Category Archives: Humor

My Ragnar Runcation Survival

You’ve got three choices in life: give up, give in, or give it all you’ve got.

Who said this?  I have no idea, but I find it inspiring and true.

I should have sat down and recapped my Ragnar Florida Keys experience sooner, but I was only home two days last week and just didn’t have time.  But now so much of it is a blur.  Come to think of it, the experience was a blur while I was experiencing it.  No, drugs were not involved, but lack of sleep may have contributed to loopiness.  No worries though, because I KNOW I had fun and I know I did the best I could do, and I’m pleased with the results.

This was the fourth time I have done one of these relays, and the third time I had to run from Miami to Key West, which are the only two places in the US that were warm that weekend apparently.

My amazing twelve person team met up on Thursday afternoon, packed our two vans full of running gear, munchies, and our fun-loving selves, and took off for Miami.  Then we had to decorate our Ragnarrhea #2 team vans appropriately, which according to some is not appropriate at all.

Meadow Muffin, a stowaway, turned out to be our team mascot.

Meadow Muffin, a stowaway, turned out to be our team mascot.

More inappropriate images of our van.  You have been warned.

the front

driver side

our rear end

It’s safe to look now.

I was in van #1 (which means my recap will come from our van’s point of view), so we sped off in the darkness towards the start line, making it just in time for runner one’s 7 a.m. start time.  Then our first set of runs was fast, as these were the shortest legs for most of us and we were all coming in faster than expected.  Yes, even I was able to cut about 40 seconds off each of my 3.6 miles of my first run, having only been running again after an injury for 2 1/2 weeks.  It was all good though because 800 seems to be the magic number of milligrams of ibuprofen it takes for me to not feel my leg (ok, so maybe some drugs were involved).

Then we attempted to sleep outdoors, in the daylight, at Homestead Miami Speedway because you sleep when you can at Ragnar.  Some were more successful than others.

homestead sleep

The night runs were longer and I had to run 7.1 miles, 5 of which were on a torn up sidewalk (but I had some encouragement from an elderly couple waiting outside a restaurant, who clapped and cheered for me, though I’m sure they had no idea why I was out there running in the dark).  This would not have been a big deal if I had daylight to see and my leg wasn’t a concern, but whatevs, I just took more ibuprofen when I finished, stretched as much as I could and we camped out at another outdoor exchange under the stars…until it rained.  Most of my vanmates ran for the cover of our van at that point, except our next up runner who slept right through it.  And that’s fine, except we couldn’t find him again when the other van called to let us know their last runner was on her way.  Eventually he surfaced and we got to our next exchange in time.

By this point we were starting the cycle of our last legs of the race and we were still making good time, though I had already slowed down on my middle leg.  Once the sun came out, we all slowed down a bit.  It was hot, steamy, and mostly shadeless the rest of the way.  My last leg went over two bridges, and those were the best parts because a cool breeze came off the water, reviving me.  I checked the mile splits for this last 5.2 mile run once I finished and was not at all surprised that I had slowed a little with each mile.  My legs felt great (even the injured one- more ibuprofen), but the sun was cruel and hateful.  Usually Ragnar posts signs that say, “One mile to go,” but I didn’t have one of those.  I had two signs that were even better: “Half a mile to go” and “A quarter mile to go.”  At that point I knew I would make it, and Katy Perry chose that time on my playlist to “Roar,” so I sang along and made it!

Considering how nervous I was of reinjuring my leg and having to walk most of my runs, I only walked a short amount on the last stretch, and since I shaved off some time on my first run, even though I began to slow down, I didn’t go beneath my predicted time until my last leg, so I almost evened out at the expected rate.  As a whole, our team rocked!

That's me roaring in the middle! Love this team. Love this picture.

That’s me roaring in the middle! Love this team. Love this picture.

In our division we came in at 58/309 and 116/478 overall.

Can you spot our team's "signature"?

Can you spot our team’s “signature”?

A Dog is this Girl’s Best Friend

Why is it that “man’s best friend” is a dog and “a diamond is a girl’s best friend”? Sure, I like diamonds, but I’d rather have the unconditional warmth and love of a dog any day. Why do women come across sounding so shallow?  Perhaps a dog wearing diamonds would be a good compromise.

dog and diamond

Now that’s just ridiculous! I don’t do fru fru dogs, or any that could possibly be mistaken as a rodent.

Ok, so perhaps “man” in the man’s best friend phrase is actually meant in the more general sense of humanity.  Or maybe not.  Another stereotype is that old lonely women are crazy and have cats, multifarious cats, not dogs. Interestingly enough, though I often heard women tend to prefer cats, and men prefer dogs, that is not necessarily the case. I found a fun read with some silly dog versus cat people statistics. Click to read.

My husband and I are proud “parents” of two Australian shepherds, and to the surprise of many, a tortoise shell cat named Truffles.  We had her first, and I do love my kitty, but the problem is that she only loves me about five minutes at a time, while Dylan and MJ, my Aussies, cannot get enough love. EVER.

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I grew up as a cat person.  We had a few dogs throughout my childhood, but only the cats were allowed in the house, so I didn’t really bond with the dogs.  Then I moved from apartment to apartment, and keeping a cat was much easier.

My husband wanted a dog, so I told him once we had a house we could get a dog.  We wanted a frisbee dog, so I gifted Robert a frisbee one year for Christmas as a promise of the dog to come.  We were in our house for a few years before we finally decided on the breed we wanted and took the plunge and brought home Sir Dylan (we didn’t name him, and the only time he hears his first name is when he’s in trouble- “No, Sir!”).  A year later we got a baby sister for him, Mara Jade (we did name her, after Luke Skywalker’s wife). Now I can barely remember what it was like without them.  They seriously fill up my heart.  I spend a lot of time home alone while Robert is at work, except I’m not alone.  Truffles prefers to be alone, but Dylan and MJ are always as close to me as they can be. In fact, MJ’s head is on my foot as I type this, and Dylan is right behind me.  They know when I’m sad, when I’m happy, or if I don’t feel well, and they’re always there for me.

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My Christmas Kitchen Frenzy

It’s Christmas Eve and some may expect a simply stated, yet inspiring Christmas post from a writer who also happens to be a Christian.  Well, I’ve done that before.  Check out my Christmastime posts from last year.  I’ll run out of things to say that aren’t cliche.  So I’m going to talk about defying other expectations.

I recently overheard some grumbling about how all the women who do Christmas baking, decorating, and the like are taking women back in our advancements for equality.  What?!

First of all, there are plenty of men out there doing the same thing.  There was a year my husband made both an apple pie and a chocolate pecan pie, because he wanted to, and they were good too.

Second, who cares, as long as they’re enjoying what they’re doing?  I don’t do much out of the ordinary in the kitchen most of the year, but nobody wants to get in my way in the kitchen from Thanksgiving until Christmas.  I can and do cook, and even occasionally bake throughout the year, but not like I do for this glorious month. Most of the time, Robert and I team up in the kitchen, but I just spent three days holed up in the kitchen making candy, cookies, and bread to give as gifts to my close friends, and I loved every minute of it (except when I took a look at my doggies on the other side of the doggie gate- they couldn’t understand why Mommy wouldn’t let them in the room that smelled like Heaven).

My point?  If I am a woman enjoying what I’m doing, how am I setting the movement back for women?  Isn’t it all about equal rights and getting to make choices of what we want to do instead of being told what to do?  It’s not like my husband says, “Woman, get in that kitchen and don’t come out till you’ve made me 12 dozen cookies and a plate of toffee!”  He knows that would earn him an actual kick in the butt, the evil eye, and I’d eat my treats in front of him while not allowing him to have any… and honestly probably a few other punishments I feel I shouldn’t elaborate on since I just mentioned I’m a Christian and they would likely not be very Christ-like (though I could then write a post on forgiveness).  Robert recognizes that it’s my choice; of course, he doesn’t mind reaping the rewards of my Christmas kitchen frenzy, even though I don’t let him eat any until I sort out where all of it is going.

Sometimes what happens in the kitchen is about bonding too.  I found an ugly sweater cookie kit at CVS this year.  I baked the cookies, but Robert and I decorated them together and we had fun doing it. Sometimes moments in the kitchen are bonding times for families, and that’s ok.

ugly sweaters

Women, if you want to spend some time in the kitchen, don’t feel like you’re letting down womankind.  If you want to send your husband to the grocery store to pick up some cookies already made in the bakery, that’s fine too.  Maybe you’d rather just eat healthy snacks like celery with peanut butter for your treats, and that’s creepy, but its still your choice.  Whatever you choose, have a Merry Christmas!

Unapologetic Eater of Whatever I Want

Warning: some may find this post controversial… and I don’t care.

bacon roses

Is it just me, or in the last couple years has the percentage of people who cannot eat delicious foods increased?  Or are they just suddenly trying to make everyone who does enjoy them feel guilty by telling us how unhealthy we are?  By the way, that’s not true.  According to my physical and bloodwork, I’m crazy healthy, especially for my age.

But seriously, why is this suddenly an issue?  Is it as much as an issue as people are making out of it?  I blame the media and anyone profiting off the gluten free and otherwise yummy-food-intolerant people of the world.  That stuff is expensive!

And then there are those piggybacking on the food intolerant with the high and mighty, I only make my own soap, vegan butter, and non-enriched flour, and the rest of you are all going to die attitudes.  And those are the worst, because they rub it in, join Pintrest, and condemn the rest of us who do not live in bubbles and actually enjoy life and flavor.

There used to be a time, just a few years ago, when I could freely share my homemade Chrsitmastime goodies with friends and neighbors, but with everyone’s dietary restrictions and convictions, I now feel they will see me as spreading death.

If you share a picture on Facebook of any meal or treat you have enjoyed, you better be prepared for the backlash.  You’ll get the timid “likes” of those who know it looks good but are afraid to start an argument.  But you’ll also get the, “How can you eat something that had a face?” or “The gluten in that cake would kill me!” comments. It would almost be safer, I dare say, to share your opinion on someone’s post about Christian minority Obamacare for homosexuals seeking marriage after crossing the border illegally.  It’s almost like some people believe sharing recipes for this stuff should be illegal, like how to build bombs in your mother’s basement stuff.

I’m sure someone reading this will get fired up.  I may even get a lecture on the horrors of the food industry and how I am equal to Hitler.  I promise to smile and nod and keep scrolling right past that.  I will not apologize for coming from hearty stock or enjoying bacon wrapped (and fried) gluten. I am sorry so many others seem to be suffering from various ailments caused by gluten, or the guilt of eating animals, but I refuse to be made to feel guilty, and I will enjoy all sorts of glutenous (and gluttonous), nut-laced treats and meats this holiday season.  You may enjoy asparagus wrapped in spinach leaves and dipped in a light olive oil, but with all the tastiness out there, I find that offensive!

*This post was meant to be humorous and a bit satirical.  If you actually got offended, we do not share the same sense of humor.

Sequestering My Sequel

writers block

Writing a sequel for Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages.  That’s what I’m supposed to be doing at this exact moment, but instead, I’m writing a blog post about writing a sequel.  Why?  Because I’m looking for excuses to not work on my sequel right now and as long as I’m writing something, that’s all that matters, right?

Wrong.

I know.  I know.  It’s just like I said…an excuse.  Why would I even need an excuse?  So many reasons.

Writer’s block:  Today I am seriously NOT feeling my protagonist, or the plot, or anything at all, for that matter.  It’s just now, in this moment though.  I’ve been doing fine all along… until now.  The problem is I’m about to have a very busy several days in which I know I will be unable to schedule sequel writing time, so I’m feeling that added pressure.

Added pressure:  I’ve been working on this sequel for five months and I really want to get through this first draft and begin editing, but I’m only at about the halfway mark.  There is no time frame or deadline.  I’m an indie writer, so it’s all up to me, but I am the added pressure, because I want to have a sequel to offer to prove I’m serious about this book writing thing.  Also, I know I have more chances of getting noticed by readers if I have more than one book and the promise of an entire series.

Fear of sequel disaster:  It happens all the time in books and movies. We’ve all seen it, or read it, and felt sadly let down.  The first one is great, so a second is written or filmed.  But other than The Empire Strikes Back, which is my favorite Star Wars film, I have a hard time thinking of any movies or books in the second position that have lived up to the first.  Occasionally, a third can come along and help dig it out of a hole, but sometimes, once that car comes off the rails, it just becomes a larger train wreck.  I don’t want Drew to be part of a train wreck.  She means more to me than that and I want to get it right, for her sake.  I owe her (Drew is my protagonist, if you’re wondering)! So I have repeat performance issues.

But I really need to just suck it up and write, right?  I have to have faith that Drew can guide me and help me to be true to her character.  When I have alone time with her, as I do now, sequestered in my office, I need to build her life.  I can always go back and fix it later if I screw up too much.  Being a writer is much safer than parenting.  That’s what editing and revision are all about.  After all, I rewrote and deleted chunks in the first book. It’s acceptable to not be perfect at first.  Nobody has to know if I catch it before I publish it.  I can do this.  I feel better already.  I always do when I write it out. Now, can I do the same with Drew?

Anybody Remember Thanksgiving?

Save Thanksgiving!

thanksgiving turkey

In the midst of the rampant running commercialism of Christmas, it appears many Americans are now willing to skip Thanksgiving altogether in favor of sales where they will still overspend and pay the interest on said purchases for years to come (hence, they will really only have the immediate illusion that they have saved money). Last year Robert and I bought running shoes the day before Thanksgiving and saw people already camping out in front of the neighboring Best Buy for the sales the next evening (no, we weren’t trying to find a sale on the shoes either- we just needed new ones and were in the area).  They were completely willing to skip a lovely holiday meal with their families in order to be the first to get whatever piece of electronic equipment they had lived without all the time before that. And don’t get me started on how unfair it is that the people who work in retail are expected to happily forgo their family time in order to please the greedy masses.  Some blame Target, but Target was simply the host to the parasites.

This year, and for the last few years, Christmas began the day after Halloween (the greedier corporations began even before that), and Thanksgiving seems to have suffocated somewhere between tacky witches that appear to be flying into trees or houses and even tackier gigantic blow up yard snow globes with dancing penguins or hippy Santa Clauses.

I love Christmas.  It’s always been my favorite holiday, but in its rightful time and place, because Thanksgiving is an important American holiday.  The more commercial Christmas becomes, the more the true reason for the holiday is forgotten (many read “Jesus is the reason for the season” on Christmas cards but give it no thought or ignore it in lieu of getting presents), and the same and worse seems to be happening to Thanksgiving.  Christmas has merely been distorted; Thanksgiving is being forgotten.

In school, we learned that Thanksgiving was about pilgrims and Native Americans (but they were still referred to as Indians when I was in school) getting together and having a celebration of crops.  Ok, kinda true, but that explanation skips the whole idea of whom they were actually giving thanks to.  Yes, God again.  He pops up in all kinds of holidays, and is systematically removed from most of them.  Even Easter is questionable these days, and seriously, how can the purpose of that holiday be ignored or covered over? A fluffy white rabbit delivers candy?  God gets covered over because so many people want an excuse to have a celebration, but they don’t want the pesky reminders of the truth.  I’m not going to write a diatribe here; just pointing it out and moving on.

Thanksgiving was permanently established as a national holiday in 1941 to be celebrated on the fourth Thursday of each November, but it has been celebrated in various ways for the last four centuries.  Should we throw that all away now?  I like Lincoln’s words:

We often forget the Source from which the blessings of fruitful years and healthful skies come… No human wisdom hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things.  They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God… I therefore invite my fellow-citizens in every part of the United States… to observe the last Thursday of November as a day of thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.

We have so much to be thankful for.  Let us not forget where it comes from and cherish the time we have to gather with our families and friends.  Savor this time and think on your blessings before you move on to Christmas.

NaNoWriMo NoThanQ

I’ve heard people say that “everyone has a good book inside them.” That may be true, but many of those people should have somebody else write it for them.

writing novel

November has charged in with its National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) challenge for people to write an entire novel in just one month…because apparently writing a novel is just so easy that anyone can do it in thirty days.

Personally, I am insulted by this implication.  I understand the idea of sending out hope and motivation, and some people need a little shove, but the message received by many is that writing a novel is quick and easy; in fact, it can be done in one’s free time in as little as a month.  At least February wasn’t the month chosen, but couldn’t it at least have been a month with thirty-one days?  Heck, you could probably write a sequel then too.

Because I have written a book, I have had a few people ask me questions about or make suggestions along the line that now that NaNoWriMo is here, I can finally finish the sequel I’ve been writing since late June, as if all I needed was for it to finally be November, the magical writing month.  Sure, I’d like to have had my book finished and edited in July, but I’m happy with my pace.  I like to really feel my story and my words, not force them into existence just so they will, well, exist.  They may not be the right words.  No thank you NaNoWriMo, I would rather take my time to get it right.

I’ve never given this whole ordeal much thought in the past.  It’s like American Idol, right?  Everybody thinks they can sing, and everybody thinks they can write too. But I’ve watched the train wreck of Idol auditions, as most people have, simply for the entertainment of how horrible the performances can be, and how seriously the “singers” think they have talent.

NaNoWriMo is the Hunger Games of writing, in a sense, with the unprepared and untrained warriors.  No, nobody is killing anyone off.  It isn’t really a competition.  But maybe it actually is.  Think about it.  What will happen after all these one month novels are written?  Many people will likely choose to self publish them, flooding an already densely populated pool with novice novels.  Some of them may even be good with some editing, but how will anyone find them with so much to pick through?  So, in essence, these NaNoWriMo novels will dilute the quality of indie published works, making it that much more difficult to gain respect and credibility for the serious writers who know it takes longer than thirty days to write something  we can consider true literary quality.

My melodramatic summary if NaNoWriMo: It does little more than rape the seriousness and respect of true authors’ hard work.  Of course, these are just my opinions, and you don’t need to agree with me, even though I’m right.  I even know a few people participating in this writing challenge, and some are legit writers, but it goes against my personal principles as a writer.

What’s so Great about the Pumpkin Anyway? (Embracing My Birthday) or I Got a Rock!

I got a rock

I tried to let it go in last year’s rant, “My Spooktacular Birthday.”  Now that I’m turning 29 for the eight time, I really should just learn to embrace my birthday being on Halloween.  Maybe I need therapy…in the form of chocolate.

Ah, yes, chocolate.  Now that is one good thing about having my birthday on Halloween.  When I was a kid, once people realized they had forgotten my birthday in the excitement of Halloween candy and costumes, I often got guilt chocolate.  Sometimes teachers would make sure I got extra cookies if we did class Halloween parties.  This part was acceptable. Here are some other acceptable byproducts of having a Halloween birthday.

Autumn has always been my favorite time of year.  The weather is usually quite comfortable- warmish during the day, with a slight chill in the evening.

I look good in fall colors.

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and Garfield’s Halloween Adventure specials.

One year, my mom, my oldest sister, and I had a Lethal Weapon marathon (this was when there were only three).  That has nothing to do with my birthday being on Halloween, but just shows they loved me enough to do what I wanted to do that day.

I can play dress up on my birthday and not look like an idiot.

My birthday isn’t on Christmas. I can’t imagine having to compete with baby Jesus on my birthday.

I know I can now count on Facebook to remind everyone and even suggest they all give me gifts.

This year, I vow to really let it go and embrace the day (though I really wish all calendars had “Terri’s Birthday” printed on them instead of “Halloween.”  Mine does.  My very smart husband had ours custom made.

Terri’s BIG Adventure

My big adventure involved a bike.

pee wees bikeNo, not that bike.  This bike:

old school huffy

My one-speed Huffy.  I’m old school like that.  I believe in keeping it simple.  That’s why I basically stopped playing video games once they got more complicated than this.

Atari game system

Yep.  I didn’t take to the idea of a smart phone right away either.  I’m not afraid of technology, but I don’t really see my need for most of it.  I don’t have time to take classes to learn how to use these things.  Seriously, we rented a car for a recent job I had and the owner’s manual was only a few pages thicker than the manual on how to operate the in-dash navigation, music, blah, blah, blah system.  Ugh!  Not for me.  I figure out how to do the basics and leave it at that, because I’m happy with just that.

And now I have gone far down a rabbit-hole.  Back to that BIG adventure.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t so big after all, but I think there’s a lesson in it.

I am training for a half marathon, my first half marathon actually.  First of many or the one and only?  We will see when December rolls around.  I’m in week five of my twelve week training program and since I began this I have encountered what is a new obstacle in my running experience of the last three years- shin splints.  It’s really just my left shin, so I guess it’s just a shin splint, singular.  Anyway, whatever it is, it’s uncomfortable and I don’t like it.  Every time it seems to vanish, it tries to sneak back up on me.  Creeper!  The last two runs I did this week were really fast for me as of late, which I was proud of, but the phantom shin splint had once again taken hold, so after the previous day’s speedwork training, I realized I probably needed to take a day off before my long run day of eight miles.  But a day off that was not scheduled felt like a wimpy cop-out, so I decided to go for a bike ride instead.

Where I live, we have many walking and riding trails that connect at various parks and such.  It’s really a beautiful area and it happily encourages the many older people of this once primarily retirement community to remain active.  And then there are the younger people like me who also get to enjoy this beautiful fall weather (in Florida that means we no longer feel as though we will melt when we walk outside further than the mailbox).

So I’m riding along, enjoying the peacefulness, smiling at and good morninging the other pedestrians and cyclers, admiring Bambi’s mom as she runs across the trail a mere ten feet ahead of me, and then I’m coasting along with a disconnected bike chain.  I pulled my bike off the trail and attempted to reattach the chain.  How hard could it be?  And it wasn’t so bad getting the chain back up on the large gear, but the little one was not cooperating.  I tend to be clueless in these matters, but I sure wanted to give it a try.  Secretly, however, I was hoping for a more Disney movie scenario, where the deer would come back and somehow be able to either help me fix the bike, or give me a lift home.  Neither occurred.  I had been riding for almost six miles and the distance between this spot and my home was probably only about three more miles or so back, and since I was capable, and I had no other choice, I began to walk my bike home.

I don’t often ask for help from strangers, and I probably wouldn’t have known how to ask the deer either, so even as I saw a few friendly faces along the way, I kept walking.  It wasn’t so bad because it was a gorgeous setting and the weather was clear and as brisk as it can be around 75 degrees.  Then thoughts began to turn to my impatience.  Some time back, while I was still a high-strung teacher, an inconvenience such as this would have been a huge dilemma and I’d be muttering under my breath because it would now take me longer to get home.  After all, it’s not like I could run…with a bike.  I had to walk.  Then I remembered a tee shirt my husband I and should have bought when we had the chance because one can no longer buy this treasure- I’ve looked.

if I stop running

Obviously the same case applied to walking, but it would just take longer.  Patience is important and it’s something I’m learning about.  Instead of growling at squirrels or stomping my feet, I figured the walking was still good cross training for my shin since it wasn’t hurting and I resolved to enjoy the beauty around me.  And so I walked 1.1 miles until an older gentleman asked if my bike was broken.  I told him my chain had come loose and I couldn’t quite get it back on.  He stepped off his bicycle, asked if he could take a look at mine, and he fixed it in about thirty seconds.  He had me test it out and I thanked him as we both went our separate ways.  In another 1.79 miles on my bike, I was home.  It was a good day.

How to Like Everybody, Even if You Don’t Know Them Yet

friendship

It’s possible some readers may be offended by what will seem like my oversimplification of a complicated idea, but I don’t care.  Sometimes we are what screws everything up and creates complication; furthermore, wisdom can come in simple ideas, so give it a chance.

I very recently met an older, retired man, let’s call him George, who revealed to me something that revolutionized my thinking.  He was volunteering at a race I was working at and said he loved doing volunteer work because he got to meet so many interesting people.  Ok, so here comes the fortune cookie wisdom.  George said he liked everybody, even people he hadn’t met yet, until they gave him a reason not to.  Pause for a bit here, reread the simple statement, and let it rest on the tip of your mind for a bit.  Then, let it invade your more intimate thoughts.

What does it mean to like everybody, even the people you don’t know yet?

If you are truly honest with yourself you will admit that you probably do not like everybody, especially not strangers, because, well, they are strangers to you.  We fear the unknown.  It’s human nature, so don’t try to lie about it.   The only times I know of when people are automatically accepting of other human beings is when it’s a baby, a celebrity people think they know because they’ve read the check-stand tabloids, or people with common friends who may have come into the picture with a high recommendation from someone whose opinion is respected.

Strangers, true strangers, generally have to work much harder for acceptance.  Why?  Again, the fear of the unknown, personal experiences, or maybe just seeing, or thinking we see, what we don’t like in ourselves in someone else.  We may live in a country with an “innocent until proven guilty” law in the cases of possible crimes committed, but we tend to assume everyone is guilty when it comes to taking a chance and building a relationship.  If only we could get over our past hurts and consider each person a new opportunity for friendship instead of waiting for the moment they will stab us in the back, what a difference it could make. But we’re human, so we are wary; and we are human, so we hurt people.  Maybe we just need to take more chances.  Everyone you let in will hurt you in some way at some point- we cannot help ourselves, whether on purpose or accident- but think of how many more relationships could be formed and all the good that could come from it.

Remember these two things: we are meant to love one another, and to someone else, you are the stranger.