TOMS shoes...killer cause, killer Christmas gift!!

I read a great article on the NPR website about Blake Mycoskie, a fabulous young entrepreneur who founded a company called Tom shoes.  I was impressed by this article because he is just a little older than me and is doing what I only dream of.  He is making a huge impact in our world one pair of shoes at a time.  Blake is a well-traveled visionary who has made himself quite a success.  He is without question an amazing role model, and a hero to many.

            Blake started his entrepreneurial spirit when he was in college at Southern Baptist University.  His first venture was a laundry service that he started with some college buddies.  The business really took off.  Blake continued creating successful businesses but wasn’t satisfied with just working in business.   He needed to feed his sense of adventure, so he set of to travel the globe.

            He ended up in Argentina traveling around the country, learning to dance and making a grim realization.  Most of the people in the areas he was visiting didn’t have shoes.  He saw a great need here because peoples feet were getting cut up, bruised, and kids were not able to attend school without proper footwear.  Being an natural entrepreneur and feeling the drive to make a difference, Blake’s wheel’s began to turn.  In no time he had found somebody to create a replica of a traditional Argentinian shoe worn by both the upper and lower classes.  His venture was underway!

            Blake began to sell his shoes with the promise that for every shoe he sold today in the states, tomorrow one would be given to a person in need.  This is how he came up with the name for his company, TOMS.  It’s funny because everybody assumes that there is some guy around named Tom, there is not.  Blake says that everyone involved is a Tom.  He currently employs 100+ “toms” to work for the company.  Most of them are young, motivated, and politically minded folks, all with the desire to make a difference on shoe at a time.  The company now shoes people from not only Argentina, but also South Africa, Latin America, Haiti, and other impoverished countries.  His initial promise has grown from 250 pairs of shoe to be donated, and now the company has given away more than a million pairs to people in need.

            I loved this story, I felt genuinely inspired to see somebody so young and motivated make a difference in such a seemingly simple way.  The shoes by design are pretty basic, but very trendy in a social way.  It has always been “in” to do the right thing and be a caring, giving person and these shoes help to fit the bill.  You can be fashionable and get something you are going to need anyway, and be doing a great service to humanity all by buying a simple pair of shoes.  This definitely made me make a few changes to my Christmas shopping list.  I know a couple of folks who would be more than happy to support such an amazing cause and look killer doing it!

Come on pharmaceutical companies!

I am sure if you have been watching the world news or reading the paper you are aware of the worsening conditions in Haiti.  The cholera epidemic in is spreading across the impoverished country like wildfire, and will surely be spreading to other Caribbean countries in no time.  This already poor country was ravished by natural disaster, and now faces a terrifying epidemic that has already killed more than a thousand and has no signs of slowing.  How cholera is spread, what are we doing to prevent it, and why there isn’t enough vaccine?

Cholera is a disease caused by bacteria that affects the intestines.   It causes dehydration, diarrhea, vomiting, and in one out of 20 cases, according to MedicineNet.com, death.  This disease is most commonly found in areas with poor water filtration and third world food standards.  It is spread when feces from an infected person contaminates the food or water supply.  In a country like Haiti with the conditions they are currently under it is no surprise that the disease is running amok.  Haiti’s water conditions were terrible before the hurricanes and earthquake hit.  Now they are unimaginable.   The relief efforts are a raindrop in the ocean of what really needs to be happening.

The WHO, world health organization, is making small strides to put an end to the epidemic by gathering all of the available vaccine for approval and shipment.  The only trouble here is that there is only enough vaccine to vaccinate 250,000 people.  The population of Haiti alone is just under 10 million.  If it becomes more than just Haiti’s problem, which it certainly could, we would have no vaccine to inoculate anybody.  Which leads us to wonder, why isn’t there enough vaccine?

In an article on NPR’s website, they bring up the valid issue of money.  Why would a for-profit drug company create mass amounts of a drug which prevents a disease that only affects that world’s poorest and underdeveloped corners?  Their goal is to make money not save lives right?  This is a scary thought.  I am certain there are more than 250,000 doses of morphine available, but not enough to stop an epidemic that kills more than 100,000 people a year that could be entirely prevented altogether with vaccination. 

I know money plays a factor and the drug is not free to make, but I think the drug companies make enough money off of people that they could do something for the benefit of the human race as a whole.  I wait tables at a restaurant and most nights of the week you could find a drug company buttering up some doctors and giving a presentation of their newest greatest drug.  In my estimations if they had a soul they would forgo those dinners for some humanitarian effort.  If one company stopped having those presentations alone in one month on average they could have saved 700 lives.  That is only one presentation dinner a week for a month.  Four dinners to save 700 lives, I bet that would make any doctor lose his appetite.

How to Make God Giggle final

  How to Make God Giggle

            You can plan for a lot of things.  You plan a vacation, a party, even your pregnancy.  That is exactly what I thought I had done for my pregnancy, “plan”.  I planned on the sex of my child, the type of childbirth I would have.   I planned on the midwife that would deliver my baby.  I planned on a warm, dark room, with my favorite music playing in the background as I toughed out the birthing pains without the use of pain medicine.  Somebody told me once, “Want to make God laugh?  Tell him your plans!”.  On July 24th I am sure I heard God laugh.

                The day started out innocent enough.  I rolled my body, eight months pregnant and swollen, out of bed.  I got dressed and ready and walked down the stairs to meet my cousin, Ali, and her son, Silas.  I had planned on tagging along with them to a couple of Silas’s doctor appointments.  This day was so perfect and beautiful that we had decided to travel the two miles from my house to the hospital on foot.  During our walk, I started to feel a little funny.  The heat that had felt so good in my front yard was suddenly a little too much.  We turned back and grabbed the car.  We arrived at the hospital and went to the first appointment without incident.  On the way through the hospital, to appointment number two, we stopped to use the restroom; this is where I realized something was not right.  I went to the bathroom as usual, but I couldn’t stop going to the bathroom.  I thought at first something was wrong with my bladder control.  It didn’t take long to realize the problem was not my bladder, but, that in fact, my water had broken.  I assumed it was normal.  Being a month early and never having had a child before, I thought perhaps I had just missed this chapter in the book, or maybe this is the false labor I had read about; surely, there was a rational explanation.  This was where the flood gates opened.  I thought I heard God snicker.

                While it may have been a great thing to be at a hospital when you go into labor a month early, we were at the wrong hospital.  We left the hospital and headed to my house to pack my bags, and head to the right hospital.  I was calm at this point, I was ready for anything.  I had spent months bonding with this person inside me, and I was ready to meet him; I had even fallen in love with him.  I had picked out the perfect name and was ready to put a face to this little stranger that I had come to know so well.  My best friend, birthing coach, and for all intents and purposes, my temporary husband, Amanda drove me to the hospital.  Maybe the timing wasn't perfect, but surely from here out everything would be just as I had planned it.

                We arrived at the hospital and headed for the labor and delivery floor.  After finding out that, in fact, it was my water that broke, I got the most devastating news thus far in my pregnancy, I had to have a cesarean section.  Not only would I be going into surgery, but my midwife was not available for the delivery.  What?  I had planned on a natural, drug-free childbirth, under the care of a midwife I had come to know very well over the previous few months.  While I had remained calm and resilient thus far, this took me over the edge, I was nearly inconsolable.   Amanda, in all of her strength and wisdom, managed to calm me down and remind me that it didn’t matter how he came as long as he was safe healthy.  I was prepped for surgery and carried on a gurney to the operating room.

                The operating room was cold and sterile, I was terrified, and this was certainly not in the plan.  The epidural, that I had vowed not to use, was administered.  While waiting for the drugs to take effect they led Amanda into the room, which eased my discomfort and helped me to focus on what was about to take place.  The physician was very nice; he spoke to us during the process to let us know what was happening.  We became a bit concerned when the doctor stopped peeking over the sheet to tell us what was happening. To increase this concern my body, which had no feeling from the neck down, was being jerked rather violently.  Something was desperately wrong.  After what felt like an eternity, the doctors all left the room with my son’s silent, red, and lifeless body in the lead physician’s arms.  I was in absolute panic, I looked to Amanda to offer support, but her calming words couldn’t mask the fear in her voice.  This is one scenario no mother even allows into her train of thought when she finds out she is pregnant.  Then, sounding like no less than an angel, he began to cry. The relief was unbelievable, Amanda and I cried, too.  I sent Amanda to get him from the doctors.  In a minute that felt like an eternity, she brought me the angel I had heard.  He was perfect.  I had not planned for the amount of love I felt at that moment.  Everything else disappeared, the cold sterile room, the doctor’s, the sound of God giggling in the distance, there was only my son and me. 

The Favre Legacy

On October 29th WKBT aired a story about my family.  We thought it was going to be a silly little piece about the fact that our last name is Favre.  That is not really how it turned out.  From the idea, to the cameras, to a beautiful story that had us all laughing, smiling, and crying, it was so much more than we had expected.

A couple of months ago Jennifer Livingston asked my step mom if she could do a little news story about the La Crosse Favre family.  Maybe she would cover my brothers playing sports for Aquinas, UW-L, and Viterbo.  She would probably tie in a little of how we all feel about sports and having the same last name as the notorious football player.  We all rolled our eyes when she said yes.  Well, it has been a family source of contention since Brett started jumping teams and doing his whole back and forth bit on the retirement issue.  We can agree on most issues in our house but politics, religion, and Brett are touchy topics and are sure to make tempers flare when touched upon.  Why not air this laughable hostility on local TV...or so we thought. 

Most of us were less than thrilled at the idea of having cameras in our faces as we watched my brothers play football.  Even less excited about the idea of having cameras in my mom's house during our already crowded and crazy Sunday night family dinner.  We literally feed our whole, already large, family including my step mom (who runs the circus every week), me, my son, my boyfriend, my 6 brothers, my sister, her finance, and her  two children every Sunday.  The full grown indoor rotweiler, and two little orphan Annie type dogs.  Add part of the Aquinas football team, a few UW-L football players, don't forget Viterbo baseball players, and that is only some of the Sunday regulars.  On top of this, now we have a news crew with huge cameras and an interviewer making the rounds with a microphone.  You get the idea!!  It was literally a zoo, I would not have been surprized if an elephant had walked through the livingroom!  So this was what was going to be on TV.  We were all a little nervous and excited to see what Jennifer would pull together out of this insanity.  We couldn't wait for it to air.

One week after the 6th anniversary of my dad's passing, the show aired.  We held our breath to see what fools we had made of ourselves, and cringed at the thought of everyone we knew seeing it.  Then it started.  The story of how we became this huge crazy Favre family, and the man who inspires us, my dad.  It told about how my dad met my step-mom and how easily and genuinely we became a family united.  It was really touching that Jennifer payed honor to my dad and showed how amazing my step-mom is.  It just really reminded me of how blessed we all are to have each other.  It was perfect that the story came at a time of year that can be a little difficult, even six years later.  It made us all really proud of what we have in each other.

http://www.wkbt.com/Global/story.asp?S=13409468

what are we supposed to eat??

You can die from eating junk food.  You can die from eating celery.  Both of these were front page stories this week.  They really got me to thinking; what are we, as Americans, putting into our bodies and what can we do to change?   We are a nation of people obsessed with being in a hurry, so much so, that we seldom think twice about what we are using to fuel our own bodies.  We eat food that is outsourced from other countries rather than food that is grown in our own back yard, in the name of convenience.  We gobble up fast food at astonishing rates, seldom without thinking twice about fat content and nutritional value.  What is the point of being in such a hurry, if we don’t maintain our health and our environment, will we even be around to enjoy whatever it is we are in such a rush to get to?

I will start out with the obvious, our nation is unhealthy.  According to the American Diabetes Association, roughly 1 in 10 Americans over the age of 20 have diabetes.  A preventable disease that can be prevented by diet and exercise.  In an article on NPR by April Fulton, one third of our population is expected to be diagnosed with diabetes by the year 2050 if we, literally, don’t shape up.  These are terrifying statistics when you consider that this is far from the most dangerous of the diseases caused by our increasing level of obesity.  According to the center for disease control, the number one killer of Americans is heart disease.  This too, can be prevented and controlled. In many cases with simple diet and exercise.  Yet every day we are bombarded with billboards, commercials, and shameless amounts of advertising all focused on one thing, getting us to fork out more money for unhealthy food.  The statistics are terrifying and the weapons advertisers are using to keep us fat are strong.  They use huge portions to make us think that eating that much is normal.  I can assure you that what you see on the commercial is by no means one serving size.  The Carl’s Jr. Commercials that we see with sexy, size 0 models and actresses indulging in a double bacon cheeseburger is anything but reality.

On the other side of the issue, where is our food coming from?  If we do decide to eat healthy we are still in grave danger. Walking down the aisle of your neighborhood grocer with your eyes open can be, well, eye opening.  Most of the fruits and vegetables you see are from Mexico, China, Puerto Rico, and other outside resources.  This is disgusting when you consider the fact that they do not have the same regulations we have here as far as using pesticides and herbicides.  Who even knows what you are putting into your body along with the food we were intending to eat.  Then there are the lost vitamins and nutrients. Mineral deficient soil, and food picked before it's peak can rob your food of up to 40% of the food's intended nutrients and minerals. At the point it sits on the shelves it is far from fresh, it may have been picked a week or two before it found its way to your grocer. Some produce is wax coated or sprayed with water to look more fresh and appealing than it actually is.   Not to mention the amount of fossil fuels burned to get the food the thousands of miles it takes to reach the grocer, and behind that the ecological impact of the burned fuels.  That is a lot to consider for a cucumber you could have purchased at the farmers market or grown in your own backyard. By buying local you are supporting the local economy, keeping jobs in the US, and knowing first hand who grew your food. With all of the stories you hear about salmonella and e coli out breaks it seems like the option of buying your food from a reliable, local resource just makes sense.


It is time for us to make a move to a healthier existence. We need to think about what we are putting into our bodies, and deciding if it is the right kind of fuel. In order to prevent the devastating outcomes of a nation fed on fast food, we must act now. We need to support educational programs and incentives to teach children and families how to make the right decisions when it comes to food. By teaching our youth the right choices about food, not only what we eat but where it comes from, we will be saving them from a lifetime of sickness and pain.

Pretty defined

How to Make God Giggle- 1st revision

You can plan for a lot of things. You plan a vacation, you plan a party, you can even plan for your pregnancy. That is exactly what I thought I had done for my pregnancy, “plan”. I planned on the sex of my child, the type of childbirth I would have I planned on the midwife that would deliver my baby. I planned on a warm, dark room, with my favorite music playing in the background as I toughed out the birthing pains with no type of pain medicines. Somebody told me once, “Want to make God laugh, tell him your plans!”. On July 24^th I am sure I heard God laugh.

The day started out innocent enough, I rolled body, eight months pregnant and swollen, out of bed. I got dressed and ready and walked down the stairs to meet my cousin, Ali and her son, Silas. I had planned on tagging along with them to a couple of Silas’s doctor appointments. This day was so perfect and beautiful that we had decided to travel the two miles from my house to the hospital on foot. During our walk I started to feel a little funny. The heat that had felt so good in my front yard was suddenly a little too much. We turned back and grabbed the car. We arrived at the hospital and went to the first appointment without incident. On the way through the hospital, to appointment number two, we stopped to use the restroom; this is where I realized something was not right. I went to the bathroom as usual, but I couldn’t stop going to the bathroom. I thought at first something was wrong with my bladder control. It didn’t take long to realize the problem was not my bladder, but, that in fact, my water had broken. I assumed it was normal, being a month early and never having had a child before, I thought perhaps I had just missed this chapter in the book, or maybe this is the false labor I had read about; surely there was a rational explanation. This was where the flood gates opened, I thought I heard a snicker.

While it may have been a great thing to be at a hospital when you go into labor a month early, we were at the wrong hospital. We left the hospital and headed to my house to pack my bags, and head to the right hospital. I was calm at this point, I was ready for anything. I had spent months bonding with this person inside me and I was ready to meet him; I had even fallen in love with him. I had picked out the perfect name and was ready to put a face to this little stranger that I had come to know so well. My best friend, birthing coach, and for all intents and purposes, my temporary husband, Amanda drove me to the hospital. Maybe the timing wasn't perfect, but surely from here out everything would be just as I had planned it.

We arrived at the hospital and headed for the labor and delivery floor. After finding out that, in fact, it was my water that broke, I got the most devastating news thus far in my pregnancy, I had to have a cesarean section. Not only would I be going into surgery, but my midwife was not available for the delivery. What? I had planned on a natural, drug-free, childbirth, under the care of a midwife I had come to know very well over the previous few months. While I had remained calm and resilient thus far, this took me over the edge, I was nearly inconsolable. Amanda, in all of her strength and wisdom, managed to calm me down and remind me that it didn’t matter how he came as long as he was safe healthy. I was prepped for surgery and carried on a gurney to the operating room.

The operating room was cold and sterile, I was terrified, and this was certainly not in the plan. The epidural, that I had vowed not to use, was administered. While waiting for the drugs to take effect they led Amanda into the room, which eased my discomfort and helped me to focus on what was about to take place. The physician was very nice, he spoke to us during the process to let us know what was happening. We became a bit concerned when the doctor stopped peeking his head over the sheet to tell us what was happening. To increase this concern my body, which had no feeling from the neck down, was being jerked rather violently. Something was desperately wrong. After what felt like an eternity, the doctors all left the room with my son’s silent, red, and lifeless body in the lead physician’s arms. I was in absolute panic, I looked to Amanda to offer support, but her calming words couldn’t mask the fear in her voice. This is one scenario no mother even allows into her train of thought when she finds out she is pregnant. Then, sounding like no less than an angel, I heard his cry. The relief was unbelievable, Amanda and I cried, too. I sent Amanda to get him from the doctor’s. In a minute that felt like an eternity, she brought me the angel I had heard. He was perfect. The longer I looked at his tiny hands, his tiny feet, his beautiful, little face, the deeper in love I fell. One thing I had not planned for, was amount of love I felt at that moment. This little life that I had created, that I was responsible for, made me feel as though I was holding my own heart on the outside of my body. Everything else disappeared, the cold sterile room, the doctor’s, the sound of God giggling in the distance, there was only my son and me.

Renewable energy...do I have a say?!?

The future of Green Energy in the US

In the United States it is becoming urgently clear to nearly everyone that our dependency on coal and foreign oil is not only selfish and destructive, it is causing huge, potentially non reversable damage to our country, to the globe, to our atmosphere, and beyond.  It seems as though government has its head in the sand, is quick to take up other causes.  What can we do to make a difference.

In the United states we have access to education and a willing workforce ready to take up the challenge of fixing up our environment before it's too late.  There is solar, wind, and water energy all around us just waiting to be harnessed to run our homes and offices.  We are coming out of the worst recession since the depression and we have startlingly low unemployment rates.  It seems like a match made in heaven.  A willing workforce and the potential to create new technology jobs for dislocated workers.  While there has been talk of moving to a more sustainable future of energy, change is slow and with government so busy with health care reform it seems that little is being done to make this change.  The topic is hot during election times and the Obama administration is quick to bash republicans for not supporting renewable energy resources during that time, but movement in the administration is still slow at best when the voters aren't watching so close.   The damage is happening faster than repairs.

What can we do to help move the process along?  The answer is simple, we have to vote.  While we may not have total control over health care, the environment and where our energy comes from, we do have some say in who makes these decisions.  As the future of our country, we have a lot at stake.  To sit back and let other people make those decisions for us would really be a tragedy.  A little over half of our population actually gets out to vote on election day and that lowers to about a third of the population for mid term elections.  Mid terms is when we vote in about a third of our congress, senate, and local and state representatives.  These are the people who are most likely to share our same concerns and who may actually hear our voices...THEY MAKE OUR DECISIONS.  So, if you share some of the same environmental concerns, and even if you don't, get out to the polls on Nov. 2nd and be heard.


I posted a link to a great website sponsored by Wisconsin public radio.  It is called Wisconsin Vote.org.  It is a great site that will help you get to know the candidates, know where and when to vote, registration procedure and lots of other helpful election day stuff.


 http://wisconsinvote.org/

Tinker School

Please take a minute to watch Gever Tulley's speech at this link:

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/gever_tulley_s_tinkering_school_in_action.html

Would you let your child drive your car, operate a chainsaw, or play with fire??  Most parents would balk at such an absurd notion.  Being a parent myself, I could relate.  That is until I listened to Gever Tulley give this talk about his “Tinkering School”.  A place where children are given real tools, open fire, and unlimited resources and are encouraged to let their imagination lead them.   Listening to Tulley I learned of his child like sense of wonder, his unique look at success and failure, as well as ways to change my own approach to learning.

Tulley, a contract computer scientist by trade, has a childlike sense of wonder that you can pick up on by listening to him speak for only a few minutes.  The purpose of his “Tinker school” is to rekindle a spirit of creativity and problem solving that is slowly being drowned out by our plastic coated, media culture.  He and his partner serve as only motivators and supports, allowing the children to be responsible for both their successes and their failures, which are both celebrated at the school.  Failures are seen as a rebirth and a stepping stone, more than an actual failure.  By allowing children to explore and think without the aid of technology and adult supervision he unleashes a brand of creativity that is slowly dying in our fast paced culture.

Tully opened my eyes to a type of enrichment that I feel my own child is missing in his life.  I feel like I let my child go off and explore the world to his content, but, only under the watchful eye of mother…and with a helmet.    I realize after listening to him how much different things are from the time I was growing up.  When I was little we could roam the streets doing as we pleased, as long as we were home by midnight.  We played in dirt piles, rode our bikes, and got into anything and everything.  Today, we have places like the children’s museum where kids are encouraged to explore, but only under close supervision and in a sterile environment.  If you were to let your kids into the garage to play with power tools alone, you would surely be cited for some form of neglect.  I am for the idea of encouraging children to invent new ways to play, even if it does lead to some cuts and bruises.  Flesh heals, but that kind of freedom, and the values learned while doing it, last a lifetime.  

In watching Tulley, I think I will be investigating more thoroughly the type of schooling I will be exposing Peter to.  I have explored both Montessori and Waldorf schools in an effort to find the best education available to my son.  I like the hands on personal approach these schools take.  While they may not be quite as liberal as Tulley’s school, they do provide some of that independence and hands on learning that he advocates.  I think in the future if I have to opportunity to expose Peter to a camp like the one presented here, I would certainly enroll Peter.  This presentation has also given me the freedom and desire to allow my son to explore a world that isn’t covered in plastic and bubble wrap.

Fall is fabulous!

I love the change of seasons, and labor day weekend is my signal that fall is on it's way.  I love fall!   My labor day weekend was packed full the smells, the food, and the colors associated with fall.  I began the weekend with a little fall cleaning, most importantly, putting away all of our summer clothes and replacing them with our fall wardrobes.  After all of the cleaning was finished, my son and I headed off to Fergusons Morningside apple orchard to pick apples, pet the animals in the petting zoo, and chase each other through the corn maze.  We ended the weekend with a shopping trip to add some fall staples to our freshly restored wardrobes.  Labor day weekend is all about ushering in the fabulousness of fall, and this one was certainly no exception.

Allow myself to introduce myself

Well let’s see, a little generic introduction to start things off. My name is Augusta Favre. I am a thirty year old single mother of a beautiful, intelligent, extremely advanced and amazing three year old little boy named Peter. I have been working for the Waterfront Restaurant and Tavern since it opened four years ago, and I love my job and the people I work with and for. I love to knit, write poetry, do art and play with my son, I learned how to snowboard last year and I love it, I love to work out, and I am also a huge foodie. I have a boyfriend that I have been dating for 6 months, his name is Josh and he is in his final semester of the Nursing program here at Western. I have a pretty big family, I have 6 brothers (five step and one half), and one sister. I have three nephews and a niece in the oven. One of my brothers is a football player for UW-L and another is a baseball player for Viterbo. So Brett isn’t the only Favre playing ball in the Midwest. By the way if you were wondering…we’re not related!!