Thoughts/rant on this "Fifty Shades" thing

I admit, I was curious to see what all of the hype was about and, since I happened to have downloaded copies of the "Fifty Shades of Grey" series by E.L. James I thought I would give it a go.  I popped them into ibooks and dove in.

The first thing that struck me is that the writing wasn't great...it reminded me of something written for teens and I SERIOUSLY hope that was not the demographic they were going for with this novel.  The inner monologue of the main character was inane and I found myself skimming chapters full of gratuitous and completely unnecessary sex scenes. I honestly think I may have enjoyed the book better if there wasn't a love scene every four paragraphs.

For me, the most disturbing about this phenomenon is the Christian Grey obsession.  The man is a psychopath, a sadist, a control freak and, quite frankly, dangerous and should NOT be an ideal to which any young woman (or old woman as some of the followers of the novel have proven to be) should aspire.  Period.  We may have seen a softer side as the novels continued but I have felt compelled from halfway through the first book to issue a warning.

Ladies:

If you find a man, no matter how rich, handsome, sexy and powerful he is, if he stalks you all the way across the country when you tell him you need space that is NOT normal.  If he convinces you that the only way you can be together is to do things that you are not comfortable with it is NOT healthy.  If your boyfriend admits that he loves punishing you and hitting you you RUN away from that situation because you WILL get hurt, physically and emotionally.  If they are so controlling that he tells you what and when to eat, who you can and cannot see, and goes to the extreme of buying the company for which you work just to be able to have control, that is a sickness and you will lose yourself in the process of making him happy.

The "heroine" Anastasia continually talks herself out of common sense.  I'm all for exploring new experiences as long as you are in a loving and respectful relationship and have clear expectations.  What I am not cool with is the glorification of the "kinky fuckery" as the book calls it ad nauseum. This girl had protected her virginity despite other advancements from nice, normal men but her resolve melted at first sight of Christian and was gone in minutes instead of the weeks and months it takes to build a mutually trusting relationship.  It is not cool, not normal, and not healthy.  Ana doesn't even get a chance to breathe before being pressured and smothered by her boyfriend.  How is this even acceptable in our society?

Please, don't look for your own Christian Grey.  Most women who get into relationships such as this end up broken, hurt, and abused.  Shelters across the country are filled to brimming with women who fall in love, think that they need to sacrifice themselves and their morals to make a man happy and stay in the abuse because they are convinced that love is more about pleasing their husbands and boyfriends than creating a two way relationship.  Just remember, the story doesn't always end with the power of love triumphing over deep seeded mental problems.  Most of the time, the story ends badly.

Love
Kris

I have one book to go but I have to cleanse my palate with a book that doesn't make me cringe constantly first.

A Change for the Better

I think that I have always known that the way that I live my life was ultimately poisoning me.  I have smoked, drank, eaten poorly, watched too much TV and not moved my body enough at various points in my life.  Looking back, I can see that the times when I have been happiest have been the times when I have treated myself the best. So now here I am, facing demons again.

Being a road warrior is awesome - flexible scheduling, getting to meet new people in new places all the time.   But it has its drawbacks.  Like having to grab quick meals on the road...usually resorting in choices between Casey's pizza, McDonalds or Subway.  Some choices are better than others but all were slowly seeping into my system.  Making me feel fat, lethargic and lazy.  Behind the wheel is not the best way to have an exercise and activity filled lifestyle either.  So I know that I have to make a change.  One for real and one for good.

It all started with a documentary - something that I picked up just on a whim and from recommendations from friends and family.  Forks over Knives.  And while I am more skeptical than to buy into all of the claims of health and happiness it puts forward, it did sprout a seed that I had planted in my brain long ago.  Natural is better.  Not rocket science and so simple that it makes me feel dumb not to have caught on long ago.  So I did my research.  Everyone from Dr. Oz to the CDC and many stops in between and I made some decisions.

Chemicals are killing me.  Sugar, caffeine, Artificial sweeteners, nicotine, processed foods.  It was all making me tired and heavy.  Last year when I did the HCG program I felt amazing.  Truly great.  Even just eating 500 calories a day I felt great because I was eating good healthy foods, lean proteins, fresh vegetables and fruits.  Over the past year, however, I have slipped back into old habits, put on an appalling 30 pounds over the day I got married and my energy level has plummeted.  So no more chemicals.  Sounds easy right?  uh huh.  Easy until you go without your morning coffee, without your diet soda or sugar laden cereals or breakfast bars.  Easy until your kids beg you to go to McDonalds where even the french fries have sugar in them.  Easy until you realize you live in Newton and there is no whole foods markets within an hour radius of my house.

Not easy.  But hopefully worth it.  Today is day two - low dairy - vegetable base - organic.  I'm exhausted and my head hurts but I can feel the toxins leaving my body.  Without getting graphic, bathroom times have been much easier.  From the research I've done, this is normal, getting my body back to basics.  By next weekend I should be feeling better and then I get to add in moderate exercise.  Stay tuned for more updates!

The Making of Window Woman

Introduction:

Linda watched her daughter race up to the end of the line at the zoo.  The preschool field trip had gone well and now they were making a single file line to wait for entry to a show featuring trained tropical birds.   Linda was glad for the opportunity to chaperone the trip and thankful that she got to stay at home with her children as they grew.  Money was often tight but they always had what they needed and wanted, a vacation every year, a nice Christmas and beautiful birthday parties.  Her daughter was one of a kind.  Ever since she had been adopted five years earlier, Linda had realized just how much having a child could change your life.

Back in the line, the little girl at the end of the line soon began talking to the two kids in front of her.  Some unseen force seemed to propel those two kids to the back of the line while her daughter moved forward.  The child repeated the process on the next set of friends talking, circling, and slowly moving toward the head of the line.  By the time the doors to the theater opened, Linda was amazed to find that her daughter was marching in directly behind the teacher, the first patron into the small arena with the prime seat to see the action.  Not one of the children in the preschool class seemed to have noticed the girls clever rise from the back of the line to the front and nobody complained about her cutting in front.

Little did Linda know that the girl she saw at the age of five moving effortlessly through the crowd to become a leader would use that skill throughout her life.  The girl was constantly circling, mingling and gently rising through the ranks to become a centerpiece of anything she did.  That girl was (and is) me.  Window Woman, Gutter Girl, and the sales manager and CEO of CNA Company.

I live in Iowa (please think corn and not potatoes).  Born and raised here, I became proficient at moving through the farming communities and participating in such rural events as "The Corn Carnival" and "Cow Chip Throwing Contests".  Iowa is a place dotted with communities where everyone knows everyone else.  It's a place where John Deere trucker style hats are worn without irony or fashion conscience and rusty Ford pickup trucks are the primary mode of transportation.

Before you cast me as the same bucktoothed, tractor riding, Wrangler wearing farm girl (unless you are into that kind of thing, then by all means feel free.) Let me explain that my more formative college years  were spent in Kansas City surrounded by the Core Four who taught me about the finer things in life.  By using cheap housing and sometimes interesting roommates I was able to forge that same appreciation and carried it back to Iowa with me.  I am a salesperson in every sense of the word.

I drive.  It's the primary function of what I do.  My card may say Sales Manager, my job description may say "in charge of in home presentations and product sales" but really what I do...is drive.  A short commute for me is a location an hour or less away.  Most days the trip on my odometer reads 180 miles or more, 5 days a week, 2-6 hours a day just me, the road and my audiobooks and podcasts.  My office staff seems to never runs out of tiny, backroads towns that nobody has ever visited voluntarily, to send me so 90 percent of each of my days consists of this view through my windshield.  I refer you to the song "Interstate 80 Iowa" by Heywood Banks for more information.  If you have ever travelled that stretch of highway you will be LAUGHING hysterically after viewing that video!

I love people.  I love them the same way that a farmer loves his cattle.  He nurtures and cares for them, provides them with their needs, but, in the end, the farmer has a dark purpose, and that is steak night.  I come into people's homes, comment on their framed photographs of their grandchildren, smile warmly and speak intelligently.  I educate the consumer on what to look out for in the big bad world of home improvement contracting. "Don't worry little calf - - um prospect - - we are here to take care of you." And in the end, I get my steak dinner and my customers get what they want and need and (unlike my analogy of before) nobody has to die in the process.  

OK so that's a little harsh, and most times I get poked and prodded like rump roast at the butcher shop as well.  People are a timid bunch they are afraid to get what they want in case I don't come through for them.  Nobody likes to look like a fool.  So no matter how long the drive, how many cups of coffee it took me to remain awake and alert, how much gas station pizza and individually wrapped snack cakes I had for lunch, how much  my back aches or how early the dog woke me up to be taken out to poop, I pull up to the house, turn on the smile, and start building the trust we deserve.

My company has been amazing to me.  They took me in at a place in my life where I was single, had 2 kids (one of whom was a newborn) and was in danger of losing my house, and they took a chance on me.  The products are superior which makes my job very easy at times, and very, very difficult at others but I really do love people and want to help make their homes comfortable.  (Besides, I make a darn good living doing it).  This collection of stories is meant to share some of the good, the bad and the ugly about what I do, who I meet, and the thoughts that are inevitably running through the minds of every contractor that you have come into your home as well.  

Payne Stewart is quoted as saying "If you can't laugh at yourself, then how can you laugh at anybody else? I think people see the human side of you when you do that."  Welcome to the human side of sales.

What doesn't kill you (aka Corky the Car Guy)

Chapter Three - Coralville, IA

It was already nearly 10:00pm  when I, disguised as mild mannered Window Woman, packed my cases in the back of the van, tucked my signed contracts into my case and pulled out of the townhouse complex in Coralville.

The lazy morning had turned into an action packed afternoon full of stops at the outlet center for a return and the umpteenth trip to Lowe's for yet another haul of stuff to be installed in the house.  I had my sticky note from my husband in my hand and efficiently moved around the home improvement warehouse picking up hedge trimmers, outlet covers and water filters along the way.  I got to the checkout with my purchases and realized as we were unloading that, instead of six electrical outlet covers, I had six light switch plates.  So I let the kind cashier ring through the rest of my order and bolted back to get the additional outlet covers.  Got back, changed out the order, paid, picked up my bags and...rrrrip.  The bag holding my precious purchases spilled out all over the floor.

As I  gathered my belongings into a new bag the lady behind me in line who had witnessed the entire affair including my sprint back to electrical commented "This is just not your day is it?" Lady, you have no idea. I thought but did not say.

At the late hour after my last appointment, my choices for food were limited to McDonalds and McDonalds so I stopped off for a fish sandwich and a Diet Coke and got on the Interstate with the latest JD Robb novel playing on the iPod.  The trip was short lived however, as fifteen minutes into the journey, I was met with a scent of burning rubber and the unmistakeable quiver of a blown tire.  Somehow I managed to steer the van off onto the shoulder, flip on my hazard lights and spew a line of expletives before calling my husband for the number to Roadside Assistance.

I know at this point you must be thinking "Window Woman with your amazing skills and qualifications a road warrior of your caliber should be able to handle a simple tire change", and you would be correct under normal circumstances, however I was on a dark stretch of rural interstate where semi trucks were whipping past my vehicle at a minimum of 70 miles per hour (see exhibit A on right), I was wearing a wrap around sundress which billowed up Marilyn Monroe style every time a gust of wind blew by and, most importantly, I had no clue where the spare tire on the van was located.  Yeah yeah I know - something I should definitely know (and I do now) but I couldn't even find the owner's manual that I had taken out of the glove box so I could program the on-board garage door opener.  In hind sight, that would have been a perfect time to review the "emergency roadside" section of the handbook.

After a lovely conversation with Karen at the insurance dispatch center I was told that a truck would be available at or before 11:45pm which left me a little over an hour before this distressed damsel would be rescued.  After a mere 20 minutes I received a phone call on my cell from the tow truck driver who identified himself as "Corky" (seriously, even if this were a work of fiction I couldn't have come up with a name that ironic.)  I explained the dilemma and he promised to be there in about 20 minutes.

During the waiting period I utilized my time by organizing and purging the glove box, reading a few pages of my ebook, and finishing up the now luke warm sandwich and watered down Diet Coke.  True to his word Corky pulled up behind me with yellow lights flashing and came out to assess the situation.

"Looks like your tire is shredded," he said in a flat tone that indicated that I might not actually know that is what was wrong.

"Looks like it" I said, "that's what you are here for." I explained about the mystery of where the spare was located and set to work on finding it.  Corky's theory was that it must be under the cargo hold of the back of my van.

Let me stop to explain something about my van.  On any given day my vehicle is stuffed to the gills with sample cases, car seats, kids toys, random items on their way to Goodwill, office equipment and various forms of office paperwork.  It is my mobile office, mobile showroom, and quite often my mobile napping spot. Unloading such items is no easy task but Corky dutifully began the search for the spare by removing and neatly lining up the cases against the side of the car furthest from the rushing traffic.  Still no release hatch.  We slid out the back seats of the car.  Still no release hatch.  At this point I am doubting the validity of Corky's credentials and volunteered to Google search the owner's manual from the Saturn website.  A few minutes after looking at the iPhone rendering of the release knob, he found and removed the donut from the undercarriage of the vehicle.  Success!

Once the spare was found Corky went to his tasks which, thankfully, he performed quickly and efficiently.  He quickly lived up to his quirky name by indulging me in happy small talk about how he came to the profession of emergency vehicle assistance, the personal lives of all of his office co-workers and making not so subtle inquiries about the nature of my business, all while I was attempting to repack the Tetris puzzle that makes up the cargo hold of my van.  He was a good guy and - if you ever find yourself stranded anywhere near the Iowa City metro area, Campus Towing is the one to call (be sure to ask for Corky)  He even indulged me in a little blog worthy self portrait and didn't complain at all when the flash of the iPhone camera kept lighting up his safety vest like a nuclear flashpoint.

The last thing of which Corky was obliged to remind me was that the donut wasn't meant to sustain speeds of over 50 miles per hour.  Mind you, I am now approximately 80 miles away from home, about an 1.25 hours of driving at the posted Interstate speed limit of 70 mph and the time was now midnight (insert scene of me bashing my head against the steering wheel of my vehicle repeatedly here)

Heeding his warning, I pulled off at the next exit about a mile up the road with Corky following with his yellow lights still whirring away and headed towards Highway 6 otherwise known as "The Long Way Home." By this time I was in serious need of caffeine, and yes, a bathroom.  Surely, somewhere along the stretch of state highway, someone would have the presence of mind to have a 24 hour Casey's or Quicktrip planted at an intersection.  You would think that, but you would be wrong.  Small town after small town rolled by and no sign of life was readily visible for miles.  The "Stop Ladora Stora" windows were as dark as a Hitchcock movie, the Cenex station in Brooklyn closed up like a mob suspect in a police investigation.  The only thing I could see through the bug juice that was now caking my windshield was open road, ghost towns, and the occasional possum, raccoon and one very curious doe that thankfully stayed OFF the road.  It felt like the road was winding backwards as I crept along at 45mph praying that the thin piece of dusty rubber on the back of my car would hold.

At long last, the oasis of Grinnell shimmered in the distance.  To see the small town lit up with street lights felt to me like a cowboy driving across the Brooklyn Bridge and catching his first glimpse of New York City.  Here I knew, was at least a 24 hour grocery where I could find relief and refreshment.   I had never been so excited to see a Kum and Go (yes, people in Iowa visit a convenience store called Kum and Go and it does not degenerate into a fit of giggles over the name.  That's alright, get it out of your system.) in my entire life, at least here would be hot coffee and clean bathrooms.  Hallelujah.

The time was 1:30am when I filled my coffee cup and brought it to the counter where David, the also very chipper, cashier checked me out.  "How are you tonight?" was the obligatory question.  I glared at him through bleary, tired eyes and muttered, "I survived." David chuckled "You know Nietzsche once said that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger but what he didn't say is that it hurts a lot." I weakly smiled and returned the platitude. "Tomorrow is another day, wait, it's tomorrow already it can only go up from here."  "Don't worry," he replied. "It can always get worse."

As I pushed my way out the door, I retorted back  "David you are a bright shining piece of optimism." and climbed back into my ailing vehicle.  Nietzsche, he quoted freaking Nietzsche to me, this night cannot get any weirder.

At 2:15am I finally cruised into my driveway to find that Chad and the older boys were still up watching some awful movie on Netflix.  Still stimulated by the recent round of caffeine, I finished the film and collapsed into bed.  It didn't kill me, so I guess the logical conclusion must be that I will be stronger.  **crossing fingers and hoping**

Decoranging

One of the funnest things about this move has been getting to find new homes for all of my old stuff. And also getting new stuff to add to it. There is no doubt that there is a lot of stuff to put up but wow what a difference it makes toward making the place our own. Office dining room and entry way are done except for paint in the entry. Upstairs is next!!

Office windows: Potratz Sign I made from open stock photography.  Some of the little collectibles I have collected over the years, the digital photo frame my husband got me for my birthday and the Office sign that has been collecting dust for years as well.

Dining Room: I got all of the coffee themed pictures that I have collected over the years up on the walls.  It feels nice that everything has a place and it works so well in this room and I got the china cabinet all stocked and put together and looking elegant.

Entryway.  The bookshelf has a wedding picture and bouquet on top, a picture from our honeymoon in a driftwood frame we bought in Key West as well as a bowl of sand and coral from snorkeling in Belize.