For no particulatr reason today, after a dinner of cereal due to a lunch of french fries, Adam suggested that he would take me to get frozen yogurt if I wanted to go.
Which of course I did. Only a fool would turn down a trip to get frozen yogurt on a random Wednesday night.
I love my husband - only he has the ability to make going to get frozen yogurt - a really simple little routine thing - seem special and romantic.
What I feel like is sometimes missing from this life is an appreciation for little tiny moments like that. In a wordl where we have access to whatever we want pretty much whenever we want, going tog et frozen yogurt is really no big deal. It's not like we couldn't have gone six times today if we wanted to. But the fact that my husband - a practical no-nonsense knda guy at heart - decided on his own that he wanted to talke me out for it, that's what was special.
I guess the point of this story is that in our culture of selfishness and instant gratification, it's sometimes nice to get a little thrill about the simplie things. It's what is special about someone handing you a hanful of daisies picked from the backyard, or a miniature chocolate bar from the office candy jar. It's just the idea that someone besides yourself was thinking about you and what might make you happy. NOw, what is even more imporotant is to remember to return the favor!
Side note: the reason that this post is littlered with typods is because my backspace key is broken and Im' being lazy So now you all know that my exceptionally fast typing skills comes with some serious typo problems. 70% of thoes key sounds when I'm typicng are the backspace key! :-)
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Some Things are True... Others are Not
This is True:
No matter how many years pass and miles separate you, when your childhood best friend delivers her first-born child, your first instinct is to run to be at her side
This is Not True:
Canned green beans are just as good as the fresh kind
This is True:
No matter how certain you are that you know the correct date, it is impossible not to worry that you have missed your mother's birthday
This is Not True:
There is a good time on a Sunday to go grocery shopping.
No matter how many years pass and miles separate you, when your childhood best friend delivers her first-born child, your first instinct is to run to be at her side
This is Not True:
Canned green beans are just as good as the fresh kind
This is True:
No matter how certain you are that you know the correct date, it is impossible not to worry that you have missed your mother's birthday
This is Not True:
There is a good time on a Sunday to go grocery shopping.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
There Was a Time When...
There was a time when...
I was terrified to disappoint my father
I thought I was as grown-up as my mother
I tried to be as rebellious as my brother
There was a time when..
I wanted to grow up to be like my Aunt Barbie
I wanted to smell like my neighbor Mrs. Smith's freshly laundered towels
I wanted to look like Ashley McCabe
There was a time when..
I looked out of place everywhere I went
I wore myself like I was just trying to be someone else
I looked like I hadn't slept in weeks and weeks - and it was rarely worth it
Now....
I realize I could never disappoint my father
I know I'll never be as grown up as my mother
I wish I had rebelled as much as my brother - it would have been such fun
Now...
I still want to be as cool as my Aunt Barbie
I still search for that laundry detergent
Who I look like is no longer relevant
Now...
I am out of place sometimes. It's exciting.
I wear what I like and it feels like me.
I sometimes look like I haven't slept in weeks - and it's always worth it
Now...
I am me.
There will be a time when your self feels wrong, out of place, desperate to be ... other than.
That feeling will pass and, someday, will be replaced by ... Happiness. Acceptance. Selfness.
Wait for it.
I was terrified to disappoint my father
I thought I was as grown-up as my mother
I tried to be as rebellious as my brother
There was a time when..
I wanted to grow up to be like my Aunt Barbie
I wanted to smell like my neighbor Mrs. Smith's freshly laundered towels
I wanted to look like Ashley McCabe
There was a time when..
I looked out of place everywhere I went
I wore myself like I was just trying to be someone else
I looked like I hadn't slept in weeks and weeks - and it was rarely worth it
Now....
I realize I could never disappoint my father
I know I'll never be as grown up as my mother
I wish I had rebelled as much as my brother - it would have been such fun
Now...
I still want to be as cool as my Aunt Barbie
I still search for that laundry detergent
Who I look like is no longer relevant
Now...
I am out of place sometimes. It's exciting.
I wear what I like and it feels like me.
I sometimes look like I haven't slept in weeks - and it's always worth it
Now...
I am me.
There will be a time when your self feels wrong, out of place, desperate to be ... other than.
That feeling will pass and, someday, will be replaced by ... Happiness. Acceptance. Selfness.
Wait for it.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Friend (v.)
Well I just wrote this super-sappy blog about how grateful I am for all the people in my life and all that. And then I deleted it because it sounded like a really really long greeting card. And I'm not int he business of greeting cards. Although perhaps lately I sort of have been - I do sort of feel like this blog has become my place to write about how thankful I am - like my own personal digital Thanksgiving all year long. I could probably make a lot of money for Hallmark.
But after I deleted the post, I still felt like I wanted to make a point. And so here it is. The other day I had this revelation that the word friend should really be more of a verb than a noun. Like, Facebook sort of has it right. People really do friend people. Especially the good people.
Now, I am tempted to go on this very long dialogue about all the awesome people I know who have friended me and my husband over the past few years. But I won't do that, because I have had two glasses of wine. Just remember to friend your friends. That's about it.
But after I deleted the post, I still felt like I wanted to make a point. And so here it is. The other day I had this revelation that the word friend should really be more of a verb than a noun. Like, Facebook sort of has it right. People really do friend people. Especially the good people.
Now, I am tempted to go on this very long dialogue about all the awesome people I know who have friended me and my husband over the past few years. But I won't do that, because I have had two glasses of wine. Just remember to friend your friends. That's about it.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
A Message to the Younger Generation
This is a message that I wish I could write now and send back to myself circa 2000 - a year that was both wonderful and horrible for me, a year about which I feel both regretful and reminiscient.
Occasionally something happens that makes me close my eyes and sigh with the deep appreciation for my life as it is at this very moment in time. Today I had one of those moments, which happen more and more often lately. And today when it happened I realized that I feel remorseful about the way I treated myself in my early 20s and how unhappy I really was. I blame myself. And I don't necessarily think that hindsight would make a difference, because when you're 20 your decision-making abilities are severely compromised by all sorts of factors, not the least of which is probably the copious amount of alcohol you are most likely consuming. But if I could send myself a letter (actually I would probably send a letter once a year until approximately 2007 - so, more to come...) - this is the first one I would send.
**
A few months ago my aunt contacted me to suggest she come visit and of course I said yes. And then I mentioned it to my husband who actually was excited and is looking forward to it. Which is no surprise to me, of course, since she's awesome. This is simply a preface to a story in which I reflect on what complete douchebags I used to spend time with.
This very same Aunt one time took me and several other family members out to dinner at a restaurant at which my boyfriend at the time waited tables. She chose the restaurant on purpose and requested a table in his section on purpose. I can't recall exactly but I imagine it was because I couldn't get him to come to any family related events so we figured we'd take the family to him. And while we were at it we'd give him some business. So anyway we went and had this elaborate dinner at his restaurant, and she paid the bill. And I would never ever question her generosity when it came to the tip, not that I would ever have considered it my business or even thought about it. Until, later that night when I got a phone call from what I can only define as my parody of a boyfriend basically yelling at me about how he had expected more of a tip based on our personal relationship.
I really needn't go any further. Any self-respecting girl would have hung up and went on about her life with complete certainty that she was better off without such a total jerk. For reasons completely outside my realm of understanding, I continued to date this guy. I was mad, dont' get me wrong. I never apologized for the situation because I knew he was being a complete psycho. And yet, even knowing that 100% complete truth, I continued to date him for quite some time afterwards. And I paid for my stupidity 800 times over. Obviously a guy with enough gall to punish his girlfriend for not getting a big enough tip from her family will cheat on her without giving it a second thought. And then actually try to convince her after the fact that he wouldn't have done it if she wouldn't have graduated college a year before him and moved away. And then suggest that the situation could ultimately bring them closer together. Oh yeah.
Oh and by the way, did I mention that in college I once helped write an entire paper for this lunatic, on a subject about which I had zero knowledge, and when he didn't get an A he was mad at me! Yeah! I dated this guy! For a really long time!
So anyway, the moral of this story is that I made some seriously bad choices. And I made myself miserable for many years, during a time of life that was supposed to be fun and free. I suppose that my reward for all that sadness, anger, and frustration is that I was finally able to find clarity and focus, and then meet a nice guy with the true capacity to love and be loved. And for his presence in my life, and for the life we have together, I am eternally grateful.
A lot of people, when recalling their past decisions, say they wouldn't change a thing because their actions made them who they are today. But I have a cousin who is right now in college, the same age I was when I was in the throes of this toxic relationship. And if I were to tell her the details of my early 20s and she were to ask me what I would do if I could go back, I would tell her that I WOULD change some things. I would focus more on my friends and my classes. I would spend more time doing things I wanted to do for myself and less on trying to do things that I thought some guy wanted me to do. I would party just as much, but not with a boyfriend in mind. I would NOT have started smoking. I would appreciate every second of how beautiful and young and carefree I was and stop worrying about whether or not I was going to make anyone jealous by being confident and happy. I didn't enjoy my early 20s the way I should have, because I was too insecure and that stopped me from doing what I really wanted to do. And, looking back - I had nothing to be insecure about!
And that is my message to my dear cousin - not that she needs it, not that she asked for it - and to the rest of the late teens and 20-something women out there, and to myself back then, and to my friends back then ... YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE INSECURE ABOUT. And if anyone makes you feel like you do, get rid of them. As the saying goes - "Be Yourself and Say What You Think, because the People who Mind Don't Matter and the People who Matter Won't Mind." One day you will wake up, you will be 32 years old. You will look a little older and a little softer than you did in your early 20s. You may have a job or a child or a husband; you will definitely have responsibilities and a path that has taken on a life of its own. Gone will be the days where backpacking across the world is a viable option; perhaps even the days where you feel comfortable wearing a bikini in public will be gone. And you will wonder to yourself if you appreciated your early adulthood and all the sheer possibilities that came with it as much as possible; you will wonder if you treated your body and soul the way it deserved to be treated. And I sincerely hope that your answer to yourself will be that YES, you did.
Occasionally something happens that makes me close my eyes and sigh with the deep appreciation for my life as it is at this very moment in time. Today I had one of those moments, which happen more and more often lately. And today when it happened I realized that I feel remorseful about the way I treated myself in my early 20s and how unhappy I really was. I blame myself. And I don't necessarily think that hindsight would make a difference, because when you're 20 your decision-making abilities are severely compromised by all sorts of factors, not the least of which is probably the copious amount of alcohol you are most likely consuming. But if I could send myself a letter (actually I would probably send a letter once a year until approximately 2007 - so, more to come...) - this is the first one I would send.
**
A few months ago my aunt contacted me to suggest she come visit and of course I said yes. And then I mentioned it to my husband who actually was excited and is looking forward to it. Which is no surprise to me, of course, since she's awesome. This is simply a preface to a story in which I reflect on what complete douchebags I used to spend time with.
This very same Aunt one time took me and several other family members out to dinner at a restaurant at which my boyfriend at the time waited tables. She chose the restaurant on purpose and requested a table in his section on purpose. I can't recall exactly but I imagine it was because I couldn't get him to come to any family related events so we figured we'd take the family to him. And while we were at it we'd give him some business. So anyway we went and had this elaborate dinner at his restaurant, and she paid the bill. And I would never ever question her generosity when it came to the tip, not that I would ever have considered it my business or even thought about it. Until, later that night when I got a phone call from what I can only define as my parody of a boyfriend basically yelling at me about how he had expected more of a tip based on our personal relationship.
I really needn't go any further. Any self-respecting girl would have hung up and went on about her life with complete certainty that she was better off without such a total jerk. For reasons completely outside my realm of understanding, I continued to date this guy. I was mad, dont' get me wrong. I never apologized for the situation because I knew he was being a complete psycho. And yet, even knowing that 100% complete truth, I continued to date him for quite some time afterwards. And I paid for my stupidity 800 times over. Obviously a guy with enough gall to punish his girlfriend for not getting a big enough tip from her family will cheat on her without giving it a second thought. And then actually try to convince her after the fact that he wouldn't have done it if she wouldn't have graduated college a year before him and moved away. And then suggest that the situation could ultimately bring them closer together. Oh yeah.
Oh and by the way, did I mention that in college I once helped write an entire paper for this lunatic, on a subject about which I had zero knowledge, and when he didn't get an A he was mad at me! Yeah! I dated this guy! For a really long time!
So anyway, the moral of this story is that I made some seriously bad choices. And I made myself miserable for many years, during a time of life that was supposed to be fun and free. I suppose that my reward for all that sadness, anger, and frustration is that I was finally able to find clarity and focus, and then meet a nice guy with the true capacity to love and be loved. And for his presence in my life, and for the life we have together, I am eternally grateful.
A lot of people, when recalling their past decisions, say they wouldn't change a thing because their actions made them who they are today. But I have a cousin who is right now in college, the same age I was when I was in the throes of this toxic relationship. And if I were to tell her the details of my early 20s and she were to ask me what I would do if I could go back, I would tell her that I WOULD change some things. I would focus more on my friends and my classes. I would spend more time doing things I wanted to do for myself and less on trying to do things that I thought some guy wanted me to do. I would party just as much, but not with a boyfriend in mind. I would NOT have started smoking. I would appreciate every second of how beautiful and young and carefree I was and stop worrying about whether or not I was going to make anyone jealous by being confident and happy. I didn't enjoy my early 20s the way I should have, because I was too insecure and that stopped me from doing what I really wanted to do. And, looking back - I had nothing to be insecure about!
And that is my message to my dear cousin - not that she needs it, not that she asked for it - and to the rest of the late teens and 20-something women out there, and to myself back then, and to my friends back then ... YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE INSECURE ABOUT. And if anyone makes you feel like you do, get rid of them. As the saying goes - "Be Yourself and Say What You Think, because the People who Mind Don't Matter and the People who Matter Won't Mind." One day you will wake up, you will be 32 years old. You will look a little older and a little softer than you did in your early 20s. You may have a job or a child or a husband; you will definitely have responsibilities and a path that has taken on a life of its own. Gone will be the days where backpacking across the world is a viable option; perhaps even the days where you feel comfortable wearing a bikini in public will be gone. And you will wonder to yourself if you appreciated your early adulthood and all the sheer possibilities that came with it as much as possible; you will wonder if you treated your body and soul the way it deserved to be treated. And I sincerely hope that your answer to yourself will be that YES, you did.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
The Latest in a Long Line of People Being Assholes.
So I am at the end of my rope, and Adam is close. Why can't people, normal people who have jobs and homes and raise families and do grocery shopping, just learn to live amongst OTHER PEOPLE WITHOUT BEING TOTAL EFFING ASSHOLES?
Earlier this week a co-worker was verbally attacked at a meeting and almost no one even raised an eyebrow. It was all I could do not to jump across the table, sliding vaseline across my lips and pulling my hair into a ponytail on the way there (a la Jess Savidge outside of The Rat one night in college). (Not really!)
More shocking, to me, than the fact that said attacker couldn't just keep their big yapper shut and NOT insult someone was the fact that it appeared to be completely acceptable to the 15 other people in the room. This is not to say that person didn't get a talking to later on, but I seriously doubt it. This was followed by several bouts of "interrupt-itis" as I like to call it, where one person tries to get a point across and is quickly cut off and talked over by someone else in the room. The original talker practically has to beg to be allowed to complete her sentence. It happens all the time and, as I said at the beginning of this post, I am coming to the end of my rope. MAYBE I work in the rudest workplace ever, but I don't think so. I think this is just status quo, and that makes me sad.
So Adam and I manage to get through the week without having our spirits totally crushed; then we come home for the weekend and believe that we are safe in our haven of polite behavior and happiness. Anyone who knows me and Adam knows we live a peaceful and quiet existence. We get along with people. We go out of our way to help our elderly neighbor. Early today I chaesd down her nasty little dog who had gotten out of her yard, almost got bit like three times, and still managed to get that mutt back home in one piece without kicking it. We are nice people. We believe that being nice to other people will result in the sort of reciprocative behavior that we would like, in other words we expect that those around us will be nice to us as well.
Earlier this year Adam and a few other guys in the neighborhood spent a solid 48 hours on a weekend replacing a water line in our neighborhood. The line goes through our yard and crosses the street. There are two valve boxes, one in the middle of our yard and one by the street. The one in the middle of the yard goes to our house. The one by the street goes to everyone else's house. People drive dangerously close to that one. We sent a letter explaining the problem. That didn't help. So for awhile we had a PVC pipe marking it. "Someone" stole it. So we put a paint bucket by it. Today I was planting tomato plants (different story) and our neighbor drove up, stopped by the bucket, sat there a minute, then drove up and stopped by the drive way and got out of her car to approach me. She demanded if we were going to move the valve. I said I didn't know. She said the "buckets and pipes" are a nuisance. I sent her to Adam. She proceeded to yell at Adam about where our property boundary ends. She insisted the actual road goes through our yard. Fine, he said. Have the county come out and re-do the road. She didn't like that option, almost certainly because it would require some sort of effort on her part, without any bit of instant gratification. Anyway, the point of this post is that she came up in MY YARD and tried to bully us into God knows what - I'm not sure what she thought she was going to accomplish. It's not like we were going to say okay, great, just drive through our yard wherever you believe the actual road is supposed to be. Like any normal person, we're perfectly willing to have a conversation. But this is the first time anyone has even approached us about how we have our yard laid out, yet apparently it was cause for combativeness. I just don't understand it.
I have to admit that I am so GOSH DARN tired of people thinking they can just come around and bitch and yell and just in general be jerks. This is not normal behavior! And it makes me mad because Adam tries so hard to be a nice guy. Later today, I told him to move that damn bucket. People can drive over the valve all day long and when the water line breaks no one else in the neighborhood will have water. They were warned to drive carefully. I know, because we sent a letter. Well he couldn't do it. Because he was worried about everyone not having water. Because he is a NICE PERSON, not an ASSHOLE.
When do nice people become crotchety old people? At what age does the crushing reality of the world finally sink into the hearts of the good people and blacken their souls? Each and every day I feel less like being a nice person and more like being a bitch. With each trip to the grocery store, to Home Depot, to the mall - I feel a deeper urge to let a door close in another person's face or to bypass a tipped over potted plant without righting it. I am about one person cutting me off on the highway away from never using my blinker ever again.
The moral of this story: Almost everyone has a neighbor. If you are reading this, try to think of your neighbors as your partners in property ownership. They can help you! You just have to be a nice person!!
Earlier this week a co-worker was verbally attacked at a meeting and almost no one even raised an eyebrow. It was all I could do not to jump across the table, sliding vaseline across my lips and pulling my hair into a ponytail on the way there (a la Jess Savidge outside of The Rat one night in college). (Not really!)
More shocking, to me, than the fact that said attacker couldn't just keep their big yapper shut and NOT insult someone was the fact that it appeared to be completely acceptable to the 15 other people in the room. This is not to say that person didn't get a talking to later on, but I seriously doubt it. This was followed by several bouts of "interrupt-itis" as I like to call it, where one person tries to get a point across and is quickly cut off and talked over by someone else in the room. The original talker practically has to beg to be allowed to complete her sentence. It happens all the time and, as I said at the beginning of this post, I am coming to the end of my rope. MAYBE I work in the rudest workplace ever, but I don't think so. I think this is just status quo, and that makes me sad.
So Adam and I manage to get through the week without having our spirits totally crushed; then we come home for the weekend and believe that we are safe in our haven of polite behavior and happiness. Anyone who knows me and Adam knows we live a peaceful and quiet existence. We get along with people. We go out of our way to help our elderly neighbor. Early today I chaesd down her nasty little dog who had gotten out of her yard, almost got bit like three times, and still managed to get that mutt back home in one piece without kicking it. We are nice people. We believe that being nice to other people will result in the sort of reciprocative behavior that we would like, in other words we expect that those around us will be nice to us as well.
Earlier this year Adam and a few other guys in the neighborhood spent a solid 48 hours on a weekend replacing a water line in our neighborhood. The line goes through our yard and crosses the street. There are two valve boxes, one in the middle of our yard and one by the street. The one in the middle of the yard goes to our house. The one by the street goes to everyone else's house. People drive dangerously close to that one. We sent a letter explaining the problem. That didn't help. So for awhile we had a PVC pipe marking it. "Someone" stole it. So we put a paint bucket by it. Today I was planting tomato plants (different story) and our neighbor drove up, stopped by the bucket, sat there a minute, then drove up and stopped by the drive way and got out of her car to approach me. She demanded if we were going to move the valve. I said I didn't know. She said the "buckets and pipes" are a nuisance. I sent her to Adam. She proceeded to yell at Adam about where our property boundary ends. She insisted the actual road goes through our yard. Fine, he said. Have the county come out and re-do the road. She didn't like that option, almost certainly because it would require some sort of effort on her part, without any bit of instant gratification. Anyway, the point of this post is that she came up in MY YARD and tried to bully us into God knows what - I'm not sure what she thought she was going to accomplish. It's not like we were going to say okay, great, just drive through our yard wherever you believe the actual road is supposed to be. Like any normal person, we're perfectly willing to have a conversation. But this is the first time anyone has even approached us about how we have our yard laid out, yet apparently it was cause for combativeness. I just don't understand it.
I have to admit that I am so GOSH DARN tired of people thinking they can just come around and bitch and yell and just in general be jerks. This is not normal behavior! And it makes me mad because Adam tries so hard to be a nice guy. Later today, I told him to move that damn bucket. People can drive over the valve all day long and when the water line breaks no one else in the neighborhood will have water. They were warned to drive carefully. I know, because we sent a letter. Well he couldn't do it. Because he was worried about everyone not having water. Because he is a NICE PERSON, not an ASSHOLE.
When do nice people become crotchety old people? At what age does the crushing reality of the world finally sink into the hearts of the good people and blacken their souls? Each and every day I feel less like being a nice person and more like being a bitch. With each trip to the grocery store, to Home Depot, to the mall - I feel a deeper urge to let a door close in another person's face or to bypass a tipped over potted plant without righting it. I am about one person cutting me off on the highway away from never using my blinker ever again.
The moral of this story: Almost everyone has a neighbor. If you are reading this, try to think of your neighbors as your partners in property ownership. They can help you! You just have to be a nice person!!
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Buying America: Hair Fail
On Sunday I went to HEB and browsed through the hair product aisle and, without even thinking, picked up a hair curler and put it in my basket. Then I went about the rest of my shopping being very diligent about choosing only American-made items. I put nail polish back because it wasn't made in America (really, we can't make our own NAIL POLISH?). I picked out the horrifically ugly air freshener instead of the pretty ones because the ugly one was the only one made in America... of course.
I chose American strawberries, and so on and so forth. You all already know the deal with the food.
It was not until I got home and unpacked that I realized I had bought a Chinese-made hair curler.
Part of the problem was I was moving really slowly on Sunday because my friends made me go to this rock concert and do Irish Car Bombs on Saturday night, even though I really insisted on not being a part of their bad decision-making.
However, I suspect there is more to it. You see, I have wanted to try that hair curler for quite some time. It's the one that has three barrels and is supposed to wave your hair instead of curl it. Probably I subconsciously chose to avoid checking to see if it was made in America, which any of us would have not even needed to do really. Obviously anything with a cord is made in China.
The worst part is that it is a horrible instrument! I tried it out (probably should have returned it?) - and I looked like a bad 80s movie! It didn't curl my hair, it crimped it! So that is what I get I guess.
Also if anyone wants a Chinese-made hair-waver/crimper/torture instrument, I have one available for free. If not, I plan to use it once a year on Halloween.
Philosophical Question - if I buy an Irish Car Bomb at a bar in America - does it count as buying American-made or not?
I chose American strawberries, and so on and so forth. You all already know the deal with the food.
It was not until I got home and unpacked that I realized I had bought a Chinese-made hair curler.
Part of the problem was I was moving really slowly on Sunday because my friends made me go to this rock concert and do Irish Car Bombs on Saturday night, even though I really insisted on not being a part of their bad decision-making.
However, I suspect there is more to it. You see, I have wanted to try that hair curler for quite some time. It's the one that has three barrels and is supposed to wave your hair instead of curl it. Probably I subconsciously chose to avoid checking to see if it was made in America, which any of us would have not even needed to do really. Obviously anything with a cord is made in China.
The worst part is that it is a horrible instrument! I tried it out (probably should have returned it?) - and I looked like a bad 80s movie! It didn't curl my hair, it crimped it! So that is what I get I guess.
Also if anyone wants a Chinese-made hair-waver/crimper/torture instrument, I have one available for free. If not, I plan to use it once a year on Halloween.
Philosophical Question - if I buy an Irish Car Bomb at a bar in America - does it count as buying American-made or not?
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