Lessons in a Mayonnaise Jar

This isn't mine; I have seen it in email chains and you can search it on google. I love illustrative stories and this is one of my favorites. Enjoy!

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee. A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous "yes." The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things; our family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car. The sand is everything else; the small stuff. "If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you. "Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first; the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand." One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled and said, "I'm glad you asked." The coffee just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

That Kinda Girl

I was clearing out in the old world of MySpace and found a few posts I had written. Here's one that made me smile... I am still THAT kinda girl, and it is good.

When I was younger, I never had A crowd. I had friends in all crowds; I liked it that way. I never really thought i was different...weren't we all THAT way?

I got my first tattoo and I was proud...but I knew I was to be a professional, a registered nurse and it needed to be out of view because it may make someone respect me less. I was THAT kinda girl, tattoos.

As an adult I moved to VA from NY. I knew I was different... one day a little old lady I was caring for in the hospital and I were talking and she asked where I was from. I knew better than to be proud to admit to being a NYer in VA, but simply stated NY with a smile. This sweet little old lady looked me straight in the eye and raised her brow. She asked me if I knew "the difference between a Yankee and a Damn Yankee"...with cautioned I replied, "No, Ma'am." Her subtle remark blew my mind... " a Yankee heads back from whence they came, a Damn Yankee stays." I became THAT kinda Yankee.

Sweet southern people thought we Yankees were so brass. Hmmm. I've dated all kinds of men in my life; white, yellow, brown, red and maybe even green. I have been told that a person can tell I am THAT kinda girl... one that would date out of her race. WHAT??? It took me over 30 years to know I was THAT kinda girl!

Not all of THAT is bad... I'd always loved motorcycles, but never rode regularly until I met the man of my dreams. I now happily ride on the back of his, but also love to be in control of my own. Did you know that when two motorcycles pass each other...they throw their hands in the air? Yes, the wave at each other. Sport bike, cruiser, young, old... common in being THAT kinda people. Classic cars... we do the same there too! We share a bond and respect at being THAT kinda person.

We just got a JEEP last week. It's not new...it's pretty, but pretty old. Windows off, top down- there is nothing like it. I could not believe it the first few times... I am now THAT kinda girl! Other Jeep wrangler, rubicon, sahara...top down, doors off kinda people all wave at us every time they pass.

Secret societies... you may not know unless you are a part of it! I'm proud of being THAT kinda girl... let's see... tattoos, piercings, interracial relationship, motorcycle riding, classic car driving, JEEP thing, yankee below the mason dixon line kinda girl. Maybe there is more under this scene...can you see it?

Mud Warrior... Misfit Mudders Make Their Mark

The excitement built, the fear climbed, the friends were roped in. Finally the day arrived, a fantastic Saturday morning. The sun was in the sky, the bacon on the griddle, the driweave fabric stretched over my dimpled behind, and the excuses circling in my head. All alone in the kitchen, conversing with the dog, asking advice how I could convince the near dozen people I excited about this day that I had come down with a rare, highly contagious disease that would prevent me from wallowing in the mud with thousands of other people. My magnificent mutt only offered a sigh of discontent.

Before I realized it, we were on our way. Meet a few here, meet a few there, sign a waiver, grab a t-shirt, and pose for a few clean before pictures. “Everybody hold up a 4-0 for Jen,” someone shouted. A menagerie of people all united for an afternoon, a challenge, a celebration, an 8k with 20 obstacles through the mud. We were all thinking, what were we thinking, but over the hill we went.

The finish line, the starting line, the 50 foot slide all began to appear. We needed more photographic documentation, A PYRAMID! We quickly knelt and climbed and spotted and smiled and created a people pyramid to be proud of. Really, who else did that? We were amazing, we were different, we were the misfit mudders. We got the safety shpeal, saw a few surprises and sprinted off for the first up hill battle. Around the flag and down the hill we ran, dancing through tires and diving into the mud, army crawling under barbed wire. Up again and off running through the woods.

It seemed like miles, but was more like feet when the burning from the barbed wire scratches on my neck became nothing compared to the burning in my thighs. The pack thinned out as the teenage boys sprinted into the distance and the middle aged women fell to the back of the pack. Up the hill we went, over the crest and another incline appeared. Each twist and turn seemed to get steeper and I felt as though I might vomit and my lungs seemed to shrivel up in revolt.  Just as I thought I’d quit I heard, “Come on, you can do it” and I felt as though I had a chance. Just as I could not make another step, a teammate in front of me needed a gentle hand and I could reach out a little further. As one fell back, another encouraged, as one caught a cramp, another caught their breath. We balanced each other; not one was ever the last, not one took the lead.  Eventually, we reached the top of that mountain.

We found the energy to jump and cheer and actually run down the hill and through a mass of swinging tires. We encountered other obstacles but challenged each other to run a little further and jog a little less between them. We balanced over beams, struggled over hurdles, swam through a mote, climbed up through mud, and coached each other up and over the walls. The team moaned and screamed and laughed and smiled and before we knew it, we were sprinting and leaping over fire to the final obstacle. One by one we slid 50 feet into a pit of mud and crossed the finish line. WE DID IT!

Clicking through our photos, all I can do is smile. Without each and every one of the people that shared this experience with me, I may not have made it. I may not have endured. I shared some of my most intimate, near failure moments with this group. Each one of them encouraged me and the other members of the team. Each one of them allowed the team to share their own moments with them. Thirteen people came together and shared an ultimate challenge.

It was a challenge that may have been out of reach for any of us individually. Together we conquered it. We conquered it without judgments, without criticisms. We conquered it with undeniable synergy, spirit and teamwork. Thank you, misfit mudders, you were amazing beyond my expectations. You have made a mark on my soul and I shall never forget what together we achieved.

Straight Runs

One of the items on my list was to purchase a $40 assortment of scratch off tickets. I did, and the saga still continues. One morning we were out of the house early for church and stopped in the convenience store to grab some coffee and $40 worth of scratch offs. Gambling on a Sunday proved a blessing as we scratched off $19 dollars in winnings. We recalled a fuzzy lesson from a champion scratcher: if you don’t win more than you spent, just get more. We followed that advice and redeemed our winners for a straight run of the luckiest tickets. We tucked them away until after church, scratching in the church parking lot somehow seemed wrong. J

As I drove to work a few days later, the sun blazed and I pulled down the visor revealing the forgotten tickets. Later that evening, scratching revealed another $9 in winnings. This luck continued and I have redeemed a winning ticket or two for a strip of new tickets at least once a week since the beginning of March. It continues as I still have a few winning tickets to redeem in my purse. It has been fun and has continued further than I could have imagined. The odds of winning a scratch off prize in Virginia are pretty good, publicized odds are about 1 in 4. The odds of winning the number drawings in Virginia are from 1 in 46 to 1 in 176,000,000. I have felt a little lucky, taken my chances, and dropped a few dollars playing the number drawings too. The odds have proven true as not one of those have been winners for me!

It has been reported that three millionaires were created in the recent mega millions drawing. Not one has come forward from the winning states of Maryland, Kansas or Illinois. If it were me, I would have come forward and dropped at least $750,000 by now! Really, what are they waiting for? Take a chance, drop a dollar. It is a win-win; gambling losses are tax deductible!