October 15,2010
About five or six years ago Amazon came out with an amazing invention called the Kindle. Because I have an Amazon account I was notified of the Kindle's existence the day it launched. I clicked on the link that said something like "What's a Kindle?" read all about it and fell instantly, completely in love. I knew I wanted one with all my heart and I knew someday, if I ever had the disposable income, I would have one. I also knew that new technology starts out buggy and expensive so the fact that I would have to wait was less painful than it might have been.
So, what's a Kindle? For anyone who doesn't know, it is what is now called an E-reader or electronic book. You can go to Amazon.com to learn all about it but let me highlight some of the fantastic features that made me fall so hard and so fast.
The Kindle can hold 3,500 books in its memory, weighs less than a paperback and is maybe a third of an inch thick. Now I am a great lover of books and reading may be my all-time favorite pastime. I had accumulated a rather large library which never got unpacked when I made the move to NH years ago.I was perfectly happy to use my town's library and must admit that the books I owned had become more of a chore over years of moving them from place to place than a joy to own. So I was enjoying borrowing books rather than owning them more with each passing year. Then some unfortunate weather events combined to destroy my packed away books which were in an outbuilding. It was a devastating loss and I could not imagine attempting to replace them. As I age I become less inclined to accumulate "stuff" even if it is stuff I love. The fact that my library had been destroyed seemed like fate to me.
But the minute I saw the Kindle I knew I could own a personal library of books again. As many as I could ever read (the Kindle has thousands of books you can download for free if money's tight, can archive an unlimited amount of books for you and still keep that 3,500 ready to read instantly.) In my mind's eye I could conjure one of those libraries you see in mansions or castles in movies. You know... two or three stories of just books with those ladders on wheels to get you to any book you might want. That I could carry that around in my purse made me weak with longing.
And so I waited... and waited. Finally my time came. The latest versions of Kindle are completely amazing and the standard by which all other E-books are judged. The most expensive model is half the price of the first Kindle that snagged my heart and mind years ago. This past Monday not one but four Kindle's were delivered to my home. One for me of course, two for my daughters, and one for a dear friend. I cannot imagine ever giving a better gift frankly... what could top having all the world's great writing at your fingertips (Kindle offers over 700,000 titles at the moment and adds more with each passing day)?
So Monday night I slipped into bed with my Kindle. After much deliberation I had chosen a novel by one of my favorite authors, John Irving, to be my inaugural "read." The room was dark and the reading light attached to my Kindle emitted a beautiful icy blue circular glow onto my "page." The "pages" melted into one another as they "turned." To say it was a sensual experience of pure delight does not do it justice.
So yes... I'm in love with my Kindle. I know it will be my constant and true companion for the rest of my days. It will never show me anything I do not wish to see, nor tell me anything I do not wish to hear (did I mention the Kindle has a voice and can read thousands of the books it offers if you wish to be read to?).
So here's what I think. Love is grand!
Friday, October 15, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Happy Birthday Mom
9/19/10
My Mother's birthday was two days ago. She has been gone for over twenty years but I still miss her and think about her often. So here is a story about my Mom and a dress.
My parents met in Florida at the Pensacola Naval Base during WWII. Dad was in the Navy and Mom was working on the base. My mother was a great beauty and had many suitors.
The story of how he wooed and won her is a great one, but not the one I want to tell today. They were married as the war was ending and went to live in Dad’s hometown of Dayton, Ohio when he returned to civilian life.
In that civilian life my father was in the clothing trade. He was always dressed to perfection as it was his business and my mother was happy to play her part in maintaining a current stylish wardrobe of her own. She read the fashion magazines of the day and saw a stunning dress on the cover of one. She asked my father to see about purchasing it on his next business trip to NYC.
He contacted the designer and was told the dress was never actually made. It had literally been pinned together on the model for the magazine shot. My father persuaded the designer to make one dress for my mother, a special token of his love for her.
Shortly thereafter they took a vacation in Florida and Mom had an occasion to wear the gown at a gala event in Boca Raton. A photographer snapped her picture as she gazed into a large mirror in the lobby of the grand hotel. This picture has hung in my parents home ever since.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Chivalry is not dead... but oh so rare...
July 11, 2010
I apologize gentle readers for my absence from my blog. The heat here has been coma inducing and rendered me barely functional for a while. For you who have been keeping up you will remember my blog rant on the subject of winter. Apparently the only place on the planet where I would be content with the weather is Ecuador... but I digress.
The other day at work I had occasion to tell one of my favorite stories and in the telling knew I wanted to get it down in writing. Webster's defines chivalrous as "marked by gracious courtesy and high-minded consideration esp. to women." In my experience such gentlemen are few and far between and usually their life experiences have shaped and defined their gallant natures. But there must be a rare few who are born with this noble attribute. Cynical though I can be about the menfolk in general, I have to believe it because I am blessed to know one such rare young man.
This story begins with two children meeting in pre-school. My youngest daughter (YD) and the young man (YM) of whom I write. They formed a friendship and have remained friends to this very day. It started so long ago I cannot tell you when, but YM is also known as my "Saturday son" because he has spent most of his Saturdays with us for years. My daughter was attending our town's public school at the time as was YM but I was searching for an alternative due to her learning disabilities. As she was finishing 4th grade a new school opened for kids like her, so at that point she left the school YM was still attending and the public school system for good.
One Saturday as I was picking up YM to come to our house for his visit he asked me a question. He was a bit troubled by YD's new school which had about 8 students total and was meant to be a school that covered 1st grade to high school if all went well. Keep in mind that this is a boy entering the 5th grade I am talking about. He said he had been thinking about YD's new school and figured that since it was so small they would never hold a prom. He looked me in the eye and promised me that when he got to high school he would take my daughter to his prom because he thought that every girl should have that experience.
I was certainly surprised and impressed, but being the cynic I am I suspect I was thinking something along the lines of, "Isn't that sweet, but time will change all that." I told YM that was a lovely promise, but we should keep it just between us. I told him a lot can happen between 5th grade and 11th so we shouldn't speak of it to my daughter.
The years went by and the topic had not been raised again until another Saturday when once again I was bringing YM over to my house for his customary visit. He asked me if I realized that he was starting his junior year in high school and informed me that he absolutely intended to ask my daughter to his prom in the spring. I was stunned that he had carried that promise in his heart all those years, but still skeptical enough to tell him again that a lot could happen between fall and prom time so I didn't want him to mention it to my daughter yet. He agreed to keep it between us but assured me that even if he had a girlfriend at the time he would still take YD. Not likely I thought ( what girlfriend would stand by for that after all, even if he intended to keep his vow).
But Spring came and on a Saturday morning while I was at work and my daughter was away from home for the day YM called me and asked my permission to go over to my house and "do something." I am an easygoing gal about my house and trusted this young man totally so permission was granted.
A wee digression is required here so you can understand the layout of my house a bit as I will be trying to convey a visual moment in a sec. We enter the house through the basement and as you come up the stairs the first thing you would see straight ahead of you is the far wall of our living room. The room has a cathedral ceiling so that's a lot of wall. YM had covered said wall and most of the rest of the wall space in the living room with glow in the dark stars. When I say covered I am not exaggerating. He must have put up 200-300 stars from floor level to second story ceiling height. The stars were of various sizes and underneath a large one at eye level he had tucked a note asking my daughter to the prom. I gotta confess here that I have tears in my eyes as I write this so you can imagine how it affected me then. My daughter was thrilled and stunned beyond belief when she came home to say the least. ( Three years later the stars and note are still up on the walls by the way. Neither my daughter nor I wish to remove them.)
You need to understand that they were not romantic about each other, just very good friends. Asking her to the prom would have been more than enough, but YM went all out. He spent his very hard earned money in buckets to rent a tux, buy flowers, the works . No girlfriend could have asked for more ( My older daughter who went with her boyfriend of 4 years at the time got far less. He spent the whole evening mocking just about everything and pretty much managed to spoil it for her).
YM gave my daughter the prom experience every girl dreams about but few realize. She was Cinderella at the Ball that night as none of her former classmates from the 4th grade recognized her and everyone was dismayed when they discovered the beauty with YM was the kid who had left their school all those years ago.
There is a saying that a gift to the child is a gift to the Mother. My daughter's school years were filled with kids who mocked and bullied her because of her learning disabilities. I can tell you my heart was broken for her time and time again. I have no doubt it would have made me a bitter, cynical person. But my daughter has always had a sweet, beautiful and giving nature. I deeply admire her.
But one fine young man,"marked by gracious courtesy and high-minded consideration esp. to women", has been there from the beginning for her, a loyal and true friend. He didn't just give her a wonderful night. He gave her a lifelong memory she will treasure forever. He gave it to me too.
Here is what I think. Other than one's children, friends are life's greatest gift and blessing. Make sure you treasure yours. Mine mean the world to me and I try to let them know by action and word whenever I can.
I apologize gentle readers for my absence from my blog. The heat here has been coma inducing and rendered me barely functional for a while. For you who have been keeping up you will remember my blog rant on the subject of winter. Apparently the only place on the planet where I would be content with the weather is Ecuador... but I digress.
The other day at work I had occasion to tell one of my favorite stories and in the telling knew I wanted to get it down in writing. Webster's defines chivalrous as "marked by gracious courtesy and high-minded consideration esp. to women." In my experience such gentlemen are few and far between and usually their life experiences have shaped and defined their gallant natures. But there must be a rare few who are born with this noble attribute. Cynical though I can be about the menfolk in general, I have to believe it because I am blessed to know one such rare young man.
This story begins with two children meeting in pre-school. My youngest daughter (YD) and the young man (YM) of whom I write. They formed a friendship and have remained friends to this very day. It started so long ago I cannot tell you when, but YM is also known as my "Saturday son" because he has spent most of his Saturdays with us for years. My daughter was attending our town's public school at the time as was YM but I was searching for an alternative due to her learning disabilities. As she was finishing 4th grade a new school opened for kids like her, so at that point she left the school YM was still attending and the public school system for good.
One Saturday as I was picking up YM to come to our house for his visit he asked me a question. He was a bit troubled by YD's new school which had about 8 students total and was meant to be a school that covered 1st grade to high school if all went well. Keep in mind that this is a boy entering the 5th grade I am talking about. He said he had been thinking about YD's new school and figured that since it was so small they would never hold a prom. He looked me in the eye and promised me that when he got to high school he would take my daughter to his prom because he thought that every girl should have that experience.
I was certainly surprised and impressed, but being the cynic I am I suspect I was thinking something along the lines of, "Isn't that sweet, but time will change all that." I told YM that was a lovely promise, but we should keep it just between us. I told him a lot can happen between 5th grade and 11th so we shouldn't speak of it to my daughter.
The years went by and the topic had not been raised again until another Saturday when once again I was bringing YM over to my house for his customary visit. He asked me if I realized that he was starting his junior year in high school and informed me that he absolutely intended to ask my daughter to his prom in the spring. I was stunned that he had carried that promise in his heart all those years, but still skeptical enough to tell him again that a lot could happen between fall and prom time so I didn't want him to mention it to my daughter yet. He agreed to keep it between us but assured me that even if he had a girlfriend at the time he would still take YD. Not likely I thought ( what girlfriend would stand by for that after all, even if he intended to keep his vow).
But Spring came and on a Saturday morning while I was at work and my daughter was away from home for the day YM called me and asked my permission to go over to my house and "do something." I am an easygoing gal about my house and trusted this young man totally so permission was granted.
A wee digression is required here so you can understand the layout of my house a bit as I will be trying to convey a visual moment in a sec. We enter the house through the basement and as you come up the stairs the first thing you would see straight ahead of you is the far wall of our living room. The room has a cathedral ceiling so that's a lot of wall. YM had covered said wall and most of the rest of the wall space in the living room with glow in the dark stars. When I say covered I am not exaggerating. He must have put up 200-300 stars from floor level to second story ceiling height. The stars were of various sizes and underneath a large one at eye level he had tucked a note asking my daughter to the prom. I gotta confess here that I have tears in my eyes as I write this so you can imagine how it affected me then. My daughter was thrilled and stunned beyond belief when she came home to say the least. ( Three years later the stars and note are still up on the walls by the way. Neither my daughter nor I wish to remove them.)
You need to understand that they were not romantic about each other, just very good friends. Asking her to the prom would have been more than enough, but YM went all out. He spent his very hard earned money in buckets to rent a tux, buy flowers, the works . No girlfriend could have asked for more ( My older daughter who went with her boyfriend of 4 years at the time got far less. He spent the whole evening mocking just about everything and pretty much managed to spoil it for her).
YM gave my daughter the prom experience every girl dreams about but few realize. She was Cinderella at the Ball that night as none of her former classmates from the 4th grade recognized her and everyone was dismayed when they discovered the beauty with YM was the kid who had left their school all those years ago.
But one fine young man,"marked by gracious courtesy and high-minded consideration esp. to women", has been there from the beginning for her, a loyal and true friend. He didn't just give her a wonderful night. He gave her a lifelong memory she will treasure forever. He gave it to me too.
Here is what I think. Other than one's children, friends are life's greatest gift and blessing. Make sure you treasure yours. Mine mean the world to me and I try to let them know by action and word whenever I can.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Heart, Body, Mind, Soul and.....
6/13/2010
I ran into a lovely gal in the PO the other day. She was very frazzled , mailing off an application to a field hockey camp for her daughter at the last minute. She told me it contained a "big fat check" and sometimes she and her husband (not wealthy by any means, this field hockey camp would stretch their finances considerably) wondered if it was all worth it. I told her one of my favorite stories about my eldest daughter.
My eldest fell in love with figure skating at the age of 9 or 10. She pursued it for about 6 years and was doing double jumps and had won some very local, minor competitions on occasion by the time she moved on to other interests. Her father and I spent a fortune we didn't have (read ...credit cards) on lessons, ice time, costumes, custom made skates, two summers at Lake Placid Figure Skating Camp, etc.etc. I have rolled my credit card debts so many times I am probably still paying for some of that stuff. So she didn't go to the Olympics and she eventually gave it up to pursue other interests. Did we waste that money?
With some scholarship money and lots of financial aid loans we managed to send this daughter to a very good private High School. At the end of her Freshman year the school let us know she would be receiving a prestigious academic award for Math and invited us to attend the awards ceremony. Envision an ivy covered campus steeped in history. The elegant auditorium replete with gorgeous carved moldings, beautiful dark wood stage and maroon velvet seating was filled with about 300 people or more mostly from what I call the Country Club Set. I am sure there were others like myself and my husband there, the Poor as Church Mice Set, but we were definitely in the minority.
The stage was inhabited by the Faculty looking very formal. As the Honorees names were called they would mount the stage from the right stairway cross to receive their award and exit down the stairs (about 8 or 10 probably) on the left. None of the recipients knew they were being honored so there was the element of surprise for them as well. Some were clearly daunted by all the attention as they crossed the stage and I think as a Freshman I would have been too in spite of the fact that I was receiving an honor.
When my daughter was called up, she approached the stage, crossed it and received her award with grace and dignity. As she began to descend the left stairway she fell down the flight loudly and spectacularly. There was a stunned silence as the audience wondered if she would rise at all or if a call to 911 should be placed. From where we were sitting we witnessed the fall but could not see her on the floor so had no idea what her condition might be. The next thing we know... up pops my daughter with her arms raised triumphantly over her head (the way skaters and gymnasts do after their programs) and a smile that lit up the place. Amid thunderous applause she calmly walked back to her seat. My husband and I looked at each other and said, "The figure skating." We knew our money had indeed been well spent.
( Michelle Kwan )
The field hockey mom loved the story and heaved a sigh of relief. That "big fat check" will pay dividends she might never have imagined for her daughter.
Here is what I think. If you have children you should give them everything you possibly can from your heart, mind ,body, soul and yes...your pocketbook. If you aren't willing to give them your "all", however much your "all" may be, then don't have them.
I ran into a lovely gal in the PO the other day. She was very frazzled , mailing off an application to a field hockey camp for her daughter at the last minute. She told me it contained a "big fat check" and sometimes she and her husband (not wealthy by any means, this field hockey camp would stretch their finances considerably) wondered if it was all worth it. I told her one of my favorite stories about my eldest daughter.
My eldest fell in love with figure skating at the age of 9 or 10. She pursued it for about 6 years and was doing double jumps and had won some very local, minor competitions on occasion by the time she moved on to other interests. Her father and I spent a fortune we didn't have (read ...credit cards) on lessons, ice time, costumes, custom made skates, two summers at Lake Placid Figure Skating Camp, etc.etc. I have rolled my credit card debts so many times I am probably still paying for some of that stuff. So she didn't go to the Olympics and she eventually gave it up to pursue other interests. Did we waste that money?
With some scholarship money and lots of financial aid loans we managed to send this daughter to a very good private High School. At the end of her Freshman year the school let us know she would be receiving a prestigious academic award for Math and invited us to attend the awards ceremony. Envision an ivy covered campus steeped in history. The elegant auditorium replete with gorgeous carved moldings, beautiful dark wood stage and maroon velvet seating was filled with about 300 people or more mostly from what I call the Country Club Set. I am sure there were others like myself and my husband there, the Poor as Church Mice Set, but we were definitely in the minority.
The stage was inhabited by the Faculty looking very formal. As the Honorees names were called they would mount the stage from the right stairway cross to receive their award and exit down the stairs (about 8 or 10 probably) on the left. None of the recipients knew they were being honored so there was the element of surprise for them as well. Some were clearly daunted by all the attention as they crossed the stage and I think as a Freshman I would have been too in spite of the fact that I was receiving an honor.
When my daughter was called up, she approached the stage, crossed it and received her award with grace and dignity. As she began to descend the left stairway she fell down the flight loudly and spectacularly. There was a stunned silence as the audience wondered if she would rise at all or if a call to 911 should be placed. From where we were sitting we witnessed the fall but could not see her on the floor so had no idea what her condition might be. The next thing we know... up pops my daughter with her arms raised triumphantly over her head (the way skaters and gymnasts do after their programs) and a smile that lit up the place. Amid thunderous applause she calmly walked back to her seat. My husband and I looked at each other and said, "The figure skating." We knew our money had indeed been well spent.
The field hockey mom loved the story and heaved a sigh of relief. That "big fat check" will pay dividends she might never have imagined for her daughter.
Here is what I think. If you have children you should give them everything you possibly can from your heart, mind ,body, soul and yes...your pocketbook. If you aren't willing to give them your "all", however much your "all" may be, then don't have them.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Gene Simmons, Lady GaGa and Mark Twain
5/30/10
I have a confession to make. I am a "Gleek." For those of you who are going "Huh??" a gleek is someone who is a devoted fan of a TV show called "Glee." I was introduced to the show by my "Saturday son", a contemporary of my youngest daughters who has been spending most of his Saturdays with us for years.
The show is based in a high school in Lima, Oh. Since I grew up in Lima's neighboring town Dayton this appeals to me. Dayton gets a nod now and then, and it is fun to see if they are getting all the Ohio stuff right, like pronouncing Lima as Lie-ma (correct Ohio-nese) rather than Lee-ma as in Peru. It's about the kids in a glee club and each show is a mini-musical ( I admit I love musicals) with a lot of plot lines running simultaneously, some major, some not so. All I can say is high school in Ohio sure was different in my day. Last week's show had two subplots that collided at the end for a moment I loved.
First subplot: The boys feel the glee club caters to the girl's musical choices and want to pick their own musical number. This develops into a boy's number vs. girl's number competition. The girls end up doing a Lady GaGa song complete with Lady Gaga couture. The boys do their take on the band "Kiss" in full makeup and Kiss drag.
Second subplot: Two of the male characters ( Finn and Kurt) have a painful confrontation involving Finn's (football team quarterback as well as Glee club member) discomfort with Kurt's openly gay (Kurt does GaGa with the girls) life. Finn says some very hurtful things to Kurt, and later wants to apologize, but he realizes words are not going to take him far enough this time.
The moment I loved: A couple of football team members don't appreciate Kurt and throughout the episode keep threatening him with bodily harm if he continues coming in to school wearing his flamboyant GaGa gear. Finally they get him cornered in the boy's bathroom and are ready to lay on some serious hurt when you hear Finn's voice telling them to leave Kurt alone. The camera pans around to Finn dressed in the way the real Lady GaGa did when she met the Queen of England with red glitter eye makeup and a floor length red vinyl gown. Finn and Kurt exchange a look, and you know amends have been offered and accepted.
Here's what I think. I have always told my girls that "Actions speak louder than words." Words and actions should be consistent. This particular axiom is found in many languages, going as far back as ancient Greek and worded in different ways right up to "Don't just talk the talk, walk the walk." But sadly I think Mark Twain got it right when he commented ironically, "Actions speak louder than words but not nearly as often"
I have a confession to make. I am a "Gleek." For those of you who are going "Huh??" a gleek is someone who is a devoted fan of a TV show called "Glee." I was introduced to the show by my "Saturday son", a contemporary of my youngest daughters who has been spending most of his Saturdays with us for years.
The show is based in a high school in Lima, Oh. Since I grew up in Lima's neighboring town Dayton this appeals to me. Dayton gets a nod now and then, and it is fun to see if they are getting all the Ohio stuff right, like pronouncing Lima as Lie-ma (correct Ohio-nese) rather than Lee-ma as in Peru. It's about the kids in a glee club and each show is a mini-musical ( I admit I love musicals) with a lot of plot lines running simultaneously, some major, some not so. All I can say is high school in Ohio sure was different in my day. Last week's show had two subplots that collided at the end for a moment I loved.
Second subplot: Two of the male characters ( Finn and Kurt) have a painful confrontation involving Finn's (football team quarterback as well as Glee club member) discomfort with Kurt's openly gay (Kurt does GaGa with the girls) life. Finn says some very hurtful things to Kurt, and later wants to apologize, but he realizes words are not going to take him far enough this time.
The moment I loved: A couple of football team members don't appreciate Kurt and throughout the episode keep threatening him with bodily harm if he continues coming in to school wearing his flamboyant GaGa gear. Finally they get him cornered in the boy's bathroom and are ready to lay on some serious hurt when you hear Finn's voice telling them to leave Kurt alone. The camera pans around to Finn dressed in the way the real Lady GaGa did when she met the Queen of England with red glitter eye makeup and a floor length red vinyl gown. Finn and Kurt exchange a look, and you know amends have been offered and accepted.
Here's what I think. I have always told my girls that "Actions speak louder than words." Words and actions should be consistent. This particular axiom is found in many languages, going as far back as ancient Greek and worded in different ways right up to "Don't just talk the talk, walk the walk." But sadly I think Mark Twain got it right when he commented ironically, "Actions speak louder than words but not nearly as often"
Thursday, May 13, 2010
eHarmony and me... Part 3
5/13/10
I am finding the eHarmony pace a bit too slow for me. I shattered my resolve to remain passive and sent about 14 of my matches a 5 question opening communication letter. I just wanted to get things moving and hoped it would help clear my slate a bit since I assumed some of these guys would "ding" me and some would get in touch...whatever. Well, that was 2 days ago and only four dinged me while the rest have yet to take action one way or another.
As of this moment I have "closed" 47 matches. In eHarmony-speak this means they can not communicate with me. I would delete them altogether but eHarmony must feel that is too harsh because there is no way for me to do it. I have "archived" 5 matches. This means I am being passive, not communicating with them but open to them getting in touch with me. I am "communicating" with the 13 dudes who have yet to respond to me. In eHarmony land I have to wait for 7 days before I can send them another " nudge".I have already decided to give them 10 days to respond which I feel is more than generous. After the 10 days are up I'm closing those suckers!
I have suffered only one eHarmony heartbreak so far. I was sent a match who really did seem like a winning prospect. The guy was completely gonzo about fishing as am I! So I fired off the introductory communique with high hopes and the guy "closed" me!! Guess he wasn't really looking for a fishing buddy.
Sooooooooo... I find myself slipping into an eHarmony coma and can only imagine how boring this all has become for you my dear readers. Therefore this will be my last blog about eHarmony until, if and when something happens of interest.
Here is what I think. eHarmony is for primarily the very young and most certainly those who possess patience to at least the hundreth power. I fit neither category.
I am finding the eHarmony pace a bit too slow for me. I shattered my resolve to remain passive and sent about 14 of my matches a 5 question opening communication letter. I just wanted to get things moving and hoped it would help clear my slate a bit since I assumed some of these guys would "ding" me and some would get in touch...whatever. Well, that was 2 days ago and only four dinged me while the rest have yet to take action one way or another.
As of this moment I have "closed" 47 matches. In eHarmony-speak this means they can not communicate with me. I would delete them altogether but eHarmony must feel that is too harsh because there is no way for me to do it. I have "archived" 5 matches. This means I am being passive, not communicating with them but open to them getting in touch with me. I am "communicating" with the 13 dudes who have yet to respond to me. In eHarmony land I have to wait for 7 days before I can send them another " nudge".I have already decided to give them 10 days to respond which I feel is more than generous. After the 10 days are up I'm closing those suckers!
I have suffered only one eHarmony heartbreak so far. I was sent a match who really did seem like a winning prospect. The guy was completely gonzo about fishing as am I! So I fired off the introductory communique with high hopes and the guy "closed" me!! Guess he wasn't really looking for a fishing buddy.
Sooooooooo... I find myself slipping into an eHarmony coma and can only imagine how boring this all has become for you my dear readers. Therefore this will be my last blog about eHarmony until, if and when something happens of interest.
Here is what I think. eHarmony is for primarily the very young and most certainly those who possess patience to at least the hundreth power. I fit neither category.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
eHarmony and me... Part 2
5/12/10
OK...we all knew this was inevitable given my curiosity issues. I googled eHarmony promo codes, found a sweet deal for a 3 month membership and gave myself a Mother's Day present.
One of the benefits of being a paying member... I can see pictures of the guys if they have posted any. This is not of major importance to me as I have always believed it's what's inside that counts. But seeing these guys has been interesting.
One of them looks so much like a friend I have known and loved forever that it took my breath away. I don't think this guy and I are a match, but part of me just wants to write him about the odd coincidence of his looks and wish him good luck in his search.
As I read their "profiles" I feel daunted by what I perceive to be their expectations. An air of seriousness hangs over their words, even their joking. I get the feeling that many of them are hoping for a lot more than I am. For instance, given the age range I chose to fish in ( 58-65 ), a lot of these guys have grandkids they profess to love and adore. That's as it should be, don't get me wrong, but would I have to love and adore his grandkids too?? I'm just getting the feeling that they want their match to be on board for all their interests and that isn't gonna be me. Another example... a lot of them like to bicycle or ski or climb ( as opposed to easy hiking, something I would be up for), and , again, I think that's great...for them. Now if they want to do all that on their own or with other friends and then come see me that would be cool, but I feel they are looking for an all purpose companion.
I've been "archiving" a lot of great sounding guys ( I have been sent over 40 matches already! ) for reasons like those stated above, but I could be overreacting. At some point I'll have to communicate with a couple of them. At the moment I have adopted a passive stance to see if any of them will make a first move, but my patience probably won't last a week.
What I want is a man who will become a deep meaningful friend. I want companionship but not 24/7. I want it to be about "US" not about me fitting into his world ( meeting his family and friends, etc.) or he into mine. If things eventually led to our worlds merging then so be it, but that is not even a goal for me. I have always been more of a one on one person. I have more than enough wonderful friends ( just no male ones close by as mentioned in a previous post), and I rarely choose to experience more than two of them together at a time. I like to focus on who I am with and want them to focus on me as well.
I am not looking to remarry, nor is the physical aspect of a relationship a priority for me at this moment.This being said, I rule nothing out and am open to whatever may develop over time . At this point I just want to have fun! It remains to be seen if it can be found on eHarmony.
To Be Continued...
OK...we all knew this was inevitable given my curiosity issues. I googled eHarmony promo codes, found a sweet deal for a 3 month membership and gave myself a Mother's Day present.
One of the benefits of being a paying member... I can see pictures of the guys if they have posted any. This is not of major importance to me as I have always believed it's what's inside that counts. But seeing these guys has been interesting.
One of them looks so much like a friend I have known and loved forever that it took my breath away. I don't think this guy and I are a match, but part of me just wants to write him about the odd coincidence of his looks and wish him good luck in his search.
As I read their "profiles" I feel daunted by what I perceive to be their expectations. An air of seriousness hangs over their words, even their joking. I get the feeling that many of them are hoping for a lot more than I am. For instance, given the age range I chose to fish in ( 58-65 ), a lot of these guys have grandkids they profess to love and adore. That's as it should be, don't get me wrong, but would I have to love and adore his grandkids too?? I'm just getting the feeling that they want their match to be on board for all their interests and that isn't gonna be me. Another example... a lot of them like to bicycle or ski or climb ( as opposed to easy hiking, something I would be up for), and , again, I think that's great...for them. Now if they want to do all that on their own or with other friends and then come see me that would be cool, but I feel they are looking for an all purpose companion.
I've been "archiving" a lot of great sounding guys ( I have been sent over 40 matches already! ) for reasons like those stated above, but I could be overreacting. At some point I'll have to communicate with a couple of them. At the moment I have adopted a passive stance to see if any of them will make a first move, but my patience probably won't last a week.
What I want is a man who will become a deep meaningful friend. I want companionship but not 24/7. I want it to be about "US" not about me fitting into his world ( meeting his family and friends, etc.) or he into mine. If things eventually led to our worlds merging then so be it, but that is not even a goal for me. I have always been more of a one on one person. I have more than enough wonderful friends ( just no male ones close by as mentioned in a previous post), and I rarely choose to experience more than two of them together at a time. I like to focus on who I am with and want them to focus on me as well.
I am not looking to remarry, nor is the physical aspect of a relationship a priority for me at this moment.This being said, I rule nothing out and am open to whatever may develop over time . At this point I just want to have fun! It remains to be seen if it can be found on eHarmony.
To Be Continued...
Friday, May 7, 2010
eHarmony and me... Part 1
5/7/10
So a few days ago I'm just sitting around with not much on my plate. It was the 9th anniversary of my husband's death and felt like as good a time as any to take stock of my current state of being.
All in all the assessment went pretty well. I am blessed with my two daughters and some really stellar friends, male and female, near and far. On the downside, all my great male friends fall into the "far" category (thank God I have wonderful girlfriends nearby or I would be totally nutso). I realized how much I miss just having a guy around to hang out with on occasion. I confess there is something about the menfolk I just love.
Sooooooooooo... I fired up my trusty computer and for the heck of it googled online dating. eHarmony seemed by far the safest site so I checked it out. You can do a fair amount there for free so I proceeded. Step one is filling out a rather lengthy, and somewhat silly at times, questionnaire.
It was a fun exercise since I had nothing else pressing to do. Once the survey is completed eHarmony will start sending you matches.This is where it starts to get interesting. You get the guy's name, city and state and a bunch of his questionnaire answers.I got 5 matches right off the bat. I pondered each one and thought, "Are these really the kind of guys who are perfect for me? And if so, what does that say about me?" It's thought provoking for sure.
If you don't join eHarmony (meaning cough up some cash) you do not get pics of your matches, and you can only contact them once using an eHarmony survey form where you pick a few questions you want them to answer.I have chosen not to communicate with anyone using this method, nor has anyone exercised that option with me. I do think eHarmony is designed more for the younger set which makes sense, but enough oldies are participating to supply me a few new matches each day.
eHarmony is a very PC site, so you don't delete dubious matches, you "archive" them. I have been sent about 20 matches in the last couple of days. Many of these matches make me wonder what mistakes I made on my survey answers ( I have rechecked and can find no big errors). For instance, I was very honest about my weight yet they send me guys who put physical fitness in their top 3 things they think are personally important. I "archive" those guys at once.
I could go on and on, but for brevity's sake I think this is enough for now. What it has done for me so far is really help me clarify what I do want in a man at the moment. Interested...??
To Be Continued...
So a few days ago I'm just sitting around with not much on my plate. It was the 9th anniversary of my husband's death and felt like as good a time as any to take stock of my current state of being.
All in all the assessment went pretty well. I am blessed with my two daughters and some really stellar friends, male and female, near and far. On the downside, all my great male friends fall into the "far" category (thank God I have wonderful girlfriends nearby or I would be totally nutso). I realized how much I miss just having a guy around to hang out with on occasion. I confess there is something about the menfolk I just love.
Sooooooooooo... I fired up my trusty computer and for the heck of it googled online dating. eHarmony seemed by far the safest site so I checked it out. You can do a fair amount there for free so I proceeded. Step one is filling out a rather lengthy, and somewhat silly at times, questionnaire.
It was a fun exercise since I had nothing else pressing to do. Once the survey is completed eHarmony will start sending you matches.This is where it starts to get interesting. You get the guy's name, city and state and a bunch of his questionnaire answers.I got 5 matches right off the bat. I pondered each one and thought, "Are these really the kind of guys who are perfect for me? And if so, what does that say about me?" It's thought provoking for sure.
If you don't join eHarmony (meaning cough up some cash) you do not get pics of your matches, and you can only contact them once using an eHarmony survey form where you pick a few questions you want them to answer.I have chosen not to communicate with anyone using this method, nor has anyone exercised that option with me. I do think eHarmony is designed more for the younger set which makes sense, but enough oldies are participating to supply me a few new matches each day.
eHarmony is a very PC site, so you don't delete dubious matches, you "archive" them. I have been sent about 20 matches in the last couple of days. Many of these matches make me wonder what mistakes I made on my survey answers ( I have rechecked and can find no big errors). For instance, I was very honest about my weight yet they send me guys who put physical fitness in their top 3 things they think are personally important. I "archive" those guys at once.
I could go on and on, but for brevity's sake I think this is enough for now. What it has done for me so far is really help me clarify what I do want in a man at the moment. Interested...??
To Be Continued...
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Do you believe...?
5/2/10
I have had many experiences that would belong in the realm of what is called the paranormal today. I definitely believe. Here is just one example.
I was visiting a friend in NYC (Doc's owner in fact which makes this even more interesting if you have been following my blog) and we were out just walking around soaking up the city. It must have been Spring to Fall because I don't remember any discomfort or sensation of rushing and I for one do not stroll the streets of NYC in the Winter.
We passed by one of those Fortune Teller signs. You've seen them before, walk-ins welcome. We were just larking around with a little money to burn, both of us single and unattached, so we decided to check it out and see what our futures held.
Here is what the lady inside told me:
1. You have already met the man you will marry and he is already in love with you. (I found this intriguing, but unlikely. Interesting idea but still pretty generic prediction-wise.)
2. He is tall and dark, and yes, handsome. (Well, you can imagine the inner smirk I was having as she said that.)
3. He is considerably older than you. (Interesting thing to say.)
4. You will be married within a year.(At least a hard and fast prediction, one that I found hard to believe though given my circumstances at the time.)
Everything she said to me was true, every bit of it.
I had "met" my future husband a year before our "love bird" meeting. A friend was visiting and her boyfriend was looking for a certain kind of antique lamp. My current boyfriend and I took them to the most well known antique store in the area. A huge sprawling place called "The Famous Daniel Store" which had been around for over 100 years. All I remember about that meeting was how the owner kept hovering around my friend and I instead of helping the guys out on their lamp search. I assumed at the time he was interested in my friend because she was a hotty by anyone's definition and I have always been a BBW. To us he was a nuisance (we were both in happy relationships so he might as well have been invisible) and we repeatedly sent him away to deal with the guys, assuring him we were just browsing and his only hope of a real sale was with the lamp guy. My friend's guy found the lamp of his dreams and we left. End of story from my point of view. I never thought of the place again until over a year later when I was looking for that love bird cage. I hadn't thought of the owner at all.
The visit to the NYC psychic took place after the lamp looking incident, but before the cage incident. When I did go in search of the bird cage ( at least a year after the lamp visit), the owner greeted me with a loud and ecstatic, "Oh, it's you!!" This was so odd I looked behind me, certain he was talking to someone else. Seeing no one, I assumed he had mistaken me for someone else instead. My confusion gave him time to gather his wits and he behaved more normally for the rest of that visit. But much later my husband revealed to me that for him it was "love at first sight" (and why he had made such a nuisance of himself on the occasion of the "lamp" visit) and he had desperately hoped and prayed I would come back to his store one day, thus his outburst upon seeing me... so part 1 of her prediction was 100% correct.
As for part 2, he was tall, dark, and handsome by anyone's standards, check out the picture. As for part 3, he turned out to be 18 years my senior. The story of us discovering each other's ages is a pretty funny one and I will probably share it here someday. And as for part 4, we did marry within the predicted time frame.
So, yes...I do believe. My husband passed away 9 years ago today. Sharing this particular part of "our" story feels good. Our marriage had its proverbial ups and downs, but it was surely meant to be!
So here is what I think. Go get your fortune told with a crystal ball, or your astrological chart done. Have your tea leaves read, or a Tarot card reading. Go to a seance if you are invited to one. The so called paranormal is not so way out there. It is just a different layer in our many-layered world.
I have had many experiences that would belong in the realm of what is called the paranormal today. I definitely believe. Here is just one example.
I was visiting a friend in NYC (Doc's owner in fact which makes this even more interesting if you have been following my blog) and we were out just walking around soaking up the city. It must have been Spring to Fall because I don't remember any discomfort or sensation of rushing and I for one do not stroll the streets of NYC in the Winter.
We passed by one of those Fortune Teller signs. You've seen them before, walk-ins welcome. We were just larking around with a little money to burn, both of us single and unattached, so we decided to check it out and see what our futures held.
Here is what the lady inside told me:
1. You have already met the man you will marry and he is already in love with you. (I found this intriguing, but unlikely. Interesting idea but still pretty generic prediction-wise.)
2. He is tall and dark, and yes, handsome. (Well, you can imagine the inner smirk I was having as she said that.)
3. He is considerably older than you. (Interesting thing to say.)
4. You will be married within a year.(At least a hard and fast prediction, one that I found hard to believe though given my circumstances at the time.)
Everything she said to me was true, every bit of it.
I had "met" my future husband a year before our "love bird" meeting. A friend was visiting and her boyfriend was looking for a certain kind of antique lamp. My current boyfriend and I took them to the most well known antique store in the area. A huge sprawling place called "The Famous Daniel Store" which had been around for over 100 years. All I remember about that meeting was how the owner kept hovering around my friend and I instead of helping the guys out on their lamp search. I assumed at the time he was interested in my friend because she was a hotty by anyone's definition and I have always been a BBW. To us he was a nuisance (we were both in happy relationships so he might as well have been invisible) and we repeatedly sent him away to deal with the guys, assuring him we were just browsing and his only hope of a real sale was with the lamp guy. My friend's guy found the lamp of his dreams and we left. End of story from my point of view. I never thought of the place again until over a year later when I was looking for that love bird cage. I hadn't thought of the owner at all.
The visit to the NYC psychic took place after the lamp looking incident, but before the cage incident. When I did go in search of the bird cage ( at least a year after the lamp visit), the owner greeted me with a loud and ecstatic, "Oh, it's you!!" This was so odd I looked behind me, certain he was talking to someone else. Seeing no one, I assumed he had mistaken me for someone else instead. My confusion gave him time to gather his wits and he behaved more normally for the rest of that visit. But much later my husband revealed to me that for him it was "love at first sight" (and why he had made such a nuisance of himself on the occasion of the "lamp" visit) and he had desperately hoped and prayed I would come back to his store one day, thus his outburst upon seeing me... so part 1 of her prediction was 100% correct.
As for part 2, he was tall, dark, and handsome by anyone's standards, check out the picture. As for part 3, he turned out to be 18 years my senior. The story of us discovering each other's ages is a pretty funny one and I will probably share it here someday. And as for part 4, we did marry within the predicted time frame.
So, yes...I do believe. My husband passed away 9 years ago today. Sharing this particular part of "our" story feels good. Our marriage had its proverbial ups and downs, but it was surely meant to be!
So here is what I think. Go get your fortune told with a crystal ball, or your astrological chart done. Have your tea leaves read, or a Tarot card reading. Go to a seance if you are invited to one. The so called paranormal is not so way out there. It is just a different layer in our many-layered world.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
It's a Rube Goldberg kinda life!
A Rube Goldberg machine is one of those crazy things that starts with one small thing like a domino falling that sets off a chain of reactions, each one crazier than the last until the end result is reached. If you want to see a really good example of one check out this one a friend sent me the link to on YouTube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w
As I watched this video I got to thinking about how life (mine at least) can seem like a Rube Goldberg contrivance at times. Here are two examples from my own life.
The Rube Goldberg machine that moved me to NH:
1. My mother demanded fresh ground pepper at restaurants and God help us all if they couldn't deliver!
2. I visit a small gourmet store searching for a personal sized pepper mill to give my mom.
3. The ladies who own the place and I hit it off and they hire me to work part time.
4. The owner's husbands both work at a company my husband has been unsuccessfully trying to get an interview at for over a year.
5. My bosses talk with their husbands and my husband gets an interview.
6. My husband is hired by said company.
7. A couple years later the company ends up moving from Vermont to New Hampshire and here I am!
The Rube Goldberg machine that got me married:
1. A college friend buys a pet boa constrictor (Doc).
2. After college she and I become roommates for a year and I get to live with Doc too.
3 A couple years later she has an opportunity to travel abroad and needs a sitter for Doc.
4. I agree to babysit the snake and end up having him for over a year.
5. The snake eats mice which I must go to a pet store to purchase.
6. In the pet store there are a pair of love birds.
7. After months of seeing the love birds I decide I want to buy them, but only if I can find the perfect cage (In my mind's eye some fancy Victorian confection was what I was after.)
8. I go to an antique store in search of a cage.
9. The owner of the antique store becomes my husband even though he did not have the cage I was searching for and I never got the love birds.
Here is what I think.You might have some fun looking back on some key events in your own life and investigating the chain of events that led up to them.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w
As I watched this video I got to thinking about how life (mine at least) can seem like a Rube Goldberg contrivance at times. Here are two examples from my own life.
The Rube Goldberg machine that moved me to NH:
1. My mother demanded fresh ground pepper at restaurants and God help us all if they couldn't deliver!
2. I visit a small gourmet store searching for a personal sized pepper mill to give my mom.
3. The ladies who own the place and I hit it off and they hire me to work part time.
4. The owner's husbands both work at a company my husband has been unsuccessfully trying to get an interview at for over a year.
5. My bosses talk with their husbands and my husband gets an interview.
6. My husband is hired by said company.
7. A couple years later the company ends up moving from Vermont to New Hampshire and here I am!
The Rube Goldberg machine that got me married:
1. A college friend buys a pet boa constrictor (Doc).
2. After college she and I become roommates for a year and I get to live with Doc too.
3 A couple years later she has an opportunity to travel abroad and needs a sitter for Doc.
4. I agree to babysit the snake and end up having him for over a year.
5. The snake eats mice which I must go to a pet store to purchase.
6. In the pet store there are a pair of love birds.
7. After months of seeing the love birds I decide I want to buy them, but only if I can find the perfect cage (In my mind's eye some fancy Victorian confection was what I was after.)
8. I go to an antique store in search of a cage.
9. The owner of the antique store becomes my husband even though he did not have the cage I was searching for and I never got the love birds.
Here is what I think.You might have some fun looking back on some key events in your own life and investigating the chain of events that led up to them.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
My Dad in the Eternal City...
4/14/10
I remember as a young kid asking my dad what he thought happened to us when we die. He said he didn't believe in Heaven or Hell. He believed any afterlife we might have was in the memories we had left behind of us in others.
My dad passed away a year ago today. I have lit the yahrzeit candle and thought of the many memories I have of him. There are a lot, and happily they are mostly good ones with many that I consider stellar. I only want to share one today, and it has been hard to choose which one.
In 1967 or 1968 when I was 16 (December baby) my parents took me on a 2 week tour of London, Paris and Rome. My mom was recovering from cancer and the primitive forms of chemo and cobalt therapy that were available back then. Our first stop was Paris. We arrived at early evening and our luggage got held up at the airport. Mom was understandably tired and encouraged my dad to take me out to absorb some nightlife since we couldn't even unpack. This became our SOP when we arrived in Rome and London as well. Dad would take me out and mom would rest up a bit.
When we got to Rome it was again early evening. Rome was dad's favorite city of the three and he was itching to get out into it and show it all to me. My father was an even tempered guy for the most part. To see him so passionate and excited about Rome was a memorable experience in itself. We walked down the Via Veneto for a while and then he hailed a cab. The driver spoke only Italian and dad and I only English. Through a very energetic series of pantomimes my dad got the driver to understand that we wanted to see all the wonderful sites/sights of Rome.
The driver quickly entered into the spirit and took us first to the Coliseum. We got out and walked around in it for a while. It was all lit up and took my breath away. When we got back in the cab the driver gestured at the Coliseum and said, "Molto bella!" Well, even dad and I could figure that out and dad responded enthusiastically and again pantomimed that we wanted to see all that was molto bella! So we spent the next few hours driving all over Rome with the three of us shouting "Molto Bella!!" at the top of our lungs. It was a magical evening to say the least. Yep, definitely a stellar memory of my dad.
My guess is I am the only one living with that memory now; the driver was not a young man.
Here is what I think. I love you dad, and I will always remember.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Ode to Curiosity
Those who know me are aware of the fact that my curiosity knows few bounds and I will often chide others for their lack of same. Someone will be telling me a story and I am constantly asking, "Well, did you ask...??" or "What did they say when you said...??" only to be met by the reply that they didn't ask or didn't say whatever it seemed so obvious to me needed to be asked or said.
So ok, maybe I am overly curious if there is such a thing. And sure, I've been known to embarrass myself on occasion (though I have yet to end up with a garbage can lid on my head). But I staunchly maintain we cannot learn if we do not ask. The quest for deeper knowledge and understanding is well worth the risk of embarrassment.
Here is what I think.If you have no curiosity, develop some! If you are already of a curious bent, don't be dissuaded! Sprinkle a little curiosity on and watch yourself grow.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wicked... and the cost of belonging...or not
3/28/10
I am a lover of books and a lover of quotes. I have about ten years worth of favorite quotes on a fried hard drive with no backup disc. A tech says it would cost me about $600 to retrieve them so they remain a painful loss at the moment. But I realized today that Google is storing this blog for me so I can start a new list here.
I just finished reading the book "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire. It runs around 400 pages and three sections in it particularly caught my eye on this first read. I may well read it again someday, there is a lot of thought provoking material there and I would certainly recommend it highly. Anyway, the three quotes I want to save here:
"There was much to hate in this world, and too much to love."
"When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims. But the choice to save yourself can itself be deadly."
and finally...
"Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven, so you may always belong there bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it."
A lot of the proverbial food for thought in these quotes, for me at least, so I assume others might find them equally provocative. I want to write about the third one in particular tonight. I must say I would prefer to think of home as the place you are always loved, of course love can cause bonds of guilt as well. The "cost of belonging" has always interested me in both the microcosm of family and the larger world of our society as well. Really all three of the quotes above speak to the issue.(If you ever want to see this idea worked out visually see the movie "Witness". An outsider must hide within an Amish community. He becomes involved with one of the women, and the whole idea of what it costs her to belong is played out in a stunning barn building scene where not a word is spoken.)
Anyway, the cost of belonging versus the cost of not belonging. Here is what I think. It is something to which we should all give a lot of thought.
I am a lover of books and a lover of quotes. I have about ten years worth of favorite quotes on a fried hard drive with no backup disc. A tech says it would cost me about $600 to retrieve them so they remain a painful loss at the moment. But I realized today that Google is storing this blog for me so I can start a new list here.
I just finished reading the book "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire. It runs around 400 pages and three sections in it particularly caught my eye on this first read. I may well read it again someday, there is a lot of thought provoking material there and I would certainly recommend it highly. Anyway, the three quotes I want to save here:
"There was much to hate in this world, and too much to love."
"When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims. But the choice to save yourself can itself be deadly."
and finally...
"Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven, so you may always belong there bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it."
A lot of the proverbial food for thought in these quotes, for me at least, so I assume others might find them equally provocative. I want to write about the third one in particular tonight. I must say I would prefer to think of home as the place you are always loved, of course love can cause bonds of guilt as well. The "cost of belonging" has always interested me in both the microcosm of family and the larger world of our society as well. Really all three of the quotes above speak to the issue.(If you ever want to see this idea worked out visually see the movie "Witness". An outsider must hide within an Amish community. He becomes involved with one of the women, and the whole idea of what it costs her to belong is played out in a stunning barn building scene where not a word is spoken.)
Anyway, the cost of belonging versus the cost of not belonging. Here is what I think. It is something to which we should all give a lot of thought.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The Spoils of...
3/10/10
Well, a little over 2 weeks in and only 2 days after Valentine’s Day (when appropriately thoughtful and romantic gifts & cards were given) my daughter’s boyfriend broke up with her by texting her cell phone. Hmmm… there is so much that comes to mind at this point, but I want to stay brief and hopefully entertaining.
While they were still “in love” (and yes, he did use the “L” word) he lent her Seasons 1 & 2 of a very hilarious show called “The Big Bang Theory.” I mention this because he made the error of not retrieving them before he broke up. With the notable and interesting exception of my eldest daughter (feel free to write a comment concerning your disapproval, dear), everyone, especially the males interestingly enough, I have shared this info with agrees that the DVDs are now the property of my daughter unless the ex has the cojones to come and get them in person. She hasn’t heard from him since “The Text”, so it pretty much looks like she has a very nice consolation prize (one that will give her many more laughs and dare I say pleasure than the ex ever would have IMO).
So here is what I think. Never break up with someone other than face to face (with the obvious exception of potentially dangerous psychos, very bad choices indeed). It is hurtful, disrespectful and cowardly to say the least and you may very well be forfeiting some cool stuff in the process.
Well, a little over 2 weeks in and only 2 days after Valentine’s Day (when appropriately thoughtful and romantic gifts & cards were given) my daughter’s boyfriend broke up with her by texting her cell phone. Hmmm… there is so much that comes to mind at this point, but I want to stay brief and hopefully entertaining.
While they were still “in love” (and yes, he did use the “L” word) he lent her Seasons 1 & 2 of a very hilarious show called “The Big Bang Theory.” I mention this because he made the error of not retrieving them before he broke up. With the notable and interesting exception of my eldest daughter (feel free to write a comment concerning your disapproval, dear), everyone, especially the males interestingly enough, I have shared this info with agrees that the DVDs are now the property of my daughter unless the ex has the cojones to come and get them in person. She hasn’t heard from him since “The Text”, so it pretty much looks like she has a very nice consolation prize (one that will give her many more laughs and dare I say pleasure than the ex ever would have IMO).
So here is what I think. Never break up with someone other than face to face (with the obvious exception of potentially dangerous psychos, very bad choices indeed). It is hurtful, disrespectful and cowardly to say the least and you may very well be forfeiting some cool stuff in the process.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Winter Wimp’s Whine
3/2/10
Well folks, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to raise this subject this year. If winter had just shown a tad of mercy I might have made it through to Spring without feeling the need to indulge in a major rant on the season of my discontent, to paraphrase the Bard of Avon.
But oh no, winter had to flex its icy biceps with a freak storm that started six nights ago with a power outage at around 9pm. The weather folks called it a “Snowacaine” because the storm boasted 90 mile an hour winds too. So I resignedly went to bed hoping for the best, meaning power restored by morning.
Well, I awoke to no power. That wouldn’t have been so bad maybe, but add the insane rain that turned my basement into a wading pool. (I have a pump that usually spares me this problem, but there is one catch… it requires electricity.) Oh, and did I forget to mention the two huge pine trees that crashed into my house in the night? Looks like the house won that fight, but I won’t know for sure until I pay some handyman to remove the tree parts on my roof and the huge fallen trees in my yard.
Let’s add the expense of four nights in a hotel room. (I don’t do well when there is no running water, so I abandon ship pdq if the electric company says it will be "days" before power is restored.) Once I retire in 5 years or so I do plan to move somewhere away from winter, but for now I am stuck. I already have cabin fever by November. I hate winter with a fearsome loathing that deepens with each passing year. How I ended up in the Northeast and why I am still here will be a subject for some future blogs perhaps.
When my husband was alive we often talked about getting a generator but never did. I wouldn’t know how to run one anyway, and it isn’t really something I want to deal with at this point in my life. So my youngest daughter and I are holed up at the hotel and she tries to cheer me up. “Mom,” she proclaims, “now that I have a full time job I am going to save my money and buy us a generator.”
I tell her that is a fine and generous thought. I also tell her that if she does get a generator for the house it will be totally and utterly her responsibility because this old dog most emphatically does not want to learn the new trick… “generator”! She protests and says I will have to learn about it too because, “What will you do if I am not home and the power goes out?”
I reply? “If that happens darling, I will do what I know how to do…call a hotel!!”
In winter Mother Nature divides us into two groups here in NH, winter warriors and winter wimps.I know where I belong in that scheme.
So here is what I think. While I am all for the pursuit of knowledge, it is also important to know your limitations and stick to what you know. Oh… and winter sucks!!!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Relationships v.3.0
2/17/10
One of my two daughters has just acquired a boyfriend. This has been a source of amused speculation and chit chat at work where everyone has known her since birth. As I am known for my strong opinions my colleagues have asked me what I would do in the event that this became serious and I did not like the young man. I told them that I would tell my daughter all my reservations thoroughly and one time only. I would do this not so I could say "I told you so." later if things went badly but because I wouldn't want her coming back to me asking me why I hadn't shared my doubts with her, that old "Where were you when I needed you?" thing. You can't always be popular as a friend or a parent, but I do believe it is your duty to be honest if for no other reason than to cover your butt because the chances they will heed your warnings at that "Love's first blush" time are slim.
We all know that Love is not only blind but makes fools of us all. We have all made bad choices in this area. The best you can hope for in these situations is that the broken heart will heal quickly and that there wasn't too much collateral damage that maybe can't be repaired.
It is the collateral damage of which I wish to speak. Once again my guess is we have all been in this place at one time or another. You have just started a relationship with someone outside your regular circle of friends. There are myriad reasons why all of a sudden there seems to be an insufficient amount of you to go around.
Maybe your new squeeze doesn’t like your crowd, or vice versa. Maybe you are hearing things like, “If you loved me as much as I love you, you would… fill in the blank with anything from “you would spend all your time with me.” to “you would find some new friends.” You get the picture. Or maybe you do just want to spend every waking minute together, but trust me, that desire isn’t going to last forever.
So, I would also caution my daughter to take care with the friends she had before the boyfriend, not to take them for granted. After all, it is your friends who you will need to help you pick up the proverbial pieces if things don’t go well. And most importantly, I believe life is truly bleak without one’s friends.
So here is what I think. As stated previously, "Love makes fools of us all." But be aware, not everyone "suffers fools gladly."
One of my two daughters has just acquired a boyfriend. This has been a source of amused speculation and chit chat at work where everyone has known her since birth. As I am known for my strong opinions my colleagues have asked me what I would do in the event that this became serious and I did not like the young man. I told them that I would tell my daughter all my reservations thoroughly and one time only. I would do this not so I could say "I told you so." later if things went badly but because I wouldn't want her coming back to me asking me why I hadn't shared my doubts with her, that old "Where were you when I needed you?" thing. You can't always be popular as a friend or a parent, but I do believe it is your duty to be honest if for no other reason than to cover your butt because the chances they will heed your warnings at that "Love's first blush" time are slim.
We all know that Love is not only blind but makes fools of us all. We have all made bad choices in this area. The best you can hope for in these situations is that the broken heart will heal quickly and that there wasn't too much collateral damage that maybe can't be repaired.
It is the collateral damage of which I wish to speak. Once again my guess is we have all been in this place at one time or another. You have just started a relationship with someone outside your regular circle of friends. There are myriad reasons why all of a sudden there seems to be an insufficient amount of you to go around.
Maybe your new squeeze doesn’t like your crowd, or vice versa. Maybe you are hearing things like, “If you loved me as much as I love you, you would… fill in the blank with anything from “you would spend all your time with me.” to “you would find some new friends.” You get the picture. Or maybe you do just want to spend every waking minute together, but trust me, that desire isn’t going to last forever.
So, I would also caution my daughter to take care with the friends she had before the boyfriend, not to take them for granted. After all, it is your friends who you will need to help you pick up the proverbial pieces if things don’t go well. And most importantly, I believe life is truly bleak without one’s friends.
So here is what I think. As stated previously, "Love makes fools of us all." But be aware, not everyone "suffers fools gladly."
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
That damn straw...!!
2/9/10
Well my friends, what a week I am having and it is only Tuesday! Already I have issued not one, not two but three ultimatums in defense of myself. I don't know what the final drop in the titration was that turned my liquid feelings of discomfort to rock solid knowledge that I was being totally taken for granted, used and abused, but it must have been a doozy.
Two of these incidents are work related and frankly aren't causing me much pain now that I have had my say. After 40 years in the workplace I've pretty much seen it all.
One of these incidents is personal in nature. I still consider it unresolved so the pain factor cannot be quantified. A person I have dearly loved for over 12 years and lavished much upon in gifts, material and more important by far spiritual, has mistaken my kindness for weakness for maybe the last time. We shall see.
My mother gave me lots of advice, some good, some hilariously bad and all well meant. Her favorite saying (used mostly when referring to relationships with the opposite sex, but also for more general situations) was, "Cyr, never be anyone's doormat!" If she is looking down on me from heaven she is rejoicing I am sure in the fact that her baby girl has dusted off the footprints and stood up for herself.
Here is what I think. While it is true that you can be your own worst enemy, make double damn sure you are your own best ally!
Well my friends, what a week I am having and it is only Tuesday! Already I have issued not one, not two but three ultimatums in defense of myself. I don't know what the final drop in the titration was that turned my liquid feelings of discomfort to rock solid knowledge that I was being totally taken for granted, used and abused, but it must have been a doozy.
Two of these incidents are work related and frankly aren't causing me much pain now that I have had my say. After 40 years in the workplace I've pretty much seen it all.
One of these incidents is personal in nature. I still consider it unresolved so the pain factor cannot be quantified. A person I have dearly loved for over 12 years and lavished much upon in gifts, material and more important by far spiritual, has mistaken my kindness for weakness for maybe the last time. We shall see.
My mother gave me lots of advice, some good, some hilariously bad and all well meant. Her favorite saying (used mostly when referring to relationships with the opposite sex, but also for more general situations) was, "Cyr, never be anyone's doormat!" If she is looking down on me from heaven she is rejoicing I am sure in the fact that her baby girl has dusted off the footprints and stood up for herself.
Here is what I think. While it is true that you can be your own worst enemy, make double damn sure you are your own best ally!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Relationships v.2.0
1/30/10
So I got a call from a friend the other day having some relationship problems. For the sake of anonymity and brevity I will henceforth refer to this friend as MF (my friend) and MF's current partner will be CP.
I must say that CP has been making some pretty extraordinary demands on MF, but I am not going to talk about those today. What has me thinking from our phone call is a tangential remark MF made during the conversation. It went something like this:
"People don't really want to know the truth. They say they do but they don't."
Well, I gotta say, I am a big one for the truth. Otherwise it is GIGO (garbage in , garbage out) and nowhere is that truer than in relationships. Don't get me wrong here. Everyone has some things that they needn't share with anyone. I am not talking about full disclosure, only that whatever we do choose to disclose be truthful. Obviously the more we disclose creates the potential (not always realized but what's life without risk?) for a directly proportional deeper understanding, but that's a subject for another day.
I mean, think about it. What is the point of having friends or lovers for whom you have created an alter ego of yourself based on lies? It's not you they are in love with or friends with then, so what,I reiterate, is the point?
So people, you know where I stand. Expect the truth from me and I will expect the same from you. I don't want to play the GIGO game, and I certainly don't want to waste my relationship time and energies on ghost friends and lovers created by lies.
So I got a call from a friend the other day having some relationship problems. For the sake of anonymity and brevity I will henceforth refer to this friend as MF (my friend) and MF's current partner will be CP.
I must say that CP has been making some pretty extraordinary demands on MF, but I am not going to talk about those today. What has me thinking from our phone call is a tangential remark MF made during the conversation. It went something like this:
"People don't really want to know the truth. They say they do but they don't."
Well, I gotta say, I am a big one for the truth. Otherwise it is GIGO (garbage in , garbage out) and nowhere is that truer than in relationships. Don't get me wrong here. Everyone has some things that they needn't share with anyone. I am not talking about full disclosure, only that whatever we do choose to disclose be truthful. Obviously the more we disclose creates the potential (not always realized but what's life without risk?) for a directly proportional deeper understanding, but that's a subject for another day.
I mean, think about it. What is the point of having friends or lovers for whom you have created an alter ego of yourself based on lies? It's not you they are in love with or friends with then, so what,I reiterate, is the point?
So people, you know where I stand. Expect the truth from me and I will expect the same from you. I don't want to play the GIGO game, and I certainly don't want to waste my relationship time and energies on ghost friends and lovers created by lies.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
On the occasion of...
1/26/10
I have a favorite prayer.
"Praised be Your Name, Source of all and Creator of life, Who makes us holy with sacred tasks."
The Universe has given me two such tasks for sure, and one of those turns 21 in a few short hours. I don't know how I am doing on the holy part, but I do know my daughters were indeed sacred tasks/trusts given to me. They have taught me about love and vulnerability and sacrifice and empathy in ways I could never have imagined. I hope my lessons to them have been and will continue to be as deep and meaningful.
I am grateful for them every day. I hope they know how much they mean to me. I hope I didn't (and won't) do any lasting harm through mistakes past, present or future. I love them with all that is in me and hope that can be enough.
Here is what I think. We have all been given sacred tasks. These opportunities to make ourselves better, more than we ever thought we could be. They may come in the form of children, dear friends, complete strangers, animals... even events and issues which call us to some kind of personal commitment or action. I do believe these tasks are our life's mission and meaning. Amen.
I have a favorite prayer.
"Praised be Your Name, Source of all and Creator of life, Who makes us holy with sacred tasks."
The Universe has given me two such tasks for sure, and one of those turns 21 in a few short hours. I don't know how I am doing on the holy part, but I do know my daughters were indeed sacred tasks/trusts given to me. They have taught me about love and vulnerability and sacrifice and empathy in ways I could never have imagined. I hope my lessons to them have been and will continue to be as deep and meaningful.
I am grateful for them every day. I hope they know how much they mean to me. I hope I didn't (and won't) do any lasting harm through mistakes past, present or future. I love them with all that is in me and hope that can be enough.
Here is what I think. We have all been given sacred tasks. These opportunities to make ourselves better, more than we ever thought we could be. They may come in the form of children, dear friends, complete strangers, animals... even events and issues which call us to some kind of personal commitment or action. I do believe these tasks are our life's mission and meaning. Amen.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Use 'em or lose 'em...
1/23/10
Words, I love them, especially the polysyllabic ones. They even sound beautiful all by themselves. For instance:
Alimentary, ambidextrous, alluvial
Bodacious, bilious, bumptious
Copacetic, crepuscular, confluence
Discombobulate, deleterious, dilettante
Enraptured, epiphany, effervescent
Flamboyant, farfetched, fractious
Grandiosity, gumption, garrulous
Happenstance, hyperbole, hemisphere
Immolate, iridescent, illumination
Jocularity, jeopardize, jambalaya
Knowledgeable, killjoy, kleptomaniac
Languidly, lapidary, lachrymose
Miasma, mellifluous, melancholia
Nostalgia, neanderthal, netherworld
Ostentatious, oscillation, opulence
Plethora, processional, perspicacity
Querulous, quizzical, quandary
Rambunctious, revelatory, reminiscence
Serendipity, solipsism, salubrious
Tremulous, tantalizing, tempestuous
Ululate, usurpation, unscrupulous
Validation, verbosity, vociferous
Winsome, wanderlust, watchfulness
Xenophilous, xylography, xenolith
Yammering, yearling, yesteryear
Zaftig, zeppelin, ziggurat
Really now... aren't they fabulous? Words randomly flow around in my brain when I am not engaging in specific thought. I love to use luxuriant language whenever I can, love to read it and to hear it coming back at me too.
So here is what I think. With the dumbing down of our society those of us who like to write and speak with panache and elegance are often perceived as exhibitionistic elitists. Well that is an amphora of effluvia my friends! Heed my exhortation! Be proudly prolifically polysyllabic!
Words, I love them, especially the polysyllabic ones. They even sound beautiful all by themselves. For instance:
Alimentary, ambidextrous, alluvial
Bodacious, bilious, bumptious
Copacetic, crepuscular, confluence
Discombobulate, deleterious, dilettante
Enraptured, epiphany, effervescent
Flamboyant, farfetched, fractious
Grandiosity, gumption, garrulous
Happenstance, hyperbole, hemisphere
Immolate, iridescent, illumination
Jocularity, jeopardize, jambalaya
Knowledgeable, killjoy, kleptomaniac
Languidly, lapidary, lachrymose
Miasma, mellifluous, melancholia
Nostalgia, neanderthal, netherworld
Ostentatious, oscillation, opulence
Plethora, processional, perspicacity
Querulous, quizzical, quandary
Rambunctious, revelatory, reminiscence
Serendipity, solipsism, salubrious
Tremulous, tantalizing, tempestuous
Ululate, usurpation, unscrupulous
Validation, verbosity, vociferous
Winsome, wanderlust, watchfulness
Xenophilous, xylography, xenolith
Yammering, yearling, yesteryear
Zaftig, zeppelin, ziggurat
Really now... aren't they fabulous? Words randomly flow around in my brain when I am not engaging in specific thought. I love to use luxuriant language whenever I can, love to read it and to hear it coming back at me too.
So here is what I think. With the dumbing down of our society those of us who like to write and speak with panache and elegance are often perceived as exhibitionistic elitists. Well that is an amphora of effluvia my friends! Heed my exhortation! Be proudly prolifically polysyllabic!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Muddling through...
1/20/10
As the title implies I am not as focused at the moment as I would like to be so be prepared for some rambling.
I was 7 or 8 when I first realized that I ( capitol I, yes ME) was going to die some day. I was reading "Charlotte's Web" and as I was crying for Charlotte who "died alone" all of a sudden I was sobbing in terror for me. Contemplating My Death ( I wasn't morbid, but it would cross my mind a few times a year) was an occasion for fear and trembling and even tears for quite a while after that initial grim epiphany. Somewhere in my teens I decided that even though I couldn't face the fact of my ceasing to exist someday with equanimity, Time would take care of it. Someday, if I was granted the years, I would be able to deal with the one reality we all face with grace and peace of mind.
I was doing OK in that department until I fell in love with my husband in 1978. Love made death unacceptable. Having my children upped the ante, Death was even more unacceptable. Now I am 58. My husband passed away 8 years ago at the age of 67 (he was 18 years older than me). My children are 27 and 20 (21 in a week). While I have every intention of gracing this planet with my fabulous self for many years to come I do believe I am at peace with the inevitable at last.
Why am I writing about this? My father (95) passed away last April and my Uncle Jack (Dad's baby brother, 94) passed away last week. I am feeling their loss and the approaching losses of the remaining elders in my life. I do believe they are a special generation, formed in the Depression and the World Wars.
For those of you who have read "Lord of the Rings" you will remember the poignancy with which Tolkien wrote about the Elves departing Middle Earth... going to the Grey havens and diminishing into the West. That is how I am feeling about losing these wonderful elders. My world is diminished with each loss, and I daresay the outside world is diminished as we lose this generation as well.
Muddle, muddle, muddle...
Maybe I can't get to the heart of this because it is winter in NH and I am deep into cabin fever. My world was grey before Uncle Jack departed it and my thinking drifty and fuzzy. I wanted/needed to write something, so here it is, such as it is. Maybe I can't get to the heart of this because I don't have the heart for it.
Here is what I think... Death is the one certainty in Life so we might as well accept it and just get on with embracing our lives. When it comes to you at the end of a long life well lived, as in the cases of my father and uncle, it is no tragedy. But oh how I miss them.
As the title implies I am not as focused at the moment as I would like to be so be prepared for some rambling.
I was 7 or 8 when I first realized that I ( capitol I, yes ME) was going to die some day. I was reading "Charlotte's Web" and as I was crying for Charlotte who "died alone" all of a sudden I was sobbing in terror for me. Contemplating My Death ( I wasn't morbid, but it would cross my mind a few times a year) was an occasion for fear and trembling and even tears for quite a while after that initial grim epiphany. Somewhere in my teens I decided that even though I couldn't face the fact of my ceasing to exist someday with equanimity, Time would take care of it. Someday, if I was granted the years, I would be able to deal with the one reality we all face with grace and peace of mind.
I was doing OK in that department until I fell in love with my husband in 1978. Love made death unacceptable. Having my children upped the ante, Death was even more unacceptable. Now I am 58. My husband passed away 8 years ago at the age of 67 (he was 18 years older than me). My children are 27 and 20 (21 in a week). While I have every intention of gracing this planet with my fabulous self for many years to come I do believe I am at peace with the inevitable at last.
Why am I writing about this? My father (95) passed away last April and my Uncle Jack (Dad's baby brother, 94) passed away last week. I am feeling their loss and the approaching losses of the remaining elders in my life. I do believe they are a special generation, formed in the Depression and the World Wars.
For those of you who have read "Lord of the Rings" you will remember the poignancy with which Tolkien wrote about the Elves departing Middle Earth... going to the Grey havens and diminishing into the West. That is how I am feeling about losing these wonderful elders. My world is diminished with each loss, and I daresay the outside world is diminished as we lose this generation as well.
Muddle, muddle, muddle...
Maybe I can't get to the heart of this because it is winter in NH and I am deep into cabin fever. My world was grey before Uncle Jack departed it and my thinking drifty and fuzzy. I wanted/needed to write something, so here it is, such as it is. Maybe I can't get to the heart of this because I don't have the heart for it.
Here is what I think... Death is the one certainty in Life so we might as well accept it and just get on with embracing our lives. When it comes to you at the end of a long life well lived, as in the cases of my father and uncle, it is no tragedy. But oh how I miss them.
Friday, January 15, 2010
A Cat Tale
1/15/10
We currently have four male cats in our house. Not so long ago it was three which was more than enough thank you very much seeing as how I am allergic. These cats belong to my youngest daughter who obviously has me wrapped around her little finger on the cat issue. If I wasn't a cat lover myself maybe I could take a tougher stance, but I still marvel at how cleverly she got cat number four into the house a few months ago.
Since the first three boys have always treated my house as their personal cat toy no matter how many cat toys, scratching posts and cat towers we brought them I had told my daughter any new cats would not only be neutered as standard procedure but declawed as well. I had never had a cat declawed in my life and had some misgivings about the procedure. There is a wide range of thought about it in the cat world ranging from it's perfectly acceptable to it's psychotic mutilation.
I wasn't sure where I fell in that range of thought, but when our sweet kitten came home so groggy and pitiful looking an ugly voice began to whisper in my mind...."Mutilator...mutilatorrrrrrr."
Over the next few days watching our little guy favoring his paws and hearing his distressed calls when left alone for more than 10 minutes (he was sequestered in my daughter's room because he needed special litter while his paws healed) my guilt grew and grew. The ugly voice whispered almost incessantly. I felt like a criminal.
Long about the fifth day as I sat morbidly brooding on the whole declawing scenario I had a revelation. We had gotten the little guy "fixed" as we did with all our cats at the same time we had him declawed. I never in all my years of cat ownership had a doubt about the "rightness" of spaying and neutering and neither do the pundits of the animal kingdom. But, I thought, what if I asked the cat..."Which would YOU rather lose, your claws or your nuts?"
Poof! The doubts, misgivings, guilt and nasty whispering voice went up in smoke.
So what do I think? Sometimes perspective is everything.
The happy ending... our little guy can run, jump and climb with the best of them. He is dangerously happy and overactive from the homeowner's (in this case me) point of view. I am grateful at least once a day that we removed his claws.
We currently have four male cats in our house. Not so long ago it was three which was more than enough thank you very much seeing as how I am allergic. These cats belong to my youngest daughter who obviously has me wrapped around her little finger on the cat issue. If I wasn't a cat lover myself maybe I could take a tougher stance, but I still marvel at how cleverly she got cat number four into the house a few months ago.
Since the first three boys have always treated my house as their personal cat toy no matter how many cat toys, scratching posts and cat towers we brought them I had told my daughter any new cats would not only be neutered as standard procedure but declawed as well. I had never had a cat declawed in my life and had some misgivings about the procedure. There is a wide range of thought about it in the cat world ranging from it's perfectly acceptable to it's psychotic mutilation.
I wasn't sure where I fell in that range of thought, but when our sweet kitten came home so groggy and pitiful looking an ugly voice began to whisper in my mind...."Mutilator...mutilatorrrrrrr."
Over the next few days watching our little guy favoring his paws and hearing his distressed calls when left alone for more than 10 minutes (he was sequestered in my daughter's room because he needed special litter while his paws healed) my guilt grew and grew. The ugly voice whispered almost incessantly. I felt like a criminal.
Long about the fifth day as I sat morbidly brooding on the whole declawing scenario I had a revelation. We had gotten the little guy "fixed" as we did with all our cats at the same time we had him declawed. I never in all my years of cat ownership had a doubt about the "rightness" of spaying and neutering and neither do the pundits of the animal kingdom. But, I thought, what if I asked the cat..."Which would YOU rather lose, your claws or your nuts?"
Poof! The doubts, misgivings, guilt and nasty whispering voice went up in smoke.
So what do I think? Sometimes perspective is everything.
The happy ending... our little guy can run, jump and climb with the best of them. He is dangerously happy and overactive from the homeowner's (in this case me) point of view. I am grateful at least once a day that we removed his claws.
Monday, January 11, 2010
One question can change your life.
1/11/10
A little background material is needed for me to tell this story to my satisfaction. As soon as I was old enough to answer the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I always said, "I want to be a doctor." By high school and heavily under the influence of Jacques Cousteau specials on TV my answer had changed to Marine Biologist. The point is I was a science geek. Other girls had dolls and I had microscopes,chemistry sets, dissection kits... you get the picture.
I applied to the only two schools in the country with undergraduate programs in Marine Biology at the time (1969), was accepted at both and went to the one in Florida versus the one in California. It didn't take me long to figure out a degree in Marine Bio was far more likely to get me a ticket to a little basement lab somewhere studying some one celled plankton for the rest of my life and not a first class berth on the Calypso as Cousteau's new sidekick.
I dropped out of college in a bit of a tailspin and when the dust settled decided I wanted to study creative writing in as small a school as possible (no more Intro to Bio classes taught by television in a 300 seat auditorium for me baby!). That decision led me to the college I graduated from, Bennington College in Vermont.
I had signed up for a load of pretty heavy courses and my adviser recommended I drop at least one and replace it with something I thought would come easy to me. I took his advice and opted for an art course...what any not quite reformed science geek would think of as an "easy" choice (how wrong I was but that is a story for another day).
My first day in my ceramics class was a revelation to me. My teacher was a smallish, middle aged man. During his introductory remarks the way he talked about clay alone let me know I was in the presence of someone extremely unusual, someone I definitely wanted to have as a teacher.Whew... we are finally at the story I came to tell today.
So, I was making my second pot (we weren't allowed to use wheels yet so we were "hand-building") and came to the studio one afternoon to discover it was cracking along the bottom. I found the teacher and showed him my barely started and cracked pot and asked the question that changed my life:
"How can I fix the crack in the bottom of this pot?"
He just stared at me for a few moments. He was known for his lengthy pauses and I had already been instructed by some of the long time studio regulars to just wait him out. To this day I wonder what he was thinking before he spoke. I can tell you just about any other teacher on the planet would have told me to chuck the thing and start over. But he was the most remarkable teacher I have ever had and when he finally spoke he said to me:
"Well it depends on whether you believe in the Western philosophy of perfection or the Eastern philosophy of perfection."
You can imagine the blank look this drew from a former science person who had taken her last art course in Elementary school. He pondered my vacant expression and decided to press on. He spent almost an hour explaining the two philosophies but I am going to condense. In the West the crack is seen as an imperfection and the solution is to fix it or toss the cracked item and start over. In the East the crack is seen as the medium, in this case the clay, having its say and the artist has to decide whether or not to listen. In the East sometimes it is a flaw that makes something perfect.
So he gave me this totally beautiful and amazing talk on the two philosophies of perfection , did another lengthy pause, then told me how to use vinegar, water and pudding consistency clay called "slip" to fix the crack in my pot and walked away.
Well, I stood transfixed in that little chicken coop of a studio. Major shifts were occurring in my brain and it felt like the light filtering in through dense forest branches. There was more than one way to look at even the simplest things. I was conscious of the extreme beauty and simplicity of things on the one hand, and the extreme beauty and complexity of things on the other. Both existing side by side and each one informing us if we let them. My way of seeing everything for the rest of my life was altered because I asked that question to the right person who took the time to really give the whole answer.
So here is what I think. Never be afraid to ask a question, and if someone asks you one, stop and think and give them the best possible answer you can. There may be other forces at work.
A little background material is needed for me to tell this story to my satisfaction. As soon as I was old enough to answer the question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I always said, "I want to be a doctor." By high school and heavily under the influence of Jacques Cousteau specials on TV my answer had changed to Marine Biologist. The point is I was a science geek. Other girls had dolls and I had microscopes,chemistry sets, dissection kits... you get the picture.
I applied to the only two schools in the country with undergraduate programs in Marine Biology at the time (1969), was accepted at both and went to the one in Florida versus the one in California. It didn't take me long to figure out a degree in Marine Bio was far more likely to get me a ticket to a little basement lab somewhere studying some one celled plankton for the rest of my life and not a first class berth on the Calypso as Cousteau's new sidekick.
I dropped out of college in a bit of a tailspin and when the dust settled decided I wanted to study creative writing in as small a school as possible (no more Intro to Bio classes taught by television in a 300 seat auditorium for me baby!). That decision led me to the college I graduated from, Bennington College in Vermont.
I had signed up for a load of pretty heavy courses and my adviser recommended I drop at least one and replace it with something I thought would come easy to me. I took his advice and opted for an art course...what any not quite reformed science geek would think of as an "easy" choice (how wrong I was but that is a story for another day).
My first day in my ceramics class was a revelation to me. My teacher was a smallish, middle aged man. During his introductory remarks the way he talked about clay alone let me know I was in the presence of someone extremely unusual, someone I definitely wanted to have as a teacher.Whew... we are finally at the story I came to tell today.
So, I was making my second pot (we weren't allowed to use wheels yet so we were "hand-building") and came to the studio one afternoon to discover it was cracking along the bottom. I found the teacher and showed him my barely started and cracked pot and asked the question that changed my life:
"How can I fix the crack in the bottom of this pot?"
He just stared at me for a few moments. He was known for his lengthy pauses and I had already been instructed by some of the long time studio regulars to just wait him out. To this day I wonder what he was thinking before he spoke. I can tell you just about any other teacher on the planet would have told me to chuck the thing and start over. But he was the most remarkable teacher I have ever had and when he finally spoke he said to me:
"Well it depends on whether you believe in the Western philosophy of perfection or the Eastern philosophy of perfection."
You can imagine the blank look this drew from a former science person who had taken her last art course in Elementary school. He pondered my vacant expression and decided to press on. He spent almost an hour explaining the two philosophies but I am going to condense. In the West the crack is seen as an imperfection and the solution is to fix it or toss the cracked item and start over. In the East the crack is seen as the medium, in this case the clay, having its say and the artist has to decide whether or not to listen. In the East sometimes it is a flaw that makes something perfect.
So he gave me this totally beautiful and amazing talk on the two philosophies of perfection , did another lengthy pause, then told me how to use vinegar, water and pudding consistency clay called "slip" to fix the crack in my pot and walked away.
Well, I stood transfixed in that little chicken coop of a studio. Major shifts were occurring in my brain and it felt like the light filtering in through dense forest branches. There was more than one way to look at even the simplest things. I was conscious of the extreme beauty and simplicity of things on the one hand, and the extreme beauty and complexity of things on the other. Both existing side by side and each one informing us if we let them. My way of seeing everything for the rest of my life was altered because I asked that question to the right person who took the time to really give the whole answer.
So here is what I think. Never be afraid to ask a question, and if someone asks you one, stop and think and give them the best possible answer you can. There may be other forces at work.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Relationships...
1/10/10
Lately I have been thinking a lot about relationships. I have two daughters who are both of marriageable age and currently not in relationships. They talk occasionally about the associated frustrations, hopes and benefits of their present conditions and it gets me thinking. I was married for 22 years when death did us part. There were a lot of good years and some not so good too, so I think about that as well and tend to ponder what went wrong. My husband was a very good man and father and I truly thought he was my "soul mate". We lived together in relative peace and had a decent relationship, but we lost what we were to each other somewhere along the journey.
What is the key element that must be kept for a relationship to stay alive over the long haul? I have come to the conclusion that the essential piece to making any relationship (especially love) work is faith. I went to the dictionary to see what it said about faith and belief. Those words are often used as synonyms but there is a subtle difference that makes ALL the difference. Mr. Webster states..."BELIEF and FAITH are often used interchangeably but BELIEF may or may not imply certitude in the believer whereas FAITH always does even where there is no evidence or proof." (Mr. Webster's capitols, not mine)
So here is what I think. We can lose a lot in a relationship and find ways to continue or rebuild an even better one. But if you lose your faith, your certitude, in each other it is over. So this aging hippy says do everything you can to... keep the Faith.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about relationships. I have two daughters who are both of marriageable age and currently not in relationships. They talk occasionally about the associated frustrations, hopes and benefits of their present conditions and it gets me thinking. I was married for 22 years when death did us part. There were a lot of good years and some not so good too, so I think about that as well and tend to ponder what went wrong. My husband was a very good man and father and I truly thought he was my "soul mate". We lived together in relative peace and had a decent relationship, but we lost what we were to each other somewhere along the journey.
What is the key element that must be kept for a relationship to stay alive over the long haul? I have come to the conclusion that the essential piece to making any relationship (especially love) work is faith. I went to the dictionary to see what it said about faith and belief. Those words are often used as synonyms but there is a subtle difference that makes ALL the difference. Mr. Webster states..."BELIEF and FAITH are often used interchangeably but BELIEF may or may not imply certitude in the believer whereas FAITH always does even where there is no evidence or proof." (Mr. Webster's capitols, not mine)
So here is what I think. We can lose a lot in a relationship and find ways to continue or rebuild an even better one. But if you lose your faith, your certitude, in each other it is over. So this aging hippy says do everything you can to... keep the Faith.
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