Being Wooed

Here's a little quiz. Just whisper the answer to yourself.

Do you like to be told you're attractive?
Do you enjoy feeling smart?
Do you like someone laughing at your humor?
Do you like to fall asleep when someone has just said, "I love you."

Well, of course you do. We all do.

I'm no expert at marriage; I'm probably a better expert at divorce. Yet I do know that anyone who consistently makes you feel smart, funny and attractive is wooing you. And if you could bottle that phase of respect and appreciation, no one would ever need a divorce lawyer.

Prejudice

Everyone pretends they're not prejudiced. Myself included. Yet we are all a jumble of life experiences, family history and whatever else has jaded our minds.

Here's how honest I'm willing to be. I think women are smarter than men. In a jam, I will pick a woman EVERY time to get me out of a mess. Or, at least hold my hand through it.

I can honestly say I don't pass judgement based on color. On the other hand, I pass a ton of judgement based on language skills, how someone dresses, the number of tattoos, and if their underwear is showing.

I'm terrified of teenage boys. Especially if they are traveling in a pack. If they are tattooed and showing their ridiculous boxer shorts, I want to run. (Really, I want to grab them by the scruff of their necks and have a serious talk with them but then I remember that I value my life.)

I'm old but I'm learning. I helped to raise a baby who became a teenage boy and is now a full-fledged adult. Often I get out of my car and three little boys -- staying with their grandparents who live across the street -- come running toward me. I adore them. They will all be teenage boys the next time I blink.

And I will start to trust teenage boys again.

Just Beneath the Surface

Some people are stoic. Or good actors. Or totally in control of their emotions. I am not a member of any of these clubs.

Regardless of the emotion, I have no control. I have broken into hysterical giggling at church and even had a couple of Mary Tyler Moore moments at funerals. During the children's portion of worship last Sunday, one of our boys developed an amazing fascination with his genitals.

And I can cry for no reason or every reason. The best thing about showers is the ability to cry and no one can hear you. I cry at touching commercials or songs that remind me of fun times, bad times, people I miss, etc. That commercial with the dogs in shelters sends me running for the Puffs.

Today is my 47th birthday. As much as all my Facebook friends think I'm hung up on the age, I'm not. In a weird way, I like my age. I'm certainly proud of my accomplishments and old enough to know I've lived (so far) an extremely blessed life.

When my stepson (I HATE calling him that!) was little, we would say our prayers. When we would get to the "God bless so and so and so and so" he would be so exhausted just trying to get through the list. I cherish that memory and I hope he does too. I also hope he still says his own version of that prayer. His statement to me, "I have so many people that love me" resonates with me today. Cards, Facebook notes and more have made my day.

Vanity is supposed to be wrong and I guess it is. Where do we draw the line? Am I not supposed to notice that I've aged 10 years in the last year and 1/2?

I've laughed today. I've cried in the shower -- mainly because of one email that reminded me of what was. Every emotion has reared its beautiful and ugly head.

It's my birthday and I'm embracing the emotions.

Suicide

Yesterday, I put my head in my hands and said a prayer for a lost friend. I received the information that someone I cared about committed suicide.

Very shortly after my ex-husband and I separated, we lost a friend to suicide. This is always heartbreaking and perplexing to me. Is it money? You can't handle that your life has taken a tragic turn? Is it love? Is it having no one in your corner?

Frankly, I believe that every single person has SOMEONE in their corner. Just look around a little harder.

My Aunt Grace committed suicide in my childhood. I was at Aunt Hazel's when we received the word and I'll never forget it.

Take your religious beliefs, your family history and a million other thoughts about suicide. Roll them around your brain. Ok, now you're in my world.

I believe the lyrics from the Kenny Chesney song, "Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to go right now." I believe that Jack Kevorkian (Dr. Death) is onto something when he's helping terminally ill people make the transition.

To the best of my knowledge, my friend did not fit either of these situations. He was divorced -- sad but not terminal. He had two teenage daughters who worshipped him. He may have lost some money, a big title and a lot of the perks associated with being a Big Player.

Now he's dead. I will go to a funeral this week. I don't understand it at all.

It's Not Really a Phone

I love that Zits comic strip. Even though my stepchildren are of legal age, it gives me little glimpses and reminders of the teenage years.

My latest fave featured the teenager ignoring the ringing cell phone. In the final frame, he tells his father, "If it was important, they would've texted me."

I'm about 50 years and a hundred light years away from this fictional character. Yet, I get it.

Remember the big freakin' deal when President Obama didn't want to give up his Blackberry? I get it.

Charleton Heston said he would give up his guns "when they pried him from his cold, dead hands." I'm starting to have that kind of attachment to my phone.

Except, it's not really meant to be a phone. It's a message receptor. I can get emails and text messages. And like Zits, I am far more likely to respond to an email or a text.

My reception must be horrible. My mother tells me this all the time.

But for those of us who tend to speak without thinking, the keyboard has proven to be a Godsend.

Not a Failure

In the interest of full disclosure, I am not a fan of Al Gore. I think he may have good intentions but, like a lot of people, is caught in the whirlwind of political life. I don't like it that's he's all about green living, yet seems unconcerned with his carbon footprint. And for the record, I'm not super concerned about mine. But I'm not making money and collecting prizes talking about global warming. I'm making this up but it seems to me that he is pontificating while he owns about 5 mansions with the staff needed to keep everything running while he burns fuel on private jets so people can knight him and grovel about how his varied causes will save the world. Not buying it.

Also for the record, I have nothing against rich people with a cause, private planes and the many perks that seem to accompany them.

I seem to always like political wives more than the politician they married. I think Tipper seems like someone who would belly laugh, take to the dance floor and then take a photo of the good times. She also seems like someone who has jumped through hoops as a political wife while tending to kids and carving out a niche for herself.

I can only imagine him (wooden reputation & stoic persona) telling her, "We must show that I am passionate!" That clip of their on-stage make-out session at the Democratic National Convention will never die. I am humiliated for her and with the news of their separation, it runs over and over and over.

(Here's an even weirder thing: I like Bill Clinton more than I like Al Gore. I know ... makes no sense to me either.)

But back to the Gore's public separation. It's two-weeks after their 40th wedding anniversary. They successfully raised four children and have amassed riches most of us will never know. They are going their separate ways and the public statement says, "No adultery" (HUGE!) and no hard feelings. I tend to believe it.

Sometimes people aren't meant to be together forever. I was with my ex-husband for almost 20 years. My in-laws (my oldies) were together for over 60 years. My parents are approaching their 50th anniversary. Contrary to my personal history, I am a great believer and great fan of marriage.

But I cringe when anyone associates the end of a marriage with failure. Forty years together is not a failure. I doubt they look at each other and their relationship and think of it as a failure.

It's a marriage that ended. That simple and that complex.