For the Love of a Scrunchie

Scrunchie. Fabric covered rubber band. Vintage hair accessory. Friend of the weary and downtrodden, color-treated and conditioned Gen X tresses.

scrunchie leopard print 100 percent silk
scrunchie fierce

“Do they still make those?” said my stylist when I mentioned tying my hair up in a scrunchie for yoga class.

“I don’t know if they still make them,” I said. “But they’re magical.”

My hair stylist is in her twenties. She doesn’t know the power of the scrunchie.

In my hair history, I’ve owned sponge rollers, velcro rollers, hot rollers, steam rollers, curling irons, crimping irons, banana clips, bobby pins, barrettes, crab claws, and an ocean of ponytail elastics. I have not owned a Flowbee, and I’m resisting the urge to buy a flat iron, though my BFF swears by hers. Her flat iron, that is. Not her Flowbee.

scrunchie close up
pair of scrunchies

The scrunchie has staying power.

I’ve saved two from the 90s. I keep them safely stashed behind my collection of plastic, hotel shower caps. Secret weapons of my hair care arsenal.

Scrunchie A is a cotton calico gem from 1992. It boasts a saturated red that glows like rubies. Bought it on clearance at the Gap for $3. (I remember all my significant fashion purchases the way I remember song lyrics.)

I wear it to the pool. The cotton dries fast, and the bright bathing suit colors of this past summer breathed new life into the 20-year-old accessory.

Scrunchie B, my favorite, is a silk-covered leopard print. It’s fierce.

My sister gave it to me in 1995. Little did we know animal prints would become the new neutrals. Thank you, Ballard Designs. Ordinary scrunchies may fall by the wayside along the runway of trends. The leopard scrunchie goes to yoga class.

Don’t get me wrong. I still care about my appearance. I want to be presentable, respectable, approachable. You and I, we have to wear clothes in public, so we might as well put some effort into it. And we need to do something with our crowning glory while it clings to our heads.

But I find, as the decades roll by, there are compromises to be made on the personal catwalk of life. 

good-bye glamour
good-bye glamour

Comfortable shoes instead of stilettos, so the plantar fasciitis doesn’t anger the wicked sciatica. Untucked shirts and higher rise jeans, so I can belly laugh with abandon rather than sucking in my tummy or perpetually donning Spanx to squash the muffin top. Sweat pants worn occasionally even though fashion experts rage against them and the flip-flops.

Best regards, Vogue, GlamourElle, Stacy and Clinton. I’ll keep my scrunchies and wear them when I must. Because to me, they’re the epitome of style: comfortable, confident, magical, fierce.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30 NIV

From 1990, Groove is in the Heart by Deee Lite. Unless you’re wearing a scrunchie. In that case, groove is in the hair.

Do you own a scrunchie or other outdated fashion item you just can’t let go of yet?

 

Talking Immigration Reform

Finding (Un)Common Ground buttonHi, everybody. Just a quick note to let you know Lisen and I are discussing immigration reform and the DREAM Act on Finding (Un)Common Ground.

Lisen writes an excellent post about why reform is needed especially for people who were brought to America illegally as children.

While I can’t disagree with that, I write about how I disagree with the way President Obama sidestepped Congress and the Constitution to enforce his own directive by executive order.

What say you? Get in on the conversation and log your opinion at Finding (Un)Common Ground.

I’ll be back soon with some non-political posts.

Did you know I can hear your applause through the internet? 

It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. Psalm 118:8 ESV

You Can Dream by David Phelps. Love this.

Could It Be We Agree?

Since when did it become impossible to discuss politics and religion? Why is it so difficult?

American flag of handprints
one nation, under God, indivisible

Last week I told you about Finding (Un)Common Ground, the new site I’ve launched with writer Lisen Stromberg. We’re publishing side-by-side opinion posts about controversial, potentially divisive topics. We’re not experts; we’re simply moms who would really like to be able to discuss issues with civility. We believe others would like to be able to do the same.

Lisen’s the West Coast liberal and I’m the Southern/Heartland conservative. As expected, we did not agree in our first round of posts last week concerning the terrorist attacks against our embassies in Libya, Egypt, and Yemen.

This week, however, in our second round of posts, something strange happened.

We agreed. Well, sort of.

We weren’t in perfect sync with each other on the responses from Google and the Obama administration regarding the film Innocence of Muslims. That showed up in the comments. But we did agree on one thing: the freedom of speech is a right that must be upheld.

Wow.

blue field of handprints on flag
with liberty and justice for all

I’d say a liberal and a conservative agreeing on the importance of the First Amendment is reason for hope in this brutal election season. It may be rare that Lisen and I agree on anything, but what a great place to begin.

I promise not to blog here every time we post something there. I’ll try to let you know when new posts are up so you can click over to read them if you want.

Yesterday Lisen and I were thrilled that BlogHer syndicated our story. Read both sides in An Uncommon Meeting Sparks Civil Dialogue, Launches New Site.

Is civil dialogue possible? We’re game give it a fighting chance.

Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. Hebrews 12:14 NIV

Keep Your Eyes Open, my love. By NeedtoBreathe. I know the fight is on the way when the sides have been chosen. 

Please visit the BlogHer post, share or comment if you like our concept, and have an uncommonly good weekend!

No One Told the Grasshopper

True story.

Last Friday evening, we were on our way to dinner when a grasshopper hitched a ride on our front windshield. He wasn’t smashed to oblivion like other, lesser bugs. He landed alive and held on.

He surfed through traffic and stoplights with us. As we turned onto the highway entrance ramp, I expected him to jump and fly to the grassy prairie. Instead he remained planted on the glass.

grasshopper on windshield
our brave passenger

His olive-colored, stick legs stood sturdy as we accelerated to 70 mph. He was motionless, except for his bright yellow antennae waving in the wind.

How strange, how remarkable he would not be blown away.

We exited the highway. The grasshopper rode through another intersection or two with us. Then he sprang into the sky and disappeared to wherever grasshoppers go.

No one told the grasshopper he couldn’t ride on the windshield. No one told him our car is thousands of times larger than he is.

Grasshoppers are referred to in the Bible in two very different ways: as small, squashable creatures and as powerfully destructive creatures. The grasshopper on our windshield was a little of both. Tiny and fearless.

He seemed at ease with his station in life. Apparently, no one told the grasshopper otherwise.

He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in. Isaiah 40:22 NIV

Room at the Top by Adam Ant. The ants know; the ants are industrious.

What extraordinary things have you done when no one told you couldn’t or you didn’t know different?

An Uncommon Meeting

Syndicated on BlogHer.com

This post was syndicated by BlogHer on 9.20.12 and featured in the BlogHer Conferences Newsletter on 10.3.12.

I wanted to eat my breakfast.

welcome to blogher '12
welcome to BlogHer ’12

“Okay, everyone,” said Lisa Stone from the stage. “It’s time for Speed Dating.”

Imagine a hotel convention room filled with thousands of women. Not just ordinary women. Blogger women.

That morning, I was late to the BlogHer conference welcome breakfast hosted by co-founders Elisa Camahort Page and Lisa Stone. I was hungry. I wanted to eat.

“Form two big circles around the outside of the room.”

“I hate ice breakers,” I said to myself as I inhaled scrambled eggs. “I hate speed dating.”

“There’s room over on this side. Let’s go, ladies!”

Then it occurred to me. “You bought the ticket. Now get up and speed date!”

I joined the outside circle that faced the inside circle. For the next 20 minutes, the circles moved around each other. And I met fabulous bloggers.

Bloggers who blog about food and family and carpet and cities. Bloggers with beautiful business cards and creative names. Bonbon Break. The Downtown Project. The Succulent Wife.

Our hostesses issued the one-minute warning, and my mind returned to the bacon abandoned on my plate. “Hang on, breakfast. I’m coming!”

I had time to meet one, last blogger.

A gorgeous, vibrant blonde from California introduced herself to me. “Hi, I’m Lisen Stromberg,” she said. “You look so familiar. Where have I seen you?”

“Hi, I’m Aimee Whetstine,” I said and shook hands with her. “I was syndicated on BlogHer this week. You may have seen my face there.”

“What was the article?” said Lisen.

I braced myself. “I wrote the Chick-fil-A post.”

lisen and aimee
Lisen and Aimee

Have you ever witnessed a cat and a dog face off for the first time?

We tried to make small talk about our blogs, but we kept coming back to the issue at hand. I couldn’t understand why civil unions weren’t enough. Lisen couldn’t understand why my church didn’t approve of gay marriage. Back and forth it went. Each of us holding our positions with dignity and without screaming.

There was another blogger waiting to speak to Lisen. As I said goodbye and turned to go, I looked down at Lisen’s business card in my hand.

The moment of truth fell like the sunlight through clouds.

“You know,” I said as I turned back to face her. “We should do something together. We should write about this.”

Lisen’s eyes met mine. Was she thinking the same thing?

“Yes, we should,” she said.

“It would be good for my readers,” I said, “and for yours too, I think.”

“Yes, it would.” she said.

Today Lisen and I set out to create a forum of civil dialogue about the issues that matter. We’re launching a neutral, shared website called Finding (Un)Common Ground.

We’ll regularly post our views on hot topics and invite you to dialogue and share your thoughts. All comments and perspectives are welcomed, provided they are expressed within the bounds of civility.

Today we’re posting about the events this week in Libya and Egypt. I hope you’ll visit, share, and comment.

Civil discourse must be achieved if we are to find understanding and solutions within the issues that divide us and our country.

Please join the dialogue at Finding (Un)Common Ground.

“Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord:
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
they shall become like wool.” Isaiah 1:18 ESV

Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. You say tom-ay-to, I say tom-ah-to…

You are invited to read
Finding (Un)Common Ground.
Follow us on Twitter @uncommonground1
and 
on Facebook, too!

Ghost in the Machine

This past Monday was the first time I’ve cried over technology.

stone woman's face KC Plaza
stone woman’s face, Kansas City Plaza

Don’t know exactly what happened, but for a short time my blog site went down, refusing to show anything but post titles. If it hadn’t been for Bluehost, it might still be down.

Nick the Bluehost tech guy and I ruled out the GoDaddy hacking debacle. We suspect it had to do with a WordPress update. But who really knows what technology is capable of these days? The more we worked on it, the worse it got.

Alas, I’m a ghost in the machine.

If you’re of a certain generation, you’ll remember The Police album Ghost in the Machine. If you’re younger, I’m sorry you missed it. Just kidding. The Police were Sting’s former band.

My new best friend Nick restored my blog from a copy saved the day before. All I lost was what I’d written Monday and, for a few tense moments, my sanity.

What does that mean, ghost in the machine?

Are we merely spirits outfitted in flesh and wandering haphazardly through the mechanics of this world? In my heart I know despite what Madonna says, the material world doesn’t matter. It’s going, going, and someday will be gone.

But I live in the here and now. I breathe the physical. As much as my soul is me, so is my body me. And so is my work, my family, my home, and country, all part of the material world I inhabit. The time and space. The machine.

When the machine’s broken, it’s desperately hard to remember the machine isn’t all there is.

Times Square blur
Times Square blur

What poor creatures we are, living with one foot in the decaying world of trolls, cancer, and terrorism, while the other stretches for a world yet to be made new.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 NIV

You knew this was coming: Spirits in the Material World by The Police.

Ever feel like a ghost in the machine?

 

Last Stop

New York subways don’t faze me after living in Chicago. Alone I took the train to catch up with my friends.

911 wtc memorial subway sign
to world trade center all times

They’d gone ahead to shop in SoHo. First time I’d been in New York since 1993. Or was it 1994? Didn’t matter. I was on the train now, rolling toward our rendezvous point. The destination we promised not to miss while in the city.

The digital map counted down the stops. Spring Street. Canal Street.

wtc nyc last stop
last stop

“Is this the new station?” a fellow tourist said as we arrived. “This must be the new station.”

“No,” said a New Yorker in earshot of the traveler. “This is the same station. The one under the buildings.”

So clean and empty now. Images of firemen covered in dust and wading through rubble flashed in my memory.

911 wtc subway station
world trade center subway station

We’re in line,” a text beeped through from my friends. “Meet us at the entrance. We have your ticket.”

The street narrowed as I made my way.

911 memorial crowd walking to entrance
walking to entrance

My friends and I passed through security, stood in line with crowds of people, and finally stepped inside the fences.

In Washington, D.C., the 9/11 Memorial at the Pentagon is quiet like a graveyard. You can walk through it, touch the monuments, gaze directly into the pools.

In New York, the 9/11 Memorial at the World Trade Center is a city park, flat concrete with trees placed about. A bustling stage set for the main event.

We were drawn to the sides of a massive square basin.

911 wtc memorial water falling
water fall

People of every size, shape, and color leaned close to the stone edges engraved with the names of the deceased. We peered over to see down into the water.

Thousands of gallons rushed along a run under the stone edges with the names. We could touch that stream. Visitors brought their wet fingers up to the names they knew. Like a drink in the sweltering sun.

roses at 911 memorial nyc
roses

The water from the run rested on a ledge then fell, plummeting straight down to another greater plateau. From there it was pulled across until it dropped out of sight into a deep shaft at the center of the fountain.

911 wtc memorial full shot
9/11 world trade center memorial fountain

I turned to leave. “There are two of them?”

We walked across the concrete plaza to another fountain identical to the first, except engraved with different names. Nearly an acre each in size, these fountains are the largest manmade waterfalls in North America. They trace the footprints of the two World Trade Center towers.

I tried to imagine people running across the courtyard. Tried to see bits of shredded office paper midair.

A museum will open at the site to join the fountains. Reconstruction of new buildings has begun. We’re years away from that day, but we remember.

911 wtc memorial sign
9/11 memorial

On location in New York, second by second, the water reenacts the motion of the debris, buildings, and people. 

It rushes and swirls and falls and is gone.

For He knows how weak we are;
He remembers we are only dust.
Our days on earth are like grass;
like wildflowers, we bloom and die.
The wind blows, and we are gone—
as though we had never been here. Psalm 103:14-16 NLT

Other everyday epistle posts Remembering 9/11:
Somewhere in Pennsylvania,
The Angry American, and
If You See Something.

What Organic Food Is and Is Not

There’s a lot of confusion about organic food.

USDA-Organic Seal
USDA Organic Seal

As a mom and consumer, I know organic food garners a premium price. But I like to have choices. My family buys and eats food that looks and tastes good and that we can afford. That includes conventional, organic, biotech, heirloom, domestic, international, and farmer’s market fare.

So how is organic food defined? The USDA sets the standards for foods labeled USDA Organic through the National Organic Program, established by the Organic Foods Production Act of 1990.

Food that meets these standards can display the USDA Organic seal:

Organic crops. The USDA organic seal verifies that irradiation, sewage sludge, synthetic fertilizers, prohibited pesticides, and genetically modified organisms were not used.
 
Organic livestock. The USDA organic seal verifies that producers met animal health and welfare standards, did not use antibiotics or growth hormones, used 100% organic feed, and provided animals with access to the outdoors.
 
Organic multi-ingredient foods. The USDA organic seal verifies that the product has 95% or more certified organic content. If the label claims that it was made with specified organic ingredients, you can be sure that those specific ingredients are certified organic.
 

Seems straightforward. Why does confusion about organic food persist?

That brings us to what organic food is not:

bell peppers
peppers

Organic food is not more nutritious. This week’s Stanford University study concluded organic food is not healthier than conventional food. This isn’t really new information. Last year Scientific American reported 50 years of research comparisons have shown there are no health differences between organic and conventional food.

Organic food is not pesticide-free. Organic farms may use approved pesticides and fungicides derived from natural sources rather than synthetics to protect crops from insects and disease. Scientific American reported organic pesticides may be worse than those used in conventional farming. Organic food also tends to have more pathogens like E. coli and Salmonella than conventional food. It’s important to note the Stanford researchers found the pesticide levels of all food generally fell within the allowable safety limits.

Organic food is not better for the environment. According to Scientific American, organic farming requires more land to produce the same amount of food as conventional farming. If we were to switch to 100 percent organic farming today, we would have to clear another 20 percent of the ice-free land on earth to make up the difference in production.

Organic food is not necessarily local or fair-trade. Go Green Online reported the average organic food travels 1,200 miles before it reaches the consumer. And organic food may still be produced using illegal migrant workers receiving unfair wages in harsh working conditions.

My family buys and eats many different kinds of food; I’m not advocating one type of food over another. What I’m advocating is education and choice.

American blueberries
blueberries

We do ourselves a disservice when we pit organic against conventional or biotech, local against domestic or imported. There’s room at the table for all kinds of food to meet many different needs.

There’s freedom for us to learn and decide for ourselves what to eat.

You cause grass to grow for the livestock
and plants for people to use.
You allow them to produce food from the earth. Psalm 104:14 NLT

Blueberry Hill by Fats Domino. Wow.

 Do you buy organic, conventional, or both? Why?

FDR’s House

The Democratic National Convention is in full swing, so we turn to the words of a famous Democrat, set in stone at his D.C. memorial.

Franklin D. Roosevelt's House

It’s easy to forget our elected officials work for us. We hold them in high esteem, and rightly so. But this is a republic, not a monarchy or a dictatorship. We fought a war to establish that and several more wars to keep it that way.

Ours is a government for the people, by the people. And the President—Republican, Democrat, or other—lives in our house.

FDR quote from memorial
as seen at FDR Memorial in Washington, D.C.

Why did Franklin Roosevelt say this? How do we preserve or ignore this idea today?

It appears I’m not the only one thinking about Roosevelt this week. Catch one of my favorite columnists Ross Douthat’s NYT post Franklin Delano Romney.

wednesday words to remember