap vacation to Hawaii. The timeshare week was free (a limited time bonus, because we were a pretty hard sell). The airmiles paid for car rental and a few extra nights in the hotel. Cheap airfare came in the form of red eye flights with absurd layovers – 3 different flights to find our way home.

But we are absolutely NOT going to buy anything, this time.

So, here we wait with our cups of free cocoa. Neither of us drink coffee, which is a shame because the snazzy machine makes everything under the sun. The doughnuts aren’t half bad. Fresh fruit plate – breakfast of champions. There’s a popcorn machine in the corner. It’s like sample day at Costco. Be still my frugal little heart!

I shamelessly eavesdrop on the tables near us. What do you know, all the salespeople are just hitting it off with their new customers. They draw out the small talk and act disappointed by the need to broach the subject of the day.

“Cause, gee, I’m just having such a fabulous time yakking with you about your 14 grandchildren and your cat’s bursitis, but my slave driving boss insists that I go through this material with you. Did I mention that I have a cat too? Now that we’re such good buddies, I’m sure you won’t mind helping me out with it.”

Ya, I’m onto them. This is the “building rapport” part of the spiel. But they don’t fool me. No. I’m cool. I’m detatched. I’m a rock, I’m an iiiiiis-land… And I’ve got plenty of friends already. Bring it on.

That worked for about 2 1/2 minutes. When he asked about my kids, I chatted. I appreciated that he laughed at my jokes. I pulled out a picture. I’ll be honest, I gushed. What! Can I help it if my children are incredibly interesting and engaging?

It was like a really weird date, with me, my husband and some strange guy who was determined to befriend us.

The spiel

He shook his head. Acted very concerned about the timeshare situation we were already in. He didn’t want to alarm us. It wasn’t his place to trash talk the competition. Obviously, we are very giving and trusting people, without the keen business insight that is needed to navigate the treacherous timeshare game. Good thing we now have our brand new friend to help us.

As he proceeded to tell us about the company, there just HAPPENED to be pictures of his family there. And his dogs.

Now, I’m not much of an animal person, but I’ll tell you, those sad canine eyes were accusing me. Of wasting his time. Of denying him the commission he so desperately needs. You know, to feed his sad dogs. And his family. How could I do this to my new FRIEND? Why the heck are his dogs so pathetically depressed anyway?

The pressure

This is the part where you hear ALL about the amazing life that you will lead if you buy in (no prices shared of course, no matter how many times we asked). Apparently, the world is my oyster if I sign up. My children will have the wedding of their dreams. Paris will become my home away from home. And I will OWN a piece of paradise. My children will rise up and call me blessed. My children’s children will be brilliant and well-travelled because of our investment in their future.

Strongly implied is the fact that non-timeshare holders (or those like us who are with another company and are destined to be cheated, extorted and ultimately disappointed) will lead lives of sad desperation. There will never be time or money for a real holiday. The best we can hope for is quiet days spent huddled in a dank basement, braiding armpit hair into a scarf.

The deal

Eventually even the slickest salesman must put a price on it. Also the various comparisons and mental gymnastics we are put through to convince us that $50,000 is a ridiculous steal! Oh, and the $2000 yearly fee. If that is not exciting enough, they are generously offering to finance our investment at only 17%!

Now, I’m not much of a math girl, but my husband tells me that 17% of $50,000 will be $8,500 in interest that first year. With that much money, I’m pretty sure I could HIRE someone to braid me an armpit hair scarf.

Until they invent teleportation (after 3 red eye flights with a head cold I am deeply invested in this possibility) and food pellets for children (like for a fish: a week’s nutrition in one cheap, easy to serve patty), accomodation is only one small piece of the holiday puzzle. If we spend all our money on this timeshare, taking on additional debt (and, as a result, jobs and possibly bankruptcy), I’m not sure our vacation prospects will look up, no matter what our new friend and his shiny brochure promise.

In the end, I had to walk out. After 2 hours, my kids needed me and we were done with it all. I came back to sign the refusal paper and talk to yet another sales person about an even better deal (tip: be a hard sell and they will offer you something better). We were almost there a few times, but as we said many times throughout the whole process we are absolutely NOT going to buy anything.

So here’s me, timeshare presentation survivor and as rich (read: solidly middle class) as ever! And YES, the baby whale was totally worth it!

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