Thursday, May 23, 2013

I ran, I bled, but I didn't fall down

In September of this year, I'm going to turn 35, and I decided I want to be able to run a 5k for (or around) my birthday. There are all kinds of reasons to want to do this, not the least of which is the fact that I'm pretty sure the Doctor will never take me in the TARDIS if I'm incapable of running a few hundred yards without collapsing. Because running is the third most common thing companions do, with "being awe-inpsired" and "redirecting the crazy Doctor" being the first two.

I'm not at all physically fit; it's even worse now than when I worked in an office. I'm a freelance writer--I sit at my desk or on the couch with a laptop most of the day. We've also just come out of a crazy-long and cold winter, so my body is more accustomed to curling up under a blanket than jogging. When a friend posted about the Couch-to-5k training app on Facebook, I thought I'd give it a go. I rarely pay for apps, but this one was $2 and totally worth it.

You can play your music through the app and a trainer voice pops up and says things like, "Let's warm up with a brisk walk," or "Walk" or "Annnd, jog!"  There are 27 days of programs that you are supposed to do over up to 9 weeks. You start out walking 1.5 minutes, running 1 minute. Each week, the app takes you up a level until, hopefully, you're running three miles.

So, I took my phone and app out to the local park where there's a little gravel track. My brother-in-law suggested I might be happier running on a nearby hiking trail where there are no people and it's scenic. I took a pass on that suggestion, though. You guys, tree roots are not my friends. I think we can all agree that the biggest downside to me attempting to run is that I might break a leg. Or, at the very least, twist my already screwed-up ankles. I definitely don't need to add tumbling down a steep incline in the woods to my safety issues.

The little gravel track is peaceful and scenic enough and comes with the added benefit of being made of pretty small gravel. So, I feel like when I fall, it'll be a softer landing.

I took the virtual training app for a test drive yesterday. The workout was thirty minutes, and about half way through, I thought I was going to die. Surprisingly, not because I couldn't breath and I felt like a giant was suturing my side (although both of those things were true). I felt like I was going to die because the back of my left heel was on fire. Almost, but not quite, literal fire.

I do a lot of web writing on all kinds of topics, and I've read a ton of articles on this type of thing. They all say things involving the words "pain" and "gain," where pain is the horse you have to put before the cart. So, I kept running. At some point, the heel stopped hurting, and I congratulated myself for "hitting my second wind." You guys, is it super apparent at this point I have no idea what I'm doing?

Anyway, I finished the run/walk, and the trainer girl from the app said "Way to go" or something similar. I drove home, and the first thing I did after walking through the door was take off my shoes. Because one of my feet was feeling super sweaty. I took off my sock, and thought, "Wow. How'd I get so dirty..."

But then I realized that it wasn't brown dirt or mud caked on my sock. It was blood. My heal hadn't hit a second wind, it had died a slow and horrible death. I buried the sock in the garbage, but I revived my heel with peroxide and a hot shower.

Then...I did it all over again today. But in different shoes.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Thoughtful Tuesday: Through a Christian Looking Glass

I know I'm posting Tuesday's post on Wednesday again. This time, we'll blame it on the fact that my husband's out of town; without my live-in scheduler, everything is late.

I mentioned that we're watching the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series as a family. For hardcore fans, we're in the first few episodes of Season 3. Chris made a comment one night that got me thinking about the way we view things as Christians. I'm paraphrasing here, but essentially, he said:

"This is definitely NOT Christian, but there's still some Christianity there..."

And other than the fact that all the kids carry crosses (with no Biblical tie-in that I can remember, so it doesn't really count), there's not really some Christianity there. But...there's Christianity in us. We see the world--fictional or real--through a Christian looking glass.

I'm not talking about watching the show while being filled with condemnation because the plot lines are about demons, or there are vampires, or there's a witch, or there's premarital sex. Not that I'm condoning that stuff, and I'm sure there are people who'd be shocked we're watching this with our 12-year-old son. Have you been to middle school, though? Honestly, he's not learning anything new with this show.

I know not everyone will agree with me on this, and that's okay. I also think the route you take with this depends on yourself and your children. I grew up reading and watching fantasy--I loved the adventure, the heroism, the wonder of it all, but I never wanted to join the occult or become a witch. And I've tried to convey that understanding to my son: What takes place in a fictional world were teens battle monsters over a gaping mouth into hell has very little to do with the real world.

So we don't take away lessons like "Vampires are cool, I want to drink some blood" or "It's okay to romp around with demons as long as they've had their soul restored." These can't be real lessons, because those are fictional situations that happen in a fictional place where fictional people make both poor and wise fictional decisions.

Besides, we don't watch these types of shows for the lessons. We watch them because they're fun, they're far off of reality, and they allow us to rest a bit and forget the tedium of the day. And also, because there are some super funny bits in there, and we like to laugh.

After saying all that, I think my husband's right. The first time I watched this series was in my early 20s, and looking back, I realize I was neither a Christian nor viewing through a Christian looking glass. This time around, I have seen the Christianity in it. I'm not saying Joss Whedon hid Biblical principles in Buffy; I don't know Whedon's stance on Jesus, but the Internet seems to think it's on the negative side. What I'm saying is that God can use any format for his message--some people might remember that time he used a donkey.

The essential thing to remember is that we see God's message when we're looking through the lens of Jesus. And sometimes, the message is personal--it's between us and God. Sometimes, it's corporate--everyone sees or hears.

Here are some of the messages I've personally received while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer with my Jesus glasses on.

1.  Sometimes, doing the right thing sucks pretty hard, but that doesn't let you off the hook. Early on in my Christianity, I bought into the idea that eventually I was going to reach this place of "experience" where following Jesus would get a lot easier. I was looking at all the metaphors a bit too literally. While you can do enough "spiritual running" that your prayer and obedience and Bible study muscles work better, following Jesus can be really, really hard sometimes. Submission to Christ does come with that wonderful "peace that passes all understanding," but it also comes with some difficult choices.

With Buffy, obedience to her "Slayer calling" comes with some difficult choices. Ultimately, she has to choose that over Friday's date-night, over studying for classes, over spending time with friends, over relationships with family...even over the lives of people she loves. It's not exactly the same thing, I know, but Jesus calls us to choose him over all of those things too.

2. It's dangerous to go alone. The infamous tagline from Zelda is pertinent in both the Buffyverse and real life. How many times does Buffy set off alone to fight the monsters because she wants to protect her friends, because it's not their fight, or because "she's the one and only Slayer?" That usually goes bad for her, and someone else shows up to offer a bit of help. And in the end, she's not even the only Slayer.

It's dangerous to go alone in the real world, too. Luckily, God never meant for us to do that. He's provided his Spirit to dwell with us: a little bit of our own "slayer" powers, direct from God, meant to shine light into the darkness of our world. But that's not all. God also gives us friends and family and people we just bump into on the street. He gives us our own Willows and Xanders and Watchers, and through them he speaks advice, admonition, and love. Sometimes, he even sends them to help save us when we're trying to fight the monsters alone.

3. Forgiveness is available to everyone. I'm pretty sure there's not a single character in the Buffyverse that doesn't, at some point, do something at least a little bit terrible. Even the good guys make horrible decisions; even the good guys become the bad guys on occasion. But it's almost a running theme that even the bad guys can be forgiven. Was there ever a guy more wicked than Angel? Definitely not in the first few seasons of Buffy. What about Spike, the wise-cracking British vampire? Terrible things, and even so, they are eventually redeemed. Not everyone is redeemed, of course. There are evil things that stay evil. Because redemption requires you to want it.

Again, it's not at all the same thing--because these fictional situations involve vampires and curses and souls in a glass orb. These aren't things that translate to real life. But forgiveness does.

In real life, forgiveness is available to everyone. Even the bad guys can be forgiven. In fact, if you read the Gospel...Especially the bad guys can be forgiven.

And that's the part that I see most clearly when I watch Buffy through my Jesus glasses. Because it reminds me that I'm not perfect. I've got my own monsters. Sometimes, I'm the villain of the story, even if the story is small and only has a single character. But I'm not alone. And I'm not powerless. And I'm not hopelessly lost in the dark.

Because God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of self-control. God has given me a slayer spirit--not to fight fictional monsters, but to allow his light to shine on, and defeat, the real demons that lurk in this dark world.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Ten Activities That Are Harder Without My Husband

This is Monday Listicles post. Because on Monday's it's hard to come up with blog posts, y'all. And also, all my creative energy is being siphoned by some other projects right now. A picture of the proof of that creative energy to the left. There are 50-some sticky notes taped to my wall. Taped, because sticky notes aren't nearly as sticky as they'd like you to think...

Anyway, in honor of Chris being gone for five days (which is not the longest I've ever been away from him, but it is the longest he's ever been away while I was home) I thought I'd share ten things that are a lot harder to accomplish without my husband around.

1. Drink a soda. We don't regularly keep soda at home, and I try to drink mostly water and hot tea. But I don't drink coffee, and sometimes you have a headache that just screams for liquid caffeine. Those times, I buy a bottle of soda from the local convenience store. The problem is, the nearest Pepsi-bottling plant must have some glitch with the machine that seals the bottle caps to that plastic ring. Normally, you give it a quick twist and it snaps free; sometimes I get a cap that's welded together. Chris can normally open them. When he's not around, I've got to break into my soda with a steak knife and a pair of kitchen scissors. You guys, a glass of soda should never entail broken skin, band aids, and a stream of carbonation with the force of a Super Soaker.

2. Laundry. The laundry room is in the basement, which creates all sorts of issues for me when Chris is gone. First, there may or may not be goblins/Silence in the basement. Second, there are two sets of stairs between the bedrooms and the laundry area, which means double the chance I'll fall because I'm carrying a basket and any notion of a center of gravity in my body is erased. Third, I'm short enough that I have to hang over the washer to get socks out of the bottom of the basket. Earlier this morning, I almost fell in. My washer almost ate me. Do you think the goblins would shut the door and turn the cycle on if I tumbled all the way inside?

3. Take out the garbage. This one doesn't need an explanation. I don't normally touch garbage. It just sort of handles itself. Except when Chris is away.

4. Anything involving cat litter. See number three.

5. Sleep. As much as I complain about the fact that Chris snores and thrashes about in the bed (one time, he gave me a bloody lip), I sleep better when he's in the house. I've been sleeping with the hall light on while he's gone. I also keep my glasses on the pillow next to me. Because there's nothing as terrifying as waking up to a man holding a gun only to put your glasses on and realize it's the treadmill and gun rack merging together in your degenerative sight.

6. Cook. Half of my kitchen is out of my reach. It's like I'm a toddler in a room full of stashed cookie jars. I could drag a chair or stool over, but that's a lot of work, you guys. It's so much easier when I can ask Chris to fetch me down a bowl or cup.

7. Get ready for bed. On a normal night, I'm up later than everyone else, and when I'm ready to sleep, I turn off my computer and a few lights, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. Without Chris, I get in and out of bed a dozen times. Mostly to check the door locks, which I've already checked but can't remember whether I've checked. Or which I remember checking, but I can't remember when I checked if I was 100% certain the deadbolt was turned. Also, to recheck that I've blown out the candles that I didn't even light that day, because that was yesterday. And then I lie awake wondering if I'd left the candles burning from yesterday until they went out on their own, and wasn't it a miracle the house was still standing? (And probably, Chris should just skip this one if he's reading my blog.)

8. Use the entertainment center. My husband plays musical chairs with his...musical system. There's always a new piece of equipment in the rack or there's a new set up. And there are too many remotes, and sometimes they're old and crazy looking. Luckily, I've got a 12-year-old boy who comes home in the afternoon from school. I think boys come with some sort of gene that integrates them with remote controls.

9. Turn off or on the ceiling fan. There are three ceiling fan and light combos in our house. I can reach the strings for the one in the office, but not the living room or bedroom. Chris always leaves them set to fan on, light off. Which is a pain when it's dark and I'm trying to climb on the coffee table or bed to change the setting. Especially when there's a tangle of blankets and cat on the bed. There was a near miss last night that almost involved a broken leg, a pissed-off cat, and a ceiling fan no longer in it's place.

10. Remembering to cook dinner. Since Chris comes home everyday around dinner time, and he's usually vocal about requiring some sort of food, I tend to remember to cook. When it's just me and Tucker, it's easier to forget unless Tucker's in one of his "eat the entire house" stages. Otherwise, he'd possibly go days without eating and never say a word. I've had to make it a point to have dinner at a normal time anyway.

So...despite the fact that my husband is, at times, the most aggravating person I've ever met--I definitely miss him when he's gone. And not just because he makes things a lot easier when he's around.

What about you? What things do you notice when your significant other's gone?

Don't forget to check out the rest of the Monday Listicles, too. This is the 100th list, and they're having a free-for-all Monday party. '

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Commentary While Introducing Buffy to my Family

Post warning: This post is heavy on the Buffy the Vampire Slayer references. Feel free to skip it if you aren't a fan. Other posts will resume shortly. Or on Monday. Maybe.

My sister let us borrow her entire collection of Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs, so we've been watching them the past few weeks. Chris and Tucker had never seen the show, so it's been fun introducing them to the characters. Even more fun is hearing their commentary.

Much of the first season, most of Chris's commentary revolved around two themes:
  • This makeup/plot line/villain is a bit cheesy or cartoony.
  • They really need to kill off Cordelia.
Tucker was a bit more forgiving regarding the cheese-factor, although he said things like, "This is probably going to be like Merlin or Doctor Who. They'll get more money and the monsters will be better."

Of course, season two proves Tucker right, because can you get a better monster than Angelus? And even Cordelia is less "makes people want to get stabby" as time goes on. Chris also says that Xander is getting more likeable.

But my favorite commentary from Chris centers around Willow. Because so far, she's his favorite female character and is second only to Xander. Give him bombshell cheerleader, sexy slayer, and awkward dork, and who does he enjoy the most? You guys, I love this man.

Here's a smattering of Willow-related commentary from my husband after one and a half seasons of Buffy:
  • Willow is asleep on a computer keyboard when Giles wakes her and she says something weird about tadpoles. Because she has frog issues. Chris says, "Oh, you do that! You're a lot like Willow." Once, I was already asleep when Chris came to bed. He was trying to arrange the blankets or something and I told him, "Stop talking and put back on your green pants!" Because apparently I have dreams about undressed leprechauns.
  • Willow is talking about talking to a boy and is worried that things will get awkward and silent. Chris says, "You probably worry about that, too, don't you?" I say, "Well, I'm not a sixteen year old girl who's trying to talk to boys." Chris stares at me. I admit, "Yes, sometimes."
  • Willow has an extremely awkward conversation with...anyone. This isn't really a one-time occurrence. Chris says, "That's just like you. That's how you talk to people, isn't it?" And I have to admit, sometimes it is.
I wonder...Does my husband like Willow the best because she reminds him of me? Or does my husband have a penchant for awkward, dorky girls on the shortish side, and that's why he likes me? Either way, it doesn't matter. I do wonder if he's going to keep making Willow comparisons once things get complicated for innocent little Willow...

Friday, May 10, 2013

Faithful Friday: Apathy, It's What's for Dinner

I'm really TGIFing and glad this week is almost over. Technically, it's 30 minutes into Saturday morning as I write this, but it still feels like Friday to me. Or possibly Thursday. All the days have smooshed together this week, which is evidenced by the fact that I wrote and posted the Thoughtful Tuesday post on a Wednesday without realizing it.

Perhaps it's the lingering mist in the mountain, the failure of spring to have sprung, or the contagious spirit of end-of-school burn out, but apathy has been par for the course this week. Except for a bright spot here and there throughout the past few days, I've had a hard time really caring about anything. I've been working with muddled thoughts, sluggishly dragging myself through obligations, and fighting the urge to nap every other hour.

I posted this to Twitter last night: "Apathy. It's what's for dinner. Because I don't care enough about any one food right now to make a choice." I forgot that my sister just started following my Twitter account, and she texted me to see if anything was wrong. It seemed like way too much work at that point to explain it all. I copped out with a vague, "It's just been one of those weeks." Although I did assure her it was pork chops for dinner. Because I have a kid, you guys. You can't go feeding your kid apathy, even when you have a hard time caring about things like dinner.

But then I totally burned the pork chops to an inedible crisp when the grill caught fire. That's going to have to be another post, though. One I'll save for when I'm feeling less apathetic and more hilarious.

Anyway, I've been pondering these feelings of apathy for a couple of days. Why don't I feel like writing, blogging, praying, speaking with others, and doing lots of stuff that normally brings me peace or excitement or understanding? I sort of wanted to blame it on something easy, like hormones. Biology would totally get me off the hook for any responsibility. But I knew that wasn't quite it.

Then, this evening, I read a post from my new blog friend Jonathan over at Turning the Pedals. In it, he talked about how so many people who blog are spending so much time on optimizing their content and integrating tips and tricks to ensure a readership or visits or stats. He advocated a return to what he called "unblogging," which is actually "blogging" at its most basic: just writing because you need to get it down, because you love it, because you want to share something with whoever happens by.

While there's nothing inherently wrong with all those things many professional bloggers do, it does something to blogging. It changes it a bit.

And I realized that I was doing that same thing in many areas of my life. I so was busy concentrating on the bells and whistles, the photograph measurements and font choices, the statistics and the top tips...that I forgot about the activity under it all. I was apathetic about writing blog posts because I was starting to wonder if I should be writing on certain topics to address "my niche." And I was daunted by the fact that I didn't really know what that was. But the apathy wasn't just related to blogging. I could feel it everywhere.

No where was it more tangible than in my faith. I've been slightly apathetic for a few weeks about church. I couldn't put my finger on it, but now I know why. I've been very involved lately with administrative and other such elements within our church. Time spent in and around the church was time spent working with rules and numbers--statistics and top tips. Again, there's nothing wrong with rules and statistics, even in church. But when those thoughts begin to take over the purpose of church, when they begin to usurp the role of worship in one's life...apathy is probably one of the milder symptoms that shows up.

I also just finished reading a book about praying the daily office. If you're unfamiliar with that term, it refers to setting aside a certain amount of time each day for prayer and scripture reading and reciting. Commonly, it might be done in the morning, at lunch time, and in the evening. I'd read the book because I'd like to strengthen my prayer life. Guess what? All that delving into rules and regulations and organization around prayer pushed me to apathy about prayer. Again, there's nothing wrong with rules and organization, and it was clear that such an approach toward prayer was working for the author and many others. But it wasn't working for me.

I think what I've learned here is mostly something I already knew. I'm an organic rather than an organized person. I write best when I'm writing what I feel at the moment. Even if it's just a humorous blog about goblin conversations. I worship best when I'm worshiping in the moment--when I'm not worried about the structure or the rules or how many people are joining in. I pray best when I pray in the moment, when I come to God with whatever's on my heart, whatever's bothering me, whatever's real for me right that second.

Jonathan said he wanted to start a new trend on the Internet called "unblogging." He said:

"It's not going to be anything big, grand, or visionary. It's going to be about not doing things - not trying too hard, not trying to fit in, not conforming, not doing what people say."

I've just "met" Jonathan (in the blogger sense of the word "met), so I hope he doesn't mind me stealing his words. But I'm going to start a new trend in my life. It's not going to be about trying to do anything big or visionary. As soon as I start trying anything like that, I start feeling apathetic. 

Instead, I'm just going to work really hard on the little things. On writing a blog post that makes me happy. On telling the stories that are trying to climb out of my fingers. On not burning the pork chops so we can have a yummy dinner instead of beans and hotdogs. On communicating with God rather than scheduling route prayers. On fellowship instead of rules. 

And this is what I believe: I do the little things, and God will handle the big things. He doesn't fall prey to apathy. He can handle being visionary; he'll let me know if he has a vision he wants to share with me. In the meantime, it's usually the little things that make us happy. It's the little things that ward off apathy. It's the little things that often matter in the big picture, anyway.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

I Don't Know About Princesses...and Other Girly Things

I'm working on a ghostwriting project that involves a small princess, and although I've read innumerable fantasy books--many that involved princesses--I realized that I don't have much in the way of little-girl-princess knowledge. That's not surprising, since I don't have much in the way of girl knowledge in general.

When I flip through women's magazines, most of the articles make little sense to me. A huge majority of the advertisements are simply color on paper--I have no interest in the products. And I wonder, do women really like these things? I know some women who seem to, and a few women who don't at all.

Here are some "girly" things I have little to no interest in.

I've gone through spurts of attempting to care about makeup, but they only last a month or so. Then all that expensive stuff dries up and crumbles away in a drawer. The only makeup I wear on occasion is a bit of blush and eyeshadow when I'd like to appear less walking-dead than normal. I also wear lip gloss a lot, but that's more to avoid the discomfort of dry lips.

Here's what I don't like about makeup: It takes too much time to put on. I like to limit my dress time to ten minutes or so. I don't have time to get artistic with my face. Also, I have naturally oily skin, so if I don't take measures to remove the makeup later, I break out something fierce. It all adds up to a lot of expense and time I'd rather spend on things like books.

Blow Dryers
I only own a blow dryer because my husband had one when we met. He doesn't use it either. In fact, the only action the blow dryer's seen in the past five years was that time I almost caught the house on fire trying to dry out the carpet after the paint-fall debacle

I've never actually figured out how to use a blow dryer to effectively dry my hair. Probably because after thirty seconds, I decide it's taking too long and I just brush out the wet mass and let it air dry.

I've never been anywhere to get a massage, but I know it involves removing articles of clothing and people touching you. So, no thanks. I am not a tactile person. I'm not a huge hugger, although I've adapted well to a small, Southern-church environment. I'm okay with my husband cuddling on me, but sometimes I'm not. The thing I hated most about being pregnant was that everyone who was slightly close to me felt like they could touch my belly.

Massages are supposed to work out your tension and leave you feeling less stressed, right? That's why I'll take a pass. Just talking to some stranger about my tension would make me stressed; having them touch me would put knots in all my muscles.

This is like a massage with added art for your hands and feet. No thanks. Although, one girly thing I do like is painted toe nails. I can do that myself without a stranger groping my toes. And for a lot less money, too. 

photo courtesy of ppacificvancouver
I say "Just say no to spas."  Okay, I've never actually been near a spa, but from what people tell me, spa days are like massages on steroids. In fact, spa days often involve massages and lots of other things that would make me uncomfortable.

I can have my own spa day at home with a bottle of bubble bath and a good book. I understand there's a lot more than a hot bath that goes on in a spa, but I'll pass all the same.

What about you? Are there some girly (or guy) things everyone else seems to love, but that you just don't get?

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Thoughtful Tuesday: Dangerous Tribe Talk

I've been noticing a trend with writers and bloggers online. Lots of people are talking about finding their tribe. In an interview over at Copyblogger, author Jeff Goins says, "I write nonfiction books and share what I learn with my tribe." He's referring to a core group of stalwart fans as his tribe.

Lissa Rankin shares another definition of tribe. She refers to that group of people where you are totally comfortable--where everything clicks and you are understood. Lissa writes, "I tried to find my tribe, but no matter what I tried, I always felt like the odd duck swimming with swans, who all seemed to enjoy a sense of belonging I never quite felt." She also gives her tips for finding your tribe.

As a writer, I think there's a cross between these two definitions. There are those fans who just get you--your "people," as Jenny Lawson would say. Professionals in the book marketing sphere probably call this your "target audience." Which is a lot less personal. And also, sounds much safer.

Because let's face it: based on my research, finding your tribe is fraught with danger.

What if you finally locate your tribe, and the village has been destroyed by famine, pestilence or war. What if you're too late? I'm often late with trends and fads--what if the same thing happens here? In the writing world, that would be like working for a year on a novel, then having an agent or an editor say "that genre is burned out/so last year/no longer selling." That would be heartbreaking.

What if you find your tribe and they hate each other? Who wants to be responsible for causing a civil war? I'm not talking Team Jacob verses Team Edward here. Be honest; that was less a civil war and more a genius marketing ploy. But what if you want to be able to work in two genres, discuss multiple ideas, or grow over time? Are you limited by your tribe, or can you have more than one?

Finally, what if your tribe steals your heart? You know, like in Indiana Jones. Or, what if they all turn out to be cannibals? Does anyone else remember that movie where the natives tried to make soup out of Richard Chamberlain and his lady friend? These are the risks you face when you go hunting for a tribe.

Sometimes, I feel like it's better to stay at home and hide behind the notebook. But then I realize that'll only fill so many pages, so I put on the proverbial safari hat and venture forth. Who wants to come along with me? Let's create a tribe. Only admission requirements: Swear not to eat people or steal body parts.

Tweetable: It's dangerous to go alone--take a tribe via @sestasik [Tweet this!]

Monday, May 6, 2013

Reasons to Take a Bath

Some chart humor I created for you. Because who doesn't like humorous and true graphs?

In the meantime, if you are looking for actual words in a post, you can check out my post for the Greater Treasures book tour. Ask author Karina Fabian a question in the comments and be entered to win an ecopy of her dragon-detective story!