I'm Just Sayin'

When I grow up, I want to be a Peanut M&M
you quip
a little too smugly like you discovered a secret.

You already are
I reply
a whole bag of them.

Feeling sick like I had eaten too many sweets
or drank too much gin
or stayed too long in the sun
or maybe all three.

You like that answer
I can tell
but I hadn't meant to flatter or amuse.

Ironic from the one who always makes you smile.

But what color M&M am I
you persist
and I want to pour them all down your throat
and suffocate you with the bag.

I told you
You are the whole damn bag
or else it wasn't about you at all.

I’ve had several conversations recently about happiness. I know several people who are wrestling with the word and the concept. I struggle too, but I think I have come to terms with what it means to be happy. As a writer, I feel compelled to share my insights with you. (And, yes, I am fully aware of how happy that makes you, the reader. Not happy? Step off. No hard feelings. Open, but cautious? Read on, my people! Blindly accepting? Seriously, why are you even here?)

But here is where I found my answers: in the reality of everyday life, in the pure and simple gestures of people that I call my friends, in the common bonds of blood and tears and human endeavor. I realized there are people who actually want to be happy and others who don’t. There are those who cultivate  happiness, and others who seek to kill it at its roots. I think I’ve learned to identify those on either end of the happiness spectrum, and to chart those, like me, who land somewhere in the middle.

A friend (in life and on Facebook) posted that she is going to take up running to honor her late mother by participating in Disney's Tinkerbell Half Marathon. Since I myself took up running a few short months ago, and like my friend, I carry around more than my share of womanly wonderfulness, I thought she might benefit from my recent experience.

So, here are my tips for big girls on the go. Some are serious and some are less serious. I hope you can tell the difference.

1. Understand that you are going to sweat. A lot. And smell bad. And your mascara is going to run, even if you buy the most expensive waterproof stuff.

2. If you insist on trying to look cute when you run, go ahead and get some special outfits, in colors that don't clash with red, because your face is going to turn beet red with exertion. Don't forget matching hair scrunchies.

3. Get some Pat Benatar music on your iTunes. She's very empowering. I recommend "Invincible."

4. Buy the best shoes you can afford, but realize that you are going to have to replace them frequently. They are going to take a beating.

5. Invest in some reusable ice packs. I need them for bad knees. You will probably need them for those dainty little ankles of yours. And some Alleve. And muscle soak crystals for the bath.

6. Start out on a soft, level surface, like a track. It's much easier on the joints, which are already working harder than they want to. Eventually you can transition to street running if you are not paranoid about motorists wisecracking about your ass ...

7. Wear some big shades. So even if motorists are making fun of your ass, they won't know it's you.

8. Start with walking, then add short bursts of running. I think it actually is pretty effective for calorie burning and metabolism boosting. Gradually increase your running bursts and your total distance.

9. You might be tempted to run with a buddy. I don't recommend it. You will want to chat and gossip with your pal, and you just can't do that and run. Not yet anyway. Trust me. Ask my friend Stacy about the Children's Miracle Network 5K... We caught up with our lives, but not with the runners ahead of us ...

10. Stretch, stretch, stretch...and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. By the way, wine is not particularly effective for hydration. Voice of experience.

11. On your off days, try some leg-strengthening exercises like leg presses, squats and lunges. It will help keep your muscles loose and support your joints.

That's enough to get you started, my friend. See ya on the roads, but don't you dare talk smack about my ass ...

Washington D.C. is probably not Emerald City, but this campaign of 2012 is feeling a lot like the Yellow Brick Road.

I recently signed on as a volunteer for the Elisabeth Motsinger for Congress campaign, and joined a small but steadfast band of down-to-earth dreamers who are determined that North Carolina will be represented by a woman who shares our values: equal access to affordable healthcare; opportunities for quality public education; a growing economy in a thriving natural environment; protecting human rights and ending discrimination in all its forms.

I will not cast myself as Dorothy, and I dare not assign roles to my colleagues on the campaign trail. But I will say this: unlike L. Frank Baum’s beloved characters in The Wizard of Oz, we already know that we have everything we need. We need not search for Scarecrow’s brain, because our candidate has the intelligence she needs to make the right decisions for North Carolina. Tin Man’s heart? Got it. Elisabeth Motsinger has shown remarkable compassion through her work as a physician’s assistant, her service on the School Board, and her activism on social and environmental issues. Courage? Forget about it, Cowardly Lion. When the local paper endorsed her opponent in the primary, Elisabeth replied, “I would like to thank the Winston-Salem Journal for noticing that I am an activist for liberal causes. My actions are firmly grounded in my moral vision and I make no apologies for standing fast.” The campaign staff was spitting nails, but our candidate showed us back bone and calm, reasoned courage of conviction.

And Dorothy’s fervent desire to find her way home? Elisabeth has the vision to restore the American dream. “I believe in real prosperity for real people,” she says. “America should be the land of opportunity for everyone. Our society can make sure that the generations that follow us inherit an America where dreams can still be achieved.”

In the Wizard of Oz, the Good Witch Glinda told Dorothy that she only had to believe to find her way home. Elizabeth Motsinger believes in America, and I believe in Elisabeth. And we all know who is the Wicked Witch of the West.

Just sayin.