Rather than give up my built-in LED, I decided to look around for a quick-fix.

Scotch tape, even layers of it, didn’t do much to mute the powerful little lamp. But, after a bit more experimentation I found that a little bit of electrical tape over the tip of the light (see pic) cuts down the overall brightness and keeps the LED from shining directly in my eyes when holding the book in most of my normal reading positions.

The tape is also so thin and secure that it allows the light to still properly fold into the case when it isn’t needed.

If you have a Kindle case with an overly-obnoxious built-in LED reading light, try this little electrical tape trick. In the future, it would be nice if the LED was designed in a way that the light is directed more effectively away from the reader’s eyes and onto the page. A dimmer would also be a nice addition (hint, hint Amazon!).

Here are the 5 things I believe are necessary to attain and maintain happiness in any marriage, no matter how long you’ve been together:

1. Communication – Is there an elephant in the room? Don’t let there be if you want to stay satisfied with your mate. Talk about everything from work to sex to whatever you saw in the daily news. Tell each other about your friends. Listen when your spouse is talking to you. If you cannot effectively communicate with one another you union will likely not last.
2. Intimacy - Do it! Yes, that. Have sex on a regular basis (whatever “regular” is to you and your spouse. Communicate to find out!). Role play. Talk about your fantasies. Get funky, go forth, and fornicate. It brings you closer, boosts confidence, and sends all kinds of good hormones flowing through your bodies.
3. Trust – Do you worry about whether or not your spouse might be cheating? That worry alone is stress on your relationship. Trust lifts the weight of that stress. Let go of unnecessary jealousy and let each other flirt knowing that you’re going home to each other. Communicate and define your boundaries as a couple and you’ll be just fine.
4. Compliments - Tell your partner on a daily basis that you think he or she is sexy, beautiful, smart, etc. Notes are nice if you can’t be there in person for some reason, but they work best coming straight from your lips to your spouses ear. (I have a card on my dresser’s mirror from Chris telling me how sexy I am in beautiful script. It’s a fantastic daily reminder!) Make sure the nice words are genuine, and don’t allow the relationship to become one-sided in this respect.
5. Spontaneous Kindness – Surprise your spouse by picking up a chore that you don’t usually do, bringing home a present or carry-out dinner out of the blue, or taking them out on a spontaneous date that you think he or she might like. Don’t get caught in a rut of day-in-day-out chores and work. Keep some spontaneity alive to stoke the happiness factor. 

So there you have it. Try your best to adhere to these 5 things, but know that no marriage is perfect. When you have a problem, communicate about it. If either of you screws up (and you will, periodically, still take each other for granted and not be the greatest partners in the world), forgive. And, remember, nobody is perfect, and no relationship is perfect either.

Do you have any special secrets to keep your marriage alive for years to come? Feel free to share them in the comments.

It’s a little bit like the Gawker commenter system in that you must “try out” to be a commenter. That is simply to keep the spam and abusive people (yeah, some people aren’t even spammers, they just suck) to a bare minimum around here, and I think that is something we can all appreciate. Don’t get too turned off by that though. Once you’ve made it through your first comment, it’s free-wheeling fun from there. You’ll be free to post as you wish with instant results and a very light moderating hand.

It’s unfortunate, and I don’t completely enjoy doing it, but I really think it is for the best. You don’t want to read spam or downright sad, abusive behavior (and if you do you’re have to go elsewhere).

So patience, my friends. I know that moderated feeling can be a bit of a turn-off for first timers, but stick with me here and it will be worth it! If you are worthy*

*Note: I’m not all that strict, so please don’t let this freak you out.

I wanted an Air, but damn those things are expensive. So, when the going gets tough, the tough head to Craigslist (right?)!. 375 smackers plus my husband’s technical prowess and haggling skills, and the baby was mine on Saturday.

It was dirty. The bottom was black and the computer itself is supposed to be white. A little Windex and some alcohol and Q-tips for the keyboard, and she was almost good as new. The only thing I may do is get a skin to cover up the external case scratches. They do, of couse, add character, however. Maybe I’ll keep it plain.

Hubby was also nice enough to give me his Magic Pad. Ergonomically, it’s like a dream for me.

As far as specs go, I now have a 2.16 GHz Core 2 Duo and 4 GB RAM. My programs run so much more smoothly and the user interface has been relatively easy to learn.

A mac-using friend asked me if I feel superior now that I’m working on a Mac. I must admit that it does make me a bit smug-feeling. Maybe it’s the quality of the hardware? “That superiority complex comes free with every Mac,” he told me.

This is, however, only day one of me working on the machine. We’ll see how it goes from here. Will I ever go back to Windows, or will I be a Mac convert forever?

My grandfather was not there, but rather off deer hunting with his brother-in-law, my great uncle Bill. I don’t ever remember them catching a deer during their hunting mornings, but those are two men who loved being at one with nature and probably just enjoyed sitting quietly in the Upstate NY wilderness for hours on end. My dad was probably out hunting with one of his brothers or brothers-in-law too.

I would just spend the morning watching my grandmother prepare her Thanksgiving feast: Oven roasted turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, broccoli with cheese sauce, coleslaw, fresh rolls, an olive tray, fruit and nut bowls, and pumpkin pies. In stark contrast to all of that deliciousness were a couple of foods that you couldn’t get me to touch with a 10-foot pole without gagging: the bowl of bright orange mush otherwise known as winter squash, and the can-shaped glob of gelatinous cranberry sauce.

Dinner would be set for 2PM. My parents would arrive a bit late, much to my grandmother’s chagrin, and maybe there would be some other family there, but these were the days before I had any close cousins to speak of. I was usually the only kid hanging around.

After dinner, we would watch a movie (never football or sports) and stuff ourselves with pie and candy and maybe some ice cream, bellies heaving with each breath. Alice’s Restaurant was always a popular film of choice. I would sit on the couch and drift in and out of a food-induced coma.

That was our Thanksgiving, and it was always my favorite holiday when I was a kid.

Throughout the years things have changed a lot: My grandfather passed away in 1984, I moved out of the area in 1994, and my parents moved to Phoenix in 2006. I now have four beautiful younger cousins, one of them with a new baby of her own!

This Thanksgiving, I am planning on having my parents over to my Mesa home and eating Chinese take-out because of the ease and accessibility. Football will likely be the viewing entertainment of choice, thanks to my husband, Chris.

Today, Thanksgiving Eve, I took part in a community potluck at Gangplank, and got to eat a delicious dinner featuring deep-fried turkey, plenty of potatoes and cheese, and an array of desserts that would be enough to sustain one person for months. Community participants brought their spouses and children who don’t ordinarily come out for events. It was a great day of food and friends.

Even though it’s nothing close to the Thanksgiving of my childhood, I’m thankful that I have plenty of good people in my life to share the holidays with this year. I’ll still remember the holidays of old in my dreams.

What is that supposed to mean to me? Am I supposed to drop everything I currently have on my agenda to complete the assigned work? Is tomorrow okay? What if I am booked for the rest of the week with other client work and can’t get to yours until the next? When I’ve already asked for a due date, why should I have to do the extra follow-up to clarify what ASAP means in this context?

I do understand that ASAP is an acronym for “As soon as possible,” but this is quite vague, and likely means something different to each of us. I can guarantee that your project rates much more highly in your own life than it does in mine. Please, tell me how important it is by showing me a hard schedule of goals for completion that I can work with.

I’d like to challenge all of you to communicate more effectively and be specific instead of using vague terms that can easily be misinterpreted.

What, my dear readers, does ASAP mean to you?

After giving the newspaper a try again, however, when my husband ordered us a 4 day/week subscription of The Arizona Republic, I’m finding that I’ve been missing a lot of local news by relying on websites to supply me with current information.

For example, here are some interesting things I learned from yesterday’s Republic Valley & State section:

• 330 orphaned children in Maricopa County were adopted by permanent families Saturday as part of the county Court’s participation in National Adoption Day. The event was staffed by 60 judicial officers who volunteered their time for the hearing. In addition, they had informational stations for families interested in adopting in the future. What’s not to love about this?

• The City of Chandler is replacing 340 aging Tasers for their police force at a price of $471,028. Their current models are 8 years old, out of warranty, and are having battery issues. The average life-span of a Taser, according to the company, is only 5 years. It’s interesting to note that the devices are rarely used by officers, and one officer reports only using his four times in his decade of service.

• The new Arizona Senate leader, Steve Pierce, is a Republican, a rancher on long-held family property in Tucson, married 38 years, and sounds like a pretty down-to-earth, hard-working person. “I have lots of new friends,” Pierce told attendees at the Arizona Tax Research Association’s annual conference last week. “They all want to come in and see me. I don’t know most of them,” he admitted.

• Ready Pac salad mixes with a sell by date of Nov 18th have been recalled for E Coli contamination.

• The Arizona International Auto Show is this weekend at the Phoenix Convention Center, and the Republic has coupons for $3 off admission.

• A job with Maricopa County Child Protective Services starts at a meager salary of $33,000, alleges editorial writer Steven Kars of Phoenix. If he’s correct, that is indeed sad. “Why would anyone take a job with CPS?” Kars asks. For the love of children, I hope.

And this is just a small sample of the news printed in the section, which I’d likely not known about otherwise. Some of it may have been on their website, but I’m guilty of headline-skimming online. It’s just a different reading style on paper.

Now, mind you, some of the reasons I was missing out before are my own fault. I’ve lived in several states around the US in my adult life and got used to reading more on a national level. It usually takes me a while to get into the local culture of a community, which a local newspaper usually heavily reflects. The Binghamton Press & Sun Bulletin is small town and somewhat kitschy, while the Columbus Dispatch definitely reads more like a large city paper, but one studded with college football fever, something which took me some time to understand. I’ve now been in the Phoenix area for over two years. I’m beginning to feel settled and more interested in things outside of my current community and comfort level. I think I’m finally ready to call the area my “home.”

Please note that while I highly advocate the use of local newspapers, local news on the networks is an entirely different thing. I often find the broadcasts to be cheesy and melodramatic, likely going for ratings than any sort of mission to educate or inform the public.

Where do you get your local news? Why?

So, what’s a person to do when faced with such a dilemma? Gretchen Rubin, the author of The Happiness Project, published a blog post this week addressing this very issue. She has “Tips for Faking It,” not all of which I find very effective. They are:

• You thought you knew, but you don’t

“I keep wanting to call you ‘David,’ but I know that’s not right.” – I’ve done this before, but I don’t think it’s the most graceful way to handle the situation. If someone said this to me, I would get the impression that they were actually recalling someone else. Not terribly offensive though.

•  Fish it out of ‘em with flattery

“Hey, I’d love to get your card.” – The premise for this is stalling until you can see the person’s name on the card, and flattering them while you ask. A bit underhanded, IMO. I like to ask for a card at the end of a conversation.

“Wow, you have a terrific memory. I can’t believe you remember my name from that meeting six months ago. I can’t remember the names of people I met yesterday! So of course I have to ask you your name.” – Fine, tell ‘em they have a terrific memory and that you are flattered that they remembered yours. Leave all that other self-deprecating crap out though. It makes you look bad.

• Claiming you know but have a temporary memory block  

 “I know I know your name, but I’m blanking right now.” – I really don’t like this one. I think it just sounds tacky, though I know I’ve said it to people before. Just say that you don’t remember.

 “Remind me—what’s your last name?” – The premise here is that if they say their first and last names in their reply, problem solved. This is kind of silly. Just ask what they like to be called in casual conversation.

•  Let intros take their own course

“Hey,” you say to the person whose name you can’t remember, “let me introduce you to Pat Smith.” You introduce the two and say the name of the person whose name you remember. Almost always, the nameless person will volunteer his or her name. – I have to admit that I’ve done this too, especially when someone comes up before I can admit to my memory failure. But I don’t like it. I like to do introductions properly. It’s the polite thing to do. Ask the person their name and intro them first, then follow with the people you know. It’s less awkward that way.

Why all the games? Is it so terrible if we cannot remember someone’s name after a first meeting? I tend to meet several people per week and not see them again for several weeks or months. It’s natural to forget when you don’t have that interaction from day-to-day.

Though I do feel a bit bad when I forget a person’s name, however, I’m not offended at all when people don’t remember mine (unless, of course, we’ve known each other well for some time, in which case I’ll probably wonder what’s wrong more so than taking offense).

I’m curious, my readers, about what you do and feel in such situations?

I snagged that notebook from him and have been making daily entries about the joys in my life ever since. The point is to shove all of life’s bullshit as far away as possible and concentrate on only the good. Every day I think back to the day prior and find at least one thing that provided me with some happiness and record it under the date. There is always something.

The point of the Happiness Journal is to have something that I can turn to whenever I am in a funk or downright depression, those times when I think everything sucks, and be reminded of the good things that life has dealt to me. The notebook sits on my coffee table all of the time so that it is easy to remember to write in and read. It’s simple, only taking a couple of minutes per day to do, and it works.

This is a great time of year to start your own Happiness Journal with Thanksgiving right around the corner. A friend embarked on a similar project at the beginning of the month tracking daily the things that she is thankful for. According to her, the practice of recording the positive things has lifted her spirits as well.

So if you’re in need of a little reminder that good things do happen to you once in a while, start your own Happiness Journal in a notebook or online. If you do, please let me know how it works for you.

I’ve been taking a number of medications on a fairly regular basis for the better part of the last few years due to my spinal fusion and worsening joint and muscle pains throughout my body (in addition to several other symptoms, many stemming from the effects of chronic pain, I would think). This, however, is different.

After my physician at AZ Arthritis and Rheumatology Associates gave me my diagnosis last Friday (Hypermobility Syndrome & Central Sensitivity Syndrome), she looked at me and said, “would you rather take all the pills or feel like shit?”

I appreciated that kind of directness from my doc, and promptly chose the former. Since then, I have diligently been taking a daily regimen of 13 pills, including painkillers, anti-inflammatory meds, muscle relaxers, and some mental heath drugs thrown in to help the attitude) over 4 regular intervals. That’s a lot of freakin’ pills — 91 over the course of a week, and 364 in just one month. So I ordered one of these babies from Amazon, downloaded the Pillboxie app for my iPhone and got organized.

This feels really strange to me, because the last time I did this was when I was caring for a hospice patient.

BUT, I will say that it feels good! I’m no longer stressing myself out and worrying that I’m a pill junkie, for one thing. The doc has told me outright to take these meds regularly. Also, the consistent medication has had a positive effect on my symptoms so far.

So, if your doc gives you meds, for heaven’s sake, take them as directed. Consistently. Don’t give into the “pills are bad” stigma. Sure, there are some side effects (hello dry mouth and constipation), but my original complaints were much worse than those are. I’ll live with that. Hopefully, a very long time.