The Mag Rag

Every couple weeks I see a newscast or blog shouting about the end of the printed newspaper.  They claim that it is only a matter of time before they all fold completely, because no one will pay for what they can get for free online.  But you never hear such commotion about magazines, and I believe that is because they’re not going anywhere.  We love them too much.

For instance, my current subscription is for Real Simple magazine (I only allow myself one subscription at a time, because I don’t have time to read more).  I love it.  I am obsessed with it.  Despite being in the middle of reading an excellent book, I will virtually pace at my mailbox for my Real Simple.  I will drop my book on its binding the moment it arrives and likely not revisit it until my magazine is dog-eared and tea-stained.

But this doesn’t make sense.  Do you know what I do with those pages of information that hundreds of people have compiled for me?  Nothing.

I apply about one percent of what I read, yet I feel compelled to keep subscribing anyway.  A recent issue suggested I switch from perfume to fragrant water; I haven’t.  Another showed me how to use household foods and baking ingredients to all-naturally clean my home; I still use the regular stuff.  I briefly considered switching to their incoming mail organization system, but decided our mail was fine.

So why do I read it?  It’s organization porn.

I seriously feel like I’m going to have a happiness stroke when I see how they completely made over someone’s closet.  Or how they ingeniously suggest using a colander to hold ice when you’re mixing cocktails so the water escapes, leaving drinks undiluted.

As I read, I picture myself transforming our home with these techniques.  I will banish clutter from our junk drawer by inserting cubic boxes for each item!  I will create an efficient mudroom with cubbies for all of my imaginary children to store their backpacks and shoes!

And it’s not just Real Simple.  Why do I sometimes read People magazine?  Do I personally know any of the people to which they refer?  Of course not.  But I could tell you the names of all of the Jolie-Pitt children, as well as their birthplaces.  I could joke about the “colon cleanse” Gwyneth Paltrow was quoted talking about.

In a strange way, celebrity gossip is like reading about fabulous cleaning products – fun to read, but totally irrelevant.

I used to subscribe to InStyle magazine.  It showed me how to be of-the-moment, superbly fashionable and utterly urban.  Yet I never bought the clothes and couldn’t afford to if I wanted to.  And it took me years to realize that it made me feel like an ugly, poverty-stricken hick.

It’s not just me, either.  I have a friend who subscribes to Cooking Light and absolutely loves it – yet has never cooked one recipe from it.  I have a husband who reads The Economist, yet rarely has the chance to discuss the in-depth articles with anyone.  My mother reads movie reviews in People magazine every week but won’t see a movie in the theater, she always waits for it to come out on DVD six months later.

All of this is really ironic when you consider that I have wanted to be a magazine editor for as long as I can remember.  The concept of magazines has always drawn me because it would seem that people read their magazines because they like them, not because they have to be informed like with a newspaper.

As I wrote for several newspapers in college, I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone was reading my work.  Why slave over each word and every fact if no one will read past your first three sentences?  But with magazines, you have a chance.  Readers have already selected your publication because they love your topic, so it just might matter to them if you choose to write about “Bing vs. Google” rather than “The Benefits of Bing.”

Magazines are an escape into information for your life, whether you apply it or not.  They entertain as they inform, which is exactly what draws a reader to them.  Also, they’re low on the commitment scale.  Have just ten minutes?  Read one article and you won’t feel like you were left hanging.

Who knows?  Maybe one day I’ll be the writer/editor telling Real Simple readers how they can avoid the pitfalls of not finding the right manicurist. And maybe that person will dream of following my advice, and then a week later head to the bathroom to do her own nails.  Even so, I bet I’ll have hooked a reader for life.

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Filed under One WORD (Current Events)

Etiquette for Awkward Situations — Vol 1

In the spirit of summertime social situations (how’s that for alliteration?), let’s address those awkward encounters that we find all too frequently — and what we can do about them.

And by “we” I mean that these are true stories of my own, or friends who shall remain nameless.

At the Bar

Awkward Situation: You make last minute plans with a friend to go to happy hour, despite being dressed in a red Mickey Mouse t-shirt and neglecting to shower that day.  Naturally, this is the one happy hour in which you run into your best friend from high school that you haven’t seen since graduation, and she looks immaculate.

Solution: Greet her warmly and emphasize being “so busy” at work, as an implied excuse for your attire.  Ask her endless questions about herself (on the off-chance that she’s self-involved), and she will be so consumed with relating her life that she will forget about yours (and Mickey’s).


Over Email

Awkward Situation: You receive an email from an acquaintance explaining that you are indeed invited to a mutual friend’s bridal shower this weekend, despite failing to receive a timely invitation due to a “miscommunication.”  But won’t you please still come?

Solution: Without a trace of commitment, blithely reply that she needn’t apologize since you have plans that day anyway, but should the opportunity arise you may make an appearance.  Still go if you can, because after all, your engaged friend shouldn’t suffer because of this acquaintance’s forgetfulness.

 

In the Office

Awkward situation: You and only one other person are walking down the hallway toward each other.  He kindly says hello and initiates a conversation as he walks toward you.  As you smile broadly in response and open your mouth to reply, you find there are not just two of you in the hallway.  This person is speaking to the nice man behind you.

Solution: Pretend that smile was just the daily one you give to everyone.  Also, always carry a mug so your hands are occupied, and you can use it as a decoy to look purposeful – hmm, is my cup empty?  Let me spend three seconds looking inside.

At an Event

Awkward Situation: You are at a social event, and here comes that woman who clearly knows exactly who you are and is thrilled to greet you – but if your life depended on it you could not recall her name.

Solution: Grab your date/husband/person-standing-nearest-you and cheerfully ask Mystery Woman if she has met the person whose name you actually know.  That will automatically prompt her to introduce herself, providing infinite relief to you as you say in your head, “YES!  I knew it was REBECCA.”  Then try to use her name at the beginning/end of a sentence at least twice before you move on to get a much-needed drink.

 

On the Phone

Awkward Situation: A friend innocently asks “What are you doing on Saturday?”  They could be inviting you to the best party of the year, or asking you to help them move apartments for six hours.  You simply can’t tell by this open-ended question.

Solution: Since this person thinks it’s OK to back you into a social corner, you are free to be direct.  Briefly say, “I’ll have to check – what did you have in mind?”  Otherwise, if you should say, “Nothing, I’m free,” your friend could say, “Perfect!  I need someone to help me sort through my Tupperware,” and you’re trapped.

This situation is awkward enough that it merits an extra tip: when inviting people to do something, just straight-out ask them.  For instance, “Hey, I’m going rock-climbing this weekend, would you like to join me?” is so much more inviting than, “You free this weekend?” which seems to imply that your invitee has no life.

To have your most pressing etiquette questions addressed, please write to wordsbecomeone@gmail.com.   Also, if you think it’s funny to write to me as “Dear Abby,” you already have an etiquette issue we need to address.

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Filed under Good WORD (Etiquette)

Ain’t No Mountain High Enough

Trust is an interesting word, because as my mom says, “It doesn’t exist until it’s tested.”

Consider mine in full existence.

Mike climbed Mt. Baker last weekend, and I didn’t handle it well — at first.  This was his first climb of this intensity, and it’s a bit of a mystery to both of us.  What do we know of mountains?  More specifically, what do I know of what they do to men?

I know that they call to men, beckoning them for reasons that escape me.  I look at mountains and think, “How beautiful!”  Men look at mountains and think “I must conquer you.”

Mike’s sister Wendy is married to a man who has answered that mountainous whisper numerous times.  Naturally, I went to her with my nerves bared.

“Worry is futile and unproductive,” she advised.  “It’s definitely something I’ve come to understand over time though…so don’t feel like you have to instantly be at peace and calm about your hubby climbing a mountain.  It’s a process.”

It’s a process.  So it’s fine that I cried after breakfast on Friday morning, when I knew I wouldn’t see him until his return on Sunday night.  And it’s fine that I cried after lunch on Friday afternoon, when we said goodbye again, since I needed more than one goodbye.  (Believe me; I know how pathetic I sound right now).

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I was afraid.  Not of Mike’s inability, but of the mountain’s strength.  Climbing produces an onslaught of foreign words that sound like causes of death:  crevasse, glacier, peak, ice field, snow slide.

Add to this that we have only spent one night apart so far in our marriage (I know, you’re gagging).  Add to this that we had just returned from a six day trip in which we had been together 24/7.  The result is that the thought of his absence made me feel like a limb was missing.

I guess that’s what I felt all weekend: phantom limb.

So I called my mom on Friday and told her my fears.  She listened.  Then she asked if I was going up the mountain with him.

“No, I’m not going,” I said.

“Correct.  You cannot protect him.  But Jesus is walking alongside him all the way up to the peak  and right back down.  So tell Him to protect our boy and then let it go,” she said, using my three least favorite words in the English language.

Let it go.

Release.

Essentially, stop being myself, because I am a control freak.

So, begrudgingly, I did.  I told Jesus this was truly His worry, not mine, and I stopped thinking about it.

OK I didn’t stop thinking about it.  I just stopped worrying about it.  I still thought of him every day, but it was thoughts of missing him, not imagining him falling into an abyss.  This was progress.

I also made plans.  The last thing I needed was to be home alone with my thoughts, so I called Rachel, Mike’s other sister, whose husband Phil was climbing with Mike.  Then we called her mom, because her son and son-in-law are our husbands.  So we all felt the same and decided to be together to feel the same.

We went to Anacortes where Mike’s parents have a house, to distract ourselves, even enjoy ourselves, and relax.  This was the best possible decision we could have made.

Rachel has been through this worry-release almost as many times as Wendy, so she was a rock for me in my first experience.  Just looking at her peaceful expression made me think of the boys less and less often.  Instead, I was fully present with Rachel and Colleen, and could enjoy a gorgeous sunset dinner overlooking the San Juan Islands.

I suppose peaceful dinners are one of the fringe benefits of “letting it go.”  Who knew?

As I write this, on Sunday afternoon, the boys are not home yet.  According to the “SPOT” device they use to let us know their status, they are still OK.  Every couple of hours they push a button on this device and it emails us their location.  I can’t overstate my devotion to this product.

The boys have a motto when it comes to their climbs:  “The summit is optional.  Coming home is not.”   These are good men.

As for me being a good woman?  I’m ashamed of how much effort it takes for me to trust.  I want to be the woman who says, “Go!  Adventure!  Live!”  When what I whine now is, “Stay home!  Be my security!  Never leave my side!”

But that’s not living.  That’s not what we were made for.  And Mike isn’t my security anyway; God is.

So when Mike gets home, as I trust he will, and I am relieved and happy and filled with hope that my trust was on solid ground — then I must hold onto this trust, learn it, keep it.  Because I know exactly what he’s going to say:

“I can’t wait to climb Mt. Rainier!”

Mike, Greg and Phil make their way back down the mountain.

  Mike, Greg and Phil make their way up the mountain.

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Filed under The WORD (Faith)