Remember when bubbles were innocent

like this warm spring day a couple of years ago?

In the still of our house, while the kids are away at school, the R and I work away on our little laptops, plink, plink, plink. Sometimes he issues profanities when the market turns in a way that is unexpected and crazy. Let's just say the dollar jar for charity is overflowing and I don't really think we can afford a donation that large. He needs to chill.

In the background CNBC is running. I may be busy trying to get pictures just so on a web page or designing a form to be used at school, but I can hear it. And.It.Drives.Me.Crazy. I know...I need to chill out myself, but ... CNBC? It is the epitome of all that is wrong with our world. Hearing financial people using terms like half-time and scorecard to describe the stock market to make themselves more accessible to us, the Joe the Plumbers of the world, makes me want to yell at the TV. Which I have been known to do.

For the past several days I can hear yammering of people analyzing how the new administration has caused a huge drop in the stock market with the plans that have been recently unveiled. Like a month ago we were all doing so much better. Yeah...I think I want Wall Street to determine how our economic system should be run. Because the free market should manage itself, right? RIGHT?! Sorry...I don't mean to yell at you.

Really, I'm all for the free markets. Logically it makes sense that the market should determine the price of goods. If it was all about supply and demand like in Economics 101 it would work just dandy. Once we get out of college however we realize how staged all of our textbooks are. Nothing is "all other things being equal". There are always many complicating factors. People with masters degrees in Finance don't have a clue about what will or won't work. How are we and Joe the Plumber supposed to figure it out.

My rant mainly is with all of the institutions in our lives that have directed us to be so intimately involved with the stock market. Our generation and the one coming up behind us were taught it's just crazy to NOT invest in the market over the long term because it goes up like 15% a year, right? RIGHT?! Uh oh...I'm doing it again. Sorry.

My investment advisor has told me for many years that you have to ride these ebbs and flows. That over time the market goes up. You shouldn't get out of the market because you miss out on the upswings. Well yeah...you don't want to miss out on those upswings. But wouldn't it be nicer to not lose thousands of dollars then have to take years to build it back to where it was before actually making more? Sure over the long term the market tends to go up. But that is over the long, long term. Not the next 3 to 5 years. Every time I would pull money out of the market he would strongly advise against it. He's fired.

My problem is that people have been convinced to put their retirement income, their savings into the stock market. It was the way that average Americans could also rake in the dough from this booming market. When I was young my parents didn't invest a lot of money in the stock market. You only invested what you could afford to lose. People at that time actually knew they could lose their investments. Now how do you save for retirement? Why put it into a 401K of course. And because you are now so good at saving for your retirement your company doesn't need to worry about providing you with that old pension. You're doing it all yourself. And about 8 years ago at this time people were trying to convince us to put our Social Security insurance into that same cool and booming market. Because shouldn't every day Joes have the opportunity to score big too?

Of course who benefits from that? Oh yeah, investment management companies and your company who no longer needs to provide you with that secured pension. Now I get it.

Now a lot of us don't have our MBAs from an Ivy league school, so we may not realize that so much of what companies are investing in is actually vapor. Economics 101 used things like guns and butter to describe resources and their management. Things you could touch. Things that if they were laying on the floor in the room you could find it. But we're much to sophisticated for that. No...we don't want to actually have our securities backed with something that has a known or quantifiable value. That's too easy. No instead let's invest it in something like...oh I don't know...oh YES! Mortgages!

Awesome. Because it just so happens that now mortgage companies have created these cool new mortgages that people can get without having any money down AND their payments are artificially low because they don't have to account for changes in interest rates over a period of 30 years using those well thought out and understood amortization formulas we used to always use. No! Now we can get people to buy the biggest house they can afford right now without even thinking about what will happen when interest rates go up and we have to charge them more for their mortgage. Well...it is written in their contract. Hopefully they read that part. And if they didn't that's their problem. Oh yeah...and the rest of America's, too. Oh well.

Not too long ago I wrote about the complexity of humanity and human thought. A lot of times when I look at what we humans do I chuckle. When I commuted to work in Silicon Valley and watched so many others like me going to do some weird job that society created a need for I used to laugh. It used to be that work was more tangible and you could actually see the results of what you did. A field plowed. A road built. A car coming off of the assembly line. Those jobs still exist, but what seems much more prevalent are jobs that used to be called paper pushing jobs, which now are more pushing bytes around. And worse, building bubbles. The chain that pushes a single paper, called a mortgage, around skimming fees for every fingertip touching it. It was a false economy. Not real. A pyramid scheme that fell apart when just a few people stopped sending their $ to the people listed at the top. It's not unusual for things to expand and contract too much. That is normal adjustments. But when things are built on a fake foundation it cannot help but completely fall.

Band aids don't fix broken bubbles. You have to let those go. Band aids are great at fixing surface level problems. Broken bones need to be reset and put into a cast for quite a while. Sometimes we have to suffer the bone being re broken so it will reset correctly. We need to have more tools than a few Superman band aids this time around. I worry though that we don't know how to do it. Because for so long the short term has been the goal. I truly believe that the short term thinking is part of what led to the huge amount of sheer greed that we've seen. But as with all crises huge opportunity exists. We can see that we've gone too far away from the fundamentals. But not so far away that we don't know what they are.

The Pencil and other little bits of philosophy

My kids love this tale of the little pencil who created people, animals, and places, and a little paintbrush who added color to their black, white, and grey world. When minor complaints arose about how things were, the pencil, after much pondering, drew an eraser. At first the addition of the little eraser made the world a better place. Change could happen. Change is good, right? Well...until this crazy little eraser became a bit too obsessed with its power. Our hero the pencil must think fast before it also is erased since this eraser is erasing all in its path, much like a tornado wipes out whatever gets in its way. Obviously not much of a thinker, since hey what would happen once there was no pencil to draw things to erase, the eraser just keeps charging ahead. What a kook! Well I don't want to spoil the surprise, but given that it's a children's story, you probably would expect that all is well in the end. After all without the pencil how could The Runaway Dinner be created?

What I loved about this book was that later in the day after reading it, the M asked where did the Pencil come from? I like it when one of my kids, especially in the 6 year old set, asks the questions that show they are thinking about more than where skittles come from and can I have some now?

Where did the Pencil come from? Well that would be an easy question were I especially religious, which while I believe in God, I don't think of myself as religious. My answer to him was that a lot of people would think that God made the pencil, at first ignoring the possibility that the pencil was a metaphor for God which actually makes more sense. I don't think fast during pop quizzes either. I did also suggest that some people would think the pencil just came to be, that it just was there, but it seemed hard to believe that it didn't come from somewhere. He was pretty much done with the conversation at that point, though I continued it in my head for days. (Several days later he did ask where the Universe came from, lest you think my incompetence at answering made it so he'd never ask a thoughtful question again.)

What haunted me were my own questions about religion. Years ago I came to the conclusion that I did believe in God; that it was too miraculous for all of this wonder to have come from molecules in chaos coming together just right. It's religion itself that gets me. Its humanness seems almost separate from God. It's attempt to explain the unexplainable is ... well ... so human. Frankly it's quite beautiful to me that we try so hard to find our place, to figure out the whys, and what is right. I just cannot believe that a single religion explains it all. I always wonder about the changes in human thinking over the ages. The Greeks truly believed in their Gods. The Romans believed in them, too. American Indians also use(d?) deities to reflect the beauty we see in our world, some of the fears, too. Even modern day religions have evolved along with human thought. My own attempt at explaining it all was to conclude that maybe God speaks to us each in the way we can understand. And this I truly believe.

But I would like to think that people do good because it's right, just plain right, to behave that way rather than because God mandated it. Even though I do believe in God, I do feel rankled when I perceive that people who follow a religion seem to feel morally superior to those who don't, for whatever reason they don't. I believe that you can do good without being told to.

I love that religions talk to our human frailties. I love Christianity's forgiveness and acceptance that we aren't perfect, can't be perfect (though we should try), and when we fail to be perfect we're still okay in this world. I'm also intrigued by representations of evil, because it is part of the awareness that we aren't perfect, that we become tempted, and that we should try with all of our might be rise above those temptations and see that the right path doesn't go there.

It is wondrous to me that we've created our societies in all of their complexity, that we've got many religions also very complex. I can't help but think that all of this has been put into place by God. But I bristle when someone talks about praying to God for something more concrete than strength, acceptance, tolerance, and knowledge. I don't get why God might chose one person over another because of prayer. After all I thought God had a plan, a plan beyond our capability to understand.

I wonder sometimes, though, if he would like to have an eraser. But then I guess you can't really go back in time to change things, can you?

Soaring on the Ground

As I was running the other day, outside in the 25-degree-with-moderate-humidity morning I thought about how much more I enjoy having my feet hit the pavement rather than the treadmill. Even though my left toe was frozen. While part of the enjoyment must have something to do with the actually going somewhere, rather than running in one place staring at the same walls, it is mostly the fact then when I'm running outside, I'm what is moving, not the ground. And I'm pretty sure I won't go flying off of the sidewalk. I've never actually fallen off of a treadmill, but I'm all too aware that it could happen. It stresses me out. I have lost my footing on the elliptical trainer causing me to swear out loud at the gym. Not good. I prefer to swear out loud to myself in the privacy of my car at someone who is not me.

I do enjoy listening to music in the gym. Even music that isn't to my taste. Though it is too much Simpson girls, not enough Avril or Sheryl for me. In spite of this, it helps my mind pass time while my body sweats. And distracts me from my concerns about missteps on the machines. Outside I enjoy the sounds of being outside. It's pretty quiet. I don't really notice the cars; there isn't a lot of traffic when I'm running. I stir up a few dogs in the neighborhood, though. Mainly when I run I hear my shoes on the pavement; I hear my breath.

I recently got myself an mp3 player and arm band to have when I run. I can run about a half an hour before calling it quits. Like changing routes has helped get me out the door, I am hopeful that having some music might distract me from my watch and keep me going longer and farther. If I'm going to run 6 miles in May I need to get going more than 3 miles now. I envision myself fumbling with the thing, though. Hopefully I won't get tangled in any wires. That might be worse than flying off the back of the treadmill.

After I had been running for a few months I told the R that I thought the runner's high was a hoax. I don't feel euphoric while running. That. Is. For. Sure. I have to convince myself to take every single step. I use objects and places in the distance to propel myself forward. A mile into a run, I worry that I could easily talk myself out of running any more, at any moment.

But then I did recently notice a trend in my mood. On my running days, after I've done my yoga, my shower, my hair and makeup, and espresso'ed my latte I feel pretty doggone good. Now I don't know if it is because I have a quiet morning so I have time to run, if it's the yoga I do after I run, or if it is indeed the actual running that leads to this. It's not just satisfaction. It's not just feeling pride that I did something good for myself and I can feel it in my bones. I do feel it in my bones and my muscles resonate with that slight feel-good pain. But it's more than that. It's actually a lifting of my spirits. After years of feeling somewhat dull I actually feel ... dare I say it? Happy.

That's enough to get me back out there tomorrow.

Turn that Badge Right Side Up!

This past Sunday my 3 boys each received the patch for their current Cub Scout rank. As per tradition the patches went on their shirt upside down to be turned over right side up after performing a good deed. During the long, two-and-a-half hour, 150 minute (did I say long?) ceremony my kids sat relatively entertained. There was actually no hat pulling, finger poking, eye-rolling, loud talking, giggling amongst them. That in and of itself was almost a good deed. It was kind of surprising actually.

The N did his first good deed by automatically getting into clean up mode once the drums stopped banging, and oldest Cubs turned into the youngest Boy Scouts. The J and the M had to leave with dad who was very, very ready to get outta there. So one out of 3 patches right side up on day 0.

To celebrate the new Scouts planning to ascend on that Eagle Trail, Mother Nature, Gaia, decided it would be a great day for Typhon to have his fun by blowing gusts of wind over 50mph. Have you ever noticed the windiest day is trash day? It was extra fun since it was also recycle day. We were able to pull our recycleables back in since we were home, but many, many, many others were not so lucky. Remember when your mom used to ask if a cyclone had hit your room? Our neighborhood resembled that room. When the kids came home from school they were completely awestruck at the level of debris flying around. I bet a few birds were concerned about the plastic grocery bags flying in their lanes. Mother Nature's game was truly impressive.

But what impressed me was the kids. Instead of "Mom, may I have a snack and watch Cyberchase" I heard, "Mom, can I go out and pick up the trash?" A pack of elementary school aged kids (about 8) took to the bushes, the streets, the yards, the ditches and filled 18 trash bags full of recycleables that didn't make it to the recycle center. One of them was lucky and found $20. Not one of mine, though.

All in all, there were many good deeds done. The best part? They asked to do it. They thought of it themselves. No adult intervention required.

Take A Deep Breath...or Maybe Not!

There are so many people in the news that I'm not sure why I even know who they are. The octuplets mom for example. This really shouldn't be news. And what is so ironic is that people are so horrified by her story, so angry that she's trying to get book deals and tv shows and whatever...and yet if those people would just ignore her and people like her maybe we wouldn't have to hear about it.

Another celebrity news feature which has actually affected my household, resulting in the ban of Mini-Wheats and Special-K cereal products is the Michael Phelps bong toking incident. Now we wouldn't have banned these products if Kelloggs hadn't gone all indignant declaring that he isn't morally fit to represent their products. Too bad they're not that concerned about marketing Frosted Flakes and Rice Krispies, both of which are pretty devoid of nutrition, to our kids.

Now I certainly don't condone his behavior and part of me thinks that someone who knowingly behaves so stupidly in public deserves to suffer some harsh consequences. I mean really, certainly he would know that would not be viewed favorably by his endorsers and if you are riding the gravy train you better watch what you do. But it's pretty ridiculous that we feel like we know someone because he won 8 gold metals swimming or because we see a picture of him partying down. Because really. We don't. Respect his athletic talent, but don't make him something he's not. Like a hero.

So how do we know he sees his shadow anyway?

If he sees his shadow, thus predicting 6 more weeks of winter, pretty much like the calendar says, we should have snow in our forecast. Instead we're in the 50's and 60's this week. That just isn't winter!

Has there been research done on the vision of a groundhog? Do they have rods and cones? Are we sure that their little eyes see things the way we do, especially after being awakened in the middle of hibernation? I know I might not be able to see very clearly after being asleep for almost 2 months! Maybe his eyes don't process shadows. How would we know?

One thing I know I'm grateful for...I can't even imagine not seeing my shadow during the day. Even when it's cloudy there is enough light peeking out to cast a soft shadow. If I couldn't see the shadows, maybe I'd start dragging groundhogs or ground squirrels out of their holes and see what they think! At that point I guess anything for a little excitement!

A Month Gone By

Already a month into 2009. My age is showing because it really does feel like it's been about a week since Christmas. In fact I confess to having a few Christmas decorations here and there even though it's February! My little pewter reindeer may end up spending the summer up there!

These guys will eventually be put away, but hey...it's supposed to be winter. We should have a few snowmen around here.

But don't tell that to this little guy:

This sign on our front door may be a little out of date:

It's supposed to be replaced by this, but I haven't gotten very far with it!

In just 2 short weeks I'll have a son who is a decade, that's 2 digits, old. Sometimes it seems like he's already a teen, but then at others ... well sometimes we have to remind him of what good bathroom habits are!

And in just a few short months I'll be one year closer to half of a century. Not quite a half century, but I won't be able to get any closer.

It's amazing how time has been sifting through my fingers. In some ways I find that each grain, like each snowflake, is amazingly complex and infinitely analyzable, but when I look at the whole I just have a pile of sand. I'm still finding the best ways to mold it, to have just the right amount of water that as I dump my pail it comes out lumped in one piece stable enough to build onto, but still moldable so I can cut windows, doors, and moats into it. I hope that once I reach that half century mark I'll have something that I can stick a little flag into. Not something finished. Not something ready to be pulled into the ocean. I'm not nearly ready for that! Just enough of something of my own to show for my time here so far.