Category: love

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

What Would You Say To Yourself?

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I watched this video this morning, and began to wonder what I would say to my twelve-year-old self.  My first thoughts were “the bullying will stop”, “you’ll get better looking”, “you’ll never use advanced math so don’t worry about it”…I think I would also advise myself that some things will also get worse,  hurts change, though they hurt just as much.  Perhaps I would be philosophical and suggest that time is going to accelerate at some point, that no season is really as long as it seems.  I wonder if I would think I was just another obnoxious twelve-year-old, self-righteous and theatrical.  I don’t think I would have sought much advice, for I always felt like I was getting too much of it anyway.

The truth of the matter is, I talk to the kid inside me all the time.  It’s where certain adult wounds cut deepest, for there don’t seem to be the right kind of band-aids, where my greatest feelings of inadequacy are under-protected despite my years of learning how to hide them.   I am certain I wasn’t as prescient as this guy was as a twelve-year-old boy, to even think of making a video before videos were ubiquitous.

So I pose the question to you – if you had the chance to talk to your twelve-year-old self – is there anything you would want to say?

anxiety, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Be Honest

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I’ve got a question for you – well really, it’s a quote from Satchel Paige:

“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?”

Peter Chang - self portrait
Peter Chang – self portrait (Photo credit: chaos80129)

My own personal answer is neither firm nor absolute.  Initially, I thought the age I am now.  I am freer, wiser, less frantic, more accepting.  I don’t drive myself crazy believing that a work legacy is anything other than illusory and fleeting.  I have time for friends – old friends that I thought I would never see again and new friends that I never thought I would find at this stage in my life.  I’m smarter – or at least I think I am.  I hold onto things for far less time, and leave the perseverating to people who enjoy it more than I do.  The ghosts from my past don’t jump as high on the bed anymore.  They’ve gotten smaller, or I’ve gotten braver.  I am still ridiculously immature, do silly better than I do serious and have no intention of growing up.  I figure this intractability is ultimately a good thing – it worked for Peter Pan.

I didn’t like being a little kid, though I would give an awful lot to be horseback riding with my dad again.  I did a lot in my twenties – the best parts of it were giving birth to my sons – the rest of the decade was pretty much a disaster.  I definitely looked a lot better then.  I was fallow for most of my thirties, hiding behind my little boys while I nursed some of my open wounds.  But my sister got sick then and the mere thought of those days fills me with dread and fear (and a little nausea).  I can’t go back there, ’cause I need her here.

By the time Andy and I got together, I was closer to my forties.  Andy made me less afraid of  grown-up love.  I inherited a sister and brother-in-law I love deeply and wonderful parents-in-law.   I loved my forties – though my children became teenagers, needing to separate and return, a dance with no rhythm and what felt like no end.  I got sick in my forties.  Still looked pretty damn good – or so I’ve been told.  My dad’s decline was steeper, my mom’s anxiety heightened.  Yes, I was rocking the professional arena – and somehow that has become a footnote.

So I’m here – and I suppose this is where I would want to be – with a few caveats.  I wouldn’t mind losing the chronic pain for a few days, and sometimes wonder what will be in the future if my body is acting like such a renegade now.  There used to be an ad on tv with the tag line – “when I grow up I want to be an old woman”.  It was a good ad – lots of old women dancing around, doing lots of crazy and silly stuff – I imagine myself that way in years to come (hell, I do some of that now).  I’m determined to sparkle.  Life deserves some sequins and a feather boa.  I don’t like the implications – that more is behind me than ahead.  Other than that, I’ll take it, and don’t intend to go quietly into any good night.  I’m too lousy a sleeper.

What about you?

friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Hold This Thought

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Today, be as good to yourself as you are to your closest friend.  You may find the advice you give yourself is sounder, the kindness you show yourself is greater, and your ability to let some of the nonsense go, more finely honed.  Be who you are to those you love – and turn some of that emotional generosity inward.  Let me know how you do.  Happy Thursday all.

 

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

WonderWoman – Not

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When I was in grad school, my mentor asked me why I felt I always had to be strong.  I thought it was a ridiculous question – I had two pre-schoolers, a difficult marriage from which I was extricating myself, no job, no proximate support system – uh, what were my choices?   Wise fellow that he was, he then rhetorically posited  – ‘Isn’t it possible for someone to be both strong and weak?  Aren’t there risks you run in being either one or the other?”

I loved that guy.

So here I am in the ridiculously, unforgivably hot and humid suburbs outside Washington, D.C., trying to remember what it was like last Friday, when we had power.  Some irate storm tore through here on a whim, arbitrarily kicking down power line after power line.  I’m not sure what the storm was so annoyed about – my hunch is it needed an attention.  It got it.  Initially in its wake, there were some amusing moments.  The only open Starbucks within miles had a line that slithered around the shopping center by 7:00AM Saturday morning.  We were all jolly enough – smiling indulgently at the babies in pajamas still dozing on their parents’ shoulders, the weary comparisons between strangers “have you heard when the power is coming back on?”, the snarky looks at people asking for two venti triple-soy-no foam-lattes, with one and three-quarter pumps of hazelnut (really?  there are six hundred people out here).  There was a run on gallon jugs of any kind of water so that people could flush their toilets (many of us are on well water – you get the picture), bags of ice and an abundance of good humor.

It’s been four days and counting.  No one is smiling.  There are some assurances that everyone will have power restored by Friday.  We have so lowered the bar when it comes to our expectations it’s ridiculous.  That’s a post for another day.  Suffice it to say, I haven’t seen one truck on any of our major roads, let alone our neighborhood.  I guess they’re starting farther out and working their way in.  Happily,  my son and daughter-in-law got their power back last night, so I am sitting in comfort at their house, happily connected and soooo thankful that the Sirs have stopped panting.  They of course are so wiped out, they’re snoring (which in dogs is kind of cute, in husbands not nearly as endearing).

I am strong – and I’m a wimp.  I don’t do heat well, and humidity even worse.  My fingers look like Viennese sausages, my joints look…gross.  Let’s not even talk about this oily slick that covers my skin, not necessarily an attractive glow per se.  It makes my shorts cling to me – and I don’t even like my shorts that much.  My flip flops don’t flip or flop – they’re glued to the soles of my feet.  When I left my house to drive over here, it was 96 degrees upstairs and a balmy 88 on the main floor.  I want my power restored.  The frozen food melted all over the kitchen floor yesterday – I want to refill the coffers.  I want my house back.  Don’t get me wrong – I am beyond grateful that my kids are here – they are gracious and loving and wonderful.  But I’m fried – literally.  And when the customer service person told me (after being on hold for twenty minutes) that we weren’t even on the repair list yet – I lost it.  I know that my mom would have referred to these as ‘silken worries’, but she was wrong.  Deny a person sufficient sleep and food while seated in a sauna and you can wear a body out.

I did learn a few things though (hey, it’s me, when don’t I learn something…amazing to be this old, and find a lesson in almost everything). I learned that people you’ve never met can matter more than you could ever imagine.  Rhonda, Lori, David – thank you for being my friends – in whatever universe we have found ourselves.  I only hope I can return the favor by telling you that I keep you in my thoughts pretty damn regularly – and they’re all good thoughts.  My sister who graciously confirmed for me that I AM royalty – or at least “royally pissed off” made me laugh while I was hiccuping with sobs.  Allie and Angus – ‘hang in there hugs’ that inclined me to do so.  Aaron – who called at just the right time and said just the right things to his mom.  Matt and Liezel who told me I was being ridiculous about my hesitation to invade their home – with the dogs.  My kids – my heart and soul.  I remembered that there is beauty in silence – unless you have tinnitis.  And of no less importance – for all the really ugly behavior that we see or read about everyday, there are still some really cool people out there.  And friends of course are cooler still – regardless of what the thermometer reads.  Happy to be back among the blogging…

friendship, humor, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Gimme A Hug

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People who don’t know how to hug.  This is a pet peeve of mine.  It’s more than a pet peeve, it can be a deal breaker.

I’m sure you’re familiar with the Hollywood ‘air’ kiss?  Well there’s an ‘air’ hug too.  I’m sure you’ve felt it – or more accurately, haven’t.  Someone leans his/her upper body into yours, vaguely placing one arm within breathing distance of your back and perhaps patting your shoulder.  I realize this isn’t very generous of me, but I jump to some pretty quick conclusions about people who don’t know how to hug – really hug (a caveat – I am culturally aware enough to know that in some places around the world, open affection like this is not common practice – you lucky people are exempted from my gross conclusion-jumping, which I know is wrong, but I do anyway – sometimes).

– I think you’re emotionally self-protective

– I think you’re not comfortable in your own skin

– I think I’m going to spend most of our time together trying to knock down your walls

– You’re missing out on one of the most renewing, reaffirming, loving gestures in the world

–  You don’t like me

– You’re not into nurturing

I could go on, but I won’t.  You know how much I dislike a lot of negative redundancy (positive redundancy however, is completely ok).  There is nothing in the world that feels as wonderful as a really good, wrap-your-arms-around-someone-with-all-you’ve-got-hug.  When the boys were little, we would often drive up to Westchester to see my parents.  My dad was their primary male role model – and he filled this role with enthusiasm.  He would come into the driveway as I was extricating the boys from their car seats, and they would start yelling for the “boa constrictor”.  They’d all run into the house and dad would sit down at the first opportunity and the boys would stand in front of him as he slowly  began to coil his arms around them, one at a time.  “And now” he would say, “the mighty boa constrictor winds his way around his prey”.  The boys would start to giggle and put their arms around his neck mimicking him “and I’m the boa constrictor…!”.  Slowly they would squeeze each other until their laughter dissolved the embrace, dad kissing their baby cheeks, each boy giving himself completely over to these powerful hugs.  The memory makes me cry – sadness yes, but I can feel their delight.  That man knew how to hug.  My friend Jo is an amazing hugger – she hugs so well that though we see each other rarely, I feel her hugs all the time.  Lori writes with hugs in her words – I want to learn how to do that.

I want to feel a hug so I can carry it with me.  Hugs send a message – a message of love and delight, of support and friendship, of spirit and life.  Hugs make you laugh, they can prompt your tears.  They help explain our humanity.  They let us throw our arms wide open to the world and then hold onto something so we don’t fly away, carried by the sheer magnitude of it all.  I hope you get a hug today – and I hope you give one.  Hold on with both arms.  Put your heart into it.  Tell me you don’t walk away feeling that much more connected to something wonderful.  Feels pretty terrific doesn’t it?  I told you.

friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Trying To Wrap My Arms Around Time…

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…and I can’t.  Yesterday was one of those days where time and I faced off in the ring.  As I made every effort to grab it, time was bobbing and weaving like Muhammed Ali (oh, the irony of how this metaphor dates me in and of itself), coming near and taunting me, daring me to bring it and then sprinting out of my grasp.  I understand why I’d never make it as a boxer – over and above my true abhorrence of being rewarded for knocking someone’s brains loose,  I’d lose each match, for I think I’d keep my gloves up and my eyes closed.

I had lunch yesterday with a woman who used to work at the firm.  She was a manager in the DC office – exceedingly talented and funny with professional ambitions that extended beyond the walls of a branch office.  When I last heard from her she was heading to NY for a larger position in another well-known law firm.  She was on her way.  That we re-connected is a wonderful surprise.  And when she told me that it had been seven years since we last saw each other, I was stunned.  Seven years??  In seven years, lives change.  She survived cancer, wrote a book, moved back to the DC area, is happily employed as the administrator for a smaller firm where she runs the operational ship.  Her face still lights up when she speaks about her husband and family, she looks wonderfully the same and now has four cats instead of the two I remember.  The niece and nephews who were still small children when we last spoke, are in the process of leaving from, attending and moving on after college.  Excuse me?  When the heck did all of this happen?  I realize that time stands still for no man, but surely it would slow down for a woman – right?  Just kidding…

Later in the afternoon, I spent close to two hours speaking with a woman who was my closest friend in high school and college.  She was a bridesmaid at my first wedding (I’m not going there – the wedding, that is).  Our last sighting was close to thirty years ago.  Thirty years…decades of years cascading upon each other.  She still has a laugh like a song.  Her voice has the timber of someone who has had her share of weight to carry as an adult (see my earlier post about the increasing baggage we carry as we get older).  Her life experiences have been varied, rich and happily more love-filled than not, though the times of ‘not’ were profound and etched tattoos that not everyone can see.  I saw them – for even after thirty years I know her voice, could see her face and remember her courage and singular, determined spirit.  We spoke of our respective lives today – husbands, children, careers.  We tentatively went back to Jackson Heights – our friends, our parents – my memories of her mom and dad are as clear as glass – I see them in their apartment, at school events.  Her mom wore Pucci (not sure if they were derivative – probably not, but either way, I loved the colors), deep, alluring voice, perhaps a bit tempermental – nonetheless, she’d come home and endure our singing to Laura Nyro and James Taylor.  Her dad was elegant, soft-spoken and very tall.  I remember he always seemed to look amused by the two of us.  That’s probably right – we were a pretty amusing duo, even if we did take ourselves very seriously.

We will speak again and see each other at some point.  We are both in no small part who we once were, and connect to that understanding with a familiar comfort that few get to re-visit.  Certainly there are new loves and layers and priorities – life has happened in between these years.  And that has me a little turned around this morning.  So much life has happened.  So much time has passed.

Another blogger celebrated her 25th birthday yesterday and was struck by how quickly she had arrived on the brink of being a grown up.  I get it – even though I regard her disbelief with a smile, for she has so many more years of being tricked by time.  The moments fold into each other with increasing speed, days and weeks pass and though we can live wholly and fully, we can’t hold time.  And yesterday I wanted to hold it, just for a minute – look it in the eye and implore it to please, please slow down.  I need a moment to take this all in with nothing else happening in the interim, while I stop and look with wonder at all that has happened over the years.  All that inconsequential stuff that passed in a day that I didn’t notice, and that in retrospect make up huge, life-changing events.  I don’t want to chase time, it is clearly out-pacing me.  I just want to hold it still for a moment and ask what the rush is all about.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

So Many Lessons, Not Enough Time

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It has certainly been an afternoon rife with instruction.  I sit here before you a far brighter soul than I was this morning (ok, I’m looking at a computer screen, but that didn’t sound nearly as wise).  How much can one learn in an afternoon?  Prepare to be amazed..

1.  Do not try and untangle the vacuum cleaner hose in a swimming pool while it’s on.  Definitely do not do this right before you are heading out the door.  Unless you like driving in wet clothes, in which case – please invert this lesson and go right ahead and try this regularly.  You will get the result you seek.  That said, you could also just hop into the shower after you’ve got your clothes on, make-up done and hair dried – it will serve the same purpose..

 Although this isn’t a picture of me, the resemblance is uncanny.  I will say, that if you can do this while your dogs are happily barking at said dancing vacuum, or better yet, while you have people around watching you wrestle  – even better.

2.  My sister can still silence me with one sentence.  This time it was (I’m paraphrasing) ‘the one who drives the narrative, drives the response’.  Now you tell me – how lyrical is she?  How smart?  Yeah I know I have typical younger-sister-syndrome – I think she rocks the world every which way the world can be rocked, but come on – who comes out with stuff that good off the top of their heads?  The good news for me is that we’re genetically connected, so I may come up with something like that without a script or an edit one of these days.

3.  Laughing over lunch with a new friend is the best way to spend part of an afternoon.  Perhaps sitting outside when it’s ridiculously hot and humid isn’t the best idea, but if you’re both glowing it makes it okay.

4.  While we were away, I was given ‘The Commentator Award’ by the very inspirational and candid author of the blog GenieSpeaks.wordpress.com.  My understanding is that this is an acknowledgement of my comments when she posts.  She makes it easy – I enjoy her blogs and her sheer delight in the world around her.  Travel.Culture.Food.wordpress.com was kind enough to give me ‘The Sunshine Blogger’ award.  If you ever want to be transported visually and carried away in your daydreams, visit this blog.  You will enjoy the commentary – the exuberance is almost palpable.  I have received this award once before from SimonMarsh.wordpress.com, but have just figured out exactly how to post these images without the assistance of one of my kids or kids-in-law.  If there’s a ‘Really Smart Blogger Award’, I hope no one ever thinks of me as a possible recipient – it would be disingenuous, I think.

5.  I don’t want to minimize this praise, nor diminish the fact that I am continually surprised by such largesse.  I am beyond appreciative and I thank you.  But today I  learned that there aren’t sufficient written alternatives in the English language (or perhaps it’s my limited vocabulary) to express the sheer joy that I have found in this welcoming, forgiving and generous new group of friends.  For I feel that those who read this blog have become my friends.  I look forward to your posts, I run back to the computer to read your comments, some of us have emailed separately, others reblog…And in this way, we continue to get to know each other and show each other who we are without some of the filters that might exist were we to be introduced in person.  I started writing this blog in January – since then it’s been visited by over 10,000 people (presumably most of them have come in error) and there are hundreds of people who are following with intention.  I’m not sure why.  I do know that five months ago I thought I would try this and see where the road led.  It led me to you.  You give me far more than awards – you give me your laughter, your stories, your tears,  your encouragement, your opinions, your perspective, your talent.  Certainly you have given more than I could have asked for or expected.  How do you thank people you feel you know but have never met, for the gift of trust and love and friendship?  This is a meager attempt to express the abundant gratitude and joy that you have given me.  Which leads me to…

6.  There are surprises in each day.  There is krazy karma and indescribable, head-shaking moments of wonder and humility.  And if you know that, no matter how drenched you may get, you’re never all wet.

inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Walking Into Life

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I think I’ve lived a good deal of my life with my senses on high alert.  When the boys were babies and I was a single mom, I remember sleeping with one ear measuring the rhythm of their breaths, the other attuned to the sounds of the house – I had to be ready, just in case.  I have always been neurotic at work – my silly view that as technology allowed 24/7 availability, I was supposed to be available in every time zone (for we had 33 office around the world).  This made me a very valuable employee in the environment known as ‘Big Law’ – where the bizarre ‘play hurt’ philosophy still drives the billable hour and the head-shaking awe and respect of others.  I’m the person you want in a crisis – no tears, very collected, logical – I’m ready.  Divorce?  Death?  Employment issue?  Performance problem?  Marital angst?  Sick child?  I’m your woman.  I can make it through Whole Foods in fifteen minutes and fill the cart with the proper items.  I don’t love anyone or anything in a half-assed way, and as such I will give it  everything I’ve got – no questions asked.  I have run head long into life – but for the times when I’ve crashed into a wall.

I crashed into a wall when I was diagnosed with this stupid autoimmune disease that makes my joints swell inexplicably, the tendons twisting and rioting without provocation.  When I realized that after too many surgeries I was  going to have to figure out the music that accompanies chronic pain so I could understand the rhythm I’d be dancing too (I hate being off the beat, though I am clearly off-beat).   I didn’t see the wall on Sunday. We were having brunch with our friends who asked about the Jewish ritual of sitting shiva – a seven-day mourning period after the death of an immediate family member.  After seven days in the house, one is supposed to go outside and walk back into life.  I remembered my sister and I doing this after the shiva period for both of our parents.  I couldn’t speak, for the pain of missing my parents was so visceral in that moment.  And I swear to you, for a moment I thought my heart stopped.  Walking back into life.  Walking back into life a person changed forever.

So it was when I retired last year.  No need to re-visit the early days of dissonance, when no notes came together to form a lovely sound.  Suffice it to say, I was opening the door and walking outside, completely unfamiliar with my space in the world.  At first, I walked with purpose – almost defiantly.  At some point I slowed, realizing that I had the chance just to breathe.  I wasn’t driven by urgent need – or my perception of urgent need.  I didn’t need to walk back into life for any reason other than it was my due.  It has taken me months to figure out this new rhythm, embrace the richness of this music and accept that just being me is reason enough to walk into life.  I need not be raising and protecting my delicious boys,  I don’t have to be grieving, I don’t have to be on call for anyone who may need me for reasons which they consider critical (but in retrospect were often pretty self-serving).

The beauty of stopping before you open the door lies in the anticipation of what you will find.  Each day, I now pause.  I close my eyes and open them just to be surprised at what may appear before me.  Goofy?  Perhaps.  A reminder that this is the only moment?  Definitely.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Caffeine Anyone?

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A post about the joys of coffee?  No – although perhaps a nod to the nectar of the gods, especially as it is being brewed.  I realize that many could argue that there are other olfactory stimuli that parallel the sense of delight that coffee elicits, but I believe you’re wrong (caveat – freshly washed baby smells don’t count).  For all I know it smells way better than it tastes – that first cup of coffee is an experience for all the senses – even ESP – I know what will happen once I begin drinking it.  I will sigh.  My head will begin to realize that I’m awake (my body typically follows, not to worry).  The Sirs fall asleep after their breakfast and give me the privacy and silence to reverently watch the sun come up.  I slowly write my good morning blog and pause every once in a while to make sure it’s making sense.  All of this occurs with the promise of freshly brewed coffee.

I am not an aficionado  – I just like it strong.  I don’t know the difference between crema and foam, the implications of buying beans from the southern corners of Africa or the rain forest  in Brazil.  I grew up believing that Chock Ful O’ Nuts ‘was a heavenly coffee’.  Fine by me – it made it possible to talk to my mom each day, for there was no talking allowed until she had a cup.  We’re packing up to go to the mountains with friends  for the weekend and the only requirement from me?  Coffee.  And half and half.  A mug.  I’m pretty easy..(ok, I’m not easy, but clearly I can be had – how embarrassing).

It occurs to me that I’ve just provided you with two paragraphs on coffee.  Ah well – it’s Friday!  It’s time to take off your big girl and boy pants and get a little crazy, whatever your definition of that may be.  Cannonball into a pool, eat ice cream with sprinkles and a cone and forget the calorie angel sitting on your shoulder – in fact, tell her to give it a rest.  It’s the weekend.  Go outside if you can and find one thing you never noticed before (hint – a new bud on a flowering bush counts), make faces in a mirror (I do this naturally – it amuses me), tickle as many senses as you can just by being exactly where and who you are.  Play.  Hug. Giggle. Revel.  But first – have a cup of coffee.  Happy weekend all..

inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Making Up For Lost Time

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I’m not exactly sure how one does that – make up for lost time.  Perhaps one begins by recognizing that future moments must be met with arms wide open and an abandon that we typically temper with reason.  While I was away I received two blogger awards which I wanted to acknowledge in a separate post, because both of these women are so remarkable that their stories deserve more mention than I could provide in yesterday’s posts.

I received the One Lovely Blogger Award from the remarkable woman who writes the blog workthedream.com.  danLrene is a woman with remarkable spirit and humor – despite or maybe because of – significant physical challenges that she refuses to use as definitions for who she is.  She realized her dream of living in the mountains and her journey often left me shaking my head with wonder and respect.  On her post is a quote which typifies her beliefs – ‘dare to dream of a greater thing than you can imagine’.  With bright red leg brace, portable oxygen unit and a heart that probably is larger than the mountain range itself, she moves forward with spirit and generosity.  I am humbled that she would find the time to read my blog, let alone accord me with such an acknowledgement.

The Illuminating Blogger Award was graciously given to me by Dr. Sherry Showalter who pens a blog titled keepinitreal.com.  Dr. Sherry is a spiritual wonder woman.  With a PhD and L.C.S.W, she has devoted her life to providing caregiving and advocacy for patients and families coping with loss, death and bereavement.  Serendipitously, I won her book “Healing Heartaches” in a random drawing – though I wonder now whether it was truly happenstance.  Her blog is a free form, stream of conscious shout-out to life and her loving exuberance demands that you smile – she will not settle for less.  The post she wrote in which she acknowledged my blog, was really more about a young man who is no longer receiving treatment for his terminal illness. I was riveted and sad and thankful that he has the power of Dr. Sherry with him.   He is a remarkable spirit and I wept for his impending journey and his family who are facing this reality with him.  Her compassion and passion envelop each word and each request that we hold this child in our thoughts.  Interestingly, this post was more formally written than usual – and appropriately so.  I think of him each morning and send up a little prayer.   Dr. Sherry is part Native American spiritual healer, part good ol’ girl from southern Virginia (and I mean that in the most complimentary of ways) and all live-affirming energy.

I know there are rules to these awards, but somehow inconsequential factoids about me seem to dilute the stories of both of these women.  This post is for them –  remarkable women who have entered my life through their words, spirit and wonder.  And I am very, very grateful to them both.

friendship, humor, life lessons, love

Of Love and Turtles and Lifetimes, Oh My!

mimijk

Catching up from one weekend away is really quite overwhelming.  There was some news though which still has me reeling –  I’m sure you saw or read about it as well – the break up of Bibi and Poldi.  A greater love story has never been told.  Two giant turtles joined together by circumstance, lust or a mutual affection for grape leaves can no longer abide each other’s presence, let alone give each other a kiss good morning.

Bibi’s the one who wants out.  She’s become quite the nasty old girl – she bit Poldi’s shell and basically told him to get out.  Unfortunately, even if Poldi had a place to go, it would take him about a month to make any progress towards the door.  Their caregivers (for at their age, you really can’t call these people anything other than ‘caregivers’) have tried many interventions – marital counseling, turtle aphrodisiacs (I have no idea what these are – Cialis?  Dark chocolate and strawberries?),  I even think someone penned a love letter to Bibi on Poldi’s behalf.  Nothing’s worked – no medically reinforced erection, the chocolate upset their digestive tracts and Poldi ate the letter.  Yes, I made up the last part.

I wonder whether we’ve really given them enough time or too much time?  I mean, do we know when Bibi really fell out of love?  Given the speed with which things happen in Turtledom, she might have been enduring a loveless union for the last fifty years – in which case, I think biting her spouse was a pretty mild response.  Can one really blame her for being tired of looking at the same wrinkled face day after day, year after year? Making the same breakfast, withstanding the same lack of table manners – not even getting a “thank you honey” for over a century?  One hundred and fifteen years of waiting for the rock to be moved, a birthday to be remembered, maybe an understanding hug in lieu of a mechanical climb up her back which takes so long, he forgets what he’s doing up there, and she falls asleep feeling like the weight of the world is on her shoulders?  Can you blame the poor girl?  When is enough enough?  I am confident that if she gets a good turtle lawyer (like Raoul Felder dressed as a Ninja Turtle)  she’ll be able to live her remaining six hundred years in peace.

And Poldi?  My hunch is that he wouldn’t mind a little more peace and quiet either.  A hundred years ago, she was a helluva looker, with bedroom eyes and a smile that would melt anybody’s shell.  Now she’s just a bitter, hormonal kvetch who finds fault with everything he does.  Not to mention that she could use a few more trips to the gym.  And if he had bitten her – the turtle police would have been all over him.  He’d just as soon trade her in for a newer model if anyone would bother to ask him.

I still say that one hundred fifteen years of matrimony is arguably a success – even if they end up divorcing.  I think they really gave it the yeoman’s try.  That said, they should be sure before they begin mediation – take some time, think it through, see if there is anything left to salvage.  You know what they say – love takes time.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love

Lighten Up Tuesday

mimijk

I spoke to my husband for the first time twenty-one years ago today (or yesterday, I’m not the best with dates).  Long story short – I had just stepped on a bee, the boys were running around like Max in his wolf suit times two, dinner was burning and the phone rang.  After explaining that it wasn’t really a great time to talk, he asked what I was doing later in the week.  My response? “Nothing much”  His response?  “I’ll be out-of-town for the rest of the week”.  In my head I was yelling “then why the hell did you just ask me what I was doing all week?”, but I let it slide – my foot was swelling, we clearly weren’t going to get past this conversation and someone, anyone needed to go into time out.

Needless to say we spoke a lot while he was away and upon his return.  We’re coming up on twenty years of marriage – a stunning number to me.  He will tell you that I still have a pair of sneakers in the garage in case I need to run away; I will tell you that he can still tune me out better than anyone I’ve ever known.  We’re both right and we’re both wrong.  He lets me keep the sneakers outside so I feel I have the choice; I don’t press to be listened to unless I really need his attention.  We make each other crazy and we keep each other sane.  At the risk of cliché – we may not light up the sky, but we try to remember that we are here to light each other’s way.  And that’s pretty damn wonderful.   I hope your day is very well-lit and warmed with love  – as corny as that may be.  Happy Tuesday all..