Be Gentle With Me, I'm Over 40 and My Warranties are Expiring.

When I was 30 we purchased a new refrigerator. It was wonderful. It was big and roomy, it had all sorts of buttons and gadgets, Water and Ice, Humidity control, night lights, oooo it was so much fun. It smelled fresh and clean and it didn’t have any mysterious crusty substance or slimes in the cracks and seals. There were no flakes of onion peel  or garlic cloves coating the bottom of the crisper drawer.

The Refrigerator survived one local move and one very long distance move like a champ, but shortly after my 40th birthday, one by one...its systems and fancy doohickeys began shutting down. Sadly, my refrigerator is no longer with us. Not surprisingly, I came to an epiphany about this,  and that is simply that humans have warranties as well and they expire at exactly 40 years of age.

Consider this my good deed for the day. I’m writing this as a public service announcement. I feel it’s my duty to impart my expansive wisdom and share my knowledge on this enigmatic subject with you. No one warned me ahead of time and I stumbled blindly into my 40s, accepting, nay, celebrating this significant milestone while at the same time ignoring it, only to hit a brick wall and be knocked on my butt. I don’t want anyone else staggering into middle-agedom unarmed, so here, without further ado, is the information necessary to maintaining your sanity when you reach that certain landmark that includes a birthday cake with enough candles to heat a 10,000 square foot warehouse, or maybe it just felt that way in my 980 square foot cottage/house.

First up is your youthful vigor. Remember when you could stay out all night with friends having a good ole time? I see my college age son and his girlfriend doing this now, and I just shake my head like an old person, wondering what is wrong with those whippersnappers and how come they don't appreciate a good nights sleep?  You see I can still stay out and up all night if I want to.... It’s just that “staying out all night” now means “home and in bed by 11:00”.
  
Next up is your youthful appearance - Beginning with hair. My hair did change as I hit that lovely middle-age mark, I fight for color and it is definitely not the same thick mane of my youth....But that’s not the hair I’m talking about. I’m talking about hair that appears in places where hair should never, NEVER, EVER be. I will not give any names away, but my friends collectively came up with this list of places they’ve found errant hairs. (This is not for the faint of heart.) chin, upper lip, stomach, ears, nose, and boobs. No, that’s not a typo. Do not underestimate the value of a good pair of tweezers. And a razor. And depilatories. And wax.

As for that glorious figure and the metabolism you thought you would always have....Think again. Gone are the days of inhaling a Big Mac, hot greasy fries, and a hot fudge sundae then washing it down with a six pack of soda. Your digestive system will no longer be able to handle food that doesn’t include the word “bran” in the title or that contains butter or grease...basically anything with flavor. Another really fun thing you’ll be able to experience in middle-age is your very first colonoscopy. I highly recommend them! Not because they’re ever-so-enjoyable, but because misery loves company and if I have to suffer through them, I figure you might as well too.  When you turn 40, you will suddenly be able to ingest food simply by looking at it! It’s true! Once upon a time I was able to scarf down a pint of Ben and Jerry's, metabolize it, and be no worse for the wear. Now I merely look at a cheesecake and the fat and calories make my hips and chin swell instantaneously. Yes, now that I’m in my 40s, I can eat with my eyes. Its like magic!

Another thing that happens when you hit 40 is that your arms will shrink. This shortening of the arms makes it difficult to hold reading material far enough from your eyes to actually decipher the words on anything less than a 48 pt. font. You have two choices when this happens. Learn to hold books with your feet or get glasses. I own 3 pairs of reading glasses and two transition lenses. Because at 40, my memory started to go and I can never remember where I left my glasses, I leave a pair everywhere I typically go,  in order to make certain I always have them available. I’m pretty sure that earns me membership in the Little Old Ladies Who Play Bingo Club (I actually have an App for bingo on my iPhone). Just call me brilliant.

You may think that you’ll start to lose your hearing when you reach the ripe ole age of 40, but you’d be wrong. Quite the contrary, in fact. You’ll actually acquire bionic hearing and you’ll find yourself saying things like, “Turn that music down! Why is the TV so loud? I can’t hear myself think!” The ‘can’t hear myself think’ phrase is one of those things that old people say that doesn’t make any kind of sense. But you’ll probably start saying a lot of things that don't make sense, so get used to it.

At one time, maybe cramming for midterms in your late teens or early 20's, you could drink Coke and Lattes by the gallon, relishing the fact you could stay awake until 2:00 and then fall asleep the instant your head hit the pillow. Now, however, you have 3 choices. Switch to decaf, stop consuming caffeine by 2:00 in the afternoon, or stay awake for 3 days straight after which you will fall into a coma for 24 hours and take two weeks to recover fully.

In your younger days, your body regenerated at night while you slept and you awoke feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. After 40, however, your body mysteriously deteriorates while you sleep. You awake with aches in body parts you didn’t even know you had. You seriously consider getting a walker to help you to the bathroom in the morning and when you get up in the middle of the night, because once you’ve hit that 40 year marker you can kiss sleeping through the night goodbye & your bladder no longer holds steady, you are afraid that the creaks and sounds of your joints popping are loud enough to wake not just yours but the neighbors dog.  Now that you’re middle aged, you’ll awaken to use the bathroom at least twice a week. Look on the bright side though - at least you’re waking up to use the bathroom. The next stop on the train to death? Adult diapers.

At 40 our bodies start making strange and unusual noises. In fact, my son was sitting next to me on the couch as I typed this and he suddenly looked up at me, horror etched on his face as he exclaimed, “Get something to eat, Mom! Your stomach is scaring me!” The only problem was – I wasn’t hungry. I’d just eaten dinner. My stomach was making noises like a dying cat for no particular reason. My knees sound like a rocking chair in need of WD-40 when I attempt to get up after sitting on the floor too. I think there's a reason for the "40" in WD-40. 

If you’ve never had problems with your teeth, count yourself lucky. And be prepared to soon kiss that luck goodbye with a mouth full of gums. The bad news is that your teeth will fall apart. Literally. They’ll just fall right out of your head. This hasn't happened to me yet, but I've witnessed it in others. Even worse news is that fixing them will deplete your retirement account. I know people with so many crowns now that they are officially royalty and I am one of their lucky court jesters.

Expect to begin sagging. No, I'm not talking about the stupid fashion statement, middle-school boys like to make by wearing their pants around their ankles here, I'm talking skin. When you hit 40, the amount of gravity on your body increases causing things to shift. I used to wear cute little tops that showed off my boobs. Now without the aid of industrial strength under-wires, I would just have tuck the girls into my waistband and call it a day.   As for wrinkles, I know people my age who have the skin of a crocodile. Don’t cringe when you look in the mirror and see wrinkles. Call them “laugh lines” and pat yourself on the back for enjoying a well-lived life full of laughter. Then call the dermatologist and ask them just how much Botox they can inject at once.

And Yet, even with all this good news,  I encourage you to run headfirst, full speed into that pylon labeled 40. Embrace what comes next with humor and gracious style.  Life is only 1/2 over or 1/2 begun however you chose to look at it. So keep living it to the fullest and remember, outside of the warranties all you can do is regular maintenance. :)

Enjoy!
  

The Drive In - A Family PastTime - of the Past

I grew up in a town with a Drive-in, and although we did not go that much, it was something different and fun.  Our Drive-In had big Speakers that hung on the car door window. The sound was awful and crackled and sometimes cut in and out, but that was part of the magic. I saw the original Star Wars at a our drive in and I fell asleep in the back of our family station wagon many times at the Drive-In. Drive-Ins are an iconic part of American Family history, and sadly a dying American past-time.

Shortly after I relocated to the Northwest, Jeff and I were on a drive to the coast and I noticed a Drive-In, Still open and functioning in  of Hwy 99 in Newberg, Oregon.  I was giddy at the idea of reliving a moment from childhood and the possibility of sharing it with my children.

It took us nearly 5 years to finally make it happen but we finally did and luckily the Drive-In was still operating. Keep in mind they are closed in the fall and winter and only open for spring and summer shows.

Making the Drive to Newberg, though only 35 miles, takes nearly an hour each way. When we arrived, I was both surprised and not surprised at the same time at how popular it was.  By the time the movie started, the lot was completely sold out and packed in.

What we loved about the Drive-In experience...

1. Family Time - that's right, it begins when you enter the line and continues after you park while waiting for the festivities. Take lawn chairs and something to entertain you. Frisbees and  Nerf footballs seemed popular amongst the crowd.

2. Family Friendly - We saw people there from 0-80 and they were all having a good time. If you decide to talk or fall asleep during the either the first or second screening, you are not really disturbing anyone! 

3. Economical - Well.....Sort of - which probably explains why they are dying. We paid $8 per adult...for two movies which is the standard cost of one matinee showing at most walk in theaters. The snack bar, which you can avoid by bringing your own food, was not that bad in the price ranges.  We grabbed hotdogs and pretzels at $2-$3/each.  We brought our own snacks and drinks and popcorn and ate via tailgate while  we waited for the movie to begin. 

4. It got the car cleaned ...hey every mom has to work the chore angle somehow!  The boys eagerly pitched in to help clean and vacuum the car to make it  "camp-out." worthy. 

Tips:
Get there early to enjoy a good spot and enjoy tailgating
Bring lots of sweatshirts and blankets - evenings get chilly.
Bring your own snacks to save money and avoid the long lines, but don't forget that the drive-in needs your concession monies too...for five people we did both!
Dress in jammies...a step we forgot
Bring bug spray, just in case
Bring a flashlight to keep from having to turn on the car lights for the pre-movie time and intermission.

Remember that today's movies are piped through your car radio, so make sure you know how to turn your lights off so that you can turn the car on but don't disturb other patrons and while trying not to kill your battery.  Make sure you have enough gas in your car that you can let it run.

I know they may may not be as convenient, being scarce, and that they may not be that big of an economical savings, but they are so worth it! The drive, the late hours (yeah movies don't start until dusk and because they run a double feature you can be there until 1 a.m.), trust me they are worth it!!! Drive-Ins represent an era gone by. They are a dying art, but maybe one we can prolong just a little while longer if we all stick together.  

Streetwalking in 5 inch heels....Where are your parents?

This weekend was my 16 year old sons Winter Formal.  He doesn't usually go in for the whole dance thing, but he does like to be social so this was actually kinda cool.  He asked a very good female friend to accompany him and since it was all about friendship, many of the pressures were alleviated.

I experienced a bit of sticker shock, at the costs for such a simple occasion.  He didn't have any "Dress" clothes to speak of so we bought new Shoes, Slacks, a Shirt, and a Tie...$184. The tickets were $30. Flowers and a bear for the invitation $18.50. Corsage and Boutonniere $45. Dinner before the Dance $42. Haircut $14. Pictures $43.Transportation back and forth...incidental.  Total price $376.50 for a simple dance. But the memories he created were priceless.  I'm not complaining, it's money well spent! It is however eye opening in the context of the financial cost of raising children.  This was just one occasion.  How many hundreds of occasions do we see them through on the road to adulthood?

In the end both my son and his date looked spectacular. They were classy yet stylish, and they looked great together.  They had a great time and that was the goal of the whole experience.

Unfortunately modesty and grace were not the universal theme of the dance. It's true, there were some very well dressed and beautiful couples. There were girls draped in luxurious dresses of silk and lace and chiffon that were stunning. There were young men, in everything from casual slacks to tuxedos looking their very best.  But there were also, unfortunately, those who were a little too adult, a little too provocative, and little more brazen than what should be considered appropriate at any age unless your vocation is that of escort.

I consider myself to be a fairly cool mom. Open to the trends and styles and interest of this generation. But, the truth is, that modesty never goes out of style no matter what generation you are a part of.  A little mystery goes a long way, and beauty is not about how much skin you can show. I would go further to say, that I am grateful to have sons, but even more grateful, that my sons are drawn to those girls with class and a sense of modesty.  Where are the dress codes that were part and parcel of our generation when attending school functions? I'm not saying break out the ruler, but there should be some general guidelines. A virtual free for all, come as you are, is only asking for bad behavior.

Being judgmental is not something I support, but I find myself perplexed as to the parenting choices of others sometimes. How do you purchase a dress for a 16 year old that barely covers their nether regions and fits so tight that you can count the ribs and spinal vertebrae? Where is the parental guidance that says, here is how to dress and act like a lady? Dressing like the Guidettes from Jersey Shore and letting it all hang out, only serves to bring trouble. We wonder why shows like 16 and pregnant are so popular amongst this generation.Well, without pointing fingers, a large part of the problem is in the parenting. Its o.k. to say no to our teens. It's part of the job and actually garners a lot more respect than the passive approach of letting them run full speed down a path that will only end badly. If the dress your daughter is wearing rides up to show her undergarments while she is simply standing still or walking across the room, how much further do you suspect it will ride up when she is gyrating on the dance floor? Probably not the picture you want of your 16 year old daughter? The lines between tasteful and tacky are not that thin.

While I'm on the subject, the dance was over at 11:00 p.m. It was a chilly 32 degrees outside and as I made my way to the school, being deemed the official chauffeur for the evening, I noticed MANY young women walking home, in their skimpy dresses and 5 inch heels making their way up the streets. Some were alone, some were with other girls, some were with their dates, but too many were walking home in the middle of the night. As a parent, I found it quite distressing to see. In today's society no neighborhood is safe, and no young woman should be walking ANYWHERE alone at 11:00 p.m.. If as a parent you are too drunk or busy or uninterested to provide your child a ride home, then arrange for one or give them taxi money! When you fail to protect your child and something bad happens, you act shocked? Open your eyes and be a parent before its too late.

Alright, having said all of this and voiced my opinion of the parenting failures I observed, I will acknowledge that I think its important for this generation just as it was for yesterdays generation and tomorrows to come, to experience being kids. Participate and engage in your high school social gatherings. Make memories. Build and nurture friendships. Adulthood comes soon enough with all its responsibility and pressure, take the time to enjoy being young, being free, and being happy.

Trafficking in Stolen Goods

In the midst of my morning rituals today, with the television on ABC for my local morning news followed by Good Morning America, I once again found myself simply shaking my head in disbelief as my jaw dropped to the floor and the toothpaste ran down my chin.

I know that life remains tough for a lot of people in our country and that employment and economic struggles continue to plague millions. I understand that sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. And therein lies the rub.....apparently the TIDE is changing and we are ALL going to find ourselves WISKed away while a very small group of self professed FABulous albeit illegal entrepreneurs stand to GAIN a hefty profit while the rest of us suffer.

That's right folks, laundry soap is going black market.  That coffee stain and those sweat stains, may soon become a permanent part of your wardrobe unless you are very wealthy or willing to eat top ramen for a month as you sacrifice your grocery budget to barter a deal.. There is a new rampage making its way across the nation as thieves run through the markets stealing thousands of dollars worth of laundry soap and selling it out of the back of double parked nefarious black vans for twice the going market price.

What are we coming to? How far have we fallen when Laundry Soap finds itself in the same light as stolen kidneys and home electronics? This is comical but sad at the same time. Whats next Toilet Paper and Toothpaste? (never-mind, already there.....)

In December there was an organized retail theft ring targeting Walmarts and walking away with tens of thousands of dollars worth in laptop computers. Oddly enough,  at least this makes sense. But Laundry Soap? 

I was intrigued by the idea that there could even be a demand in the consumer market for thefts like this to actually pay off, so I googled 'Organized Retail Theft' and was shocked at the information I found.  Paper Plates, Plastic Forks, and even a Flat bed truck full of Lard. Loads of Sand and Empty Juice bottles, you name it, they steal it, and there IS a market for it.  It may not be as profitable as illegal drugs or high end electronics or cars, but there is still a profit to be turned.

Here is my pledge to the American economy...I will not buy stolen goods, laundry soap, lard (as-if?), or plastic forks. Though I am not a huge fan of the industry giants, I am a fan of America and I support the most basic premise of our trade structure.  I am a gal who can appreciate and even love a little anarchy now and then, but if we give in to the organized theft rings, we become hostages, bartering our blood sweat and tears for the most basic resources.

Cough Cough..Ahchoo..Blow..Pump (Sanitize)

Yes its flu season and I got nabbed by my first real virus last week. I am VERY careful with my health and work hard to do everything I can to avoid getting sick. I wash my hands, and I wear gloves in public, I avoid hugs and even close proximity to others who are in the throws of bug, and I usually do pretty good. But....no one can avoid it forever.

As I accept this Oscar for the role as the recently stricken and ailing but courageous hard working single mother of two sons, I want to thank my partner Jeff, for sharing his germs and sleepless nights with me.  Without him I wouldn't be the sick woman I am today.  Cheers, Baby! And thanks for taking all the medicine in the house!

In all seriousness, the best thing we can all do for those we love and care about, and even those we don't know or give a crap about second glance to as we walk down the street or up the aisles in the cubicle neighborhoods of our offices, is to be considerate enough NOT to share our germs.

Step one, and the most important step of all, Hand Sanitizer! I can't say enough about the value of sanitizer. Oh, if I only owned stock in Purell! I keep one on my desk, one in my purse, and one in my car at all times pretty much throughout the year, because, lets face it, people are giant walking germ magnets all the time. But during flu season they are like walking gorilla warfare, because those germs strap on armor and grenade belts and show no mercy, take no prisoners, show no favor.

Step two, may be more difficult, especially when your boss says "...we are in year end closing and there will be no approved time off.."...but if possible, stay home. Confine your germs within your own four walls. And, so that you don't infect the rest of your household, disinfect and isolate. Sleep alone, cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze, wash your hands, and when your through, wash them again. Every time you cough or sneeze use hand sanitizer. Don't touch anyone else food or drink. and when your feeling better, launder your bedding including your pillow cases.

If you are really serious about avoiding the bug, there are a few things you can do to increase your chances of staying well.

Use sanitizer on your phone headset, your ear phones, your computer keyboard, your car steering wheel. Don't touch doorknobs and handrails without gloves or some kind of protective barrier. Avoid public transit if you can, but if you can't, try wearing a turtle neck or scarf and use them to cover your mouth and nose during the ride. Not only will they help filter out the germs but you might find they help to filter out the wet musty smell of the creep sitting across the aisle (I know your thinking its like I'm right there with you, freaky right?). Don't shake hands or share hugs with casual acquaintances. Even if they are healthy, you never know who they just came in contact with.  You know what they say about sex partners, and sleeping with everyone your partner has slept with by proxy? Well,  same concept goes with the flu bug.  Gross without a doubt!

I heard yesterday that this respiratory bug has a cough that last at least 18 days!  I am only on day 7, and ready to kick rocks!   In 11 more days, I may not have any friends or loved ones left, because my cranky factor rises with each hack and thus so does the phenomenon of nuclear reactive flu induced psychosis.  That's gonna be my defense in court. I just made it up but I think it could catch on.

Anyway......................................................sorry I had to pause for a coughing fit.......Here's to staying healthy and doing our part to keep others healthy too. I'll do what I can, hope you will join me.

Dinner at 5:00

Growing up, I was 1 of 6 children, 5th in the line and baby girl. We were poor and I always knew this, but we maintained a very traditional way of life.

We lived in a track house, in what today would be considered HUD housing. My mother was a stay at home mom (until I was in high school). My father was the breadwinner and often did side jobs to supplement his $30,000/yr income. We went to church every Sunday and attended midweek sessions. We rode the bus to school every day and carried brown bag lunches or lunch pails with our books to school each day. We didn't use backpacks then. We had a single teacher, no changing classrooms and most of our supplies stayed in our desk at school. We only brought home the books we needed for homework and there  was homework, nearly every night in one subject or another.  We made book covers each school year from the brown paper bags we got from the grocery store.

I don't remember rather or not my siblings attended summer camp, but I did each summer for 1-2 weeks. I also spent 1-2 weeks each summer with my grandparents on my dads side. Though again, I don't recall my older siblings being there or doing this. I always looked forward to it because it was the only time of the year besides the very rare and occasional family gathering, that I would get to spend time with my cousins Kit and Kim, or see my cousins Troy or Brian. Troy had an older sister Charlene, but she was pretty much already and adult and I only have a few memories of her. We spent the occasional weekend with my grandparent on my mothers side when my parents went somewhere together. The girls slept on Grandmas bedroom floor, while the boys slept in the living room. Grandma was up at the crack of dawn every day baking fresh biscuits to go with our cereal for breakfast.

We lived a very middle of the road traditional life, struggling to make ends meet and wearing hand me downs from cousins, and aunts and uncles, but we were a family. My mother cleaned the house and supervised the children and did the laundry and hung it on the clothes line to dry in the breeze. We only used the dryer in the winter months when it rain or snowed. Mom took charge of the weekly grocery shopping and paying the bills, but most importantly, she cooked our meals, every day! No microwave, just good old fashioned, stove top or crock pot cooking.

Every night, my father worked until 4:30 and was home in time for Dinner at 5:00. Mom always had a well balanced meal ready that represented all five food groups. And we sat down as a family to eat. We passed the potatoes and ate our peas and carrots, and we did it at the table together. Sometimes we had roast, sometimes we had stew or pinto beans with ham hocks and cornbread. We always had a vegetable, meat, and bread, and we always cleaned our plates. As siblings got older and moved out the large dining room table sat empty unless they came to visit, and we adjourned to the smaller table in the kitchen area, but we still sat together every night.

When Dinner was over, we each took our turns at clearing the table and washing and drying the dishes. There were no dishwashers, that's what kids were for.

We had set times for bed, set times for homework, set times for play, set times for bathing, and set times for family meals. But we could count on "family" time at least once a day.

I've tried this at home in raising my sons. And we accomplish it occasionally. But dinner these days usually fluctuates a little later, between 7:00 and 8:00, giving me time for my commute home from work and time to cook. Our meals are sometimes based on the quick and easy, though weekends are always more traditionally rounded.  We sit together a few times a week, but more often its buffet style and every man for himself. Sometimes we are in the same room and sometimes the plates are gathered from the four corners of the earth/house.  I offer all the elements of a well balanced meal, but I don't force them, and you eat only until your full and then clean your plate in the compost, rinse it, and put it in the dishwasher machine.

I miss tradition sometimes, but life is full and active, and on the run, and challenging, and I appreciate those rare family moments that we share 1000 fold more, because they are fleeting. What as a child seemed mundane and burdensome, is now quaint and cherished.

Dinner at 5:00 may not be sustainable, but I think I could make a weekly Dinner at 7:00 work.

Independence

How old were you when you first became independent? I'm not referring to the Faux independence you exerted at age 7 when you decided you could think for yourself and built a fort in your bedroom out of  bunk beds and blankets with a sign that said "Keep Out - No Grown Ups Allowed", or the defiance you showed at 16 when you decided you were an adult and curfew smurfew meant nothing.  I'm talking about true independence. Living on your own, doing your own laundry (o.k. that's an iffy one because I know 30 year olds who still have mom do their laundry...true fact), paying rent, setting your own wake up and sleep schedule, you get the idea.

Maybe the bigger question is...What is independence?  Maybe its unique to each person. Maybe the parameters change with each generation. 

When I was 11 I started volunteering as a Candy Striper at the local hospital.  I wasn't independent, by any measure of the imagination, but I was learning independence and responsibility.

When I was 15 I got both a workers permit and my learners permit to drive and started my first part time job after school and on the weekends at a Pet Store.  I was on my way to independence, buying my own clothes, paying for my own "extras".  But I still wasn't independent.

The day I turned 16 I got my drivers license, and I took a BIG step towards independence. I payed for my own auto insurance, my own gas, I continued buying my own wardrobe, bought my own food (if not eating at home), no longer received an allowance,  and paid for all my extra curricular choices. I still wasn't independent but I was getting closer.

I graduated high school at the age of 17 and a few months after turning 18, I decided, as a "legal adult", it was high time I exerted my independence. I moved into an apartment with a girl I knew from school and happened to work with, and I was finally independent....for about 30 seconds.  O.k. so it lasted about 4 months before I found myself out of work and moving back home. Independence was a LOT more expensive than I was prepared for, and I realized that the next time I tried it would take a great deal more planning and saving. I needed to be more prepared to take the dive in to the deep blue waters of adulthood.

I learned quickly, that being and adult and being independent were two different things. But I also learned that just because the calendar says your an adult, doesn't make it so.

You can be an adult, and assume the responsibilities of adulthood without being fully independent. Independence is standing on your own two feet, able to survive and flourish without the financial aide and support of someone else. Independence, is rare. In truth, most ADULTS are not independent. They rely on each other both emotionally and financially to get through. Quite often, neither adult in a two income household, are truly independent because without the other they could not sustain their lifestyle. Being an Adult is about taking responsibility for your own needs and actions. Its about owning your life everyday and standing up for what you believe is right. It is about thinking for yourself, and making informed and reasonable decisions to the best of your ability. But being 'Independent' means fiscal responsibility. They are two VERY different animals.

Independence may be earmarked by things such as who does your laundry, sets the alarm, buys the groceries, & pays the rent and utilities. It may begin with having an income, but independence is REALLY hard work.

I thought I was independent when my parents no longer claimed me on their taxes. But the truth is even after marrying, having kids, holding a career for decades, I was simply part of an independent team. I was not  truly independent until I found myself at the age of 37, on my own, responsible for myself and my two children after divorce. Independence is hard. But its also worth it.  I however, think I did things a little backwards.  Here's my advice to my children and today's youth.....

Being 18 does not make you an adult. An adult takes responsibility for themselves, so as long as you are still my responsibility in action, you are not an adult.

Being an Adult does not make you independent. Before you leap from being my dependent to someone elses through partnership (marriage or commitment) learn to be independent first. Stand on your own two feet for a while. Experience the responsibility and pride of knowing you are taking care of yourself both physically and financially. Encounter and resolve conflicts and challenges the right way, learn....then learn some more....then learn some more....And when you finally do decide to become partners with someone, you will appreciate them for what they bring to the table that much more because you will know what it was like to be single first. Don't wait until your 40 to understand the weight and burden of independence, live it while your young and still have the energy and time to make mistakes and correct them. Independence is an important state of being to understand and know, but its not all its cracked up to be.

I'd opt for being part of the right team any day over the power of independence.

Too Familiar...Where to draw the line

At what stage of a relationship does familiarity become too familiar? Is there a stage? Are there certain things that couples simply shouldn't share, or anyone for that matter?  Or should couples share everything? Everything? Really?

Where do you draw the line?  Is it a hard line or a soft line that changes over time and circumstances. for example, maybe it's o.k. to burp and fart at home but not in public.

When you first meet someone and hope to fall in love, the general consensus is that we are all on our best behavior.  We know that everyone has bodily functions that aren't so pretty, but we work really hard to control when they surface.  If you happen to fart on your first date, the likelihood is that you won't get a second date.  So what changes?

When does it become o.k. , dare I even say, expected and humorous, to let it all hang out?

I don't know when it happened, or even how, but it did......and there are moments I wish I could turn the clock back.

Flagellation, passing gas, farts,  whatever you name them..... they come freely now, and though most are tolerable, there are some that make me throw open the windows and doors even in 30 degree temperatures, just to breath fresh air. Is it so difficult to hold that urge until you make your way to another room or perhaps the bathroom, where it is most appropriate?  Funny? Sometimes! But not always. Retorts like "that's gonna itch when it drys" or 'you smelt it you dealt it" and the ever popular "silent but deadly", don't alleviate the rancid air pocket you've left behind. It's not to say, I don't experience the occasional uncontrollable urge to pass gas, but never in public and I still apologize for it when I do.

Burps and belches come much more freely, and are even at times turned into contests.  Who can burp the loudest? Who can produce the longest burp?  Burp volleyball....a game where you you challenge how many times you can pass it back and forth with out dropping the rhythm.  Yeah,  I live in a classy household, envy me if you must. What do you expect? I am raising two sons and Jeff. My acid reflux doesn't exactly preclude my participation on occasion. How did this become my life? I still think its important to maintain some semblance of control and decorum in public, but not even that holds for the men in my life. When they want to let it roll, they simply do, its out of my control.

Using the restroom, at least this one seems to have held some structure.  My oldest son would hold his need to go for days when he first started dating his girlfriend.  When she was around he would urinate, but nothing more.  He didn't want her to experience any odor he might leave behind. He has since gotten over that for which I'm sure his colon thanks him. Most couples eventually find it acceptable to pee in front of each other, but if there is a god, anything further will and should still remain a private matter.  The door is closed for a reason, please don't think it appropriate to walk in or to stand at the door and have a conversation with me while I complete my business.  Whatever the discussion, it can wait just a few minutes.  And while we are on the subject, there is NEVER a need for you to describe to me what you left behind.  Honestly, I don't need a play by play description. Please and Thank You. Also, the use of the fan, a match, or deodorizer would be greatly appreciated.

Other things you would never experience in a "New" relationship but they seem to become part and parcel as love sets in:

1. Zits, pimples, blackheads, boils - This is just gross. Why is it expected that simply because I love you I should be willing and available to help you pick or pop these? I promise NEVER to ask you to do this for me, so please don't ask me to do this for you.  There are some things that couples simply shouldn't share.
2. Ingrown hairs - sometimes found in inappropriate places. When I said I loved you, I never said I would help to tweeze that hair from your inner thigh or buttocks region. I get that your a man, and as such you grow hair in regions I would never allow. I understand that some activities like bicycle riding result in chafing and the evidenciary occasional ingrown hair. But how is this my job?  I promised to love you, not pluck the hairs from your butt cheeks. You managed this before me, so you can manage it now. You want me to pluck your eyebrows, no problem, but anything below the neck needs to be negotiated. 

There are of course the clipping of the toenails, the flossing of the teeth, the q-tip for the earwax, and many other things, that should always remain a persons private regimen.  Its perfectly o.k. to maintain a little mystery in a relationship.  Hide the evidence & take care of the ritual out of sight. I think couples should be open and honest with each other, but there are lines of familiarity that should remain drawn. Pretend you are still dating me, and hoping to make a good impression. It may be too late to reset the rules, but its never to late to ask for a change.

Pick one thing, and see if together you can rediscover the mystery.

Going Gray - Not I

I am standing up today, and standing proud for all those women who refuse to let nature, science, age, God, stress, genetics, or any other force, strip them of their youth and vitality, at least at first glance. I will not go gray, for many many decades to come, and when it finally happens it will not be one strand at a time but an overall choice. When it happens, it will be my choice, in my control entirely, and I will chose the shade. 

Lets face it. It will happen to all of us at some point. The idea of hair “going gray,” is a bit of a misnomer. As baby boomers watch their locks turn gray, the only thing going anywhere is a pigment called melanin, which gives hair its color. The cells that make up melanin can be found in the skin’s follicles, the tiny sacs under the skin that produce hair. As hairs form, they get an infusion of the pigment. Melanin comes in two flavors, like Chocolate or vanilla,  light and dark. How much goes into a strand of hair, and in what mix, determines its color. Sooner or later, even as your hair keeps growing, those little pots of ink in the follicles start running dry. O.K., there aren’t really little pots or ink cartridges like in your photo printer, and there isn’t an allotted amount of pigment for any one person, but at some point, the production of melanin slows. Scientists describe the well running dry as a programmed death of the pigment-producing melanocyte stem cells, or apoptosis. 

For years I have watched and quaked in my boots as systematically, each of my siblings turned prematurely gray, By their mid twenties and early thirties, each of my siblings wells had begun to run dry. Their only defense was to color early, and color often, or to accept looking 20 years older. They also began to thin significantly early on. Something was different in me, I got lucky, because I neither thinned or grayed, though I watched and waited.

 I sat on pins and needles for years, panicking when my hair filled the brush each morning. But each day, and as each year passed, my hair remained thick and healthy, and dark.  My 20's came and went, and my hair remained a thick healthy brunette. My 30's passed equally as uneventful, and though life brought with it some high stress dose changes and transitions, my melanin wells continued to flow.

I am now midway through my 40's and the wells are just now showing signs of running on empty. But I have made the choice to not accept it. I have become intimately acquainted with Clairol and Garnier. With a simple process of washing my hair with a cream every 3-4 months I maintain my raven locks.  My hair, though thinner than 10 years ago remains, healthy and full. Those sneaky little grays, only appear in the temples and on the crown of my head, and I beat them back ferociously  with Loreal. I see no reason to give up the good fight.  I will hold out as long as possible. 

When this gal finally does go gray , it will be with grace and style, and in my full control. I will elect the shade, and it will not be a strand at a time, but an overall succumbing. There will not be a day by day torture and plucking of the strands as they wheedle their way in.  When I'm ready, somewhere around late grand-motherhood, perhaps in my late 60's or early 70's, I will choose a day and instead of washing that gray right out of my hair, I will elect when to wash it in. 

In the meantime,  expect and anticipate that I will remain a raven haired beauty for many years to come. I will not go softly or quietly into the gray.

Brassieres - Let's burn em'

I know it was a woman who invented the modern day bra, but I swear she must have been under duress or in fear of her life, or a bitter cranky old woman with a grudge to bear. No woman would truly think it a good idea to place other women in garments equal to those found in bondage, and call it style.Its predecessors found in ancient Rome and Greece, were meant to confine a woman's bust, not enhance it. 

No where  in history will the stories tell us that Mary Phelps Jacobs was really a cross dressing man, or perhaps an uptight spinster determined to punish all those women she saw as younger and prettier than she. Instead, they say she was a 19 year old New York Socialite who designed the first bra in the United States and had it patented in 1913 (She was later to be known for Warner Bras).  They will spin the truth to say it was a fashion statement, meant to enhance the figure of women. It was about giving a woman's bust the appearance of perky youth. I don't buy it!

I say.....if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, its a duck, or in this case a medieval torture device, created to restrict the movement and reinforce the submissive desired nature in women, masked in pretty lace and soft colors to fool us all. I hate my bra. That's right , I hate it. I hate the confinement, and the restrictive nature. I hate the discomfort of the straps which are either always falling down or too tight. I hate the struggle of finding the right fit. I hate it when the under-wires pop through the material and poke my rib cage in the middle of the day and when I pull the broken wire out I appear lopsided and deformed. 

In my younger, thinner days, its true, they could be a fashion statement, or part of my lingerie wardrobe. They used to be pretty and delicate and served to entice the attention and imagination of my beloved. But today, they are simply utilitarian and a part of my morning routine I resent and detest. Pretty or plain, I grumble all the way.

I wear my bra for one purpose only, because society says I have to.  However, when I am done with my public persona each day, as I embrace my personal time, I cant escape quick enough. Sometimes its one arm at a time on the drive home, depending on what I'm wearing and rather or not it is a hazard to remove in action. Sometimes its the moment I walk in the door at home. Either way, the girls are set free to frolic in the sun and run free at least for a while every day.  On the weekend, as long as I have no appearances to make of a formal nature, I embrace the freedom and comfort of  a good camisole or tank top and a loose sweater or blouse. No bondage required.

Bottom line, they will be what they will be, sit where they want, and either stand proud or take a rest, its all up to me, and I am most comfortable without the elastic that binds. I could take a page from the myth of the 60's that portrayed Women's Lib loyalist as bra burning lunatics in protest of a Miss America Pageant, but the feminist movement and history has shown it was a symbolic story only. There are days I would love to burn my bra, but knowing how expensive they are to replace, and that I would indeed, have to replace them, I stay my hand, and opt for simply taking it off when ever I can do so without scandal.

Fashion, or fancy, prim and proper, or rebel, its my choice and I submit only as necessary, kicking and screaming.

There Are Two Me's

I've come to recognize there are two me's.

According to the Myers Briggs evaluation test I am an ISTJ.  I am an introvert by nature and I use a great deal of logic and thought in my decision making processes and social interactions.  For the most part, I would agree with this assessment. At least on the surface and from a cold connection.  But my personality fluctuates according to my situation and external events. My professional life vs. my personal life.

In a crowd of unknowns, I am VERY much a wallflower, an introvert. I observe and evaluate and tend to gravitate towards only those people I am familiar with. The idea of public speaking spins me into a state of anxiety and panic. My heart races, I become short of breath and experience a cold sweat, and I lose focus. I find myself looking for every possible escape route and I prepare probable excuses for an early departure. My confidence is low and I simply want a way out.

I don't find myself in these situations often, because I work very hard to avoid them.

But as I said there are two me's.

Place me in a crowd of familiars, people I am comfortable and confident with, and I shine.  I become a vibrant and engaging extrovert.  I laugh and smile and flit from person to person making sure they are comfortable and happy, enjoying themselves. In a situation where I can control the populace, I become a different, more confident me. Its about feeling safe.

The fact is, every person has two faces. One is directed towards the outer world of activities, excitements, people, and things. The other is directed inward to the inner world of thoughts, interests, ideas, and imagination. While these are two different but complementary sides of our nature, most people have an strong preference towards energy from one or the other. Thus one of their faces, either the Extraverted (E) or Introverted (I), takes the lead and plays a more dominant role in their behavior. I am an (I). 

The Sensing (S) side of our brain notices the sights, sounds, smells and all the sensory details of the present. It categorizes, organizes, records and stores the specifics from the here and now. It is reality based.  The Intuitive (N) side of our brain seeks to understand, interpret and form overall patterns of all the information that is collected and records them. It speculates on possibilities and scenarios, including looking into and forecasting future outcomes and events. It is imaginative and conceptual. While both kinds of perceiving are necessary and used by all people, each of us instinctively tends to favor one over the other. I am an (S).

The Thinking (T) side of our brain analyzes information objectively. It operates from factual principles, deduces and forms conclusions systematically. It is our logical nature. The Feeling (F) side of our brain forms conclusions in a somewhat global manner, based on likes/dislikes, impact on others, and human and aesthetic values. It is our subjective nature. While everyone uses both means of forming conclusions, each person has a natural bias towards one over the other so that when they give us conflicting directions - one side is the natural trump card or tiebreaker. I am a (T)

All people use both judging (thinking and feeling) and perceiving (sensing and intuition) processes to store information, organize our thoughts, make decisions, take actions and manage our lives. Yet one of these processes (Judging or Perceiving) tends to be more predominant in our relationship with the outside world . . . while the other governs our inner world. A Judging (J) style approaches the outside world with a plan and is oriented towards organizing one's surroundings, being prepared, making decisions and reaching closure and completion. A Perceiving (P) style takes the outside world as it comes and is adopting and adapting, flexible, open-ended and receptive to new opportunities and changing game plans. I am a (J)

I understand that I must always adapt and explore those elements of my personality that are weaker, and not as natural to me. I practice opening myself up to the opposite of what my inclinations are, on occasion.

I respect who I am and appreciate the differences in others, and I challenge myself to always stretch a little further than my comfort zone would have me.

Given the definitions of Myers Briggs, what are you?  Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Sensitive or Intuitive? Thinking or Feeling? Judging or Perceiving?

Whatever you are, I say don't let anyone define you. The best way to be great, is to reach, recognize the two faces of  you, climb outside of your box and explore the unknown and unfamiliar world around you. 

A case of the Grochies

This weekend was not filled with monumental tasks requiring great energy or deep thought. It was not encumbered by herculean efforts of importance, it was a simple weekend, filled with grocery shopping and book reading and an overwhelming case of the Grouchies.

I can't explain it. I acknowledge that the grocery shopping was a bit on the extreme side, not so simple....and the weather, though clear and dry was bitter cold, in fact the mercury never got high enough for the white crunchy coating on the lawn to soften and fade.

But the grouchies were the prevalent and primary villain in our house this weekend. They were like a virus, spreading from one host to another, and they were relentless.  It took great effort this weekend to avoid major conflict and to hold our tongues. Everything seemed to strike a chord of irritation. Your breathing too loud...Why are you looking at me like that......who left a fork in the sink.......I was sitting there first......

Perhaps it was the ever present threat of the cold/flu virus circulating. It hit Jeff with its full impact and I continue to fight it with everything I have, symptoms hover at the edge but haven't taken full force hold. Perhaps it was my hormones setting the whole house on edge, I am still struggling to get a grip on how to handle the increasing unpredictability of surges they create. Perhaps it was cabin fever created by the need to hunker down and stay inside as much as possible to avoid the bitter cold. Whatever, the cause, the entire house was on edge.

The Broncos lost, and even I was ranting at the television as if they could hear me. The Seahawks lost, and Jeff's mood reflected it.  My Oikos yogurt was crushed in the grocery bag, and I almost threw an aneurysm over it. Every thing and nothing became a source of irritation.

We simply faced a weekend of the most extreme grouchies ever, but here is the positive. We came out of our weekend relatively unscathed. We managed our irritations without any major implosions or explosions, and we awoke to face a new Monday and a new week with hopefully better attitudes and outlook.

The Grouchies usually don't take us all hostage at once, and its easier to fight them when we have a team of positive attitudes taking them down. But this weekend, they showed no mercy and we had to fight to avoid casualties. I think we did pretty good. 

Superhero Powers

Taking a page from Flight or Flavor I decided to further my investigation about superpowers.

I have already determined that the power of flying is not worth sacrificing the sense of taste, but what if there were NO sacrifice and you could chose any one superpower to be yours, what would you want?

 Well, I think I will still pass on flying. The idea , even if Red Bull gave me wings, of sharing the airspace with planes, and birds, and lightning storms, and planes dumping their poo tanks, and such.  Still not all that appealing. I have an aversion to being too cold, and I understand that it gets pretty chilly up there. Maybe in a rocket ship someday orbiting the earth, but a cape and tights,  hmmm, I think I'll pass.

Telekinesis would be interesting. I would no longer have to ask the boys to bring me a diet coke or take the trash out. I could open doors without ever having to touch the germ laden handles, or feed the dogs without the smell of kibble on my hands. Interesting and tempting.  But then, is it really a superpower, or just Stephen King, Carrie, crazy woman throwing knives and setting the gymnasium on fire? Intriguing though it is, this power would take lazy to an all new level, never the mind the risk involved if I  get angry.Takes the expression "throwing daggers" to an all knew level.

X-Ray Vision just seems boring. I'm not really all that interested or enthusiastic about seeing whats beneath the clothes of 99% of the worlds population.Clothes were invneted for a really good reason, most people are really hideous without them. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I do not want to beholden anyone else. If I really want to see what's under there, I can visit a nudist colony, and truthfully, that's not really all that inspiring. I think my retch factor is far to sensitive for this power. On the plus side, it could reveal whats in the Christmas present under the tree, but I just don't see a widespread valuable application for it.

Super-speed sounds awesome, but would there be long term effects to internal organs and equilibrium like astronauts and supersonic plane pilots experience?  Can my brain take the stress of super sonic travel? Would it be like shaken baby syndrome with my brain knocking about inside my skull. I have too much to lose, what would the world do if I went stupid?

Teleportation, I love this one. Close my eyes and be instantly transported anywhere in the world.  Oh the possibilities.  But what happens if I start daydreaming?  Explain that to my boss. Well...you see its like this.....How do I control it. Would intense dreams at night take me to dark and scary places?

Thermal powers, might be interesting but as a pre-menopausal woman, I am already experiencing hot flashes, and let me just tell you.....they are not fun.  I don't see how having thermal flashes could be beneficial in any way other than starting a pagan bonfire to the gods.  And that just doesn't happen often enough to make the power useful.

Invisibility, the power to walk through walls, indestructibility, super strength, aquatic gills, the power to read minds, bionic hearing or sight, leaping buildings in a single bound, spidey senses, harnessing energy, the ability to ferret out the truth, the ability to project a sense of euphoric calm on others, and this, and that, and the other.......the possibilities are as endless as the imagination. But here is what I really want.......

I want to be able to project a shield, a bubble if you will, that encompasses me at will and filters out all the noise and chaos and bull poopie.  I want to be able to shield myself and those I love if necessary, from pain and illness, sorrow and just general crap. I want to be able to guard against the bad seeds and super villains and to enjoy my life stress and drama free. I understand challenge builds character, but at 45, I have all the character I need. Now I just want to sit down, open a bottle of Shiraz, drink my wine, read a good book, watch something entertaining or thought provoking on TV or Netflix, share the company of my man, my kids, and occasional great friends, and be happy. That's my super power.

Whats yours?

C-O-U-R-T-E-S-Y.....Courtesy, Courtesy

O.k. So the title of my blog today is Courtesy and that is the closest I have ever come to leading a cheer, and thank god I didn't have put on the uniform or use the pom poms. With my legs,  that would not be a pretty sight.

Courtesy, its a commonly used word, but not so common in practice. Truth be told, there are a lot of discourteous people out there. I don't know how or when it happened, but somewhere along the line we gave up.

 Sometimes its as simple or difficult as respecting other peoples time. As in the woman in Subway last evening. My 20 year old son went into to Subway to order a sandwich. He was hungry after a long day at college and wanted something simple, that he didn't have to wait for, little did he know he'd chosen the wrong place. Subway seemed to fit the bill and moms wallet. He was in a great mood when he got out of the car, but when he returned 26minutes later, well suffice it say, the happy had gone. 

You see the Subway was empty when he entered, save for one other customer and her friend and the sandwich artist (yes that's what they call themselves). Brandon is patient and kind and though he might be tempted, he would never cause a public scene, although that doesn't mean he wouldn't have liked to tell the woman customer to zip her lip and move on (although as a 20 year old college student I'm fairly certain he would have chosen other, more intense language). You see said woman customer decided to make small talk with her sandwich artist. Asking everything from where she went to school, to what her career dreams were, to where she was born. As she "chatted" the line grew, but the chat continued. Either completely oblivious or completely inconsiderate and lacking in all courtesy for the time of those waiting, she continued her conversation digging for details about a a young woman she didn't know and would likely never see again. As I waited in the car I wondered what had happened to my son, were they baking fresh bread? What could be taking so long? In the end, Miss DIScourtesy, who spent her time with the Artist spinning a conversation of digressing time, back to child hood (since I assume she wasn't receiving the forthcoming answers she had hoped for about future dreams)  purchased a Salad. That's right a salad, doused in enough dressing that it defeated its own purpose and she might as well have ordered two 12 inch subs and filled up her belly for the same calorie count. Brandon's order took 3 minutes and when he told the clearly agitated Sandwich artist, as she asked him how he was, "I'm fine thank you, I just want to get my sandwich and go home".  With a sympathetic exchange of glances which said 'I know what you mean', she happily and efficiently made his order and got him on his way.

Courtesy is simply a dieing virtue. The slow death can be seen by that woman in the grocery store who gets in the express lane with a basket that clearly has 10 times more than the 15 item limit then proceeds to pull out her wad of coupons at the counter holding up the "Express" lane even longer. It could be that guy on the freeway who decides to creep his way as far forward as possible up the emergency lane after his merge lane has ended so he can squeeze in 4 cars further ahead.

Discourtesy, could be the teenagers on the Max line who refuse to stand up and offer their seats to the 84 year old woman or the grandfatherly figure with a cane. You can see courtesy die in the eyes of the driver who  insists on making their right hand turn even though you are still in the crosswalk either cutting you off at the front or grazing your backside.

The death of courtesy is the is the person who pushes their way past you in a crowd slamming their shoulder against yours knocking your coffee out of your hand, never stopping  to apologize or say excuse me.

Courtesy is defined as:

The showing of politeness in one's attitude and behavior toward others. A polite speech or action, esp. one required by convention.

Synonyms politeness - civility - comity - urbanity - mannerliness

Is it really that difficult? If we as parents teach it, instill it, insist upon it, in our children, maybe, just maybe we can keep it alive and bring its resurgence around.   I have taught my boys to always think of others, to observe their surrounding and be polite and civil according to each situation. Manners used to be an important element in the nurturing and molding of our children.  I thinks for the sake of society and the prevention of anarchy, we need to get back on track.

All for one and One for All

All for one and one for all - this is the basis on which Unions promote themselves.  The premise being that if the "we" ban together to stand against the "them", then better workplace practices will prevail. Better wages, better benefits, a safer environment, and long term job security. Once upon a time..........And they all lived happily ever after. Isn't that the way all fairy tales begin and end?

I've experienced both union and non-union work environments, and I much prefer the latter.  Let me explain why.

Based on my own personal experience, I believe unions are no different than any other big business in America, making a profit off the low wage workers they claim to represent. Unions sell themselves on the precept of negotiating the best wage and benefits possible for the body they represent, but if you've ever worked in an environment that transitioned from non-union to union while you were actively employed, you may not have seen it this way.

For the lazy worker who just wants to be paid for showing up, the Union is a gold mine. Unions promote equality and tenure. If you remain with an employer long enough, you are protected against layoffs, because that working single mother who was hired last summer and puts in long hours and works twice as hard as you, will be the first on the list to go. Last hired, first fired.

For those who aspire to be great, to do their best, to shine, you won't find any recognition and praise in a Union environment. Unions promote mediocrity. Promotions, salary increases, opportunity.....they are all determined by tenure, and your actual performance is of minimal consequence. You will receive the same salary increase as that guy sitting next to you who spends his time surfing the net, playing games on Facebook, clipping his fingernails. You arrive on time everyday, reliable, ready to work..he shows up late if he shows up at all, he uses every last hour of sick and vacation time he accrues, and he spends the first hours of his day, going for coffee and a doughnut. You work through lunch to meet your deadline, he never misses a lunch and they are usually long., Is that beer you smell on his breath? You stay late to make sure that project is ready for presentation first thing in the morning, he asks you to finish his presentation slides and sneaks out early to go for happy hour and to watch the football game at the sports-bar around the corner.  The awesome thing is, in the eyes of the Union, the two of you are equal, worthy of the same pay. Next year when cutbacks hit, you'll get the pink-slip because he was hired 6 days before you. 

So what does the typical worker who makes $11.50/hr (not even a living wage job) get for his $50/month union dues. The union uses the money to support politics. That's right politics! They even try to influence who you should vote for and they contribute HEAVILY to campaigns.  They claim they use it for litigation purposes while defending employees against unfair practices, but how often does the employee win, and what compensation do they really see?  They use money to pay Union negotiators to work with your employer when contracts expire and new ones need to be put in place, billing the members of the local chapter for hundreds of hours to make little if any change to the contracts, few of which are beneficial to the "we". Most changes swing favor to the "them".   Billions of dollars a year are paid to these big business bullies who play on the weakness of people in need, and the truth is,  they are no more about the "we" than the "them" they claim to protect you against.

The days of Jimmy Hoffa unions, beating down opponents with a baseball bat to the knee caps, may be a thing of the past, but they are just as sly, and just as greedy, and just as corruptible as always.

I would rather take my chances with the employer directly. I would much prefer to negotiate my own contract specific to my needs. I think fostering a healthy pattern of open communication, working hard to prove myself, fulfilling and exceeding the obligations and expectations placed on me can do much more for me than a Union Representative.  I think hard work, and a strong ethic can go a long way to fueling a healthy relationship with an employer. If it doesn't work then perhaps its not where you belong and you should seek a new opportunity.

I know some people are huge supporters of the Unionization of American workers, but I am staunchly opposed. What are your thoughts?

Flavor or Flight

Yesterday, while having lunch with three of my favorite people in the world, in a quaint little Parisian style cafe in downtown Portland, OR, the topic of conversation, which always crosses all genres and planes, took  my mind and imagination to an interesting place.

The question was simple, but the more you think about it the more complex it becomes.

Would you give up your sense of taste for the ability to fly?

Immediately, while enjoying the flavor of a savory Croque Monsieur with Pomme Frittes and a lovely light garlic aoli, I said no, absolutely not.  I find great joy in life through my exploration of flavors found in wonderful foods and spices. I can't imagine a life of no taste. 

But then came another revelation....without taste, we would have no smell, because the two are symbiotic. You can't have one without the other.  Have you ever had a nasty cold that was so bad you literally had no desire to eat because you couldn't taste anything anyway?

So I had to think. And as I pondered the idea of never again having to smell the unwashed man sitting across from me on the Max train, or the hipster who refuses to use any body odor deterrent in the middle of summer, or the gases that emit from my children and pets on occasion (yes the smell is so powerful at times, you CAN taste it). No more sewage smell on Davis Street, no more vomit, no more wet dog, oh what bliss....The Euphoria was making my head spin.  But wait, that would also mean no more fresh laundry, or garlic, or onion, or fresh paint. No more coconut, or chocolate, no more vanilla cupcakes, or hair perm (yes, that is in the positives...don't judge me for it. )

And after all the pondering, and weighing of my options, I still came to the same conclusion,  giving up taste for flight would be an absolutely unlimited and without regret, NO THANK YOU!.  The positive far outweighs the bad, and I can always plug my nose if I don't like the smell of something, or spit it out if I don't like the taste of something. But the percentage of  things I love and appreciate, are too great to sacrifice.

There is of course the novelty that if all food was about sustenance only, then obesity would never be a problem. There would be no such thing as cravings. I would eat and drink for fuel only, not for the joy or the social experience of it. This reminds of a diet I was on once in which all the food was flavorless and the equality of cardboard. If I want flavorless food I'll order nutri-system or eat rice cakes.  Been there, done that, not worth the sacrifice. :)

In the end, my resolved answer remains the same as my gut instinct instance response.

Flavor or Flight,  I want flavor.  I didn't even take the time to consider the pros and cons of flight, Flavor was my deciding factor.  Besides, I harbor a deep rooted fear of heights, and fear of falling (I fall down enough from 5'2" just standing on the ground, we don't need to add any height to the equation).

What would you do?

Snelling, Grunts, and Giggles

This one is for all the women out there who love their men, but could really celebrate a good nights rest without all the snoring.

I love my Jeff.  He's a good man but sleeping next to a wind turbine could be more peaceful sometimes than sleeping next to him. Freight trains are more peaceful.  The man can snore, and depending how tired he is, does he have a cold, did he have a beer, or maybe he's just having a really solid nights sleep, his snoring is more like SNELLING.  Snelling is the art of taking the snoring to the audible decibel level of yelling.  Its as if he is snoring through a megaphone.  Snoring + Yelling = Snelling.

Yes my friends, Jeff can be a real SNELLER.

We have a deal in place. You see, first I try asking him to turn over.  Usually the Snore or Snell first becomes intolerable when it is directed three inches from my ear.  The 'Ask" usually receives a clear but civil grunt and the roll over occurs. Sometimes this is just enough to lower the sound long enough for me to fall asleep and all is well.

On occasion the "Ask" receives a GROWL , not so civil. But as he is asleep and usually unaware of his lack of social grace, I'll overlook it.  :) The roll over occurs, and again may or may not be sufficient...the tick tock of the clock and my patience and 2 a.m. will tell.

ON some nights, if the snoring is anticipated, many times I will prepare the couch for him, neatly draped with a clean sheet and blanket, before I go to bed. Our standing agreement states that if his snoring becomes intolerable and prevents me from sleep, I can ask him to sleep on the couch, and he will do so without issue, It is my responsibility to make the arrangements for him and he will restore the couch in the morning when he wakes up. Many times, I am committed to trying to suck it up and get through it, as it doesn't seem fair to send him to the couch every night, but there are those nights,  that no amount of patience or tolerance will suffice.

Last night, Jeff, who is getting a terrible cold and has developed a very nasty cough with it, offered outright to simply sleep on the couch. We made the couch up, gave each other a hug and kiss goodnight, he took his NyQuil and went to bed.

I tried not to... I truly did, but the devil on my shoulder gave a nasty beet down to the angel on the other shoulder with the new pitchfork he got at Christmas time in his stocking, and as I made way down the hallway, my little hands clapped and my mouth smiled at the idea of a peaceful nights rest in my big bed all alone. Cool sheets, pulled nice and straight and tight, no noise, no growls, just peaceful sleep with neatly tucked covers.

Its odd, because when I sleep alone, I could literally fold the covers back in the morning stand up, and fold the covers back up and the bed would be made, but when Jeff is in the bed, the covers are twisted, and jumbled, wadded and crumpled, and it looks like a cyclone ripped through our room as we slept?

I've come to the conclusion, that though I sleep more peacefully but shorter when Jeff is with me, sometimes it's ok to sleep alone, knowing he is near by, and to sleep more soundly but longer. The dreams are more weird when he's not there, and slightly more disturbing, but the sleep is uninterrupted.  I think an occasional night alone is not such a bad thing. :)

I love Jeff, And we are by no means heading down the path to I Love Lucy days, but........when snoring turns to snelling and there is no hope, its off to the couch he goes.

XY vs. XX

Little Girls are Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice and Little Boys are Hammers and Nails and Puppy Dog Tails (though to be honest, that last one kind of grosses me out). Those are the traditional characterizations of raising boys and girls and for the most part, and oddly I think, they hold true even in today's modern society.

Lets start with the opposites to this traditional view. There are always areas of grey and anomalies to the contrary for any sterotype. Some girls are tomboys and have a predication towards the rough and tumble world of boys with its skinned knees and bruised chins and dirty fingernails. Some boys are uncommonly sensitive in nature and have a yearning for pretty and clean things and an aversion to the typically muddy world of their gender. Many people in today's society assume that if child is definitively the polar opposite of their stereotype that it is an indicator of their future sexual orientation. That is simply obtuse and categorically ridiculous.  Keep in mind. always, that no matter what the stereotypes indicate or contra indicate, these are children. Children grow and develop and change many  times on their way to who they will become.  A little girl who enjoys playing with bugs might grow up to become a scientists, or a horticulture guru, or Supermodel, or the mother of the next President. A little boy who likes dolls, might become the worlds leading specialist in transplant surgery, or a professor, or Prize fighter, or the amazing father of triplets. You never know, what they will become and limiting your expectations because they don't fit the stereotype is shortsighted and prejudicial.

Now with all that said, everyone knows I am a mom to two very typical boys, and I think the universe knew what it was doing when it made me a mom.  Boys are amazing. They are little balls of energy and vigor in miniature human form. They play tough and they play muddy, but they play fair and without some of the nastiness girls do.  Boys fight, but as soon as the fight is over they are best friends again. My observations have shown me that boys are kinder, less vengeful than girls.  They wrestle for that prized hot-wheel, but when they are done they dig that fort out together with precision team work. Boys demand more physical energy from a mom.

I think that Girls tend to be very different. I have witnessed firsthand friends who have daughters. Most girls take much more emotional energy from a mom.  Its true, a girl is much more likely to sit in the same room with you and have a conversation, and go shopping, or participate in typical traditional female bonding experiences, but they can also be much quicker to anger and slower to forgive. I believe most Girls tend to gossip more, talk about their friends behind their backs and have nasty demeanor's stemming from insecurities and jealousy (it's rare that you find a boy who does this).  Girls seem to be quicker to rebel. I think the emotional makeup of girls requires them to seek out companionship (thus the hanging out with mom) but they desire to garner focus and attention on themselves. Just as most native cultures believe there is only 1 alpha male per tribe, I believe females rival for the same elevation.

Now I know this sounds like a lot of generalization, buts its just meant as a basis and not intended to be all encompassing. There are many girls who consciously elect not to follow the standard. Just as there are boys who clearly don't fit the stereotypical mold either. I think my point is that, as a mother, I think the energy required to raise boys vs. girls is very different. One is physical the other is emotional. I think most moms excel much greater at one than the other. Some can be spectacular at both. But we are predisposed to a proclivity that's tips the scales, however extreme or slight, in one direction or the other. 

The universe equipped me for boys. I much prefer the physical demands over the emotional.  I don't have patience for the emotional rollercoaster of raising a daughter.  I love my boys, even with their crude humor, the constant outcropping of smells from bodily functions, the dirty socks, and messy rooms (though I think the messiness is equal in girls as well), their grunts and groans, and extreme eating, I welcome and cherish it all. My boys, however testy they get with mom nagging, love me unconditionally and would stand up in defense for me if necessary anytime, anywhere, to any one.

The universe never gets it wrong.  And I'm proof of that.

My home is full of testosterone with just right dose of estrogen to balance it out and make it work.  Any more estrogen and we might all sit around making doilies and sharing tea time. :) 

Closure

Today I am seeking closure and I promise my readers this is the last blog I will write about the family dynamics which have traumatized my world the past few days.

Today I write of closure.  Closure can be found in any number of ways, and some are more complete than others. If we are committed to putting a stop to the never ending cycle of dysfunction, no matter what form it takes, closure can be found.

In the last 7 years, since relocating to the Northwest, I have repeatedly faced the rejection and ridicule of a brother  who I had hoped to get to know and be a part of.  In the past 20 years my brother has seen me only 4-6 times and has actually sat down to talk with me for less hours than that. He truly knows nothing of me except through stories created by others, who themselves know nothing about me. He feigns effort publicly, only because he believes it's what's expected, but in truth its all an illusion.

In the last two years alone, after beginning to follow his blog and reading about how purportedly important family was to him, I reached out...a lot. Every gesture, every offer, save 1 , was met with rejection and rebuff. There was always an excuse, always a reason, or even more truthful, outright ignoring of the invitation until it had passed. He repeatedly sent me messages about it being a two way street and my obligation to pursue the relationship, but showed no mutual effort himself. I offered breakfasts, lunch, dinner, movies, BBQ, and even box seats to the hockey team while I worked there.  All were in vain.  In the meantime, I witnessed time and again family gatherings and special events taking place (holidays, weddings, baby showers, birthdays) mere moments from my own front door, to which I was excluded unilaterally without pause.

This weekend, the dysfunction reached a crescendo. As the tragedy of it drew to its close, I found myself with a clarity that had been there all along but I had resisted. Family is not about blood, it is about MUTUAL respect, acceptance, and equality. No one family member is more worthy of love or praise than another. No one family member is better than another. Its true I talk a lot about forgiveness, but its a two way street. Jealousy and self-centeredness have no room in a healthy relationship. The Narcissist world can only revolve around them because it is so small and has no room for others to shine or stand out.  

I lost something valuable this weekend. I lost a relationship with my mother, not by choice. I am saddened deeply by this. It was tainted and poisoned by the hateful and selfish acts of a brother who was unwilling to let a daughter do something lovely for her mother without him. It was about a gift from me to her, but it usurped his light, and therefore had to be destroyed. It was sad, and childish, and vindictive, fueled by jealousy and cruelty. I hope to be able to salvage it in time, but for now I must respect her requests. But I gained something too. I gained perspective. Self respect and freedom. I have severed and closed the book finally. No longer willing to subject myself to repeated heartache and tears.

He no longer has the ability or right to idly witness the happy moments and times in my life through the cyber world since he could never make the effort to do it in the real world. Its ironic because I started this blog as a way to get to know him.  To be vulnerable and share a piece of who I am with him. In the end, I continue my blog for me. It is cathartic at times. Funny, creative, serious, poignant, strange. Its is a reflection of me on any given day in any given moment. Today it is about closure.

Damned if you do...Damned if you don't

Tonight was a night full of drama. I detest drama, and anyone who causes it.....

Long story shortened as much as I can.....My mom lives 2000 miles away and though I would love to see her more often, I am only able to afford the trip every 1-2 years.  We were estranged for a long time, so since we reconnected several years ago, I really appreciate the time I get.

My last visit with Mom was in September of 2011. I was not able to see her in 2012 but planned my visit for 2013 intentionally around her 70th birthday.  I picked the dates 6 months ago, and in November I made a big decision. I remembered, as a child my mom working hard to make my birthday and other occasions very special.  She threw me birthday parties and invited people to help me celebrate most special occasions in my life.  I never realized then how important and valuable that would be to me later in life. How much I would cherish those memories.

This year mom turns 70 and I decided as a special gift from me to her, I wanted to use my weekend with her to throw her a surprise party.  Her house is small, but if I was strategic in who I invited and maximized my time and resources , I thought it could be really special.  I was selective in the invites because though notably, the party is for mom, I think more important than who is there, is that it is positive and drama free, no conflict or baggage or unnecessary tensions. I chose to avoid siblings who required forced civility or hypocrisy, and I focused on guests who would ultimately uplift my mother , celebrate her, and enjoy each others company.  In the end, it is my gift to my mom, and I wanted it to be something I was proud of and comfortable with.

Now for the drama,  I have 5 siblings. For whatever reason my siblings and I have all gone our separate ways in life and only a few stayed connected much beyond cursory communications through the years.  7 years ago I made the decision, following divorce to relocate to the northwest to try to build a relationship with a sister and brother who live here and were already very close to each other.  I spoke semi-regularly to my sister and had hoped to build on that.  Without getting into the gory details, the fantasy far exceeded the reality and those relationships never truly came to life.  The relationships struggled and wavered, imploded, died, resurfaced, wilted, revived and ultimately, after this evening have disintegrated. All spark of hope was doused and I have accepted that there is nothing I can do, or to be more honest am willing to do.  Too much energy, too many tears, too much self doubt has already been expended on a need for validation and acceptance that is unnecessary and destructive. In the end, the siblings I found myself connected to , were those who remained in California and though it requires commitment and effort, we work to be a part of each others lives.

The drama ensued this evening when the siblings who have propagated and bred an exclusive environment in all family, holiday, and special occasions for the the last 10 years or more, were suddenly offended when they were the ones on the end of the exclusion. It would appear that is acceptable for them to chose who to exclude and ban from family gathering and events, but it is not allowable for anyone else to exercise the same privileged.  In all fairness, it wasn't a premeditated move on my part intended to spark a battle, but the truth is, we have all done our own separate things for so long, I didn't see this as any different. I was simply following precedents and staying true to the culture and examples set by those who were now playing victim. Time and again gatherings have occurred to which only specific siblings were invited or banned and I simply believed it was my prerogative to invite who I saw as most appropriate for the intended end result and desired atmosphere.  During a recent family visit to Southern California, my youngest brother was banned from visiting my oldest brother for the duration of a visit by the sibling who now protests, simply because of past perceived transgressions. Ultimately it is my mothers birthday, but I believed the occasion would be better served by reserving space according to the size of her home , for those who will surely get along and compliment each others attendance. For those not participating, I encouraged them to do something separately.

The short of it is, that there were things said, and behaviors exhibited, accusations bantered about, and cruel tones and words spewed forth in a public forum which can not be taken back even when deleted.  And as a result, the end of my hope for reconciliation has resulted. All interest has irrevocably dissolved.

No more rejection, no more self doubt, no more begging for forgiveness for sins not committed but yet perceived, no more hypocrisy, or false platitudes, and no more pain. I refuse to feel bad or remorseful for efforts and hopes of creating something beautiful and fun for my mother out of love.

Don't cast stones and accusations at me without first looking in the mirror and owning your own actions.  I did not create the air of exclusion, but I have no qualms about respecting it if it is to ensure a drama free happy occasion and gift from a daughter to her mother.

In this instance I found myself Damned if I do and Damned if I don't..... but damned if I don't was something I can live with.

I heard from you today...

Sharon, I heard from you today and it made me smile.

That brief conversation, the simple gesture of reaching out inspired me and buoyed my spirits. Perhaps it is one more sign that the new year has brought a turning of the pages so to speak as I start a new chapter and close out the old.

As with any relationship, especially that of sisters,  we have experienced our highs and lows. But I am ever diligent in my faith that you and I will always find our way back. Across distance and time, its important you know I love you and want only for you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.

You sounded good today, fulfilled and whole. Sometimes a fresh perspective is all it takes to begin anew. You got your fresh start. Sometimes it the big things that change us, but more often than not,  its a conglomeration of all the little things.

I look forward to laughing with you or just bending your ear now and again when I need reassurance that I'm not crazy. Although,  if I am crazy, feel free to call me on it.  I just look forward to having someone to talk with.

I know that on the surface we have little in common, but its those differences that will bring us together and make life interesting. The differences challenge us to see life through a different looking glass, and to open ourselves to new ideas.  I can honestly say that my  closest friends and I are all very unique and different  and yet we find common interests that bring us shared memories and great experiences.

I don't expect us to always agree, but I think we can always respect each others ideas and thoughts enough to support each other through whatever lies ahead. 

I am honored to be your sister, and your friend, and I look forward to sharing our lives with each other through conversation and laughter and tears and the comfort of knowing we are never alone.

I love you.  Thank you for calling me today.