My Divorce from Motorola

Do you remember those grey boxes about the size of an unused bar of soap? There was a tiny screen at the top displaying a line of…..numbers? Can you guess? The PAGER! Yes, the old trusty pager: people would call a number to reach you then type in a number to be sent to your pager(what geniuses), then once we got the page we had to either find a telephone booth, use your work/home phone or if you were really ballin’…a really big cellular phone. My love for Motorola started way back in time, where if you weren’t a doctor you’d get an arched brow tossed your way for having one. Drug dealer? Not hardly. Tech junkie in the making? Hell yeah! My loyalty to Moto continued all the way to 2009. That’s way more years than I’d like to admit. Phew! There was the occasional affair with NEC, Samsung, LG, Ericcson, Nokia, but Motorola was built tough and made for me. Clumsy? No problem. The first few bumps, drops and bruises were free.

As the new frenetic telecom upswing was born, it wasn’t long before I ditched the pager and bought a cellular phone. The evolution of mobile communications has been fascinating – and sometimes head-spinning to say the least. I’ve had cellular devices that were as big as a bowling ball bags and some that fit neatly into that small 5th pocket on my jeans. Cute, yes. Functional? Well that’s another story.

Lately, my current weakness has been smartphones. And being the loyal little lady, I managed to stick with my favorite brand of course. Good ol’ Moto. Nextel i930, Moto Q and Motorola Q9h Global... At each juncture of my mobile madness, I would say my device truly surpassed all others. Nothing compares to these way advanced features! I was so wrong.

After years of lusting after the right device that could do everything except use the bathroom for me, The Holy Grail, I am excited to say that I’ve crossed over. Yes, I’ve divorced Motorola and after almost ten months, I haven’t looked back. The scroll keys, frustrating upload/download speeds, confusing and unreliable media options? Things of the past.

I have stepped into the crackberry realm. Now when I say “This device rocks!” I mean it. For real. Write it down: Blackberry Bold 9000. Now THIS is pure gold. Every aspect of this device packs a punch. First and most important is the trackball – what did I ever do without it? How did I function with only a scroll wheel in my life? With the Bold 9000, I can manage my exhausting world and entertain myself effortlessly from the palm of my hand. I now have everything I need and everything I don’t necessarily need. Seriously, how cool is that? A media player with phenomenal sound quality and enough space to hold my insane music library, a gig of device storage and expandable storage option, video capture, functional and reliable internet access that looks like a mini laptop browser, email, email and more email. iPhone, eat your heart out! Blackberry is coming and they’re coming strong. I must confess, I’m not one for the touchscreen but I do like apps and guess what?? I got a qwerty keyboard along with a screen that looks like a handheld version of my flat panel (the quality is bananas!), and Blackberry App World!!

This is a union that will not be broken. I may have caught on a little late, but I’m Hooked!! If you are a girl on the go and you’ve grown weary of untangling cords and searching for more than one device at the bottom of your handbag, the Blackberry Bold just might be for you. Give it a shot. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.

Diet: Was It A Thursday?

I confess. I’m guilty. I’ve lived by the D word time and time again. Yes, I mean the dreadful DIET! Over the course of the past decade I’ve managed to (ahem) pile on the pounds that came so gradually it’s hardly noticed – without a complete obsession with my body. I admit, my head was in the sand so I wasn’t ‘watching my body’ as closely as I did when I was younger. And I refused to give overt attention to the mini shopping spree’s I’d go on to supplement my spreading waistline. (What can I say? I’m a writer. I can be aloof.)

One day I woke up and I was way overweight and not at all feeling comfortable in my skin. I felt sloppy, sad, disgusted, angry, disappointed in myself, you name it. So, the D word became a way of life for me. The result? One failure after another, and an extra ten pounds for my effort. Excellent!

Atkins, South Beach, Apple Cider, Celery Soup (yuck!), low fat, Acai Berry… I did ‘em all, to no avail. So I ditched the D and joined the gym with the enthusiastic fervor of a marathoner in training. Surely this would work if I just counted my calories and followed my husband’s strict fitness lead. I did shed a pound or three but after almost a year I was without a doubt in better shape but the pounds just weren’t falling off. “Has my metabolism changed?” I wondered (cuz surely it wasn’t my late night woman-on-the-go noshing). So my ritualistic gym-time with the honey waned and became as visible to me as my treadmill turned clothes hanger.

One monumental day came about back in April. It’s ironic that this was the one time I didn’t note the day on some healthy living site, my schedule or task list. I remember it vaguely. I was in my usual rush, grabbing my lunch on the go and I paused outside of Wendy’s. It just didn’t feel right. It's time for better choices! Five minutes later I was in my office having a breadless sandwich. A delicious chicken salad made with fresh grilled chicken, a sliver of bell pepper, onion and a zesty yogurt spread. All fresh, no additives or preservatives. Healthy eating with my usual bottled water. The satisfaction was so great, it followed me. I wanted every meal to be so guilt free and satisfying. And away we go!

Five months later and I’ve dropped 26 pounds. It slid off almost as innocuously as it appeared. I’m a girlie girl so it was the summer of the sundress for me. I noticed a couple pairs of sandals were slightly bigger and blistering my toes. But that’s it. Intentional or not, I hadn’t been paying attention. It wasn’t a mission this time. 26 pounds. Hard to wrap my arms around that. It feels good, can't deny that, but I still have a few more to go. Maybe I can’t find the celebration in me cuz it wasn’t some trailblazing D word. It wasn’t just something I was doing to look better. It was that thing I had to do to feel better, to be good to me.

This morning I dug into my early-fall wardrobe and I realized, “Oh shit, I can’t fit my clothes!” On one hand, cloud nine. No lie. The other side of the coin was my prep time to get out of the house had been used up on clothes. Where’s the celebration? Twenty-Six pounds is a huge achievement for me. I’m the chick who celebrated five pounds with every diet, no matter how bizarre. Why can’t I celebrate now? Maybe it’s because I feel a celebration in me every time I make the right choice about what I put into/on my body. I love myself a little more everyday for that. Maybe that’s the celebration. I’m happy, I’m healthy, I run every morning and I’m loving my body. Wow! That’s huge. One day in early April, I decided to change my point of view, and I changed my life. I think I feel a celebration coming on.

Just Blog It Already!

As I sit here, searching my mind for something deep and prolific to blog about, I find myself at a loss. Me! The woman who has an opinion about everything. There was a time when I could sit down and let ‘er rip; just unleash the beast within and ride with it. But in this the age of blogging for dollars and self-promotion, I confess, I feel a tad intimidated. That’s not from lack of topics, it’s more a desire to lay something down that’s “meaningful and relevant” to make my readers go “Hmmn”. After burning my brain for ‘blog ideas’ and seemingly coming up blank, I realized something new about myself. I’ve been writing fiction for so many years that it’s been so much easier for me to exist behind my characters. Being the real me is effortless in my non-technological relations so why have I found it so hard to hit the keyboard and say “Hey cyber-world, this is what I think!”? Isn’t it usually the other way around? Aren't people usually less inhibited in cyberspace? What’s my problem? I don’t have the answer to that, nor do I intend to spend a single minute doing a psychological profile to get to the bottom of it. Instead I will take the ‘baby steps’ road. I have a lot to say, a lot to share and plenty of knowledge clunking around in this head. I’ve got a zany personality and I’m a DIY kinda girl -- everything from beauty products, editing, publisher hunting, healthy eating and living, fitness, home decorating on a dime -- and I can’t help but shout my knowledge from the rooftop. My husband jokingly calls me MacGyver cuz if there’s a way to make it happen, I will! So please stay tuned. Once I shed this reticent skin – that is so not the boisterous in-your-face me, I promise not to disappoint. All I need is a toothpick, a #2 pencil and a wire hanger. MacGyver lives, baby!

When Did it Happen?

As summer comes to an end, I find myself in a more reflective mood than usual. Eek! I can’t seem to recall the defining moment that I became a card-carrying, tax paying, contributing member of grown up society. Seems like just yesterday when my only concern was where to find chalk to draw a hopscotch board, how fast I could fly down mini-bike hill or not having a care about what I ate. Gone are the days of mama hollering to turn off those lights and take out the garbage, when the biggest responsibility was to make sure I was inside the minute the streetlights came on. These days it all registers as a minor blip on my radar while I worry about stocks, my 401(k) rollover, paying bills, collecting rent, mortgage payments, school funds, volunteering, accountability at work, home and in my social life, and on it goes. Yet I hunger for the days of yesterday. Is something wrong with that picture?

I now understand that there is confirmed truth to the words “Youth is wasted on the young”. Truer words have never been spoken. Yes, I think sometimes it is okay to embrace my inner child. Dancing in the rain—or like no one is watching, watergun shootouts with the kids, and playing tag in the park. But let’s face it, no one wants to see a grown woman hogging the swings, trying to squeeze her way down the slide or dashing to the ground to fight for the prize from the piñata. It’s official, I’m a grown up. It’s only taken me a few decades (ssh) to accept that.

I’m not against being young at heart, that keeps us spiritually youthful. I just long for the days when it was easy. Days when the mention of Bernie Madoff, Client #9 and AIG didn’t register. Enron and SEC? Not a care about those entities or the daily barrage of the all too familiar heart stopping headline grabbing scandal. Whatever, let’s go shopping! But that was then. Without effort I’ve become a full-fledged expert on finance, politics and healthcare reform. As an adult now, I see the true value in being a child. Not a care in the world. Where to park my money wouldn’t matter if my only income was still mama’s wallet. Oh the blissful youth!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-grown up. I just tend to look at the big picture and I feel inundated with left and right deception from the very people we count on to help guide us in securing our affairs. I’m left asking “What does this mean for my future?” Has the value system in our world suddenly changed so dramatically or am I just paying more attention because without my youthful innocence I know what’s really at stake? Did that expensive education actually pay off or am I just an adult because I have to be?

Whatever the answer, it wouldn’t matter. The big picture prevails. I will press on and forge ahead, accomplishing what my heart desires. I will put my shoes in the right place when I walk in, get online pay my bills, turn off the lights when I leave the room, honor my writing deadlines, hook up with my people, cook, clean, chill with my friends online, watch some reality TV (guilty pleasure du jour), a cartoon or two, play in my makeup and dance in my living room. No more mini-bike hill for me. Oh, and most important: be accountable at work – I have a family there, too, that relies on me. Grown up, right?

I guess when you clear away all the clutter, we’re all still children at heart. If we allow our moments to grow with us, is it possible that we may find the key to our happiness? I decided to give it a try. Be happy in the moments of today and not unhappy because I won’t allow myself to stop longing for yesterday’s moments. I’m not the same little girl from way back when. It’s all real now. Try with me. Let’s play. The world is our playground. The game’s called A Peaceful Life.