I have a new friend.
We met a bit over a year ago, but didn't start spending time together until this spring. In the past few months we became fast friends. The type of friend you connect with right away - feel an immediate, improbable bond - you finish one another's sentences within days of knowing one another.
The sort of friend who is easy to spend time with, because you somehow agree on everything, from sharing a soda (real Coke please, no diet) to where to sit in a movie theatre. Or you agree to meet up a street festival - and find that you're wearing the same style sundress! (different prints of course - but exact same style! Because what else would you wear to a street festival on a hot summer day?)
Beyond that, we respect one another's differences.
Going into them here might get too personal - but I had to laugh when I told her about a sewing project I'm working on. She rolled her eyes and declared me "one of THOSE people!" expressing her envy of my creative side.
By way of explanation I told her it's because in high school, when my classmates were taking pre-calculus - I was taking second year sewing.
As I revealed this, there was a small spot inside of me that was prepared for ridicule. Instead, I felt relief when she said, "I can guarantee that over time, you got more use of your sewing class than I did from pre-calc!"
Click.
and we're right back to understanding one another!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Dog Days of Summer
I have but two grievances about Denver. I really love this city, the weather, the stunning lack of mosquitoes, the weather.
The two things that bug me about living here:
1) Summer is too short. It usually takes until June to warm up - and by mid-September it's chilly. Coming from Nebraska where the heat of summer blazes from Mid-April to the end of October... three puny months just isn't enough!
2) All the freaking dogs! I read once that Denver has more dogs per-capita than it has children. I believe this to be true. But allow that to roll around in your head. More dogs than children.
That means most households have two dogs and no kids. Instead of DINKs (double income no kids) we have DITDs (Double income two dogs)! The longer I live here, the more I look at dogs with disgust.
Don't get me wrong. It's not the dogs that bug me as much as the dog owners. In my condo building we have 22 units. 8 of them have dogs. (have mercy, I just did the count and was surprised it was only 8 dogs. It feels like I live with 18!!) These dogs bark at the drop of a hat. They run and jump on people. They have taken over the courtyard. It's a mad house!!
I don't understand how anyone takes pleasure in having a dog that isn't properly trained and socialized. Why wouldn't you want your dog to be a good citizen? A dog that is a joy for other people to be around.
On the first floor, there are two little yippy dogs and real dog (laborador) just moved in.
The first yippy dog barks when anyone gets their mail, opens the front door, or walks up the stairs. Seriously. That's at least 22 people coming and going every day. I can't believe this dog still has vocal chords (and I am very tempted to snip them myself!).
What if I had a tantrum every time someone came in the front door? Don't you think they'd send me to the looney bin?
The first yippy dog sets the second yippy dog off barking... and now the new dog joins in. I may as well live in the animal shelter.
Yesterday I went out to the courtyard to soak up some sun, and one of the neighbors was out there with her yippy dog and the Golden Retriever she was watching for one of the neighbors. The Golden jumped up on the hammock I was lying in not once, not twice, not even three times... but at least FIVE! Knocking me out every time!!
When I told him to sit he just ignored me! I raised my voice asking, "Why doesn't this dog know commands?!"
Someone please tell me - why would you have a dog and not bother to train it?
That is very much like having children and allowing them to grow up to be dull, stupid BRATS!
Tips for dog people. If you don't want other people to hate you - please try the following:
- Teach your dog to sit on command. Any one's command.
- Teach your dog to stop within at least 3 feet of another human (or dog) unless invited to approach.
- Teach your dog not to jump on people. You may enjoy being part of a pack - but some of us are wearing nice clothes, thank you very much.
- Keep your dog on a leash and teach it to heel. That means the dog stays in close proximity to you. Your dog should be able to heel even when not on a leash. Learning this will make all the steps above that much easier to accomplish.
- Pick up your dog's doodie. If you don't like this duty - don't have a dog. This is non-negotiable.
- Ask your neighbors whether your dog is quiet when you are away at work or out on errands. If the report reveals that your dog barks for more than 10 minutes upon your departure... this means your dog is a nuisance. Buy a shock collar or citronella collar and use it until your dog is trained not to bark. It works. Do it. I don't care if you think it is cruel or not. Forcing your neighbors to hear your bundle of joy bark all day is cruel and unusual punishment as well.
Please, if you are going to have a dog make it a dog that isn't a nuisance to everyone but you. You owe it to your dog. If it could speak, it would tell you it wants to be a good citizen.
Doing less than this is lazy and inconsiderate and dare I say... cruelty to animals.
Thank you.
Stepping off my soapbox and signing out.
SST
The two things that bug me about living here:
1) Summer is too short. It usually takes until June to warm up - and by mid-September it's chilly. Coming from Nebraska where the heat of summer blazes from Mid-April to the end of October... three puny months just isn't enough!
2) All the freaking dogs! I read once that Denver has more dogs per-capita than it has children. I believe this to be true. But allow that to roll around in your head. More dogs than children.
That means most households have two dogs and no kids. Instead of DINKs (double income no kids) we have DITDs (Double income two dogs)! The longer I live here, the more I look at dogs with disgust.
Don't get me wrong. It's not the dogs that bug me as much as the dog owners. In my condo building we have 22 units. 8 of them have dogs. (have mercy, I just did the count and was surprised it was only 8 dogs. It feels like I live with 18!!) These dogs bark at the drop of a hat. They run and jump on people. They have taken over the courtyard. It's a mad house!!
I don't understand how anyone takes pleasure in having a dog that isn't properly trained and socialized. Why wouldn't you want your dog to be a good citizen? A dog that is a joy for other people to be around.
On the first floor, there are two little yippy dogs and real dog (laborador) just moved in.
The first yippy dog barks when anyone gets their mail, opens the front door, or walks up the stairs. Seriously. That's at least 22 people coming and going every day. I can't believe this dog still has vocal chords (and I am very tempted to snip them myself!).
What if I had a tantrum every time someone came in the front door? Don't you think they'd send me to the looney bin?
The first yippy dog sets the second yippy dog off barking... and now the new dog joins in. I may as well live in the animal shelter.
Yesterday I went out to the courtyard to soak up some sun, and one of the neighbors was out there with her yippy dog and the Golden Retriever she was watching for one of the neighbors. The Golden jumped up on the hammock I was lying in not once, not twice, not even three times... but at least FIVE! Knocking me out every time!!
When I told him to sit he just ignored me! I raised my voice asking, "Why doesn't this dog know commands?!"
Someone please tell me - why would you have a dog and not bother to train it?
That is very much like having children and allowing them to grow up to be dull, stupid BRATS!
Tips for dog people. If you don't want other people to hate you - please try the following:
- Teach your dog to sit on command. Any one's command.
- Teach your dog to stop within at least 3 feet of another human (or dog) unless invited to approach.
- Teach your dog not to jump on people. You may enjoy being part of a pack - but some of us are wearing nice clothes, thank you very much.
- Keep your dog on a leash and teach it to heel. That means the dog stays in close proximity to you. Your dog should be able to heel even when not on a leash. Learning this will make all the steps above that much easier to accomplish.
- Pick up your dog's doodie. If you don't like this duty - don't have a dog. This is non-negotiable.
- Ask your neighbors whether your dog is quiet when you are away at work or out on errands. If the report reveals that your dog barks for more than 10 minutes upon your departure... this means your dog is a nuisance. Buy a shock collar or citronella collar and use it until your dog is trained not to bark. It works. Do it. I don't care if you think it is cruel or not. Forcing your neighbors to hear your bundle of joy bark all day is cruel and unusual punishment as well.
Please, if you are going to have a dog make it a dog that isn't a nuisance to everyone but you. You owe it to your dog. If it could speak, it would tell you it wants to be a good citizen.
Doing less than this is lazy and inconsiderate and dare I say... cruelty to animals.
Thank you.
Stepping off my soapbox and signing out.
SST
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Personal Preference - or Prejudicial?
Am I a bad person if I don't chat with the woman who is giving me a pedicure?
I broke down and got a mani-pedi the other day because - let me tell you - all 20 nails were looking nasty! Every attempt I made to remedy the nasty has just made it that much worse! For me, nail care is outsourced. I just can't do it alone.
I broke down and got a mani-pedi the other day because - let me tell you - all 20 nails were looking nasty! Every attempt I made to remedy the nasty has just made it that much worse! For me, nail care is outsourced. I just can't do it alone.
As I sat in the huge massage chair beating away at my shoulder blades, two older women came in and I noticed they were pretty chatty with their nail techs.
It made me think... am I rude for not making conversation?
I'll admit, honestly, that half the reason I don't chat with them is because I can't understand them. I get the impression that they don't understand me either. The Korean to English translation being what it is.
But more to the point... when I'm paying for a pampering service I don't want to make chit-chat. I want to be pampered and relax.
When I get a massage, I don't chit-chat with the massage therapist - and we both speak English. In fact, when I started going to the spa (courtesy of gift cards from Mr. Burns) they had me fill out a form stating my conversation preference (and fragrance preferences which I REALLY appreciate). They understand that you're there to relax - and that they are there to facilitate the relaxation.
But now I wonder, when I stick my nose in all those glossy magazines that I don't get at home - and enjoy the pampering - maybe from her end of the big massage chair - it looks like I'm just stuck up and think I don't have to talk to the sweet lady rubbing and buffing my feet.
Yikes! I'm nicer than that.
But I'm there to relax. Is my introverted time offending someone else? Should I chit-chat anyway?
What do you do?
But more to the point... when I'm paying for a pampering service I don't want to make chit-chat. I want to be pampered and relax.
When I get a massage, I don't chit-chat with the massage therapist - and we both speak English. In fact, when I started going to the spa (courtesy of gift cards from Mr. Burns) they had me fill out a form stating my conversation preference (and fragrance preferences which I REALLY appreciate). They understand that you're there to relax - and that they are there to facilitate the relaxation.
But now I wonder, when I stick my nose in all those glossy magazines that I don't get at home - and enjoy the pampering - maybe from her end of the big massage chair - it looks like I'm just stuck up and think I don't have to talk to the sweet lady rubbing and buffing my feet.
Yikes! I'm nicer than that.
But I'm there to relax. Is my introverted time offending someone else? Should I chit-chat anyway?
What do you do?
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Faith, Fear and Reality
I know my strengths. I know my weaknesses. I know my limitations.
Sometimes I project my physical limitations on our Lord God. Probably not a bright idea.
This weekend I had a chance to talk with Mr. Burns and told him about my realization that I don't need perfect faith. Just faith. Like in the story of the woman of faith who reached out to Jesus for healing. I told him that I understood that I only have to believe.
He was happy to hear this because... well... our experiences with faith are different.
The fact that I am 39 years old and still want to have a baby (or two) doesn't bother him. He believes that God will give to me what He gave to Abraham and Sarah.
Sure. I still believe in miracles but I know too much.
Think of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden - once they gain knowledge their faith is shaken. When they had nothing but their belief and confidence in God to provide for them, they were fine. But a bite of the fruit from the tree of knowledge and poof - they ruined it for all of us!
Today we know way too much.
Science and experience tells us that a geriatric pregnancy has risks. Risks for mother and child.
When I was in my 20s - I met a group of kids with Cerebral Palsy for the first time. I'll admit that I was apprehensive about even being with them at first. I was there in an observation capacity. After spending only an hour with them... they wouldn't let me leave without hugs all around. They were so sweet.
I realized as I left, that they were constantly happy. Always smiling. Just enjoying life. They were beautiful. They weren't bothered with trivial things like paying rent or even their grades. It occurred to me then, what a life of bliss! Of course it's not all sweetness, but my impression at the time was that they weren't really bothered with petty details and that's a good place to be.
A few years later, I encountered another child with Cerebral Palsy. It was then that it struck me, the sort of thought that really feels like it's from God... That my child would be just like her. It didn't scare me. It was sort of a fact. An acceptance rather than dread.
And maybe that's why my dreams of motherhood have been delayed.
At my age, the likelihood - if I should ever get married and be blessed with a pregnancy - of having a child with Cerebral Palsy is high. If that thought was from God - I'm very likely to fullfill it.
And while I would accept that if God has that in my life path, I'm a little scared of it. There is no chance that I'll have a child before I'm forty. I'd be sixty-years-old by the time my child starts college. If I have a child who would be dependant on me for life, I may not even be able to give that child a suitable amount of parenting before I'm gone!
So, as I think about this way too much... I start to think... maybe I shouldn't even seek marriage. As a Catholic, in marriage (or out) I must be open to any child God sees fit to give me. And I would be, but the result of that could be overwhelming.
Just look at all those facts - all that knowledge that gets in the way of my faith!
I yearn to have faith like the hemorrhaging woman. Simply knowing that if I come to Jesus - He will give me what I need. If He gives a child with special needs - He will also give the strength and the patience and the longevity to care for that child.
I do believe that.
But sometimes reality gets in the way. Reality and fear.
Note: This post is about my feelings and fears. I do not wish to offend anyone or misjudge their experience. I pray that any parents of special children who read this will see my heart and maybe offer their experiences to me. But please, please do not judge me as uncaring or heartless or chicken, rather see my heart where it is. As a woman struggling with faith and reality who thinks WAY TOO much!
Sometimes I project my physical limitations on our Lord God. Probably not a bright idea.
This weekend I had a chance to talk with Mr. Burns and told him about my realization that I don't need perfect faith. Just faith. Like in the story of the woman of faith who reached out to Jesus for healing. I told him that I understood that I only have to believe.
He was happy to hear this because... well... our experiences with faith are different.
The fact that I am 39 years old and still want to have a baby (or two) doesn't bother him. He believes that God will give to me what He gave to Abraham and Sarah.
Sure. I still believe in miracles but I know too much.
Think of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden - once they gain knowledge their faith is shaken. When they had nothing but their belief and confidence in God to provide for them, they were fine. But a bite of the fruit from the tree of knowledge and poof - they ruined it for all of us!
Today we know way too much.
Science and experience tells us that a geriatric pregnancy has risks. Risks for mother and child.
When I was in my 20s - I met a group of kids with Cerebral Palsy for the first time. I'll admit that I was apprehensive about even being with them at first. I was there in an observation capacity. After spending only an hour with them... they wouldn't let me leave without hugs all around. They were so sweet.
I realized as I left, that they were constantly happy. Always smiling. Just enjoying life. They were beautiful. They weren't bothered with trivial things like paying rent or even their grades. It occurred to me then, what a life of bliss! Of course it's not all sweetness, but my impression at the time was that they weren't really bothered with petty details and that's a good place to be.
A few years later, I encountered another child with Cerebral Palsy. It was then that it struck me, the sort of thought that really feels like it's from God... That my child would be just like her. It didn't scare me. It was sort of a fact. An acceptance rather than dread.
And maybe that's why my dreams of motherhood have been delayed.
At my age, the likelihood - if I should ever get married and be blessed with a pregnancy - of having a child with Cerebral Palsy is high. If that thought was from God - I'm very likely to fullfill it.
And while I would accept that if God has that in my life path, I'm a little scared of it. There is no chance that I'll have a child before I'm forty. I'd be sixty-years-old by the time my child starts college. If I have a child who would be dependant on me for life, I may not even be able to give that child a suitable amount of parenting before I'm gone!
So, as I think about this way too much... I start to think... maybe I shouldn't even seek marriage. As a Catholic, in marriage (or out) I must be open to any child God sees fit to give me. And I would be, but the result of that could be overwhelming.
Just look at all those facts - all that knowledge that gets in the way of my faith!
I yearn to have faith like the hemorrhaging woman. Simply knowing that if I come to Jesus - He will give me what I need. If He gives a child with special needs - He will also give the strength and the patience and the longevity to care for that child.
I do believe that.
But sometimes reality gets in the way. Reality and fear.
Note: This post is about my feelings and fears. I do not wish to offend anyone or misjudge their experience. I pray that any parents of special children who read this will see my heart and maybe offer their experiences to me. But please, please do not judge me as uncaring or heartless or chicken, rather see my heart where it is. As a woman struggling with faith and reality who thinks WAY TOO much!
Monday, July 13, 2009
I Need to Stop Shopping Anyway
What does it say about a person when they begin to wear only neutrals - in place of all the color that same person wore and wore well?
Is it a mood change? A sign of getting older? Am I becoming bland?
Suddenly everything in my closet is black, white, brown and grey. I am really attracted to grey right now. I do think grey is this year's black. It's cool, sharp and dramatic without washing out your complexion (when you are pale like me). And brown? Well, brown is just so rich and warm I can't resist it.
Then there's black and white. They're neutral and safe.
When did I start playing safe?
When my nieces once asked me my favorite color, I couldn't pick one. I like them all. All except pink.
I love to wear orange. I used to love to wear red - because it makes my eyes look even more blue. And needless to say, blue looks great on me.
I stopped wearing red over the past year or so. (Maybe because Mr. Burns doesn't like red?)
When I went shopping this weekend to buy a few tops to go with some bottoms that I ordered recently... I was mad at myself when I left the mall with two white tops, one black one and one grey!!
I did get one blue one. But I don't like it, I think I'll take it back. For some reason this shade of blue looks cheap to me.
And. Did I need the tops? Not really. Except for my endless quest to find shirts that stop somewhere around my waist!
Why is it that all the shirts now days are so long... you couldn't tuck them in if you wanted to? What is up with that? To wear them untucked... I have to bunch them up around my waist... making my tummy pooch look even bigger. Whose idea is this?
You know what I think about that? I think the long shirts are for people with hips. The shirts just skim over their hips and look all flattering. But when you are a stick figure like me, with no bosom and no hips... it just looks like you're wearing a tent. Not flattering. I'm tempted to start cutting all these shirts off and re-hemming them!
Is it a mood change? A sign of getting older? Am I becoming bland?
Suddenly everything in my closet is black, white, brown and grey. I am really attracted to grey right now. I do think grey is this year's black. It's cool, sharp and dramatic without washing out your complexion (when you are pale like me). And brown? Well, brown is just so rich and warm I can't resist it.
Then there's black and white. They're neutral and safe.
When did I start playing safe?
When my nieces once asked me my favorite color, I couldn't pick one. I like them all. All except pink.
I love to wear orange. I used to love to wear red - because it makes my eyes look even more blue. And needless to say, blue looks great on me.
I stopped wearing red over the past year or so. (Maybe because Mr. Burns doesn't like red?)
When I went shopping this weekend to buy a few tops to go with some bottoms that I ordered recently... I was mad at myself when I left the mall with two white tops, one black one and one grey!!
I did get one blue one. But I don't like it, I think I'll take it back. For some reason this shade of blue looks cheap to me.
And. Did I need the tops? Not really. Except for my endless quest to find shirts that stop somewhere around my waist!
Why is it that all the shirts now days are so long... you couldn't tuck them in if you wanted to? What is up with that? To wear them untucked... I have to bunch them up around my waist... making my tummy pooch look even bigger. Whose idea is this?
You know what I think about that? I think the long shirts are for people with hips. The shirts just skim over their hips and look all flattering. But when you are a stick figure like me, with no bosom and no hips... it just looks like you're wearing a tent. Not flattering. I'm tempted to start cutting all these shirts off and re-hemming them!
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
I'll Be Your...
My friend and I got tickets to a movie premiere screening last night. A romantic comedy. Fairly predictable. Guess how it ends...
As we left the theatre, on the down escalator... my friend sighed and said, "I'm going to die alone."
I understand just how she feels. I turned to her and said, "No you won't. You'll have me - at least."
"No." she protested, "You'll marry Mr. Burns and I'll live in your back yard and be your old maid."
"Is that mandatory now? Are we assigning old maids to couples?"
You know. It's not a bad idea. Everybody needs somebody!!
As we left the theatre, on the down escalator... my friend sighed and said, "I'm going to die alone."
I understand just how she feels. I turned to her and said, "No you won't. You'll have me - at least."
"No." she protested, "You'll marry Mr. Burns and I'll live in your back yard and be your old maid."
"Is that mandatory now? Are we assigning old maids to couples?"
You know. It's not a bad idea. Everybody needs somebody!!
Monday, July 06, 2009
Mega, Super, Huge - What's Wrong with Being Small?
Seems like my 'bulk' supplies tend to run out around the same time around here.
The laundry detergent, the stash of bathroom tissue - that sort of thing.
So at the grocery store yesterday, I scanned the aisle with my favorite detergent to see if it was on sale. Because I live in a small condo, I buy the smaller bottle so that it fits in the little lockers we have in the community laundry room. It's nice to not have to lug it up and down three flights of stairs or take up precious space in my home.
The laundry detergent, the stash of bathroom tissue - that sort of thing.
So at the grocery store yesterday, I scanned the aisle with my favorite detergent to see if it was on sale. Because I live in a small condo, I buy the smaller bottle so that it fits in the little lockers we have in the community laundry room. It's nice to not have to lug it up and down three flights of stairs or take up precious space in my home.
Back to the price, it was impressively low. But upon reading the fine print, it indicated that the low price was offered only if I bought three bottles.
I instantly thought, "Where am I going to put three bottles of detergent during the 5 months it takes me to go through each bottle?!"
Sometimes I do buy the two for one... so maybe I could fit all three of them in the little locker but then there wouldn't be room for the other bottle of detergent for fine washables and dark colors.
Seriously, if I had that much room for detergent, I'd buy the big bottle and use one plastic jug instead of three. Wait a minute! Why are they encouraging people to buy three small bottles instead of one big jug!
Ack! I just left the laundry aisle... bemoaning our wasteful society.
Then I spotted my favorite brand of bath tissue. I could choose either 12 double rolls or 6 mega rolls. Yeesh.
I live in an old, charming, vintage building - my TP holder can't hold a mega roll, it wouldn't be able to turn over.
Why can't it just be normal sized? 
I hate that I could save money buying the 24 roll package. Where am I supposed to store that?!
I move down the next aisle and eventually make my way to checkout.
As I'm moving my produce purchases to the check stand, I make a little chitchat with the man checking out in front of me.
I place my mushrooms -for salad- on the conveyor and the man exclaims with disbelief, "What are you doing with just 2 mushrooms?!!!"
I am a bit startled but I look up to see him triumphantly, holding up a plastic wrapped container of white mushrooms.
I reached for my pat answer, which I have borrowed from Piglet, wise little critter that he is...
"Well, I'm a Very Small Animal. I only buy food I can eat before it goes bad."
The unspoken addition to that answer is - hey, I'm being optimistic that I'm even going to try to make salad - odds are it's all going to go bad before I eat it!!
And I think, "Why are you judging my food purchases?"
I realize, the stranger wants me to buy in bulk.
Whatever happened to just having what you need?
Sunday, June 28, 2009
If You Really Listen - Sometimes You Get the Message
Sometimes in Mass on Sundays - I miss everything. I can be reading along with the Gospel and miss the whole thing.
Other times - I hear but I don't take anything away from the message.
In these moments, I feel that maybe I'm just not holy enough. Or not trying hard enough. If I were more prayerful, if I trusted God more... maybe He would speak to me. Maybe I could be uplifted. I just must not be trying hard enough.
But sometimes, God hits me right between the eyes.
Our Gospel reading this Sunday was from Mark 5:21-43. A story I am familiar with... but this time I learned something new.
Jesus doesn't ask me to be perfect. Not even perfect in prayer. He only asks that I reach out to Him. To reach out to Him, confident that He will help me.
That's an area I struggle with. Sometimes I come to Jesus in prayer with a flawed mindset. "Lord, please heal my loneliness. Show me a good man who loves You. Someone I can love, marry and have children with. I mean, I know You're not going to give me a husband, I'm pretty sure you don't even want to... but I'm asking anyway."
That is no way to reach out for His cloak! No! When we reach out to just touch his cloak... reaching out in faith, even among all the other people in the world... He knows it. He feels it!
I had to blink back tears with this realization!
I had to tell a friend! My friend MIME listened to my news and reminded me... what about the other part of the story? The part that sent Jesus walking through town at the request of the synagogue officials, Jairus whose daughter was near death. Jairus asked Jesus to come touch her and heal her.
You don't have faith? Get away from me!
This is our God. He doesn't ask us to be perfect. He asks us to believe. To have faith. Even a little bit of faith. Like a mustard seed. Just this little bit of faith - He knows. He knows your need. He knows your faith. He feels it. It matters. He cares.
If we ask or expect without faith - forget it.
Fair enough if you ask me.
I need to line up my thinking and remember that my God wants the best for me. He longs for me to have the desires of my heart. If I only have FAITH.
Scripture copied from: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops - New American Bible
Image: http://getfiredup.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/bleeding-woman.jpg
Other times - I hear but I don't take anything away from the message.
In these moments, I feel that maybe I'm just not holy enough. Or not trying hard enough. If I were more prayerful, if I trusted God more... maybe He would speak to me. Maybe I could be uplifted. I just must not be trying hard enough.
But sometimes, God hits me right between the eyes.
Our Gospel reading this Sunday was from Mark 5:21-43. A story I am familiar with... but this time I learned something new.
There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years.
She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors
and had spent all that she had.
Yet she was not helped but only grew worse.
She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd
and touched his cloak.
She said, "If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured."
Immediately her flow of blood dried up.
She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.
Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him,
turned around in the crowd and asked, "Who has touched my clothes?"
But his disciples said to Jesus,
"You see how the crowd is pressing upon you,
and yet you ask, 'Who touched me?'"
And he looked around to see who had done it.
The woman, realizing what had happened to her,
approached in fear and trembling.
She fell down before Jesus and told him the whole truth.
He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has saved you.
Go in peace and be cured of your affliction."
Who touched me?
Are you serious? This huge crowd has been jostling you the whole way and now you want to know who touched you?!
But the Lord felt His healing power leave His body. She only touched His cloak.
Are you serious? This huge crowd has been jostling you the whole way and now you want to know who touched you?!
But the Lord felt His healing power leave His body. She only touched His cloak.
Jesus doesn't ask me to be perfect. Not even perfect in prayer. He only asks that I reach out to Him. To reach out to Him, confident that He will help me.
That's an area I struggle with. Sometimes I come to Jesus in prayer with a flawed mindset. "Lord, please heal my loneliness. Show me a good man who loves You. Someone I can love, marry and have children with. I mean, I know You're not going to give me a husband, I'm pretty sure you don't even want to... but I'm asking anyway."
That is no way to reach out for His cloak! No! When we reach out to just touch his cloak... reaching out in faith, even among all the other people in the world... He knows it. He feels it!
I had to blink back tears with this realization!
I had to tell a friend! My friend MIME listened to my news and reminded me... what about the other part of the story? The part that sent Jesus walking through town at the request of the synagogue officials, Jairus whose daughter was near death. Jairus asked Jesus to come touch her and heal her.
While he was still speaking,MIME reminded me, when these people doubted that anything could be done - Jesus put them out.
people from the synagogue official's house arrived and said,
"Your daughter has died; why trouble the teacher any longer?"
Disregarding the message that was reported,
Jesus said to the synagogue official,
"Do not be afraid; just have faith."
He did not allow anyone to accompany him inside
except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James.
When they arrived at the house of the synagogue official,
he caught sight of a commotion,
people weeping and wailing loudly.
So he went in and said to them,
"Why this commotion and weeping?
The child is not dead but asleep." And they ridiculed him. Then he put them all out.
He took along the child's father and mother
and those who were with him
and entered the room where the child was.
He took the child by the hand and said to her, "Talitha koum,"
which means, "Little girl, I say to you, arise!"
The girl, a child of twelve, arose immediately and walked around.
At that they were utterly astounded.
He gave strict orders that no one should know this
and said that she should be given something to eat.
You don't have faith? Get away from me!
This is our God. He doesn't ask us to be perfect. He asks us to believe. To have faith. Even a little bit of faith. Like a mustard seed. Just this little bit of faith - He knows. He knows your need. He knows your faith. He feels it. It matters. He cares.
If we ask or expect without faith - forget it.
Fair enough if you ask me.
I need to line up my thinking and remember that my God wants the best for me. He longs for me to have the desires of my heart. If I only have FAITH.
Scripture copied from: United States Conference of Catholic Bishops - New American Bible
Image: http://getfiredup.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/bleeding-woman.jpg
Monday, June 22, 2009
On My iPod - the Rosary; Here's Why
At the start of 2007 I was determined to meet my husband. I wouldn't say I was desperate - I was just DONE being alone, and it was time to meet him.
I put out the call for all my friends to introduce me to someone that year - and I began praying the Rosary every night. I bought a CD of the Rosary, and a beautifully illustrated book of the mysteries of the Rosary to help me remember just how it went.
By the end of February I had met Mr. Burns. (the third guy I was introduced to)
Instantly, I knew I liked him. He was so many of the things I was looking for in a man - and so many more I didn't know I needed/wanted.
He couldn't believe I was real.
We became inseparable.
I was sure we'd be engaged by the end of the year.
You know much of the rest.
At some point, things got harder than hard. After 18 months together - he seemed stuck. Mired in some place that kept him from deepening our relationship. I still knew there was something really good there - but after keeping this thing afloat all by myself for so long, I needed a breather.
It was like our relationship was in this boat full of holes and the only way to keep it afloat was for me to hold it up from underwater. He gave me enough help to come up for air once in a while, but mostly, I was exhausted.
And I got out of the habit of praying the Rosary once I had what I wanted... and couldn't get back into it now that I needed assistance again.
Looking back now, we realize that our relationship went off the rails when his dad died unexpectedly. We had been dating for 5 months and everything was moving along just as you would expect - until Mr. Burns was hit with grief.
Hindsight has taught us that he was mired in that grief for longer than either of us realized.
In addition to that, I lost my job two months later. I found part-time work, but I had way too much free time.
He no longer saw the driven, successful, creative woman that I normally am - during the majority of our time together.
That's a lot of stress to put on a young relationship.
But now we know that we can get through some really ugly stuff.
It took us breaking up to have the distance required to learn this.
So, as you know - we've been spending time together again.
But, once when it was Mr. Burns who just didn't know where our relationship was going - now it's me.
I used to know for sure that we were meant to be together - and I was frustrated that he was so confused.
Now, he knows what he wants and I'm the one confused.
We went out for dinner Saturday evening, and as we walked, our pinkies entwined like we used to on long walks or when hiking. (it's too hot and too much to hold hands when you're trying to exercise, so we would just link pinkies instead - to be connected.)
Suddenly I was uncomfortable. It seemed too intimate, considering the confusion between my head and my heart. I released his pinky.
We found a photo booth - I can never pass those up - and ducked inside for a silly photo-session. So overwhelmed with affection is he... he couldn't help but nuzzle on me. I was uncomfortable again.
I attribute this in part to the time I spent really working on disconnecting from him. I still think he's the right guy for me, but in the break-up - some vital cords were severed. They need to be reestablished before we can move forward.
Or, do I just not know whether this is right or not?
~
Mr. Burns surprised me with two thoughtful gifts for my birthday... one at the beginning of the week to kick things off - and another on Saturday to end the week-long celebration on a high note.
He loved the look on my face when I opened the iP0d Shuffle. It was extreme shock and surprise!
He helped me set up my i+une$ account.
The first thing we loaded on my Shuffle was the Rosary.
Finally, last night, I realized that I can't do this on my own. I need to get back to the Rosary and let the prayer lead me to the answers.
I put out the call for all my friends to introduce me to someone that year - and I began praying the Rosary every night. I bought a CD of the Rosary, and a beautifully illustrated book of the mysteries of the Rosary to help me remember just how it went.
By the end of February I had met Mr. Burns. (the third guy I was introduced to)
Instantly, I knew I liked him. He was so many of the things I was looking for in a man - and so many more I didn't know I needed/wanted.
He couldn't believe I was real.
We became inseparable.
I was sure we'd be engaged by the end of the year.
You know much of the rest.
At some point, things got harder than hard. After 18 months together - he seemed stuck. Mired in some place that kept him from deepening our relationship. I still knew there was something really good there - but after keeping this thing afloat all by myself for so long, I needed a breather.
It was like our relationship was in this boat full of holes and the only way to keep it afloat was for me to hold it up from underwater. He gave me enough help to come up for air once in a while, but mostly, I was exhausted.
And I got out of the habit of praying the Rosary once I had what I wanted... and couldn't get back into it now that I needed assistance again.
Looking back now, we realize that our relationship went off the rails when his dad died unexpectedly. We had been dating for 5 months and everything was moving along just as you would expect - until Mr. Burns was hit with grief.
Hindsight has taught us that he was mired in that grief for longer than either of us realized.
In addition to that, I lost my job two months later. I found part-time work, but I had way too much free time.
He no longer saw the driven, successful, creative woman that I normally am - during the majority of our time together.
That's a lot of stress to put on a young relationship.
But now we know that we can get through some really ugly stuff.
It took us breaking up to have the distance required to learn this.
So, as you know - we've been spending time together again.
But, once when it was Mr. Burns who just didn't know where our relationship was going - now it's me.
I used to know for sure that we were meant to be together - and I was frustrated that he was so confused.
Now, he knows what he wants and I'm the one confused.
We went out for dinner Saturday evening, and as we walked, our pinkies entwined like we used to on long walks or when hiking. (it's too hot and too much to hold hands when you're trying to exercise, so we would just link pinkies instead - to be connected.)
Suddenly I was uncomfortable. It seemed too intimate, considering the confusion between my head and my heart. I released his pinky.
We found a photo booth - I can never pass those up - and ducked inside for a silly photo-session. So overwhelmed with affection is he... he couldn't help but nuzzle on me. I was uncomfortable again.
I attribute this in part to the time I spent really working on disconnecting from him. I still think he's the right guy for me, but in the break-up - some vital cords were severed. They need to be reestablished before we can move forward.
Or, do I just not know whether this is right or not?
~
Mr. Burns surprised me with two thoughtful gifts for my birthday... one at the beginning of the week to kick things off - and another on Saturday to end the week-long celebration on a high note.
He loved the look on my face when I opened the iP0d Shuffle. It was extreme shock and surprise!
He helped me set up my i+une$ account.
The first thing we loaded on my Shuffle was the Rosary.
Finally, last night, I realized that I can't do this on my own. I need to get back to the Rosary and let the prayer lead me to the answers.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Dealing With a Pain
My boss called me a little bit ago. Yeah, around 9:00pm. Would you be worried?
He called to ask me to document the behavior of another employee. Yikes.
This will feel a little strange, considering I'm the newest hire. The person I'm documenting has been there for about 7 years.
I want to be careful and fair, because I tend to write these sort of incidents in a matter-of-fact, dispassionate, emotionless sort of way. Which seems to be the right thing to do - but usually comes across as harsh rather than the neutral message I intend.
Here's what happened. My job is to prepare the material for a weekly 'event'. Then it gets handed off to another part of the team. Typically, the same person sees it through to the final product - but today it was handed off to yet another person. This person is difficult at best. We'll call this person Bozo.
As Bozo completed the first phase of the project - it was time for me to weigh in with any changes or adjustments. Bozo told me that part of the material was changed. That the first part of the team made this change. This was a change that, with the resources at hand, I could not accommodate. I'm great at troubleshooting - but this one had the deck stacked against it.
The really strange part, is the first part of the team would NEVER make a change like this without checking with me first. This was very concerning.
Bozo says no... "They do this all the time."
No - they've never done this to me before. It doesn't make any sense.
Then I ask Bozo to show me the change in question - Bozo makes a veiled effort, but then stops and offers another explanation - in an effort to distract me - which is Bozo's preferred Modus Operandi. I ask again, and Bozo instead offers two suggestions to cover the material - both of which will not work. I never did get to see the problem in question.
I chose not to press the issue since I was dealing with Bozo after all.
I called my boss and explained part of the problem and asked for a suggestion. He couldn't help.
Finally, I determined a suitable fix and left for the day.
Forgot about it.
Until my boss called. He spoke with the first part of the team who confirmed that they did not make the change. This in turn confirmed that Bozo made the change. Why? Your guess is as good as mine.
Did Bozo make the change just to watch me struggle with an unsolvable problem for no reason? Is this something Bozo would then take pleasure in... watching me spin around trying solve the unsolvable?
Doesn't matter. My boss is ticked. Bozo pulls this stuff all the time. Especially on people like me, my job title, my gender. Mmmm hmmm.
My boss is totally on my side. Which is great. But it also makes me feel bad, because it's something that shouldn't be a big deal. Something I can handle - but shouldn't have to. I could have pushed Bozo to show me the change - (the change that wasn't really there after all you see) but I didn't because I felt pushing the issue on something of this level would be foolish, and just cause more trouble.
And that, my boss pointed out - is the rub. Shouldn't have to. It doesn't have to be this way and the only way we can make it stop is follow the bureaucracy, document it and maybe in 2-3 years we don't have to put up with Bozo any more. Furthermore, if I had been dealing the other person on the team - and asked to see this problematic change - boom - I would have seen it in two seconds flat. The fact of the matter, the problem Bozo was presenting wasn't there. Bozo was just causing trouble.
Sheesh. This is ridiculous!!
Any suggestions for me so that I don't come off sounding like the whiner in this situation?
sorry if this is boring - I just needed to get it off my chest before I write up the real thing. Thanks for letting me vent.
He called to ask me to document the behavior of another employee. Yikes.
This will feel a little strange, considering I'm the newest hire. The person I'm documenting has been there for about 7 years.
I want to be careful and fair, because I tend to write these sort of incidents in a matter-of-fact, dispassionate, emotionless sort of way. Which seems to be the right thing to do - but usually comes across as harsh rather than the neutral message I intend.
Here's what happened. My job is to prepare the material for a weekly 'event'. Then it gets handed off to another part of the team. Typically, the same person sees it through to the final product - but today it was handed off to yet another person. This person is difficult at best. We'll call this person Bozo.
As Bozo completed the first phase of the project - it was time for me to weigh in with any changes or adjustments. Bozo told me that part of the material was changed. That the first part of the team made this change. This was a change that, with the resources at hand, I could not accommodate. I'm great at troubleshooting - but this one had the deck stacked against it.
The really strange part, is the first part of the team would NEVER make a change like this without checking with me first. This was very concerning.
Bozo says no... "They do this all the time."
No - they've never done this to me before. It doesn't make any sense.
Then I ask Bozo to show me the change in question - Bozo makes a veiled effort, but then stops and offers another explanation - in an effort to distract me - which is Bozo's preferred Modus Operandi. I ask again, and Bozo instead offers two suggestions to cover the material - both of which will not work. I never did get to see the problem in question.
I chose not to press the issue since I was dealing with Bozo after all.
I called my boss and explained part of the problem and asked for a suggestion. He couldn't help.
Finally, I determined a suitable fix and left for the day.
Forgot about it.
Until my boss called. He spoke with the first part of the team who confirmed that they did not make the change. This in turn confirmed that Bozo made the change. Why? Your guess is as good as mine.
Did Bozo make the change just to watch me struggle with an unsolvable problem for no reason? Is this something Bozo would then take pleasure in... watching me spin around trying solve the unsolvable?
Doesn't matter. My boss is ticked. Bozo pulls this stuff all the time. Especially on people like me, my job title, my gender. Mmmm hmmm.
My boss is totally on my side. Which is great. But it also makes me feel bad, because it's something that shouldn't be a big deal. Something I can handle - but shouldn't have to. I could have pushed Bozo to show me the change - (the change that wasn't really there after all you see) but I didn't because I felt pushing the issue on something of this level would be foolish, and just cause more trouble.
And that, my boss pointed out - is the rub. Shouldn't have to. It doesn't have to be this way and the only way we can make it stop is follow the bureaucracy, document it and maybe in 2-3 years we don't have to put up with Bozo any more. Furthermore, if I had been dealing the other person on the team - and asked to see this problematic change - boom - I would have seen it in two seconds flat. The fact of the matter, the problem Bozo was presenting wasn't there. Bozo was just causing trouble.
Sheesh. This is ridiculous!!
Any suggestions for me so that I don't come off sounding like the whiner in this situation?
sorry if this is boring - I just needed to get it off my chest before I write up the real thing. Thanks for letting me vent.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Just a Scrunchie
Remember that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie has just started dating Jack Burger? We see that she's just finished reading his newly published book - she's thrilled that he is a fantastic writer - she can love the man because she loves his work.
When he asks her what she thinks of it she gushes enthusiastically - then launches into a rant about the detail in the book that has his main character running all over Manhattan wearing a Scrunchie in her hair. How no self-respecting Manhattan-ite/Fashionista would be caught dead wearing a Scrunchie anywhere other than her bathroom, washing her face before bed!
As if he can go back and take that out of the book. Yikes. You know she's gone too far. The rant was supposed to be lighthearted and funny and instead it turns into a big - ugly deal.
I remember talking to a friend after seeing that episode for the first time - saying, "Wouldn't it be nice if you could erase those mountains made from molehills by simply saying... 'Hey, it's just a Scrunchie... never mind, it's nothing'."
I realized then that the sort of man who would be the right fit for me, would be the guy who understands when I'm just ranting and know that it's nothing. Just a rant. Dismiss it. Never mind.
I came across an ad the other day that had the word Scrunchie in it - and I was reminded of that little epiphany made years ago.
Then I realized, I found that guy. With whom I share that little pact.
When we first started dating, Mr. Burns he told me about some cartoon he saw that involved a misunderstanding between space aliens and some cows.
The dialogue was subtitled, because much of the conversation was in cow. You know, 'Moo'.
At the resolution of the saga, when all the misunderstandings but one were cleared up, the aliens asked for one more clarification.
"Oh, that was Phil's fault." one cow says to the aliens.
The scene reveals Phil the Cow (steer?) lifting his hand/hoof in an apologetic manner as he says, "Moo. Moo, moo."
Mr. Burns found this hilarious. "Moo. Moo, moo." meant, "Sorry. My bad." or "Yeah. Can we forget it?"
When we would get into little rants and rows he would stop and say, "Moo. Moo, moo."
We'd both crack up. It'd break the ice and we could get back to the business at hand.
Before long we were both doing it. We made up different inflections, a single moo. A drawn out moooo. Or a short, quick Moo. To make a point. It became our own language.
One night at a party, Mr. Burns was relating some story to some new friends. At the end of his story, he defaulted to shorthand and said, "Moo. Moo, moo."
Luckily, our new friends had been pulled into a different conversation and didn't notice. After I finished laughing I pulled close to him and whispered, "Honey. They don't speak Moo."
This was our shorthand. A silly way to communicate.
And just this week, I realized - that was a quality I wanted all along. Someone who knows when a Scrunchie is just a Scrunchie. A cigar is just a cigar.
Move on - don't sweat the small stuff.
Moo.
Mr. Burns and I have been spending time together again lately, and he often effuses about the Power of Moo.
Sure. Some people might see it as avoidance. He sees it as a representation of our ability to communicate. How we relate to one another.
We were always careful not to abuse the Moo. "No. This isn't a Moo. This is serious." then we get down to business. We understand what's worth spending time discussing - and what we shouldn't waste our time on.
It's just... you know... Moo.
When he asks her what she thinks of it she gushes enthusiastically - then launches into a rant about the detail in the book that has his main character running all over Manhattan wearing a Scrunchie in her hair. How no self-respecting Manhattan-ite/Fashionista would be caught dead wearing a Scrunchie anywhere other than her bathroom, washing her face before bed!
As if he can go back and take that out of the book. Yikes. You know she's gone too far. The rant was supposed to be lighthearted and funny and instead it turns into a big - ugly deal.
I remember talking to a friend after seeing that episode for the first time - saying, "Wouldn't it be nice if you could erase those mountains made from molehills by simply saying... 'Hey, it's just a Scrunchie... never mind, it's nothing'."
I realized then that the sort of man who would be the right fit for me, would be the guy who understands when I'm just ranting and know that it's nothing. Just a rant. Dismiss it. Never mind.
I came across an ad the other day that had the word Scrunchie in it - and I was reminded of that little epiphany made years ago.
Then I realized, I found that guy. With whom I share that little pact.
When we first started dating, Mr. Burns he told me about some cartoon he saw that involved a misunderstanding between space aliens and some cows.
The dialogue was subtitled, because much of the conversation was in cow. You know, 'Moo'.
At the resolution of the saga, when all the misunderstandings but one were cleared up, the aliens asked for one more clarification.
"Oh, that was Phil's fault." one cow says to the aliens.
The scene reveals Phil the Cow (steer?) lifting his hand/hoof in an apologetic manner as he says, "Moo. Moo, moo."
Mr. Burns found this hilarious. "Moo. Moo, moo." meant, "Sorry. My bad." or "Yeah. Can we forget it?"
When we would get into little rants and rows he would stop and say, "Moo. Moo, moo."
We'd both crack up. It'd break the ice and we could get back to the business at hand.
Before long we were both doing it. We made up different inflections, a single moo. A drawn out moooo. Or a short, quick Moo. To make a point. It became our own language.
One night at a party, Mr. Burns was relating some story to some new friends. At the end of his story, he defaulted to shorthand and said, "Moo. Moo, moo."
Luckily, our new friends had been pulled into a different conversation and didn't notice. After I finished laughing I pulled close to him and whispered, "Honey. They don't speak Moo."
This was our shorthand. A silly way to communicate.
And just this week, I realized - that was a quality I wanted all along. Someone who knows when a Scrunchie is just a Scrunchie. A cigar is just a cigar.
Move on - don't sweat the small stuff.
Moo.
Mr. Burns and I have been spending time together again lately, and he often effuses about the Power of Moo.
Sure. Some people might see it as avoidance. He sees it as a representation of our ability to communicate. How we relate to one another.
We were always careful not to abuse the Moo. "No. This isn't a Moo. This is serious." then we get down to business. We understand what's worth spending time discussing - and what we shouldn't waste our time on.
It's just... you know... Moo.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Well, How About That?
I have been looking for a skirt - or skirts - for months now. Ever since thoughts of spring popped into my head around February.
And I mean, I looked everywhere! TJMaxx. Ross. As in, every TJ's and Ross in the city and surrounding suburbs. Koh!s. Nordstrom Rack. Neiman's Last Call. The G^p. Goodw!ll.
Everywhere I wouldn't have to pay full price and some places I might. Haven't found even one. Well to be fair... not one that wasn't completely out of my price range.
Yeah.
So 20 minutes in Target - I found 6 skirts to try on. Bought two of them. $9.99 and $14.99. How about that?!
Target is so great - they always know what we want before the rest of the world catches on!
And I mean, I looked everywhere! TJMaxx. Ross. As in, every TJ's and Ross in the city and surrounding suburbs. Koh!s. Nordstrom Rack. Neiman's Last Call. The G^p. Goodw!ll.
Everywhere I wouldn't have to pay full price and some places I might. Haven't found even one. Well to be fair... not one that wasn't completely out of my price range.
Yeah.
So 20 minutes in Target - I found 6 skirts to try on. Bought two of them. $9.99 and $14.99. How about that?!
Target is so great - they always know what we want before the rest of the world catches on!
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
A Penny Saved
Never seems to go very far!
I met two of my guy friends for drinks last week. It was Paul's birthday and we got together to watch one of the Nuggets-Lakers games.
These guys treat their cell phones like appendages! Constantly checking, texting, tinkering.
At one point I pulled my phone out of my bag to see if there were any messages. Paul caught sight of it and said, "Whoa. That phone is old-school!"
I'm a little behind the curve on technology. I do need to upgrade my phone soon and plan to get a B!ackberry with a data plan. For now this 4.5 year old phone will do.
I've never understood the need to have the lastest and greatest at all times.
Then, in a conversation with someone new the other day (okay - it was a date) it came up that I don't have an iPod.
What? How do you not have an iPod?
Short answer, it's never been a priority.
Dig a little deeper and priority is the key word.
I told my date, "You know, I'm the sort of person who is always saving up for something that I never get to buy."
I don't know if anyone else has ever heard of this 'sort' of person.
I've been saving up for my dream sofa for almost 3 years now.
I spent $500 on my night guard instead. I figure it's more important that I have teeth when I'm 60 than that I have a gorgeous new couch right this minute.
4 years ago I splurged on a Digital SLR camera. Actually, that's one time I had the money saved and then it took me 9 months to commit to spending it!!!
I'm accustomed to any of my slush funds being repurposed for something I seriously don't want. Like tires. Or replacing the manifold gasket for the second time in 12 months. (That's a $400 procedure surrounding a $30 part - BTW) Replacing the pipes under my bathtub. ($1000) Or that incredibly sexy night guard.
An iPod? You know, they still play music on the radio for free right? So not a priority.
That new cell phone is next on my list... after I pay for the damage my leaking radiator did to my downstairs neighbor's ceiling.
And maybe one day... teeth whitening!!! Oh what a glorious day that will be!
I met two of my guy friends for drinks last week. It was Paul's birthday and we got together to watch one of the Nuggets-Lakers games.
These guys treat their cell phones like appendages! Constantly checking, texting, tinkering.
At one point I pulled my phone out of my bag to see if there were any messages. Paul caught sight of it and said, "Whoa. That phone is old-school!"
I'm a little behind the curve on technology. I do need to upgrade my phone soon and plan to get a B!ackberry with a data plan. For now this 4.5 year old phone will do.
I've never understood the need to have the lastest and greatest at all times.
Then, in a conversation with someone new the other day (okay - it was a date) it came up that I don't have an iPod.
What? How do you not have an iPod?
Short answer, it's never been a priority.
Dig a little deeper and priority is the key word.
I told my date, "You know, I'm the sort of person who is always saving up for something that I never get to buy."
I don't know if anyone else has ever heard of this 'sort' of person.
I've been saving up for my dream sofa for almost 3 years now.
I spent $500 on my night guard instead. I figure it's more important that I have teeth when I'm 60 than that I have a gorgeous new couch right this minute.
4 years ago I splurged on a Digital SLR camera. Actually, that's one time I had the money saved and then it took me 9 months to commit to spending it!!!
I'm accustomed to any of my slush funds being repurposed for something I seriously don't want. Like tires. Or replacing the manifold gasket for the second time in 12 months. (That's a $400 procedure surrounding a $30 part - BTW) Replacing the pipes under my bathtub. ($1000) Or that incredibly sexy night guard.
An iPod? You know, they still play music on the radio for free right? So not a priority.
That new cell phone is next on my list... after I pay for the damage my leaking radiator did to my downstairs neighbor's ceiling.
And maybe one day... teeth whitening!!! Oh what a glorious day that will be!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Delight
While I'm out there trolling the internets (and real life Denver) for dating prospects, I have a little admission to make.
I've been spending time with Mr. Burns.
Something has really changed. You'd think he was spending time with Catherine Zeta Jones, the Queen of England and Angelina Jolie all at once! That to say the man actually delights in me. (like I had wished for before)
Don't get too excited. There is nothing definite yet. So I'm not 100% invested right now. I'm still cautious.
Until he gives me something definative - I just can't be too invested. But, things are in the right position now. He's pursuing me - and I'm the one who needs convincing. That was out of order before.
I am still meeting new men. I have to. But you know, they mostly disappoint.
This weekend, Mr. Burns and I spent all day Sunday together. After I went to Mass by myself, we met for brunch, and we planned to go for nice hike somewhere in beautiful Colorado.
But, by the time we finished breakfast - the entire region was under rain clouds. So we went for day-long drive in the rain, hoping to find a break somewhere.
He showed me some of his favorite places. Poudre Canyon for one. The rugged Mishawaka Amphitheatre on the Poudre River. (who knew? That place is fantastic!) And we found a few rain-free minutes to hike on the beautiful Greyrock trail before we were supposed to meet some of his friends at a blues bar in Lyons - then down to Boulder for a late night meal.
By the end of the day I was so exhausted, I could barely hold my head up on the car ride back to Mr. Burns' place where I had left my car. This is unusual for me... I'm usually a late night girl, so for me to run out of steam before Mr. Burns was highly irregular! I ended up sleeping in his spare room, rather than try to drive home with toothpicks propping my eyelids open.
He had a golf tournament this morning, so he left me a key to let myself out.
As I was collecting my things I was struck with an idea.
Mr. Burns has been talking about starting a tomato plant on his patio for years now. He even has a large pot out there, but hasn't gotten around to planting one. I had teased him that even my dad started a tomato plant this spring and reports budding on. Mr. Burns has some catching up to do!
So as I gathered my shoes, camelback and such, I hatched a covert plan to start his patio garden. I ran out and bought a $3 tomato plant - planted it on his porch - and left this note:
Hours later, I got a voicemail thanking me for the surprise, whatever it was - because he couldn't figure it out. And I thought the hint was so simple that he'd have it found out in no time!
I called him back a few hours later (because that's when I first heard the message) and dropped a few more hints until I heard: "Oh wow! I see it. That is awesome, you are so cool! Thanks so much!"
The man was thrilled over a stupid little tomato plant!
And maybe I shouldn't have done it - if I'm trying be pursued and all - but I love doing things for people, and I adore hatching surprises! It's selfish of me really.
But it was great to hear the delight in his voice.
It's a change.
I did similar things a year ago that were met with no enthusiasm.
We're getting one another again.
This is interesting.
I've been spending time with Mr. Burns.
Something has really changed. You'd think he was spending time with Catherine Zeta Jones, the Queen of England and Angelina Jolie all at once! That to say the man actually delights in me. (like I had wished for before)
Don't get too excited. There is nothing definite yet. So I'm not 100% invested right now. I'm still cautious.
Until he gives me something definative - I just can't be too invested. But, things are in the right position now. He's pursuing me - and I'm the one who needs convincing. That was out of order before.
I am still meeting new men. I have to. But you know, they mostly disappoint.
This weekend, Mr. Burns and I spent all day Sunday together. After I went to Mass by myself, we met for brunch, and we planned to go for nice hike somewhere in beautiful Colorado.
But, by the time we finished breakfast - the entire region was under rain clouds. So we went for day-long drive in the rain, hoping to find a break somewhere.
He showed me some of his favorite places. Poudre Canyon for one. The rugged Mishawaka Amphitheatre on the Poudre River. (who knew? That place is fantastic!) And we found a few rain-free minutes to hike on the beautiful Greyrock trail before we were supposed to meet some of his friends at a blues bar in Lyons - then down to Boulder for a late night meal.
By the end of the day I was so exhausted, I could barely hold my head up on the car ride back to Mr. Burns' place where I had left my car. This is unusual for me... I'm usually a late night girl, so for me to run out of steam before Mr. Burns was highly irregular! I ended up sleeping in his spare room, rather than try to drive home with toothpicks propping my eyelids open.
He had a golf tournament this morning, so he left me a key to let myself out.
As I was collecting my things I was struck with an idea.
Mr. Burns has been talking about starting a tomato plant on his patio for years now. He even has a large pot out there, but hasn't gotten around to planting one. I had teased him that even my dad started a tomato plant this spring and reports budding on. Mr. Burns has some catching up to do!
So as I gathered my shoes, camelback and such, I hatched a covert plan to start his patio garden. I ran out and bought a $3 tomato plant - planted it on his porch - and left this note:
"Thanks for a fun day. I always enjoy time spent with you.I left a tablespoon sized pile of potting soil on the note as a telltale sign of my little gift.
I left a surprise. Here is a hint >>."
Hours later, I got a voicemail thanking me for the surprise, whatever it was - because he couldn't figure it out. And I thought the hint was so simple that he'd have it found out in no time!
I called him back a few hours later (because that's when I first heard the message) and dropped a few more hints until I heard: "Oh wow! I see it. That is awesome, you are so cool! Thanks so much!"
The man was thrilled over a stupid little tomato plant!
And maybe I shouldn't have done it - if I'm trying be pursued and all - but I love doing things for people, and I adore hatching surprises! It's selfish of me really.
But it was great to hear the delight in his voice.
It's a change.
I did similar things a year ago that were met with no enthusiasm.
We're getting one another again.
This is interesting.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
A Call for Braver Men
I've been on a couple different dating websites for the last couple of months. While I have been - shall we say, approached - by a number of interesting men... I have only met one (yeah, 1) of them.
My subscription on the paid site will be up next week, and one gentleman who has been sending me smileys every week doesn't look like he's going to do anything else. Now, of course I respond to these men - but I still feel like the man should pursue. I mean, I'm on the site - I'm obviously looking to meet someone. I've responded favorably and enthusiastically to their meek inquiries - but they can't step it up from there. Disappointing.
It's the same problem in the real world. These men just don't do anything.
Yet they claim they want to meet someone and hopefully marry.
A few years back, one of my best guy friends was ranting about the marketing of the Edd!e Bau&r catalogue. It was a father's day issue and he noticed that the men portrayed as fathers were his age... and now he was upset that he didn't have a wife and family. After all, it was time!
(Boy do I know that feeling!)
I sympathized with him, but then said, "I've known you for 5 years and I've never known you to even go on a date. How do you expect to get married if you don't even ask women on dates?"
"Well," He began in all seriousness, "I plan to find the right woman first and then I'll ask her out."
I'm pretty sure I threw my arms up in frustration at that point!
More recently, I've quizzed many of my male friends about this phenomenon of them never asking women out. They tell me about their fear of rejection.
I've heard this for years and I have never understood it.
Fear of rejection? What exactly? You're afraid of the word no? Really. Because the word no is painful or something? It's not. Believe me.
Seriously, I cannot identify with the fear of rejection. Maybe because I've been rejected nearly every day of my life. And I'm still standing. No bruises, no blood. What's the big deal?
Early on, it was on the school playground at recess. I was one of the two skinniest, uncoordinated girls in my class - we were always the last two left standing for team selections. I was downright jubilant the days I was picked second last!! Yeah, it stung to be picked last, but I more or less thought it was silly that the others cared so much about winning a 15 minute recess kick-soccer game!!
Then in high school, I was still skinny. Boys weren't interested in a bony, flat-chested girl when they could take Boobie McChesty to Prom instead.
Accustomed to rejection, I chose a career in broadcast journalism - where looks tend to matter more than experience. I was rejected on a weekly basis during the post-graduate application process.
Then, as a reporter making cold calls for same-day television interviews... I heard a lot of no.
Not to mention the daily news meetings where we pitch story ideas each morning just to get shot down.
Rejection? Big fat hairy deal.
The idea of a big strong man being afraid of rejection just doesn't sit well with me. Honestly, if he is that afraid of 'no' - he's probably not man enough. For anyone.
"Faint heart never won fair lady."
My subscription on the paid site will be up next week, and one gentleman who has been sending me smileys every week doesn't look like he's going to do anything else. Now, of course I respond to these men - but I still feel like the man should pursue. I mean, I'm on the site - I'm obviously looking to meet someone. I've responded favorably and enthusiastically to their meek inquiries - but they can't step it up from there. Disappointing.
It's the same problem in the real world. These men just don't do anything.
Yet they claim they want to meet someone and hopefully marry.
A few years back, one of my best guy friends was ranting about the marketing of the Edd!e Bau&r catalogue. It was a father's day issue and he noticed that the men portrayed as fathers were his age... and now he was upset that he didn't have a wife and family. After all, it was time!
(Boy do I know that feeling!)
I sympathized with him, but then said, "I've known you for 5 years and I've never known you to even go on a date. How do you expect to get married if you don't even ask women on dates?"
"Well," He began in all seriousness, "I plan to find the right woman first and then I'll ask her out."
I'm pretty sure I threw my arms up in frustration at that point!
More recently, I've quizzed many of my male friends about this phenomenon of them never asking women out. They tell me about their fear of rejection.
I've heard this for years and I have never understood it.
Fear of rejection? What exactly? You're afraid of the word no? Really. Because the word no is painful or something? It's not. Believe me.
Seriously, I cannot identify with the fear of rejection. Maybe because I've been rejected nearly every day of my life. And I'm still standing. No bruises, no blood. What's the big deal?
Early on, it was on the school playground at recess. I was one of the two skinniest, uncoordinated girls in my class - we were always the last two left standing for team selections. I was downright jubilant the days I was picked second last!! Yeah, it stung to be picked last, but I more or less thought it was silly that the others cared so much about winning a 15 minute recess kick-soccer game!!
Then in high school, I was still skinny. Boys weren't interested in a bony, flat-chested girl when they could take Boobie McChesty to Prom instead.
Accustomed to rejection, I chose a career in broadcast journalism - where looks tend to matter more than experience. I was rejected on a weekly basis during the post-graduate application process.
Then, as a reporter making cold calls for same-day television interviews... I heard a lot of no.
Not to mention the daily news meetings where we pitch story ideas each morning just to get shot down.
Rejection? Big fat hairy deal.
The idea of a big strong man being afraid of rejection just doesn't sit well with me. Honestly, if he is that afraid of 'no' - he's probably not man enough. For anyone.
"Faint heart never won fair lady."
Monday, May 18, 2009
Must Love Dogs
Along with speed dating, I traversed the world of online dating just as it was really catching on. After it was deemed less creepy than newspaper personal ads, but just before it was completely mainstream.
One of the first guys I met online was from a Denver suburb. I was trying to avoid men from the suburbs because I figured - if he actually chose the 'burbs before he was even married, we probably didn't hold many of the same interests. He also had a dog - another thing I tend to avoid in dating circles.
Now let me just say, I don't dislike dogs. I dislike dogs in the house. I grew up on a farm and my dad's one rule was, "No animals in the house." It still makes sense to me. Even more so now that I'm allergic to the critters.
But if a man is going to have a dog - a Labrador is the only acceptable breed. And that's what he had so at least, I decided, he was maybe worth meeting.
We met for lunch in a busy, popular part of town. We ordered burgers and drinks and then decided to spend a bit more time together, walking through the shopping district.
When we left the restaurant, he motioned to the parking garage saying, "My dog is in my truck. Do you want to meet him?"
I figured he wanted to check on the dog before we spent more time away, so I said sure. He let the dog out of the bed of the truck and told me the dog's name.
"Mmmhmmm."
I expected him to check that he had water and move on, but he stood there paying all this attention to the dog - with a body language that said he expected me to do something, but I couldn't imagine what.
I stood there waiting for him to finish up with the dog.
Finally, the dog was back in the truck and we went for a little walk.
Upon our return, he let the dog out of the truck again and fussed over him some more. I began to wonder why he brought his dog into the city and let it sit in the back of his truck while he was on a date.
He continued to fuss with the dog.
Okay. Then he finally offered to walk me to my car, where despite the lack of any sparks he moved in to kiss me full on the lips in broad daylight. Awkward.
I'm all about second chances, so a few weeks later I agreed to another date with him. This time I drove out to the burbs to meet him at some restaurant in a shopping center.
Before we could go in - he had to show me his dog again!
Um. I already saw the dog. Weeks ago, remember?
Sheesh, I thought - does he take the dog everywhere he goes? And why would anyone do that? Why would you lock your dog up in an enclosed flatbed... all the time?
People who can't leave home without their pet concern me. I think they are looking for attention. Or they (not the dog) suffer from separation anxiety. They mistakenly think their dog cares if they are gone! Come on now, three minutes after you leave a dog they completely forget that you exist. When you come home, they're not excited because they remember you - they're just excited that someone who knows how to release the food is there!!
I'll be honest, I don't really know what to do with a dog - rather than tell it to stay down.
So that was the last date with the dog guy.
Not because he had a dog... but because I suspected he didn't know what to do without it.
I suspect he was banking on his dog to win some great lady's heart. Too bad he didn't think he could earn that on his own merit.
One of the first guys I met online was from a Denver suburb. I was trying to avoid men from the suburbs because I figured - if he actually chose the 'burbs before he was even married, we probably didn't hold many of the same interests. He also had a dog - another thing I tend to avoid in dating circles.
Now let me just say, I don't dislike dogs. I dislike dogs in the house. I grew up on a farm and my dad's one rule was, "No animals in the house." It still makes sense to me. Even more so now that I'm allergic to the critters.
But if a man is going to have a dog - a Labrador is the only acceptable breed. And that's what he had so at least, I decided, he was maybe worth meeting.
We met for lunch in a busy, popular part of town. We ordered burgers and drinks and then decided to spend a bit more time together, walking through the shopping district.
When we left the restaurant, he motioned to the parking garage saying, "My dog is in my truck. Do you want to meet him?"
I figured he wanted to check on the dog before we spent more time away, so I said sure. He let the dog out of the bed of the truck and told me the dog's name.
"Mmmhmmm."
I expected him to check that he had water and move on, but he stood there paying all this attention to the dog - with a body language that said he expected me to do something, but I couldn't imagine what.
I stood there waiting for him to finish up with the dog.
Finally, the dog was back in the truck and we went for a little walk.
Upon our return, he let the dog out of the truck again and fussed over him some more. I began to wonder why he brought his dog into the city and let it sit in the back of his truck while he was on a date.
He continued to fuss with the dog.
Okay. Then he finally offered to walk me to my car, where despite the lack of any sparks he moved in to kiss me full on the lips in broad daylight. Awkward.
I'm all about second chances, so a few weeks later I agreed to another date with him. This time I drove out to the burbs to meet him at some restaurant in a shopping center.
Before we could go in - he had to show me his dog again!
Um. I already saw the dog. Weeks ago, remember?
Sheesh, I thought - does he take the dog everywhere he goes? And why would anyone do that? Why would you lock your dog up in an enclosed flatbed... all the time?
People who can't leave home without their pet concern me. I think they are looking for attention. Or they (not the dog) suffer from separation anxiety. They mistakenly think their dog cares if they are gone! Come on now, three minutes after you leave a dog they completely forget that you exist. When you come home, they're not excited because they remember you - they're just excited that someone who knows how to release the food is there!!
I'll be honest, I don't really know what to do with a dog - rather than tell it to stay down.
So that was the last date with the dog guy.
Not because he had a dog... but because I suspected he didn't know what to do without it.
I suspect he was banking on his dog to win some great lady's heart. Too bad he didn't think he could earn that on his own merit.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Perils of Dating
Okay... so due to the single void I'm in I want to go back to sharing my dating stories. That's the single part of Single Solitary Things.
~
When I first moved to Denver, those organized dating efforts were just picking up steam. You know - Rotating Tables, Speed Dating - and the take-off of dating websites.
I figured since I was in a new city I could partake of these strategies under the guise of 'Just Widening My Social Circle'. After all, I came here knowing no one but my much older cousin.
So I found a speed dating event and had mild success resulting in a few dates.
You know how it goes, they fill a room with equal parts men to women - give them seven minutes together and see if they find out enough to warrant getting to know more. It was fun.
The woman who organized the events started calling me when she was short on women for an event. She would offer me free admission just to balance out the crowd. She was happy to barter the arrangement, saying the men always liked me. Given my reporting background, I was a natural at the quick interviews, engaging, funny - good at making people comfortable - and making them feel good about themselves.
One evening, there we were with our game cards and pencils. Seven minutes with each guy. At about 5 minutes, the organizer would tap a bell for a two minute warning. Upon the final bell you mark your score card, indicating whether you would like to exchange email with this person. If you both say yes, the organizer sends you both an email and maybe you go on a date.
There were usually ten guys to meet. The conversation starts quickly. If you're laughing before the bell - it's a good sign.
Then pick up and move to your next table.
Ah, the next table. At one table, the conversation just couldn't pick up. The man had nothing to say. He was so boring. Despite all my interview experience I was still at a loss to get it going. I was dying a slow death. Then, reprieve. I heard the bell!
As graciously as possible I told him how great it was to meet him and picked up my purse to move to the next table.
Everyone else was still seated.
I thought, "Wow, they must all be having great conversations - they're taking such a long time to get up and move."
A split second later, I realized I had heard the warning bell!
There were two minutes left and I had just ditched this guy! There was no way around it. I couldn't get away fast enough!!!
I had to swallow my pride and sit back down to face this guy for 2 more minutes.
I don't know which of us was more mortified.
~
When I first moved to Denver, those organized dating efforts were just picking up steam. You know - Rotating Tables, Speed Dating - and the take-off of dating websites.
I figured since I was in a new city I could partake of these strategies under the guise of 'Just Widening My Social Circle'. After all, I came here knowing no one but my much older cousin.
So I found a speed dating event and had mild success resulting in a few dates.
You know how it goes, they fill a room with equal parts men to women - give them seven minutes together and see if they find out enough to warrant getting to know more. It was fun.
The woman who organized the events started calling me when she was short on women for an event. She would offer me free admission just to balance out the crowd. She was happy to barter the arrangement, saying the men always liked me. Given my reporting background, I was a natural at the quick interviews, engaging, funny - good at making people comfortable - and making them feel good about themselves.
One evening, there we were with our game cards and pencils. Seven minutes with each guy. At about 5 minutes, the organizer would tap a bell for a two minute warning. Upon the final bell you mark your score card, indicating whether you would like to exchange email with this person. If you both say yes, the organizer sends you both an email and maybe you go on a date.
There were usually ten guys to meet. The conversation starts quickly. If you're laughing before the bell - it's a good sign.
Then pick up and move to your next table.
Ah, the next table. At one table, the conversation just couldn't pick up. The man had nothing to say. He was so boring. Despite all my interview experience I was still at a loss to get it going. I was dying a slow death. Then, reprieve. I heard the bell!
As graciously as possible I told him how great it was to meet him and picked up my purse to move to the next table.
Everyone else was still seated.
I thought, "Wow, they must all be having great conversations - they're taking such a long time to get up and move."
A split second later, I realized I had heard the warning bell!
There were two minutes left and I had just ditched this guy! There was no way around it. I couldn't get away fast enough!!!
I had to swallow my pride and sit back down to face this guy for 2 more minutes.
I don't know which of us was more mortified.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Still Searching for My Soft Gooey Center
I grew up in a family that just said what they thought. All the time. I don't ever recall any hurt feelings.
If one of us thought another was being unreasonable we told them so, in no uncertain terms.
If I was on the receiving end (as the youngest, I often was) I only remember thinking, "I guess I'm wrong." or "I won't do that again."
Our feelings were facts. You can't be insulted by facts.
The only time I found it unjust was, as a preteen, frustrated by the great disparity in treatment between myself and my teen aged brother and sister, I would declare - in tears, to my mother, "You treat me like a baby!" and she would point out my tears and say, "You're acting like a baby. When you act like a grown up we'll treat you like one."
In my frustration I couldn't explain the great injustice I felt. That I wasn't offered the opportunity to explain my position. Everything was already decided. And how could I act like a grown up if I was being treated as less?
Primarily, I didn't understand why my brother and sister had more freedom and autonomy than I.
I just wanted to be equal.
My family also operated from a position of universal awareness. Meaning, we were sort of expected to completely understand every situation so that we could evaluate every possible repercussion before a decision was made. Not that this was ever articulated. It just was.
You think in 360 degrees, so that you know how your actions are going to impact someone else.
It's sort of like mind reading.
Mom would only have to say, "There are clothes in the dryer." We knew that meant she wanted us to take them out, fold them and put them away. No need to elaborate. The message was clear.
When we were very small, if she said, "I'm on the phone." (accompanied by an exasperated glare) we knew she wanted us to shut our mouths and go in the other room and play quietly until she was done with her adult conversation. So that is what we did.
I've been out on my own for 20 years now, and I'm still learning that most other people don't operate the same way.
At first I found many, many people to be unusually over-sensitive. I still do.
I was also surprised to find that people didn't do what I expected them to do, based on the brief, blunt statements that I fired at them.
When I moved into my college dorm room freshman year, my roommate and I were chatting while I unpacked my things. She had arrived a few days earlier, her unpacking complete.
As I arranged supplies in my drawers I offered her the use of anything. But as I tucked my sewing scissors away (who knows why I even brought it?) I mentioned that it was for fabric only, "If I catch you cutting paper with it, you'll hear it from me." (that's how my mom and sister taught me to preserve the sewing scissors - and I knew that my new roommate didn't sew, so she probably needed this information.)
She nodded aggressively and rushed out of the room. She told me later that she left the room and burst out laughing at my inappropriate order! She had to get out of the room! (we are very dear friends to this day.)
I had no idea that you didn't talk to your peers that way. That was my first lesson.
In other ways, I just expected people to think as I did. When a co-worker suggested that it maybe wasn't a good idea to leave my purse out on my desk as I worked in other parts of the office - I said, "But why would anyone take something from my purse? It's not theirs." It didn't occur to me that I had some sort of responsibility to eliminate temptation for other people. I would never think of taking someone else's things - so why would anyone else (particularly my co-workers) consider it? It so clearly being the wrong thing to do.
Speaking of right and wrong. In my 20s, I worked as a reporter and news anchor - and before the newscast we all shared a room appointed with a large mirror and large counter to prepare our 'on-air' appearance. Most of us left brushes, hair dryers and cans of hairspray in that room so that we wouldn't have to cart them back and forth. One evening, the sports anchor and I were getting ready at the same time. He reached for my can of Paul M!tchell hairspray and applied it liberally to his already immovable, Brillo pad hair. He didn't even ask!!
"That's mine!" I announced bluntly and probably glared at him.
"I didn't know it was yours." he replied.
Notice there was no sense of apology there?
"Well, did you buy it?"
He was aghast.
It was so obvious to me that you don't use something as luxurious as brand name hairspray if you're not the one who shelled out the cash for it. (This is where I should tell you that small market reporters and anchors only make minimum wage - so I was on a pretty tight budget)
It was obvious to him that whatever was left out in the open was community property.
Hrumphf! I didn't spend fifteen bucks on hairspray for it to be wasted on Brillo pad hair!!
This exchange stayed with me for a while. It took me a couple more weeks to comprehend that - as a guy - he made no distinction between a $15 can of PM and $1.50 can of Suave.
Based on my upbringing, I just thought that everyone knew what I knew.
I've modified this perspective a good deal... but I am still rather blunt. I don't have the patience to coddle people. I have no use for it. I'm still learning that some people require the pleasantries that I view as contrived. I'm learning that this is why some people don't like me, (I'm always shocked!) even as I have countless loyal friends who get me and love me with fierce loyalty. As I do them.
That is what is hard to wrap my head around. If so many wonderful people love me unconditionally - how is it that others don't?
I guess that's okay. There are people out there that other people are crazy about - for whom I don't see the draw. At. all.
But what is really astounding to me is that it has taken me 38 years to understand this.
To understand that there are people who prefer to pussyfoot around, and talk in sticky-sweet voices.
And there are still other people who are much more gruff than myself. They too will soften over time.
If one of us thought another was being unreasonable we told them so, in no uncertain terms.
If I was on the receiving end (as the youngest, I often was) I only remember thinking, "I guess I'm wrong." or "I won't do that again."
Our feelings were facts. You can't be insulted by facts.
The only time I found it unjust was, as a preteen, frustrated by the great disparity in treatment between myself and my teen aged brother and sister, I would declare - in tears, to my mother, "You treat me like a baby!" and she would point out my tears and say, "You're acting like a baby. When you act like a grown up we'll treat you like one."
In my frustration I couldn't explain the great injustice I felt. That I wasn't offered the opportunity to explain my position. Everything was already decided. And how could I act like a grown up if I was being treated as less?
Primarily, I didn't understand why my brother and sister had more freedom and autonomy than I.
I just wanted to be equal.
My family also operated from a position of universal awareness. Meaning, we were sort of expected to completely understand every situation so that we could evaluate every possible repercussion before a decision was made. Not that this was ever articulated. It just was.
You think in 360 degrees, so that you know how your actions are going to impact someone else.
It's sort of like mind reading.
Mom would only have to say, "There are clothes in the dryer." We knew that meant she wanted us to take them out, fold them and put them away. No need to elaborate. The message was clear.
When we were very small, if she said, "I'm on the phone." (accompanied by an exasperated glare) we knew she wanted us to shut our mouths and go in the other room and play quietly until she was done with her adult conversation. So that is what we did.
I've been out on my own for 20 years now, and I'm still learning that most other people don't operate the same way.
At first I found many, many people to be unusually over-sensitive. I still do.
I was also surprised to find that people didn't do what I expected them to do, based on the brief, blunt statements that I fired at them.
When I moved into my college dorm room freshman year, my roommate and I were chatting while I unpacked my things. She had arrived a few days earlier, her unpacking complete.
As I arranged supplies in my drawers I offered her the use of anything. But as I tucked my sewing scissors away (who knows why I even brought it?) I mentioned that it was for fabric only, "If I catch you cutting paper with it, you'll hear it from me." (that's how my mom and sister taught me to preserve the sewing scissors - and I knew that my new roommate didn't sew, so she probably needed this information.)
She nodded aggressively and rushed out of the room. She told me later that she left the room and burst out laughing at my inappropriate order! She had to get out of the room! (we are very dear friends to this day.)
I had no idea that you didn't talk to your peers that way. That was my first lesson.
In other ways, I just expected people to think as I did. When a co-worker suggested that it maybe wasn't a good idea to leave my purse out on my desk as I worked in other parts of the office - I said, "But why would anyone take something from my purse? It's not theirs." It didn't occur to me that I had some sort of responsibility to eliminate temptation for other people. I would never think of taking someone else's things - so why would anyone else (particularly my co-workers) consider it? It so clearly being the wrong thing to do.
Speaking of right and wrong. In my 20s, I worked as a reporter and news anchor - and before the newscast we all shared a room appointed with a large mirror and large counter to prepare our 'on-air' appearance. Most of us left brushes, hair dryers and cans of hairspray in that room so that we wouldn't have to cart them back and forth. One evening, the sports anchor and I were getting ready at the same time. He reached for my can of Paul M!tchell hairspray and applied it liberally to his already immovable, Brillo pad hair. He didn't even ask!!
"That's mine!" I announced bluntly and probably glared at him.
"I didn't know it was yours." he replied.
Notice there was no sense of apology there?
"Well, did you buy it?"
He was aghast.
It was so obvious to me that you don't use something as luxurious as brand name hairspray if you're not the one who shelled out the cash for it. (This is where I should tell you that small market reporters and anchors only make minimum wage - so I was on a pretty tight budget)
It was obvious to him that whatever was left out in the open was community property.
Hrumphf! I didn't spend fifteen bucks on hairspray for it to be wasted on Brillo pad hair!!
This exchange stayed with me for a while. It took me a couple more weeks to comprehend that - as a guy - he made no distinction between a $15 can of PM and $1.50 can of Suave.
Based on my upbringing, I just thought that everyone knew what I knew.
I've modified this perspective a good deal... but I am still rather blunt. I don't have the patience to coddle people. I have no use for it. I'm still learning that some people require the pleasantries that I view as contrived. I'm learning that this is why some people don't like me, (I'm always shocked!) even as I have countless loyal friends who get me and love me with fierce loyalty. As I do them.
That is what is hard to wrap my head around. If so many wonderful people love me unconditionally - how is it that others don't?
I guess that's okay. There are people out there that other people are crazy about - for whom I don't see the draw. At. all.
But what is really astounding to me is that it has taken me 38 years to understand this.
To understand that there are people who prefer to pussyfoot around, and talk in sticky-sweet voices.
And there are still other people who are much more gruff than myself. They too will soften over time.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Pray pray pray....
Oh no. A Supreme Court Justice is stepping down and now we get to see who Obama appoints.
This can't be good.
At least it's not a conservative judge that he has to replace.
Pray the Rosary without ceasing!
This can't be good.
At least it's not a conservative judge that he has to replace.
Pray the Rosary without ceasing!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Falling for a Guy
Or - the modern day version of dropping one's hanky.
I finally got my non-existent butt over the park to roller-blade. Roller-blading is my cardio workout of choice. Low impact, fun & easy, with great waist-whittling properties and also very effective on the glutes and legs. So effective that I'm still feeling my glutes today - so that is awesome.
I really enjoy it.
The first year I bought my roller-blades, I actually met a guy at the park. Obviously that didn't work out - but we did date for a little while so it is in the back of my mind that I can meet men at the park.
My favorite park to blade in has a smooth paved loop, with lanes marked for walkers/runners and another for bicycles. They face opposite directions like traffic lanes (northbound, southbound). Actually, the way I see it, one lane has a little diagram of a walking stick figure and the other lane has a stick figure on wheels - which one could perceive to be a bicycle - but I take it as - people on feet and people on wheels. Since I'm blading I figure I'm on wheels and I use the bike lane. Most bladers do.
On my second lap around the 2.2 mile loop, I saw a guy that looked cute enough to want to meet. He was in the walking lane, facing me, so we passed each other quickly and any opportunity to interact was over before it began.
As I continued, counter-clockwise to his clockwise... I wondered how I could actually get a guy's attention in that scenario.
When I met that guy a few years ago, he was resting on a bench - and when he saw me go around the second time he quipped, "You should stop and look at this view!"
That was enough to get my attention. The sun was slowly dipping into the mountains and reflecting on the lake. I sat for a bit, we talked and eventually skated back to our cars and exchanged numbers.
But I didn't remember that pick-up line the other day. Instead I thought I'd do one more loop, expecting to encounter this guy again and then... what?
Um... I could fall down. Right in front of him. He'd have to stop and see if I was alright. It'd be a funny story to tell our kids - because I wouldn't tell him until after the wedding that I fell on purpose.
I chuckled over the idea while I skated. Then I thought, how do I just fall without actually getting hurt? Do I slow down and just sort of lean to one side? Won't that be obvious?
Maybe I could just drop my water bottle.
Then he could trip over it. This probably isn't going to work.
In the end, I ran into my friend Mibr on the path, and lost the opportunity to fall for the guy.
Actually, I've never made such a manipulative effort to meet a guy before. Maybe I'm getting desperate in my old age.
But you know, you live and learn.
A few years ago, I crashed my bike in a spectacular fashion. My friend Mime and I were riding down the street on our way to a trail - I hit a hole and body-slammed on the pavement with an emphasis on my chin.
A guy who was at the stop light when it happened saw the whole thing and slowed down as he passed to ask if we needed help. I was embarrassed and prideful, so I said no. As he drove away Mime glared at me saying, "You dummy, you could have met a guy!"
Silly me. I'd probably be married to him by now!
I finally got my non-existent butt over the park to roller-blade. Roller-blading is my cardio workout of choice. Low impact, fun & easy, with great waist-whittling properties and also very effective on the glutes and legs. So effective that I'm still feeling my glutes today - so that is awesome.
I really enjoy it.
The first year I bought my roller-blades, I actually met a guy at the park. Obviously that didn't work out - but we did date for a little while so it is in the back of my mind that I can meet men at the park.
My favorite park to blade in has a smooth paved loop, with lanes marked for walkers/runners and another for bicycles. They face opposite directions like traffic lanes (northbound, southbound). Actually, the way I see it, one lane has a little diagram of a walking stick figure and the other lane has a stick figure on wheels - which one could perceive to be a bicycle - but I take it as - people on feet and people on wheels. Since I'm blading I figure I'm on wheels and I use the bike lane. Most bladers do.
On my second lap around the 2.2 mile loop, I saw a guy that looked cute enough to want to meet. He was in the walking lane, facing me, so we passed each other quickly and any opportunity to interact was over before it began.
As I continued, counter-clockwise to his clockwise... I wondered how I could actually get a guy's attention in that scenario.
When I met that guy a few years ago, he was resting on a bench - and when he saw me go around the second time he quipped, "You should stop and look at this view!"
That was enough to get my attention. The sun was slowly dipping into the mountains and reflecting on the lake. I sat for a bit, we talked and eventually skated back to our cars and exchanged numbers.
But I didn't remember that pick-up line the other day. Instead I thought I'd do one more loop, expecting to encounter this guy again and then... what?
Um... I could fall down. Right in front of him. He'd have to stop and see if I was alright. It'd be a funny story to tell our kids - because I wouldn't tell him until after the wedding that I fell on purpose.
I chuckled over the idea while I skated. Then I thought, how do I just fall without actually getting hurt? Do I slow down and just sort of lean to one side? Won't that be obvious?
Maybe I could just drop my water bottle.
Then he could trip over it. This probably isn't going to work.
In the end, I ran into my friend Mibr on the path, and lost the opportunity to fall for the guy.
Actually, I've never made such a manipulative effort to meet a guy before. Maybe I'm getting desperate in my old age.
But you know, you live and learn.
A few years ago, I crashed my bike in a spectacular fashion. My friend Mime and I were riding down the street on our way to a trail - I hit a hole and body-slammed on the pavement with an emphasis on my chin.
A guy who was at the stop light when it happened saw the whole thing and slowed down as he passed to ask if we needed help. I was embarrassed and prideful, so I said no. As he drove away Mime glared at me saying, "You dummy, you could have met a guy!"
Silly me. I'd probably be married to him by now!
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