A Guide to 'the Holidays'

Recently I participated in a discussion on 'how not to go overboard on holiday indulgences.' Lots of 'tips' were bandied about, as well as differing opinions on how to regard these strange times in which we live. By 'strange' I mean we live in an age of unprecedented culinary abundance, and from late November through early January we are caught in a swoon of even more abundance. It can be a bit overwhelming, to say the least.

One of the littles when he was very little, building a gingerbread train

My little contribution to the discussion was to point out that 'the holidays' are actually not six weeks of non-stop party. There are actually relatively few 'holidays' within that time frame. I think we get into trouble (and by 'trouble' I mean having absolutely nothing that fits by January 7th) when we frolic about as if we were living in Charlie and Chocolate Factory for forty days. So, as a public service, I would like to recap what actually constitutes a 'holiday' this time of year in the good old U.S. of A.

Thanksgiving: fourth Thursday of November and YES!! Bingo! This is a holiday, people! Totally bona fide. A harvest festival. All about it. Eat, drink, and give thanks. We had a great feast yesterday. I didn't even need dinner last night. YUM!

Black Friday: NO. This is not a holiday. I know it's hard to believe it, since it is heralded with more fanfare than Thanksgiving, but it's true. It's a Madison Avenue manufactured event. It annoys me that it even has a name. I know you may feel like you deserve a treat because you did battle for that Darth Vader Pez dispenser and had to wait in line for an hour at Kohl's, but it's still not a holiday. You're probably hungry and tired, though, so just have leftovers from yesterday.

Cyber Monday: Lord, have mercy. This is even less of a holiday than Black Friday. And you don't deserve any treats because you didn't even have to walk around to do your shopping. You planted your bottom on a chair and pressed buttons. No treats. Sorry.

December 1st. Well, this is the first day of Advent. This is a beautiful time of reflection and thinking about Jesus being the reason for the season, etc. If it helps you to think about Jesus, then go ahead and have a square of chocolate everyday for the next twenty-four days. If it becomes a little too habit-forming, don't worry. Lent is right around the corner!

December 6th: This is the feast of St. Nicholas, aka 'Santa Claus.'If you grew up calling your grandfather 'Opa' then this is a big deal for you. Enjoy that orange in your shoe!

December 8th: Nope. No holiday. It's just Tuesday. Put down the cookie.

December 6th-14th: This is Hanukkah. I'm not Jewish so I'm not really clear on how much treats factor into Hanukkah, except for the gelt, which is chocolate shaped into coins with gold foil wrappers. Personally, I have never had chocolate coins that were worth eating. They are never made from good quality chocolate, so I'd give it a pass. I mean, if you're going to have treats, have the good stuff, right?

December 14th: I'm going to rant for a second:

THIS IS NOT THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS! OH MY GOOD GRIEF. Every year some marketer tries to sell us stuff--literally--for the twelve days preceding Christmas day. DON'T BUY IT. I mean, seriously--don't buy it.

Lord knows I love America as much as the next daughter of a veteran, but I really, really despise how American marketers will try to make a buying opportunity out of every cotton pickin' thing they can. In this case, it is SIMPLY WRONG. The Twelve Days of Christmas start on CHRISTMAS. They end on Twelfth Night--January 5th. I'll get to that later, but please, do not think that the 14th is a holiday because it ISN'T. It's just marketing. Grrr!

Moving on...

December 24th: Ding ding ding! Yes! Holiday fer shur!! Bottoms up!

December 25th: WHOA! HOLIDAY!!! Holy-day! Which is where the word 'holiday' comes from, you know. Eat, drink, be merry, etc.

December 26th: Boxing Day. If you're from a commonwealth nation, yay! Totally qualifies as a holiday. For the rest of us it means going out to buy wrapping paper at 50% off.

December 26th-January 1st: This is Kwanzaa. I actually didn't realize this was a multi-day event. I also didn't realize it was invented in 1966. Kind of makes me wonder, how many people actually grew up celebrating Kwanzaa? I don't know, is this is a holiday? If you are of African decent, please write and tell me what you eat. I thought Kwanzaa might have involved jumping over brooms, which sounds like a nice activity after all the eating at Christmas, but apparently that's just at weddings.

December 31st: New Year's Eve. Holiday. I'll be tucked in by 9.30 in my fuzzy blue robe, but if you're a fan, this definitely qualifies.

January 1st: New Year's Day. Win!! Enjoy a nice brunch rich in vitamin G.

January 5th: As previously mentioned, this is Twelfth Night. You can party it up. Definitely. Especially if you managed to find a yule log that actually burned for twelve days.

January 6th: The Feast of Epiphany, or Three Kings Day. This is a holiday, especially if you call your grandfather 'abuelo,' Spanish kids actually get their presents on January 6th. The Three Kings bring them. There is a traditional cake for Epiphany made in France called a 'galette des rois.' It's yummy flaky pastry with an almond paste filling. If you can find one, enjoy!

After that, the party's over. Yes, there are a lot of holidays in this brief period, but really--unless you're a Jewish Scandinavian Christian Spanish African, you're probably not hitting everything on this list. Then again, maybe you are? In which case, you are indeed an American! Just don't call December 14th the first day of Christmas, ok?

College is a SCAM

I haven't written in a long time, for various reasons. I'll spare you all my whining and instead treat you to the spicy rantings for which I am not famous.

One of the crazy things going around the internet these days is an interview by journalist Neil Cavuto of a young woman who is agitating for this mysterious '1%' to fund college for all AND forgive student loans. This poor benighted soul believes she and her friends should be given a free ride. Honestly, the whole thing is painful to watch, because this poor girl (womyn?) comes across looking like a complete idiot. She should either, a.) not be in college at all or b.) spend a whole lot more time there to learn to develop a cogent argument.

I really feel quite sorry for her. Just like the poor fool at Yale, who is presumably reasonably smart because she got into Yale in the first place, but has absolutely no sense or emotional control. She screamed at one of her professors about Halloween costumes. Yes. Halloween costumes. I would love for her to go attend one of the groups at the little darlings' school that helps the littles determine what is a 'big problem' and what is a 'little problem.'

These events make me even more thankful that I am old enough to have done the vast majority of my young stupid stuff before the internet. These women's actions will live in perpetuity, just a click away. Lord help them!

Anyway, the point of this post is to share my deep thoughts about college. For the record, I went to college, but I'm here to say:

I think college for the masses is a scam.

Before everyone gets their knickers in a twist, I'm not suggesting college should only be for the economic elite. Certainly, there are plenty of people from working and middle class families who have gifts and motivation to pursue career fields that require college and maybe graduate degrees. And they should go! College should be more affordable so people of all walks of life, whose gift mix suits them to professions that require that type of training, are able to pursue it.

However, not everyone fits that criteria. In fact, most don't. Plenty of kids in America today are graduating from mediocre public high schools with mediocre grades and absolutely no clue what they want to do for a living. So what do they do? They borrow pots of cash and go to college.

Some go to college and spend time taking REMEDIAL classes. Yes, people. Remedial. They're staying at the dorm, partying and screwing around, taking basic math, reading and writing. Stuff they should have learned in high school, but didn't. I don't know why they didn't learn it in the FREE and COMPULSORY k-12 American system, but they didn't and now they are PAYING through-the-nose to learn it in college. This is insane. Why are they even being accepted into college if they can't do college work? Why are the colleges not saying, 'hey, God knows we need your cash, but you're really not quite up to snuff here, so why don't you brush up on a few things and come back next year? We'll hold a place for you!' It strikes me as totally insane. And wrong.

And it's not just America. I earned my master's degree at a British university. They loved non-EU students because they could charge us more. I met a sweet Korean guy who COULD NOT SPEAK ENGLISH. Seriously, I could hardly even have a conversation with him, his English was terrible. I managed to get out of him that the University had required him to complete a six-week English immersion program in Newcastle before he started, but he still couldn't hold a conversation with an easy-to-understand American (his words, not mine.) Let alone read 16th century texts on the British Reformation... I ran into him a few months later and things were 'very bad,' he said. The whole situation made me crazy. It was WRONG to take this guy's money. Wrong.

According to this article from Time magazine, part of the reason students are graduating (if they're graduating at all) with so much debt is because it's taking them longer than the traditional four years to finish. This is partly due to the remedial courses they need, and partly because THEY DON'T KNOW WHY THEY'RE THERE. They don't know what they want to study. They don't know what they want to be when they grow up. So they switch majors and need to take additional classes, or can't get into the ones they need.

I'm sorry, do students not get advisers anymore? When I was in college, I had an adviser who... you guessed it... ADVISED me. She told me what courses I needed and made sure I was on track. I had to get my course sheet signed by her. My college was pretty hands-off, but they still made me go through an adviser. Is this no longer required? Seriously, I'm asking.

We have to stop convincing people that they absolutely need college or they will live a life of misery. Yes, college graduates tend to earn more than non-graduates, but I'm betting if we teased out those statistics, we'd find the very super high earners and the minimum-wage earners probably skew the results. There are plenty of people who don't go to college and do just fine. Managers of restaurants, retail, plumbers, electricians and others who learn a valuable trade. They don't necessarily NEED college. If they want to go, great! But need? Maybe not.

We also have to get over this whole college-as-rite-of-passage thing. A friend of mine is Canadian. She's married to an American and she almost had a fit when her husband said he'd be happy to pay for room and board for their kids to go to a local school, so they could have 'the college experience.' My Canadian friend thought it absolute madness that they should pay thousands for their kids to basically drink, party and hook-up when they could live at home for free.

And sadly, I think that's what college boils down to for many. I'm not saying college shouldn't be an option for anyone who really wants to go and has the ABILITY to GET ACCEPTED, DO THE WORK, GRADUATE and GET A JOB. But we need to stop making it a requirement--be it an employment requirement or a social one--when it isn't really required.

I totally agree that the cost of college is insane. It just gets more insane by the year. Many of my friends are doing the college visit thing with their high school children. The stories I hear of the luxury and opulence at some of these places is unbelievable. I hear tell of 24-hour sushi bars in student centers, dorm rooms with private baths, student gyms with amenities rivaling any posh Manhattan sweat spot. The dorms are like hotels! It's crazy. And for what it's worth, the really good schools don't tend to do this stuff. They don't need to. Yale has enough screamers clawing at their doors, they don't need to fluff up their facilities.

So I think we need to ask our kids, do you really need to go to college? Is there a profession you really want to go into? What interests you? Do you even like school? Or are we just looking at college because that's what's expected? Are we willing to value work--ALL WORK that is good and honest and decent? If a high school kid really loves Snap Circuits and really wants to be an electrician rather than an electrical engineer, can't we be ok with that? Electricians can do very well. Believe me. We've had our house rewired. We know, you know?

Sigh... there's so much more I could say, but I need to empty the dishwasher, which is also good, honest work, by the way.

This Chick and her Eggs: More Thoughts on Aging

Recently I was talking with a friend about my injuries. I have my torn rotator cuff, which I've mentioned before, but I also have something going on with my hip. I think it's to do with my psoas. It's annoying, and both force me to modify my life more than I would like. I joked with her that it's my 'mid-life crisis.'

And it's true. I'm realizing my injuries have really brought on a mid-life crisis of sorts for me. They're forcing me to recognize that my body is changing. My hair is graying, my skin is thinner. I've put on a few pounds that reasonable effort will not remove. I get a little stiff and creaky. I can no longer do some of the high-intensity exercise I enjoy, or at least, not as often. And my cycles have changed--a lot. I'm pretty certain there will be no more little darlings pattering about the house.

Some of these changes are fine. I have no particular longings for more darlings. The two I have occupy my time and affections quite thoroughly. I don't even mind the aesthetic changes... at least, not too much. And my darling husband loves me just as I am... he's a true Mark Darcy in all the best ways, and for that, I am thankful.

I do miss the workouts. I miss the daily lala fix. I don't like being stiff and creaky, and I struggle with what to do with it in my mind. Is this the 'new normal?' Or can I get back some of that youthful vitality with lifestyle changes? If it's the former, then that's fine. I could make my peace with it, but I struggle. Not knowing if improvement is even possible makes me long for it.

But a funny thing happens when I discuss it with others. When I point out to people the obvious: that I am no longer a 'young woman,' that I am firmly within the stage of 'middle age,' they often react very strongly. "You're still young! You're not middle aged!"

Seriously, I've had people say that to me. Um, yes, I am a middle-aged woman. I am no longer young. I may be 'younger than' plenty of people, but if life expectancy has me living into my eighties, then my mid-forties puts me firmly in the middle of life.

Yet as a culture, we seem to be terribly uncomfortable with that truth. A young woman is vital, sexy, full of life and fecundity. A middle-aged woman... even the sound of it conjures an image of a frumpy woman past her 'prime.' We worship youth, we pursue it at great cost. The anti-aging industry is enormously profitable, and they have made it such at we deny the fact that youth is fleeting. The simple fact that we reject the reality that youth has passed reveals our ambivalence about it.

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Years ago I stumbled across a very interesting and entertaining blog called A Chick and Eggs. It was written by a woman who was trying to conceive using donor eggs. (I found it because I was facing up to the fact that at thirty-eight, I had been diagnosed with 'diminished ovarian reserves.' In short, I was running out of eggs. The doctor told me the best he could do for me was IVF with donor eggs. We were not interested in that, and happily I found out a few weeks later that I was already pregnant with Darling Son #2.)

Anyway, this blogger wrote a somewhat controversial post speculating about reproductive technologies used by celebrities. She had no inside knowledge as to how these stars had conceived their children, but based on their ages and other circumstances, she guessed who might have used donor eggs. Realistically, a 45-year-old woman bearing a child has almost certainly not used her own eggs. By our mid-forties, our chances of conceiving on our own are pretty slim. (Maybe you know someone who did, but that's not the norm.)

Many of the comments criticized the blogger for digging into these people's personal lives, that they were entitled to some measure of privacy. While that's true, the blogger held her ground. She pointed out that many celebrities have nearly unlimited funds to pursue the latest in assisted reproductive technologies, plastic surgeries and other enhancements. They live in a world where failing to avail themselves of these opportunities means career suicide, but in doing so, they promote the myth of eternal bloom and fertility. She felt they had a moral obligation to own up to the extreme measures they took to extend their youth and fecundity well past the age when it would naturally be gone.

We live in an age of possibility, and particularly for us Americans, we tend toward relentless optimism. We're told with hard work and hard cash we can extend pert freshness indefinitely. But when we try to tap into all these possibilities, we lose something... that quiet contentment that can come from just... accepting. We're all aging. Time is moving on, and with it's passing we gain some things, and lose others.

Over the last few months, I've been grieving these changes I see in myself. And I'll be honest, all the assurances I get from people that I'm still young! do not help me. The more we deny this reality, the more we entomb the idea that middle-age is this terrible, terrible thing. One that must be denied and battled and beaten into submission. It reminds me of a commercial I saw for face cream years ago. The woman said, 'People talk about aging gracefully. Not me! I'm going to fight it every step of the way!' Good grief. Does this strike anyone else as silly?

I can't help but think I have more important things to do than deny reality and fight the inevitable. Even though I struggle, I must say, for all the vim and vigor I had in my younger days, I realize I wouldn't go back for all the world. I was a neurotic mess at twenty-five! No, thank you. I'll keep my wit and wisdom, and leave the fast-paced burpees to the young.

The Myth of the Ideal Diet

I'm currently engaged in a most interesting discussion about the merits, or lack thereof, of animal foods with a vegan and a really-limit-your-animal-foods person on Facebook. I've never met either one of them, but they're delightful, interesting and the whole conversation is civil and respectful. So it can happen. I know we often only hear about the mud-slinging, but rational, polite discourse can occur online and I think we should shout 'hurrah!' when it does.

So hurrah!

Anyhoo, as you all know, I'm not a vegan. In fact, I recently bought half a grass-fed cow from a rancher in Maine. As a former vegetarian, I've been converted to the moo-side, but I think it's important to note that there is no one ideal diet for everyone. Our nutritional needs change, and our dietary habits shift based on a number of factors. 

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A few months ago, I read a most interesting book, Nutrition and Physical Degeneration by Dr. Weston A. Price. I know, snappy title. Sounds like a real page-turner. I'll own that it's a bit dry in spots, but the premise is fascinating. 

Dr. Price was a dentist from Cleveland, Ohio. He noticed that dental health was declining in his practice with each subsequent generation. He wondered why this might be, so with his wife, Martha, he embarked on a lengthy tour of the world in the early 1930s. The Prices visited remote areas of the globe, tracking down isolated people groups to study their teeth. They started in the Swiss Alps, visiting a village that was not yet connected to the modern world by road and traveled through Europe, to arctic regions of North America, islands of the South Pacific and remote African tribes. 

As you might imagine, the diets of these different people were as varied as the landscapes in which they lived. The Swiss lived on raw milk, cheese and a type of sourdough bread, the Inuits of the arctic ate only fish, meat and a little seaweed, the Masai of Africa ate meat, milk and animal blood, the South Pacific islanders ate mostly fish, fruit and vegetables, and so on. In short, the people ate what was available. Foods that were difficult to digest were prepared in ways to aid digestion. The prized cuts of meat were always the fattiest, particularly the organs. Our now expensive tenderloins would have often been fed to the dogs. 

Instead of finding people riddled with cavities and heart disease, Dr. and Mrs. Price found the opposite. In these communities, the people who consumed their traditional foods enjoyed remarkably good dental and physical health. The only ones who suffered were those who had adopted the sugary refined foods of the modern diet. 

One picture Dr. Price took from an isolated island in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland is particularly telling:

Image: nourishingourchildren.org

The island had only recently been connected to the mainland via ferry service, and with the ferries came all the modern foods--refined flour, sugar, jams, Crisco and tinned foods. The brother on the left worked at the ferry dock and enjoyed the modern foods. His teeth began rotting and the father said this son struggled to get out of bed in the morning. The brother on the right ate the traditional food the islanders had been eating for centuries--mostly codfish and oats, traditionally prepared. He had no dental decay and excellent health. Not a varied diet, but whole food and no 'displacing foods of modern commerce,' as Price called them.

These men are brothers. Same genes, different food. 

Dr. Price found the same tragic effects in every place he visited. These 'displacing foods of modern commerce' resulted in rampant tooth decay and illness.

As I've been discussing the meat/plant debate on Facebook, I'm struck by what a luxurious age we live in. We are no longer constrained by what is seasonal, what is available wherever we live. We can get pretty much any food, any time. This tremendous liberty is, in some respects, a blessing. I'm guessing oat-stuffed codfish gets pretty old after a while. But the dark side is navigating our way through this sea, both literal and figurative, of food options we have set before us. There is so much choice. And not all of it is to our benefit. 

There are many lessons to be learned from Dr. Price's research, but one key take-away is this: a steady diet of sugar and refined foods is not good. For anyone. Apart from that, there are many, many ways of eating that can be good for us. Take your pick!

What to do when you gain weight

Over the winter I put on some weight. I truly did not notice this was occurring. Probably because I was too busy shoveling.

I discovered this most inconvenient truth sometime in late May, as I was digging out my summer clothes. Back in October, I had bought a very cute skirt with the little shorts underneath, a most convenient garment for the mother-of-small-people. Loved this thing. Very excited to wear it. Fir back in October, so assumed it would fit in May.

But it was tight. Way tight. Thanks to the Lycra contained therein, I could get it on, but it looked.... Not good. And it felt even worse. So I got on the scale and whoa.... Nearly 15lbs.

Oh dear. I try not to freak about weight. As I've mentioned before, I don't think it is the most important thing. It's a thing, but not the most important one. But the fact that all my summer clothes were tight was a most depressing development.

I started doing some detective work and discovered that part of my problem was the anti-inflammatory I was taking for my torn rotator cuff. I am not sorry I took it, but meds can absolutely affect these sorts of things. I gradually went off and and boom! Nearly 5lbs. Gone. That still leaves with 10 extra, but hey, every little bit helps.

You know what else I did?

I bought some new clothes. Not a whole wardrobe, just a couple of skirts and two capris. I honestly cannot account for those 10lbs. I eat a healthy diet and move around a lot. I'm going to explore some other things that might be contributing, but I'm not going to starve myself or engage in punishing exercise, both of which I suspect would be counter-productive anyway, but I'm also not going to walk around in too-tight clothes feeling lousy about myself.

Which leads me to my point. (I always get ther!) you know why people have muffin tops? Because their clothes don't fit. Maybe they need to cultivate some different habits, but first stop is a new pair of jeans. Because life is too short to walk around feeling like. A polish sausage in a hot dogs dress.*

*thats a good one! Hugh? Credit goes to my old roommate Amy.

How Many Burpees in a Chocolate Bar?

One of my Facebook friends (who also shares my birthday AND my Myers-Briggs personality type, making us two peas in the proverbial pod) recently posted a little mini-rant about this article on PopSugar.

Ms. Jenny Sugar has calculated how many burpees must be performed to burn off various dietary indulgences. She allows that 'we all need to indulge a little and satisfy our cravings,' but admits that 'sometimes when you try to eat just a little square of dark chocolate, you end up eating the entire bar!'

I feel you, Jenny. Truly. 

So Jenny did some math for us and came up with how many minutes of burpees must be performed to burn off some seriously yummy foods. That dark chocolate bar? One hour of burpees. Whoa.

Burpees are also called squat thrusts. (I don't know why they're called burpees, but my little boys have their theories are and laughing uproariously as I type.) They are also notoriously wicked hard. Just one or two isn't bad, but burpeeing for an hour... ow. Go ahead and try one.

I'll wait.

See? Hard. This is how most people feel about burpees:

Image: pinterest

Before I get into the psychological fly in the ointment, I would like to pop a hole in Ms. Sugar's balloon. I really hate to diss anyone who does math because we all know how much I hate it, but really, how many calories people burn doing anything is SO HIGHLY VARIABLE. I guarantee Tom Brady wouldn't need to do an hour of burpees to burn off that chocolate bar. He's a big guy. He could just toss around a well-inflated football for a few minutes, if he can find one.

(Doh! I'm going to be exiled to Rhode Island for that one!)

Jenny's point, of course, is for us to think long and hard about whether or not we should really eat that yummy-fill-in-the-blank because that is a lot of hard slogging to pay for it. But my FB/birthday/MBTI twin said we should just enjoy a treat from time to time and not get all worked up about 'paying it off,' and I couldn't agree more. Wow, we March 25th INFJs are so in-synch!

One of bday/MBTI twin's friends said she liked the burpee currency because she, like pretty much everyone, hates burpees, so thinking of an indulgence in these terms really gives her pause. And I get that. But still... I hate thinking of exercise as punishment, as penance for enjoying a treat.

So how do you avoid schnarfing down the whole chocolate bar? I find when I limit my sugar intake, I struggle with way fewer cravings that are even asking to be satisfied. When I eat whole, real food, as close to it's natural state as possible, I am far less likely to binge. As for chocolate, I eat the really dark stuff. No binge... it's too intense.

But as a recovering binger, I am still vulnerable, so I just don't keep that stuff in the house. Anything that really tempts me I only buy or make for special occasions, and then I simply.... enjoy it.

No burpees required.

Redefining Romance and Excitement

I speak French. Or, at least, I used to. Now I just shout 'on y va!' to my children in the mornings and 'ouvre ta bouche, s'il te plait' when I brush their teeth. Though I'm thinking I should seek to resurrect my French skills, in the event that the Darling Husband comes home saying, "Guess what?! We're going to France!" That would be exciting!

The DH is out of town, so last night I decided to search some French movies on Amazon. Watching TV in french is how I made serious progress all those years ago, when my memory was young and impressionable.

But here's the problem: just about every movie I previewed was about adultery. It seems some showed consequences for this, which I appreciate. I didn't stick around to find out what those were, but prior to the consequences, there was the promise of lot of steamy sex. Which I suppose is how affairs work usually. I still felt annoyed, however. What is it with these French film makers? Why is everyone having affairs? Why can't we ever find movies about passionate marriages?? Why is every marriage depicted as so boring or difficult that people have affairs?

I got fed up and annoyed and I realize this is not a precursor to sleep, so I started perusing light, frothy American movies. These aren't so much about adultery, but dating. Have you ever noticed that practically every light, frothy American movie is about how couples get together? And they're almost always young, skinny and beautiful.

Seriously. Every. Single. Movie. How to get together. Never how to stay together. It seems that marriage is not deemed film-worthy. Marriage is boring. It is not romantic. It is not exciting. Only getting there is romantic and exciting, but once you're there, you're watching something that's telling you to look elsewhere.

It's like you're expected to start out with an American movie and end up with a French one.

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The DH and I are celebrating our tenth anniversary this year. And you know what? We still love each other. In fact, we still like each other. But if movies were to be believed, one or both of us should really be shopping around for some romance and excitement.

The older I get, the more the definitions of these terms change. I think it's romantic that my husband comes home to me at night, rather than finding an excuse to be out. I think its wicked cool that he fixed the furnace. Honestly. The furnace died and my clever man fixed it. (You never think a man in a headlamp is sexy until the house is really cold.) And 'excitement?' It is exciting when you're rushing to the hospital because your child just had a seizure on the school bus, but it isn't good.

Still, no one would want to watch a movie of my life. Everyone gets along too well, and I don't think we're going to see a headlamp-wearing suitor on The Bachelor anytime soon. But I don't think the problem is my life. The problem is the movies. Or at least, too many of them consumed without a healthy dose of real life in between. Too many movies make finding contentment in real life impossible.

We need to redefine romance. Sometimes it's just bringing in a flower from the garden. Or looking out the window at our small people frolicking on the grass to the melodious soundtrack of the neighbor's lawnmower.

This is the life we've made together. And it's good.