The Scary Side

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.

Giving it Back

When my husband and I married, it was important to him that I take his name. I was a little hesitant. I really did not want to go through the hassle of changing my name. Again. I also have maintained an odd affection for my given name.

But, I am a pretty traditional person and I appreciate the symbolism and simplicity of sharing a name with a husband. A marriage -- a couple, a shared home, a shared last name.

I have used his last name for more than 16 years -- most of my professional life. More people know me by that name than my original name although thankfully, I've always held onto my maiden name as my middle name. I hope I have used his name well but I know now it was not meant to be permanent. It was given as a gift and I no longer want it. I'm thinking of it more as a loan and now it's time to give it back.

Once the nice judge says it is permissible, I will begin the lengthy (and somewhat cleansing) process of changing my name. Again. This time it doesn't feel like a chore. It feels like returning home.

And to all of you who have never quite given up calling me "Sheri Lynn" or referring to me as "Riley," I want you to know that all three names are music to my ears.

The Marrying Kind

I still refer to my husband by the title "my husband" for two reasons. First of all, we are still legally married and secondly, I probably won't ever refer to anyone else by that title again. Well, unless it has "ex" in front of it.

Although you might think that's silly coming from someone like me. This is not my first marriage or my first divorce. But, I do believe it is probably my last one. It's sad because I really like so much about being married. I never intended to be anything but married, especially this last time. Sometimes things just don't work out as planned.

I am a great studier of other people's relationships. And I know a lot of people that probably should not be married but somehow they've made it work and I haven't.

Someone very near and dear to my heart is also my idol. She was a wonderful wife and mother while still maintaining her own identity and sense of self in a role that sometimes chews up other women. Once her husband passed away, she was content to view her role as someone's wife as completed. She even said to me, "I enjoyed our many years together but I will not be anyone else's wife."

When she recently announced that she is marrying her boyfriend of several years, it made me rethink a few things. Like, I probably shouldn't make grand pronouncements of never marrying again.

Sisterhood

In the media blitz and subsequent judgement of Elizabeth Edwards' choice to write and speak of her husband's betrayal, an important point was lost in the criticism: women should not do that to other women.I've watched a couple of interviews and I've read an excerpt of the book, Resilience. We can all debate whether she should have left him -- probably not considering her health situation and their young children. We can argue about this possibly being a public flogging of him -- probably so; it is her story to tell.The puzzler (among many) is why would a woman intentionally do this to another woman? If she wanted a meaningless sexual encounter with a public figure, she could've targeted a single man. If she was longing for a husband, hearth and children, why seek that by destroying what another woman has spent decades building and nurturing?
A lot of the content is too sappy for me. The affair part is a stabbing reminder that a man she thought she knew took his clothes off for a woman with no respect for herself or the sisterhood of women.