And then she said…

I’ve had the same hairstylist for several years. Once you find that perfect hairstylist, you will travel a long distance to keep your stylist. Mine happens to be about 90 miles away.

A while ago, I was sitting in her chair at the salon explaining a new color and cut I wanted to try.

Me: “I want to add some red highlights and go shorter in length.”

My Stylist: “No! That is a horrible idea.”

Me: “Well, I brought a picture. Take a look. I think it would look great.”

My Stylist (tossing the picture on the counter): “That cut would not look good on you and you can’t possibly want that color.”

Me: “But I do. I am ready for a big change.”

My Stylist: “Nope. I won’t do it.”

Me (sputtering): “Well, I am the one paying you to deliver what I want.”

My Stylist: “No, you are paying me to look beautiful. Let me go mix your color. I will be right back.”

And with that said, she disappeared into a back room. I slumped in my chair when I noticed the woman sitting in a chair next to me.

If you could have seen her expression! She was stunned. She was outraged. She was ready to file a complaint on my behalf.

The Woman: “She was really tough on you. You have to say something! And if you don’t, I will!”

Me: “Well…..I’m pretty sure she only talks that way to me. You see, that stylist is my daughter.”

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The Perfect Moment

“What’s the plan?” is a common phrase in my family. The one problem? Sometimes our planning absorbs all the energy and excitement. When we get to the big day or moment, we are too tired or crabby or out of sorts to enjoy it.

Common sense and Prairie Wisdom says, stop! Instead of planning that perfect event, look around you and make this moment perfect.

It is not always possible, but when we reach for joy and let life unfold in it’s own quirky way, we open ourselves to possibilities. Moments made for smiles. Moments to share with others. Moments that are, well, perfect or pretty darn close.

Just Another Mandatory Nap Day

When our kids were young, we traveled long distances to visit relatives. We quickly learned that if one of us had to stop to go to the bathroom, we better make sure everyone else took a turn. Otherwise, five miles down the road we’d hear another little voice wailing, “I have to go to the bathroom!” So began our mandatory bathroom stops. One for all and all for the bathroom.

This past weekend, our grandchildren came to visit. On Saturday, after spending a night getting up to tend sleepless children, I was bleary-eyed. After lunch I said, “Time for naps.” Our three-year old granddaughter looked at me and asked, “Is it mandatory nap day?” Mandatory nap day? What a great idea. I crouched down to look her in the eye and said, “It most definitely is mandatory nap day. Today, everyone gets to nap.”

Our daughter and son-in-law have a mandatory nap day each weekend. It has become a family tradition and now I was going to reap the benefits of this practice with a nice long nap.

But, before we settled under the covers, we had one important stop. The mandatory bathroom stop.

Maybe We Should Have Been Less Enthusiastic with Our Applause

Dad was ingenious. Each summer, our family vacation coincided with his paid speaking engagements. We thought it was normal. Traveling long distances in a car with two adults and four children {pre-air conditioning} to a remote family camp so our father could work all week while we, the kids, drove our mother nuts.

Pure bliss for us. Mom? That poor woman.

Dad scored a recurring camp invitation to the Rocky Mountains for several years. Oh, the memories, the scrapes, the madcap adventures.

The highlight of the camp each year, for me, was the talent show that dad MC’ed at the end of the week. I was continually amazed at the talent, or lack thereof, we witnessed. Singers, jugglers, musicians and would be thespians. Please people! Let’s try to have some self-awareness.

One year, a man of considerable, and I mean considerable, years came on the stage with his fiddle. What ensued was minutes of ear shrieking horror that was barely recognizable as a folk song. If you weren’t covering your ears, you were wishing you could. When the kindly old gent finished, the auditorium erupted in applause, cheers and much foot stomping. Thank the Lord. He is done!

The curtain closed.

Ah, the relief.

And then, unbelievably to our eyes, a bow came slowly slicing between the closed curtains as the old guy swung the curtains wide and stepped forward for an encore. What!?!

Maybe, we should have been less enthusiastic with our applause.

The auditorium was struck into complete silence. Please. Please. This cannot be happening.

He lifted his fiddle and a second song began but now the audience was not so polite. The grumbling started. The barely concealed ‘boos’ were emanating from the back.

Dad walked onto the stage and stood by the fiddling fool. He smiled at the audience, raised his eyebrows while shrugging and then began to clap. Taking our cue, we began to clap too. As we raised the volume of our clapping and cheering, the fiddling was overpowered with our own noise. We continued this way until the bow was lifted from the strings. Then dad gently grasped the man’s arm as he chatted with the fiddler and escorted him {bowing as he went} off the stage.

Now the applause was thunderous. What a night. What a man, my dad…

How to Spank a Keurig without Anyone or Anything Being Hurt

I panicked yesterday. I turned on my Keurig, waited for it to heat, inserted my K-cup and then pressed the brew button. Nothing happened but a small sound resembling a ‘clunk’.

This cannot be happening! My first attempt to solve my “You may not be having any coffee today” problem was to repeat the process all over again. Guess what, same result. So I did what any caffeine and sleep deprived person would do. I initiated the same steps again and again and again. My Keurig continued to give one ‘clunk’ for each of my efforts. Realizing I was getting nowhere, I unplugged the machine, placed it on a shelf in my pantry {giving Keurig a time out} and drove to Starbucks.

Last night I did not have any contact with my Keurig. I did not look at it. I did not talk to it. I did not touch it. My Keurig had let me down and I was nursing some very injured feelings.

This morning, I googled “how to fix a Keurig when it will not brew”. To my surprise, one of the fixes involved spanking {aka the burp and slap method}. Yep, that is correct. If your Keurig is being naughty, just give its bottom a good spanking.

After reading K-Cup Barista‘s tips for fixing my coffee maker, I decided to bypass all of the simple troubleshooting ideas and went straight for the spanking. Here are the steps:

1. Unplug the Keurig.
2. Remove the water reservoir and the drip tray.
3. Turn the Keurig upside down and give it a good 10 slaps on the bottom.

I followed the steps and after I was done, I plugged in my Keurig, replaced the water reservoir and tried it out. It did not brew but now I heard a ‘clunk’, a ‘chunk’ and a ‘gurgle’. Progress! I unplugged the machine and repeated the spanking all over again.

The result of that second spanking? Well, I am happy to report that my Keurig and I have come to an understanding about who is the boss around here. And…the coffee I am sipping is, oh so, delicious.

Check out the full post ‘What to Do if Your Keurig Won’t Brew‘ at K-Cup Barista