Boring Meetings: A Suvival Guide

The strategic planning session. The all-day workshop. The never-ending meeting. The seminar. We've all been there.

I'd like to share a method I use to get through those situations while keeping my brain alive. I like to call it "Alphabet Roundup." But you can call it whatever you like; maybe you should brainstorm names during your next long meeting. You can write them down while pretending to take important notes.

Playing Alphabet Roundup is really simple. All you need is a basic knowledge of the alphabet. Start the game by listening for the speaker to say a word that begins with the letter a. After you've heard one, start listening for a word that begins with b. And so on and so forth, all through the alphabet. When you've finished with the letter z, you get to check the clock. That's your prize.

If you've got limited time, consider adapting Alphabet Roundup (also consider yourself very lucky). You might make certain letters "wildcards," which can be found any time, not just in their sequential places in the alphabet. For example, if you decide that v is a wildcard, and you hear the word "voracious," go ahead and count it even if you're really only through h. I like to make a little box on my agenda with my wildcard letters, so I can cross them off as I hear them.

Of course, there are many other adaptations that can be made to Alphabet Roundup; why not listen for words that end with each letter? Why not start with a list of all 26 letters and cross each one off as you hear it, regardless of the order (that goes really fast, and I only recommend it in a big group because it's pretty obvious)? The possibilities are endless.

Cake Confidential

Have I ever told you how much I love cake? I adore all sweets, actually, but cake and I have always shared a special bond. My mom likes to tell a story about my two-year-old self sneaking into the house during a 4th of July party, tearing the plastic marching band off the top of the cake, and digging into the fluffy white frosting. I'm still willing to go to great lengths for a slice...

Karl and I got married in late September of 2008. On Labor Day weekend that year, we went boating with some friends on the Wisconsin River. We stopped for dinner at a restaurant/bar/supper club overlooking the river, where there happened to be a wedding reception happening. If you're anything like me, the word "wedding" immediately brings to mind a much more important word: "cake."

Naturally, I wandered in to the reception area just to look around-- you know, to get some ideas for our wedding (which, three weeks away, was fully planned, mind you). I made a hopefully subtle beeline for the dessert table. The groom was standing nearby. I congratulated him and explained that my fiancee and I were planning our wedding and trying to decide on a wedding cake vendor. Where had they gotten their cake, I asked, and were they happy with it? I totally wasn't listening as the groom told me which bakery had supplied their cake. Price, delivery, flavor options, blah, blah, blah... My ears perked up, though, when he said the magic words and my plan fell neatly into place: "You should try a piece!" Oh, no, I couldn't. It's your wedding. "No, really, you should try some. Here, let me cut you a piece." Well, okay, if you insist (sneakily grinning inside as he lopped off a humongous slice). Mmmmmm....

And that, my friends, is how it's done. See if you can score some free cake for yourself this weekend!

Pa rum pa pum pum

You might not know that I love drummerboy quarters. Every time I find one, I put it in a special box. Well, the box itself isn't that special; it's an old shoebox-sized plastic number that I probably got to hold toiletries in college or something. But now it collects my drummerboy quarters. I don't know why I like them; I just do. I don't name them or set up dioramas with them or stare at them for hours or have conversations with them. I just like to keep them when I find them, that's all. A few months back, something mildly tragic happened that reminded me to always check every single quarter (because clearly I'm not obsessive enough). I was at the car wash, and I had paid in cash. The cashier handed me my change in bills and coins, and I automatically put all of the coins into the tip box. The clear acrylic tip box. Of course I looked in too late and saw that one of the coins I had deposited was a drummerboy quarter! Lesson learned.

Trudging through Grudges

At yoga recently, my teacher said something that really stuck with me. She said, "Breathe out all of your harsh feelings and grudges... I don't know exactly what a grudge is, but it sounds painful. It sounds like something I don't want in my body." And I thought, She is speaking straight to me.


We celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary a month ago, and I have an ugly secret to share. It was a lovely anniversary, and I adore thinking about our special day, but you would not believe how many of the memories are grudge-ridden. Here are a couple of prime examples (don't judge me; I'm usually not this petty):

• Some friends of mine got married five years ago. For their wedding, I skipped my grad school graduation and rode the Greyhound for 17 hours each way. Not only did they not come to my wedding; they didn't even send a card.

• We got married in a barn, and someone, who shall remain nameless, asked me what she should wear. I suggested she wear a dress that she had worn to a wedding two years prior. "Oh, no," she said, "I couldn't. That's a nice dress. It's a really, really nice dress."

Those seventeen-hours-on-a-bus-while-my-Masters-degree-graduation-goes-on-without-me people weren't the only ones not to send a card. I could probably rattle off a list right now, off the top of my head, of people who didn't take four minutes to write a card and stick it in the mail. I know folks are busy, but come on. A scribbled message on the back of an old grocery receipt would have even done the job.

But I'm not looking for sympathy. Our wedding was TWO YEARS ago. My yoga teacher is exactly right... grudges are painful, and I don't want them in my body. It's not nice that someone didn't send a card, and yes, a lot of hurtful (or potentially hurtful- I don't have to bruise so darn easily) things were said, done, or not done. But a lot of really wonderful, generous surprises were poured out on us, too. Really lots and lots. Distances were traveled; special gifts just for us were thought up, put together, wrapped up, and delivered; we were blessed with so much laughter and love.

So... uh... how do I get rid of the grudges? Better go to yoga again, pronto, and do some more breathing.

p.s. Andrea D., if you are reading this, I'm really sorry that all I sent you for your wedding was a Baby-Sitters Club book! In my defense, I didn't know at the time how important wedding presents are, and I had about 75 cents to my name, but I could have at least come up with an old grocery receipt... I hope I havent caused you a grudge all these years!

I just saved $150.

Monday is our second wedding anniversary, and to celebrate, we decided to go out for a really nice dinner on Sunday. I called the restaurant today to ask a couple of questions, and the woman on the phone was rude. So we're not going there! I just decided, two minutes ago, after I got off the phone with Rude Lady. Goodbye, Rudy. Hello, beloved standby.



Mmmm... I love Sala Thai. And I love not giving $150 to a rude lady. It's really too bad, because I've been to the rude lady's restaurant before, and it is fantastic. But at this moment, I'm looking for a nice mix of fantasticity and manners, and I know we can find that at Sala Thai.