Riley Writings

Turning a Blind Eye

2011-11-11T08:19:00.000-08:00

Admit it. It's so easy to do. Someone in need is right in front of you and you change directions, look the other way, duck & cover. Often, we then say a prayer of thanks that this person, this particular situation is not ours.

I am absolutely appalled at the Penn State scenario. Heartbroken for the victims and heartbroken for those who will carry the stigma, whether they were involved or not. I don't think putting Penn State grad or Penn State athlete on your resume is going to cause you anything but trouble for the coming years.

Of this whole saga, the most troubling thing to me was the protests and riots over the 84-year old, turn a blind eye, make a b'jillion dollars coach being fired. I would feel a whole lot better about our society if the riots were for the victims.

I feel certain I would properly report a child being abused or molested. I'm quite smug about helping children, animals and anyone I sense to be in need.

Yet, I drive everyday by people with those signs: "Homeless & hungry." "A veteran who needs a leg up." "Hungry kids, will work for food."

I drive by. I often don't believe the signs.

I'm questioning whether I'm any better than others who witness awfulness.

Being Liturgist

2011-11-05T09:55:00.000-07:00

I do not know the actual statistics but I know that more people would rather observe their own funeral than stand up somewhere and speak. In the top ten list of fears, public speaking always comes out as number one.

It's not my number one fear, but it's up there. So that's why I can confess to a little nervousness about beginning my month-long stint as liturgist in my church.

I rotate with Jay, Joe, John, and Matt. They all do an awesome job and regardless of which one I follow, I have that deep fear that the congregation is going to be disappointed.

When my minister asked me to join the rotation, I (for a moment) thought he might be confusing me with someone else, then I thought he might be kidding. I have finally figured out that he is amazing with figuring out what the church needs and also helping with individual growth.

When I say, "I am not worthy." He says, "No, you're not. Do it anyway."

In less than 24 hours, I will be liturgist. I will do it this month and several others next year. I have written my prayers, read my bible passages and certainly prayed for guidance.

Hypocrisy? Sometimes. Always. I know I sin. I suspect you do too. I suspect the clergy I adore and respect (current & former) do too. I love the story about the man wagging his finger at a church-going man with "Why would I go to church? It's filled with hypocrites!" And the answer is, "Isn't that the best place for us?"

What gets me through it is this. I am not public speaking. I am doing a public service for my Lord.

(This sounds so holier than thou and I don't know how to fix it!) Please muddle through and see the bigger message: Be involved! Join a house of worship!

Belly Laughs

2011-10-25T13:41:00.000-07:00

This is a photo from my childhood. I think I posted it years ago on another blog but it's worth posting again.

This is what childhood is supposed to be. Pink bellies, bathing suits and neighborhood fun. I wish Richie and Ronnie and Jan and Tammy, Tara and the multitudes of others in our neighborhood were in this photo. I wish I had a photo of Rick Lawrence and Tom Bradley to contribute. I wish David Hinesley was in this photo because this is probably the age I began my crush on him that lasted for decades. I wish some of the weird dudes, the cool dudes and happening girls were there but I guess that came later when personalities developed.

We're so scared now. (And rightly so.) Kids are only allowed to go so many houses down and 10-year olds have to check in with their cell phone. Responsible? Yes. But also a little sad that the absolute reckless freedom of running like crazy, climbing fences and trees with abandon and all that childhood fun may be lost to a new generation.

The world changes and you all know I embrace certain changes and buck the others like a mule.

My greatest wish for children is to have faith, have great parents and have a neighborhood like the one I grew up in.

All Muddled Up

2011-10-23T11:21:00.000-07:00

I hope you are having a good day. In fact, I hope everything in your life is aligned with God and there is not a worry in your head.

The reality is that you probably have something niggling at you. You are worried about a spouse who drinks, a kid who lies, a child in your life who might be bullied. Or worse, the bully.

You might be worried about superficial stuff like the lines on your face or the cellulite on your thighs.

I spent a lot of years thinking I could decide what to hide and what to share when the probems of my life made me a little crazy. My minister says that there is no shame in telling the truth; the shame is in secrets. I love him but he is living a dream.

There is no shame in telling people you love and trust about the issues and pain running through your brain. Yet, when you lose friends and lose jobs and lose hope because someone is now holding your decisions against you, there is shame.

We all say, "Love me, lean on me, I won't judge you." And yet, we do.

Stupid in an Educated Brain

2011-10-22T10:28:00.000-07:00

I went to college. Had a great time & learned some stuff. Mostly, I was exposed to cultures, ideas and beliefs I had never been exposed to earlier. I think that is what college is supposed to be.

I made some incredible friends who I hope will be my friends for the rest of my life. We played quarters, got tossed around at football games, broke some laws and many rules and survived.

At one point, I put on a cap and gown and received a degree. (Two, actually.) I am an educated person.

But, today I feel really stupid.

I do not understand why we have such division in this country. I do not know why I am supposed to side with Democrats or Republicans when I don't understand any of them. I do not understand why Congress (mostly made up of millionaires) is claiming to represent me -- a lowly worker. I don't understand why the only people who can run for office have to be wealthy or prostitute for lobbyist funds.

I do not understand why our country has sunk so low. Low standards for education, low standards for health care. I do not understand our current health care system, nor do I understand the changes proposed by either party.

I do not understand how our country has now tied its financial system to every other financial system in the world and we're failing. How do we owe this much to China? How do we have a banking system that we bail out (probably by borrowing more from China) yet it controls the world markets?

How do we have sports stars and entertainment stars bargaining for more b'jillions yet we have nations with starving and dying people trying to live on $2 a week for a family?

Outside my office, there is a large tv in the lobby. It stays on CNN. Occasionally, I look up and catch a story. For the last two weeks, we spent an absurd amount of time on the trial of Dr. Conrad Murray, aka Michael Jackson's killer.

I'm an educated person who feels really, really stupid.

Hang in there my friends

2011-10-22T08:19:00.000-07:00

This post might seem a bit cryptic. It's a shout out... a show of support ... a loving nod to many people I know and love who are struggling with ... well, let's just say they're struggling.

To J & J, You are amazing people who have dealt with a lot of adversity. I'm sorry your parents are hurting and mostly sorry that they're hurting you.

To D & S, your mom has some tough decisions to make soon. I hope you will both help her as she has tried to help you.

To T, you are being framed and we will figure something out. Regardless of the outcome, I am glad you are my friend.

To K, I want you to be healthy and well. I want to see you smile. Truthfully, I want to see you move on. (Sorry.)
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Mostly, I am just amazed at the power of friendship and the power of prayer. Hang in there, my friends. Some struggles are more visible than others.

And Where Does the Apple Fall?

2011-10-10T11:40:00.000-07:00

For those of you without a sense of humor or a sense of irony, I strongly advise you to come back another time. This story is not politically correct. But, it is true and it embodies the connectivity of parent and child -- even with a wicked sense of humor.

You've been warned.

The Humane Society of Indianapolis sent out a plea last weekend. It was on twitter and facebook and sent to those of us on the email list. The food pantry was bare. Like food pantries that many people rely on to feed their families, this pantry helps families keep beloved pets fed.

I knew what I could do. And I knew my parents would help. So, on Sunday morning, my dad and I are loading my trunk with pet food before services. As we walked into church, he said, "Your mom and I can't stand the thought of an animal in need." We started talking about how the commercials with lonely/lost/hungry/abused animals make us crazy. And he said, "We just turn the channel. Can't stand it." I agreed. I'm johhny fast on the remote myself.

As we walked through the parking lot that led us to worship, my dad said, "Those commercials with the starving children don't bother me nearly as much."

At that moment, I knew the apple had not fallen far from the tree.

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Note from author: I beg of you friends. My father would put his life on the line for any child, any dog, any person. Please see the humor and know that I am not showcasing him in any other way.

Abortion and the Death Penalty

2011-09-22T18:36:00.000-07:00

Heavy subject. I know. Welcome back.

I am terribly torn about this man that was put to death on Wednesday night. I used to think that some of these people who might be wrongly convicted were still ok to be in prison because their rap sheets were so long that they had to be guilty of many things. But death? Come on! His majority of people who testified against him recanted their testimony. There was zero DNA evidence against him. But, he died by lethal injection by the courts and the government of our USA. I am also deeply troubled by the number of people we find not guilty as science, like DNA testing, catches up with reality.

Then I start listening to the politicians and their posturing. It seems the same peole who will wave the disgusting pictures of fetuses and partial birth abortions are the same people who want to bring back the firing squad.

No, I'm not picking on Republicans. I'm picking on those of us who choose not to be humanitarians.

I have never been faced with the unplanned pregnancy but I'm pretty sure I know what my choice would've been. I'm also pretty sure I would not have wanted my life, my future child's life or my fetus' life (however you choose to view it) held in the hands of a politician.

It's also pretty unlikely that I will be in the wrong place, wrong time and be accused of gunning down a policeman.

I have no way of tying a nice bow around this and wrapping it up nice and neatly. I'm not suggesting that the woman with the unwanted pregnancy should've had an abortion so her child didn't wind up a criminal. I'm not suggesting that the criminal who was executed wasn't guilty.

I'm merely suggesting that is all messy and ugly and the politicians who reduce it all to a sound bite and a campaign slogan make me choke back the bile.

Relationships and Birthdays and Lessons Trying to Be Learned

2011-06-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

I am trying to be the person I want to become. Most days I fail miserably. I can turn into a judgemental, harpy person. Does it count that I'm trying?

Then I have a few days that string together ... like notes in a song I love. How trite is that?

Yesterday, I had birthday wishes on Facebook, my email, texts and voicemails. My Aunt Ann sang happy birthday to me and was a little p***'d off when my Uncle Harry got on the extension and interrupted her serenade. Our friends, the Englands, joined us for dinner and you know, they didn't have to do that. I talked to my Aunts -- Connie and Judy. Our cleaning lady (don't go there) left me a card and a flower. I met Abby and Big Sal for a drink and had a great time catching up.

Birthdays are great in that people acknowledge you and wish you well. If I'm living my life in the way I want to do it, I should do that with every encounter.

A big chunk of my work life is spent building (or trying to build) relationships. I am humbled and awed that the reason I enjoy my work so much is that I have such wonderful relationships with incredible friends and family. And that has helped me to build relationships with others.

Ok, this was a really sappy post. I'll get back to being snarky next time.

Is Social Media Wasting Your Time?

2011-06-14T13:53:00.001-07:00

I had a friend post something today that we, his facebook friends, should not be offended if he decides to close his page or stay away for a while. He has decided it is a distraction and ultimately, a time waster.

I am not offended. He's a smart guy with a busy life: family, travels a lot for work, etc. I respect his choice and, as he pointed out, any true friend can reach him through a variety of other avenues.

I have another friend who gave up facebook for Lent, which I also found admirable. She was really glad to be back on Easter but she kept the vow.

Texting is the only way I communicate with my son. His choice, but I have adapted.

We took a few days off to visit a lake house that our friends own. There was never a moment unplugged. I might have gone a few hours without checking email or looking at Facebook but someone else always kept me in the loop. We shuffled whose iPad or iPhone went on the speaker next because there was always music. Someone asked a question and 5 people Googled the answer.

Yet, I never felt disconnected from the people I shared this vacation with.

I don't think it's wasting our time. I think it's enhancing it.

It's a different world out there my friends. I like it. And. I'm just trying to keep up.

Most Marketing People are Crazy

2011-06-14T13:40:00.000-07:00

There's a common belief that marketing people -- and you can throw in sales people for good measure -- are slightly askew from the norm. We are.

We are the people who ask about the logo on your shirt and why you wear it. We want to understand your loyalties. We are the people who open EVERY SINGLE PIECE of our junk mail because we're interested in what other companies are doing.

We are the job that never stops and most of us who have chosen this type of career would have it no other way.

Let's get serious. My job is not world changing. It's not life changing. But something is always niggling in my brain ... Hmmm... wonder if I could convert that idea somehow? Is there a different way to sell that? Is there a new opportunity here?

I'm going to be out of the office for a few days and my company encourages "break away" time. My boss is the first to say, "You are covered. Enjoy!"

I love that attitude. But I also know that while I will kick back and enjoy myself for a few days, the iPad or the Blackberry is always near. No one will need me while I'm gone. My need is to keep up with what is going on.

You never know where the next idea will come from.

Sexting & Nudity & Weiner

2011-06-11T07:44:00.001-07:00

Outside my office sits a big flatscreen tv for members in the waiting area. It is always on CNN and when I am in my office, I can glance up and follow the news and commentary.

A couple of weeks ago, it was all about Arnold, his maid-girlfriend and his out-of-wedlock child. Now I get a steady stream of Weiner and his escapades.

We are all used to the stories of politician/public figure gone bad. Illicit affairs, hidden children, wives who stand by their man (and sentence their own punishment) and wives who stand strong for their children but send the strong message, "Get the *#@% out of here!"

I don't get Weiner. I don't get his need to send pictures of his privates to multiple women. I have great sympathy for his wife, a high powered official in her own right. She's not exactly living in his shadow. And, for extra fun, turns out she's pregnant with their first child.

I am not a prude but I don't get sexting. I had a friend tell me the other day that many men she knows have taken pictures of their privates the moment they get a camera or a phone with camera abilities. What? I told her to get new friends. She told me to stop being naive.

I am horrified when some young person I know puts a bikini photo on facebook. Or any photo that looks like a whore, or drunken whore. I guess my age is showing because I have worn a bikini in my day and I have certainly knocked back a few but I think these kids are committing some kind of educational/professional suicide before their adult lives even begin.

One of the benefits of age is I can honestly say that no one will photograph me in a bikini. Those days are long gone.

Weiner didn't do anything that jillions of others do all the time. But, he is a public figure and that brings its own level of press and scrutiny. The bigger question to me is -- WHY?

Entitled

2011-06-09T15:32:00.000-07:00

This is going to make some of you mad. But, I am mad.

Whatever happened to working for a living?

There's this whole gang/group of people out there with the singular goal of working the system. They need food stamps, they need school lunch programs, they need disability. They need help.

I met a young man today, one of 10 children, whose mother is taking the majority of his paycheck. She has addictions and is working the system.

I met another who told me her sister can't work because if she stands too long or sits too long, her joints hurt. Well, guess what? If you're over 40, you probably have some joints that hurt.

Many of us feel entitled to Social Security but honestly, that plan is on the bubble. And the truth is, we probably paid less in than we feel we are entitled to receive.

Is there an answer? I don't know. But I know for sure that I am sick and tired of helping a whole group of people who work the system.

On the other hand, I would give a kidney to someone who needs it. I'm not heartless -- just a little jaded.

Dog Rules

2011-06-05T08:56:00.001-07:00

We have a rule in our house that the dog is not allowed on the furniture. She has free reign to roam about the house. She is house broken and reasonably trustworthy. She has a perfectly comfortable bed in the laundry room and she often goes there to get away from us.

But, she has a wild side. It's almost like she wants to let us know that she will not be controlled. "Look at all these comfy places that no one is using!"

a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fgD1Q2bXcJs/TeuseoyjNfI/AAAAAAAAAbo/EXUMdc6NqjE/s1600/Gab%2Bon%2Bfurniture%2B005.jpg">

We have a rule about no dogs on the furniture. Gabby did not get the memo.

Exposure Equals Tolerance

2011-06-03T15:18:00.000-07:00

I just read a horrible article about a boy being bullied because he was, or appeared to act, homosexual.

I recently had a conversation with our copper, who guards our credit union, and I asked him about gang activity in Indianapolis. He gave me a lot more information than I really wanted to know. His perspective and his experience was enlightening. So many of the gang recruits are joining because they are protecting their racial territory. You don't see as many of the black gangs killing others as you do the black versus Hispanic situation. Then throw in poverty, ignorance, drugs, absent parents ... well, don't get me started.

When I was a young girl, dancing was my life. My sport of choice. I was also involved in community theater. At Butler/Jordan College of Music, my primary instructor was Mr. Copeland. He was as flamboyant and stereotypical as any gay man could be. I loved him madly. (My Dad used to refer to him as "Mrs. Copeland" just to annoy me but truly, my Dad doesn't have a prejudiced bone in his body.)

Mr. Copeland wanted me to attend many, many classes. It made me better and I think he liked having his "pet" students around. My parents couldn't afford 7-10 classes a week so he decided on a creative solution. I would be a demonstrator. (For those of you without dance experience, that's the person that stands in front of the class and demonstrates the move or the steps that the instructor expects everyone to do.)

I did this for years! The other demonstrator was a black girl, my age. We became fast friends. Some of my happiest memories are hanging with her between classes or the many times we were in the same show. I did not even notice that she was black and I don't think she really cared that I was white. We were friends.

In my feeble mind, bigotry equals ignorance. And, I am tired of it. I know, or have friends, or have coworkers, or have relatives who:

are black,
are Hispanic,
are gay,
are rednecks,
are ignorant,
are snobs,
are crazy.

Somehow, I manage to like, love or at least tolerate them all.

Let Summer Begin!

2011-05-27T15:09:00.000-07:00

We in the midwest have been burried in snow throughout the Winter and pounded with rain storms throughout the Spring.

Now, we are on the cusp of Summer. Bring....It....On. I know it's not officially Summer until June 23rd but this is Memorial Day Weekend -- the unofficial start of Summer. Pools open, friends open their lake cottages, patios seem like a good place to be.

Soon we will all be griping about the heat and humidity. Our gardens will need rain. But right now, we can enjoy the flowers blooming, the kids with the Summer energy that kicks in before the "I'm bored" phase and the opportunity to light up the grill.

Jump in a lake. Go visit your neighborhood pool. Get a pedicure and rock some kicky sandals. Take the family on a picnic. Attend an outdoor concert. Plant a few vegetables. Plant some flowers. Try some new recipes. Go on vacation.

It's Summer. Enjoy!

A Dog for the Rest of My Life

2011-05-21T07:43:00.000-07:00

I am a dog lover. Right now, I am into black labs but I love all breeds. I've had some great mutts and probably will have more. Do dogs have souls? We had this great discussion in Sunday School last week but I firmly believe they do. And, I believe they have the greatest capacity to love.

I've told you this story before but it bears repeating. When I was about 5 years old, I begged and pleaded for a dog. My mother, who had some dog issues, agreed with a few caveats:

not a puppy
housetrained
not huge

With my beloved grandmother as co-conspriator, we found the perfect dog: Candy.

Candy was with us until mid way through my college days. I miss her still. No offense to my other dogs but I think she will always be my favorite.

My parents have had oodles of dogs and I have loved them all. Well, that's not true. I was not crazy about Ashley whose idea of a good time was to bite everyone in sight. I tried very hard not to touch her.

The great thing about dogs is the one you own at the time is your favorite. Best dog ever! I miss the others but I am so grateful for the one at this time in my life. My Gabs, my friend, my dogger. And, Harriet, who lets me carry her around like a baby.

We dog people are drawn to cute sayings and cute stuff about our dogs. Here's one I read a couple of years ago about why people love dogs:

Dogs are angels here on earth. They carry a white light, a spirit. That is why people feel better after they've touched a dog. The dog has a forgiving soul and always thinks we are better than we actually are. You can tell them anything, and I mean ANYTHING, and they will always love you no matter what you have just told them. So perfect and beautiful in so many different packages, God knew what he was giving us with the gift of a dog. What a great world this would be if everyone could live up to be the great person your dog thinks you are.

I will always own a dog. Or one will always own my heart.

Prayers

2011-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

If you believe a certain religious sect, the Apocalypse begins tonight and those of us who consider ourselves believers will not be here tomorrow.

So, what am I doing to prepare myself for this great event? I am doing laundry, running errands and most importantly, writing prayers. I am liturgist tomorrow. I suspect my congregation of great friends and wonderful Christians will be in their normal seats in the pews.

The hardest part of being liturgist is writing the prayers. I know what I pray for and for whom. But you try to strike a balance between the generic and personal. You, at least I, try to say something that touches the soul... that makes someone think, "Yes, I pray for that too."

Whenever I remind myself that I am not worthy and I share this thought with my minister, he replies, "No, you are not. Do it anyway." What a gift!

The next time you are in a house of worship and someone says, "Let us Pray," remember that someone put some time and effort into crafting a community prayer. And, the greatest gift may be the ability to worship together.

Alone Time

2011-05-14T08:09:00.000-07:00

I crave alone time. And God's joke on me is that I live with the most social man ever put on the planet.

Alone time allows me to breathe, to pray, to make lists and to listen to my soul. Alone time heals me.

Yesterday I took a couple of hours off work to do personal stuff. Catch up. Walk the dog, send some cards. Dan came home to pick up some stuff he had forgotten. Alone bubble busted.

There's a balance we all strive to find. Socially engaging/work engaging/private time. I spend a big chunk of my week with a smile on my face and a story to tell. It's rude, but I often come home with the silent message of, "I'm tired and I don't want to talk." How awful is that?

Doing the voyeur thing, I often wonder about retired people. How do they do it? Do they enjoy spending 24/7 with each other? In my voyeur experience, I can tell you the answer is no. One of them is always wishing the other would get out of their hair.

But, I'm on the young end of the Baby Boomer generation. One perk is I'll never know about retirement because we will be the ones who can't afford to retire. I will work until I can't work anymore. If I get really successful, I will have a room to myself and I will occasionally channel Greta Garbo,

"I want to be alone."

But just for a while ....

The Help

2011-05-14T07:52:00.000-07:00

Have you read this? I read it a while ago and recently reread it. I can't explain it but it touches me.

I have southern roots. Lots of them sprout in Knoxville, Tennessee but I also have an adopted love for Mississippi and the family of my in-laws.

There is a graciousness that goes with the South. There are also a lot of secrets and terribly dark days of prejudice and violence.

Whenever I spend two minutes with any of my southern cousins, I immediately begin to speak with a southern accent. I can't explain it.

Can you imagine asking your "help" to use the bathroom outside? That's just a little glimpse into this book and the issues it raises.

If you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it. I read an article last week and the author said the book was rejected more than 40 times. I applaud her for rewriting and resubmitting a b'jillion times. Now, it's also been sold to Hollywood and a movie will be coming out in August. I hope the movie is as good as the book.

If you've read the book or see the movie, let me know what you think.

Addicted to Facebook

2011-05-08T13:33:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Sheri and I need a 12-step program. I am addicted to Facebook.

I love it. I love you, my friends. I love seeing your children and grandchildren. I love hearing about your day. I like checking out which pages you "like" and seeing what mutual friends we have.

For my media friends, I love your weather forecasts, your updates on breaking news and the fact that you interact with us regular people.

My aunts and my cousins, well ... without Facebook, I wouldn't know your latest blog, see your latest interests, know you play silly games ... I wouldn't get to share as much of your life as I do now.

High school friends and college friends -- wow, the power to reconnect! To see you as your grown up selves and superimpose that image with the one in my memory. It's mind boggling.

Seriously, I know what's going on with my church family because they put it on Facebook.

A few months ago, I was in a meeting with a vendor and my boss. The vendor was giving me great compliments and (jokingly) said, "You need to give her a raise." My boss replied, "Whatever... every time I check she's on Facebook."

Of course, he is my friend on Facebook and the only way he would know I was on it is he is on it too.

Guilty! I open it at home. I open it at work. I float between whatever I am working on and checking the status of my friends. I wait for Faith to tell me who I should pray for and I wait for Susan's hysterical posts. I long for Kristen's newest adventures and recipes. I see the travels of my peeps and I cheer for their accomplishments.

And at least once a day, somebody, somewhere tries to tell me something new and my answer ends up to be, "I know. I saw it on Facebook."

Mom's Day

2011-05-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is bittersweet for me. I love my mother, my best friend, with all my heart. But I didn't get to birth children of my own and that is one of my true regrets in life.

Yet, God opens doors. He gave me Jennifer and Tyler -- two of my greatest blessings. He gave me their mothers, two of my best friends. He gave me goddaughters (thank you Jan!) and a bounty of children to love. My "sister" has three children and thankfully, she has commanded that they love me.

You never stop being a mother. Today I was liturgist in my church and I flubbed a portion of the responsive reading. There's nothing like looking into the congregation and seeing your mother say, "You messed it up."

Yes, I did. And thanks Mom. One of your most amazing gifts is to let me know that I mess up and you love me anyway.

I truly believe it takes a village to raise a child. This child is looking at 50, a scant few years away, and realizing the women who shaped me, scolded me, loved me and soothed me.

Here's the prayer I shared with the congregation this morning:

Gracious God,

Today we honor mothers. We thank you for the mothers who gave birth to us and step mothers who stepped up. Thank you for adoptive mothers who grew children in their hears. Thank you for foster mothers who deal with situations most of us couldn't imagine. We thank you for grandmothers who get to love and laugh and send the children home.

Lord, let us also honor aunts and godmothers and all who touch our children. Thank you for neighborhood mothers who instinctively know it takes a village.

Let us also be grateful for Mary, a young mother in a challenging situation, who gave birth to our Lord.
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May your loving hand touch all mothers everywhere.

So, I hope you honor yourself today. If you birthed a child, participated in raising a child, smacked a child upside the head for doing something dangerous or stupid... you have added to the community of humanity for all the greater good.

And may you all have someone who can look at you with a wink and a smile and say, "You messed up." Yes Mom, we all do it once in a while.

Sunday School

2011-05-01T13:40:00.000-07:00

With a nod and a thank you to my friend Jay Flora, I will tell you something he said in Sunday School this morning.

"I used to get up a little early to attend Sunday School, but I was really there for the worship service. Now, I get up early to go to Sunday School and I hang around for the worship service."

My apologies to Jay for the paraphrasing.
My parents dragged me, kicking and screaming, to Sunday School. Really? Don't I do enough? Don't I volunteer for every event? Don't I show up for most of the big stuff?
I went to my parents' Sunday School class and it was wonderful for a while. Then I sought out my own. My own age group, a different agenda, a different conversation.
I love my minister and I love worship. But like Jay, I embrace the intimacies of Sunday School. I think we really helped Karen and Terry last week (thanks to Lori) and I think we collectively hold each others hands and hearts.
Sunday School means I came for worship but right now, in this group, I'm here for you.

Cubicles

2011-05-01T12:56:00.000-07:00

Is there anything worse than being assigned to a cubicle each day? Well, of course disasters like tornadoes, tsunamis and other freaks of nature come to mind. But in the day to day working world of us little worker bees, I think cubicles are the worst.

When I was a young worker at AFNB (about to become Bank One) I had a little office appropriate to my little job. When they were building the Bank One Tower (now the Chase Tower) I was shown the plan of seniority and cubicle size. I did not rank an office but I did get a rather large cubicle with a great view. I also managed a parking space in the underground garage which meant I could go from garage to garage without messing up my hair.

As I grew with the company and my beloved boss retired, I got his office. With a door. With a conference table. With art that inspired me.

A little less than a year ago, I took a wonderful job with a company who's mission I firmly believe in. As the little troll on the totem poll, I was assigned a cubicle. I (being me) decorated it. I put out a candy jar (which almost broke me) in a way to say, "Stop by. Get to know me. Help yourself."

I put great faith in one man (my boss) and he put great faith in me.

I now have a great office with a door that locks and two windows that let in the sunshine. I have no idea why that is important to me but it is. The only thing that I miss about Bank One is the bank plane. Since we're a small, not -for-profit credit union, I think I will continue to fly commercial.

Here's my advice for all business owners and managers out there. If you really want to stifle creativity and productivity:

Put them all in a cubicle
Make them clock in & out and account for every second of every day.

Easter Prayers

2011-04-23T09:14:00.000-07:00

I pray a lot. I think everyone does. Even people who have no faith seem to call upon a higher being in certain times. I, boastfully, like knowing who I am talking to. (Sin #1 right there -- being boastfful.)

I have never made the connection with the Easter Bunny, the egg hunt, etc. That doesn't mean I haven't participated. I just don't get it. Of course, we did the Santa thing with young children while also recognizing the meaning of the season.

It's frustrating when God answers your prayers and the answer is no. I prayed like crazy for a couple of friends with cancer and yet, God decided to bring them home. Sometimes you've go to accept that God's plan differs from your plan.

But Easter represents new life and new beginnings. So with that in mind, I give you some Easter prayers:

Peace in households, peace in neighborhoods, peace in countries
Harmless animals who find welcoming homes
Children in need who receive help
Jobless people who find jobs
Badly dressed people who get a clue

Ok, I threw that last one in there to make you smile. Happy Easter to all.

The Fur Coat Story

2011-04-17T14:16:00.000-07:00

A couple of years after I graduated from college, I went to a tailgate party. One of my college guy friends brought a date and she was wearing jeans, decked-out jewelry and a fur coat.

Those were the days before Facebook but trust me, I friended her immediately. Hell, I wanted to be her.

When Dan was the person I wanted to get to know, I borrowed her coat and did the parade lap at Friday's.

Before Dan and I married, he bought me a fur. Later, we were at some benefit and somehow I ended up with another. (Think lots of wine) I bought a mink stole at some antique shop and a girlfriend told me to put it away until I was over 40. I'm well over 40 and I've worn it a couple of times.

When the Captain and the Belle lived with us (my in-laws) she brought a couple of furs and I actually bought her one on a trip to Phoenix. I have since inherited her furs.

This is all to say that no one wears furs anymore and I have a closet full.

I occasionally wear one to the country club -- one of the few places I feel certain no one will throw blood or mustard on me. I wore one to my grandfather's funeral but in reflection I think I did that to make a statement -- "You may have tried to ignore my father but here we are!"

I had a call yesterday reminding me to have them cleaned and put in storage. ($$$$) I will do it. But, I will probably not redeem all that I put on deposit.

With a Full Heart

2011-04-17T12:40:00.000-07:00

I am reading Katie Couric's book, which is a compilation of great advice from amazing people. Love her or hate her, she has tenacity and spunk. She has survived a great deal and seems to do it with an attitude of gratitude.

The book opens with a little story about her late husband who used to tell her that she must have been born on a sunny day. She calls it her greatest compliment -- the ability to see the glass half full, to find the silver lining -- fill in your cliche here.

Today I attended Palm Sunday service. I hugged people that I am blessed to hug pretty much every Sunday. Yesterday, I saw my friend come home from the hospital and she is doing well. Tomorrow, I go to a job that I waited a long time to come to fruition and I find I love it more every day.

A big dog welcomed me home with a big jump (Paws on the ground!) and a sloppy kiss. Lots of people claim to love me but no one shows me the love quite as demonstratively as Gabby.

I will put my palm above my doorway as a sign of Christian welcome. I will greet all who enter with that same spirit in my heart. And I will thank God for days like today when I am sure that I was born on a sunny day.

The Stupid Pill

2011-03-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

I read a great line in a novel I was reading lately.

"When did you take the stupid pill and how quickly does it wear off?"

As someone who has taken a number of stupid pills in her life, I immediately identified. I am also guilty of looking at and listening to someone while judging them completely and totally addicted to stupid pills.

We all do stupid things. Some are harmless. Others wreck our marriages, our children, our finances, our trust in others and their ability to trust us.

I was recently looking at some photos on Facebook of people I love dearly. I saw a crazy amount of cleavage and beer bottles. I saw young people who will one day be looking for a job and these photos will come back to haunt them. I saw people I love who took the stupid pill.

Pasadena Peeps

2010-09-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

(Thanks to Kim for this title)

If you look me up, here's some basic things you'll find. I went to Howe H.S. on the east side of Indianapolis and then on to I.U.

It's too bad that your online profile and public records only reflect education and employment because we are all so much more than that. We are formed by parents, family and friends. And if you're really lucky, you are also formed by a great neighborhood.

Maybe I'm jaded but I don't think neighborhoods have the same kind of intricate bond that they did in my childhood. We were quintessential throwbacks to:

kids in and out of each others homes
parents sitting on the front porch
shared babysitters
grandparents who knew all the neighbors
porch lights indicating when it was time to come in

I wish every child in America could grow up in a great neighborhood. Here's what makes it great in my mind:

The core people rarely move and if they do, they want to come back.
The neighborhood children who still love to come back and tell their version of the stories. And they bring their children.
Pulling on the street and waving at neighbors who you have known forever.

I say once a peep, always a peep. I can get annoyed with some of them but I love them to the core. And that includes my parents.

There's great comfort in people who love you -- warts and all.

More Ponderings

2010-09-08T07:07:00.000-07:00

I'm kind of stressed and one of my favorite ways to deal with it is let my mind run free. It can be fun and it can be dangerous. Feel free to weigh in.

When Bad things happen to Good People
I'm very scared about the health situation of a good friend. Actually, I have a couple of friends in scary health situations. It makes me angry. It frustrates the control freak in me. My minister told me it's perfectly okay and normal to rant and rave at God. Somehow, that made me feel better and guilty at the same time.

I Miss My Parents and my Other Dog
The time I spent living with my parents was truly a gift. We all knew it would end (we had no clue how it would end) but I truly miss my little bedroom, our teasing each other and the rediscovery of each other on a day-to-day basis. And their little dog stole a piece of my heart.

My New Job
I start my new job tomorrow. I'm nervous. I'm not afraid of my ability to do the job; I can handle it. It's more like a child on the first day in a new school. Will I fit in? Will they like me? How will I adapt to this total upheaval of my schedule?

Posture
I have always prided myself on my posture. All those years of ballet paid off in some way. And I've always ridiculed people, especially teenagers, with horrible posture. Tyler probably has permanent wounds from me poking him and hissing,"Stand up straight!" But lately I've got glimpses of myself in the mirror and I'm slightly slumping. What is that about?

Houses
Since we've reconciled, we have been making some changes to our house. With the market the way it is, we haven't decided if we're making these changes with the intent to sell or the intent to live here forever. We prefer the term "updating." It's an open proposition for now. But it feels good. I love this house. I love the changes we're making.

Shopping
Does anyone make reasonable clothing for a woman my age at a reasonable price? I refuse to dress like a teeny bopper and I'm not quite ready for stretchy pants and the sweatshirt with kittens and bunnies. Guess my current wardrobe is going to have to do for now.

Giving Up. Giving In. Going Home.

2010-08-30T05:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the long delay since my last post. Quite a bit going on.

Is your marriage certificate just a piece of paper? If so, is your divorce decree just another one? I've had people make comments of that sort to me and truthfully, I don't agree. I appreciate the legalities involved but I also know the emotional importance of both.

I am back with my ex-husband -- the love of my life. For both of us, it represents exactly what the title of this blog post says. We are giving up, giving in and finding home again. And, redefining it. We are two people in various stages of mid life embracing our past and determined to celebrate the good parts while not repeating the bad parts. I met this man when I was 26 and married him when I was 29. He has been my husband, lover and friend for most of my adult life.

Perhaps this marriage had to run into a ditch for us both to realize what we have and what we screwed up. I'm not big on trying to figure out God's plan -- I'm not that smart. But with hindsight, I can see we needed the break to appreciate what we had and what we have found again.

A couple of years ago, we were at a lake cottage with friends. Gabby on his lap and all of us having fun on the pier. We will do that again next weekend but oh how we have grown and changed.

I'm giving up. I'm giving up things like pride, my control-freak tendencies and my judgemental ways when he says or does something I don't agree with. I'm giving in. Giving in to the pure, raw feeling that says to me, "This is right."

I'm home.

Being Wooed

2010-06-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-28T12:41:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-22T12:46:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-08T10:46:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-07T12:54:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-05T10:10:00.000-07:00

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.

Passwords

2010-05-27T09:24:00.000-07:00

In this age of rampant access to everything under the sun, I admit to being a little perplexed. When we were young (and I use "we" collectively -- all of us over the age of 35) there were very few things you needed a code to access. Want to enter the house? Use the key. And probably, the door wasn't locked anyway.

I spent years with unlocked doors and open access.

I'm probably more terrified of my sinuses exploding, getting diagnosed with cancer, date rape or identity theft than I am of some random person walking into my home and causing harm.

The odds are in my favor.

The world of passwords is approaching insanity. Most people started out using a simple one like your date of birth, your SSN, your mother's maiden name, etc. Now, every website, every account, every access code to absolutely anything requires a random sequence, including letters, numbers and symbols. On top of that, we are all advised to not use the same one for everything.

I am still job searching and that involves a lot of websites that want me to establish my password. My two favorites don't always work because they don't have symbols.

When I'm feeling goofy, I like to mix it up. Like when they ask for your mother's maiden name as a fallback for resending you your super secret password, I mix it all up. My current favorite is listing my mother's maiden name as SmithEllisjones.

Of course, I no longer have the brain capacity to keep all of my passwords and secret codes in my head. I have a little notebook to keep things straight. I have no fear of someone stealing my identity;I have a great fear of someone stealing my notebook.

Bragging Rights

2010-05-25T10:52:00.000-07:00

Do you get annoyed with people who send holiday newsletters telling you of their travels to Europe, peppered with the news of Jr. becoming a vice president and baby girl junior is president of the local Junior League? Grandchildren have all made the honor roll and at least one is certain to be the president of his or her fraternity/sorority. For that moment in time, their biggest problem might be grubs in the lawn.

One of my favorite traditions, and one I miss dearly, was when the girlfriends/workout group would gather in my kitchen and vote on the most obnoxious and braggy Christmas letter received. My friend Big Sal always won -- she knows a lot of important people who feel the need to brag about it. She could not be more down-to-earth and that's probably why people are drawn to her.

We all read between the lines when someone is bragging.

The bragging is often earned because something was survived. Maybe the children simply survived divorce. Maybe the unexpected pregnancy turns out to be the valedictorian. The grandchild with the learning disorder might be fueling his brain cells in a Bill Gates direction. Or helping the homeless. Or simply being a smart person who doesn't wear a hoodie and pack a gun. Or finds hope in a world that can sometimes seem hopeless.

Even though I make fun of it, I understand the need to say, "Look at our family -- look at this great thing that happened in our life."

I've had the honor and privilege to be a co-mamma, and a stepmother. And one of the issues brought to my attention during the divorce was my family/stepfamily/co-family did not always appreciate my thoughts going out there for the world to absorb. So, I have tried to comply but now I'm going to backslide for a quick second.

My stepdaughter eloped recently. I watched her through high school, college and law school. I cheered her a lot and we traded "what is wrong with you" conversations at times. I'm proud of her and this marriage she's chosen. I'm bragging.

My stepson was just accepted into the accelerated graduate program. He is starting his senior year in college and one year after that he will earn his master's degree. Not only will it save time but having those credit hours working double time will save a phenomenal amount of money. His parents have earned the bragging rights but I'm feeling the need to puff out my lungs and shout a bit too.

And Next ...

2010-05-08T11:56:00.000-07:00

My father and I have a running debate about using the term, "Next." Imagine it's a Wednesday and you refer to plans on next Saturday. In my mind, this is not the Saturday that is three days away; it is the one that is 10 days away. I'm talking about this Saturday. He thinks I am crazy.

His analogy is standing in line at the bank. When the teller yells, "Next!" you don't turn around and look at the person behind you. I get the logic but he is still wrong.

I'm truly struggling with what is next for me. Is it right in front of me or is it the hypothetical ten days away? I had several job interviews last week and one of them is a job I really, really want. I've had five interviews for this job. Yep, five. Let me tell you again, FIVE!

I have friends going through awful things... cancer, childhood diseases, bankruptcy, estrangement from their families, etc. You name it, I can tell you about it.

My little simple life seems ... well, simple. And I'm tempted to call the prayer chain to put myself on the list. That seems lamer than lame.

But if I don't get this amazing good fit of a job, I might have to take a vacation and breathe differently for a while.

Why We Celebrate

2010-05-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

Illusions, Delusions ...

I'm thinking about holidays and traditions. You know how I love those and you know that I have spent the last year and a half redefining them. I'm thinking about how quickly things change.

One of the hardest things for me going through this divorce has been figuring out traditions and holidays. I still am a little perplexed that I'm not going to my friends' lake cottage over Memorial Day to help open it for the season. And come Labor Day, I'll be equally confused that I'm not breaking my back to carry the furniture to the boat house.

At Halloween, I'm supposed to be coordinating (or at least helping) with the costume golf outing and the dinner/entertainment to follow.

Thanksgiving was at my house for about 18 years or so. And, what do all those people who used to pop by my house on Christmas Eve do now? When our mutual friends get together for New Years, do they celebrate the anniversary that is no more?

Part of the reason we are adaptable is we all love illusions and shun the delusions. The illusion lets us play the role of keeping it all together, putting up a good front. And yes, we delude ourselves.

That teenage girl we know is pregnant but thank God my child isn't having sex.
My son seems a little depressed but suicide doesn't run in our family.
My child isn't a bully.
I don't know anyone who does drugs.

And when we're lucky, smart and all the gooey things in between, we celebrate:

My son just got into the accelerated master's program.
Someone's daughter gets to choose between three schools and great scholarships.
A godchild just got the internship of his dreams.
An anniversary of a marriage that has navigated disaster.
A best friend's child is headed for the Peace Corps.

And that's why we celebrate. Maybe it's a minuscule child hitting his first ball at T-ball, maybe it's taking your mom and grandma to lunch on Mother's Day and realizing a whole bunch of your friends don't have moms or grandmas to celebrate with.

Maybe it's just acknowledging that tomorrow is on the horizon with miracles, disasters and whatever else may come. We celebrate. We love. We delude ourselves and we illuminate our lives. As we should.

The Pull of the South

2010-05-04T10:04:00.000-07:00

My roots are in the South.

I can still see my Uncle Ken preaching.
I see my Aunt Wanda in her kitchen asking all the men, "Four eggs or five?"
I want to sit on that front porch where my in-laws lived.

I am a firmly-planted Midwestern girl. When I travel, I become a chameleon. I love Manhattan and I love Mexico and the Caribbean. If you gave me a ticket to Europe or the Mediterranean, I'd be packed in 10 minutes and on the next plane.

The South has my pulse. I'm drawn to it...favorite memories and lots of my favorite people still live there. I was in a bookstore recently and noticed I am magnetized by southern writers.

I'm pretty sure I will live out the rest of my life in Indiana. But, I am happily headed south in a few weeks to visit one of my dearest girlfriends. I would visit her anywhere...Gosh, I think I have.

The fact that she's pulling me south is a spectacular benefit.

If You Don't Know Me By Now

2010-05-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

For someone who has spent her entire adult life making a living in communications, it occurs to me that I may not be a great communicator in my personal life.

I have a sassy mouth. I have spent many years learning to temper it. The tendency to (as my ex-husband used to say) "Ready, Fire, Aim!" has been somewhat stifled. I truly try to engage my brain before I open my mouth.

Yet, I am still me. I will continue to be an open book. I will tell you what I think if you ask me a question. If I love you, I will spend countless hours trying to craft a proper response in the kindest possible way. Or sometimes I will blurt out what I really think and apologize for the manner in which it was delivered.

I have a wacky sense of humor that I inherited honestly. My parents are two of the funniest people on the planet and even when we jab each other, it is done with a foundation of love, respect and a little bit of attitude. "You can't get rid of me!"

My family is my family. That sounds idiotic but it's important that I put it out there. I have cousins and distant relatives that I go years without seeing. But they are in my prayers and I would be there for them in a heartbeat if needed.

I have an abundance of friends and acquaintances. Most of my friends have been with me for decades. We have had the joy and the pain of watching each other experience every possible scenario. Occasionally my sassy mouth or distracted brain or wacky sense of humor gets me in trouble. I have total respect for anyone who calls me on it:

You hurt my feelings.
You shouldn't have done that.
I need you right now.
Why did you say that?

But lately, I'm copping a little attitude.

If I've been your friend (or family) for decades, shouldn't you know that my loyalty is with you? Shouldn't my best judgement count? Shouldn't you trust me that my intentions are pure?

I'm getting tired of explaining myself and my decisions. I am living with my parents because I need to do so. It is not just for financial reasons -- I could move out tomorrow and eke by for a while. I am looking for the right job, not just any job, because it is the right decision for me. I am not looking for a new husband. Having coffee or a drink with someone does not an affair make. But I also could have an affair with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and I'm pretty sure it is no one's business but mine. (and God's)

Live and learn. I lost some acquaintances in the divorce. Ok, I can live with that. But occasionally someone just blows me away with a comment or a question and I think,

Wow, you don't know me at all.

The House that Built Me

2010-05-01T09:15:00.000-07:00

The wonderful thing about country music is the stories. Heartache, mischief, loves gone wrong, etc.

Miranda Lambert's latest, The House That Built Me, is my new fave. How does she know this much about me?

Here are some snippets:

I used to do my homework in that little room.
My favorite dog is buried in your back yard.

And the best part is the chorus:

If you'll just let me in, I swear I'll leave ... with nothing but a memory.

She needs to be in her childhood home. Touch the walls, feel the aura, put a hand on the concrete.

I'm in touch with this. My life fell apart and guess where I ran?

I'm long past the time that I should've moved on. Call it lazy or call it crazy ... I don't know.

I will move on. I will redefine the life I need for myself. But right now, I'm indulging a need. I put my head on a pillow, say my prayers and take great comfort in returning to the house that built me.

Miss, Ms., Mrs. & Ma'am

2010-04-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

I'm big on titles; I truly believe they are a sign of respect for lots of things. You don't have to respect the person -- sometimes you're respecting their age, their position, etc. Regardless of your politics, I think the president of our country should be referred to as President Obama, not Mr. Obama. And let's face it, "Yes sir, Officer, should be in every teenage vocabulary lesson.

When I hear women say, "Don't call me Mrs. Smith; it makes me look around for my mother-in-law," I cringe. It doesn't make you old to be addressed properly. It is some well-bred person being respectful. I have been a Mrs. more than once and I liked it. Say what you want about country clubs but they do cling to the respectful titles. I've seen more than one child hauled to the side of the dining room to have a quick lecture about proper name etiquette. My stepson was so ingrained in this that when one of our best friends encouraged him to call her by her first name, he stumbled, tried again and finally gave up.

I like being called ma'am. In addition to a title of respect, it keeps me in touch with some of my southern roots. "Yes ma'am and no sir" are the norm in the south and God, I wish that tradition would fly north.

I'm old enough now that almost everyone expects me to call them by their first name. And I do. But sometimes I catch myself going back to the title -- like with the lady who lives across the street. I see her in church. She's watched me grow up. I'm in my 40s, she's in her 80s and I enjoy addressing her with the respect she's earned.

Miracles

2010-04-26T12:50:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you can get bad news, especially a scary medical diagnosis, about someone you love. It stops you. It grips your heart like a cold, clammy fist pulsing the fear through every vein in your body. Our human tendency is to ask, "Why?"

This scenario happened to us this week when a dear friend and even-though-he's-not-blood-related family member (he's family to us) was diagnosed with stomach cancer. And then the miracles started to occur:

Thanks to the diligence of his wife, he saw a doctor and it was caught early.
It has not spread.
Deep-seated family wounds that seemed super important are now irrelevant and the healing has begun.

I don't need to know why; I'm just grateful to witness the miracle.

Doggie Guilt

2010-04-22T10:51:00.000-07:00

I don't believe in reincarnation but I've had more than a couple of people tell me that they'd like to come back to earth as my dog.

Since I've invaded my parents' home, I have become incredibly attached to their dog, Harriett. And I suspect they are crazy about mine. Their dog is a fluffy, needy-but-charming little thing. She looks like the dogs you see all the stars carrying through airports.

My dog is a workhorse. She has known from day one that I will take her everywhere she is allowed to go and some places I will just fake my way through it. My friends are either frustrated or kind or both but most say, "Bring Gabby!"

Neither dog is confused about ownership. But Harriett stalks me. She knows who feeds her, grooms her, etc. and it is not me. But she follows me and she paws at me. Then she looks at my parents as if to say, "Would you make that lady that walks a lot take me to the park?" And I do.

This weekend is the Mutt Strut and I really considered taking both of them. But Harriett's legs can only go a mile and I can't fathom maneuvering Gabby and carrying Harriett for the extra 1 1/2 mile. Plus, we might go out for drinks afterwards and I don't think my parents want Harriett in a bar.

I'm super careful with my money these days and the Mutt Strut is an event I totally support. Some women of my age and marital status might seek events with lots of men. That is kind of a nightmare concept for me.

But an event that supports a cause I believe in, plus I can walk my dog & meet up with girlfriends and their dogs ... sign me up!

I'll make it up to Harriett another time.

Beauty Rituals

2010-04-21T09:45:00.000-07:00

I have never wished to be anything other than the woman I am. But I confess to a few moments of envy:
Men who can shower, dress and walk out the door in less than 20 minutes.
Women who are firm, sun-kissed and bright eyed. (Of course they are all way younger!)
Plain women who have an extreme level of confidence and think they look ok.

Social Networking

2010-04-19T12:12:00.000-07:00

A couple of years ago, I wrote this thing that appeared in our local paper, The Indianapolis Star and it was all about how people (especially politicians) throw around the greeting, "Hello Friends."

I don't remember exactly what I wrote but I remember it had to do with the definition of friendship.

Enter social networking. I was a hold out to Facebook. I am still a hold out on Twitter. (Really, my day is not that interesting.) But, I am a marketing person and I am supposed to reasonably keep up with the times. So, I joined. And now I am addicted a little bit.

At first, I thought it was amazing that someone, anyone!, would want to friend me. Then I would catch myself in a lazy evening or at couple of stop lights, I checked Facebook. Now I have something like 200 friends and I promise you, I do not have 200 friends in real life. It's fun to see what's going on with high school & college friends, old business associates and cousins I don't see very often.

But sometimes I need to remind myself that this is not reality. Running over to a girlfriend's house is friendship. Planning a trip to the girlfriend who has been there since I was 5-years old is reality. Worrying about medical tests for a person I love is friendship.

Sometimes you get one of those prodding things: "You should be friends with XXX -- you have 18 friends in common." I clicked "Yes" a couple of times. Never heard back and you know what that means ... Ignore! Guess he forgot we were married for a couple of years.

Social networking is fun but I still know who my friends are.

What if We All Kicked it up a Notch?

2010-04-16T10:46:00.000-07:00

I'm all for comfort. I own my fair share of jeans and sweatshirts. But unless I'm cleaning or painting (stop laughing now) I try to kick it up a notch. When did it become acceptable to go almost anywhere looking like you just rolled out of bed or the nearest gutter?

I agree that it takes a village to raise children. I was blessed to have such a village -- every mother in my childhood neighborhood was intimately involved (much to our dismay) in the comings and goings of various children. When did it become ok to continue to birth children but have no real interest in raising them to be responsible adults?

Fresh from a devastating divorce, I feel free to say this. What if I had tried harder? Yes, I can throw a million stones but the bottom line is two people who were an incredibly good match contributed to a marriage in the ditch. Maybe we should've been more concerned with each other than the issue at hand. All I see is two people who won various battles and ended up losing the war.

Religion and politics will always be touchy. But why is it tit for tat? I'm reasonable firm in my political opinions and I'm very comfortable in my faith. This does not mean I won't hear your opinion, read a different book and embrace the questions that pepper reasonable people. What if we kicked it up a notch and actually listened to the pleas beneath the shouts?

And while I'm ranting:

Why can't we all get our pets spayed and neutered? There are free or low cost clinics everywhere. Kick it up a notch.

When did running from the police become a viable option?

Why does every participant deserve a trophy/medal? Kick it up a notch and suck it up. Sometimes that's the best lesson. You lost!

Support local stuff. I am hardly a "green" diva. But if your local library is important to you, write your congressman, go there. If your favorite neighborhood store is struggling, make your grass roots effort and talk it up. If there's a farm stand or public school or community project that needs your support, go out of your way to make it a priority.

That sounds sort of preachy and I don't mean it to be. I know we're all just doing the best we can with what we have.

Imagine if we all kicked it up a notch.

Car Memories

2010-04-09T11:51:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been thinking about cars. We're no Michigan, but a lot of our industry in this state started with cars and spun off into various manufacturing. Now we're courting advanced manufacturing -- lots of definitions for that. My last few cars have all been run by a computer in its belly so if that's not advanced, I don't know what is.

Currently I drive a Toyota. Not one that's been recalled but I'll check again tomorrow. I've owned more than my fair share of cars. Sorry to all my union friends but my best cars have been Japan or German models. Change the oil regularly and they run forever.

My first one was second-hand (third? fourth maybe?) and it was a stick shift and great fun. Girlfriends and I used to tool around, listening to the 8-track and singing our lungs out. During which, I was also rolling backwards and restarting the engine because it's hard to carry on a conversation, sing, work all the pedals and primp at the same time. My dad taught me to drive it because the first and only time my mom tried she got a massive headache from screaming "Look Out!" We were in a parking lot.

Before passing driver's ed, which I took in high school, Gary MacPherson used to let me drive his Chevy Nova around the parking lot. I later learned that he did that with lots of girls.

My dad used to have this GTO that all my friends thought was very cool. He thought it was cool too and so the story goes, he got so many tickets that it had to go. That's my memory and I'm sticking to it.

I've never understood people who don't have memories of making out in a car. Were you all born with your own apartment? One of my first memorable kisses was in the back of my dad's truck. Greg Davis planted one on me while his sister (Angel) looked on. We were stuck back there like cattle and she retreated to her own corner.

Keith Taylor had a cool car. Even though I knew my bff had a crush on him, I said yes when he asked me out. (She forgave me.) His brother had a better car -- a Mustang Fastback and we made out in that too. Later my grandfather had a few belts, took a neighborhood kid's bicycle and rammed it into the car. Lesson: God is always watching.

In my memory, Jan always had a different car/truck every six months. They broke down and we didn't care. We didn't have cell phones. It was a friggin' adventure. We also had a few car episodes (oops, didn't see that garage door!)

My most-of-the-time boyfriend in high school (and all-through-college guy) used to take me out in his parent's Honda. Hmmm. Maybe that's why I still lean toward Japanese cars.

Yes, thanks to Facebook, I'm using names now.

"Sort of'' Christians

2010-04-04T10:48:00.000-07:00

Today is Easter Sunday and my little church was filled. It was a beautiful service, abundant with a baptism, children in their Easter finery, welcoming new members and communion. Our minister delivered a great sermon -- touching, funny and heartfelt. For a small church, we had lots of activities to recognize this magnificent day.

During Sunday school, we got into a discussion about the people who only show up twice a year. Ooops! It's Christmas Eve. Ooops! It's Easter. Better suck it up and go to church! As it happens, we are studying Romans and the whole not passing judgement thing.

I pass judgement all the time. Bad hair, bad outfit, I can't believe your kid did that -- you name it. Even if I don't say it out loud, it is screaming in my head.

There are people who say us church goers are a bunch of hypocrites. Yes, we probably are. And I do love the sentiment that church is not a temple for saints but a hospital for sinners.

Lots of people love to tell you that they can worship anywhere -- the fishing hole, the golf course, wherever. Of course they can. But, do they?

I don't go to church because it's the only place I can worship. I go to church to be with my fellow worshippers and take the time to reflect on this magical/sometimes horrible/astonishing life. I go to church because I have learned at this age, I need it. And someone misses me when I am not there.

I have no judgement about the Christmas Eve and Easter Christians. I just hope the seed is planted that makes them want to come back more often.

Ponderings

2010-04-02T12:48:00.000-07:00

Wish I could take credit for this but it was passed along to me. It's worth sharing.

POINTS TO PONDER

1. Part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times when I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is a great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. MapQuest really needs to start their directions at #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after BlueRay? I don't want to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of WORD and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -- ever.

15. I hate when i just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!) but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

16. I hate leaving the house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

17. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

18. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.

Kudos to the anonymous author of this.

Forever Friends

2010-03-29T11:39:00.000-07:00

My oldest and dearest friends (my goldies) are still the ones I count on -- pretty much every day. I could not have gotten through the last year, and countless other periods of my life, without one or all of them.

We are all so different now. And we're honest enough to admit that if we met recently, at this ripe ol' age, we might not see the connection. Different jobs and different lifestyles ... different religions and different family situations ... different wants and needs ... different geography ... different politics and different beliefs. You get the point.

Sometimes a shared history IS the connection. And it is a sheer act of bravery to say to someone, "I will share this with you. You get to see the real me, warts and all." It's implied between children and parents. It's rightly expected with a spouse (although we all know how well I do that one!) With girlfriends, it is a choice. Not nature/nurture/genetics and not a social/legal/moral contract.

You get the good and the bad. You get to be one of the first to know that your girlfriend lost her virginity. You get to stand beside her at her wedding(s). You get to be in the delivery room or be a godmother. You get to watch her have a diabetic attack. You get to watch her yell at her husband and/or children. You get to watch each other get too thin, too fat, drink too much, battle smoking addictions and find your way back. You get to watch each other's parents get old and make odd choices.

Sunrise. Sunset.

And then, a girlfriend hands you a copy of a poem (because she will not give up the original) that you wrote to her when you were about 14 or so. One of my bffs handed this to me last week. It said:

I have this friend. You probably know her because she is recognized everywhere she goes. With one smile, she can make everyone's day a little brighter. If something's wrong, she's always there to help work things out. She knows just what to say whenever I need a little pep talk and she knows when to say nothing because I just need someone to listen. She is the type of person who comes along once in a lifetime. And I'm so grateful I found her now.

Ok, forgive the schmaltz. I was fourteen. But the message is I knew a gem and I knew I was lucky.

Secret Crush

2010-03-01T11:02:00.000-08:00

The title might be redundant. Aren't all crushes secret? Otherwise all single people would act like third graders -- throwing spitballs and passing notes.

I have a little crush, a flicker of interest. And miracle of miracles, it's not on the man who has owned my heart for the better part of two decades.

It really doesn't matter if my crush ever notices me (but I hope he does.) It doesn't matter if we ever go out for coffee or brush knees in a movie (but I hope we do.)

What matters is I find myself thinking of him. I want to look nice in case I see him. I like hoping that he's as nice as he seems. I fantasize that he likes dogs.

The miracle is a heart that was crushed and pulverized now has a blip of feeling.

I've got a secret crush.

Daddy's Girl

2010-02-26T15:35:00.000-08:00

Today is my father's birthday.

As Frenchy tells Sandy in the movie Grease:

"The only man a girl can really count on is her daddy."

Of course, I don't believe this is true. He's not the only man you can count on. But if you're like me and you are blessed with an exceptional father, every other man in your life has a pretty tough act to follow.

Happy Birthday to my dad.

Joys and Concerns

2010-02-22T16:36:00.000-08:00

I am starting a new book, Secrets of Eden by Chris Bohjalian. He wrote Midwives, one of the few Oprah book selections I enjoyed.

And it starts with this:

As a minister I rarely found the entirety of a Sunday service depressing. But some mornings disease and despair seemed to permeate the congregation like floodwaters in sandbags, and the only people who stood during the moment when we shared our joys and concerns were those souls who were intimately acquainted with nursing homes, ICUs, and the nearby hospice. Concerns invariably outnumbered joys, but there were some Sundays that were absolute routs, and it would seem that the only people rising up in their pews to speak needed Prozac considerably more than they needed prayer.

I practically had to break my fingers to stop myself from calling my minister. Look at this! Read this!

We do joys and concerns in my church every week. Some people love the microphone and some people share very intimate, gory details. I embrace learning about people who need prayers but I am mindful of those who never raise their voice. I rarely take the microphone but I'm not above planting myself in our minister's office and bawling my eyes out.

Joys and concerns is a weekly audio newsletter. Sometimes it's messy; many times it's too much information. Often I don't make eye contact with anyone because my eyes are rolling out of my head. More often than not, it makes me put silly issues in perspective.

And here's the next part of the book:

On those sorts of Sundays, whenever someone would stand and ask for prayers for something relatively minor -- a promotion, traveling mercies, a broken leg that surely would mend -- I would find myself thinking as I stood in the pulpit, Get a spine, you bloody ingrate! Buck up! That lady behind you is about to lose her husband to pancreatic cancer and you're whining about your difficult boss? Oh, please!

As my minister pointed out on Sunday, we are blessed that we can't read each other's minds.

That doesn't mean we don't carry each other's joys and concerns all week long.

I've Been Thinking About ...

2010-02-11T15:50:00.000-08:00

While I've been immersed and stewing in my own juices, I've occasionally paid attention to some local, national and international stuff. In no particular order of importance:

Conan O'Brien got screwed in the NBC/Tonight Show/Late Night/Jay Leno fiasco. Conan signed a contract years ago that gave him a guaranteed hosting position on a certain date. He lived up to his deal. Jay's prime time show didn't work (not his fault) and suddenly all contracts are treated about as ironclad as professional sports contracts. Whatever happened to a deal is a deal?

Ellen DeGeneres is a great come-back story. I liked her as a stand-up comedienne and loved her sitcom, Ellen. Then she came out as a gay woman, her show was cancelled and her movies were not getting a lot of attention. Now she is happily married (regardless of how you feel about that) and hosting the top rated day time talk show and the newest judge on American Idol. I am not gay (she is) and I am not married (she is) and I am not employed (she is) and I am not funny (she is.) Some days, I want to be Ellen.

Our state is trying to legislate some new stuff on how the kids are tested. We're also constantly debating the length of the school year and when it ends and begins. You would think I don't care about any of this but I do. Beyond the obvious -- our tax dollars support the school systems, this is the future of our society. I read an editorial lately about teachers who spend their own money for basic necessities like notebooks and craft paper. I thought about our church and the things we are asked to provide to a few schools: uniforms, underpants, etc. To echo the editorial I read, when did supporting the next generation become the responsibility of volunteers?

I think John Edwards is skunk and a scumbag. I'm very glad he's been outed. I'm equally sure Elizabeth could be/might be a b*#+h and a control freak. Everyone involved in this sordid mess is slippery and opportunistic. All in all, there's a moral lesson in the wreckage of so many lives.

Gosh it's fun to look at some other lives ...

Time to Move On

2010-02-10T09:14:00.000-08:00

Well, the Super Bowl is over and as the whole world knows, our Colts did not win. I admit that I wanted our team to come out on top but I also understand the excitement for the Saints. And I admit that if a city ever needed a sports team to bring them some good news, it's New Orleans. So, it's time to move on.

My divorce is final. It fell together pretty quickly a couple of weeks ago and then I promptly fell apart. There's a lot of two steps forward, one step back. It's hard and it's sad and it's the right thing. I'm still allowed to hurt and I'm still allowed to be mad at myself and my ex-husband. It's also time to move on.

I've allowed myself to be coddled and pampered by my parents since the separation. I am upping my intensity on the job search because I have to take something. I have to get out in the world and I have to start somewhere. I can't start rebuilding my life until I actually go out and make a new one for myself. It's time to move on.

It's also time to move on from the pity party so future posts will hopefully be much more uplifting.

Believe in Blue

2010-01-22T10:39:00.001-08:00

I started doing laundry this morning with one mission -- my lucky Colts sweatshirt must be clean for the big game on Sunday. We're all a little Colts crazy right now. Even the dogs have outfits to cheer on our team.

Go Colts.

Pants on the Ground

2010-01-20T09:16:00.000-08:00

Ok, I admit it. I've been watching the auditions for American Idol. Except when it becomes cruel, I am enjoying it.

Now a 62-year old civil rights activist had started a You Tube sensation. Larry Platt performed "Pants on the Ground" which includes my favorite lyric:

Looking like a fool with your pants on the ground.

Since I have never been a fan of the gansta' rap, in-the-'hood dress code, this has become my new favorite song. Football players were singing it in locker rooms last weekend. My mom and I have been singing it in the car.

I highly recommend you google "Pants on the Ground" and watch the You Tube video. You might have a new favorite song.

And So It Goes

2010-01-19T08:51:00.001-08:00

I've been lapse in updating the blog because my new year did not start out as I had hoped. I wanted to give you all sorts of good news and positive, uplifting comments about moving forward.

Instead, I was dealt a few setbacks. And I felt sorry for myself a bit.

With all the tragedy and despair in the world -- Hmmm... Haiti perhaps? -- it is indulgent and ridiculous to get depressed over little things in life. Or is it? The little things that go wrong seem very big at the time. Guess that's just human nature.

I don't live in Haiti; I live in Indiana where I came in second (AGAIN!)for a job I really wanted. I negotiated and signed divorce papers yesterday for a marriage that is long over but with a heart that is still wounded.

My heart breaks for the devastation in Haiti and yet, it is uplifted by the miraculous stories of rescue and the humanitarian efforts. My heart is broken by some things in my life right now but I know tomorrow is another day and my spirit is resiliant.

Embracing the New Year

2009-12-30T10:29:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week, my aunt married her love. She and her new husband have both experienced love and loss with their first spouses. Now they are embracing each other and their future together. Not only am I extremely happy for them, I am inspired by them.

I'm in search of inspiration right now. Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary and my divorce is still not final. My job search is in "crash and burn" mode. I keep getting soooo close and then something happens. The roller coaster of hopes up/hopes dashed is exhausting.
But the new year is almost here and I'm finding a lot to look forward to. Or more accurately, new things to be inspired by and about.

Happy New Year

A Garden Party

2009-12-15T15:31:00.000-08:00

If you're old enough, you might remember Ricky Nelson. If you're really old, you might remember that he was a child of Ozzie and Harriet Nelson and they had a quaint little TV sitcom that still runs in syndication.

One of the benefits of being married to (and around a lot of) musical people is they know the stories behind the songs. They tend to study these things and memorize them. Even if they get them partially wrong, it's still more than I knew to begin with.

It's hard to go back. It's difficult to face old friends and acquaintances in a new reality.

Last year, the holiday season was a blur for me. I was newly separated, a raw little thing that could barely blurt out, "Merry Christmas" without dissolving into tears. This year, honestly I am still raw but the wound is scabbed over. I made a promise to myself that I would buck up and attend social gatherings when I was asked.

In 1971, Ricky Nelson was part of a Rock & Roll Revival concert at Madison Square Garden. The crowd wanted to hear his old songs and when he launched into newer material, he was booed. He left the stage.

"Garden Party" became a hit for him in 1972.

I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn't look the same

I've been to a couple of garden parties lately. Everyone is genuinely nice and happy to see me. But it's hard to shake the feeling of not singing the right song.

Ricky Nelson was a smart cookie with lyrics. He ended the song with:

But it's all right now. I've learned my lesson well.
You see, you can't please everyone, so you've got to please yourself.

A Public Official vs. A Public Figure

2009-12-06T17:40:00.000-08:00

Oh, I am so disappointed that Tiger is a Cheetah...

(I'm also really disappointed that I wasn't smart enough or creative enough to come up with that headline before someone else.)

I go back and forth on this one.

Before you think I might have lost my morals and my mind, let me be clear -- anyone who cheats is a dog. A double-devil, dirty dog. A slimy, scum-of-the-earth, not worthy-of-breadscraps dog.

Here's where I'm unclear: We didn't elect him to anything. If Nike wants to give him a b'jillion dollars to represent their company and he does something (anything!) to violate that contract, well ... that's between him and Nike. If people throw tons of money to attend golf tournaments where he will play or have his name attached, I'm pretty sure the contract is ironclad and there's no clause that regulates his sex life.

Tiger is not a public official. He does not solicit public funds and he does not receive millions of dollars to run for office. He receives millions of dollars for running an empire where he is expected to play golf in an exceptional manner. Sure, he's also expected to be a role model -- something I'm sure none of us would sign up to be.

The saddest part of the aftermath is money will change hands. Tiger and his wife may renegotiate their pre-nup, mid-nup, post-nup contract. Any sponsorship contract he signs in the future is likely to have a strong "character" clause. Everyone will cast a little shadow of doubt with possible dubious behavior.

You can throw all the money around that you want. There's nothing like a wife chasing your car down the street with a golf club in her hand, bashing in the windshield and wishing (for a second) it was your head.

Bubble Wrap

2009-12-02T11:42:00.000-08:00

Today I was waiting for a friend in Broad Ripple, a little village in the heart of our town. A parent left the stroller on the sidewalk and I noticed the label said, "Remove Child Before Folding."

Have we really come to that?

A couple of years ago, I was on a plane and they announced on the speaker that they would not be serving peanuts because a child on the flight had peanut allergies. They also asked that anyone not eat anything with peanuts during the flight.

Bad things happen.

A person who was scheduled to review photos with our parishioners was called away this week because his son was murdered for his pizza delivery money. Not too far from my neighborhood, a guy was walking his dog and ended up shot in the back, paralyzed from the waist down. This was for $20 and his cell phone which he gave up with no questions asked.

Fear is a fungus. Freaky accidents and violent crimes get the most attention because they are the most shocking and the most unusual. Yet, we all go crazy.

I know someone who wears a pistol strapped to her ankle at all times. In her daily errands and in her own home. It's terribly sad for me to think of her living in perpetual fear.

I know a couple of people from my childhood. They both have three children roughly the same age. For the record, I love all the people involved in this story. But to be honest, I am less nervous with the kids who are allowed to cross the street, crawl in my car, roll with my dog, etc. The other kids are delightful and I'm sure they have their own releases. From my limited view, I see the bubble-wrapped, "don't touch the dog" and "take your shoes off" kind of childhood. Even when my own parents tried to keep me safe, I flocked to my peers and their houses where children fell down, picked themselves up and moved on.

I worked downtown before our downtown was revitalized. For many years I walked 5 blocks to and from my parking spot. Gasp! I was unarmed. I used to beg to walk to school and occasionally my parents let me do it.

Here's what I believe and the statistics prove me out.

A child is more likely to be kidnapped by a non-custodial parent than a stranger.
A child is more likely to be molested by a family member than a stranger.
A woman is more likely to be raped by an acquaintance than a stranger.
Anyone is more likely to be killed by someone texting while driving than all of the above scenarios.

Most people are good. They will call 911 if something seems amiss. They will administer CPR or the Heimlich maneuver instead of stealing your wallet. They will risk their own lives to save yours.

In the 70s, a very young John Travolta starred in a movie, "The Boy in the Bubble."

I refuse to be the woman in the bubble.

Falling Away

2009-10-14T12:18:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. But I've had a few days lately that I want to.

So, please forgive this little unplanned break while I regroup. I will be back with new posts in a few days.

As Arnold says, "I'll Be Back!"

Marry the Geek

2009-10-04T06:39:00.000-07:00

I met someone the other day and we chatted about clothes, favorite vacation spots and fun restaurants. In the course of the getting-to-know-you conversation, I asked what her husband does for a living. He's head of IT for some fancy shmancy corporation.

I am officially, over-the-top, out-of-my-head jealous.

Please remember that I have never met this man. But I am starting to think with my head instead of my heart. And I am not interested in how much money a man makes or who he knows at the country club. I don't care if he can get the governor on the phone or get free tickets to whatever hot act is coming to town.

If I ever date or marry again, I will be practical. I want the guy who can work the remotes or fix my computer when I'm having a meltdown at 2:00 AM.

You Gotta Love the English Language

2009-10-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

Once again, I am blatantly stealing. I don't know where the credit for this should go. Otherwise, I would give credit where it is due.

I loved this and I hope you do too.

Reasons why the English language is so hard to learn:

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to
present the present.
8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13) They were too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail
18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.
19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests
21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France
(Surprise!).

Burn, turn, fern, learn, urn, stern, --- Why do we use the "e" the "u" or the "ea" for the same sound?

Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.

Quicksand works slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth?

One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese?

Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend.

If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? Is it an odd or an end?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?

If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Park in the driveway or drive on the parkway? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down,

In which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which, an alarm goes
off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the
creativity of the human race, which, of course, is not a race at all.

That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

Why doesn't "Buick" rhyme with "quick?"

Looking Back; Looking Forward

2009-10-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

There's nothing wrong with walking along memory lane. It adds perspective and let's face it -- it's fun. But lately, I am trapped on that street. Time may not heal things but it's supposed to add perspective. I'm not sure about that either. With me, it's much easier to get wrapped up in the good times, the easier times, the days that I thought all was right with the world.

This is why we have girlfriends.

And parents. And dogs.

Did I mention I had a date last night with the love of my life? The man I have shared most of my adult life with and the man who is capable of evoking every emotion and feeling with a glance or a touch...

Scary stuff for the faint of heart.

I recently plopped myself in my minister's office. I pretended to talk about committee stuff for a while until I gathered the courage to ask him (again!) for guidance about my marriage and impending divorce. Like all talented and well-schooled counselors, he was useless. I believe he said, "You're looking for me to tell you what to do and I can't do that." (He's not useless -- that was a joke!)

What he said, and it resonated, was this:
"You've already made your decision. You just need to act on it."

Yes, I do know it's time to look to the future. I may never love another man the way I loved this one.

But who knows? Maybe some really good stuff is out there once I choose to look forward.

Dinner Date

2009-10-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

One of the most talented writers I know is my aunt. She has been my inspiration for a long time.

Tonight I am having dinner with a man. It's not a date; it's not a meeting. I don't know what it is. It's not just any man -- it's the one I've lived with for 18 years. I think we're both trying to learn from each other so we don't repeat the same mistakes. I don't think I can open my heart to anyone again until I truly understand this relationship.

As I'm pondering all of this, I reread one of my aunt's poems. It's about theft and I love it.

HELP STOP CRIME
by Cecily Crossman - 1972

I accused you of a felony,
I thought you broke my heart,
And ruined my life.
But,
After thoroughly investigating the crime,
I will concede,
It could have been an inside job.

Elvis in Common

2009-10-02T07:17:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I had a job interview. I think it went well although I did not take the advice of the friend who told me to "ugly up" and tone my personality down. I figure Mother Nature is taking care of the "ugly up" part and people who apply for marketing jobs are not expected to have demure personalities. If they are, I will never work again.

The woman CEO that I interviewed with explained why she had a Thomas Kincade picture of Graceland on her office wall. It's a long story, and really not mine to tell, but the bottom line is her mother loves Elvis. Not misses him terribly and wishes she had met him -- no, this is the type of over-the-top adoration that makes this CEO daughter take her mother to Memphis every year for Elvis Week. I was happy to be able to say, "My mother was in love with Elvis too." (I did not point out that my mother is normal and does not feel the need to trek to Graceland once a year.)

If I get the job, I will have to thank Elvis.

Sorry Buddy

2009-09-29T12:18:00.000-07:00

Recently while having dinner with my parents at MCL, they told me a story about another gentleman in the restaurant. Seems he was dining there -- alone -- and having a lengthy and loud argument with himself. Eventually he calmed down and said -- to himself: "Sorry Buddy, I didn't mean to get so angry."

Today I went with my mother to the doctor. In the waiting room, a man had a conversation with himself at the water cooler. Later he coughed but instead of covering his mouth, he flailed his arms wildly, as if to herd the germs away.

I think we're hanging out in the wrong places.

Learning to Fly

2009-09-24T11:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you just want to check out. I don't mean suicide or drugs or even grave depression. I mean more of the nagging feeling that everything is going wrong, you can't catch a break, you can't find your center, every smile is forced. It's not getting up on the wrong side of the bed; it's not wanting to get out of bed.

There's an old saying that goes something like this:

Sometimes the only way to learn to fly involves being pushed off a cliff.

That's the way I'm feeling these days. I so want to fly. I want to soar. I'm just not sure how. (I'm also not sure I've actually hit the edge of the cliff yet.)

Then I feel incredible guilt at the selfishness of these thoughts.

I'm not loving these extremes. Yet, I am clinging to my belief that I will fly again.

I do not recommend the combination of quitting smoking, finalizing a divorce and job hunting.

Comfort Food

2009-09-21T16:43:00.001-07:00

Like most people, I have certain trigger foods that immediately imply comfort. Some love mashed potatoes -- I guess I do too. But mainly, I crave gooey and cheesy. I could eat macaroni and cheese every day. I don't allow myself to do it but I could.

About a year ago, I was slightly underweight for my size. Those days are gone. I've enjoyed mac & cheese, ice cream, and other guilty pleasures quite often. Now that I've balanced back to the normal range, plus quit smoking (Day 19!) I know the weight will begin to pile on.

I had three bites of mac & cheese tonight with my dinner. I probably won't do that again for a while.

But life cannot be all torture. I will still have some ice cream.

Tired and Cranky

2009-09-16T17:17:00.001-07:00

Aren't there always days when you're tired of being tired? This is one of those days. I'm tired of wanting a cigarette. I'm tired of looking for a job. I'm tired of waiting for my divorce to be finalized. I'm tired of catching a glimpse of me in the mirror -- looking tired.

And yet, I've gone two weeks without a cigarette and I haven't killed anyone yet. I have a couple of promising job prospects. I have a meeting later this week that will bring the divorce closer to closure.

I'm starting to believe I'm one of those odd, ridiculously chipper people. I took my dog this evening to a small street festival. I ate bad food and listened to a band. I was the only one who started dancing.

I will never be too tired or cranky to dance.

Random Thoughts about TV

2009-09-15T11:33:00.000-07:00

With too much time on my hands, I'm guilty of one eye on the television.

TV is truly one of my guilty pleasures and I admit I always anticipate the beginning of the new season. Yesterday I watched the premiere of the Dr. Oz show. He's the doctor who rose to fame with regular appearances on Oprah. I've seen him on Oprah a number of times and liked him but his show isn't going to make it. I don't care how knowledgeable or charming you are, it's pretty tough to make health care interesting for a solid hour every day.

I also watched Whitney Houston on Oprah. Well, I watched Part One. I think she's still as messed up as she was when she was married to Bobby Brown. I think Oprah is so in love with her that to call it an "interview" is a serious stretch. It was more of a mutual fan club meeting.

Jay Leno is not doing anything new or dramatic. His new show is nothing more than The Tonight Show airing 90 minutes earlier.

That's all I've caught but it's early yet. Now I must turn off the television and take some dogs for a walk.

Another Loss

2009-09-15T11:19:00.000-07:00

We woke up this morning to the news that Patrick Swayze lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. Not a shock to anyone but sad nonetheless.

His two big movie roles, Dirty Dancing and Ghost, remain two of my I-can-watch-it-over-and-over favorites. Especially Dirty Dancing. You know I love almost any form of dancing. Who would not have wanted to be Baby in that movie?

He seemed to be very humble about his weaknesses: smoking and drinking. He was passionate about his work and many causes. He seemed genuinely in love with his wife of over 30 years.

It will make me a little sad the next time I watch one of his movies.

Words of Encouragement

2009-09-11T08:17:00.000-07:00

This morning I went out on the deck and found a note in the dew -- not the first one this week. Today's note said, "Day Nine -- Doing Fine."

It's amazing how something that simple and sweet can set your mood.

I promise not to make this entire blog about my efforts to become a nonsmoker but for the record, it is day nine. And I am still doing fine.

Thanks Dad!

Day Six

2009-09-08T07:18:00.000-07:00

Still not smoking! I guess it's getting easier. I feel like it is and then I have a wave of something that makes me want to rip someone's face off. So far, I have been able to control myself.

Interestingly, I am craving the nicotine less than I'm craving the habit. I guess the Chantix must be doing its job. I still have my triggers:

Getting in the car
Leaving someplace where you can't smoke
After eating, etc.

My buddy is also hanging in there. She has a lot of nervous energy and is funneling it into home improvements. In a few days, she'll have remodeled her entire home.

I'm not deceiving myself -- there are lots of hard times, cravings and temptations ahead. But I'm starting to believe I can do it this time. If you understood how down I am about where my life is, you'd understand that feeling this hope is a gift.

"We Always ..."

2009-09-02T10:20:00.000-07:00

It's slowly closing in on one year since my marriage ended. While I am still legally married, the beginning of the emotional end started in the Fall of '08.

Since then, we had another anniversary; we did not spend it together. We've both celebrated birthdays and his was a milestone one. We didn't see each other for either. Separately, we acknowledged the one-year anniversary of the deaths of his parents, my original oldies. Not to mention kids' birthdays, friends' anniversaries and the holidays.

Not that this is any harder for me than it would be anyone else but I love routine. I cherish tradition. And I love the idea of knowing our favorite menus, our regular vacation buddies and our holiday traditions.

We are not enemies and I don't think we're going to be. We're friendly but not friends. "Acquaintances" feels wrong -- it implies knowing someone but not well. We know each other scarily well.

So what are we? We are no longer a we.

Quitting Smoking

2009-09-02T10:08:00.000-07:00

I am quitting smoking. Tomorrow is my first smoke-free day. I am excited and scared.

In my early years of working at the bank, everyone smoked. Right there in their offices -- it seems unheard of now. Conference rooms were decorated with huge crystal ashtrays. My boss and I spent countless hours working on budgets, plans and solving all the problems sharing a pot of coffee and filling the ashtray.

A few years later we moved into a brand new building -- Gasp! Nonsmoking! He decided to quit and we all cheered him on. But, I'll never forget him saying to me, "If I'm diagnosed with lung cancer, the first thing I'm going to do is buy a carton of cigarettes and smoke them all!"

Ok, he was in withdrawal. But I do understand the power of addiction.

Tomorrow is my turn. I've taken my Chantix even though I despise pills and I have a buddy enduring this with me. We figure we can hold each other accountable and also take our bitchy moods out on each other.

I'm telling you this for a couple of reasons:

I would appreciate support and prayers.
It's highly likely the mood of the blog may turn a little cranky for a bit.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

2009-08-26T17:26:00.001-07:00

After writing about Eunice Kennedy Shriver's death and how much I admired her, I also want to acknowledge the death of her brother, Senator Edward Kennedy.

The news broke this morning and the reporter said, "The nation is mourning the loss of Ted Kennedy."

Ok, wait a minute. How do they know the whole nation is "mourning?"

Ted was not my favorite Kennedy. Maybe it has to do with Chappaquiddick. I'm big on forgiveness; I'm equally fond of accountability.

I've always found him a little slimy. The whole rape trial, Uncle Teddy helping out his nephew, William Kennedy Smith, didn't help.

But, I must certainly admire his passion in the senate and his endless works in the areas of health care, the poor, the disabled and more.

And let's not forget he left a wife, an ex-wife, children, step-children, nieces and nephews. By tragic default, he was the family patriarch. He rose to the occasion and they were some pretty steep shoes to fill.

I guess I am mourning. I'm in awe of of this family that I do not know. I'm astounded that he is the last of the nine siblings and now the torch of this family -- America's royal family -- has been passed to the next generation.

My generation.

(Correction: Jean Kennedy Smith, Ted's sister and mother of the accused rapist, is the last living Kennedy of that generation.)

Doodling in the Dew

2009-08-26T06:34:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I go out with the dogs in the morning. I love being outside early. I love the promise of a new day.

The dew is beaded on the deck rails and everything feels crisp.

When my dad goes fishing, he leaves the house very early. But, I've noticed he doodles along the deck rails. Usually he doodles one word: Sandy.

Self Defense

2009-08-20T18:50:00.000-07:00

Do you own a gun? I know lots of people who do. Some responsibly; some not. I'm very mixed on this issue.

I'm tired of watching the news and hearing of drive-by shootings or drug deals gone awry. On the other hand, I'm tired of learning of innocent people harmed. Would they have been better off armed?

This is on my mind because I am being cautioned a lot lately. At some point, I will be a single woman, living alone. I'm armed. I have pepper spray that I will eventually blind myself with. Or, confuse it with Binaca and have zero taste buds. I have a dog who will warn me of a disturbance and then in real trouble, lick the intruder to death. If he's smart enough to carry treats, (isn't everone?) she will just go move in with him.

What's our next job? Do I get more treats?

Truthfully, you'll never know what I decide about the gun thing. And, I'm making jokes about my dog because she will always follow me. You may or may not have treats in your pocket. But I am a sure thing.

Grab a Shovel

2009-08-20T18:21:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I was used to my parents saying "no." Now I live with them again and we play the fun game of saying "no" to each other. I try to be the Food Nazi; occasionally I get to be the teenager (at 46!) in this home. I recently spent the night with a girlfriend -- dog in tow, not a danger in sight -- but my dad told me the next day that we need to revisit the curfew discussion. We will decide if I am allowed to have overnight camps when I am 50.

There are times when God says "no." Frankly, we all should know that but we continue to bargain in prayer.

Please, God, make it right.

And of course, we mean right to us, at that moment, not necessarily right for our lives or His plan.

Most of us wait for some big, huge, life-altering sign from prayer. The odds are pretty good that we won't be the chosen one who gets the burning bush or the parting of the sea. In the quiet moments, we might get the realization that we're praying really hard for something and the answer is no.

One of my dad's favorite sayings is, "If you pray for a garden, you'd better grab a shovel."

There's also the folklore tale of the olden country village, stricken with drought and holding a revival for a rain dance. (Every oldie in the world has told this story. Movies have been made about it.) The rain comes at the end.

Nobody brought an umbrella.

The Mindset List

2009-08-19T09:53:00.000-07:00

Every year since 1998, Beloit College releases the "Mindset List." What started as a cultural reminder for teachers of incoming college freshmen has grown into a document used around the world. It's a touchstone of the rapidly changing frame of reference for this generation.

It's filled from the silly to the serious. Most of the students entering college this fall were born in 1991.

Members of the class of 2013 won't be surprised when they can charge a latte on their cell phone and curl up in the corner to read a textbook on an electronic screen. They live in a world organized around globalization with McDonald's everywhere on the planet. Carter and Reagan are as distant to them as Truman and Eisenhower were to their parents. Everybody knows the news before the evening news comes on.

Here are a few of my favorites from the list:

They have never used a card catalog to find a book.

Magic Johnson has always been HIV-positive.

Babies have always had a social security number.

The American health care system has always been in critical condition.

Women have always outnumbered men in college.

There has always been a computer in the oval office.

Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream has always been a flavor choice.

The list is not intended to make the rest of us feel old but that's exactly what it does to me. It's still fun to read. To view the entire list, go to: http://www.beloit.edu/mindset/

The Kennedy Mystique

2009-08-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

With the death of Eunice Kennedy Shriver this week, Ted Kennedy is the sole remaining child of Joe and Rose Kennedy. And, I suspect we'll be eulogizing him soon.

I've always had a fascination with the Kennedys. Some writers refer to them as American Royalty and I tend to agree. Yes, they have their scandals and their bad seeds but they also have done some pretty amazing things.

Eunice was known for founding the Special Olympics and championing the mentally challenged. We all know this passion was born of her love for her older sister. This may be how she will be immortalized in the history books but I was most impressed with her role as a mother. Her four children adored her and more importantly, wanted to live up to her expectations. Her expectations were huge. There was a quote from her daughter, Maria Shriver, at the memorial service, "If my mother were here today, she would be pounding on this podium and asking all of you what you have done today to change the world."

Good question. Probably one we should all ask ourselves more often.

Fair Time

2009-08-13T09:41:00.000-07:00

My mother and I went to our state fair yesterday. It ranks pretty high on my list of annual fun things. My "sister" and another friend joined us and a good time was had by all.

My friend had a list of things she wanted to experience. (She had not been to the fair for a couple of decades.) Her expectations were pretty high:

The dog-faced boy,
The two-headed pig, and
The potato chip that looks like Jesus.

Alas, none of these were there this year but we did get to experience:

The gigantic sculpture made of cheese,
Several barns, along with their lovely smells,
An exhibit about the space program,
Gigantic vegetables, and
All the fried food you could ever think about eating.

This year, our fair has added a few extra days to the schedule. I may have to go again.

When Your Presence Is the Present

2009-08-10T09:46:00.000-07:00

We all get in situations where we are asked to attend something we would rather not. Maybe we have something more fun to do. Maybe we just flat out, don't want to go. Maybe you're like me and your mother pokes and prods and reminds and uses guilt trips until you just do it so you don't have to hear about it anymore.

It can be anything: a wedding of a coworker, a business dinner for a spouse, a hospital or nursing home visit that feels uncomfortable, a committee meeting that you know will drag on forever...

I'm getting better at setting boundaries for myself. I say no more often than I used to. But I will always be the person who can usually slip into the other person's shoes and ask myself, "Is this important to do?"

Yesterday while I served as liturgist during our worship service, I saw two faces that don't normally attend our church. They were there simply to support me.

Their presence was a gift that I cherish and I thank them.

Let's Dance

2009-08-04T18:38:00.001-07:00

It's possible that I dance every day. If you know me, you've seen it. I dance alone; I dance with strangers. I dance in supermarkets and I have left my footprints on more than one tabletop.

This is the part where I'm supposed to be sorry. Oops, I'm not. Dancing is who I am. I have been teased and shamed. It doesn't work. People who dance often make others uncomfortable. Here's a few things you should know:

I realize I'm not a good dancer. I don't care. The spirit moves me and I go.

I don't expect you to participate. I love it if you do. I am not hurt if you don't.

The true release of dancing is not always happy.

I can only speak for me but I feel sorry for people who don't know the soulful release of a good dance.

I had an iPod issue earlier this summer and I had to use my goddaughter and her boyfriend's good nature to fix it. I felt like an oldie because it was an easy fix but I needed young people to chart the course.

Now I am back in business. Flicking on my music and dancing to my heart's content.

Oh, %#*#@!!!

2009-08-03T12:21:00.000-07:00

The other day I received an email from my girlfriend and she told me about her rotten day. Later she forwarded an email she received from her company's email techies -- seems they frown on using expletives on the company email. It is such a part of my vernacular that I didn't even notice it in the email.

I know better. I was taught (by parents, teachers, adults I admire)that swearing was unladylike and a cross between laziness and ignorance. I failed that lesson and I fail it often. (Although I am extremely careful around children and in business situations.)

There's an article in this week's Time magazine that quotes a study in the journal NeuroReport. The study found that cussing does more than vent frustration; it can actually reduce physical pain. The example used is women giving birth are far more likely to blurt out a choice cuss word -- or a string of them -- when the same woman would never use such language on a regular basis.

In a moment of complete insanity, I volunteered to serve as liturgist in church this Sunday. My recurring nightmare is flubbing something and then dropping the F bomb.

I won't. But my peon brain is having a party making me think about the possibility. I'd really hate to have to find a new church.

Gone with the Wind

2009-07-31T07:05:00.000-07:00

Gone with The Wind was on last night. I love it. Not only do I own it but I watch it every single opportunity I have to see it on tv. (TCM runs it without commercials.) I also read the book once a year or so.

Every viewing or reading brings something different. For the most part, I fall in love with Rhett again (he reminds me so much of my soon-to-be ex-husband) and I relish the stories of family, the South, Scarlett, and of course, the pageantry of the whole thing.

Last night I was bizarrely frustrated with mealy-mouth Melanie. Would she please just take her drab self and go away? Not that I wanted Scarlett to end up with Ashley. Would he please just figure out that he's gay?

The most quoted line from the movie is:

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."

But one of my favorites is the exchange between Rhett and Scarlett:

""You sir are no gentleman."
"And you miss are no lady."

The Scary Side

2009-07-29T12:36:00.001-07:00

The other night I was sitting with my friend in the Flamingo Lounge, aka her family room. We were recounting our day. Mine basically boiled down to a couple of episodes where I wanted to scream, "Move aside incompetent people! I will handle this."

She calmly said, "That's your scary side."

I come by this honestly. Everyone is afraid of my mother. (Some of her friends pretend like they're not but they're not fooling me.) Even my goldies -- my friends who have known her since our childhood -- are still afraid of her. They tread softly. A wise choice. My father who was struck with the thunderbolt, freakish, out-of-this-world love potion of adoration for her knows when to clam up and move on.

I must admit she is still capable of scaring me with a look. I think all parenting skills should be modeled on the Boy Scouts/Girl Scouts. The scary look is a badge to earn.

We celebrated her birthday earlier this week. Then we had a minor health scare. In the heat of the moment, I forgot to keep my cool and my scary side came out. I believe I said something like, "Please stop doing your hair because when you're dead, they have people at the funeral home who take care of that."

Happy birthday to my scary mom and genuine thanks for the DNA.

Suddenly Single

2009-07-29T12:26:00.000-07:00

Well, it's starting. People told me it would happen and I disagreed.

More than one man has requested my company on a date.

I hate it. I hate me for questioning motives. I hate that I have lost the protective cocoon of marriage. It allowed me to be friendly and silly. It allowed me to dance when the spirit moved me -- as it often does.

I know I'm not married but I don't feel single. I feel like a bratty 5-year old saying, "I don't want to date and you can't make me!"

I don't date. Don't ask me.

But put on the right song and I'll dance like a fool.

Don't Rewind

2009-07-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

Many phases or decisions require a leap of faith. Some do it with a prayer while others adopt a "what the hell!" attitude. As I am continuing with my soul-searching, what-am-I-supposed-to-learn journey, I'm learning that it takes a dose of courage and a leap of faith to confront the icky underbelly of choices gone awry. It also takes a leap of faith to move ahead and believe there are better choices and days ahead.

Here's a lesson I'm pondering:

I've noticed that a lot of what passes for conversation only involves one party. The other person isn't interested or has heard the information before.

I am guilty of both sides.

And, it occurs to me that most of the spirited discussions toward the end of my marriage -- the last three years or so -- required neither of us to be there. We'd said it all before. We should've kept a tape of it so we could rewind, hit "play" and find something else to do.

There's a lesson in there that I'm trying to learn.

Look at me -- I'm leaping and learning.

Tainted Dolls

2009-07-22T17:18:00.000-07:00

I played with dolls and especially Barbie dolls way too long. Loved the hair, the outfits, the playhouse and all the accessories. Another memory tainted! Mattel is introducing "Tattoo Barbie."

Tattoos are not my thing. But, in all fairness, I know some people who have some cool ones. My goddaughter comes to mind.

Dolls and playthings are supposed to give you something to aspire to. Ok, maybe that's absurd when we look at Barbie -- 6' legs, 16" waist and breasts that Dolly Parton might aspire to have -- but she was reasonably wholesome and her only fault was her relentless play time with dorky Ken. (In my childhood, we threw Ken away and paired her with GI Joe -- way cooler!)

So now Barbie has to conform with the times. She's free to maim her body with tattoos. I'm sure "Pierce me Barbie" is right around the corner, complete with needles and fun jewelry for all body parts.

Little girls will have enough time to experiment with tattoos, piercings and other things in Pandora's Box.

Stuff You Should Love But Don't

2009-07-20T18:33:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, my mother made the mistake of admitting to a certain affection for some particular trinket or doodad. Don't ever do it -- especially if it has a theme. You will be inundated with them for every Christmas and birthday forever more. You are stuck.

I've also decided you should never tell people your hobbies or interests. "What? You like the Beatles? I will never again struggle for a gift! I will buy you every dorky gift produced by The Franklin Mint" -- (only 9 million produced -- you, my friend, have a collector's item!)

I am in a unique position of figuring out what is important to me from the home I used to share with my husband. I am running out of time to gather and sort many items. I'm also lucky because eventually I will start anew in a place I will call home. I already know that I have some general guidelines:

Things with huge sentimental value will make the cut.

Practical things with sentimental value get top billing. Most of my grandmother's dishes that she gave to me came from garage sales. They're in.

I will be ruthless with things I don't like or have no use for.

I must admit. This is the fun part of starting over.

Responsible Pet Ownership

2009-07-20T17:29:00.001-07:00

During Hurricane Katrina, I had friends and family who went down to help. I had family who lost their home and jobs. I had friends who doled out food, water and the occasional cash gift. I had friends or people I knew who spent their time to help people and animals in a serious crisis.

Katrina's over but we still have an animal crisis. There will always be people who take pet ownership less seriously than I do. Or maybe you don't spoil them the way others do. Maybe they don't sleep in your bed. Maybe you get a little miffed at people who don't think it's ok that they come into your home and shed all over the place. I respect your feelings; I comply. Just be responsible if you choose to own one.

Last week, I had to deal with a dog in the park that had been dumped. He was scared and lonely and slightly aggressive -- probably because he was hungry. The week before, we had two pit bulls loose in our neighborhood. Again, lonely and hungry and not super aggressive. But (and this is big!) aggressive enough to scare a hearing-imparied woman who's just trying to get some exercise.

Please don't get a pet if you don't want it. Please don't dump a pet if you can't handle it. Please get your pet spayed or neutered -- we have enough out there that need a good home.
And when the two dogs of this house get a little pushy, I wish they had brains bigger than a peanut so I could explain how lucky they are.

Bass-O-Matic

2009-07-20T04:38:00.000-07:00

Remember Dan Akroyd doing the Bass-O-Matic skit during SNL's heyday? It was gross and juvenile and over-the-top funny.

My father loves to fish. If there's a stronger word than "love," it applies. At this time of year, he's in his heyday. He brings his catchings home, cleans and fillets them. And he really enjoys eating them the old-fashioned way:

Fry those babies up!

I don't fry. I could be all holier-than-thou and pretend it's a health thing or a weight issue. It's neither. If someone else wants to fry food, I will eat it.

My mother has significantly cut down her frying since my childhood. (I'm sure my memory is skewed but I remember fried chicken, fried pork chops, fried cubed steak, fried whatever plus mashed potatoes and gravy and mushy vegetables.) Lucky for my father, she loves him enough to stand over hot grease and fry his fish.

I announce, "I'm not cleaning up!" while I shovel it in.

The fisherman of this family has been reeling them in. The cook of this family has a new appliance. It's better than the Bass-O-Matic. It's a big ol' deep fryer. One big batch and we're in no-greasy-stove-to-scrub heaven.

All I have to do is show up and eat.