Rebecca Regnier's Blog

I just want to take a moment to thank the National Society of Newspaper Columnists for recognizing my work this year. They have been so helpful and encouraging to my career as a columnist. I have been writing columns since 2008 but didn't have the confidence to submit my work to any writing competitions for TEN YEARS! My first real validation as a columnist came from readers. Making them smile makes my day. In 2018 I screwed up my courage and submitted to the Columnist Writing Competition. And OMG, they liked my stuff! Well, I cried with joy when I placed the first time! To have your peers, fellow columnists, writers say, hey, not bad? This year I'm honored that my website column that you can read here and on the Triple A Club Alliance website garnered Third Place in the Humor Category!! (My 5th time placing!!) Thank you NSNC for encouraging this little column. It's meant the world to my confidence. I can now proudly say, I'm a writer, without imposter syndrome thanks to NSNC. Well, I still have a little imposter syndrome, but that's common among writers I hear.

Here are the two columns that I submitted for judging this year. I mean Sea Monkeys are the gift that keeps on giving!!!

MY SEAMONKEYS TEACHER

FIGHTING ABOUT MONEY

The post The Little Column That Could! appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

About a year ago, I went back to work in an office setting. I’d been working from home for over five years. But a great job offer came my way, and I went for it. In that time away, a new generation entered the workforce.

GENERATION Z IS IN THE HOUSE! AS IS GENERATION X, GOOD OLD ME
In this new job, I work most closely with co-workers who are younger than my adult children. I am now too old to be their mother. Which, in its way, is freeing. I’m the quirky work grandma these days. Quirky Grandma is more fun than office-mom.

In my new work world, Gen X and Gen Z share office space, project goals, a dry-erase board, and mandatory cyber safety training. Somehow, with decades between us, Gen Z and I are on the same page most of the time. My Gen Z co-workers were born in 2000 or thereabouts. I admit, it’s slightly daunting to think I was 31 when these office mates were born, but there it is.

And there’s an entire generational cohort between us, the Millennials. There’s not a Millennial in sight in my neck of the cubicles. On paper, I’d have more in common with someone in their 40s. But to my delight, Gen Z is a delight, and we both agree that Cheugy-ness is the worst! (Cheugy: Pejorative description of lifestyle trends associated with the early 2010s.)

MY GEN Z COLLEAGUES HAVE TAUGHT ME A LOT, AND I’D LIKE TO THINK I’VE TAUGHT THEM A LITTLE
There’s a myth out there that the younger generation doesn’t want to work. The Gen Zers I know work hard and are conscientious about their output. They want to put good things into the world. They also want to be recognized for it. It was easy to see that my Gen Z co-workers appreciated when I noticed their effort and talent. Something I can’t ever remember my bosses worrying about when I was their age.

I used to think I was lucky to have a job, much less get kudos at that job. When I entered the workforce in the 1990s, jobs were hard to find. It’s the opposite today. Gen Z recognizes its value in a way I still struggle with. They understand that the labor market is tight, and that is powerful. Gen Z can be selective in ways I could not at their age in the 1990s.

I’ve learned that Gen Z takes all their PTO. They do not feel bad about it. Feeling guilty for having a day off is an unknown concept to them. Work-life balance is a goal for them, not a faraway benefit to achieve after “dues” are paid.

I’ve learned Gen Z will not put up with bad behavior in the office. They’re horrified by things that used to be said or done in the workplace prior to the “MeToo” movement. Respect isn’t a faraway benefit to achieve when you get to the top. It’s what all levels of workers deserve.

The concept of calling in sick is also completely different to them. Back in the day, you’d be praised for coming in with a fever and a cough. I anchored a 2-hour newscast in a whisper due to laryngitis. It was ridiculous. These days, everyone appreciates when you stay home. Got a cough? See you on Zoom.

SO, WHAT HAVE I CONTRIBUTED?
I’ve tried to convey that emails don’t need to be novels. You can answer a question without the entire history of your thought process. Also, you don’t need to attend every fight you’re invited to. And not to focus on how young you are. It’s neither a badge of honor nor a reason for your ideas to be undervalued. Age is just a number in both directions.

I’ve shared the perspective that everyone is under some pressure. As a younger worker, it can feel like you get the most guff. But take a look up and down at your workplace. Breathing down the neck of your manager is a Vice President; breathing down his neck is a CEO. Putting yourself in someone else's mindset helps you adjust your own.

It’s been fun learning that I have a touch of “rizz.” Accepting the observation that I am a bit of a “try hard.” And discovering that in today’s workplace I can wear whatever “fit” I want and we “Gucci.”

And here’s a flex, no cap: My Gen Z office mate and I can spot a Chad a mile away.

Originally Published in AAA Club Alliance

The post GenX and GenZ Share an Office appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

A few years back, Allure, the women's fashion magazine, vowed to stop using the word anti-aging. The magazine's editors declared that words matter (ya think?) and that when it comes to fashion, beauty, or hair, the term anti-aging leads to the idea that ageism is okay.

Last fall at Paris Fashion Week, Pamela Anderson went makeup-free, and Andie MacDowell and Helen Mirren let their gray hair fly.

The word pro-aging is now “a thing.”

Cool. I have no choice but to be pro-age since I'm getting old. Hey! You are, too. Maybe we all get on board?

Before I go any further, this is not a list of dos and don'ts about what not to wear over fifty or sixty or whatever age.

If anything, it's a reminder that you need to do what makes you feel confident, calm, or happy. Okay? We're old. Stop wasting time. Do the things you want to do. Pro-age, to me, means feeling comfortable doing what gives us peace and happiness.  

My day job is on television. Every morning. Live for one hour. At the time of this writing, I am the second oldest female on the air in my television market. And the third oldest all around.  

My unfiltered face is in HD every day. I may yet get some stuff smoothed or plumped or buffed out, but as of this writing, I haven't yet.  

I'm a gray-haired old lady on TV. Or gray-haired old Gen Xer, to be specific. And honestly, when I went gray, it felt like a rebellion. Eschewing the blonde for this mishmash of natural color felt like a chance to say, hey, guess what? I'm still here, and I'm getting older! Y'all loved Betty White, right?

A few years ago, I decided my carefully curated highlights felt silly. I don't know what changed from one day when I loved the color to the next when I decided I was done. Bleaching my white roots yellow just seemed like nonsense almost overnight. My lifelong Barbie Dream Hair made the rest of me look out of place. What used to be my signature look just didn't fit me anymore. So, I retired my blond bombshell look. 

I'm not here to fight age. I'm here to say this is the age I am. I have strength, wisdom, and value, and it took a long time to get all those things. My gray hair is a part of those qualities.
 A gray-haired man is called the CEO, distinguished, George Clooney. A gray-haired woman is never associated with power or accomplishment. She's usually just the lady standing next to Mr. Claus. Women aren’t allowed the same leeway to look older.

So, while I'm still on TV, still writing books, still writing this column, I'm going to continue to let my gray hair fly. If more women in high-profile positions did the same, maybe we'd start to see women with gray hair as distinguished. Or as supermodels on the catwalk, like Ms. MacDowell!

It does take some time. In fact, it took me a couple of years to make the switch.  

But these days it's the number one thing people ask me about. People stop me in the store. They message me on Facebook. They email me. “I love your hair.” 

They also want advice on how to do it. My advice is to ask your hairdresser. That's what I did. We made a plan. The plan included growing things out, low lights to match what was growing in, and still include toners to keep the white from turning yellow. If your stylist doesn't know how to help you, find another stylist. If they say gray will “age” you, just let them know that age ages us. And there's no cure.

Better still, ask the next gray-haired woman you see who does her hair. And tell her you like it. Believe me, it'll make her day.

Rocking “wisdom highlights” feels right for me. I hope reading this helps you if you want to let your gray hair fly. Or not, again, do you, sister.

But if you do decide to own going gray, don't be surprised if I'm behind you at Kroger, telling you how great your tinsel looks! I support your decision about your journey because that's how pros age.

Originally Published in AAA Club Alliance

The post Gray Haired Old GenX TV Lady appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

Here's what 225 Lifting Sessions in 2023 Taught Me

December 1, 2022, I changed my life. But it took a full year to see.

I know the date because I embarked on a new workout program that required a training session each day until Christmas, a workout advent calendar. The premise? If you can work out during the year's busiest season, you can continue the rest of the year. Plus, each workout was short, twenty minutes.

I have done workout programs from Jane Fonda to Shaun T. I've spun, danced, walked, and even run a 10K. I've started and stopped.

On December 1, 2022, it was time to start again. A sedentary pandemic had me feeling achy, bloated, tired, and old. I wasn't dreaming of abs of steel at my age. My motivation was just to move every day until Christmas. Even if I didn't feel better by Christmas Day, I'd still have prioritized my health during a season when I always eat too much and sleep too little.

My mindset was important here for what happened later. In this time period, I decided I wouldn't allow myself a day off. I wouldn't negotiate with myself.

So, I trudged down to the basement and did my YouTube workout. Every day. It wasn't pretty. My attempt at a single push-up was a nightmare. I looked nothing like the instructor. My lunges were a joke. My knee was nowhere near the floor. I could get my knee to a yoga block. So, I did that. It was better than nothing, right? The instructor held twenty-pound dumbbells on her shoulders for her squats. I could barely lower my body weight down, much less lift it up again. But I gave myself a gift that first day. I released myself from worrying about being bad at it. I did what I could. My only rule was to try every day.

Over a year later, I'm the strongest I've ever been. I have a hard time even writing that. It seems pretend.

There was no magic or master motivation. There is no bathing suit to fit into. It is just me lifting a little more some days and other days, a little less. Every day, I try. Every once in a while, I amaze myself when the attempt yields success. One day I tried removing the yoga block to touch my knee to the floor during a lunge, and I could do it!

I've discovered that strength, like age and time, creeps up on you. I can't control aging, but I was shocked to learn I can control my strength and I can use my time, or it can use me. Here's what else I've learned by doing 225 lifting sessions over the last year.

You feel bad at first. You're bad at it, weak. You don't feel inept when you start walking or cycling because you already know how to walk or pedal. But when you're new at lifting weights, it's awkward and foreign. Moving your body in new ways doesn't feel cool or smooth. You shake. The next day, the next three days, you think, why did I make myself feel worse? But feeling bad gets better. Muscle soreness abates the next time you lift. You start to like feeling sore, knowing that you did something to earn it.

You feel stronger faster than you expect. Two weeks into weight lifting, I noticed improvements in walking upstairs or carrying the laundry. I wasn't making that sound when I stood up after watching my shows.

This led me to think about lifting as functional fitness. I used to envision weight lifting as the purview of athletes and bikini models. It seemed a waste of time for my non-bikini model life. But I learned that weight lifting for less than thirty minutes a day made the other twenty-three hours and my sleep easier. No bikini required.

Hard lifting made life easier. Adjust your readers and read that again.

We're conditioned to think that with age comes decline. You used to be thin, you used to be fast, you used to be blonde, you used to be….

With strength training, I've discovered, joyfully, that I can get better and ascend instead of decline. Consistent weight training has shown me that at age 54, I'm stronger than I was at 24 or 34.

Expecting to achieve results in a month or two is immature. True change comes from daily practice over years. Years. This is maturity.

The other day, I picked up a 50-pound dumbbell and did twenty squats. Squats that, a year ago, I could barely do with no weight. When I was done, I cried. But it wasn't because I felt bad.

FOLLOW ME ON MY SOCIALS FOR MORE

Originally Published in AAA The Extra Mile

The post I Started Weight Lifting In My Fifties appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

We’re in the season where millions plan and gather for dinner, drinks, and gifts.

That’s right, the holidays.

While this sounds warm and fuzzy, and like angels getting wings left and right, it can actually be down and dirty with relatives arguing on the left and right.

We are assailed with messages on television and in movies that this is the most wonderful time of the year, but let’s be honest, it can be the most stressful, too.

One of those stressors can be a conflict with our nearest and dearest. People you’ve unfollowed on Facebook are now in the family room and maybe in your face.

Can I manage holiday stress? Is there a way we can keep things jolly? Or is that thinking folly?

I am the oldest daughter. I am the oldest granddaughter. I have been a mother for more than half of my life. I have been a wife for slightly longer. All of this is to say if there is a fight during the holidays, I’m the one trying to diffuse it or, better yet, divert it before it even starts.

This coping mechanism began long before the current climate of woke vs. uh, what’s the opposite of woke? Unwoke? I don’t know. What I know is that it is getting harder to diffuse that simmering rage that sits next to the gravy boat.

Here’s how I’ve managed to keep family holidays happy in years past: a Bloody Mary the minute Santa leaves our house! No, kidding. I usually have wine the night before and the Bloody Mary for breakfast. Okay, seriously, I was supposed to give you tips on getting along with others, tested over years of accommodating everyone and their brothers over the holidays. That’s what moms and daughters do. But this year, I saw the Barbie movie, so guess what? I quit.

Somewhere in my programming and in the DNA of millions of other moms, peacemaking, pleasing people, and smoothing tensions became our responsibility. It’s not enough to decorate the house until Joanna Gaines herself is impressed. We have to ensure everyone else is happy at all times while inside it.

But you know what? It isn’t my job to smooth over an abrasive comment or make sure my ultra-conservative relative stays away from my ultra-liberal relative. It isn’t up to me to make a Browns fan see eye-to-eye with a Lions fan. It’s not your job either.

I vacuumed up the dog hair and iced the cookies. I made sure the time we gather over multiple days works for everyone. I’ve provided a lovely casserole, cookies, gift bags, and all the libations one could want. I’ve decorated my home, flocked my tree, and tuned the radio to classic Christmas songs. I am wearing a Christmas sweater, for Frost’s sake. And in another clutch move, I’m married to a great Ken who loves to concoct delicious Christmas entrees. (This Ken’s job is brisket.)

This is not to say I am in the midst of a rude or unfeeling family. It’s quite the opposite. They’re all really lovely people. But they’re still people. Diverse people. Outspoken people. Intelligent people who like to share their world views. This is all wonderful! But, combined with holiday stress, it can be a recipe for more holiday stress.

The English monk and poet John Lydgate is credited with saying, “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.” The ultimate stress comes from trying to please all the people all the time and, in the process, forgetting your holiday joy.

I overstated a bit. This Barbie isn’t quitting. I’m still in it, decking the halls and making merry, but as Gloria in the Barbie Movie said, “We have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.” It’s a lot.

Here’s the advice part for you, fellow Barbie. You can’t make other people happy. You can make cookies and have your Ken make a brisket. That’s it. You’re doing enough.

Forget holiday stress! Stop stressing about stressing out and have yourself the happiest of holidays. The rest of them will figure it out. Probably.

Originally Published in AAA Club Alliance

The post Barbie Quits Christmas appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

I was in a wardrobe conundrum. What does one wear to a summer outdoor wedding when one is over fifty? When choosing a look, how does one account for possible humidity, potential hot flashes, and a pandemic dependence on flip-flops with arch support?

Four hours at a local mall was a waste of time. My only purchase was a cookie.

On the wedding day, I stood in the elevator in a black dress with a blazer, defeated. This was an old work outfit. A woman who appeared to be my age entered the elevator and looked me up and down. “Going to a wedding?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Do you think this outfit is okay?” I was looking for reassurance from a stranger.

“What's the attire?”

“Cocktail.”

“Hmm, that can be anything from a prom dress to shorts. I've got a wedding tomorrow. Same thing. I'm wearing capris pants. It's probably wrong, right?”

“I don't know.”

“You look nice, but I'd call that business casual.”

“Thanks.”

We went our separate ways. She was right. I was more business-y than cocktail-y. My fellow wedding attendees in their gauzy floral sundresses were polite and did not mention it.

Now I'm in another wardrobe conundrum. After years of working from home, I shall return to an office setting.

I used to know how to dress for work and was rather good at it. In days of yore, business attire was my jam. Blazers, blouses, skirts, and suits—no problem! But that was one-thousand years ago, also known as the nineties. These days, business attire is a spectrum, and I do not know where I fit.

Indeed.com's guide to business attire outlines six versions of the most common business attire. Six. It begins with casual attire. Casual attire allows for T-shirts and jeans. If you want to wear open-toed shoes, go for it. While I'm a fan of my flip-flops, I just don't feel pulled together enough in beachwear at the office.

I step up the ladder to smart casual. In this dress style, you're adding a trendy extra to your casual outfit. Trendy is obviously my problem. Perhaps I should climb to the next tier, to business casual. With business casual, khakis are a staple. I hate khakis. This leads me to the top two tiers, business professional and business formal.

Let's start with business professional. Indeed.com describes it as, “A traditional form of attire used in more conservative settings or companies with strict dress codes. You might wear business professional in industries like finance, government, or law. Business professional clothes should be well-fitted and may be tailored to fit you specifically.” Okay, this is one I recognize. I used to dress this way. This might be it.

A look at the next tier, business formal, tells me that one only need to dress in business formal for award ceremonies, benefits, or other evening events. Okay, so that's out too.

With edicts of the business professional style in mind, I prepared for a meeting at my new work and grabbed one of the standby classic suits that hang in my closet. It was stiff, too formal, and as my mother used to say, “I looked like I was trying too hard.” Those old suits don't suit me anymore. Business professional doesn't fit me in this stage of life, even though I am going into the office.

See? A conundrum.

Then I found this quote from designer Miuccia Prada, “What you wear is how you present yourself to the world, especially today when human contacts are so quick. Fashion is instant language.”

My wardrobe, my instant language, as it were, needs to say, “Hello, I'm happy to be here, but it isn't my first day. I'm experienced.” My attire needs to communicate that I'm in my fifties, but confident! It needs to show that I'm up-to-date but also not swayed by passing fads. I want to wear classic clothes but also demonstrate that I understand it's not 1998. And above all else, my wardrobe needs to be free of Spandex.

I had no choice but to invent a category. Get ready, office, Business Mrs. Roper has entered the meeting. Let's get to work.

First Published in The Extra Mile for AAA

The post Business Mrs. Roper appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

It's back-to-school season. I know this because I have a raging case of hay fever that has flared up at this time of year every year since Laugh In was still on the air. The nuns at my elementary school had no choice but to conclude I was stoned when I showed up on the first day of school with my Charlie's Angels Lunch Box and blood-red eyes. Sister Evelyn said a Rosary for me, no doubt.

But sure, as backpacks and giant boxes of crayons fill the seasonal aisles at Target, my eyes are itching, so it must be time for the kids to return to classes. And while my eyes are red because they don't know how to react to – um – air, many of my mom friends are red-eyed from crying.

You see, I have mom friends with every aged kid. Some are grandmas, some have college kids, some high schoolers, and some are sending the little kinder to garten. Many of mom friends feel a little wistful when the babies step on the school bus. It’s common to lament sending a baby off to kindergarten. It’s a milestone for certain. And it's one of the first moments when you’re faced with definitive proof that the wish that they “just stay little” has not been granted.

I've been asked (since I'm a veteran) if “it gets better.” And after a pause to show that I hear them and understand, I have this response.

“Hail, yes, it gets better. Get over it.”

Blunt, but sometimes Mama needs tough love. I believe it’s important to allow yourself to cry for like three minutes. But as that bus rounds the corner and is out of sight, get your act together, sister. The whole point of teaching a toddler not to wear their underwear on their heads and how to operate a spoon is so they can get the heck out of the house for a few hours a day.

I get it. I do. I cried when my first child got on the school bus for “young fives” kindergarten. I followed that up by yelling at the rest of my family and a feverish couple of loads of laundry. I had a meltdown for an hour or so. I, like most mothers, worried that I didn't do enough to prepare him for bullies and Ven diagrams and how to manage putting a straw in a bag of Capri Sun unassisted. I worried my little sweetie would forget he was on the Tiger Bus and be dropped off in Hell's Kitchen. I worried about mean kids. Like I said, I get it. Also, sorry to say, some of the stuff you worry about will happen.

But moms, you've got to snap out of it.

Here are a few ideas to get through those first hours after you wave goodbye to the Tiger Bus. First up, this is not the time to peruse those scrapbooks and ponder the baby days. This is a time for you to think forward, now backward. Go get your hair done, clean something, or do like I did and enter a new career!

The same day my oldest went to his first day of school, I started a new job. It works for college, too. Set yourself up for something new and distracting to tackle in the wake of those big kid milestones. 

Before you know it, three o'clock will be here. Your little tot will disembark the Tiger Bus with his shorts on sideways and jelly stains on his cheeks. Or, in the case of my little one, sleeping because young fives kindergarten is tiring y'all.

They'll get off that bus, and you'll be pressed back into service to break up a dispute with the younger one, find double-a batteries, wipe something, remove something from somewhere, or all of the above at once. You'll be glad you got your hair done or did something non-mommy related during those precious few moments when your child was “out there” in the big world, sipping Capri Sun with the aid of the lunch lady.  

And keep in mind, it's just kindergarten. You have another ten or fifteen minutes before they leave for college and stop answering your texts. 

First Published in The Extra Mile for AAA

The post Advice for Moms of Kindergarteners appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

What it Takes to Become the Family Car Shopping Expert

Like most of us, the first couple of cars I drove were my parents’ cars. You learned, tried not to scuff anything, and were used to changing the radio station from the oldies to today’s hits.

My dad is a self-described “car guy.” He loves cars. He loves shopping for cars, researching cars, test-driving cars, looking at cars, talking about cars, and opining about future automobile purchases. If any member of his family is test-driving a car, it’s a personal insult to him if you don’t drive it over to his house so he can take a look. He worked in the auto industry, so it wasn’t just his hobby. It was his livelihood. 

Let’s just call him Car Dad.

My husband is not a car guy. For him, the car gets him where he’s going. He wants it to be reliable, affordable, and black. Every car he’s driven since the late nineties has been black.

Let’s just call him Not Car Husband.

Back to those first few cars in my life, I drove what my dad told me to drive. He was the decision-maker and had the checkbook. This suited me just fine.

Later, once I was married to Not Car Husband, I learned that if it got us there, it didn’t matter if it was cool, fast, or classic. I had two small children and a high-pressure career. Not Car Husband making the car decisions suited me just fine. 

I didn’t take charge of this aspect of life until well into my thirties. After a lifetime of sitting in the back seat of car shopping, I finally took the wheel. I suppose I’m a late bloomer. So there I was, in the market for a vehicle. I was determined not to lean on Car Dad or Not Car Husband when it came to this big purchase.

Buying my first car, without the input of my Car Dad and my Not Car Husband, saw me driving off the lot in an early Jeep Liberty. The television news business has no snow days, and my first-ever, four-wheel drive got me to work in every weather condition. The Jeep suited my needs and fit my budget. Also, it was cute.

The success of that decision bolstered my confidence in my abilities as a savvy car consumer. I haven’t taken Car Dad or Not Car Husband along for decades. Also, I’m good at it. So much so that when my sons wanted to buy their first few cars, they came to me. 

I’m Car Mom!

Car Mom understands a few things. She gets that your favorite color is red. But that’s not the point. Is this a vehicle for quick commutes? Do you need to drive across the state on a regular basis? Do you need good pickup, or are you into pickup trucks? Leather interiors are nice. They also make your backside sweaty. What’s your cash flow like? Do you need good gas mileage or space to haul?

Car Mom diverges from Car Dad in that Car Dad has loved some of his cars so much he’s afraid to drive them lest they get a dreaded scuff. Car Mom recognizes that her sons aren’t too particular when it comes to crumbs. Good to know when they try to upsell that fancy interior.

Car Mom diverges from Not Car Husband in appreciating that cars are cool! While you might not be in love with your car, some bells and whistles can make you ridiculously happy.

Car Mom prioritizes safety over speed. Car Mom won’t be pressured. She’s learned which car dealerships treat you well and which salesmen are condescending. Car Mom has the personal cellphone of the dealership owner. Car Mom wants you to like the car but won’t let you blow your budget.

Car Mom would love you to take her along the next time you go car shopping. Or at least on the test drive. But she won’t be offended if you don’t. Car Mom is cool.

Car Mom likes the radio on the eighties station. No, I said the eighties station, not the oldies station. What? Oh, ha ha. Now let’s get you into a vehicle.

First Published in AAA The Extra Mile

The post Car Mom appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

Every guest wants to bring the perfect gift. But sometimes, that is easier said than done, even with a registry as your guide.

I’ve been married a long time and have quite a few friends in the same boat. Looking around my house, I’m hard-pressed to find any wedding gifts that survived. But, a few items were home runs, and I still use them today.

Four words: CorningWare French White Bakeware. I have all three pieces with lids. They’ve contained mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving, vegetables at dinner, dry rice and a wet cellphone, and a casserole that actually won a contest. They’ve been used thousands of times. They were on my registry. I silently thank the giver each time I pull them out of the cupboard. And to my twenty-two-year-old self I say, “Nice job putting those on the list.” Boss move, given I’d never made a casserole at that age.

There aren’t many things I knew for sure back then, but I did know I’d never be a “Good China” kind of gal. I also knew white dishes and linens were a sure bet. The surviving white pieces have coordinated well with the millions of decor styles I’ve traversed. They fit nicely in my faux Tuscan phase and my faux industrial farmhouse phase. They still work, now that I’m in my faux transitional phase.

I surveyed my friends to find out more about their weird and wonderful wedding gifts.

A clear winner in the weird category was a package of socks. In hindsight, the socks proved useful, but as a wedding gift? Another friend received five electric woks on her wedding day. Five. She must have put off a very strong, pro-stir-fry vibe. On the upside, four of her friends received electric woks for Christmas that year, so it worked out. Another reported that they received a single blue dinner plate. She is still scratching her head.

I received a set of sheets that weren’t my “colors” or the size that fit our mattress. I was young. I didn’t realize that an extra set of sheets is always useful. Especially once kids enter the picture.

Then there’s the flip side: What was your best wedding gift?

When it comes to giving wedding gifts, there are only two slam-dunk choices. Either get something that’s on the registry or give the happy couple cash. But above all, don’t judge. As one with lots of life experience, it’s tempting to tell a young couple that the odds of using asparagus tongs are low, but hey, they want a set of asparagus tongs. Or, to conclude they know that a popcorn maker is superfluous. We all have different dreams.

Some of us cannot be bound by a list. And it turns out, some of the best wedding gifts aren’t on anyone’s list.

One friend got a card table and chairs. They didn’t register for the set, but in life, you won’t regret having a card table and chairs in the basement. Another friend received a box fan. I mean, yes, right? One bride opened a set of luggage on her special day. She said they used the heck out of that luggage! Another bride received a crystal vase that she didn’t want or need. And now, whenever she gets flowers, she thinks of her wedding. Tears welled in my eyes when I learned that. Or get this, a friend of mine received a framed copy of the sheet music from her wedding song. I really want to steal that idea.

Back to the practical, one friend received a step stool. Who doesn’t need a step stool? Another couple— each one preparing for their second marriage—requested that friends purchase gift cards to the local nursery. They were able to plant a pretty landscape at their newly combined home. I really loved that one, too.

The bottom line is gratitude. You may not know you need an extra set of sheets or a lone blue dinner plate, but you do!

Originally Published in AAA The Extra Mile

The post How I Discovered the Perfect if UNEXPECTED Wedding Gift appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.

Growing up, going on vacation included hours of sitting in the “way back” of a station wagon with my sister until we got “there.” “There” could be anywhere from Florida to Gettysburg to Niagara Falls.

This was the 1970s, and unlike today's parents, adults didn't spend too much (any) time or energy fretting about entertaining children. As we weren't a license-plate-game-playing family, a road trip meant my sister and I were on our own to manage our boredom. We were expected to be quiet about it. Typically, we played Barbies until we got “there.” Sometimes we’d pass the time not throwing up.

My dad enjoyed pointing out historic locations. He expected us to revere their historical significance as we zoomed past at whatever maximum speed was achievable in a Mercury Villager Compact Station Wagon with a luggage carrier strapped to the roof. (So, maybe we were doing 45 mph?) My dad would become agitated when we did not appear to appreciate history.

“This is HISTORY!” he'd exclaim in frustration. He'd gesticulate out the window toward a battlefield or landmark. My mom struggled to keep the peace by telling my dad we were playing “Revolutionary War Barbies.”

That's how we road-tripped in the 1970s. No seatbelts, cup holders, or screens. So basically, a nightmare.

My own kids had screens, of course. I can report that Disney's “Beauty and the Beast” can be viewed 13 times while driving from Michigan to Florida. I did not do the license plate game with my kids, either. But lest you think it was all screens, we have devised a great way to pass the time on a long road trip. This is something family members of any age can enjoy.

WELCOME TO ROAD TRIP DEBATES!
That's right, find a topic and spend hours debating it. The license plate game can't hold a candle to this discourse. Now I'm not talking about religion or politics. If you want to get “there” with all your digits, stay away from those hot buttons.

Here are some examples of our road trip debates. Adapt them to suit your family!

First up, which fast food chain is the best fast food chain? You are going to have an answer immediately.  To you, this answer is immutable. Scientific. Logical. Correct. But I guarantee if more than two people are in the vehicle, someone will be diametrically opposed to your truth. This debate over the best fast food chain began, for our family, in 2013. It's ongoing.

Those with sons might understand how this next debate topic emerged. The question is: Who would win in a fight…Dad's friends or the youngest son's friends? My husband affirms that his friends are tougher, stronger, and larger than my son's friends. I have pointed out that if it was a time-travel situation, my husband's friends could likely win in a fist-a-cuff with my son's friends. But my husband insists no age allowance be granted. His position is that his friends, all in their fifties, could “wipe the floor” with my son's twenty-something chums. This is bold, considering it is typical for several of those twenty-somethings to be in the vehicle during this pronouncement, while none of his fifty-something friends know they're in this hypothetical fight. Speed, street smarts, strategy, and disposition are all considered in the matchup.

If you prefer not to debate about a hypothetical fistfight, we've also turned our attention to settling more peaceful matters.

As miles roll by, we've hashed out a ranking of the top three Disney cartoons. We've asked: What side dish is expendable for Thanksgiving dinner? We've outlined extensive data to organize our favorite actors into two categories: movie star or artist. We've ranked all movies starring Tom Cruise. None of these topics are officially resolved, as dissent lives on.

The goal is for each person on the road trip to reflect on the topic, defend their position, never compromise, and then contribute to beating that topic into the ground. Engage the family in a road trip debate and you'll be “there” before you know it. You'll never want to talk to these people ever again, but time will fly. Remember that “these people,” may very well be your closest loved ones.
On second thought, maybe just do the license plate game or play Barbies.

Originally Published in AAA Club Alliance

The post Road Trip Debate Family Fun appeared first on Rebecca Regnier.