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	<title>WIRL Project &#187; Life/Leisure</title>
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	<description>What It&#039;s Really Like.</description>
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		<title>Reality &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/reality-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/reality-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 18 Nov 2015 16:00:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Style/Beauty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[bedtime with toddlers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Born]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Challenge]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Marriage]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mornings]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[News]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[No Coffee]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Real World]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Reality]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Road Rules]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Toddler]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9912</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… Back in 1998 MTV debuted the reality TV show Real World/Road Rules Challenge – better known as simply, “The Challenge”.  In reflection of my current life I have found that much my own reality is impacted by challenges from the real world and the rules of the road. *** BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS: 4:30AM – the alarm rings out.  The real world will begin after a few open handed smacks of the snooze button.  Is it mommy or daddy’s turn to take the boys to school?  Whoever’s turn it is has the first shower.  I can’t remember what she said last night.  Was it me or her?  She’s not moving.  Shit, I think it’s my day.  Yep, it is.  OK I’m up. Ouch!  How many times am I going to kick that laundry basket before somebody moves it?  Where is the light?  What’s the difference?  I can’t see anything anyways.  Toothbrush.  Man, the lights are bright.  I’ll try to rub my eyes a few times to clear my eyesight.  Whoa, wish I could not see again.  You look like crap.  When is the last time you worked out?  Ugh, I guess I’ll weigh myself.  That might motivate me to run tonight after work.  Please don’t be high.  WOW.  How is that possible?  I feel 25 pounds heavier than that.  I still feel like crap, though.  Lucky.  Probably still won’t run tonight, anyway. Pounding sinus headache.  Not a sip of alcohol last night and I feel like I’ve pulled an all-night bender and just stopped drinking an hour ago.  Time for the shower.  Don’t forget to turn the light on in Little room before you get into the shower.  It is taking a lot longer for him to get out of bed lately.  Maybe today I can get him dressed on his own without World War III breaking out.  Doubt it. What the hell do I wear today?  This closet selection is so sad.  God, I hate ironing my pants.  Why don’t I do this the night before?  Oh, Kathy’s up.  I’m not going to say anything.  She’s not a morning person.  That’s ok.  I feel like my head is going to explode and I don’t feel like talking either.  Let’s see if Little B is up while I wait for the iron to warm up.  Nope.  He won’t even move.  Why can’t he sleep this hard EARLIER in the night?  I’ll shake him to get things going. “Hey, buddy.  Time to wake up.  Rise and shine!” “No, no, nonono, GO AWAY DADDY.  Leave me ALONE!” When did my toddler turn into a teenager? “Five minute warning and we are going to get dressed.” “No, no, NOOOOOOOO!” I’m so glad he hasn’t learned any cuss words.  I half expect him to use a few one of these mornings. OK, I am dressed.  Now let’s get him dressed.  This has to be the worst part of the day.  What is my strategy?  He’s been terrible to wake and get ready lately.  Sneak attack?  No, that makes things worse.  I can’t bribe him this early.  Let him make the choice. “Who do you want to get you dressed – Mommy or Daddy?”  Classic line.  He usually picks the opposite. “Noooooo!  I DON’T KNOW” That didn’t work.  Now what? Have to try the bribe. “If you get up and get ready without crying we can go get donuts on Friday morning before school.  Do you want donuts?” “I don’t want donuts.  I don’t want to go to school.  Leave me alone, Daddy!” This is turning into a hostage negotiation. *15 minutes pass* I can’t take this anymore.  I am going to start yelling.  Now I’m yelling louder.  OK, now I am threatening to spank him.  Should I spank him?  He just woke up.  That’s really not right.  He is really pissing me off today.  I’m going to be late.  Enough is enough.  Well, that didn’t work.  He’s bawling now.  Kathy just walked in.  THANK GOD.  He has everything but his socks on now.  Good enough.  She can brush his teeth and comb his hair.  I’m out of here. I am starving.  It’s 6:25.  SERIOUSLY?!  I have not even eaten yet.  Why are there no clean spoons?  Cereal sucks when you ate the same exact meal as a snack before going to bed.  ARRRGHHHH!  I just remembered!   I have to pack my lunch.  Unreal.  I have no time for this.  I hear Little B coming down the stairs.  How did she brush his teeth so fast?  No wait, he’s at the top of the stairs refusing to come down.  Awesome.  He hasn’t eaten yet either.  Let’s try the line again. “What do you want for breakfast?  Mommy or Daddy’s cereal?” “I don’t want breakfast!  I want NUFFING!” I look at the clock.  It is 6:29.  Zero hour is 6:30.  The commute is only 15 miles, but traffic is horrific.  If I don’t leave before 6:30 I won’t make it to work until after 8:00.  Screw it.  Leftovers.  Where is the ice pack for my lunch?  Of course I forgot to put it back in the freezer yesterday.  Good thing we have a backup.  Cute, real cute.  The backup ice packs are so fat that the Tupperware doesn’t fit in my lunch bag.  Guess I’ll have to make a sandwich after all. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR BREAKFAST?” “NUFFING!” I’m pouring a bowl, I don’t care.  At least I can say that I tried. “Here’s your cereal” “I DON’T WANT IT” “OK, Daddy is going to eat it or throw it away” “NONONO!” (crying ensues)  “I want to eat it!!!” “Sit down at your little table and eat it then.” “Ok… I WANT A BIG SPOON!  I DON’T WIKE THE GREEN BOWL!  I WANT THE BLUE BOWL!!!!” You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.  You know what, I am not even going to fight him today.  Where is that damn blue bowl?  Dirty in the dishwasher.  Figures.  Well that’s out the window. “EAT IT OR IT GETS THROWN AWAY!” (Sobbing ensues) What time is it now?  6:34. I can still make decent time if I am in my truck by 6:45. COFFEE. This can’t be happening.  THERE IS NO COFFEE.  I have no time to make coffee. “Welp, there is no coffee!!!” “I’m so sorry Brody, I can’t do everything around here!” Oops.  That wasn’t for her to hear.  She did get Little B and Baby K ready without my help.  Doesn’t matter anymore. I explode. I light into everything in the kitchen.  Little B, Kathy, the freezer, coffee maker.  I’ll even cuss out my lunch bag while I’m at it. Shut up and get out before you ruin everyone’s day. Truck keys.  I’ve got to get out of here.  I’m going to be late.  I feel horrible for not helping Kathy.  She won’t want my help now because I yelled back at her.  Why do I do that? *15 minutes pass* We are all loaded up.  Deep breath.  We made it.  Start the truck, garage door down, aaaand adjust radio.  No Country this morning.  I need to calm down.  Where is the Jazz station?  There that is better.  Silence. “Daddy, I hungie (hungry)”. *** For me, reality comes in one giant cycle commencing and culminating with two massive countdowns for launching (departing the house) and landing (bedtime).  The road rules quality time spent with my children during three hour commutes in which I stare at the rearview mirror into the backs of their little eyelids after they have passed out from a long day at school.  The reality of “R” is a challenge that each of us faces every day. Rise, retain, remain, retire. Repeat. &#160;]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>Q: Quality &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/q-quality-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/q-quality-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Nov 2015 09:00:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[News/Sports]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Conversation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Genuine]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Handwriting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Morris the Cat]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Old School]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quality]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quality of Life]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Race to Nowhere]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sterling Silver]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Time Spend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tupperware]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9765</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… Traditionally when facing a major upcoming purchase I try to settle on a selection where performance meets value.  Usually there comes a point when I determine whether or not the price justifies the quality of the item.  “Quality” items generally harbor fine qualities, but not the finest.  For most, quality generally floats somewhere between the best and good enough. To me it’s more than that. My grandmother used to have a clear drinking glass that had Morris the Cat embossed on the side of it.  (For those of you not familiar with Morris the Cat, he was the mascot for 9lives cat food back in the 1970s.)  There was an illustrated thought bubble that was pointing from Morris’ head that said, “Morris on glass is like Sterling on silver.”  Apparently, Morris felt that the quality of his drinking glass was pretty damn good.  There were three things that my grandmother was fond of: sterling silver, genuine leather (she liked to pronounce it gen-U-whiiine leather) and Tupperware.  None of which boasted the finest qualities, but quality nonetheless.   “It is better to have second hand diamonds than not at all”, she used to tell me.  I suppose those are quality words to live by. Quality comes from the old school.  Literally.  Craftsmanship is a lost ability, even sometimes on me.  Many people do not know how to use it let alone spot it.  I occasionally tell my dad that I am disappointed in myself for not learning to be more handy and technically skilled with my hands like he is.  He has told me several times that my handy skills will be there when I need it.  I was proud of myself recently for selecting a beautiful solid oak desk from a local second hand store to replace our wobbly “L-shaped” corner desk we purchased from Staples for $75 several years ago as newlyweds.  I know that this is a quality item because the craftsmanship, detail and finish are a thing of beauty.  Plus, the thing weighs about 1,000 lbs. so there is no doubt that it was made well.  There is no substitute for quality.  They definitely don’t make them like they used to. Speaking of the old school…as a teacher I have discovered a lost academic art is in handwriting and conversation.  The handwriting of today’s teenagers is absolutely atrocious.  Carrying on a conversation can be even worse.  So many quality learning experiences are lost to the quantity of information attempted to be absorbed by an insatiable need of a smart device.  Take a walk down any high school hallway during a class change and you will see it firsthand.  Count how many students have their heads down while they walk, glued to their cell phones with ear buds in their ears.  It’s no wonder why this new upcoming generation has been said to be on the “race to nowhere”.   It is probably no coincidence that a capital cursive ‘Q’ appears to be shaped like the number ‘2’ and that it takes two people to carry on a quality conversation. In the baseball vernacular, when a starting pitcher completes 6 innings while allowing less than 3 runs it is known as a quality start.  As a parent, my QS% is quite low when my wife and I struggle to get our two boys out of the house each morning.   A parenting quality start should be a combination of no tears, fights (between parents or children), forgotten daily items, and making it to work on time. Lately I have found myself asking myself about quality quite frequently.  I often wonder where I spend quality time vs. where my time is most spent.  Within that poses the question of quality of life.  Personally, where does performance meet value?  It is why some of us opt for the car wash over spending time washing by hand or why some of us choose to put a loaf of bread in the refrigerator.  The tradeoff is time spent vs. quality of life.  I guess that is why my wife and I have decided we prefer quality of life by relocating back to our hometown to be near our families.  It may also be why we likely continue to keep putting the loaf of bread in the refrigerator.  It’s all about preserving the quality of life.]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>P: Poise &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/p-poise-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/p-poise-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 26 Oct 2015 03:57:28 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[News/Sports]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Collapsing Pocket]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Competition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Conversions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fall]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Football]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Opposition]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Optimism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Panic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poise]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Possession]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pressure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Quarterback]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9575</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  Poise – verb &#8211; to hold (something) in a balanced and steady position The season of fall features a great dose of excitement for sports fans.  Playoff baseball, college/professional football, hockey and basketball all joust for the spotlight in the late months of the year in America.  As the days grow shorter, so do the sleep patterns of most sports enthusiasts attempting to absorb as much of the action as possible while still being able to have the strength to function on a day-to-day basis. I have always been able to sit down and immerse myself in an athletic contest even without knowing anything about either team playing.  The art of competition is fascinating.  As in most sports, skill, will and a bit of luck all play a role in determining factors in the eventual outcome of a game.  A man I used to coach with used to tell our players the competition was about weathering the storm.  Players should anticipate a violent storm during the contest.  It would be inevitable.  Would they allow the storm to disrupt the game plan and their top goal or would they hold steady during inclement conditions?  Most times, but not always, the team that does the best job at balancing the highs and lows emerge victorious. Saturdays and Sundays in the fall place a popular focus on the football gridiron.  Each game a significant amount of attention is paid to the quarterback position.  This is understandable for the large number of responsibilities the signal caller holds on each play.  Having played the position before I have an insurmountable respect for each player that gets under center.  Beyond ball handling and arm strength the quarterback position requires many intangible skills; most of which cannot be taught: composure, leadership, decision making, instinct, adaptability, internal clock and moxie.   Aside from athletic talent, all of those skills can be boiled down into one classification: poise. Great poise is undeniable.  Coach K writes in his book (Beyond Basketball) “…poise is the opposite of panic…it (poise) requires maturity.  It’s about remaining mentally and emotionally balanced all the time, no matter what is taking place around you.”  I obviously no longer play football, but that does not mean that I have stopped trying to sidestep the oncoming rush of the opposition.  One of the first cardinal rules to follow as a quarterback is to take care of the football and maintain a possession.  Many aspire to be placed in a position to call the shots having no idea what it takes to stand in the pocket and play the game.  When faced with pressure are you converting or turning it over?  When the rush is on and the pocket is collapsing how do you protect what is important and maintain possession of something you have worked so hard to claim?  Poise or panic?  We all play our own game.  We all face a different opponent.  Only you can answer that question. &#8220;Clear the mechanism&#8221; -Billy Chapel &#8220;Ease the pounding of your heart by quieting your mind&#8221; -GMa &#8220;Keep calm and carry on&#8221; -WWII Brits Evidence and reminders of poise are all around.  Face each day possessed with optimism, meet your opposition with poise and keep on converting. ]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>O: Odor &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/o-odor-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/o-odor-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 12 Oct 2015 14:04:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Did you Fart]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dirty Deeds]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dirty Jobs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dunder Chief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fallen Soldiers]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Like Father Like Son]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Odor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Smell Test]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9272</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  Did you fart?? These are the famous last words of parents with children under the age of five before discovering the source of a particularly pungent smell. This statement is usually uttered while driving down the road or while settling in the living room to watch a little late evening TV. If you are a parent you know the job can be smelly business. I am still waiting for Mike Rowe to do an episode of Dirty Jobs on the occupation of parenting. Our house possesses no shortage of a variety of smells. Some days are better than others. It usually is a balance somewhere between locker room, gourmet kitchen, waste water treatment plant and field full of wildflowers. Like Father, Like Son Unfortunately, my oldest son has inherited his parents feet. His feet are wide like mommy’s and stinky like daddy’s. Since he is growing so quickly we usually elect to buy him shoes that are an off-brand to save money. I am not sure if the lower grade material amplifies the smell or that his feet stink that much. Living in the south produces challenges on its own with high humidity and high average temperatures. You can imagine the stench that is produced when a sweaty preschooler removes his shoes in the back of a car after playing hard for an hour in the July Georgia heat. *Author’s note &#8211;   Although he has been running around the house today without shoes on, my son just ran by and crop dusted me on the way to the “potty” as I was sitting here typing this post.  Trash Tricks Another problem that poses itself in the southern heat is the trash. During the summer months my wife and I have to strategize the week’s menu based upon its “smell factor” by which it decomposes in the trash can. I can always count on having chicken on Tuesday or Wednesday leading up to trash day on Thursday to shorten the life of the horrendous rotting odor that is emitted with discarded chicken scraps. Typically perfectly cooked chicken can turn over in less than eight hours in the southern summer months. Fallen Soldiers Leftover snacks, juice/milk sippy cups and fallen foodstuffs all leave an undesired wasteland in family vehicles. Some of the items are immediately found others are discovered later when the real catastrophic mess happens. Usually by then the damage has been done and the smell has made itself permanent. One of the most difficult things to do is to keep a car clean with a toddler and a newborn. This is near impossible to accomplish this feat in the interior of a newer car. Tack on a wife who has the family nickname, “Puddles” and you could have yourself a real problem. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap I used to have a roommate in college who thought the lyrics to this ACDC song were, “Dirty deeds and the Dunder Chief”. After he was called out on his lyrical snafu, some of my college friends actually considered dressing up as the Dunder Chief for Halloween. After much debate and many adult beverages, the costume idea died after no one could decide on what the great Dunder looked like. That story reminds me of another fine skill that I learned in college, The Smell Test. You can only imagine the types of smells coming out of an all-male college apartment. (Let’s not omit the other gender population. Ladies, I have been in plenty of all-female college apartments 10-times as nasty as our little hole. I will not pass judgment or gender discriminate. In elementary school learned about Santa and in college I learned that girls are not sugar and spice and everything nice.)  The dominating odors that I recall lofting through my college apartment were a delicate perfume blend of stale beer, rotting pizza, Hawaiian Breeze Plug-ins and musk. Somewhere in the barrage of college life, hopefully one does laundry. During the hustle and bustle of a college week, laundry comes and goes and most of it rarely gets put away. Laundry does not come with a born on date so it is often difficult to know its shelf life. This is especially true if you were anything like a typical college student that when it came time to do laundry chances are you took a truckload of it home with you to your parents’ house every four weeks or so. It was there on campus that I perfected the smell test with the motto, “When in doubt, sniff it out”. The Smell Test has become an important attribute of fatherhood as it can signify a diaper change, time of death of a fallen soldier (see above) or when a toddler DIY post-#2 “all by myself” wipe might not have been mission accomplished. Parenting requires the versatility of steady nose and the ability to breathe out your mouth. “Where Did That Come From?!” Potty training your toddler will cause your nose perk up and ask, “Where did that come from?” and your eyes ask, “WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???” Flatulence, bowel movements, “tee-tee”, formula burps, spit up, projectile vomit, snot waterfalls  – parenting is not for the faint of heart or the non-iron stomached. In high school, my brother’s friends could make our friend Mike almost instantaneously vomit just by making gagging gestures and barfing noises. Today he is the father of two beautiful children. I am still not sure how he persevered during the “bodily fluid years”. I will never forget on a recent road trip home for Thanksgiving with my first born son. We drove straight through the night so that he would be asleep for most of the trip. Around the beginning of rush hour we were making our way through Cincinnati, Ohio.  While maneuvering in and out of traffic at 75 miles-per-hour my wife and I hear a gurgling sound from the backseat that was surprisingly louder than the car radio. She and I looked at one another wide eyed and turned around.  We knew that the enormous amount of dairy that he had just consumed at the hotel continental breakfast (milk and yogurt) was about to appear in the backseat. Nearly three seconds later there was a milky shower pouring in, out and over his car seat. The sour odor of dairy by-product immediately filled the warm interior of my car that had its heat blasting to take the chill off from outside. After several treatments with carpet cleaner and Febreze, I resorted to covering nearly my entire backseat with baking soda. I rode around for the next month and a half until the remedy finally conquered the smell. Absolutely awful. Take it from me, as a parent of two boys and after changing an infinite number of diapers I now know exactly what the Dunder Chief looks like (and smells like).]]></description>
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		</item>
		<item>
		<title>N: Navigation &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/n-navigation-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/n-navigation-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 30 Sep 2015 07:30:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs Automated Driving Blind Family Minivan Fork in the Road Good Driving GPS Lifetime Maps Navigation Next Stop Recalculating Sense of Direction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=9118</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  “When you come to a fork in the road, take it!” – Yogi Berra Few items have revolutionized the transportation industry over the last 25 years have been as have navigation and global positioning systems (GPS).  I have fond childhood memories of family road trips that I can picture my mother riding shotgun with a large map of the current state we were in sprawled across the dash and on her lap.  When it comes to the most stressful occupations, a few come to mind: emergency first responder, airplane captain and being my dad’s co-pilot – in that order.  Usually the only time my brother and I stopped picking on and fighting with each other in the backseat was to witness the fireworks between my parents if we made a series of consecutive wrong turns.  It was in the family minivan I learned the finer qualities of hostile negotiations, crisis management and conflict resolution. Personal GPS devices enable us many fantastic features such as fastest route, shortest route, points or interest and lane assist – just to name a few.  You may find the speedometer, compass, elevation and destination arrival time to be most useful.  All attributes of a personal GPS are of magnificent use, but what happens when your anticipated journey does not have a destination?  What if you do not know where you are going?  How will you know when you arrive? Typically when using a navigation system the first step is to enter a desired destination.  Most users can punch in an exact location, others may use smart features of the device to find a destination that is near or sounds like the user’s manual entry.  If you don’t know where you are going when using a GPS, chances are the unit will provide you with a destination – whether you like it or not.  For example, depending on what side of town I am on my Garmin provides me with two identical addresses when I use it to assist travel to my grandmother’s house.  The first, and incorrect selection, is located 15-20 minutes from her home.  This is just one primary example of how confusing driving in and around Atlanta can be (I am certain there are over 100 Peachtree Roads in ATL). Over the past year my own internal, human GPS has stopped working.  In the past I have had the ability to have some insight to predicting future outcomes or final destinations.  It seems that as I have gotten older I have lost the reliability of this skill.  I have recently discovered that my internal GPS did not come equipped with Lifetime Maps. It is either time to upgrade or to drive blindly to the next stop.  Several of my destinations have recently come into question – personally and professionally.  What location is best for my family in order to be near family members that are ailing?  What career track should I take?  Ultimately, what are the best routes?  Are these destinations along the route we are currently traveling or should we head in a different direction? “Recalculating!”  You don’t hear this annoying alert on newer GPS devices.  Instead, more modern units silently shift and adapt mapped routes to help ease the tension of the driver either by default or anticipation.  This alert has also stopped functioning for me.  Are we certain that the directions have refreshed and that we aren’t heading back the way we came?  Sometimes I feel as though we have been driving in circles, passing the same landmarks every year at the same time. It is difficult to trust your instincts when most everything that we use in our daily lives is automated.  During a recent lunch break conversation with colleagues, we were discussing our individual bouts with horrendous Atlanta traffic.  When it became my turn to share I began rattling off my daily trip itinerary from home to day care and to school.  Eventually I found myself listing off roads and highways along with departure/arrival times.  During my rapid fire deliverance I began to see the eyes widen on some of the members in our lunch group.  The comment was made, “For someone who is not from around here you sure know your way around.  How do you do that?”  I explained that once I get somewhat familiar with a location I stop using the GPS altogether.  I choose to remove the proverbial “crutch” or “training wheels” so that I can obtain more from my surroundings that goes far beyond what is on a 3.5-inch screen.  It’s a trait that I learned from my grandfather well before I ever sat behind the wheel.  He said that if you knew the general cardinal direction before setting out on a journey you will never get lost.  From that, I have always had a great sense of direction.  As of late, not so much. I am a firm believer in faith.  I am a firm believer in learning the roads you travel and the value of the experience along the journey.  I am a firm believer that I am a good driver.  Where do I want to be?  Who do I want to be?  How should I get there?  I have confidence that I can navigate through life without a GPS and whatever road I choose to take will eventually take me to where I am meant to be.]]></description>
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		<title>M: Memory &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/m-memory-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/m-memory-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 21 Sep 2015 07:30:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Health/Fitness]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Authentic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Concussions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Experience]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Grandparents]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Memory]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Prized Possessions]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Roses in December]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Senses]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Short Term Memory]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8842</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  “God gave us our memories so we might have roses in December” You would be surprised how much you can pick up while dining on a ham and cheese sandwich, three bread and butter pickles and a can of 7up. You might even be shocked what you may learn on a Friday at noon while sitting around consuming a weekly traditional Friday McDonald’s Fish Filet. You would certainly be astonished to discover what can be absorbed while sitting around the dining room table after a Sunday family dinner over coffee and a piece of pie. Most of the memories in my life are not shrines to individual occurrences but a museum of eclectic experiences that draw on meaningful connections meriting reservation deep in the vault of my mind. These collections are deeply enriched with attributes of all the senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch – the more of the senses that are involved with a meaningful experience, the clearer the memory. For me, emotion is the X-factor in my personal memory because in recalling a vivid memory I can likely tell you how I felt in that exact moment. Food plays an important role in memory for me personally. Most of the meaningful education that I would ever receive was not obtained in a classroom, on an athletic field, or on the job, but around the dinner table. This is where I learned to communicate, manners and respect and about my family’s heritage. It was here that I also learned the art of storytelling and to appreciate the craft of an authentic, genuine narrative. Maybe that is why I became a history teacher. Some of my most fond memories were of the chronicles, sidetracks and matter-of-facts that my grandparents would tell during and after a Sunday family dinner. Most often we would take turns exchanging material on a topic only soon to be lost in a distant memory of “who is he/she related to” and “how do we know this person so-and-so and to whom is he/she related”. This traditionally would go on for hours leaving me glued to the finish of our dining room chairs and convinced that my grandparents knew every single person on the face of the earth. Many of those stories are now lost upon me either because I could not follow the viney scaffolds and extensions of our family tree or because it has been replaced in my mind with something far less meaningful, for which I am ashamed to admit. One of my most prized possessions is my memory. One of my biggest fears is losing this possession. I often get after my wife because I believe that we do not take enough pictures of our family and experiences. A memory I will never forget is from the 6th grade. Our teacher chose to do a class service project for senior citizens in a local assisted living home. I was so excited when I learned that it was the same home that my great-grandmother was in. Each member of the class was to be assigned to one member of the home and to create a greeting card to deliver on a visit during the late fall. I made sure that my great-grandmother would be receiving my card during our class visit. My great-grandmother had been placed in assisted living because she was suffering from severe Alzheimer’s disease. Periodically, I would ride along with my grandfather to visit her. At a very young age I saw her on very good days and very bad days. I remember how scared and horrible I felt when she did not recognize my grandpa. During my excited preparation for the delivery of my greeting card to my great-grandmother, my mother cautioned me that she may not recognize me on the day of our class visit. I shrugged it off and had a strong feeling that she would be having a good day when I would stop by. On the day of our class visit the senior home I could hardly contain my excitement. I was the only one in my class who had a relative staying here and I of course let everyone know that I was going to see my great-grandmother that day. To help out, my grandpa let me tag along on a visit a few weeks before to potentially help increase the odds that she would recognize me. He never told me that, but I knew what that visit was all about.  When I arrived I spoke softly and clearly. I introduced myself and handed her my card.  After she read the card she thanked me.  I wanted to make sure she recognized me. I reintroduced myself by stating my name and that I was her great-grandson.  She replied, “Oh yes, you are Rhoda’s son.” I was elated! I couldn’t believe that she remembered!  Looking back to that visit I believe I had five good minutes with her. It was just long enough to feel confident to safely give her a hug and a kiss and introduce her to my best friends. Quickly, I would transform from family member to complete stranger. By the end of the visit she had no idea who I was. As I walked back to the school bus I did everything that I could to hold back my tears. I grew up a lot that day. Even as painful as that experience was I learned a lot from what memory can and cannot be.  Over my lifetime I have developed an innate ability to remember. I had a best friend in high school that told everyone that he didn’t need to remember anything because I would remember it for him. In high school I was a walking Rolodex, telephone book, sports encyclopedia and jukebox. I could tell you when, where, stats, lyrics and just about anyone’s telephone number (pre-cell phones, folks). I suffered several head injuries before I was the age of eighteen. With all of today’s neurological studies on the brain, most notably in contact sports, I would have likely been disallowed from playing high school football if these findings had existed then. One of the worst concussions I ever experienced was in 4th grade where a sled riding accident left me not knowing who I was for nearly 48 hours.  Several other minor sports related concussions would follow. Around the time I was a sophomore in college I started to notice that I was losing my short term memory at a very rapid rate. I was not sharp and I grew increasingly frustrated that I had become extremely forgetful virtually overnight. I feared that the consequences of too many concussions had caught up with me. I was scared to see a doctor, flashing back to thoughts of my great-grandmother and what a life without memory was like. I decided that rather than seek medical attention that I would try to retrain myself to remember day-to-day activities. I bought myself a bunch of post-its and began to write down various to-do lists for tasks that I had coming up that day, week, the following week and the month. Each day I reviewed the post-its (some days several times) and soon I retrained myself to remember short-term. Still do this day I have to write things down. I am convinced it is not because I need it, but simply good sound organizational practice to be thorough and reliable. My biggest fear is that at some point in my life I will have absorbed so much meaningless information that it will begin prioritizing space in my brain; much like a computer hard drive or the dwindling memory of a base model iPhone. What to store and what to delete? Do I/Will I have control over that? In education, we teach students that the brain is a muscle that must be exercised or it will atrophy. If you do not use your brain power you will lose it. How can you possibly exercise the brain enough to possibly maintain all that it possesses? My brother gifted all of the groomsmen in his wedding with a leather bound journal with each member’s name engraved on the clasp. He requested that we use the journal to record out greatest life experiences. Although I do not write in the journal daily, I have committed myself to recording my greatest experiences in order to answer the question I posed at the end of the previous paragraph. Hopefully this will allow me to take back my cognitive capacity, rid myself of the cobwebs and render myself less of a victim when it comes to degenerating memories. It is my hope that I can always remember the lessons I learned over lunch with my grandparents so that I can share them with my own grandchildren. Even the lesson on how to shoot the paper off of the straw while sitting at the table (thanks, GMa!). After all, the mind is a terrible thing to waste. “Nothing is a waste that makes a memory”]]></description>
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		<title>9/11 Never Forget</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/911-never-forget/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/911-never-forget/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 15 Sep 2015 09:30:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Mandi Johnson]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[9/11]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[America]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Fear]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[patriotism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[travel]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8821</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[We should never forget September 11, 2001.  However, we do need to move on, to continue living our lives without fear. I was in the 11th grade sitting in English class.  I remember one slightly eccentric teacher running down the hallway between classes that morning screaming, “We are under attack &#8211; We are at war.&#8221;  Life would never be the same. I presume, to avoid panic on that pristine September day, the school turned off the televisions.  We were stuck to wonder.  It was a world before smart phones.  We scoured the internet during our French class for bits of information, even though the teachers had been instructed to turn them off. September 11, 2001 changed our lives forever.  But, to not let the terrorists win, we must carry on without fear. Shortly after the attack I was selected as a participant for Presidential Classroom.  This week long educational experience  in Washington D.C.  was late winter and just a few short months later.  It was my first time flying alone.  The Reagan Airport had been open about  a month.  I was seventeen. There was a large gaping hole in the pentagon, I flew right over it, saying a prayer for those that were lost. We overcome by living our lives as close to what they were before the attacks as possible.  To continue to travel, fly, go to work. My first job out of college was a Flight Attendant.  Live without fear. We should never forget the lives lost, never forget the tragedy, but also, we should never let them take our freedom.]]></description>
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		<title>L: Longing &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/l-longing-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/l-longing-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 14 Sep 2015 13:59:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Appreciation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Destinations]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friends]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Friendships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Grandparents]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Homegrown]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Long Lived]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Longing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[respect]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Rural Living]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Small Town]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Temporary]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[The Beautiful Struggle]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Town]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8757</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  This will only take a second. Usually when you long for something the feeling is often short-lived and temporary. What happens when the longing feeling has been lingering for a long, long time? I’ve been longing for: &#8230;a place where mulch beds outnumber pine straw landscaping &#8230;where the most popular cars are not Mercedes, BMW, and Lexus but instead Ford, Chevy, and Barely Runs &#8230;places where I don’t primarily need GPS to help me find a destination &#8230;a place where 12 mile drives aren’t 45-60 minute commutes &#8230;a family get together not requiring 6-months of planning &#8230;Grandparent visits &#8230;small town diners with placemats that advertise businesses I recognize &#8230;a profession in which you are respected and appreciated &#8230;an occupation with clear, reachable directives not moving targets unattainable of achieving &#8230;outdoor spaces for my sons to play that aren’t the size of postage stamps and restricted by uniform picket fences &#8230;“running to town” &#8230;seasons &#8230;start to finish rainy days &#8230;the smell of fresh cut hay &#8230;summer fires &#8230;autumn leaves &#8230;hoodies and sweatshirts &#8230;homegrown friendships &#8230;the beautiful struggle of rural living &#8230;Home.]]></description>
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		<title>K: Keeps &#8211; What It&#8217;s Really Like</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/k-keeps-what-its-really-like/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/k-keeps-what-its-really-like/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Sep 2015 06:58:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ABCs]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Promises]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Time]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Touch]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping up]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeping Watch]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keeps]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Keepsakes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Precious Memories]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Protect]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Safe]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Value]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8658</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like…  I think at times we all struggle with keeping in general &#8211; keeping up, keeping touch, keeping time, keeping watch, keeping promises. Like a safe, we keep with us what we value and hold dear. Judgment plays a huge role in deciding what we keep and what we discard if presented with too many choices. I was once told that if it no longer serves you must stop holding on and let it go. It takes a strong sense of courage to be faced with a decision to release something that you once valued to potentially replace it with a more purposeful keepsake. Keepsakes are meant to hold pieces of precious memories. Time pieces are meant to keep time. Time is kept to place a &#8220;born on date&#8221; on memories in order to ensure proper freshness for consumption. Some of the items that we keep have no expiration date. I am finding that as I get older I am much more likely to compromise on the release of material items if in return my mind would have the capacity to keep and store more memories. Keeping up with the Jones&#8217; falls into similar categories as the poor company you keep and not being your brother&#8217;s keeper. Innocence makes us believe that bad things may never happen to us. When major adversity strikes it is difficult to keep the faith. In these situations it is important to keep your head, sanity and enthusiasm in proper working order. I think the line is, &#8220;KEEP SWIMMING!&#8221;, right? It is also important to protect what we value most and keep it safe. Besides your family, your dreams should be kept with great regard. Dreams should be protected with the watchful skill of a goalkeeper, maintained with the meticulous eye of a greens keeper and held close like a short-yardage quarterback keeper. Keep them as fresh as possible like a Tupperware food keeper, but readily and easily accessible like the Velcro on a Trapper Keeper…even if they are wild and possibly in need of being tamed by a zoo keeper. As corny as my analogies are and all joking aside, the things we keep are serious business. Life is all about playing for keeps. Casey Kasem had it figured out when he said, &#8220;Keep your feet in the ground and keep reaching for the stars!&#8221; By accident or total coincidence, Kasem also begins with the letter &#8216;K&#8217;. This post just keeps getting better and better all the time! &#160;]]></description>
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		<title>Too Many Choices!</title>
		<link>http://www.wirlproject.com/too-many-choices/</link>
		<comments>http://www.wirlproject.com/too-many-choices/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 26 Aug 2015 07:30:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Brody]]></dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Entertainment]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Food/Drink]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Home/Garden]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Life/Leisure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Love/Relationships]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Style/Beauty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Technology/Web]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Work/Money]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Choices Entitlements Decision Making Distractions Freestyle On Demand This and That This and This Too Many Choices]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.wirlproject.com/?p=8359</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Over the last year my wife and I have attempted to emphasize the importance of making good choices with our toddler. It has been an extremely daunting task to not only teach him what a choice is, but help guide him toward decision making that we find acceptable. We both feel that the quickest way for him to learn is to have a high level of autonomy over minor situations so that he can practice the skill while we still make most of the major decisions for him controlling and modeling proper behavior. So far we have seen vast improvements in his understanding of choice, but like most children this age it is a test of wills between parent and child. So much of our lives are driven by choices. We make thousands of them each day. Even as an adult I find myself struggling with the ability to choose especially in a culture that now seems to demand entitlements of individualization and variety. Our culture seems to have shifted from a nation who wants this and that to a nation of this and this. Personalizing options are meant to help one feel in control, satisfied and fulfilled. These popular trends produce high pressure to keep up with demand.  How then, can I find the freedom to choose to feel so restricting? I get a restrictive, suffocating feeling when I am at Zaxby’s in front of a Coke Freestyle machine. If you have never seen one of these it is a touch-screen automated fountain machine that boasts over 100+ Coca-Cola brand selections. During each visit, in what feels like an excruciating eternity, I will eventually settle on a drink selection after flipping through the entire catalogue several times. This greatly frustrates my accompanying dining party as I am either made fun relentlessly of or told to get out of the way. This may seem funny to you that such an inconsequential decision would be so difficult to make, but for me taking a leap toward the perfect selection from a huge assortment is virtually paralyzing. Too many choices are distracting. Our good choices routine with our son backfires when we allow him to choose an episode of one of his favorite television shows to watch before going to bed. In addition to his decision making development he has also (finally) developed a diverse TV palette beyond Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. He has learned the evil powers of the TV remote and the on-demand capabilities of the DVR. His frequent back-and-forth waffling on what to watch often leads to an unwanted outburst that inevitably delays bedtime. Much like his father in standing front of the Coke Freestyle machine, my son is distracted by too many choices. Some of the biggest fights between my wife and I have not been over money, household chores or child care responsibilities. A number of these conflicts have been over where to go to dinner/get take-out or what movie we want to watch on Netflix. It’s not every day we eat out or take a few hours to relax in front of the TV. We both try way too hard to choose the perfect selection to make it worth our while. Flipping through local restaurants on Google Maps and movies on the Netflix genre guide are eerily similar to the previous dilemma I described with the Zaxby’s Coke machine. Too many choices! I remember as a kid before satellite television we got the four local major network stations (six channels on a clear weather day!) from our roof-top antenna. Show listings were published in a paper TV Guide that came out weekly in the Sunday newspaper. If you missed an episode of your favorite sitcom you would not be able to watch it until it re-aired during the show’s off-season.  In addition, growing up in a small town we had very little selection when it came to dining out. The nearest trendy eateries were a 30 mile drive away. My father was never convinced any meal was worth that far of a drive. Back then food and entertainment selections were made easy due to a lack of choice. Ahh, the good old days. The next time you become frozen in the cereal aisle at the supermarket or break into a cold sweat when flipping through your satellite radio just remember that large selections are intended to make choices easier, not harder. I will try to keep telling myself that the next time I am in front of the Coke Freestyle machine…and I will continue to stand their motionless.]]></description>
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