Shawn's friend Michelle successfully deciphers Sundance signage and finds the restaurants. Or is it the screening rooms?

by Shawn Underwood

Every time I run into Scott (slave driver) Schaefer he inquires after a ‘bit’ for The B-Town Blog—like I have nothing else to do. Note to self—do not post fun excursions with stupid pictures on Facebook. Scott will come calling…

Last week I was in Utah at the Sundance Film Festival. By happenstance Sundance coincided with a therapy trip for me. Seriously. I have lymphedema in my left leg and well, it’s a long story but if you are interested in medical stuff, you can follow up on my lymphedema blog. My surgery and follow up treatment are documented. But I digress.

My friend’s husband scored several premiere tickets for us. The one and only Sundance Kid made an appearance before the movie and can I just say, HANDSOME, HOT AND SUPER HOT!!! You get the picture, and oh yeah, he said something too but I was distracted. Go figure.

The first movie we ‘premiered’ in Park City, was suitably named; ‘The Queen of Versailles’. It detailed the rise and subsequent fall of the King of Time-Shares, Mr. Segal and wife, Jackie, a former over-exposed, Mrs. America. The documentary/reality show is a testament to waste and bad taste, with the opening scene documenting the construction of the ‘biggest house in America.’ It ended as a riches to rags story. Mr. Time –Share’s final line, ‘are we done here?’ Very telling. Theater gossip says Mr. Time-Share is suing Sundance and the movie producer for defamation. Coincidentally, this was also one of the first movies sold at Sundance, where none of the movies (for the first time in Sundance history) had distribution before being premiered. Mrs. Segal sat near the front of the theater. Her husband, very noticeably absent.

Luckily, the second show we had tickets for took place at the Sundance resort. Let me just say—LOVE what Bob’s done with the resort. No messing with the masses in order to board a shuttle bound for a high school posing as a movie theater. Sundance Resort houses the original ‘screening room’. We lined up for Monsieur Lazhar, a Canadian film that appears on the recently announced Oscar shortlist for foreign language films. The film has also been nominated for a Genie award—the Canadian Oscar. Based on the play Evelyne de la Cheneliere, Monsieur Lazhar walks unannounced into the principal’s office to apply for a recently vacated teachers position. He is unaware the teacher has committed suicide. The principal—nearly undone by the act of the well-liked teacher, hires him. Eventually we discover the Algerian immigrant, Mr. Lazhar is battling his personal demons yet he is able to move past this and bond with his students. There are moments of lightness in the film—a relief in an otherwise very emotional story. Well worth seeing, however we didn’t SEE anyone famous—that happened later in the evening during dinner.

Mr. Chris Rock attended Sundance to preview his new film, “2 Days in New York.” Chris and I split a steak and Caesar salad at a great steak house in Park City. Well sort of – I split a steak with my friend and Chris sat across from us. It’s like we shared a dinner together. Really.

So as I was saying, later in the evening at the Canyon Resort VIP big deal party I ran into, oh you know…Jason Ritter, Jesse Eisenberg (the Facebook dork dude), Hercules aka: Kevin Sorbo, Entertainment Tonight guy and Bare Naked Ladies lead singer guy (close second to Bob in HOT category). For some reason, I had a sudden attack of shyness and talked to ummm, nobody. Nobody famous anyway, but I got my groove on and learned a few new dance moves from the mostly twenty-something guests.

And finally, Mr. B-Town Blog (super famous) wants to know how Sundance Resort and Park City compare to B-town. Well we have the Tin Theater in Tin-sel town also know as Burien, the Hi-Liners put on a fine show, AND I hear Mr. B-Town Blog is starting his own radio station…

Twenty-five years of living in Burien gives Humorist Shawn Underwood much fodder for her writings.

All of her stories are true, or at least have a grain of truth with no added embellishments.

Or something like that.

And have you bought her new book “Mommy Are We French Yet?” yet? Buy it here.

Read more of her humor at her website here.

by Dave Markwell

I had the unfortunate experience of passing a mirror the other day. I did not look as good as I felt and it made me mad. I felt like the mirror was tricking me, because in my head, I looked much better. I had witnessed myself looking better many times. I was sure of it. What was this stupid mirror’s friggin’ problem!?! I wondered. After some soul searching and kicking my dog, I came to the conclusion that mirrors are both criminally deceptive and warmly reassuring. They are both tremendous liars and unbearably honest and it really depends on the day as to which I prefer. It depends on whether the lie or the truth makes me feel better. Usually, I suspect, it’s the lie.

This mirror passing incident inspired much thought about how we look. I mean how we REALLY look. It seems that how we look changes all the time. Some days, I look in the mirror and think, “Not too shabby, Markwell. Not too shabby.” Other days, I see a thin-haired, rather Shrek-ish creature unworthy of even a cross glance in my direction. I don’t know if my looks really change that dramatically or not. However, I do notice that sometimes other peoples’ looks do indeed change. I can look at my son one day and see a fine, handsome, and intelligent kid capable of capturing the heart of the fairest maiden in the kingdom, otherwise known as the hottest chick in class. Other days, I look at him and see a creepy, hairy, little rodent complete with the big teeth and yellow eyes and I am sad with the understanding that he is going to die lonely. I love him either way, so don’t judge me here…and it’s unlikely that he’s really that ugly anyway, even on a bad day, but here lies my question: What do we really look like? Are we our best or our worst vision of ourselves? And what determines which look we see? Many factors, I’m sure, shape our perception, but I think the most urgent one is simply how we feel. When we feel good we look good, even to ourselves. It is impossible to look bad, feeling good. I have known plenty of average, if not outright ugly, people who look beautiful, because they are happy. Likewise, I have known many of pretty, but ugly folks as well. Beauty is an illusion. It is a magic trick. It is not a “look” and cannot be seen. It is felt. Beauty is a personality and has its own life. It lives in an easy smile and a kind word, a hearty laugh and a genuinely concerned frown. It is that which connects us as human animals on our deeper levels.

Our judgment of beauty is sometimes primitive, largely banal and usually involves unseen elements of character which sway the eyeball one direction or another. I believe, though, that we will always recognize and appreciate a truly beautiful soul, sometimes even our own. With this in mind, I will not call my son ugly just because he invents, on a daily basis, new ways to shave time off of my life. I know, more than anyone, how truly extraordinary he is. And if the mirror is unkind to me, I will simply shine a casual middle finger in its direction and move on with my day. A mirror can’t feel the minute variations in a heartbeat or see inside a soul and that’s where everything important and truly beautiful resides.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

After a 14 hour travel day, I am too brain-fried to trust the column I have written. I can’t tell if it’s good or if it sucks. When this happens I will pull something from my quiver and hope it strikes a target. This piece was written as a “speech” for my friends, Eric and Michelle’s, wedding last summer. It felt good to write and felt good for me to read it again. Happy Feel Good Friday!!! -Dave

While preparing for today’s presentation, I looked around a bit to see what others have had to say about marriage. I looked to the sages and philosophers from the ages and discovered many beautiful, gushing, flowing and important words; Words that inspired and affected and sang to me. Words that made me want to marry my wife over and over again every day. As impressive as some of these words were, they in large part lacked a fundamental element important to me when saying something: they lacked truth. They were not necessarily untrue. Their words simply didn’t tell the whole story and they were, I think, likely written by people who had never actually been married and understood that a real marriage is not all candlelit kisses and longing looks. Real marriages, invariably, involves bad moods and bad breath and at some point bringing the other person a new roll of toilet paper as they sit needing more toilet paper. I think these experiences are more common than the sentiments expressed by the smart people. A real marriage is more complicated. A real marriage involves varying amounts of conflict and frustration and concession. As human beings we are all flawed and we carry these flaws to a marriage. On a daily basis, our own goofy baggage muddies the waters and raises eyebrows and sometimes the voice of our spouse, who tries to make sense of the senseless. A real marriage is not a clean and tidy business. It can get messy.

In evaluating the countless ways I have made messes in my own marriage, I have come to understand that while my messes may not be avoidable, the impact of these things can be somewhat offset by doing good things, too. Being flawed individuals, we are going to make messes. We are going to say and do some profoundly stupid things. However, these things need not completely undermine an otherwise good relation. By consciously involving our better demons on a daily basis, we can, on some level, shave the sharp edges off of our bad choices. These involve deliberate and intentional effort, but they are worth it, every time. Things we can do include sharing, giving, understanding and doing, even and maybe especially, when you don’t feel like it. I’ve found that doing something when you don’t really feel like it, is perhaps the most important time to do anything.

First, share: share ideas and hopes and dreams and the last piece of bacon. Share the parts of yourself that are awkward and uncomfortable. Share your fears and concerns. Share a true laugh and a true tear. A certain emotional nudity is vital to creating a marriage of substance. When we strip ourselves bare and trust that the other will not point and laugh, a deeper connection is built and a foundation is laid for a relationship of meaning. This relationship makes both people better.

Next, give: Give what you have. An element of service exists in a good marriage. From doing the dishes to mowing the lawn to putting away your shoes to putting the toilet seat up-or down-whichever the case requires, marriage involves doing things that prevent tension. We don’t always want to do these things, but that doesn’t matter. Doing things we don’t want to do is called giving. And doing these things says “I love you” better than the words can.

Closely tied to giving is understanding. Understanding what to give involves understanding where the other person places value. What matters to them are the things we need to be aware of: How do they like their coffee? What’s their favorite flower? What do they think about and care about? Understanding these things makes appropriate giving possible and appropriate giving makes a happy day possible.

To have understanding is very simple: one must PAY ATTENTION. People are subtle. Preferences and trends involve nuance. Being tuned into the other’s heartbeat is the cornerstone of a successful marriage. What’s important is, unfortunately, rarely obvious, thusly, we must pay attention to the gentle shifts in a look or a tone of voice to direct us. Being distinctly different animals, men and women struggle for this understanding, but by watching and learning and caring to understand, an imperfect balance can be attained.

After the “I dos” come the “I wills” and married life begins. Here lies the challenge of carrying on the wedding day bliss. Beyond the “I do” come other words that are just as valuable. Words like “Thank you” “You look nice” “Can I help?” “What do you need” and maybe most importantly the words, “I’m sorry” and “It’s OK.” Forgiveness is necessary. Given our aforementioned flaws, mistakes will be made and forgiving and moving on is the only way to have a marriage that can sustain the inevitable bonehead moves.

We live a life of days. Each day consists of moments. Some are breath-taking and some are eye-rolling and these moments make a life. Any life and certainly a married life is the sum of the moments we create. Life is not a single event. It is an anthology of moments. We have absolute control over these moments. With these moments, we humanize and encourage and support each other. With these moments, we make the other person feel good and we become better. These seemingly innocuous, anonymous little moments, a delicate touch on the back of her neck when passing in the kitchen, an unrequested, but very welcome snack, a head on the shoulder while sitting on the couch watching bad TV, these moments set the stage and a tone. Acknowledging and recognizing that these small moments matter and indeed may be the biggest moments there are, is elemental. The gentle, yet vital moments of loving being in a moment with the person you love changes us. They connect us and bind us and are the place where our truest smiles live. They are important in the ways they shape a life together. All of the beauty and magic of a married life live here. Having, making and enjoying a life of moments is the surest way to having, making and enjoying a married life together. As the sun rises and sets in a brief moment, so does life, and nothing is more majestic, powerful, or important to a good day and a good life than appreciating the significance of a single moment. Nothing matters more than a simple and fleeting moment.

So Eric and Michelle, I wish you both a life filled with a vast and wonderful collection of these simple, loving moments that will enrich you and enliven you and make it all worthwhile.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

‘We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year’s Day’

- Edith Lovejoy Pierce

Did you know?
Students K-12 can get free homework help from trained volunteer tutors in many KCLS Libraries:

• Boulevard Park Library -Wednesday, January 11,18th, & 25th 6pm-8pm
• Burien Library -Monday through Thursday from 3:30pm-5:30pm
• White Center Library -Tuesday, January 10, 17, & 24 3pm-5pm & Wednesday & Thursday 5:30pm-7:30pm

Look for the volunteer in the blue tee shirt with the yellow Study Zone logo

‘Book Buddies’
Is a great new program created by the Burien Teen and Children’s Librarians to help elementary kids with their reading, trained high school volunteers will provide one-on-one reading help for children in grades K-4:

• Monday, January 9th, 23rd, & 30th; beginning at 4pm @ the Burien Library

Drop-in, no registration is required

Fulfill your New Year’s resolution to READ MORE – join US!
Burien Book Club will be discussing ‘Lost Flamingoes of Bombay’ by Siddharth Dhanvant Shanghvi

• Wednesday, January 18th beginning at 2pm; Conference room on the second floor

Book Review:
‘In the Garden of Beasts; Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler’s Berlin’ by Erik Larson

Erik Larson sheds new and alarming insights on the people, politics, and policies that enabled Hilter’s government to take complete control over Germany and illuminates how and why these events could have happened.

This story unfolds around two key members of an American family sent to Germany in the years before World War II began.

William Dodd was appointed by President Roosevelt as Ambassador to Germany in 1933. Dodd was a soft spoken and often maligned individual who did not fit the ‘pretty good club’ ambassadorial mold of wealthy privileged appointees before him. Still, he stuck to his ethical and moral standards and strived to be a voice of reason and clarity. Dodd sought to raise the alarm flag as daily occurrences of oppression, censorship, and violence were perpetrated on ordinary citizens, even Americans, and especially on the Jewish community by the Third Reich. His messages were often muted, overlooked, and sometimes downright ignored by the State Department and others who did not think Dodd should ever have been appointed as Ambassador.

Martha Dodd, Ambassador Dodd’s daughter, was also in the spotlight during the prewar days in Berlin.  Martha was at first enthused by the ‘fresh faces’ of the Hitler Youth and inspired by their vigor and beauty. Martha became socially, if not romantically involved with a number of officers from the Nazi party, including Gestapo chief Rudolf Deils, but as events unfolded she too became disenchanted with the Third Reich and eventually switched her allegiances to the Communist Party(another story entirely!).

Larson skillfully portrays the events of 1933-34 Berlin from the perspective of everyday citizens as well as from those in positions of power.  Larson answers the question ‘how could this happen?’ very clearly.

Highly recommended – available as eAudio, eBook, on CD, and in Large Print.

- Marilee A. Cogswell

Marilee A. Cogswell is the Manager of the Burien Library.

by Dave Markwell

Sitting aboard Delta Airlines flight 822 heading east for a plane change in Detroit while traveling on a holiday “vacation” to Rochester, NY to visit my wife’s family, I glanced across the aisle and saw my daughter seat-dancing to a song I’m sure I hate, listening through the ear buds of her mother’s I-Pod. My wife sat diligently underlining words in a book. I noticed that she underlined a lot of words, so many, in fact, that I contemplated that she might have saved some ink by simply highlighting the words she DIDN’T want to remember. To her right, sprawled my son, Aden. He wore big headphones, while drinking a Coke. The crown jewel of his outfit were the “Elvis” sunglasses perched on his face, complete with poofy, black sideburns. These glasses are perhaps the finest or perhaps the worst gift I have ever bought him. The jury is still out, but he wears them without shame, all the time. He gets a lot of attention, which is probably something any good gift should deliver to a 12 year old boy.
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In a couple of days, the dog-eared, much scribbled on 2011 calendar will be removed from the nail in my kitchen and replaced with a clean 2012 one. I love New Years, not the holiday itself, which I think is grossly over-hyped, but the event. When the clock strikes 12:00, a page is turned and a new and promising future begins. I love this part. I love the idea of a fresh start and a new beginning. I love another chance to do and be better. I love an empty highway, free and bright with hope. Some days, I wish New Years would come more than once a year.

As I reflect upon my life’s past year and game-plan the year ahead, I need only look across the much too-skinny aisle of flight 822 to find inspiration. Most of the time, I am uncomfortably aware of the ways my life could be better. Unfortunately, these sentiments are powerful and can sometimes over-shadow all the things that are pretty great already. I think this year I will spend a little more time remembering all that I already have instead of pining for hollow and disposable trinkets.

A wise man, whose name I cannot recall, once said, “Nothing matters much. And few things matter at all.” I already have what matters. With this in mind, I will carry the image of my family across the aisle throughout the year. I will remember my happy, butt-dancing eight year old girl. I will remember my goofy and glorious “Elvis.” I will remember my kind, beautiful and magnificent wife engaged in her constant quest for self-improvement.

As a resolution, I will dance with my little girl any time she will let me and occasionally make her when she won’t.

As a resolution, I will NOT tell my son to take off his stupid glasses. The kid’s got potatoes for wearing them through the crowded holiday airport. I will not peel them.

As a resolution, I will keep a hearty stock of pens handy for my wife because, God knows, she’ll need them. I will support her in simple and honest ways, so she will know she’s important to me.

My New Year’s resolutions sat right next to me on a long plane ride to Detroit and sit with me every day of my life. These are the “few things” that matter at all.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

I love going to the mailbox this time of year. Normally, I am shamelessly indifferent about receiving mail. Bills and junk mail have lost their allure for me. In fact, I usually outsource this duty to my eight year old daughter who still enjoys the little surprises hidden in our black box. As such, she can have this job…except during the holiday season. I love getting Christmas cards. I love seeing old friends growing older. I love seeing their kids, whom I don’t see often enough, getting bigger and growing up, too. I love creative “photo shop” efforts and solemn family poses. I love pictures of my friends and family standing in the snow or by the beach with their smiles and dogs.

While I love receiving each and every computer-generated or hand-written Christmas card, I am shamefully neglectful in sending them. Every year, I say it will be different next year. I will get my family together and shape a perfect card. It will be funny and resonant and important. I will send this masterpiece to all the people I care about and they will really understand how much they mean to me. Unfortunately, also every year, I don’t do this. My good intentions have paved a nice, sturdy, four-laner heading straight south. My wife gets mad at me. My kids get mad at me. And likely some of my friends who send the cool cards wonder, “WTF, Markwell”. I’m sure these people are as interested in seeing my kids and dogs as I am in seeing theirs. They would probably enjoy a card from me. Well, this is my failure and mine alone.

Through the years, my wife has suggested some decent cards to send. I vetoed them, because they were not awesome enough. I have high expectations for my Christmas cards and instead of sending something less-than-spectacular, I send nothing. I use this as my lousy excuse every year and every year my wife shakes her head and says, “You are lame.” I cannot argue with her, I kind of am. This is my curse, lameness.

Like every thing else in life, technology has changed even Christmas cards and I enjoy “e-cards” very much, too. Dancing heads make me smile. My friends’ joyful faces planted on an animated reindeer shaking its rear end, makes me happy. While I am critical about what I send…or rather don’t send…I am not picky about what I get. I do not critique other’s cards. I love them all and though it was not “technically” a Christmas card, couple of days ago, I received a fantastic note in my “inbox” that was as meaningful as any card I have received in recent memory. This note was certainly inspired by the spirit of this season.

Twenty years ago this week, my buddy, JK, was commissioned as a naval officer at a small ceremony in Moscow, Idaho. I was home for break from college at the time but, to support my pal, I loaded a compromised collection of jokers into my Dad’s jeep and made the 300 mile trek across the state to witness JK’s milestone. He was to become a Navy aviator and as a long-time friend, his milestone was ours, too. In his recent e-mail, he expressed appreciation for our efforts so many years ago and attached a photo of us taken at the grand event. We were all skinnier and had more hair. Some of us had A LOT more hair. (You know who you are.) It was a great moment for all of us.

In his note, JK reminded me of my regular closing to our phone conversations during this time. I always ended our chats with “Don’t crash.” As morbid as this may sound, at the time, and maybe still, it was important for me to say this. Understanding that military service is, by nature, dangerous, I wanted him to be careful and in some slightly gruesome way understand that he was important to me. He always replied that he would “try not to”. This was strangely comforting to me and, at the close of his note this week, JK said he is still trying not to crash…and I was still comforted.

While I have rarely subscribed to conventional forms of expression, I do possess a deep understanding that life is always short, and in some sad instances, the sands’ ceaseless trek through our hour glass will shatter the bottom with its pace.

With this in mind, very few people in my life are completely unaware of my feelings about them. And even if they don’t get a Christmas card from me this year, (which they won’t) they are my what I treasure most and they can all rest assured that NEXT YEAR will be THE year for the most epic card ever!! It will sing and pull heartstrings and inspire. They will feel the piece of my heart that beats for them. My art will speak everything that I feel and sometimes don’t say. Next year, for sure, they will all know, with certainty, how much I don’t want them to crash.

For this year, I still wish for EVERYONE: An abundance of abundance and a lack of lack. A smile and a song. Peace and health and hope and love for this season and all seasons. Merry Christmas to ALL!!!

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

Through the various trips and travels of my forty-two years, I have learned many things. Some of these things have come through very deliberate efforts, but probably the majority of the “knowledge” I have gained and carry with me today has largely been serendipitous or just plain accident. Gratefully, I seem to stumble into people and experiences that educate me in ways that I could not buy and would not trade. My eyes are always open to these people.

For example, at my Rotary club lunch this week, we were treated to some Mt. Rainier High School choir kids singing some songs. It was great. The fact that I enjoyed it speaks to it actually being pretty great, because I generally do not like “glee” ish stuff much at all. Exaggerated and dramatic singing tends to make me wince and curls my innards a little bit. I leave the room when “those” shows are on TV. Nonetheless, I truly enjoyed watching these young adults do their thing. I did not fiddle with my food or wish I was someplace else during their performance. I paid attention and was happy doing so. When they finished, I applauded enthusiastically and loudly. A valuable lesson was in action here.

A couple of years ago, at another Rotary lunch, I sat next to my buddy, BJ, idly chatting. I don’t remember the exact context of our conversation, but it involved our weekly program speaker and he intimated some important words shared with him many years earlier. These words were at the heart of my lesson. He said that he always claps excitedly for any performance or speaker he hears. He got this advice some time ago and it changed his perspective. Understanding that every person or group of people standing up in front of an audience is vulnerable and is sharing something of themselves makes every performance worth applauding. The simple act of standing there is worthy of appreciation. Whether one agrees with or enjoys what is being said or sung doesn’t matter. It takes cojones to say it or sing it and this should be rewarded with a hearty clap. I took this insight to heart and as I was enthusiastically applauding the nervous teens sharing their songs, I looked over at BJ and saw him, too, clapping like a madman. I smiled a thankful smile. This was a great lesson to learn.

Another unintended lesson that has resonated throughout my life came from my Mom. As a kid, I was a little high-strung and prone to some anxiety about fairly innocuous circumstances. One morning, before school, I was stressing out about something no doubt unworthy of my over-reaction. At this point, my Mom looked at me with the deep concern that only a mother holds and said, “Just relax”. As elementary as this idea seems, it had avoided me until this moment in my life. Surprisingly my Mom’s subtle, yet brilliantly powerful words worked. I just relaxed. I changed my mind and even today I remember this lesson whenever I’m faced with a situation where relaxing is helpful, which is basically all the time. I shared this lesson recently:

A couple of week’s ago, a client at my CrossFit gym worried her way through the workout, distracted and tense. Following her efforts, I gently inquired what the hell her problem was. She was stressed out about some work stuff and it was affecting her ability to focus and truly function at her normally pretty high level. It is worth noting that she is a high-achieving young doctor with a tremendous mind and spirit. She is not a whiny complainer with a perpetually half-empty glass. She told me her dilemma. It was a deal, but not a big one. I told her my “mom” story and suggested that she “just relax” and take care of the issue, no biggie. She felt better in that instance when she gave herself permission to relax. It was a moment of clarity. Her reaction was visceral. She did not know that she could actually make herself relax. This is a tremendously powerful tool and we all have it, always. We always have this power to change our mind and how we think about things. Knowing this makes the whole of life easier and more fun. And if this insight can help even one of the best and brightest, it can help anyone.

So, during this wonderful holiday season of miracles embrace all of the head-shaking and neck-hair rising experiences that it has to offer. Keep your eyes peeled for new ideas and perspectives. Share your own with others needing them. These ARE the miracles. This year, RELAX during Christmas dinner when the screaming kids knock over the gravy boat and the dog barfs up a turkey neck….and always…CLAP like crazy every chance you get!! Lessons learned….

e given every single day. It can be a kind word, a smile, a wave, a bad joke. It can be a gesture that says something or says nothing. Sometimes saying nothing, says something. It can be a flower or a book or a meal. In fact, a meal, I know from experience, is a good gift, especially if it is a deluxe and delicious, super-bitchin’ omelet served in bed.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

This morning I made my wife an omelet. This act alone is not super noteworthy. I make her breakfast fairly often. The unusual ingredient in this morning’s meal was the extra time and effort I put into it. I shredded cheese, sliced and diced ham and even butchered a perfectly good pineapple for this masterpiece. I whipped the eggs with a sharp eye for the proper, perfect omelet, consistency. I used my most supple and delicate wrist while applying the seasoned salt and pepper and I didn’t overdo the hot sauce that she likes. I even carved some not-quite-ripe avocado as a tasty garnishing topper and frankly, the soaring, yet subtle, crescendo to this marvelous creation. The finest of art has not known more true human emotion than this omelet. I put in the LOVE. Passion and conviction danced through each knife stroke and spatula turn to create an omelet worthy of HER and this foggy, late-autumn morning.

As she lay in our bed, sleepy and warm, about to begin her day, I delivered my gift. She was pleased. And so was I. Taking a little extra effort to make a breakfast I knew she would like made me happy. As the giver, I received more than the receiver. This is saying something. My wife is an eater. She likes food very much and she especially likes food that she doesn’t have to prepare. The fact that I enjoyed making this omelet more than she enjoyed eating it speaks to the wonderful joy of giving. Giving changes us. Following this little kindness, my day carried on with its own unique flavor. The smoky ham, sweet pineapple and sharp cheddar cheese took sanctuary in my spirit. My wife’s special omelet tossed a pebble into my little pond that sent ripples in many directions.

After the omelet delivery and before school, I sat on the couch and snuggled with my daughter. I told her that out of all the millions of little girls in the whole wide world, she was the best one. Her day was better because of this and so was mine. Throughout the day, I was simply nicer to everyone I met. Such is the power of a heartfelt gift. This morning, I learned or was reminded that giving is about the best thing there is.

With Christmas fast approaching, the world is buzzing with thoughts of gifts. The thin ether surrounding us is alive with countless loving and somewhat desperate considerations. People around the globe are smiling and fretting at the same time pondering the infinite gifting options. My recommendation this year is to give something that feels good to give. This makes the whole process a lot easier and much more fun. If the stars align and this gift is something someone actually wants, great, but if not, it will still feel good to give it. Note, I am not recommending senseless indifference towards the recipients’ wishes. I am proposing that a gift that feels good to give will nearly always be received warmly. It takes intent and good will to find these things and it shows. These presents are way better than some scrambling, last minute, cop-out gift that will likely be re-gifted next year. A true gift does not require anything more than a true thought behind it. A true gift comes from a special place. This place is ours and sharing it with the people we love is exactly what this season is all about.

A good gift can be given every single day. It can be a kind word, a smile, a wave, a bad joke. It can be a gesture that says something or says nothing. Sometimes saying nothing, says something. It can be a flower or a book or a meal. In fact, a meal, I know from experience, is a good gift, especially if it is a deluxe and delicious, super-bitchin’ omelet served in bed.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

Every year my Rotary Club donates dictionaries to all of the third graders in our city. Distributing the books to the students is always a neat event. It is fun seeing all of the young faces exploring their new gift and it feels good to give this gift. This year was even cooler for me because my daughter is a third grader.

A couple of days ago, I went to the school and handed out dictionaries to her and her classmates, many of whom I have known since kindergarten. It was great seeing their enthusiasm and it was fun seeing my daughter in her school environment. I pick her up from school every afternoon, but I don’t often witness her in a classroom. She was happy to see me, but also a little bit anxious as I had, the previous evening, detailed all the ways I was going to embarrass her during this event. Waiting for her dictionary, she wore a nervous smile and begged me with her eyes to not do anything stupid. She needn’t have worried. I behaved myself and was proud to be there. I did come to understand as I stood watching her interact and actually pay attention that she is a pretty good kid. It is easy to forget this. At school, she listens and minds her manners. Things are different when she is home with me. Besides her good behavior, this experience illustrated to me that she is growing up faster than I can comprehend and is changing in ways that astound me when I catch glimpses of them.

Prior to the dictionary distribution, I went to the school office and signed my girl out of class for the rest of the afternoon as a little surprise for her. After the books were handed out, I told my daughter that we were leaving early to meet my wife and to get some hot chocolate at Auntie Irene’s, a local coffee shop. She was pleased with this news.

During the brief drive from Des Moines Elementary to the coffee shop, the radio was tuned to a country station and a song mentioning “paradise” was playing. The song referenced islands and sand and sun and it felt pretty good to hear about these things on a rather dreary northwest afternoon

At the coffee shop, I sat in a comfy chair while my wife and daughter playfully visited. Glancing out the window at the waters of my life, Puget Sound, the song about “paradise” kept replaying in my mind. The idea of paradise is a little slippery and nebulous to me. It’s a “you know it when you see it” kind of thing. That afternoon, sitting with my girls, sipping a good cup of coffee, looking out a rain splattered window at my world, I felt paradise. And it was nice.

I felt paradise, too, when my daughter was collecting her things to leave the classroom as her envious classmates returned to their school work and my girl looked at me with a conspiratorial shrug and a grin of pleasure. She knew that she was special. It’s important to feel special sometimes and the fact that I made her feel special made me feel special. Paradise was found…again.

These moments of paradise are a soft-soled dance with perfection and feel good every time. What struck me and stayed with me following this insight was that moments like this happen often. Every single day we experience moments in paradise. The key to achieving them is seeing them. They are there. We just have to look.

Each day is filled with brief sparks of true moments that slow us down and baffle the noisy world we spend much of life living in. These moments are paradise. A certain peace lives in this stillness that reminds and recharges and sometimes reinvents us in ways that make us better. Paradise lives here and surrounds us always. It is in the mind and heart. It has infinite shapes and colors. And the hue is especially shiny on a dark and damp afternoon playing hooky with a happy eight year old daughter.

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]

by Dave Markwell

I am not a big fan of parades. To be clear, I don’t really like parades on TV. I like them in person. This is an interesting fact only because I am actually enjoying watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. For some strange reason, I am un-begrudgingly sitting on my Mom’s couch not wishing to change the channel. I’m sure there is some football action on someplace, but I am happy with the parade. This is a pretty drastic departure from my standard turkey day sentiment. Perhaps this is another step in my lingering evolution, I do not know. As a guy, I hope not. As a dad, husband and son, I hope so. The rest of my family is enjoying the parade, with the notable exception of my 12 year old son, who sarcastically comments on every entry. That’s my boy. But, my mom, wife and even my barfing daughter are enjoying each dance and song and maybe, because they are, I am too. I am happy because they are.

Thanksgiving is, by definition, about “giving thanks”. This is a wonderful and rather fortuitous idea. It is a great reminder. We all have much to be thankful for. Even under the challenging situations which many of us face, our lives are filled with hope, love and opportunity. We have friends and families and choices and chances to be better. We have fond memories and inspiring possibilities. We have dreams to live and a life to enjoy every day. I am thankful for all of this.

While I love the tradition and gravy of Thanksgiving Day, I also think it necessary to recognize our blessings more than once a year. While I certainly understand that a lot of “thanks” and “giving” happens throughout the rest of the year, it does not happen with the same sense of urgency or steep intent of true charity that exists during this holiday. Thanksgiving is a state of mind. Appreciating each day as a chance to help and serve feels damn good every day. I submit that trying a little harder to inject a little more of this into every regular, mundane, ordinary and seemingly forgettable day of the year will make them all better.

This is not a new idea. Self-help pundits tout this “attitude of gratitude” as the holy grail trail towards self-actualization. I’m not sure if this is true or not, but it is not entirely false. While I enjoy many of the ideas about self-helpy stuff, a lot of it gives me gas. Sappy platitudes delivered by weepy-eyed, soft-spoken and soft-handed, middle-aged men do not appeal to me. I like it real. Self-improvement exists in the mud and struggle of daily life. It lives in the dirt. It is appreciating the dirt as something more. It is seeing the beauty in the imperfect elements of which most of life consists. Waiting for life to be un-messy before being happy is a sad recipe for a thin and short life of disappointment. Being happy in spite of circumstances is the key to a good, full and rich life. Living with true “thanksgiving” is this feeling and it can happen any day of the year.

Being grateful is important, but the “giving” component of “thanksgiving” is just as vital. “It is better to give than receive”. Whoever penned this was genius. I know not a truer truth. Being thankful is at the heart of giving. Giving is a beautiful obligation we have as receivers of all that we are thankful for. The capacity to give lives each and every day and it is powerful stuff.

Intentional and deliberate giving on a global scale would change the world. By giving, I speak of small, but collective, acts of goodness and niceness that simply brighten a day or a sidewalk. These acts are cumulative. If everyone took the opportunity to say something nice to the supermarket checker or picked up the root beer can on the sidewalk outside their neighbor’s house, the world would be better. And this would be good. Among your list of leftover eating this season, add this as food for thought…

Well, the parade is over and dinner has been over-eaten. I now sit watching “Christmas Vacation” happy that my daughter has stopped puking and my son has stopped playing his video game. My wife sits next to me, reading and laughing at the parts I think are stupid. My mom laughs, too, while eating some pumpkin pie. Outside, the sleety rain blows sideways as my dog, Diego, sits beneath the living room window on the covered porch chewing a turkey neck. He is happy, too. My life is here and it is good. It will be good tomorrow and the day after, as well. Gratefully, Thanksgiving does not come but once a year…Enjoy all of them!!!

[EDITOR'S NOTE:"Feel Good Friday" is a regular column written by Des Moines resident Dave Markwell, who extols to all neighbors: "Enjoy where we live. Put your feet on the pavement and truly feel how great it is to live here!" Also, you can "friend" Dave on Facebook here. Or work out with him at his new exercise company Waterland CrossFit!]