There ARE Good People in Little Pockets of the World

You can't open a newspaper (if such things still exist), turn on the television or listening to the radio without hearing the onslaught of stories involving some type of crime. There are shootings, robberies, kidnappings, murders and cases of parental violence toward children. It's enough for any sane person to turn insane and any crazy person to feel like part of the cool people's club.

Being the news whore that I am, I watch these stories. I hear these stories. I recently discovered a new station on our Dish Network that runs old episodes of Dateline, 48 Hours Mystery and 20/20 - all crime related. I am now addicted...unfortunately.

Whereby I am legally sane, I can't understand what draws me to these shows. I guess I am intrigued by these people who commit crimes. Why did they do the things they did? Murder, theft, domestic abuse...conducting scams. But, at the end of most of these shows, the murderer, robber, spouse, conman is usually caught and found guilty. Perhaps I need to watch these shows to see that a happy ending is possible.

It's easy to get bogged down with the negatives of life. But, when I hear news stories about mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, friends harming innocent children, it makes it hard to see the good in our society...the good in people. Alas, good people do exist.

And they don't just exist in Mayberry-like communities. They don't just exist in convents, churches, ministries or Beaver Cleaver's home. They are everywhere - yes, even at the whitetrash superstore down the road from me.

Many times you have to search to find an act of kindness. But, there is kindness across this country and around the world. I'm not an expert, but I do know this...kindness does survive in even the most wartorn of areas.

How do I know?

Because I have seen people with nothing give to others in need. I have seen the smile on a child's face when they are hugged. I have seen people share. I have seen people help. Monetarily. Personally. Voluntarily.

Everyday, millions of people help save lives of strangers by volunteering to donate blood. Everyday, millions of people are caring for their grandchildren, sisters, brothers, cousins because the parents can not care for them. Everyday, millions donate food to area food banks to help feed the hungry.

A simple act of kindness - letting someone to go in front of you in line, giving your seat to a pregnant woman - is still an act of kindness. Picking up the phone to tell someone you were thinking about them. Mailing a note to a friend (via the archaic postal system) to brighten their day. Visiting an acquaintance in the hospital. Offering to do housework. Offering to take care of a neighbors kids for free. Helping to find someone's lost pet. Providing encouragement at one's time of need. These are all acts of kindness.

What I have recently learned and observed is that goodness is all around me. The next time an irritating co-worker, an ignorant driver or an unpleasant store clerk threatens to spoil my day, I shall remember the goodness in people.

The saying goes that mean people suck. And they do. I figure, the only thing worse than encountering these people is having to BE these people. So, be a good person and have pity on the mean ones. It sure would suck to be them!

When Two is NOT Better Than One

Last week I went to Kansas City on a solo excursion to see my family. I couldn't wait to get home. But, when I finally did, I realized I didn't feel too well. Perhaps the arctic freeze of the Hilton hotel rooms mixed with snot and daycare germs from my sister's children were a little to much for immune system to handle.

I managed to go to work the next day, there was so much to catch up on and I had been called, paged, emailed and hunted down on my time off. I wanted to make an appearance even though my throat hurt and my head was killing me.

By Noon, I couldn't take it anymore. I succumbed and went to the doctor. Verdict? Double ear infection and strep throat. Good times. I haven't had an ear infection since I was a kid and I remember how awful they felt and how miserable I was.

That came later. I had to take two days off work and I consistently got worse and worse. My throat was on fire. The antibiotics didn't help. But, I believe I slept for 15 hours straight, got up to go to the bathroom, and slept for 8 more.

By Saturday I was feeling better. At least, I was among the living. I wanted to do something. I wanted to feel alive and do something as a family. P-A-R-K? W-A-L-K?
I swear Kaeli can spell, because she bounded for the door, so excited that momma had gotten out of bed.

While I was gone, my husband was a busy man. One of the many things he did was completely organize our garage - to the point where we could fit both cars in our two-car garage. This is a feat that hasn't been accomplished since we moved into our house.

Usually I park in the garage, somewhere in the middle and my husband parks behind me, to the right. It's routine. It's a setup to which I have grown accustomed.

Rick had parked in the driveway on the left side and my car was to the far right side of the garage. We loaded the girls up and Rick waited for me in the driveway since he couldn't open the passenger side door.

"You girls excited? We going to the park? Yeah!"

I looked out my right side, careful not to hit the newly-hung bicycles or the recycle bin. I looked at Rick and just kept backing out, with no care in the world. Then I heard it.

"Crrrrrrrrrrunch."

Wow, that was a large stick, I stupidly thought to myself.

Then I saw Rick's reaction. Hands covered his face. Anger? No. Surprise? Yes.

I put the car in park and stepped into the garage to see what the noise was. Not a twig. Not a branch. Not a tree. Not a damn thing in the driveway...except MY HUSBAND'S CAR!!!

As though I had a head-on collision at 50 miles per hour, I took out his right, front corner - pulled three big bolts and a whole bunch of other parts right off his car. I demolished my left, rear corner - pulled the bottom part of the bumper right off the wheel base. And let's not forget the deep scratches.

It takes talent to wreck TWO of your cars in one outing. I literally killed TWO birds with one stone. I screamed. I cried. I laughed. I blamed the ear infections - they mess with one's equilibrium, right? But, in the end, there is nothing that could be done. So, we went to the P-A-R-K.

Good thing the girls enjoyed themselves, because that was hands down, the most costly trip to the park ever. And I thought Disney World was expensive.

Riches to Rags in Just One Block

Last week, I made the 12-hour trek to Kansas City to visit my family. And to stick with the Stoneking tradition, I stopped overnight in Indianapolis. No, there were no Applebee's adventures, no '80s flashback or hotels 10 miles off the beaten path.

I decided to try Priceline and got a great deal on a hotel. $45 for a 2 1/2 star or above abode. No telling what the place actually looked like or where it was located. God knows I've had my share of 'nice' hotels and 'bad' experiences.

But, when I finally found the place (I believe I circled 69S a couple of times before finding the exit. I hate Mapquest) I was thrilled to see that it was a Hilton. While a part of me cringed at the thought of further contributing to the Hilton sisters' inheritance, I knew that the hotel would be nice. And the location wasn't too bad either.

When I got in, it was way past dinner time and I was starving. I ran my stuff up to my room (beautiful)and headed out to get grub. Since I'm deathly allergic to a lot of things, I typically stop at a grocery store to get veggies and snacks - and I save money - win, win.

I asked the concierge (yes, there was a real concierge) where the nearest store was and lo and behold there were TWO supercenters about a block away. Since I had to cross the highway, I decided to take my car. I would normally walk in these circumstances, but I was tired and didn't feel like playing Frogger in real life.

When I went the full block I noticed a WalMart on my left and a Meijer on my right. However would I decide which one to go to? Since in my former life there was a WalMart on every other street corner, I decided to go to Meijer and see if it was any better than the white trash magnet near my house.

The neighborhood was really nice. It was just a block away from the Hilton from Christ's sake. Millionaires have to go grocery shopping too, right? Maybe the Indianapolis elite congregate at this Meijer like Paris Hilton congregates at any and all hoity toity clubs.

Not so much.

The layout was the same.

The people were the same.

At 8:30 on a Thursday night, there were overweight, bleached-blonde hair (with dark brown roots), women in spandex screaming at their 2 year olds (who probably should have been in bed). There were ragged men with missing teeth, farmers hats, plumber's butts and bellies that looked as though they were expecting.

The attitudes were the same. Nobody was in a hurry.

There should be blinkers attached to shoppers. Move out of the freakin' way so that those who are not distracted by their own screaming and shoving can get their shopping done. And if you don't know how to work the self checkout...DON'T use it. And I swear all Meijer employees come from the same family tree - the one with one branch and one branch only.

I grabbed my stuff, hightailed it out of there and could not wait to sit in the lap of luxury - my very own Hilton hotel room. I entered the lobby, swaggered past the expensive hotel restaurant, casually pressed the elevator button up to the 4th floor and smoothly maneuvered my key out of my wallet and proceeded into the cool room.

I got my laptop out, thinking I would write my blog, and was sadly disappointed that the Hilton wanted to charge me $9.95 for an internet connection. Really?!? Even Motel 6 has free wifi. I guess that's how the Hilton's continue to make their billions.

That's okay. I sat back on the plush bed, with its down comforter and boatload of pillows and figured I'd just read my book with the television on in the background. I ate. I read. I froze my ass off.

The air conditioner was stuck on 60 and I could NOT get the damn thing to turn off. I tried to turn the thermostat up. It just kept blinking then went back to 60. I tried to turn it off. It made a buzzing noise and then went back to 60. Since it is the dead of summer and I didn't pack any long johns or sweatshirts, I took the towels from the bathroom and draped them over my shoulders. I hunkered down under the covers only to realize that the comforter was really the only cover. There was a sheet. ONE single, solitary sheet.

I finally dozed off and woke up to my internal alarm clock (surprised that it, too, wasn't frozen). I could not wait to get on the road. I took a hot shower and could swear I felt a cold coming on. I felt like crap and it's all the Hiltons' fault. I wonder if my case would hold up in court.

"Your Honor, I got a $185 a night room for $45 on Priceline...and the air conditioner didn't work."

"Did you call the front desk?"

"Uh, well, no."

Perhaps my fingers were too frozen to dial.

Yet another great adventure in the booming metropolis of Indianapolis. I literally went from a Paris Hilton BFF to Larry the Cable Guy's neighbor in one night. You're welcome Paris and Nicky for contributing to your party fund.