Why do the places that we call home mean so much to us? Why does it matter what homes we buy, how we decorate them, and what belongings we fill them with? Why does sentimentality sometimes scream louder than reason, demanding that we hold on to possessions that we no longer have room for? Or spend too much money on a house that we love, that we can no longer afford? Why do separating spouses wage legal battles over who keeps the living room sofa and who keeps the dining room table? Why does our known idea of home matter so much that we cannot conceive of redefining it in a new place or in a new way?
Around this time every year, as we stand on the precipice of warm, summer days, human resource managers around the nation send their hard working employees an email with the obligatory reminders about proper summertime office attire.
“Ladies, no spaghetti straps, and gentleman, no sleeveless t-shirts…”
While I see the concern about an over exposure of bare female shoulders and knobby male knees under the harsh glow of fluorescent office lights, I’d like to take this opportunity to distribute my own set of suggestions, but not just for the months of May through September. I’d like cubicle conquerors around the nation to look deep inside and truly consider the following guidelines as they apply to Casual Fridays nationwide.
That’s right, you heard me, I’m coming at you, Casual Friday.
For more than a quarter of a century, America’s favorite dog breed has been the Labrador Retriever, unequivocally, and unabashedly. In colors of comforting yellow, intrepid black, and goofy chocolate, the Labrador Retriever is the quintessential companion animal.
When I turned 16 years old, getting my drivers permit and learning to drive a car was a rite of passage. It meant I was maturing, earning responsibility, and finally transitioning from childhood into adulthood (which, I can say now looking back, is way over rated). I insisted on taking my written permit test on the day of my sixteenth birthday. When I passed, my only motivation was to get behind the wheel. My Dad would be my primary driving instructor. Continue Reading
I have an addiction. Admittance is the first step, they say, so I am boldly daring to walk in the light.
I have an addiction to multi-tasking.
The most well-functioning relationships that I have witnessed seem to excel based on one individual’s position as a “pusher” in the relationship, while the other is the “puller.” That may sound disparaging, but it is really quite efficient.
Pushers and pullers allow for balance, harmony, and long-term success.
Think of every couple that you know. How often have you said to yourself,
“She definitely wears the pants in that family,” or “It’s his world, and she’s just living in it.”
A partnership must be symbiotic to succeed, with each half playing a role that helps the partnership to excel as a unit.
To me, he is the heat of the summer sun and the salty smell of ocean waves.
He is a warm cup of coffee first thing in the morning that revives and strengthens – fortifying my spirt for the day that lies ahead.
He is forgiveness for my weaknesses, and an unerring confidence in the strengths I am blind to see in myself.