When I headed into the YMCA the other day I was ambushed by a ninja looking chick.  She was dressed in black from head to toe and had a blond pony tail pulled through her cap and looked incredibly firm and agile.

“Would you like to try a boot camp demo?” she asked.  Behind her, I saw there was another similarly dressed man (minus the pony tail) doing arm curls with a VW Bug.  He was barking at a well-nourished middle-aged woman who had collapsed on the pavement and was sobbing.  “Gimme FIFTEEN more push ups lady!  You didn’t think I was paying attention, did you?!”

A couple of college kids, who also looked very firm, were huffing and puffing around what looked to be a trebouchet and I was wondering if they were getting ready to launch off somewhere.

I regarded Miss Pony Tail and adjusted my Wal Mart bag which contained my swimsuit.  And a baby Snickers. Lap swimming can be exhausting.   I said,  “How about the ‘camp’ part?  Can I just do that?”

“You should give it a try!” she offered.  Her pony tail swung when she spoke.  I hate that.

I replied, “When you have a ’slipper’ camp….gimme a call.  Until then, I’ll just stick with my laps, thanks.”

She tossed her pony tail back and hopped over to a yoga-mat-toting potential victim participant.

My days of boot camp, step aerobics, “power pump” and long distance running have been over for some time.

I had a friend recently invite me to a “Zumba” class (“Zumba”- from the ancient Mayan language which, as best as linguists can tell, means…”Can’t get out of bed in the morning.”)

I was actually considering attending, when, I swear I’m not making this up, her daughter sent me a chilling warning.  “Don’t go Theresa!  My sister went and it made her cry!”

This is a conundrum for me.  I love exercise….love being in shape.  But my range of choices keep shrinking with each year that passes.

Which is why I’m excited to announce a new workout routine that’s bound to bring new hope and health to the physically unfit. I’m calling it, “The Mother Lode’s Kick Butt Workout”…so called because you’ll kick yourself in the butt for not trying this sooner.

Daniel will be my technical director and then… watch out You Tube!  I’ll keep you posted on this exciting new development.

In the meanwhile,  if you’re heading to the Y anytime soon, I’d approach that building very carefully if I were you.

Or does ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons in his appearance on the CMA Awards last night remind you of anybody?  Well, here…you look:

Just sayin’….

We had fun watching the CMA awards last night.  Though I will admit that after  number 57, I quit counting Carrie Underwood’s dress changes.

It was delightful to see the humble Taylor Swift take home the goods.

It was great to see Lady Antebellum get an award too.  (Little known fact: Lady Antebellum had considered calling themselves “Lady CEREbellum” [meaning from Dictionary.com: a large portion of the brain, consisting of two lateral lobes and a central lobe,] but their marketing dude shot down the idea (“too brainy”) and insisted on Lady Antebellum, which means literally, Before the Bellum, a reference to a small, little-known battle that took place in Bellum, TN,  during the Civil War while the much more famous Battle of Franklin was raging.)

Jay’s theory was shot to pieces last night.  He’s long contended that Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman are actually THE SAME PERSON since they are often seen separately.  Well.  There they were side by side last night.

Or where they?????  Again….just sayin’….

Be very afraid!

This one can be filed under, “Yes You Too May Have a Label.”

“People might think it is a bit of a laughable affliction…but the actual sight of them fills me with dread and I could never touch them,” Vicki Larrieux, 22, a British student.

What, pray tell, terrorizes this young Brit?  (Here’s the article.)

If you guessed assault rifles, a petri dish with Ebola cultures or hissing cockroaches you would be wrong.

Larrieux is terrified of vegetables and suffers from “lachanophobia” which dictionary.com defines as:

Well, there is no definition to be found there.  Must be a pretty new phobia.

I did find a few spurious websites however that offers hope and help for this malady.

One site sells a “Home Study Program” ($135) or the VIP (“Very Important Vegetable”) package for One on One assistance from a Board certified Specialist (AKA “a gardener”) for only $2,497.

Living a life at peas (har) with vegetables is not cheap evidently.  Fear is a very big industry!

I considered a few of my fears over the years:

• Middle aged men in Speedos
• That “special” talk in 5^th grade
• The Kohls’ dressing room
• Breaking down on the highway and having an axe-murderer stop to assist Or—having that axe-murderer surprising me just as I’m sudsing up my hair in the shower.
• Breaking wind in a windowless room among friends

The world is indeed a very scary place.

I wonder what the therapy will be like for this woman.  Will it be confrontational and cathartic whereby they strap her to a table and wave carrots and bean sprouts under her nose?

Will she be force to watch Veggie Tales videos repeatedly until she can smile and nod maniacally along with the lyrics to their theme song:

If you like to talk to tomatoes,
If a squash can make you smile,
If you like to waltz with potatoes,
Up and down the produce aisle…

I hope she comes to terms with her affliction.

One the other hand, perhaps the military should look to spreading this fear.  Think of the possibilities!   Instead of expensive weaponry in modern warfare, we can simply fling collard greens and brussel sprouts at one another.  Police could be armed with garden produce, (“Put your hands where I can see them sir, I have a carrot.”) and unruly children would be a thing of the past (“Don’t make me use the green beans on you!”)

One can dream anyway.

I know for me, the older I get the more at peace I am with my issues and have learned to live a full and satisfying life in spite of them.  For the most part anyway.  Speedos still really frighten me.

As I was paddling around at the foot of Angel Falls this morning,  (I confessed on Facebook that when I’m swimming laps, I imagine I’m in South America but don’t tell anyone,) I was concentrating on my stroke.  Keep your head low….watch your stroke….

And I remembered Scott.  Scott was a tri-athlete that used to work at our old sports club back in Montana.  He was the pool maintenance man so we saw him regularly.  When I asked him for a few pointers on lap swimming, he happily did so.

But what really endeared Scott to my heart was his willingness to indulge Daniel’s curiosity with the inner workings of the pool pump.  At the time, Daniel was about five-years-old.

You might say that Scott was one of Daniel’s first teachers.  Since that time, Daniel has been taught by a number of amazing plumbers, phone repairmen, antiques dealers, a phone expert….and an old guy who smokes way too many cigarettes.  Electricians, banjo pickers, retired school teachers and most endearing, his 80-something-years-old Great Gramma.  (Daniel chats with her on the phone almost every night.)

(Wouldn’t you love the benefit of drawing from the wisdom and experience of a Godly, loving woman who’s been around for over eighty years?)

I have learned from my boy that everyone you meet is a potential teacher.  From the clerk at Wal Mart who has found a place of grace to live in in spite of the murder of his wife and children a few years ago….to my friends who’ve loved me at my worst.  Or the bookkeeper that helped me with my first “real” job….or Scott. (I gave up on the kick turn a long time ago, Scott.)

I think one of the biggest casualties of institutionalized education or religion is it marginalizes the teacher resident in each and every human.  Parents feel they’re not “qualified” to teach their own children.  And believers who feel the pastor is the only one qualified to counsel them. (Good Lord, no wonder preachers get so burned out.)

This is such a losing proposition.  We are wired to give and when we are withholding our life’s knowledge, experience and training in deference  for one whom the Matrix has deemed “qualified,” everyone loses.

A wonderful thing happens when you begin to see the teacher resident in everyone.  You see opportunity around every corner.  And your respect and appreciation for people will go up.  (Not to mention the other way around. How does it make you feel when someone asks for your advice on a matter?)

When I look at the young man Daniel is turning into I am astounded at the teachers God has brought to him.

And then I shudder thinking of what could have happened had I followed that pediatrician’s advice to “Get this child on medication and into a classroom as soon as possible.”

When Daniel is not being tutored by one of these amazing people he spends hours learning.  I’d tell you what he’s up to but truth be told, I haven’t a clue because it’s all over my head.

Now that you’ve met a few of Daniel’s teachers, here’s a picture of his current classroom:

I don't think *this* is what that pediatrican had in mind, do you?

Fun! Fun! Fun!

I was thinking about this the other day when we attended a community event sponsored in large part by a local mega church.  As I was walking around the bouncy things for the kids and navigating around people holding balloons that said, “Fun! Fun! Fun!” I had “What? What? What?” ringing through my head.

Here in the Bible belt the ingenuity to “reach the lost” never ceases to amaze.  Now don’t go thinking I”m not attacking these well-intended people; that’s not my heart.

Jesus was irrelevant on so many levels.  Take up your cross.  Love your rotten neighbor with the obnoxious teenager who guns his car.  Be nice to the jerk at Wal Mart.  And the one that makes my flesh crawl: Deny yourself.  Love your life and you’re going to lose it, Buster!

Somehow, I don’t think “Die! Die! Die!” balloons would be a good marketing move though.

How did what Jesus modeled and lived morphed into what we call the Gospel in the Western world?  Balloons? Circus Animals?  Rides for the kiddies?

Okay…so I get the idea behind this.  Lure them into a service so they can hear the Gospel.  Harness their over burdened schedules with meetings.  Guilt them into tithing for the new building wing even though they’re buried in debt and their marriage is on the breaking point because of it.

But by golly….we’re going to make disciples!  The Kingdom is a lot of work!

And according to the numbers, we wonder why people are leaving, nay, fleeing organized religion.  They know something’s not right but they can’t quite put a finger on it.  All they know is they’re tired….they’ve done the stuff….and they’re still broke, worried and harassed by life.

I sure don’t have all the answers but from my little corner I think it comes back to this quest to be relevant thing.  Jesus didn’t invite us to change our behavior or to try to make a message that was irrelevant to the masses relevant.  It isn’t about loving your neighbor or one upping your buddy so you can feel validated….He invited us into a relationship.

But because we’re so busy doing all this stuff…making disciples…attending meetings…passing out balloons….we forget that it all comes back to HIM.

If we don’t have time to sit at his feet and to learn of his love and allow it to transform our lives we’re going to continue on the same ole cow paths.

Everything Jesus did/say pointed to the Father.  His magnificent love for us and an invitation to enter into a relationship whereby we are transformed.  And then that love your neighbor stuff actually becomes a joy not another “to do” on the discipleship check list.

I certainly haven’t arrived at this but the little tastes of it I get on the way are indeed compelling.

Until we are willing to live loved and love others as we ourselves have been loved….well,  better stock up on those balloons. 

….goes “uuuuuummmmmmmmmm” and flies?  (I’ll just be waiting right over here, kay?)

Give up?

Aerial Yoga!

I stumbled onto this disturbing trend the other day when I was reading a local magazine entitled Me! Me! Me!

It’s a magazine devoted to narcissistic women, women of means.  This is evident by the advertisers, one of whom, I swear I’m not making this up, is a BOARD CERTIFIED EYE LID Surgeon.  (Buy one lid, get one free!)

But I digress.  I guess for those who aren’t interested in “Hot Yoga” (Yoga performed in a room hot enough to roast pumpkin seeds,) Aerial Yoga is for those seeking to bring their Yoga experience to the next level.  (Har-dee-har-har.)

My curiosity got the better of me so I did a little research.  “Unnata Yoga” (“Unnata” is Sanskrit for “unnatural,”) incorporates traditional yoga with the exhilaration of swinging from fabric bands. Think, flying pretzels:

Not my idea of "hanging out" with friends.

Truly this can’t be healthy.  And I hope to heaven that if a person ever finds me in a predicament like this…

….they will have the good sense to dial 9-1-1.  And quick!  (And then get me a cup of coffee.)

Yeah, yeah.  I know. Yoga moves can make a body more flexible.  And flexibility is something I take very seriously at my advancing age.  (Thankfully, I’ve discovered  the margarita-and-a-hot-tub move.)  It’s much easier on the joints and I don’t have to carry around a mat.  And trust me, the world is not ready to see this body in yoga pants.

Truth be told, those photos conjured up other, more disturbing, images in my head:

If you read this medical thriller by Robin Cook, you’ll recall the plot:

Patient goes in for an innocuous surgery and is sedated to never to wake again so their organs can be harvested for the black market.  (Cue to malevolent music.)

I wonder if some of them were having their eyelids done…..

This man, yes, THIS man was emailing ME!

Imagine my shock when I saw an email from Darren Hardy, editor of Success Magazine in my inbox.  This can only be good news. Success Magazine is one of my favorite reads; it’s bursting with encouragement and helpful teachings from some of the leading Zig Ziglar’s of the world.

But back to the email.  I’ve once again started trolling around  for paying magazine gigs.  And since the editorial calendar is usually several months ahead of time, one loses track of what’s submitted when it comes to articles…or simple article proposals.

So in a nano-second this is what runs through my head:

OMG.  SUCCESS MAGAZINE.  DARREN HARDY.  I wonder if I should get a new headshot?  Press release kit?  How many magazines should I ask for.  Oh!  The years of writing!  I’ve struck gold!  Woooo-hooooooo!  Or perhaps he discovered my witty repartee on Facebook and wanted to offer me a column.  Perhaps…..

Then the next nano second came.  And the party ended.  Marcella, my bad, annoying angel spoke up:

Uh.  You knuckle head.  You didn’t submit squat to Success Magazine.  Back off on the coffee woman.

Whoa Betsy!  I pushed back my coffee cup.  It does make me a little excitable.

It occurred to me then that perhaps I should OPEN the email.  Yes!  Open it. And I did.

Ahem.  Well, it’s not quite a column offer.  But he DID like a comment I left on Facebook regarding a darn-good piece on Edison.

This justified a miniature snoopy dance, I thought.  Not the whole enchilada…maybe just a little foot shuffle.

So now ladies and gentlemen, in January’s issue of Success, Yours Truly will be on the Letter’s to the Editor page with this brilliant comment:

Takes your breath away doesn’t it? Not quite enough for a publishing credit but hey, despise not small beginnings, eh?

And Mr. Hardy, if you’re reading this,  I’m ready any time you are for that column.

Thrown them into the pit…cast their souls to perdition.  Or at least that’s what this article suggested.

I read it in a homeschool magazine; the author’s opinion was quite clear: If you put your kids in public school, you are rejecting “Godly” teaching and indoctrinating your child in the world.  (And hence you’re in disobedience to God.)  You’re on a slippery slope!  And next thing you know, the kids won’t want to go to church and then they’ll turn away from God, get body piercings, tats and run with people named, “Spike” who has the a vanity plate on his pimp mobile that says, “PlaaaBoy.”

Oh Puh-leez.  I am SO over the Public School is the Boogey Man.  I am SO over every Christian parent MUST educate their children at home.  I am SO over it all.

The approach this man took in the article is not unfamiliar to me:  State fearful statistics…quote a few highly disturbing articles of evil liberals trying to get homosexual agendas into the classroom and in short….remove any options for education beyond a Bob Jones, honest-to-God, King-Jimmy- approved-homeschool-education.  (Gee, too bad about those stress related health issues, mama.)

Don’t forget to throw in the Scriptures that support Worldy vs. Biblical views.  (As interpreted by the American Religious Association Code of Behavior.)

Finally….the script offers the promise to the faithful:   Do all these things and your kids will follow God and your home will be free from stress and the evils of the world.  And they all lived happily ever after.

Uh huh.  (Can you say, “Embittered, disappointed believer?”)

Now, I’m not writing about this to start a spitting match on what education model is better than another. Every kid is different…every family….every school.

For the record, I personally do not agree with the model the public schools follow.  And I hope that I am always clear in my distinction between “The System” versus the hard working, devoted teachers that teach there.  (And yes, I know there are some bad teachers out there, okay?)

Nor do I think homeschooling is a good option for some families.  In a perfect world, right?

This is about that wonderful, freeing, God given gift called CHOICE.

When my daughter first approached me about attending public school, it challenged me.  She called me on something that I’d always given lip service to.  That, each year we would decide to home school or not for the upcoming year.

This article highlights some of my objections to government schooling but now I look past the rhetoric and see a butt-load of fear, hyperbole and control behind it.  And we set up a stranglehold of immovable boundaries.  It sounds something like this:

We must keep our children home at all costs.  Remove any choices from them.  And in the still of the night when you’re staring wide eyed at the ceiling….hope to God it all works out okay.  And gee.  Too bad about that migraine; but we all know that Saxon Math is tHE WAY to go, right?

Oh, bleck, bleck, BLECK!  Did you notice “trusting peacefully in God” never enters into this picture?

Releasing our children to make some choices….even if I don’t agree with the choice….is, what I believe is a healthy step toward teaching them about the grace of God.  (Now don’t go an email me that it’s stupid to allow a six-year-old to play in traffic.  That IS stupid and it’s not what I’m talking about.)

The grace of God does not order me to a live a certain lifestyle.  Nor does it order me to convince you to live the same way I feel I must live.  It is an invitation to a relationship whereby changes occur that are more organic than an overpriced apple at Whole Foods.

The grace of God says perfect love casts out all fear.  The grace of God says, Jump in and find me in every circumstances….yea verily….find me in the heart of a devoted teacher, who, btw….is also frustrated with the system.

The grace of God says, Let’s sit down and talk about your decisions.  Let’s talk about the bad ones….the good ones….and then let me help you walk through the consequences.

It’s a scary and empowering journey to embark on.  Instead of learning to follow the do’s and don’ts …I’m learning to follow His voice and trusting my kids to do the same.

A child who is unafraid of making choices will become a powerful adult.

And for right now, it means embarking on a journey with my kids I would never have imagined.  And we’ll explore it together…

Call me a prude but I just don’t get it.  Today’s headline on the local daily rag reads: Burlesque empowers sexy moms.

The article highlights the story of Rebecca Seaver and her alter ego  “Truvy Trollops”.  Seaver, (can’t quite bring myself to refer to her as “Trollops,”)is  mom to four children, the youngest of whom is 10 months old.

The article goes out of it’s way to explain how these are every day moms with the usual to-do list: Make lunch for the kids, Drive the carpool, clean house, dance half nude for strange men.  Oh, wait a minute.  Scratch that last one.

Her husband is in on the action too.  “Larry the Panty Boy” occasionally joins in the fun when he isn’t handling, er, props.  (Oh, the opportunity for double entendres abound!)  Let’s listen in on one of Larry’s conversation at the next Chamber Meeting:

Business man: “So, what do you do, (he looks at the name tag,) Larry?”

LTPB: “I’m a panty boy.”

Business man: “Oh, you mean like lingerie sales?” He is clearly amused and interested by this unusual occupation.

LTPB: “Not quite.  I wiggle around on a stage half naked with my wife.  In front of strangers mind you.  It’s a blast.  Our kids are involved too! We’re also considering launching children’s videos: Wedgie Tales starring Yours Truly and Bob the, well, we’re not quite sure what exactly Bob will be.  We’re hammering out the details with our lawyers.”

Business man: “Oh my! Look at the time….”

Okay…I am all for creativity.  All for women feeling beautiful.  I get the whole empowerment thing. And there are none more more passionate about pursing your passion than I.

And golly…silly me….I thought these things could be found through healthy relationships and education. And, tsk, tsk, I’m raising my daughter with the same limited narrow-minded perspective.

And that passion thing?  Some of those that are meant to be kept behind closed doors.

Okay…here it comes….another Seth Godin commercial.  I love how he is able to look at something with such insight.  I wanted to post this one because it so speaks to my heart in regards to the foolishness behind many of the things our current educational models propagate.  (“Faux achievements” Ha!)

The Rule of High School

Any sufficiently overheated industry will eventually resemble high school. High school is filled with insecurity, social climbing, backbiting, false friends, faux achievements, high drama and not much content. Much of this insecurity comes from a market that doesn’t make good judgments, that doesn’t understand how to reliably choose between alternatives. So it turns into a popularity contest.

As Tom Hanks reportedly said, “Hollywood is like high school, but with money.”

Or the fashion magazine industry, which is high school but with more makeup.

Add to that the Internet, which is like high school but with a modem.

Or Twitter, which is high school but only 140 characters at a time.

As in high school, the winners are the ones who don’t take it too seriously and understand what they’re trying to accomplish. Get stuck in the never ending drama (worrying about what irrelevant people think) and you’ll never get anything done. The only thing worse than coming in second place in the race for student council president is… winning.