Tag Archives: life

Speaking Out: Are You Prepared to Pay the Price? # NaBloPoMo

Sunday, the 17th was my last NaBloMoPo post and I have to confess after writing that post my week turned to crap. So there is no way I am going to succeed at this challenge, but I’m going to at least try to post everyday to the end of the November to make up for last week.

Over the weekend a wonderful article appeared from Jacinta Tynan, a local news reader and newspaper columnist. The article talked about the importance to Jacinta of speaking out, or in her words “speaking her truth” and the price she has paid for doing so. Jacinta explains:

My intolerance for insincerity, inequity and just plain bitchiness is palpable. I try to let it slide, making my dissent clear by keeping my distance. But that’s followed by uneasiness. By my silence, have I not contributed to the problem?

and:

I have learnt the hard way that there are consequences to being candid. Although there is never any malice on my part, I have copped it for speaking my mind.

You can read the article here.

Dear Jacinta, I know exactly how you feel.

It’s not that I think the world is entitled to my opinion. In fact, it is no hardship to keep it to myself. Rather, it is the need to prevent further bitchiness or injustice from occurring. I just don’t understand the need for either one. There are better ways to deal with disagreement, frustration and issues in general and we should be doing what we can to build bridges rather than blowing them up.

turtleThere is no doubt though that this is the harder road to hoe. And not only is it harder, it is also far more sparsely travelled. And like Jacinta, more often than not I don’t see the broadside coming, simply because I don’t act that way. So it does cost to speak my truth, and I have the scars to prove it. I acknowledge that my truth is not absolute and that everyone has their own truth, but for resolution or advancement someone, somewhere has to start with speaking their truth.

I have noticed that there are more than a few people who lie in wait to pounce on those that speak their truth. They don’t actually speak their own, but rather just spend their life countering or commenting on other people’s truths and in this way they let others, like me, step on the land mines. But I have never been a follower and I am not about to start now.

So for all of you who speak your truth, I salute you. Whilst it comes at a cost, the personal cost of not doing so is much higher. So like Jacinta, I have to conclude that:

As wounded as I’ve been by the occasional fallout from my frankness, I would like to keep being that person. One who speaks her mind. It might be risky – not everyone will love you – but it’s the only way to generate a meaningful connection, something not on offer if it’s all smiles and watching your words. To speak from the heart with empathy and compassion is a contribution, however small, to a more meaningful life. You don’t leave much of a legacy by keeping mum.

Wisdom is teaching me compassion and empathy and the journey will only ever be complete when that final land mine decides to explode.

Is this something you grapple with also?

10 TV/Movie Techniques I Could Use In Real Life #NaBloPoMo

Ever wondered what it would be like to have special effects, close-ups and other show production techniques at your disposal in real life? Here’s what I’ve thought about:

  1. Fade to Black – definitely useful for when that accidental clanger is dropped or when you need an opportunity to digest some piece of information before responding. The fade to black button would come with two options, one for freezing time so that the fade in would start at the time as the fade out was triggered or one for continuing in real time so that the fade in comes in a time suitable to you. No more awkward moments… ever.
  2. Time Lapse Photography – for all those times when patience has run out and you just want to cut to the chase of the consequences of your decisions. Time never has to wait for no man ever again.
  3. Makeup! – having a professional make up artist on standby for all those shiny moments. Excuse me please, I just need to call for some makeup. After all, confidence is everything,
  4. Mood Lighting – for when your makeup artist is otherwise disposed or you absolutely cannot handle sunlight. background music
  5. Background Music – to warn you of danger up ahead, mirror your mood or just to make sense of the world around you. The Jaws music would definitely come in handy on a trip to the beach or the Close Encounters of a Third Kind theme when meeting someone green.
  6. The Close Up – definitely useful for all those WTF moments when appropriately combined with the Fade to Black technique. Also helps when one of your children ask you something painfully obvious that you have told them multiple times before.
  7. Cut! – for all those times you wished you could do it all again or when you knew you were pushing something uphill.
  8. Preview – a private screening with a select focus group would come in very handy for all those “Does My Bum Look Big In This” moments.
  9. Wardrobe Department – possibly in lieu of number 8, although much higher maintenance than a screening room.
  10. Applause and Canned Laughter – I mean who doesn’t want these, seriously?

With just a little help we could all be the Oscar winners in our own life production.

What would you add to this list?

Relevance Deprivation, Politics and Parenting #NaBloPoMo

Australia is buzzing with the news today that former prime minister (x2), Kevin Rudd has resigned from both the parliament and politics.

Kevin Rudd, who was deposed as Prime Minister in 2010 from within his own party by Julia Gillard, recently lead the Labor party to an election loss. Essentially, Kevin Rudd was reinstalled as Labor leader and Prime Minister six weeks before the election to mitigate the election carnage that was a sure thing if the party was led by Julia Gillard.  Labor came out of the election with the inevitable loss, but surprisingly performed better than most expected in Western Sydney and Queensland. And they attribute this success to Mr Rudd’s campaigning and leadership.

Mr Rudd, had quite the reputation of being a controlling narcissistic perfectionist. Whilst he could turn on the charm when he had to, the Government was often paralysed by Mr Rudd’s inability to make a decision and his cabinet members often surprised by Mr Rudd’s failure to consult them. Certainly, Mr Rudd’s concession speech on election night looked more like a victory speech and contained not an ounce of humility. I will say no more other than I am glad he is going.

There is some great commentary coming out of the Australian press on his leaving. This morning I heard a reporter ask a Labor strategist whether Mr Rudd was going to suffer relevance deprivation now that he was stepping out of the lime light. Relevance deprivation for a reputed narcissist should truly be a fate worse than losing an election. The strategist replied that this was unlikely given that the international stage loved Mr Rudd and no doubt he would find a gig somewhere which put him back on the international stage.

I love this expression “relevance deprivation” and it is the first time I have heard it.

It got me to thinking that relevance deprivation is the perfect expression to also describe what we are going through as parents of keep calm and regain relevanceteenagers. Now that “separation” has begun, our opinions and advice no longer have the same gravitas to our teens. On many days it feels we are fighting for relevance beyond the provision of a roof, internet connection and home cooked meals. We have been voted out and our views automatically discounted simply because of where they are sourced.

In short, I very much feel relevance challenged.

I have absolutely no issue with my children seeking opinions and advice from others. In fact, I think its vital that they have trusted confidants beyond their parents they can turn to discuss things and gain different perspectives. I also don’t believe that as parents and in the absence of a critical situation we are automatically entitled to give our teens unsolicited opinions on their lives.

But it sure would be nice to be asked every now and again.

I sincerely believe that some of what we discuss does get though even though the teens would rather not show or acknowledge this. The situation will right itself eventually, provided that we retain respect for each other during the process. It is up to us parents to lead the way on this and make sure we don’t deprive ourselves of a place of relevance in our teens’ life. We need to let go and not fight it and embrace the future and our teens for all they are worth.

In other words, keep calm and regain relevance.

Do Two Screens More Than Double The Fun ? #NaBloPoMo

My life seems to be dominated by screens lately.

TV screens, computer monitors, tablets and smartphones all seem to be breeding around me. And some days I struggle to remember what the world looks like other than through a black border. Remember what it was like catching public transport and just looking out the window or reading a physical book? Me neither.

arbitrageLast month, work decided to give us dual screens in an endeavour to reduce the use of paper and in a tacit acknowledgement that one screen is just not enough these days. With the proliferation of emailed attachments and emails in general, precious productive time was lost switching between several windows, cross referencing the material in each. Now we can have two documents open at the same time,  move text between the two and compare and contrast. And I have to tell you, when I’m at work getting in on the dual screen action, I feel like I’m in arbitrage (which in fact  no way resembles my real profession). I imagine myself scanning the screens, frantically switching between them, watching the ticker tape of the NY Stock Exchange on one and the FTSE index on the other, waiting for the moment to yell “sell, sell, sell now!”. To me the two screen revolution started in the world of stock broking thanks to films like Wall Street. Of course now that the rest of the world has caught up to the dual screen phenomenon, these guys now run on four or more trying to keep pace with global markets.

Of course when I upgraded from one to two, the heat and light level emanating from my desk rose considerably turning my work space into a tropical paradise zone. I wonder whether we will stop at two or if work will attempt the triple with a back-end pike – degree of difficulty 4.5.

The dual screen fun has not stayed in the workplace. It has also crept into my home.

Naturally, the teens have for some time partaken in the world of multiples. There is no such thing as just watching a TV screen to them. They chat, play computer games, watch YouTube videos and listen to music all whilst watching TV.  It took us poor hapless parents quite some time to realise that by looking down at another screen, the Teens were not giving us a signal that it was quite permissible to change the TV channel. The slightest move in that direction would solicit a “Hey, I’m watching that”.

How exactly? Would that be through their nostrils or their toes?

So having joined the revolution, I now understand that having two screens can mean more than double the fun – particularly when the activity you are doing on the second screen is webcamconnected to the TV screen. This happens particularly when a TV show promotes a commentary through a Twitter feed or when there is a show that pretty much everyone in the country watches. We have a couple of these, the most regular one being a show called Q and A. This is a weekly current affairs show aired live by our National Broadcaster comprising a panel of four politicians, celebrities, writers, feminists, social commentators, journalists etc. The panel members are deliberately chosen for their opposing views to ensure a lively debate.  Questions are posed to the panel by audience members who are pre chosen for their questions and a selection of Tweeted comments about the content or the panel members are put to air as the show is telecast.

The comments range from the insightful to the ridiculous, but in a stroke of pure promotional genius the addition of the Twitter feed has brought with it a whole new audience. Tweeps join the conversation Tweep to Tweep or post in the hope that their tweet will make it to air.  Whatever the case, this use of the #QandA hashtag adds another dimension to the TV experience and I’m definitely a convert. The conversation is fast paced, full of banter and is not for the faint hearted.

I think I would struggle though if the TV program was a very visual one. In the case of Q and A there is not much visual action as the show centres around seated panel members and about the most exciting you will get is the odd sneer or finger point.

However, the thought of becoming a TV watching bobble head is a somewhat scary notion.

So, my question is have you ever tried multiples? And has it enhanced your pleasure?

Walking on Egg Shells Without A Safety Net #NaBloPoMo

There are days when as a parent of two teens, I can’t turn a trick.

Thankfully, today was not one of those days. We had a rather pleasant afternoon over lunch celebrating my mother’s birthday as a family. My mother has the most amazing knack of bringing out the best in my children. Mind you, they also bring out the best in her and today was no exception. I suppose she’s a safe zone for them, a whole lot of love without any need for prodding them to do stuff. Gratitude thy name is mother and I love the fact that my children have grandparents they can and do turn to.

caution teenagersThis last year or so of parenting has left me sitting here feeling very ineffective. Forget the fiscal cliff, what I’m talking about is the parental cliff and I’ve sailed right over. On my way through the free fall, I find myself latching on to any small branch of commonality with others similarly in free fall, swapping stories in an attempt to gain any insight into how to cushion this landing. Then there’s the  desperate clutching onto anything resembling something remotely positive or connective from said teens.

Every parent strives towards producing independent adults who will contribute positively to the human race. And by contribution, I don’t mean splitting the atom, creating the next big Internet phenomenon or brokering world peace. Whilst, all of these are wonderful objectives and worth striving towards, really all I want for my children is to happy and independent in whatever lawful path they choose.

And there’s the rub. To get to that point, our children have to make their own declaration of independence. And the process can be brutal. Deep down inside I applaud this final snip of the umbilical cord. In fact I would be more concerned if it didn’t come. The issue really is that whilst it’s happening, the family still has to function and we all need to still take care of business. Except that now their business is no longer my business except when I should have known it was my business from the subliminal messages that now pass for parent/teen communications.

Which is why I feel like I’m currently walking on egg shells without a safety net.

The approach to a teen requesting them to do the most basic of things involves the strategy of Sun Tzu, the diplomacy skills of Age gridHenry Kissenger and the timing skills of Warren Buffett. The slightest miscalculation can have lingering repercussions and usually someone me ends up losing a finger, or even worse, credibility. And all of this happening at a time which certainly feels like my parental report card is being handed down showing a series of Fs.

I wish I had some witty wisdom to impart on how to get through this. However, it has suddenly left me, no doubt buried under the piles of clothes in my teens’ bedrooms.

Perhaps I really should follow my teens’ advice to “Not take it so personally, mum” and instead go searching for my recently departed sense of humour. I think I’m going to need it for what’s still ahead.

 

 

 

 

Low Hanging Fruit and Horse Race Wrap Up #NaBloPoMo

Thank you for all of your wonderful tips from the Horsing Around With A Race That Stops A Nation post.

The race has now been run and the winners and losers sorted.  Champagne has been drunk and bunions have been formed. Time to put the fascinators away for another year.

After the resounding Tres Blue backing from the blogosphere, I placed a small bet on the horse. You’ll be happy to know he finished 22nd out of a field of 24. So I guess the trainer and owner are now Petit Blue.

But fear not, dear readers for that is not where the story ends.

After a more thorough analysis of the form guide and deciding that the pink stripe on the jockey’s fabric of Fiorente was more purple than pink if you squint hard enough and look at it in a tunnel, I placed a bet on the favourite.

AND SHE WON!!!

In addition to that I drew another horse which came second in the office sweep, so a somewhat profitable day all around.

low hanging fruitWhere things get a bit murky is the somewhat predictable love note I found from the local council placed under my windshield wiper when I returned to my car after my hard day at work. After running a little late for work that morning, I went through my usual routine of parking my car near the bus stop.  The bus stop happens to be near a racecourse. Parking is usually tight, but on Melbourne Cup day it is at a premium. Lucky for me I still scored a spot in the morning. The kicker is that parking in this street is two hours only for non-residents. Normally, I run the gauntlet and park there anyway as the street is seldom monitored. You can see where this is going, can’t you?

Being late it only occurred to me that my parked car was really low hanging fruit for the parking police when I was half way into work. Plump, juicy and ripe for the picking on race day. And plucked it was.

The state of the ledger is therefore:

  • total family winnings on Melbourne Cup  – $152
  • total payment to NSW State Government for the privilege of going to work – $101
  • funds available for the Curtain Raiser retirement fund – $51

My family has kindly donated their winnings to the fund which will be used to increase parking restriction awareness in its members and avoid any more contribution to the low hanging fruit crop.

There was a sad postscript to the race. One of the horses, a mare, was put down immediately after for a broken leg. The decision for the horse to be euthanized was not without controversy. To get the fully story, click here.

RIP Verena.

Of Razor Blades and Memories #NaBloPoMo

It’s funny what banality can trigger memories.

Sometime in the coming weeks, I will undertake a ritual for the very last time. A ritual that has always connected me to my father. A ritual that was ours when my father was alive.

old style rego stickerWhen I was little, I used to be dad’s 2IC when it came to replacing the annual registration sticker on the family car. This used to involve razor blades, hours of concentration, methylated spirits and cut fingers. Back in the day, the Government used to issue each vehicle with a registration sticker which showed the month of registration, the year of validity and the registration number, make and VIN details of the vehicle.  It was up to each owner to apply the sticker to the windshield of the car after removing the pervious year’s version as it was an offence to leave the old sticker visible. So dad and I would set off to laboriously scrape off the old sticker which was made of a thin plastic film and applied to the window with a coat of glue. It was a transparency sort of affair which we could only remove using methylated spirits and razor blades. And the reward for persisting? A formerly whole registration sticker now hacked to a million plastic bits all through the car.

Whatever was involved, I loved this father/daughter time. It was him and me against the world.

As I grew, Dad anointed me in charge of the great registration sticker exchange. Out would come the razor blades and the metho (Aussie vernacularnewer style rego sticker for methylated spirits) and out I’d go to the car and do the deed. By this time, adhesive technology had evolved to the point where the registration sticker was less transparency, more sticker in the traditional sense. No water was required to activate the adhesive. This made old sticker removal somewhat quicker and easier, although the razor blades still came in handy.

Every year I change my registration sticker I use the same tools, the same methodology and I think of my father.

Our Government has finally decided to come into the twenty-first century and will from this year rely on its computer records as proof of registration. There will be no more registration stickers to apply and only this last one to remove.

My kids will never experience this ritual.

I will miss it. As I miss him.

In the coming weeks, my final peel will be for you, dad.

father quote

 

 

 

Horsing Around With A Race That Stops A Nation: #NaBloPoMo

The first Tuesday in November is only days away and dear readers I need your help. I am desperately hoping your wisdom and good horse sense will see me through this important day.

fuggedaboudittNext Tuesday is Melbourne Cup day here in Australia. The Melbourne Cup is a $6million horse race which literally stops the nation. So good in fact that all of the lucky sods living in Melbourne receive a public holiday to head out to Flemington Race Course. The rest of us schlep to work and watch the event on television amist an eerie phone and keyboard silence. Which means that I have to issue this public service announcement to my international readers – if you are trying to phone Australia next Tuesday afternoon, local time between 2.45pm and 3.15pm, you might as well just stay in Brooklyn and Fuhgeddaboudit.

It is traditional for this one-day-a year punter to place a bet on the Melbourne Cup. Nothing huge, let’s just say if my horse won, the winnings would just be sufficient to purchase an upsized fast food take away meal or a taxi ride home. So fear not, I am staking the farm on your feedback.

Being a one-day-a year-punter, I’d like to say I study the form guide intently in the days leading up to the race, along with the weather conditions and race commentary. I’d like to say that, but neigh, that would be like saying that Phar Lap was just a horse. Instead I rely on a highly secret and scientific formula to choose my horses. This formula involves the intricacies of design, onomatopoeia and poetry, along with some mathematics as length and weight are taken into account. It is of course vitally important that the name of the horse one backs rolls effortlessly off the tongue and that the jockey’s stripes are beautifully colour co-ordinated. Surely, there are no other factors that determine the winner of a 3200 metre horse race?

It therefore must be patently obvious by now that I have no horse sense when it comes to picking a winner.

My general criteria for choosing the worthy candidate for my once a year flutter is a name that resonates in conjunction with a pleasing colour combination both on horse and rider and absolutely no:

PINK

 

So here is a link to the form guide for the race, dear readers and I need your help in choosing which horse is worthy of my once a year flutter.

My thoughts so far:

  • Simeon (19) and Red Cadeaux (3) are definitely out – too much pink
  • Super Cool (13), Masked Marvel (14) and Hawkspur (18) have great names – although is 13 an ominous sign?
  • I like the fact that Green Moon (2) and Sea Moon (4) might be related on the ethereal plane, given the commonalty of last name
  • Fiorente (6) and Tres Blue (23) are contenders because they are trained by one of the few female trainers in this country. Fiorente also happens to be the favourite, but has the disadvantage of carrying a pink stripe. (You see my dilemma?).
  • The best jockey stripe award goes to Dunaden (1). Love the whole polka dot effect and yellow is my favourite colour.

I therefore place my confidence in the blogosphere to assist with resolving this quandary. Please help a once-a-year punter out and place your suggestions in a comment below. All feedback will be gratefully considered and acknowledged and taken back to the stable without any expectation of those kind enough to contributed of having studied the form guide or having any horsey expertise.

And here’s a little something to get you all in the mood for the important task ahead.

champaignfascinator

 

 

CEO Is Not An Acronym For Character Entirely Optional

I read a wonderful post today by my fellow blogger, BTG, about an American football coach who suspended his entire high school football team for demonstrating poor behaviour to others and showing a lack of accountability. You can read the post here.

It started me thinking about the great character paradox. As parents we all want our children to grow up being men and women of character and our messaging of the importance of character starts at an early age. Toddlers are taught not to hit, push or scream and to share and play nice with others. Later, we teach our children to be sociable, inclusive and respectful. As their journey through life continues we reinforce the “treat others as you would be treated” rule and the value of compassion, caring and helpfulness.

And then something happens. Some where along the way, the messaging that reaches our children’s ears seems to change, at least for those children that are destined for the corporate/business world. Whether it’s from peers, educators or society the volume control on the following increases:

  • nice guys finish last
  • the squeaky wheel gets the most oil
  • who you know is more important than who you are
  • you eat what you kill
  • it’s all about the results and not the journey.

So, we teach our children to be adults of character and society and business rewards them for being anything but.

What if our business leaders were prepared to do exactly what this coach did to his team? What if our CEOs and senior managers were spilled for showing lack of character and had to earn their way back into the bonus pool?

Sadly, this Nirvana will never be reached in my life time, at least not in my industry. In business we continually confuse confidence with competence and build reward structures to promote narcissistic behaviour and traits. And what’s more, our company’s mission statements and internal policies do nothing more than add to the we value character rhetoric. Our children inevitably learn what is really rewarded and set out to play the game.

Show me a CEO who reprimands his top salesman for treating the office staff with disrespect and I will show you a man of character. Show me a managing partner who rewards and encourages team contribution over individual billings and I will show you a woman of character. I will also show you a more engaged and productive workforce.

photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

The best managers I have worked for have all been people of character. These are the few who show us that we can still achieve by treating superiors and subordinates respectfully, by valuing human beings and by being accountable for our decisions and actions. They share and play nice with others, lessons learned in kindergarten. They don’t toot their own horn or spend their time brown-nosing.

It’s not complicated. Even a toddler can understand it.

Coincidentally, I received a flyer from my old high school today advertising an alumni lunch event around the topic “What Defines Success”. The speakers are all high profile individuals either alumni or parents of present students. By assembling these speakers they have already presumed a certain defintion of success. To me its just more of the same old.

Imagine if we could spill the corporate team and only rebuild it with those who demonstrate real character?

Imagine if character was not entirely optional for our CEOs and senior managers?

Kudos to the coach for spilling his team and taking the time to teach his young charges an important lesson. It’s a huge step in the right direction.

 

Being Accosted Never Smelt So Sweet

Where does time go? I’ve turned around and its been a whole month since I last blogged.

In all fairness I have been thinking about blogs to write, flirting with poignant topics relevant to all of us battling a life crisis sandwich. For the uninitiated (and that would be most of you because I just made

picture from vaboomer.com

picture from vaboomer.com

this up), a life crisis sandwich is the meal that comes from that special place where mid-life crisis meets teenage angst. And this past month has been spent dealing with that special place.  I am not sure whether in this house, the adults have regressed or the teens have progressed, but whatever the case we are all dealing with change and questions. I think God must truly have a wicked sense of humour to coincide my offspring’s teenage years when they are questioning the meaning of life and their own existence with the very point at which their parents are doing the same. Two thumbs up there. May we all survive this test to reach what comes after the life crisis sandwich, namely the post apocalyptic fudge brownie.

At this stage, the fudge brownie remains just off into the distance. I can see it, sort of, if I squint long and hard enough and can almost smell it. Only a few more bites of the life crisis sandwich to go. My commiseration to all of you also experiencing the joys of the life crisis sandwich. I hope you now know you are not alone.

This gives you an idea of what I have been up to in the last month and why I haven’t blogged. Also good manners, because I would never blog with my mouth full, even if it’s just a no calorie life crisis sandwich.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying I really wanted my first post back to be poignant, but instead, dear readers, you are going to get this.

Over the past few months I have been accosted in my own home on several occasions. Not only me, but other members of my family have been similarly accosted. Every time it happens we reinforce that we need to be wary, keep our guard up and not let it take us by surprise. And we fail every time.

I see it perched up high on the picture rail or sometimes, just to keep us guessing, sitting on the side board. Watching, waiting, ready to pounce. Light blinking, nozzle pointed, waiting to expel its deadly gas. The minute a body comes into view, nay even before that, the minute the air pressure changes to indicate a moving being, it aims, shoots and scores. A menace to all unsuspecting wanderers, its activities are not confined to nocturnal maneuvers. Night or day, it is on high alert waiting for its next victim. With a pfft and a click you know you have been hit even before the odour reaches you. Its stated aim is to release air freshener, but this is just propaganda. Its real objective is to startle the living daylights out of you, especially at night.

This little device is the SWAT team of odour prevention. There is no shield thick enough, no night vision strong enough to defeat it. You would think it would be a fair fight, six feet of human vs one foot of motion sensor air freshener, but this fight is neither fair nor foul. In fact it takes place in a haze of Lilly of the Valley and with an innocent demeanor. Flying below the radar, it infiltrated my home without my permission, having snuck into the Itallian Stallion’s bag.

Lilly of the valleyBut I’m now onto this trespasser. After being accosted at 3.30am the other night, I have decided to deactivate the little bastard. Indeed, at 3.30am with a stuffy nose and a throbbing head to have a useless invention for the “genteel” accost me on a headache tablet mercy dash is entirely beyond the pale.  Clearly, there is much use for a fine spray of Lilly of the Valley with a head cold (not).

And lest you think my stealth skills are substandard, my strapping sons have also been accosted from on high. Like a swooping magpie protecting its nest in Spring, the air freshener rains on their heads at the first hint of movement. Perhaps this is not a bad thing with teenage boys, but I’d hate to have them invite their friends over only to be sprayed. That would make them feel real welcome.

So the time has come to reclaim my corridors. No more Lilly of the Valley, not more pfft that goes bump in the night. I’m reclaiming my right of peaceful passage without a treaty of surrender.

One last pfft for man, one giant leap for mankind (at least those in this house).

Have you ever been accosted by a device in your own home? Is there any device that you would really like to banish?

air freshener

Deactivated!