Our Daily Walk

Every diet, every gym, every workout infomercial comes with a “CYA” warning, alerting consumers to consult with a doctor before starting a new diet or exercise routine. If you actually consult with a doctor they will encourage a slow start to a new program, often promoting the adoption of a daily walk. When I began to work with doctors and coaches on finding a maintainable way to get to, and stay at, a healthy weight they quickly started dolling out praises on the power of a good walk. Since exercise is synonymous in my head with sweat and pain, walking is not an activity I approach with the same fervor of an aerobics class. I considered tackling this issue as a byproduct of my years as an exercise bulimic, a condition that causes people to over-exercise in an effort to burn every calorie they consume. However, upon analysis it became apparent that my attitude that walking is not really exercise was not a problem but actually quite healthy. By viewing walking as just an activity and not exercise, I was less likely to abuse it. Still, there are so many people who share my “walk is not exercise” mindset and forego this healthy activity in lieu of more strenuous workouts, but this attitude is easily fixed with the addition of a furry friend.

Each morning starts with the same routine, performed with such uniform precision that even a German engineer would be proud. After rolling from bed and visiting the bathroom, I reach for a pair of jeans and just the sound of the fabric hitting my toes wakes Luna and Solei, my two dogs, from their deep slumber. All it takes is the quiet noises of getting dressed to alert them of the start of a new day. Each morning this same pattern is repeated, shortly followed by the phrase “wanna go for a walk?” The dogs immediately jump and cry and run and bark in eager anticipation of a walk around the neighborhood. The only thing that gets the dogs more excited then going for a w-a-l-k is going "buh bye car." I try to think if there are any phrases that would evoke the same level of excitement as these two do for my pups and the only thing that comes close is “wanna go for Dairy Queen?” Sad to say even that doesn’t have me running, crying or barking nearly as much as the dogs.

The benefits of our daily walk go well beyond exercise. We have a little saying in our house, “A tired puppy is a good puppy,” and this mantra is supported by America’s favorite Dog Person, Cesar Milan (aka the Dog Whisperer). The daily walk started not for my own exercise needs, but when Luna was a puppy and the only way to knock the “Schnoodle 500” zoomie energy out of her was with a good, long walk. That was nearly 4 years ago and she, and her little sister, still requires a fair amount of exercise to ensure our furniture is not destroyed out of “when are Mom and Dad coming home from work?” boredom. For those having issues with a destructive dog, my two are living proof that a tired dog won’t chew your shoes.

Before getting a dog the only neighbors I knew were those immediately around us. Exploring your neighborhood on foot allows opportunities for striking up conversation, actually getting to know the people you share a zip code with. Having a dog amplifies the experience as they make acquaintance with the rear ends of other neighborhood dogs. This method of meeting people does come with a funny issue; no one actually knows me by my real name and instead refers to be as Luna and Solei’s Mom. That’s okay, because I am just as guilty of calling people Monte, Lady, Freya, Sam and Buddy’s parents. Because of the walk, and the dogs, people are friendly, wave and say hi, the kind of interaction with neighbors that many people lack these days.

Walking through my neighborhood also reminds me that as much as I hate Minnesota (my biggest search term hit on the site, I should include it in every post), I love my quaint area that somehow sits only miles from downtown. In a couple of mile loop we pass ponds, a golf course, and a creek. We share our path with deer that stop and stare at us on our walk, like we are some strange animal, unnatural in their habitat. In the fall the ground crunches from the leaves of hundreds of oak and elm trees. The lushness spring blooms makes it nearly impossible to see what awaits around the next corner. The scenery never gets old and I am in constant awe at the neighborhood that is more like a nature preserve.

People often ask me why I walk the dogs every morning when I have a large, fenced in back yard. My retort is the walk is just as much for me as it is for them. Just as the daily walk is not exercise in my head, it is also not a chore. Beginning each day with a walk is calming, therapeutic, and relaxing. Unless the rain is of biblical proportions or temperature bone crushing, the show goes on. I cannot make a job or life change that would prohibit this daily ritual; walking my neighborhood with two leashes in hand has become just as much a part of the day as brushing my teeth and enjoying a cup of coffee. My coworkers seem so frazzled every morning, starting their days with kiddie carpool mix-ups, daycare horror stories, long commutes, fights over breakfast, or early conference calls. Missing the walk throws me completely off my rails and has repercussions on my work and personal performance; it is a non-negotiable part of my day. I’m a better employee, a better neighbor, a better pet-parent, overall a better person because of this time to myself; getting a little exercise on top of all that is just icing on the cake.

Leaving Long Island

My experiences growing up on Long Island and the resulting outcome are not unique to me or the southeastern appendage of New York State; from major cities to small rural towns there will always be people who want to stay in their hometown and people who run like hell. Falling into the latter category, I could not get out Carle Place or off of Long Island fast enough. Unlike many people with long lists of reasons to count down the days until their High School graduation, I actually had trouble articulating the motivation behind the desire to flee. Life was pretty good; tight group of friends, close relationship with family, good grades, skip to the beach, short train ride to Manhattan, and somewhat decent levels of popularity. Leaving everyone to go away to college was hard; deciding never to move back was even harder. After nearly 15 years since my departure from the Empire State I still miss my friends and family yet never regret leaving Long Island.

Being the big fish in a little pond does have some advantages; comfort, security, and admiration to name just a few. The thing with fish is they only grow as big as the tank they are in; humans are no different. For some people High School is the best it will get, the glory days, and it is all down hill from there. We all know people whose best moments in life involved scoring the winning points in the closing seconds of a game, receiving a standing ovation in the high school musical or being published in the school newspaper. Twenty years after the fact they still relive those glory days, unable to let go of the past and make something bigger out of their future. While this fate does not happen to everyone, I feared that if I didn’t get away it would happen to me; my personal growth dependent on getting out of my small, comfortable pond. No matter where I grew up I would have wanted to leave, explore new environments and discover things beyond the familiar. Familiarity breeds contempt.

My fear of life peaking in High School was so intense that it was a focus of many conversations with my guidance counselor whose honestly was something I still appreciate. His words of wisdom, that life does go downhill for many people after high school and it was my choice whether it would happen to me or not, still resonate in my head in times of uncertainty and doubt. Progressing through more school, through my career, and through life I am often reminded of this lesson and remember it is my choice whether my best days are behind me or still yet to come.

I am envious of those who thrive in the comfort of a stable, familiar environment. Some people need roots, some need wings. I needed to get out of the pond, try a different pond, jump into a lake, swim upstream, deep dive in an ocean, or stomp in a puddle to experience the world, otherwise I would drown. Even moving to a smaller pond forces adaptation to new surroundings, evolution of new personality traits and defense mechanisms to survive and thrive a new situation. Changing and growing, pushing myself beyond my comfort zone, brings challenges to my career and relationships. Just when I get comfortable I start asking “what’s next;” struggling to strike a balance between stability and freedom, wanderlust always pushing me to look beyond the horizon, to avoid the suffocation of growing into my surroundings.

Ironically when I return to my hometown today I am no longer the big fish who everyone knows, but more like a fish out of water, unable to fit into my surroundings. Carle Place, Long Island and New York have all changed some in 15 years. Oscar Wilde’s famous quote, “Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life,” is all too apparent; people look and act more like the women of Real Housewives of New York City, the boys from Growing Up Gotti, or the Dina Lohan than the Seavers in Growing Pains. What really makes me a stranger in a strange land in has little to do with the place I called home for over 13 years and everything to do with changes in me, the changes from seeing new places, meeting people from all over the world, and discovering new facets to my own personality. The old saying “you can’t go home again” used to confuse me but with each visit to place of my childhood memories the meaning became all too clear; home has nothing to do with physical location but everything to do with state of mind.

Sunday Bumday

A pot of coffee brews in the kitchen, the sweet smell of onions and peppers waft through the air as breakfast potatoes sizzle to a golden brown. Allison Young of NPR’s “Classical Music” presents a condensed biography on the composer Handel and before long the room is filled with a relaxing concerto. Lazy Sunday mornings are one of my simplest but greatest pleasures in life. As a naturally early riser, Sunday mornings provide a rare time of peace and serenity in our over-populated and stressful world; this time as one of my most treasured assets.

At 6:30 in the morning the outside the world is calm and still. A few finches and a cardinal the only sign of life, and most of my neighbors are still sound asleep; even the church goers still hours away from their ritual services. Luna and Solei, my energetic Schnoodles, seem to enjoy our quiet morning together as they nap nearby, rising only to look out the window when the sound of a woodland creature or the wind interrupts their slumber. Most mornings the dogs are hyper and anxious, ready to explore the outside world. On Sundays their animal instincts somehow know if they allow me to write and enjoy a cup of coffee in silence their morning walk through the neighborhood will be especially long.

As a type-A personality normally focused on an ever growing to-do list, the sheer pleasure I get from quiet Sundays might be surprise those who view me as being wound up tighter than a top. In the past I too would view such a weekly ritual as lazy; a waste of precious time. I am not a lazy person, I am a person who just enjoys, craves and requires some quiet moments. Somehow through the years I have come to embrace the importance of quiet me-time; perhaps a sign that with age does come a shred of wisdom. Time really is our most precious commodity and we are each granted the same 1440 minutes every day; how we use those 1440 minutes are what makes us each different.

Those with young children might find the concept of lazy Sunday mornings foreign. My enjoyment of me time is one of the major reasons I have chosen a childfree life. Just the thought of beautiful silence being disrupted by the need of other human can trigger feelings of anxiety. My whole day ahead of me is full of endless possibilities of my choosing. With the decision to have children comes the ultimate sacrifice of time, and it perplexes me how many choose to devote all their time to others, no longer able to enjoy time for relaxation or reflection on their thoughts and feelings.

Many people use Sunday morning minutes on less noble things then families. Some utilize the time to prepare for the upcoming work week, checking emails and voicemails, even sending emails to key people as if proving their level of commitment through a non-work day communication. They don’t have to give those minutes to their jobs but they still do; either not understanding or caring how precious that time is for themselves or the people they love. How we spend our time is forever etched in history and we cannot go back and take back all the minutes we gave to someone else.

“You don’t have kids so what do you do when you are not working?” There is a perception that the time of the childfree can be endlessly devoted to career, like tending to children is the only valid reason not to be working. There are plenty of noble callings and hobbies beyond work and children that people do in their spare time; volunteer work, music, art, and gardening just to name a few. The real challenge is accepting that it is okay if time is just spent being and living without an end goal or purpose and overcome any guilt associated with doing nothing. Somewhere along the line lazy became a new deadly sin and it recently hit me that this shift is reflected in the ultimate gauge of human behavior; commercials. Commercials no longer show people sitting on porches, under a tree, or in their yard doing nothing. Even Country Time Lemonade changed their advertising strategy, the gentle rock of a porch swing replaced by exercise in the lake. If the lazy lemonade of summer cannot relax how can the rest of us?

Because we live in a society that rewards people for handing their lives over to their careers or children, the love of quiet me-time has some negative consequences. Colleagues slowly move ahead a rung or two on the corporate ladder because they are willing to sacrifice their time and give it to “the man.” They too are awake now in the wee hours of Sunday, sending emails, constructing PowerPoint documents, and preparing for early Monday meetings. They, and unfortunately many executives, see this as the ultimate dedication to the company and their careers, and in years past I would agree with those thoughts. Each Monday morning I read a slew of emails sent the previous day, wondering what was so important that it could not wait 24 hours. Spending Sunday working from home is not dedicated, it is sad and pathetic; sad people feel like they have to spend all their time working and pathetic that they have nothing more important to do then work. Corner office be damned, there are some things in life not worth sacrificing for so called success.

Ironically, those of us who have lives outside of work and learn to find a balance are more efficient and effective then those whose time scale tips completely towards their careers. Quiet time allows us to relax and recharge, to expand and broaden our minds, to spend time making ourselves happier and healthier which makes us better people inside and outside the office. Personal time actually extends our longevity. All work and no play might be a good short-term solution to move up the corporate ladder, but when a stress induced heart attack cuts a life short that actually nets out to less time given to work. We might all get the same 1440 minutes in every day, but we’re not all given the same lifetime allotment of those minutes. Life is a marathon, not a sprint, and we each need to find something to keep us in the race. The smell the Sunday coffee, classical music, a good book, warm puppies, and hours spent with myself are now necessities making it to and living well past retirement. The only thing better than a lazy Sunday morning is a lazy, sunny, warm Sunday morning and today there is a hammock with my name on it.

Kama Spin Cycle

A recent study concluded that couples who have their better half take on the brunt of the household duties have less frequent sex then those couples who share household chores. This news circulated around my office about 8 times just before an email from my dear husband arrived informing me that he would be home cleaning the house for my post-work arrival. On the surface this looks like another of those “No shit, really? Someone gave you money to research this?” kind of studies addressing the obvious; in this case if you take away some of the factors, like housework, that cause people to be too tired or busy to engage in sexual activity that more sex happens. No ground was really broken with this study and much to the chagrin of men nationwide doing a load of laundry is not an automatic ticket to more sex.

The report opens up with the exciting news that men's contribution to housework doubled over the past four decades. Wow, great! Except 40 years ago only brings us to the late 60’s when the women’s movement just started gaining some steam. The use of “doubled” is accurate but misleading; men contribute to 30 percent of work in the house, up from an abysmal 15 percent. Can 30 percent really be considered a sign of increased household equality? The study did conclude that couples where both work outside are more apt to split household duties making the 30 percent contribution by men seem very low; one would assume with the rise of women, who are now contributing to family finances through full-time work, there would be a greater balance in sharing household duties.

It is easy to question the accuracy and statistical viability of this study when “household work” can fall within very loose interpretations. What is the definition of household duties used by responders in this study? To the defense of many men women often forget to include some of the contributions that are considered “men’s work” in the realm of the household. It is a massive generalization but men are often the ones carrying the burden of the outdoor work; lawn, shrubbery, asphalt, trash removal, grilling. On the flip side are other tasks that both men and women forget to include when assessing their list of household chores. These are referred to by sociologists such as Pamela Smock of UMICH as “invisible housework;” scheduling children’s doctors appointment (er, vet appointments), purchasing holiday gifts, arranging family gatherings, remembering birthday cards. These activities certainly take time and are contributions to the family unit but were doubtfully remembered by respondents as they estimated how much work they did thus leading to inaccuracies in the assessment.

Disparity between the contribution of men and women in the household can also be attributed to a choice made by many couples for one member of the family to take on greater responsibilities in the home versus working outside the home. Did the study take into account that women stay home more often than men and purposely take on a greater percentage of the household work through roles and responsibilities well established in the relationship? An imbalance of who cooks and cleans does not automatically denote gender inequality in a relationship. Housework is only one component of marital equality and all the labor it takes to keep a house running, inside and outside of the home, should be included in the workload equation. Where inequality does exist is in the disparity of which half of the couple gets saddled with running the home versus who finances the household operation; men still make up less then five percent of the stay-at-home parents.

The widespread media attention of this study is pretty sad. We are well cemented in the twenty-first century and we continue to discuss, debate, and deliberate the role of men and women in the house. Reading through comments posted by readers of various news sites were nothing short of heartbreaking. Far too many people saw the study as nothing but “feminist propaganda” aimed at “womanizing men” and giving women excuses to forego their “wifely duties.” There were actually comments focused on the virtues of marrying a less educated woman who would be more than happy to attend to their needs; apparently the fall of marriage and the world started the moment “fathers allowed their daughters to go to college and get jobs.”

After cleaning the vomit from my keyboard triggered by hundreds of comments from Neanderthals espousing their views of “women’s work” I could not help but wonder what kind of women these men were in contact with. Somewhere along the line these men were given permission, either overtly or tacitly, to believe that their role as a man was superior to women. These men learned not only that household duties were women’s work but also that these duties were not as important as their role of household “provider.” This view of women is perpetuated by women themselves who allow their role to be belittled, who see themselves as less worthy since they do not bring in a paycheck, who brush off help from spouses in their attempt to control the house, who see a father’s role as babysitter and not hands on parent, and who praise men for helping around the house as if it is above and beyond the call of duty.

Marriage is a partnership and a balance of tasks is a crucial element to successful relationships but shouldn’t have a tick sheet of who is contributing more or less to the union. Contributions ebb and flow and over the course of time the most successful marriages find a balance that allow both parties to thrive. Anyone who has played sports knows that successful teamwork includes each player doing a part in which they personally excel, understanding their roles and responsibilities, and respecting everyone on the team as equal contributors; a successful marriage is no different. Inequality on a team might win a game or two, but it's the team working together that wins the Super Bowl. Chances are if day after day, month after month finds one person ready to play in the sack and the other just wanting to collapse in it then there are greater marital imbalances then just who does the laundry, although gentlemen it might be worth a try to see what a little extra housework could get you.

Roll out the Crate and Barrel

Nearly seven years ago my family and friends began showering me and the husband with lavish gifts in celebration of our upcoming nuptials. Any bride and groom can attest that one of the most fun parts of wedding preparations is creating the wedding registry. It is like being a kid again as you walk around the store creating a list that even Santa would shutter at. I was reluctant to share my bridal registry lessons for fear of offending those who were so generous in showing their love for us. The years taught us some very valuable lessons on shopping for the home and if we knew then what we know now we would have dropped a better part of our day and tax return on pots and pans. This is not meant to offend, but enlighten anyone who is registering or just making purchases for their home. We thought we choose wisely but made mistakes because we did not ask ourselves the following questions; will we use it, can we replace it, will we like it in 10 years, and will it last.

Lesson 1: Will we use it?
After purchasing our first home we had a “been there, done that” attitude around living on our own and what it took to make a home. Like many couples today we had a cornucopia of his and hers items that needed to be shuffled through and discarded to make way for the “ours” items. These discussions (arguments perhaps) present a great opportunity to understand each other’s personal style and how different we do simple things; just choosing which drawer should contain the flatware led to some discoveries on the interesting baggage we each brought from our own families. Compromise became a key component in registering to settle the conflicting viewpoints on everything from glasses to gadgets.

One thing we did not need to compromise on is our love of the kitchen and how it would be a focus of our registering and purchasing which came as both a blessing and a curse. We danced around Crate and Barrel registering for everything from oven mitts (useful and used), to corn on the cob dishes (useful but rarely used), to a fragile olive dish (useless). The wedding industry is built around getting couples to buy the impractical and we were victims of the machine. The useful versus useless debate is very subjective and as unique as each couple. One couple’s cappuccino maker (ours only comes out on Easter and Thanksgiving) may be another’s fondue pot (we have blood running through our chesse system). Wedding or no wedding, we are each guilty of buying things we really don’t need and experiencing purchaser’s remorse. Two of the more useful gifts we received were an electric toothbrush from my friend Jules which we are guaranteed to use at least twice a day and a world clock from my bridesmaid Jooli marking time-zones so we always know what time it is where all our friends are living.

Lesson 2: Can we replace it?
It is important to research a product’s longevity to ensure replacement parts are readily available and if not back up supplies are purchased and stored. Many people experience the half-finished china collection after a patter is discontinued. We were incredibly cognizant of this with choosing our china (useless for some, often used for us). I was drawn to the very classic Lenox Solitaire, a timeless pattern introduced in 1965. This pattern was a bit too boring for my flamboyant husband (a trait not discovered or revealed prior to the engagement) and we chose Lenox’s Landmark Platinum, introduced in 1998 after my sister informed me that it was among Macy*s top sellers (many thanks to Kristen working in the retail industry and Mom for making sure my set was complete!). Unfortunately the matching Lenox Landmark Crystal Glasses were not as favorably received by the public and the patter was retired in 2004 leaving me and the other owners bidding against each other on ebay in an effort to accumulate enough back up glasses to survive a lifetime. Our flatware is also off the market which is very unfortunate as we recently discovered we were missing a fork.

Dishes are often the culprit of the can we replace it dilemma and our everyday dishes gave us that issue. Officially dubbed “seasonal-ware” by Crate and Barrel and warned the pattern would be available for only a short time we decided to fill our cupboards with the blue and green mosaic dishes after I convinced my husband that I was not the kind of passionate Italian who would throw dishes around in a fight. However, I am one of those passionate Italians who frequently talks with her hands and accidentally smashes dishes so we did over-purchase to ensure years of enjoyment out of the dishes. Unfortunately we probably underestimated the power of my passionate hands tenfold and are hoping that Crate & Barrel re-introduces the patter soon or we will be left with the decision to replace all our dishes or pay their exorbitant retired piece replacement prices.

Lesson 3: Will we like it in ten years?
One of the interesting things about marriage is how some differences soften and couples create their own unique sense of style leading to some major changes to how the nest was filled and decorated early in the relationship. It is difficult to prepare for these changes as they naturally grow from years of marriage. We discovered long after saying “I do” that the color of our small appliances, white, was all wrong. It sounds like a minor change but we were suddenly surrounded by dozens upon dozens contraptions that did not fit into our new sleek black appliance motif. We are still replacing each of the stark white machines one by one and were quite happy we purchased our black Kitchen Aid mixer a couple of years after the wedding (frequently used, don’t know how we lived without it).

Oddly enough one of our bigger regrets with our bridal registry was choosing a comforter for our bed. The style is not the issue, the comforter is beautiful, it is just comforters are just so hard to take care of and do little in actually keeping a person warm when sleeping. The comforter is now in our guestroom and unfortunately is the preferred puking location for each of our dogs and the comforter spends more time at the dry cleaner then covering people. Down comforters are now the bed covering of choice allowing us to change our colors and styles through duvets as well as washing those duvets at home when the dogs throw up a wad of grass in bed.

Luckily we avoided registering for or purchasing any decorative items until well into our marriage, ensuring we developed a style of our own rather then regretting what we thought was art. Our home is filled with photos, maps, globes, local memorabilia and Snoopy art which reflect our personalities perfectly.

Lesson 4: Will it last?
Our first lesson in “will it last” was our foolish decision to register at Target; will it last long enough on the shelves for people to actually buy it. We were reluctant to register at the discount giant but thought their widespread popularity and coast-to-coast locations would lend to easier shopping for all our guests. What we did not realize was Target has a tendency of changing their merchandise several times a year, switching brands and colors with the seasons without informing those with registries that their items are no longer available. That, coupled with an unfriendly return policy requiring a gift receipt for any purchase over $10, left us unhappy and with three cappuccino makers.

My grandfather used to say “you buy cheap, you get cheap” and we were penny wise and pound foolish with a few important items ultimately leading to our trip for new cookware today. We love to cook and in our years together have managed to go through 1 set of inexpensive cookware and another set of middle-of-the-road pots and pans. Today we finally began our Le Creuset collection and the cost of our two old sets easily equaled the cost of the high-end cookware with a lifetime warranty. Although in hind-sight it would have been more cost-effective to buy better cookware I am actually glad we waited; with age and anniversaries came the confidence to be a little crazy with color.
It is hard to avoid strange impulses when given free-reign over a store with a scanner and almost impossible to know how your tastes will change. Sticking to timeless, functional and quality items assures that most things will continue to be enjoyed for years to come.

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Our cards did not contain a Christmas Letter which is not unusual; we have never included a Christmas letter in our cards but we love hearing news from our friends and thought we would share suit. Even with our desire to share our year with these friends it came down to one thing; when we thought about what to write we made a frightening discovery, we were boring. But it is okay being boring, right? Isn't drama highly overrated.

As holiday cards began to pour in it was nice reading letters outlining all 2007 brought to the lives of our loved ones. Whether a letter contains words of great sadness or reports exciting news they all bring comfort through understanding the struggles and triumphs of those we hold so dear. For the most part the letters were quite ordinary but we were still happy to receive them. We also realized our life together was not as boring and mundane as we thought. I guess it is all relative; our boring could be someone else’s extraordinary.

The Van Betta Family Year in Review

The year began with fireworks and fanfare in Sydney, Australia as we began 2007 celebrating the amazing beauty and culture unique to that region. The experience made me thankful for the opportunity to attend the wedding of a good friend and appreciate how technology has made it possible to grow friendships despite great geographic distances. While Australia has long been Chelle’s favorite destination, New Zealand quickly climbed to the top of the list with such a wide array of activities, intense physical beauty and the kindness of every person we met. We fell in love with the vineyards of Marlborough and love to buy wine at our local liquor store and declare “we’ve been there.” For those wondering if the long trip is worth it stop wondering; it is the only place to see snow capped mountains, the Pacific Ocean, pristine lakes, lush farms, desert plains, deep forests and city streets all in a single day.

We were front and center at the social event of the century in February attending the wedding of Chelle’s sister Renee’. The ceremony was beautifully presided over by Wade’s brother Mark while Wade read one of the most touching poems ever recited and Chelle served as the Best Broad. A great time was had by all at both the wedding and the all-night after party. Everyone was jealous that Renee’ and Matt escaped the cold of winter for a honeymoon in St. Thomas and proved that getting married in the winter has its advantages; the wedding is only one day, but warm anniversary vacations are for a lifetime!

Although we both remained with the same companies throughout the year each one of us had some major job changes. Wade’s hard work was finally rewarded with a promotion to Senior Project Manager in May. Chelle took a position with a new team but after several months realized the move was not good for her career or her sanity. Luckily there were plenty of other opportunities available and she is now in Nurseline Operations. Wade’s work took him to Connecticut and Chelle’s travel schedule, although not nearly as crazy as in the days of consulting, had her visiting Princeton, San Antonio, West Virginia and Long Beach.

Our College Ten year reunions snuck up on us this year; where does the time go? Chelle traveled to the Mary Washington campus in Virginia in June and is still in awe of how much the whole city of Fredericksburg has changed. While in Virginia Chelle got to catch up with some good friends and is hoping to schedule another visit in 2008 as Mary Washington celebrates its centennial year. Our reunions also marked a little anniversary for us; we met in the summer of 1997 in Chicago.

Family events dominated our travel schedule in the latter half of the year; NY for a cousin’s graduation, Toronto to celebrate Wade’s brother’s 20th year in the Lutheran ministry, a surprise trip to NY for Chelle’s mother’s birthday and our annual holiday trip which was for Thanksgiving this year. When home for Thanksgiving we drove to Philadelphia to see Chelle’s friends Diane and Victor, caught up with another friend Wes in Princeton and spent time in New Jersey with relatives. Chelle’s sister Kristen visited for Labor Day and we rented a pontoon to christen her in the waters of Lake Minnetonka and attended the Minnesota State Fair to sample a wide variety of foods on a stick. John, a friend of Chelle’s from her days in DC, came from Rhode Island in May to see us and attend a couple of Twins/Red Sox games. That same weekend we participated the Humane Society’s Walk for Animals and rose over $1000 for local shelters. Chelle once again completed the Northshore Inline Marathon in Duluth and survived the most grueling test of her strength and endurance with cold temperatures and heavy winds while meeting their friend’s new daughter; Nola. Chelle’s Mom visited twice and after years of getting the timing wrong (or right!) and finally experienced winter; her March visit saw two blizzards and in December temperatures below zero. Our home is always open to our friends and family but we highly recommend targeting July – September.

Long distance relationships grew closer over the year as each one of us realized facebook was not just for teenagers. It is nice finding long lost friends and keeping up with the everyday lives of those both far and near making it much more bearable having friends and family who span the globe. We both continue to expand our creativity through writing and publish some of our work on our websites; Simpleprop and Explosive Bombchelle.

Wade’s Dad gave us the scare of our lives suffering a broken hip with a fall in our home on Easter weekend. His recovery had him in the Twin Cities for about 3 weeks and he was happy the hospital was a pet friendly facility; Luna and Solei lit the faces of many patients recovering in the orthopedic ward. We considered officially licensing them as therapy dogs, but Luna’s love for Cheerios would make her a menace in any ward. Luna and Solei keep us busy, provide us endless hours of love and entertainment and continue to surprise us with their abnormal level of canine intelligence and incredible athleticism wrapped in such little bodies. Although the year had us very busy at work and home we still ventured out to see friends, attend the theatre and enjoy our Vikings season tickets.

We are looking very forward to the holidays with family and friends and are especially excited for the mystery and excitement that 2008 can offer. Even if it is just as quiet and eventless as 2007 we continue to have the best time together after all these years.

Thanksgiving Blessing

May your stuffing be tasty
May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!
- Author Unknown

Prominent member of the Van Betta crime family

My morning routine is usually pretty standard; wake up, potty, brew coffee, take the dogs for a walk, come back, shower, get dressed, kiss husband, pour coffee in mug, give dogs their kongs and head out the door. Day in and day out this same process occurs like a perfectly choreographed waltz with little to no variation. Occasionally the dance changes slightly; it is too cold for a walk, there is no coffee in the house or if the dogs get rawhide rather then a kong. This morning a “perfect storm” of events drastically mixed up the schedule and led to a disturbing personal discovery; I could quit my job and begin a life of crime.

This week I am a single pet-parent while my husband is away on business. This should not, in any way, effect the morning routine as saying he is not a morning person is a gross understatement of the disdain he has for any hour prior to noon. The morning dog routine is primarily performed by me since I wake up sometime before the crack of dawn. The morning walk is usually around 30 minutes long and I rarely if ever lock the door behind me when leaving the house. This morning, I had a vision of returning to a rapist inside and decided to lock the handle as I exited; I would just key into the garage upon my return. This is when the chaos started.

A very nice walk with my little black and white dogs was ruined when I tried to open the garage to realize that the electricity went out. Trying not to panic, I walked around the house checking every window and door to see if any had accidentally been left unlocked. No such luck. At that point I began searching for “the rock,” the kind that hides in the yard, unnoticed by criminals, and only the owner realizes there is a house key hidden within the contraption. Unfortunately, no key was hidden in the rock. The nearest backup key was either 2 hours away with my in-laws or 1000 miles away with my husband in Connecticut.

Rather then do anything drastic, I decided to take the dogs for another spin around the block and pray for electricity. 30 minutes later my attempt at garage access was once again denied. Assessing the situation, I had a few options; take the day off from work and find a neighbor to take me in, break a window, call a locksmith or break the door. My mind raced with images of breaking down the door Law and Order style, kicking it down with one well placed, magical kick. Luckily, I remembered the pain associated with breaking bones and decided to opt for a better solution. Weighing the pros and cons of my choices, factoring in cost and embarrassment considerations, I decided to try and break the doorknob off, knowing I had only locked the knob and not the deadbolt.

Using my shoe as a tool, I whacked at the doorknob several times until the outside handle broke free from the door. The door would not budge. Traipsing through the yard, I found some sticks to pop open the inside locking mechanism, getting into the house and causing minimal damage to anything more then the doorknob. I felt like MacGyver. The feeling of pride and triumph with this amazing display of self-sufficiency was immediately replaced by the overwhelming realization of just how easy it is to break into a house. While I’m happy that this incident is only going to result in the cost of a new doorknob, the price of discovering how vulnerable we are to the outside world is going to be much more expensive in the long run. From now on I will always remember to lock the deadbolt (and also remember my keys).

Lambykins, dead of murder at 19 months old

Former Canadian resident Lambykins, close companion of Luna and Solei Van Betta, was attacked in his home in Minnetonka, Minnesota this month and declared dead on the scene after medics were unable to revive him; he was 19 months old. Lambykins’ gruesome murder by evisceration, disemboweled during the light of day in a sleepy neighborhood, shocked friends and family and the still unsolved crime has residents living in constant terror.

Lambykins life began in Pickering, Ontario where he served as the plush Lamb of God. When not serving at the church, he lived with Habbie the Cat in Ajax, Ontario. Unfortunately, Habbie lost interest in Lambykins, who bore none of bells, feathers or catnip necessary to maintain a feline’s attention. Habbie’s parents recognized the need for a plush animal to be in a home where he could receive endless attention and found Lambykins a good home with his cousin from the States; Luna.

For two years Lambykins was a central member of the family, providing endless love and entertainment to Luna and her sister who arrived several months later; Solei. Lambykins and Solei instantly bonded and were rarely seen without each other for hours and hours at a time. The close knit relationship that Luna and Solei had with Lambykins makes their roles as the only suspects in the crime all that more shocking. Luna and Solei were home at the time of the crime and there were no signs of forced entry on the day of the murder.They have been questioned on their role in the murder but neither suspect is cooperating with the authorities, each refusing to talk.

Lambykins is survived by friends Mr. Monkey Jr., Squeaky Squirrel, Footy Football, Harry Hedgehog and Cupid the Dog. He is preceded in death by Mr. Monkey Sr., Bouncy Bunny, Hammy Pig and Tweety Bird. The family asks for well-wishers to give to animal charities like the Spay-Neuter Assistance Program, Homeward Bound Dog Rescue or The Top Dog Foundation in lieu of flowers.

Kitchen Declared a Disaster Area

I have so many memories of the kitchen in my childhood home. The science experiments we conducted on the stove, the time a water fight turned ugly and we shot our mother with the outside garden hose through the window, hiding my sister’s favorite stuffed animal in the oven, exploding things in the microwave, storing snowballs in the freezer so we could have snowball fights in the summer, and the time I had a fight with my sister and she almost broke my neck jamming it between the refrigerator and the back door. The list could go on and on, but there is one common theme to these memories... none of my childhood memories of the kitchen have anything to do with what kitchens are for; cooking, eating or entertaining. This is because this kitchen was poorly designed, horribly maintained by the previous owner and incredibly inadequate for doing anything other then boiling water. With your help, all that can change, read more to find out how…

My childhood kitchen needs a little TLC, the kind that comes from $25,000 and a professional decorator. Here is where your help comes in. Visit my mother’s page on the We network’s “Style Our Space” contest and vote that her kitchen is a total disaster. You can vote her kitchen as a “10” every day so we can see once and for all if my mother is really a bad cook, or if it was just because her kitchen didn’t allow her inner Emeril to shine. Vote early, vote often and spread the word... if this kitchen wins, Mom will cook us all dinner.

The Rite of Spring

Spring has sprung after a particularly cold and nasty winter and I couldn’t possibly feel worse. Cursing the snow and bitter cold from November through April is a favorite pastime; complaining about the weather is therapeutic. We count the days until spring when gray skies are lifted and sun beams shine upon the earth. Spring is nature’s re-awakening. God’s creatures emerge from a state of winter hibernation and suddenly squirrels are dancing in our yards, birds are chirping and dogs beg to be outside at all hours of the day. For many, this is a cause of celebration but unfortunately, I do not fall into this category. As much as winter is a long and loathsome season, the evils of Spring far outweigh the pain of winter.

Allergies: As flowers, leaves, weeds and grass make their yearly entrance into the world so do Zyrtec, Allegra and Claritin. First comes the low grade headache, then the itchy eyes, runny nose and then, the full blown sinus infection. While some people are allergic to rag weed or cut grass, I am allergic to Spring. Neglecting to take medicine can yield a waterfall of snot and misery that cannot be adequately described. Medicating the issue leaves gaps in memory, endless sleepiness, mood swings and dry mouth. The whole season is spent determining what is worse, the symptoms or the side-effects.

Spring Cleaning: This is no longer the monstrous task since outsourcing the care of my home in January; however, there are tasks that without a full-time housekeeper get neglected even with a cleaning service. Clearing items from refrigerator and freezer that are no longer recognizable, scrubbing out the refrigerator and freezer, clearing out all cabinets and drawers to dust and clean, dusting out book shelves, honestly assessing closets for donation opportunities, discovering what lies behind large appliances, power-washing the siding, emptying the garage to reorganize, and creating boxes filled with items for a Yard Sale that will never occur. Cleaning services rarely do windows either, luckily, that can be remedied yearly along with removing muddy paw prints from furniture with a swift phone call to a local handyman.

Yard Work: One of the major drawbacks of a large yard is what it takes to keep it beautiful. While never one to believe in gender roles, when it comes to our yard, this is my husband’s territory. If I were in charge, we would have a gang of men, preferably well built and wearing jeans and a smile, taking meticulous care of our grass. Unfortunately my husband, like many with a Y-chromosome, sees hiring a lawn service as some sort of admission of manly failure. While tasks like painting and dry-walling go undone, the yard is the primary focus of husbandly activities. There were battles of World War II that were more poorly planned then what lies ahead for our backyard this summer. This will not be a one man job, but since there is only one man living in the house, I will have to help.

Winter Insulation: With warm weather comes less clothing, less clothing means visible skin and long winters brings extra flesh. Nothing says spring is here quite like the realization that bathing suit season is around the corner and old man winter wasn’t kind to your rear-end. It is easy to hide under bulky sweaters, avoid exercise and pass on salads in the winter. As if fighting allergies was not enough to make one cranky in the Spring, the severe drop of calories consumed makes each day unbearable. There is no fury like a woman with sinusitis subsisting on a 1000 calorie a day diet.

Luckily, spring is a short season in these parts and soon summer will be upon us. Like the great Abraham Lincoln once said, “This too shall pass.” There is a beautiful light at the end of the tunnel, and it is called summer. Surviving winter and enduring spring is a brings an added appreciation of long nights, warm breezes, barbeques, daiquiris, volleyball, swimming and the boys of summer.