Operation Nice

I am no saint by any stretch of the imagination. But I am generally nice. It doesn’t take much to be nice. Even if you, like me, frequently despair for the future of the human race due to all around ignorance and obtuseness, I find that in one-on-one situations, I am far more inclined to be nice than not.

This is why I was absolutely gutted when two strangers, without any provocation, recently criticized me on a blogging site. I hadn’t asked for a critique, but I sure enough got one. And it wasn’t pretty. It actually felt mean spirited to me, and senseless. It made me cry. Because any feedback I have ever gotten for my blog has been positive. My blog, and its readers, have been among the only consistently good things in my life over the past two and a half years. I’ve lost jobs, I’ve had multiple unsuccessful surgeries on my broken shoulder, I have been in constant pain and Multiple Sclerosis has progressed, but my readers have held me up time and again with endless encouragement and love.

To have two strangers tell me I sounded annoying and boring was crushing. It wasn’t asked for. It wasn’t called for. And it wasn’t very nice.

I have read some blogs that were practically illiterate they were so bad. I have seen people write some really stupid things. But I would never tell the writers that, ever. The fact that they make the attempt to get out there is a brave act by itself. Who am I to criticize them? It is a classic case of having nothing good to say, I will say nothing at all. Why would I deliberately hurt someone in that way?

While still smarting from the unsolicited disparagement (ok, obsessing; happy?!?), I accidentally came across a blog created by a girl right here in New Jersey. It is called Operation Nice, subtitled Encouraging Individuals to be Proactively Nice. Right, an accident. Once again, when I am at a low point, I have had something put in my path that reminds me there is the potential for much goodness in the world.

Melissa’s blog contains stories of people being extraordinarily nice, not simply holding the door for someone. Her sidebars are loaded with tips and ideas for being nice, including this one: “Paying someone a compliment can actually decrease your level of anxiety.” Her philosophy is a simple one. We improve the world one kind encounter at a time.

I will never tell someone “the whiny intro here certainly doesn't do anything to inspire anyone to take an interest in your blog”. Or that their blog evoked “shrugs” after reading “a few sentences”. There is absolutely nothing to be gained in saying that to someone. I would rather be part of Operation Nice.

Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

A Sheep and Baby Jesus Fracas

There is a basket under my desk full of what I like to call my prototypes. Things I am working on that haven’t quite come out the way I intended and need a little more work. Or need to be thrown away. It depends on your perspective. My 25 year old daughter Mary Kate eschews the word “prototype”. She calls them “fiascos that no one in their right mind would ever be interested in buying”.

Fiasco-shmiasco. Everybody’s a critic.

If I am making something and she comes in the room and bursts out laughing, it goes right into the prototype basket. Just hedging my bets.

One item in the basket is my personal favorite, although it is still in the “prototype” stage. I plan on calling it A Heap of Sheep, which I think is endlessly clever and hilarious. Mary Kate says “That is the stupidest thing I ever heard.” Pffft. What does she know?

Anyway, my idea is to have three little graduated stuffed sheep, one on top of the other, as a pin cushion. I sewed them, stuffed them, stitched them together and added two vintage wooden spools instead of legs to stand them on. There is one little hiccup. If you try to stick a pin in them, they fall over. So I’m still working on it. I don’t know how I expect to defy gravity, but I am nothing if not determined.



The other day I was sewing and Mary Kate had nothing better to do than torture me. She rummaged through my prototype basket and pulled something out.

MK: What is this?
Me: That’s my Heap of Sheep (explained what it was)
MK: That is the stupidest thing I ever heard.
Me: No it’s not. It’s clever and funny and practical.
MK: But they don’t look like sheep.
Me: Well, they are representative of sheep.
MK: They don’t even look like representatives of sheep. They don’t look like anything living.
Me: Yes they do, they look like sheep.
MK: But they don’t have faces or ears.
Me: Yes they do, those black pieces of felt glued right there.
MK: You mean the things that look like bullets?
Me: They’re faces.
MK: They are nothing like faces. They’re bullets. And anyway, sheep are soft and fuzzy.
Me: Well those are. (I had used natural cotton batting with brown flecks through it)
MK: No, they’re not. What is this stuff anyway?
Me: It’s cotton batting.
MK: You made sheep out of…cotton?
Me: Well I thought it looked like, you know, sheep covering.
MK: Sheep covering? Do you mean…wool?
Me: Yes.
MK: ha ha ha ha ha Sheep covering!! ha ha ha ha ha
Me: Go away.

I kept working on them, trying different things. I was in my room the other day and Mary Kate was at my desk in the den. She called out.

MK: What are these things? Finger covers?
Me (to myself): Curses! Forgot to put away my sewing. (to MK): mumble mumble mumble
MK: What?
Me (yelling): sigh THEY’RE SHEEP FACES!!
MK: ha ha ha ha ha ha

Harrumph. I still think my Heap of Sheep is brilliant.

So anyway, I made an Advent calendar for my grandson.





Someone with an ounce of common sense would plan to fill the pockets with coins or Hershey’s Kisses. But not me. No, I planned to make 25 little felt ornaments.

Felt, that ubiquitous material that even three year olds can manage, is very hard to work with. It stretches, it tears, it doesn’t have the give fabric does. It is very unforgiving. I say this in advance, in my own defense.

The little ornaments were not going well.

I finally got a few made when down swooped The Critic.

MK: ha ha ha ha What is this?
Me (grimly, through gritted teeth): It’s baby Jesus
MK: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA What part of THIS is baby Jesus?!?!
Me (weakly): It’s abstract.
MK: ha ha ha ha It’s not abstract, it’s Pac Man. It’s Pac Man gobbling up a Communion wafer.

Now that even made me laugh.

You decide:





Guess what? Shep is going to have coins and Hershey’s Kisses in his Advent calendar.