“We can complain that rose bushes have thorns, or we can rejoice that thorn bushes have roses.”

Oh, Abe Lincoln, you were so, so wise.

His quote is just another pessimist vs. optimist, glass half empty vs. glass half full analogy. I strive really hard to try to see the silver lining in things. Is it always easy? Absolutely not. Does it annoy other people? Oh, absolutely! It used to make me second guess myself every time there was an eye roll, a back turned, or a comment made when I would make a joke or try to lighten the mood.

Then a very, very wise man said this to me in an email and made me change my viewpoint:
“Think about this , you have to feel sorry for difficult people because they have to live with themselves 24/7 and all you may have to do is to deal with them a fraction of this time. Secondly, if you try to kill them with kindness you may disarm them, and if you are mean to them back you will lose because hopefully they are so bad that you are not capable of being this bader to them,and if you can beat them in their game of being bad, you are actually bader then them and ultimately you may win the battle, but you will lose the ultimate game of life.”
Please forgive the grammatical errors; English is not his first language.
Hamid probably doesn’t know it, but his email made a profound impact on my life. Whenever I encounter a “poop,” I repeat his words to myself. They have to live with themselves 24/7 and luckily, I only have to encounter them for a brief period of time.

I have to wonder, what is it that makes us such crab apples? Why is it ever acceptable for anyone to be rude? Why do we frown more than we smile? Why are we not finding the silver linings, drinking from our half full glasses, and appreciating the roses? I’m not talking about being “Mary-freakin-sunshine” all the time, but, really, is it so hard to smile at people? Everyone has shit going on in their life. Everyone is carrying their own weight, their own burden, regardless of the front they may put on.

In case you can’t tell, I am a quote person. One of my absolute favorites said by the famous Lou Holtz: “Life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you respond to it.”

Yes, life sucks sometimes. We can all agree on that. But why would you cry when you could laugh? I’ve never understood that. I do understand everyone is different and has very different personalities and ways of dealing with things; it’s the beautiful thing that makes this world go around. We probably wouldn’t have some of our famous pieces of art if we didn’t have disturbed, troubled artists. (I’m totally talking out of my ass here, I’m not much of an art person, but I think I’m probably right...)
Ok, what’s my point of all this random rambling? Yeah, I’m not entirely sure either. Be nicer to each other. Smile more at perfect strangers. Jump up and down when you see people you’re excited to see. Wave at people stopped next to you at a stoplight. You may feel silly, but I highly doubt you’ll be ruining someone’s day. You may, in fact, annoy them so much they feel like annoying someone else – perhaps with a smile.

Grateful Day

I have these days (well, mornings, really) where the grass appears greener, the sky bluer, and the pep in my step a bit higher. I am overwhelmed by all the good in my life. I start counting all the things I am grateful for and the list goes on and on and on and on. I’ve tried “gratitude journaling” before and because I am me, I have a hard time being consistent with it (there will be a whole post on this later, don’t you worry!) I am inclined to think when this overwhelming feeling takes over, someone is telling me to stop and smell the roses. To stop letting negative thoughts creep in. To appreciate all of the many wonderful people in my life and all I have in life. When something sparks this feeling, my mind starts to reel, thinking, counting, and multiplying all of the good things in life. You see, what I’ve found is when you stop and give gratitude to one thing; you begin to see the gratitude in all (ok, most) things. For example (this may or may not be the domino effect that happened in my brain this morning):

1) I love my dogs. Sure, they are naughty and aren’t the best behaved dogs in the world, but they are mine. When they sit and stare at me with smiles on their faces (yes, of course, they want something I have, duh) my heart swells with gratitude for these unique creatures in my life.

2) My mind starts to wander to my family. I am anticipating a Sunday Funday with them this weekend and am pretty excited for it. Every family has their unique quirks, traditions, and dysfunctions. I am very grateful for mine. Team Lauf, baby!

3) I go in the kitchen, where our couch is still sitting, and look at the dirty mess that is my house right now. Yes, I just admitted my house is dirty (sheetrock dust!) and messy and guess what? I’m okay with it. For it means I have a house to live in. The mess will likely be taken care of sooner rather than later, but my gratitude for this structure will remain.

4) I grab my phone, which is next to my sleeping husband, who arrived home from work around 10pm and was probably up until some ungodly hour typing notes. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.

5) I eat my breakfast and watch the Today show. Do you get where this is going? Wow, I have food to eat. Wow, I have cable TV to watch. More gratitude.

6) I kiss my hubby and pooches goodbye and get into my car. Car to drive = gratitude. Being able to afford gas in the tank = gratitude.

7) I began driving to work (I have a job!!! A good one! With benefits! Using my degree! With great coworkers!), smiling at the people next to me while stopped at red lights (another day, another post). I am thankful for the grass that looks greener, the sky that looks bluer, and the extra pep in my step.

8) I decide to call one of my best friends, who I talk to fairly often on my way to work and who has experienced the excited, overwhelmed (overwhelming?) grateful Lauf a time or two. She does not answer, but that does not stop me from being incredibly grateful I have her in my life. I begin to think of friend after friend, some who are on active duty, some who are in the reserves and some who were…lost at sea. I am grateful for all of them, for the impact they have (have had) on my life.

Now, of course this could continue all day with everything I see and everyone I encounter, but it very likely won’t. You see, it is a daunting, exhausting task. The more you look for the good, the more you find. And I can’t count that high.

Can you?

Kitchen Shenanigans

First of all, WOW. The response from my last post gave me goose bumps. Multiple times. More “me, too’s,” and lots of support. Thank you.

You may or may not have noticed one of the taglines to this blog is 'kitchen shenanigans,' which I fully intend to live up to. Since I haven't been able to spend much time in the kitchen lately, I thought I would share one of my "concoctions" I ate for breakfast this morning. At work, people are always asking me for breakfast ideas (and lunch ideas and dinner ideas and snack ideas and protein ideas...) and I think people forget, or don't know, how fun it can be to "wing it" in the kitchen. Concocting doesn't always end well, but in this case, it was a very yummy success!

I credit the grocery store handing out samples of cranberry cheddar cheese for this delight. I had a Kashi 7-grain waffle (which always remind me of my time spent at Hilton Head Health) on hand and a waffle with greek yogurt and blueberries didn't appeal to me this morning. Note: I am a breakfast fanatic. I love it. I would eat breakfast food for every meal of the day if I didn't know the value of other proteins and vegetables. I rarely eat the same thing for breakfast two mornings in a row. Anyway, I decided to use the waffle as my "base." I then put a thin layer of Trader Joe's fig butter on the waffle, fried two eggs, and had a little of the cranberry cheddar cheese in the middle. The sweet and salty combo was just right. It was ohsoyummyinmytummy. You could, of course, use a piece of (stone ground) whole wheat toast instead, or go sans bread, but this is a combo worth trying!

What's your favorite "concoction?" (Concoction! I must find a new word to use that doesn't make me giggle...)

Spontaneous Abortions/A Married, Childless Girl’s Rant

I bet that grabbed your attention. Did you know that the medical term for a miscarriage is “spontaneous abortion?” Most people aren’t comfortable with this medical term referring to a pregnancy loss less than 20 weeks, so the term miscarriage is often used to replace it. There’s your fact of the day.

Here’s another fact: according to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), studies reveal that anywhere from 10-25% of all clinically recognized pregnancies will end in miscarriage. 10-25%! Did you get that? That means a little under 1 in 4 recognized pregnancies will not end with a crying baby.

Why am I writing about such a taboo subject? BECAUSE IT SHOULDN’T BE TABOO. I just told you (a little under) 1 in 4 recognized pregnancies will end in miscarriages. Why is this something people don’t/won’t/can’t talk about? Yes, it is a private, personal thing - but I can’t help think if more people would talk openly, it wouldn’t have to be such a damn hard topic to talk about.

As most of you probably know, we had a miscarriage in January 2011. It was an absolute horrific experience I would not wish on my worst enemy. It was painful, physically, and much more so, mentally and emotionally. With everything in life, things somehow become easier to deal with when you hear a “me too.” I cannot tell you how many “me too’s” I have heard over the past year and a half. However, most of the time, it was whispered during a hug or said in a very hush-hush manner. Why did I not know this before I became pregnant? I can’t help but think those initial blows, full of self-loathing, guilt, and a sadness I can’t even begin to describe, would have been slightly less painful had I known what a common occurrence it was. This brings me to my first impact statement for this post – please talk about miscarriages. Please don’t be afraid to bring it up in conversations. Please don’t be afraid to talk about babies or kids or anything related around people who you happen to know have had them – trust me, we can see the pity and regret in your eyes once you begin your sentence and quickly changing the subject or backtracking only makes it worse. I do realize this is my opinion, so, please, if you have a different one, share it.

This brings me to impact statement #2. This is more of a soapbox rant, but if it prevents one person from making a careless, stupid comment, or at least think twice before doing so, then this post was a success. People, it is NOT appropriate to ask someone whom you do not know very well “when are you going to start having kids?” If you have the audacity to ask this question, I wish this is the response you would receive: “Actually, asshole, we have been trying to have kids for (insert a number of months, years, or decades here) and have been unsuccessful. When are you going to start thinking before you speak?” I bet if one person ever answered your thoughtless question like that, you would never again ask the question. I’m not just talking about miscarriages here – IVF, adoption, etc, it all applies.

But, wait, didn’t you just say to talk about it? Well, as with everything, there is a time and place. Cousin’s graduation? In the dentist’s chair? In line at the grocery store? Not the most appropriate time to strike up this heavy of a topic. Especially with someone you don’t know very well. All I’m asking is for people to think before they speak. Let me share my most recent experience with this type of behavior to shed a bit more light on exactly what I mean.

On Mother’s Day this year, I went to one of our local grocery stores to, duh, pick up groceries. They were handing out flowers for Mother’s Day. A very thoughtful gesture, yes? Not so fast. They were handing them out to every female over the age of 20 who walked in the door. I quietly accepted mine from the girl who forced one into my hands, wishing me a “Happy Mother’s Day!” I smiled and said thank you. When she left her station moments later, I placed the carnation back in the bucket, thinking that would be the end of it. I picked out my items and went to the checkout. An older gentleman was cashiering at the shortest line. I placed my items on the counter. I saw the older gentleman gesture to a young man out of the corner of my eye. Oh, no. For the second time that day, a flower was thrust into my hands and I was wished a “Happy Mother’s Day!” I, again, smiled and said thank you. (Looking back, that is where I went wrong, where I should have spoken up.) The conversation proceeded something like this:

Older gentleman: “Should you be working today?”
Me: (confused, because I had to teach a class later that day, and for a split second I thought he was referring to that) “Yes?”
Older gentleman: “It’s Mother’s Day, you shouldn’t be working.”
Me: (now understanding and very red in the face) “I actually don’t have kids, just my 2 dogs.”
Older gentlemen: (after being quiet for a moment) “Well, you still shouldn’t be working today.”

Um, ok?

After refusing to have my carnation wrapped in tissue paper, I exited the store and with every step I took, I became more and more furious. Please don’t get me wrong. I know this whole flower thing was meant to be a thoughtful, kind gesture, aiming towards showing customer appreciation. I saw many mothers come through the doors, thrilled with the gesture. The true intention was not lost on me. However, I began to think about other people I know in my life. A friend who has had 3 miscarriages, waiting for their first child. A friend’s sister-in-law who just went through her second failed round of IVF. Another friend who is in her 40’s, single, and would love nothing more than to be a wife and mother and it just hasn’t happened for her yet. People who have recently lost a child, only child or otherwise…the list went on and on in my head who may have possibly had their day negatively impacted by such a small encounter.

A long story to illustrate my point (true Lauf fashion, people!) Because typically I try not to complain unless I have a solution I think will work better, here’s a tip. A question worded “do you plan to have children?” (if you’re that curious about whether or not I’m popping out kids anytime soon) sits very well with me. I can give you a yes or no and provide more information only if I want to. Not that it’s any of your bizness! (sarcastic font) :)

The Treadmill's My Boyfriend

Once upon a time, I lived with a sweet gal by the name of Michelle. We would often have long talks (usually after indulging in one too many adult beverages) about our (lack of) love lives and how men were…difficult. Yeah, difficult. Around the same time I was training for my first half marathon – logging many hours on the treadmill. Note to anyone running their first road race – this was NOT wise! During one of these profound heart to hearts, I stated that “the treadmill was my boyfriend.” The more I began to think about it, the more it made sense. I was dating a treadmill and it was the best relationship I had ever been in!

How do I describe this 10 year long affair between the treadmill and me? Sometimes our relationship lasts for months on end, seeing each other multiple times a week, and others…well, we see each other from across the room, but make no contact. Many people think I use the treadmill – I get to call the shots and the treadmill doesn’t have a say. I control the duration of our time spent together, the exact speed of our trysts, and the elevation of our climax. I’m humane, sometimes I dread jumping on the treadmill. After a few long minutes with some gentle touches, I am usually warmed up and ready to go. Some days we keep our pace slow – up and down, rolling terrain. Other days we alternate between fast and slow. Fast and slow. Faster. Slower. Usually during the spring months, we spend hours upon hours together, keeping our pace slow and steady until the end is near, when together we sprint to the finish. Those are the days where I feel the best getting off (the treadmill), drenched in sweat, exhaustion, and glory. Sometimes I watch TV while interacting with the treadmill. Some people think this is wrong, but for me it provides a distraction until I can get off. I really enjoy listening to music while engaged with the treadmill. If we’re taking it slow, I enjoy the sweet music of Boys II Men, or my most recent favorite, ADELE. If we’re doing a speedy session, I pretty something with a good beat we can keep pace to, like the Black Eyed Peas or Shinedown.

Often times I find myself wondering why I even find the treadmill appealing. Then I begin listing the reasons. The treadmill doesn’t care what I wear or if my hair is messy. It always makes me feel better about myself. It is there when no one else is. I can travel near and far, and if I look hard enough, I can always find it. It hardly ever talks back – if it does squeal or whine, lube usually takes care of it.

Now that I'm married, I still date the treadmill on and off. As rocky as it can be, it's a relationship that isn't going anywhere. We’ll be together through thick and thin, till elliptical do us part.

I encourage all women, even men, to have a relationship with the treadmill. The best part of being in a relationship with a treadmill? You can always trade in for a newer, fancier model!