The Fur Coat Story

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.

Not a Failure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grab a Shovel

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.