Last year for the first time in my 30 years, I spent Christmas on my own alone—yep, just me and my plants hanging out. I talked to my family on the phone for a few minutes, watched a couple of favorite movies and ate one of my favorite foods—fried chicken! It was a great day! I had no stress, no worries. I had peace and quiet and amused myself. It was all good to me.
But to some of my family and friends, my independence and decision to stay home alone on Christmas Day spelled trouble:
Is she depressed?
Is she suicidal?
Was this really just a desperate cry for help?
Did someone need to intervene?
[Nope. None of the above.]
Then there were the other questions:
Is she secretly dating someone?
Is there a guy staying at her place?
[Alas, no, but don't I wish…]
Somehow by choosing to remain on my own on Christmas Day, I scared people. They seemed to think that something had to be wrong because I chose solitude.
Ah, but nothing was wrong. I wasn’t going crazy or losing my edge. I wasn’t cutting myself with a knife or sobbing hysterically. There was no crime or heinous act being committed. I was simply enjoying the day on my own. [GASP!]
Since becoming an adult, I’ve been like a window shopper at Christmas. I’m peering through the glass at others’ celebrations, but I’m not an active participant myself. I’ve spent past Christmases watching my nieces and nephews open gifts, and it’s been marvelous to watch their eyes light up with sheer delight at what was inside each package. I’ve hung out with other friends for a large family style dinner, and I’ve felt blessed to be right where I was at that time. But while everyone always does their best to make me feel welcome at their holiday celebrations, I always feel like something is missing. IT IS. I’m the one who’s missing. I’m not celebrating. I’m observing.
I want to have my own Christmas traditions—special moments that entirely belong to me (and maybe my family of 10 houseplants). I can’t help but wish for something more personal that belongs to me—for my own way of celebrating the day that the Savior of the world was born! I don’t feel that the holiday is any less simply because I spend it on my own.
And this Christmas, I’m feeling more of the same. I’ve spent days and weeks leading up to the holidays with lots of friends and family. We’ve watched Christmas movies together, we’ve spent a day baking Christmas cookies, we’ve had gift exchanges and attended holiday parties, and we’ve shopped till we’ve dropped. So now, I’m ready to celebrate…on my own!
This holiday season, for the first time, I’m planning to attend one of the Christmas Eve services at my church. I’ve heard that it’s a very special service, and I’m looking forward to it with great anticipation. So I’ve got my own plans on Christmas Eve now.
And after that? I don’t know yet. I haven’t made any definite plans. I’m sure I’ll make the trip North to spend time with my sister and her family. I wouldn’t miss that for the world. And closer to the New Year, my parents and 4 siblings and their families will all get together and exchange gifts and have a meal together at my brother’s house. It will be a fun-filled, busy day of gifts, games and food. Highly enjoyable!
Yes, I’m looking forward to celebrating Christmas this year. Alone or with family and friends, I won’t be lonely! It will all be good...
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Monday, December 19, 2005
Cookie Time!
There are moments of pure delight with my nephew Jacob that make me forget any of my current worries or problems and just remind me again of the simple amazements that make life a blessing! I visited him and his family this weekend and together, we made and decorated lots of cookies. He totally got into rolling out the sugar cookie dough and making the cut-outs, and then when it came to frosting them, he had his own unique style. I could have sat there and watched him all day as he savored each moment.
I think sometimes we forget the simple joys, the childhood delights...but when we see them again in the face of another 3-year-old, it rekindles again some of those old feelings. Life is good!
Wednesday, December 7, 2005
My Own Personal Snow Globe
I’m totally thrilled it’s winter. I don’t enjoy driving in snow or on ice. I can do without that, thank you very much. But I do love the colder temps and seeing my breath when I walk outside. It’s sweater weather, turtleneck season, hot cocoa time. There is something magical about winter. I just caught myself staring out the window here at work, just watching the snowflakes whimsically dance along as they drift downward.
It reminds me of 20 years ago when I loved tramping around outside in the snow and staying outdoors in just about kind of weather. There my sister and I would stay all day when we could. We’d bundle up and go sledding in the ditch. Our ditch was our own private kingdom. It was a small city-owned drainage ditch that ran along our property, and we loved to explore it. There was a creek at the bottom, of course, and so we’d slide down into the ditch and break the ice in the small creek or attempt to cross the icy terrain.
And of course, playing outside is always better when you have a vivid imagination, and the Bradley sisters always had that! One day we’d be Indiana Jones exploring a frozen jungle, and then next day we’d be the next greatest figure skater as we glided along the ice in our moon boots. We’d stay out in the cold until we’d hear “Mel-anie! Barb-bra!” echoing across the neighborhood as my Mom would call us home for dinner from our own back door. That was a bit embarrassing at the time, but it’s a rather fond memory now.
Four years in South Carolina didn’t change this Midwestern girl. I still like having a real winter and enjoying 4 distinct seasons. Yes, as an adult, snow now requires more work, but I am still quite content with winter. And somewhere deep inside me there is still a little girl just dying to head back home to Michigan and go exploring through the snow-covered ditch again.
It reminds me of 20 years ago when I loved tramping around outside in the snow and staying outdoors in just about kind of weather. There my sister and I would stay all day when we could. We’d bundle up and go sledding in the ditch. Our ditch was our own private kingdom. It was a small city-owned drainage ditch that ran along our property, and we loved to explore it. There was a creek at the bottom, of course, and so we’d slide down into the ditch and break the ice in the small creek or attempt to cross the icy terrain.
And of course, playing outside is always better when you have a vivid imagination, and the Bradley sisters always had that! One day we’d be Indiana Jones exploring a frozen jungle, and then next day we’d be the next greatest figure skater as we glided along the ice in our moon boots. We’d stay out in the cold until we’d hear “Mel-anie! Barb-bra!” echoing across the neighborhood as my Mom would call us home for dinner from our own back door. That was a bit embarrassing at the time, but it’s a rather fond memory now.
Four years in South Carolina didn’t change this Midwestern girl. I still like having a real winter and enjoying 4 distinct seasons. Yes, as an adult, snow now requires more work, but I am still quite content with winter. And somewhere deep inside me there is still a little girl just dying to head back home to Michigan and go exploring through the snow-covered ditch again.
Monday, December 5, 2005
Every year it’s the same...
I languish long and hard over what to put into my Christmas newsletter, better known as Mel’s Monologue. Do I include this or that? Do I pretend that all is rosy or do I go with gutsy honesty? How should my tone read—sanguine or sarcastic? Who will my letter offend this year? Such worthy dilemmas…
The truth is that I don’t consider my life all that significant to anyone else other than myself. I mean, I’m happy I’m alive and still kicking. I like my life personally, and I find it exciting enough for me. It's a full life to me, but I wonder what is worth sharing each year with others. And it all comes back to comparison. In comparison to the lives of those around me, I think my life must appear to be rather dull and not worth reading about…
I didn’t buy a house this year or make a big move. I’m still living in my one-bedroom apartment—killing every spider or bug I find. But you know what—I love my apartment. It’s just right for me. So what that I’ve been here for 5 years now! This is home!
No big news this year about my having a baby (miraculous conception indeed) or finding myself a man! Yeah, the baby really would be more than a surprise! And OK, so John Cusack is the only man I’ve been seeing of late. But that’s just because I’ve been re-watching all of his movies and once again loving his ability to play quirky characters and wondering where are all the good men gone…
I spent a lot of my time on my own this year at home (in my one-bedroom apartment). I opted to pull out of a singles group at my church that seemed to be dying off and decided to back off some other social activities as well. I wouldn’t quite say I am a total recluse yet, but I’m definitely enjoying life alone. But I did add myself back as a volunteer at the IMA, one of my favorite places in the city, and so that should be another point in my favor. OK, so I still watch a lot of movies and read a lot of books and write a lot—all on my own. But if I’m happy and content with the way things are, who am I hurting? Am I supposed to pretend that there is more to life than what GOD has already given me? YEAH! I’m done with that. This is as good as it gets for me…at this time. I'm not complaining, and so why should anyone else complain about it?
I’ve made lots of cards and scrapbooked a great deal this year. Truth is that I probably made well over 500 cards this year, and I’ve loved it. I’ve given lots of them away, and that’s part of the joy of making them. And as for scrapbooking, I still have my own personal style. I’m not into fluffy or pretty scrapbooking. For me it’s still about the story behind each picture and not the pretty paper or specialty items to coordinate the scene. It’s still about the story behind each smile…
And so as I start to compose yet another newsletter, I smile a wry smile and savor the delights of being alive. [JUST BREATHE!!!] Yes, this is enough… Maybe it's not enough in the mind of someone else, but my CREATOR and I are the only ones that it should matter to. They have their own lives. GOD gave me this one. I'm grateful, and I'm sticking to it.
The truth is that I don’t consider my life all that significant to anyone else other than myself. I mean, I’m happy I’m alive and still kicking. I like my life personally, and I find it exciting enough for me. It's a full life to me, but I wonder what is worth sharing each year with others. And it all comes back to comparison. In comparison to the lives of those around me, I think my life must appear to be rather dull and not worth reading about…
I didn’t buy a house this year or make a big move. I’m still living in my one-bedroom apartment—killing every spider or bug I find. But you know what—I love my apartment. It’s just right for me. So what that I’ve been here for 5 years now! This is home!
No big news this year about my having a baby (miraculous conception indeed) or finding myself a man! Yeah, the baby really would be more than a surprise! And OK, so John Cusack is the only man I’ve been seeing of late. But that’s just because I’ve been re-watching all of his movies and once again loving his ability to play quirky characters and wondering where are all the good men gone…
I spent a lot of my time on my own this year at home (in my one-bedroom apartment). I opted to pull out of a singles group at my church that seemed to be dying off and decided to back off some other social activities as well. I wouldn’t quite say I am a total recluse yet, but I’m definitely enjoying life alone. But I did add myself back as a volunteer at the IMA, one of my favorite places in the city, and so that should be another point in my favor. OK, so I still watch a lot of movies and read a lot of books and write a lot—all on my own. But if I’m happy and content with the way things are, who am I hurting? Am I supposed to pretend that there is more to life than what GOD has already given me? YEAH! I’m done with that. This is as good as it gets for me…at this time. I'm not complaining, and so why should anyone else complain about it?
I’ve made lots of cards and scrapbooked a great deal this year. Truth is that I probably made well over 500 cards this year, and I’ve loved it. I’ve given lots of them away, and that’s part of the joy of making them. And as for scrapbooking, I still have my own personal style. I’m not into fluffy or pretty scrapbooking. For me it’s still about the story behind each picture and not the pretty paper or specialty items to coordinate the scene. It’s still about the story behind each smile…
And so as I start to compose yet another newsletter, I smile a wry smile and savor the delights of being alive. [JUST BREATHE!!!] Yes, this is enough… Maybe it's not enough in the mind of someone else, but my CREATOR and I are the only ones that it should matter to. They have their own lives. GOD gave me this one. I'm grateful, and I'm sticking to it.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
I love Thanksgiving...
It’s just the best holiday ever—-delicious food and favorite family recipes, splendid time playing board games and boundless laughter, high-handed schemes and faulty attempts to hide the TV remote just to annoy my football-obsessed elder brothers, etc. Ahhh! What could be better!
Normally, my Mom and I bundle up my nieces and nephews after our delightful lunch and brave snow, hail or wind all for the 3-block walk from our family home to the village library. Here in this small Midwestern town, the city yearly maintains a life-sized manger scene complete with Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, shepherds, the wisemen, and farm animals. There we enjoy a visit with Baby Jesus, and I utilize my own paparazzi-like skills to take as many pictures as possible to capture these fleeting moments of whimsy. I try to suppress my laughter as one niece gives Joseph a kiss, and another sizes a shepherd up to see if she has grown taller than he this year. My nephews climb all over the animals and pose for funny shots as they straddle a camel or cow.
Next we march over to the Croswell Swinging Bridge, the 2nd stop on our annual pilgrimage. I usually bolt across the suspension bridge chasing after my 2 eldest nephews, while my Mom lags behind a bit and manages to hold the hands of my younger nieces and nephews as they timidly cross the wooden bridge—trying not to look down at the muddy waters below.
The playground near the bridge is always a highlight of our visit. The kids scramble up and down, in and out of the various amusements. My Mom tirelessly pushes a couple of her grandchildren on the swings while I keep an eye on the others and attempt to keep them from hurting each other and themselves.
Afterwards, we trudge back through the elements homeward bound, ready to return indoors and enjoy some hot chocolate and other treats. It’s truly an enjoyable experience, and one I do look forward to every year. What fine memories we have made!
This year, we’re not going home to Michigan for Thanksgiving. We won’t have our traditional walk to look forward to this season, but I am confident that we’ll have new delights to revel in. We’ll still have most of the family together in one house, and so that’s a blessing! We’ll still enjoy some family game time, and I have no doubt there will be plenty of photo opportunities as well.
Yes, I’m anticipating another fine holiday season…
Normally, my Mom and I bundle up my nieces and nephews after our delightful lunch and brave snow, hail or wind all for the 3-block walk from our family home to the village library. Here in this small Midwestern town, the city yearly maintains a life-sized manger scene complete with Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, shepherds, the wisemen, and farm animals. There we enjoy a visit with Baby Jesus, and I utilize my own paparazzi-like skills to take as many pictures as possible to capture these fleeting moments of whimsy. I try to suppress my laughter as one niece gives Joseph a kiss, and another sizes a shepherd up to see if she has grown taller than he this year. My nephews climb all over the animals and pose for funny shots as they straddle a camel or cow.
Next we march over to the Croswell Swinging Bridge, the 2nd stop on our annual pilgrimage. I usually bolt across the suspension bridge chasing after my 2 eldest nephews, while my Mom lags behind a bit and manages to hold the hands of my younger nieces and nephews as they timidly cross the wooden bridge—trying not to look down at the muddy waters below.
The playground near the bridge is always a highlight of our visit. The kids scramble up and down, in and out of the various amusements. My Mom tirelessly pushes a couple of her grandchildren on the swings while I keep an eye on the others and attempt to keep them from hurting each other and themselves.
Afterwards, we trudge back through the elements homeward bound, ready to return indoors and enjoy some hot chocolate and other treats. It’s truly an enjoyable experience, and one I do look forward to every year. What fine memories we have made!
This year, we’re not going home to Michigan for Thanksgiving. We won’t have our traditional walk to look forward to this season, but I am confident that we’ll have new delights to revel in. We’ll still have most of the family together in one house, and so that’s a blessing! We’ll still enjoy some family game time, and I have no doubt there will be plenty of photo opportunities as well.
Yes, I’m anticipating another fine holiday season…
Friday, November 11, 2005
There is something about Jane Austen that makes me long for England...
The English countryside has always been my favorite future destination for as long as I can remember. I picture myself meandering along the green hills and keenly admiring the estate homes and gardens…camera in hand, of course.
My sister has more than once reminded me that the England of movies is far from the England that tourists encounter, and that perhaps my visit to England is best left to my romantic impressions from literature and my vivid imagination.
After all…
1. There won’t be any swashbuckling gentleman vowing for my hand in marriage or escorting me to wonderful parties. This is really a shame, need I say more. But then I too like Jane have stayed single because I have yet to meet my own beloved Captain Wentworth or the ever-elusive Mr. Darcy.
2. I won’t be found waltzing along a ballroom floor. We all know this girl can’t dance. I have no rhythm—just ask my sister, who became my own personal metronome when I was learning to play the piano. And as for my dance moves, I’ve watched myself in the mirror, and it’s not a pretty sight. Picture the moves of The Egyptian, The Robot and The Funky Chicken all rolled into one grotesque scene. Rather tragic in of itself.
3. I can’t elegantly cantor across the countryside on a horse. I don’t resemble anything slightly elegant on a horse, and I don’t sit nicely in the saddle. (Actually, I’m not sure what that means, but I know I don’t qualify.) My horse riding abilities are rather limited, to say the least, and I usually end up practically strangling the horse by my tight grip on the reins. I’m far too engrossed in my mere survival astride this massive beast to consider my posture or “seat.”
4. My walks across the countryside would be more than slightly inhibited by the fact that I am completely out of shape. I would certainly not keep up with Lizzie and her delightful daily romps at Rosings Park. Yes, I think Lizzie would have to abandon me along the path after about 3 miles as I suffered yet another near fatal asthma attack brought on by far too many carbohydrates in my 31 years and my lack of regular exercise. I’d be winded and wheezing—a pathetic sight indeed.
5. And then there’s the idea that everyone seems to state—doesn’t it rain a lot in England? Maybe so, but the sun does shine sometimes—even in England, right? I’m convinced it does, and so while I’m cooped up indoors awaiting more pleasant weather for touring the countryside, I can re-read my favorite parts of Jane Austen’s books and be struck anew with the freshness and vitality of her words 200 years since she wrote them.
Maybe not today, tomorrow or even next year, but someday I plan to take that trip to England. Until then, I can revel in the magic of British literature, television, theatre and movies so accessible to me. And tonight I will get to see the newest rendition of Pride and Prejudice on the big screen. [SIGH!] Happy thought indeed…
My sister has more than once reminded me that the England of movies is far from the England that tourists encounter, and that perhaps my visit to England is best left to my romantic impressions from literature and my vivid imagination.
After all…
1. There won’t be any swashbuckling gentleman vowing for my hand in marriage or escorting me to wonderful parties. This is really a shame, need I say more. But then I too like Jane have stayed single because I have yet to meet my own beloved Captain Wentworth or the ever-elusive Mr. Darcy.
2. I won’t be found waltzing along a ballroom floor. We all know this girl can’t dance. I have no rhythm—just ask my sister, who became my own personal metronome when I was learning to play the piano. And as for my dance moves, I’ve watched myself in the mirror, and it’s not a pretty sight. Picture the moves of The Egyptian, The Robot and The Funky Chicken all rolled into one grotesque scene. Rather tragic in of itself.
3. I can’t elegantly cantor across the countryside on a horse. I don’t resemble anything slightly elegant on a horse, and I don’t sit nicely in the saddle. (Actually, I’m not sure what that means, but I know I don’t qualify.) My horse riding abilities are rather limited, to say the least, and I usually end up practically strangling the horse by my tight grip on the reins. I’m far too engrossed in my mere survival astride this massive beast to consider my posture or “seat.”
4. My walks across the countryside would be more than slightly inhibited by the fact that I am completely out of shape. I would certainly not keep up with Lizzie and her delightful daily romps at Rosings Park. Yes, I think Lizzie would have to abandon me along the path after about 3 miles as I suffered yet another near fatal asthma attack brought on by far too many carbohydrates in my 31 years and my lack of regular exercise. I’d be winded and wheezing—a pathetic sight indeed.
5. And then there’s the idea that everyone seems to state—doesn’t it rain a lot in England? Maybe so, but the sun does shine sometimes—even in England, right? I’m convinced it does, and so while I’m cooped up indoors awaiting more pleasant weather for touring the countryside, I can re-read my favorite parts of Jane Austen’s books and be struck anew with the freshness and vitality of her words 200 years since she wrote them.
Maybe not today, tomorrow or even next year, but someday I plan to take that trip to England. Until then, I can revel in the magic of British literature, television, theatre and movies so accessible to me. And tonight I will get to see the newest rendition of Pride and Prejudice on the big screen. [SIGH!] Happy thought indeed…
Wednesday, November 2, 2005
Crushing and Dreaming...
I’ve had a slight crush on the single guy in a Christian musical group for a while now. This group visits my church yearly, and so I’ve become a bit of a fan. I think the crush really started when I checked out their website, and his profile cracked me up. He was able to laugh at himself and use sarcasm well, and that’s a huge positive in my book. Plus there was the music factor. Not only does he sing in the group—he is the main musician. He plays the piano extraordinarily well and also works the keyboards, etc. So needless to say, he’s very talented.
Well, this past weekend was their annual visit to my church. And this time, the group had some news about the single guy’s marital status. He had recently gotten engaged. I was happy for him and even happier for the girl now sporting a ring, but I’d be lying if I denied the little inward sighing on my part. Now this crush, like almost all of my crushes of the past was just that—a crush. This was no burgeoning romance, no broken heart, no tears or resentment.
As I drove home that night from the concert, I started laughing at myself. What was that sigh for? It wasn’t like I had thought of him more than twice in the past year. How would my life be different now that I knew he was engaged? It wouldn’t be. Would there be anything missing from my life? No. It wasn’t as if we’d been corresponding or communicating in anyway. We’re strangers to one another.
Fact is I’m a chronic dreamer, and I tend to imagine even after a brief meeting what it would be like to get to know someone better. A random act of kindness or a chance encounter has me pondering the what-ifs for hours. Spending an hour in conversation with someone I find mentally stimulating has me curiously distracted as I contemplate how to arrange a second meeting. More than once or twice A WEEK, I contemplate what life would be life with that man, this other man or that guy over there.
I’m fickle. There is no consistency in my day dreams. It’s not that all of these men are blonde or tall. There’s no special attribute that all of these men have in common really either—with the exception that there was something about them that intrigued me.
Well, this past Sunday night as I drove home after the concert, there was one thing that I realized about my day dreams that I think is harmful. This musician I thought rather remarkable has a life on the road probably 40 out of 52 weeks a year. I was imagining how fun it would be to travel on tour with the group. Well, the truth is that one of us is home 40 out of 52 weekends in a year, and while touring might have some glamorous appeal, I’d probably prefer to be home in my own space rather than on a cramped tour bus any day. I’m not the type of person that would want to be put on the spot or brought out from the shadows on display as the group traveled from church to church either. I’m a behind the scenes person. I wouldn't like life on the road, and I'd definitely not be a trophy wife.
And what about all the others I’ve daydreamed about in the past? The same is true. See, I tend to imagine my life in their world as if a relationship was a way to escape my own world. I’ve been picturing me in their lives, but I can’t really imagine them in mine, which is rather ironic. It seems to me that THAT would be something that would need to be a match! What is so wrong with my own life that I feel I need to move on to another life rather than looking for someone to share the life that I’m living?
Something is wrong with that picture…
Well, this past weekend was their annual visit to my church. And this time, the group had some news about the single guy’s marital status. He had recently gotten engaged. I was happy for him and even happier for the girl now sporting a ring, but I’d be lying if I denied the little inward sighing on my part. Now this crush, like almost all of my crushes of the past was just that—a crush. This was no burgeoning romance, no broken heart, no tears or resentment.
As I drove home that night from the concert, I started laughing at myself. What was that sigh for? It wasn’t like I had thought of him more than twice in the past year. How would my life be different now that I knew he was engaged? It wouldn’t be. Would there be anything missing from my life? No. It wasn’t as if we’d been corresponding or communicating in anyway. We’re strangers to one another.
Fact is I’m a chronic dreamer, and I tend to imagine even after a brief meeting what it would be like to get to know someone better. A random act of kindness or a chance encounter has me pondering the what-ifs for hours. Spending an hour in conversation with someone I find mentally stimulating has me curiously distracted as I contemplate how to arrange a second meeting. More than once or twice A WEEK, I contemplate what life would be life with that man, this other man or that guy over there.
I’m fickle. There is no consistency in my day dreams. It’s not that all of these men are blonde or tall. There’s no special attribute that all of these men have in common really either—with the exception that there was something about them that intrigued me.
Well, this past Sunday night as I drove home after the concert, there was one thing that I realized about my day dreams that I think is harmful. This musician I thought rather remarkable has a life on the road probably 40 out of 52 weeks a year. I was imagining how fun it would be to travel on tour with the group. Well, the truth is that one of us is home 40 out of 52 weekends in a year, and while touring might have some glamorous appeal, I’d probably prefer to be home in my own space rather than on a cramped tour bus any day. I’m not the type of person that would want to be put on the spot or brought out from the shadows on display as the group traveled from church to church either. I’m a behind the scenes person. I wouldn't like life on the road, and I'd definitely not be a trophy wife.
And what about all the others I’ve daydreamed about in the past? The same is true. See, I tend to imagine my life in their world as if a relationship was a way to escape my own world. I’ve been picturing me in their lives, but I can’t really imagine them in mine, which is rather ironic. It seems to me that THAT would be something that would need to be a match! What is so wrong with my own life that I feel I need to move on to another life rather than looking for someone to share the life that I’m living?
Something is wrong with that picture…
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Autumn Wonder!
There’s just something magical about fall. I love it. Minus the cold rain and the endless football season, it’s a delightful time of year. To me, even the word autumn is whimsical.
I love the cooler air even though it stings my eyes a little on a frosty morning. I revel in the sounds of autumn—munching on a crisp green apple or running through crunchy piles of leaves. The smells of fall enthrall me as well—the freshly mowed slick wet grass or that unique smell of pumpkins. There is just so much to enjoy about fall—apple cider, candy corn and caramel apples; hayrides, bonfires and hikes. Simply marvelous!
This past weekend I got to spend some time out in the open air for a couple of hours. It was a cooler weekend with highs in the mid 50’s, and while the weather man kept predicting rain, it was a pleasant cool but sunny day for a girls’ outing to a local winery.
The drive provided us with wonderful views of the bright fall foliage. Isn’t it amazing how quickly the leaves turn colors? I know it’s a chemical thing. The leaves are simply doing what leaves do, but it’s no less miraculous.
At the winery, we were warmed up from the inside out as we sampled new varieties. I discovered that some wines actually do taste as they are described. In my limited experience, I’ve been baffled with how wines are supposedly flavored. I read the label and am discouraged that I can’t taste what I am supposed to taste.
Soft oak finish or a hint of oak: Huh? Am I buying kitchen cabinets or alcohol? Do I want to taste wood when I am sipping wine?
Reminiscent of berry, violet and spice: OK. So this was made in memory of berries, violet and spice? How touching!
Raspberry and watermelon: Wow! So, were the raspberries and watermelon merely within a 3 mile radius at the time the wine was made or what? Did someone forget to put them in the wine?
Caramel and nuts: Really? Where? Is there ice cream?
Well, this weekend I discovered that blackberry wine actually tastes like blackberries, and I was thrilled at this new discovery! I didn’t have to use my imagination or lie about it. It was good stuff! I actually tasted the blackberries, and I couldn’t stop gushing about it. It was impressive. I’m not saying I’d want it every day, mind you, but every once in a while wouldn’t be bad.
And while my friends shopped at the winery, I explored the great outdoors. Camera in tow, I walked down to the lake and admired the tranquil setting. I enjoyed the pumpkin displays and the vividly colored floral arrangements.
Afterwards, we drove to Bloomington and visited the IU campus. My friend Sara, an IU alum, gave us a tour of the grounds as we enjoyed the crisp fall air and marveled at the brilliant foliage. I took lots of pictures of nature’s classic beauties amidst the stately grandeur of the historic buildings. Wonderful!
We finished up the evening with a tasty meal at a local pub that is fast becoming a favorite of mine. Fried pickles are rather sublime!
It’s moments like these that I need to savor—moments of pure joy in my current state of affairs. Maybe that’s why I take so many pictures, why memories are so important, and why it is vital to me to capture each moment—I like to remember. Not so that I can be depressed because that exuberant day is over, but rather on a future gloomy day, I can once again relive this prime moment and see all the beauty and joy that my life has afforded me. And be reminded again of how blessed I am...
I love the cooler air even though it stings my eyes a little on a frosty morning. I revel in the sounds of autumn—munching on a crisp green apple or running through crunchy piles of leaves. The smells of fall enthrall me as well—the freshly mowed slick wet grass or that unique smell of pumpkins. There is just so much to enjoy about fall—apple cider, candy corn and caramel apples; hayrides, bonfires and hikes. Simply marvelous!
This past weekend I got to spend some time out in the open air for a couple of hours. It was a cooler weekend with highs in the mid 50’s, and while the weather man kept predicting rain, it was a pleasant cool but sunny day for a girls’ outing to a local winery.
The drive provided us with wonderful views of the bright fall foliage. Isn’t it amazing how quickly the leaves turn colors? I know it’s a chemical thing. The leaves are simply doing what leaves do, but it’s no less miraculous.
At the winery, we were warmed up from the inside out as we sampled new varieties. I discovered that some wines actually do taste as they are described. In my limited experience, I’ve been baffled with how wines are supposedly flavored. I read the label and am discouraged that I can’t taste what I am supposed to taste.
Soft oak finish or a hint of oak: Huh? Am I buying kitchen cabinets or alcohol? Do I want to taste wood when I am sipping wine?
Reminiscent of berry, violet and spice: OK. So this was made in memory of berries, violet and spice? How touching!
Raspberry and watermelon: Wow! So, were the raspberries and watermelon merely within a 3 mile radius at the time the wine was made or what? Did someone forget to put them in the wine?
Caramel and nuts: Really? Where? Is there ice cream?
Well, this weekend I discovered that blackberry wine actually tastes like blackberries, and I was thrilled at this new discovery! I didn’t have to use my imagination or lie about it. It was good stuff! I actually tasted the blackberries, and I couldn’t stop gushing about it. It was impressive. I’m not saying I’d want it every day, mind you, but every once in a while wouldn’t be bad.
And while my friends shopped at the winery, I explored the great outdoors. Camera in tow, I walked down to the lake and admired the tranquil setting. I enjoyed the pumpkin displays and the vividly colored floral arrangements.
Afterwards, we drove to Bloomington and visited the IU campus. My friend Sara, an IU alum, gave us a tour of the grounds as we enjoyed the crisp fall air and marveled at the brilliant foliage. I took lots of pictures of nature’s classic beauties amidst the stately grandeur of the historic buildings. Wonderful!
We finished up the evening with a tasty meal at a local pub that is fast becoming a favorite of mine. Fried pickles are rather sublime!
It’s moments like these that I need to savor—moments of pure joy in my current state of affairs. Maybe that’s why I take so many pictures, why memories are so important, and why it is vital to me to capture each moment—I like to remember. Not so that I can be depressed because that exuberant day is over, but rather on a future gloomy day, I can once again relive this prime moment and see all the beauty and joy that my life has afforded me. And be reminded again of how blessed I am...
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Can't go back...
I know we can’t go back and have a re-do of our lives or of the relationships we’ve built and destroyed along the way, but there are times I wish for the opportunity to do just that…
I wish I had taken the time to tell more people what I really thought of them. And we’re talking good stuff here. I mean there have been moments where I’ve wished I had taken the opportunity to ZING someone with a quick retort, but those aren’t the moments I think back on with regret…
I worked for 2 college summers with this guy named Clay. He was a tough guy, a brute to most people, and OH my word, he was sarcastic! We rarely had a sarcasm-free conversation or talked without him cutting me down to size, but I knew that there was more to him. Several times, I saw his gentleness, his compassion for those less fortunate and his strong character. And I wish that just once I had told him that I admired him just as he was. I wish that I had tried to pierce that armor and those walls he had built up around him and had told him that I knew the truth—he had a heart of gold.
I often wonder what became of Clay and where he is today…I wish him well and hope he has found happiness and peace, and I hope he hasn’t completely lost that sarcastic edge either. I found it rather amusing!
I wish I had given and openly received more hugs and kisses and taken help when it was offered. I was never big on affection until the last few years and even then it’s just taken some huggy people to get me to come around. And when it comes to allowing people to help me or accepting their kindness, it’s really been hard for me to accept it.
My Mom says that even as a baby, I wasn’t much of a cuddler. No gentle rocking for this baby! I simply wanted to be placed in my crib and left alone to get to sleep. I think back on my childhood, and especially my teen years, with more than a twinge of sadness because I didn’t like hugs or kisses. I’d tolerate them from grandparents and the older people in my church, but I would push my Mom away when she would try to hug or kiss me.
If I ever got hurt, I’d push people away when they would try to assist me. I wanted to get up on my own two feet and not let anyone see me weak. I’d turn nasty and send people running away with a glare or a hasty “Leave me alone.” I didn’t accept the kindness of others, and I’m not sure why. I’m guessing it was just pure stubbornness.
My nieces and nephews get lots of affection from their Aunt Mel now. And I like getting together with girlfriends and getting hugs all around—in fact sometimes I actually initiate hugs now, which is huge if you knew me from 5, 10 or 15 years ago. I think all of us do need affection more than we realize. I’m also still trying to work through the whole accepting of kindness thing. It’s difficult for me. I tend to initially balk at compliments or completely disregard them, and I’m learning to see how rude and hurtful that actually is.
We can’t correct the past or erase past wrongs, and sometimes we don’t get that second chance to tell someone what we really feel either. But we can take advantage of the here and now and change the moment we’re in. I can tell those near and dear to my heart right NOW how much I appreciate them. I can give free hugs and kisses all around to my family and friends. In the days ahead, I hope to live with an appreciation for the blessings I have been given and a heart of gratefulness for where I am…
I wish I had taken the time to tell more people what I really thought of them. And we’re talking good stuff here. I mean there have been moments where I’ve wished I had taken the opportunity to ZING someone with a quick retort, but those aren’t the moments I think back on with regret…
I worked for 2 college summers with this guy named Clay. He was a tough guy, a brute to most people, and OH my word, he was sarcastic! We rarely had a sarcasm-free conversation or talked without him cutting me down to size, but I knew that there was more to him. Several times, I saw his gentleness, his compassion for those less fortunate and his strong character. And I wish that just once I had told him that I admired him just as he was. I wish that I had tried to pierce that armor and those walls he had built up around him and had told him that I knew the truth—he had a heart of gold.
I often wonder what became of Clay and where he is today…I wish him well and hope he has found happiness and peace, and I hope he hasn’t completely lost that sarcastic edge either. I found it rather amusing!
I wish I had given and openly received more hugs and kisses and taken help when it was offered. I was never big on affection until the last few years and even then it’s just taken some huggy people to get me to come around. And when it comes to allowing people to help me or accepting their kindness, it’s really been hard for me to accept it.
My Mom says that even as a baby, I wasn’t much of a cuddler. No gentle rocking for this baby! I simply wanted to be placed in my crib and left alone to get to sleep. I think back on my childhood, and especially my teen years, with more than a twinge of sadness because I didn’t like hugs or kisses. I’d tolerate them from grandparents and the older people in my church, but I would push my Mom away when she would try to hug or kiss me.
If I ever got hurt, I’d push people away when they would try to assist me. I wanted to get up on my own two feet and not let anyone see me weak. I’d turn nasty and send people running away with a glare or a hasty “Leave me alone.” I didn’t accept the kindness of others, and I’m not sure why. I’m guessing it was just pure stubbornness.
My nieces and nephews get lots of affection from their Aunt Mel now. And I like getting together with girlfriends and getting hugs all around—in fact sometimes I actually initiate hugs now, which is huge if you knew me from 5, 10 or 15 years ago. I think all of us do need affection more than we realize. I’m also still trying to work through the whole accepting of kindness thing. It’s difficult for me. I tend to initially balk at compliments or completely disregard them, and I’m learning to see how rude and hurtful that actually is.
We can’t correct the past or erase past wrongs, and sometimes we don’t get that second chance to tell someone what we really feel either. But we can take advantage of the here and now and change the moment we’re in. I can tell those near and dear to my heart right NOW how much I appreciate them. I can give free hugs and kisses all around to my family and friends. In the days ahead, I hope to live with an appreciation for the blessings I have been given and a heart of gratefulness for where I am…
Stepping in her shoes...
I went to see In Her Shoes this weekend. And while I couldn’t identify with all of the elements of the story such as the part where one sister sleeps with her sister’s boyfriend out of spite and just because she can, I did identify with that delicate balance of sisterhood. There is a closeness, a bond that we share that is hard to describe and even harder to understand.
My sister and I haven't been able to swap shoes since I was in 5th grade or so. She's 2 years younger and at least 5 inches taller, but we have had our fair share of growing pains in our relationship. As young girls we fought over dolls, toys and that strategic middle line in the backseat of the car. [You know…that imaginary dividing line between her side and my side.] As young adults, we moved on to disagreements over clothes, boys and time in the bathroom. After college, our heated discussions were about dating and marriage, spiritual things, etc.
We've had our moments of heated debate, but there has always been that delicate thread woven between the two of us that has yet to be broken. It’s been tugged and nearly snapped in two but never frayed beyond repair.
When I look back at those rough periods, I find it interesting how much has transpired and how those spats and fights are so insignificant now when at the time they seemed so huge. GOD has pulled us through some hard times and brought us closer to each other and HIMSELF on the other side. It's amazing how wonderful forgiveness really is. My sister and I don't view each other with those past wrongs in front of our faces every time we talk or get together. She's not remembering the hurtful things I've said and done, and vice versa when I talk with her, those things are far from my mind as well.
And if imperfect sisterly love covers such wrongs, just imagine how incredible GOD's loving forgiveness really is! The fact that a perfect and holy GOD chooses to forget and forgive all of my bad, evil and ugly deeds, words and thoughts is just incomprehensible! That HE sent HIS beloved SON to stand in my shoes, as it were, and bear my punishment for me. All HE requires is a humble and broken heart that is willing to confess those sins, ask for HIS forgiveness and accept HIS gift. It takes my breath away... How can I be less than grateful?
My sister and I haven't been able to swap shoes since I was in 5th grade or so. She's 2 years younger and at least 5 inches taller, but we have had our fair share of growing pains in our relationship. As young girls we fought over dolls, toys and that strategic middle line in the backseat of the car. [You know…that imaginary dividing line between her side and my side.] As young adults, we moved on to disagreements over clothes, boys and time in the bathroom. After college, our heated discussions were about dating and marriage, spiritual things, etc.
We've had our moments of heated debate, but there has always been that delicate thread woven between the two of us that has yet to be broken. It’s been tugged and nearly snapped in two but never frayed beyond repair.
When I look back at those rough periods, I find it interesting how much has transpired and how those spats and fights are so insignificant now when at the time they seemed so huge. GOD has pulled us through some hard times and brought us closer to each other and HIMSELF on the other side. It's amazing how wonderful forgiveness really is. My sister and I don't view each other with those past wrongs in front of our faces every time we talk or get together. She's not remembering the hurtful things I've said and done, and vice versa when I talk with her, those things are far from my mind as well.
And if imperfect sisterly love covers such wrongs, just imagine how incredible GOD's loving forgiveness really is! The fact that a perfect and holy GOD chooses to forget and forgive all of my bad, evil and ugly deeds, words and thoughts is just incomprehensible! That HE sent HIS beloved SON to stand in my shoes, as it were, and bear my punishment for me. All HE requires is a humble and broken heart that is willing to confess those sins, ask for HIS forgiveness and accept HIS gift. It takes my breath away... How can I be less than grateful?
Monday, October 10, 2005
Numb and Speechless...
Speechlessness is not something I encounter on a day-to-day basis, but there are just some things I don't know how to respond to. A point that I reach where there are no words, where I actually have nothing to say. I'm struck dumb as it were.
My dear friend was raped last week in the middle of the night. A man broke into her home and raped her. This dear "sister" of mine is a treasure. She's a vibrant life force that has seen a lot more of the world than I have. I admire her courage, her bravery and strength in the midst of adversity. She's a force to be reckoned with.
Not only is she strong and courageous, but she is also warm and loving. She's one of those friends that always seems to know when you need a shoulder. She makes herself available even when she's crazy busy. She's extremely thoughtful and likes to surprise you. She once sent me a Valentine's bouquet just because she could, and she signed it from "Howard," which was a joke between the 2 of us. She's a wonderful loving mother to her 2 children, as well. They are a delightful priority in her life!
Her sense of humor continues to amaze me. She makes me laugh at some of the oddest moments. We've spent hours together laughing and harassing each other. We play fight and start arguments over the silliest things just for laughs! We're real with each other as well. She's called me on the carpet a couple of times just as I have her.
And behind the laughs, I've been blessed with a dear friendship. She and I clicked from the first day we met. We really did. We connected in one of those moments straight out of a movie or a book...we instantly understood each other and still have the capabilities with just one look to say volumes!
...And so with something like this plaguing her life, I'm left without words. I just want her to know that she is loved.
My dear friend was raped last week in the middle of the night. A man broke into her home and raped her. This dear "sister" of mine is a treasure. She's a vibrant life force that has seen a lot more of the world than I have. I admire her courage, her bravery and strength in the midst of adversity. She's a force to be reckoned with.
Not only is she strong and courageous, but she is also warm and loving. She's one of those friends that always seems to know when you need a shoulder. She makes herself available even when she's crazy busy. She's extremely thoughtful and likes to surprise you. She once sent me a Valentine's bouquet just because she could, and she signed it from "Howard," which was a joke between the 2 of us. She's a wonderful loving mother to her 2 children, as well. They are a delightful priority in her life!
Her sense of humor continues to amaze me. She makes me laugh at some of the oddest moments. We've spent hours together laughing and harassing each other. We play fight and start arguments over the silliest things just for laughs! We're real with each other as well. She's called me on the carpet a couple of times just as I have her.
And behind the laughs, I've been blessed with a dear friendship. She and I clicked from the first day we met. We really did. We connected in one of those moments straight out of a movie or a book...we instantly understood each other and still have the capabilities with just one look to say volumes!
...And so with something like this plaguing her life, I'm left without words. I just want her to know that she is loved.
Friday, October 7, 2005
Tick! Tock! TICK!! TOCK!!
There are moments and I confess more than a few when there seems to be an incessant clock methodically counting off the minutes in my head and reminding me that time is getting short. Yes, my biological clock is alive and well and getting louder and louder with each passing year. And sometimes I'm not quite sure what to do about it...
I like children. I’ve been around kids most of my life. My Mom had a day care in our home from my entry into kindergarten through my 4 years in college, and so there were children in our home all year round. There was never a shortage of younger children to play with and entertain, and so my sister and I were always active—playing games, coloring, taking walks, enjoying the park. It wasn’t a bad set up really. OH! we had our whining moments about having to give up our own rooms during afternoon naptime or struggling to find a quiet retreat away from the “little kids” who clamored for our attention, but looking back now, it was rather fun! Never a dull moment in our home, that’s for sure.
Because of all that daily experience with tiny babies through 8 year olds, I started babysitting on my own at 11. I loved it. For me it was hours of pretending to be a grown up. Not only did I get to play with the children, but I got to cook dinner on my own and get the kids ready for bed. I’d get them all snuggled in for the night—getting them their final glass of water or reading countless books to them. And once they were all asleep, I’d start cleaning up the kitchen. I’d do the dishes and tidy up the house. I guess I enjoyed just being a “Mom” for a few hours and dreaming of the day when I too would have a home and a family of my own to care for.
I became an aunt when I was almost 16. I was delighted to hold this dear sweet little creature in my arms and realize that I was her “aunt.” It was very exciting. And when I graduated from high school 6 months early, I went to live with my brother and his family for 2 months as a nanny. I took care of my young niece as she underwent a rigorous medical procedure. I’ve become an aunt 7 more times since then, and it’s one of my greatest pleasures to be “Aunt Mel.”
In college, I had some interaction with children on the campus, but I really seemed to find my niche working at a weekend and summer camp for children and adults with special needs. Being a cabin counselor afforded me that opportunity of being a “Mom” for a week—getting my girls to breakfast on time, tidying the cabin, entertaining and interacting with the campers, etc. I was back in my element.
After college, I tried to find a job that would utilize my writing degree, and instead, I found myself working in a day care as an infant care supervisor [glossy title for a job of changing diapers, making bottles, etc.] It took its toll on me quickly. It was hard to get good helpers, and I ended up caring for the 8 babies on my own, which proved to be too much for me. After 16 months, I found a more suitable professional position and took a break from direct involvement with child care.
I plugged into my career and my future. At first I think I assumed that all of my interest in becoming a Mother had departed and that maybe those long months in the nursery had changed me for good. But after a few months, I found myself again wishing for a family of my own.
And today, 8 years later, I still do. The dream is still there inside of me. I wrestle with the desire to be a Mother and a wife. I chat with GOD about it often. I know WHO created me and gave me this motherly instinct and this drive to have a family of my own. HE gave me this desire, and I struggle with the fact that I’m not able to fulfill this GOD-given desire as I’d like.
However, I have found that I can use my gifts in other ways…I try to be a good aunt to my 3 nephews and 5 nieces. When I’m with them, I take great delight in spending time with them and hopefully helping to mold them into the loving and strong persons I’d like to see them be. And while, I would love for my nieces and nephews to have another uncle and have a family of my own, I find that it’s still good here. Those that can’t be Mothers can still use their gifts, their “twinkles” if you will, for the power of good. When I spend time with friends and family, I still find myself drawn to the children in the room. I want to hold the babies or chase after the toddlers; I want to play games with the kids or find out what’s new in their lives.
I’m 31, and I don’t know what the future will bring. Sometimes I wonder will the ticking stop when the possibility of motherhood ends? Maybe at 40 or 45? What will I hear in my head then? Hmmmm…
So while I don’t know exactly what’s in store for me in the days ahead, I do know that my Heavenly FATHER has it under control!! For now, my family is what I make it. I’m blessed with a wonderful sister and brother-in-law that include me as part of their own family even on vacations and family outings. I have several fabulous female friends that are my “sisters”—we talk, laugh, cry and travel together! And there are numerous other people that I could include in my growing “family,” and so most days, I consider myself blessed. Life is seldom the way we’ve imagined it, and while reality is not always better than our dreams, it is an incredible adventure…
Tuesday, October 4, 2005
I’m a self-diagnostic…
Basically this means that I tend to self-diagnose symptoms or occurrences, which makes me rather dangerous. Maybe not so much a danger to others, I imagine, but definitely a hazard to myself! And my cynical, slightly pessimistic outlook often helps to build the drama...just ask my sister.
For example, one day I started experiencing spots in my vision and I was unable to look into the light, and the next thing you know, I'm sure that either I'm now a diabetic and going blind or perhaps I'm turning into a vampire! AHEM!! In actuality, I was starting symptoms for a severe migraine headache.
Or the numerous times that my car has started making a new noise, and after 10 minutes of Internet research I was sure that I had a blown head gasket or needed to replace the serpentine belt or have the engine rebuilt. Yes, nothing thrills a mechanic like a consumer acting like an expert and self-diagnosing their car's engine when the truth is that this same consumer struggles to remember how to pop the hood up or where to replenish the windshield washer fluid. I just know that my mechanic feels I should be committed.
I've stopped watching Dateline NBC or 60 Minutes and other shows like that for similar reasons. Seeing some horror journalistic story about some new fatal flu or learning about a horrendous accident involving a kitchen blender or hearing about the brown recluse spider that was found nesting under the toilet seat lid--well, these are just stories that I don't need to see or hear about. Trust me!
On the plus side, I have been right a time or two. Like the time I knew that I had Bell's Palsy in college, and my doctor was sure couldn't possibly have it. Well the tests proved me right, but that was purely an educated guess, and I'm quite sure that my odds of getting things right since have not increased.
I guess you could say that I like gaining knowledge and learning more about a subject, but that doesn't make me the master of much. Little snippets of information to a slight hypochondriac and a rampant arachnophobic personality along with a vivid dramatic imagination can be more than dangerous...yes, it can be downright perilous!
I often wonder why my parents named me Melanie, which means courageous. I know that nothing happens by accident, but really, that is just too ironic. I'm not courageous at all. Hmmmmm...
For example, one day I started experiencing spots in my vision and I was unable to look into the light, and the next thing you know, I'm sure that either I'm now a diabetic and going blind or perhaps I'm turning into a vampire! AHEM!! In actuality, I was starting symptoms for a severe migraine headache.
Or the numerous times that my car has started making a new noise, and after 10 minutes of Internet research I was sure that I had a blown head gasket or needed to replace the serpentine belt or have the engine rebuilt. Yes, nothing thrills a mechanic like a consumer acting like an expert and self-diagnosing their car's engine when the truth is that this same consumer struggles to remember how to pop the hood up or where to replenish the windshield washer fluid. I just know that my mechanic feels I should be committed.
I've stopped watching Dateline NBC or 60 Minutes and other shows like that for similar reasons. Seeing some horror journalistic story about some new fatal flu or learning about a horrendous accident involving a kitchen blender or hearing about the brown recluse spider that was found nesting under the toilet seat lid--well, these are just stories that I don't need to see or hear about. Trust me!
On the plus side, I have been right a time or two. Like the time I knew that I had Bell's Palsy in college, and my doctor was sure couldn't possibly have it. Well the tests proved me right, but that was purely an educated guess, and I'm quite sure that my odds of getting things right since have not increased.
I guess you could say that I like gaining knowledge and learning more about a subject, but that doesn't make me the master of much. Little snippets of information to a slight hypochondriac and a rampant arachnophobic personality along with a vivid dramatic imagination can be more than dangerous...yes, it can be downright perilous!
I often wonder why my parents named me Melanie, which means courageous. I know that nothing happens by accident, but really, that is just too ironic. I'm not courageous at all. Hmmmmm...
Friday, September 30, 2005
Amidst all the mischief and mayhem this week...
There have been bright spots…
Like enjoying sweets and other treats as we celebrated one of my attorney’s birthdays in the office! There is always an abundance of goodies to munch on all day, and while the singing of “happy birthday” was a bit painful for all to hear, I still think the birthday boy liked the attention! Many happy returns of the day, Carl!
Like spending an evening with girlfriends and watching yet another chic flick! No one likes goodbyes really, but sharing pizza and a little wine while enjoying a good movie made our “goodbye to Denae” party easier! We’ll miss you, Denae!
Like having my former boss treat me to lunch at Macaroni Grill. He had a stroke this past March just 3 weeks after his retirement, and so it was so great to see him as active as ever and regaining use of his faculties. And nothing beats a steaming plate of Pasta Milano with bowtie pasta, chicken, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes and a creamy garlic alfredo sauce along with some tasty bread! Wonderful! I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Bob J.!
Like laughing with a co-worker as we both struggled to figure out how to get my new windshield wiper blades on in the wind this afternoon. From an earlier conversation this morning, I misunderstood and thought that she had done it before. She hadn’t, but she had watched it being done and thought we could handle it. SHE did! While I chased the cardboard trash around and tried to locate my car manual, she played around with the contraption and got the new wipers on and working beautifully. She can’t wait to share the news with her husband. He will be so proud. Thanks, Barb!
Yes, even in the midst of this week, there are high points and special moments to celebrate—for which I am grateful! Thank you, LORD!
Like enjoying sweets and other treats as we celebrated one of my attorney’s birthdays in the office! There is always an abundance of goodies to munch on all day, and while the singing of “happy birthday” was a bit painful for all to hear, I still think the birthday boy liked the attention! Many happy returns of the day, Carl!
Like spending an evening with girlfriends and watching yet another chic flick! No one likes goodbyes really, but sharing pizza and a little wine while enjoying a good movie made our “goodbye to Denae” party easier! We’ll miss you, Denae!
Like having my former boss treat me to lunch at Macaroni Grill. He had a stroke this past March just 3 weeks after his retirement, and so it was so great to see him as active as ever and regaining use of his faculties. And nothing beats a steaming plate of Pasta Milano with bowtie pasta, chicken, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes and a creamy garlic alfredo sauce along with some tasty bread! Wonderful! I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Bob J.!
Like laughing with a co-worker as we both struggled to figure out how to get my new windshield wiper blades on in the wind this afternoon. From an earlier conversation this morning, I misunderstood and thought that she had done it before. She hadn’t, but she had watched it being done and thought we could handle it. SHE did! While I chased the cardboard trash around and tried to locate my car manual, she played around with the contraption and got the new wipers on and working beautifully. She can’t wait to share the news with her husband. He will be so proud. Thanks, Barb!
Yes, even in the midst of this week, there are high points and special moments to celebrate—for which I am grateful! Thank you, LORD!
Parking Space Blues…
I’ve had one of those weeks—one of those maddening, irritating weeks where one thing after another has gone wrong. I’ve wanted to signal for a TIME OUT or request a do-over, but in real life, the PAUSE or REWIND button doesn’t really help, and come to think of it the FAST FORWARD button doesn’t apply either…
One of my sample irritations is my parking space. I pay for a space in the carport at my apartment complex, and for some reason, due to a clerical paperwork error, my spot was given to someone else this week. I didn’t know about it until the office called to verify which spot I parked in. Apparently their records had a discrepancy between the spot I always park in and the spot they thought I parked in. I learned that they had sold my spot to a new resident, who was calling their offices asking for my car to be towed out of “their” spot. So, I was glad that the office called prior to towing away my vehicle. We discussed what had happened, and I felt that we got everything squared away. I would keep my spot same as always, and they would move the new resident into an “actual” vacant space.
However, I came home the next couple of days to find my spot without a vacancy. I called the complex office that first night and left a message that someone was in my spot. No response. When I got to work the next day, I called again and left a second message. No response. I called when I got home from work the next night to report once again that someone else was parked in my spot. I got an actual person this time and was told that I was parking in the wrong spot because they had me in another spot. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. How could they bump me from my current spot that I had been parking in for 9 months? That didn’t make any sense. And how come none of what we had resolved on Monday was indicated in their records? I checked my lease and called back to argue some more. This time I got voicemail again and so I left a message asking for the manager to call me back and get this resolved.
Well, it’s day 5 in the drama, and I still don’t know which parking space is mine! But for 2 days now I’ve had to defrost my car because my carport space was taken. OK, so it’s not that big of a deal in light of what other people are facing. But this carport space drama—in light of all the other things that have happened this week—this is the final straw. It’s that thing that has put me over the edge!
My recent encounters with my apartment complex staff and with customer service representatives at two of my banks have me spinning my wheels in frustration and wondering whatever happened to customer service in this country! Why is it that after 6 calls to my landlord I still don’t have anything reconciled? Why doesn’t anyone return my calls? Why am I the one having to call again and again and listen to conflicting information every time?
I’m not asking for a lot here, I don't think. I just want communication and a resolution. At this point in time, I’d settle for any carport space. Just tell me where to park and I’ll park there. HA!
There’s a commercial on the air right now that emphasizes the poor customer service with demonstrations of such behavior with a bagger at a grocery putting the gallon of milk on top of the carton of eggs in a bag or the UPS man crushing a package in an elevator door, etc. I found it funny at first and overstated. I was thinking…this would be what it was like IF things had really gotten that bad. However, after my week, I find it rather hopelessly true. (I guess my rose-colored glasses have been smashed!)Gone are the days when the customer is always right! The modern slogan is: The customer? What customer? I don't think we have those!
Ah but today the world is brighter already. It's FRIDAY!!!! WOOHOO!! I’m thrilled to have the weekend to recuperate.
One of my sample irritations is my parking space. I pay for a space in the carport at my apartment complex, and for some reason, due to a clerical paperwork error, my spot was given to someone else this week. I didn’t know about it until the office called to verify which spot I parked in. Apparently their records had a discrepancy between the spot I always park in and the spot they thought I parked in. I learned that they had sold my spot to a new resident, who was calling their offices asking for my car to be towed out of “their” spot. So, I was glad that the office called prior to towing away my vehicle. We discussed what had happened, and I felt that we got everything squared away. I would keep my spot same as always, and they would move the new resident into an “actual” vacant space.
However, I came home the next couple of days to find my spot without a vacancy. I called the complex office that first night and left a message that someone was in my spot. No response. When I got to work the next day, I called again and left a second message. No response. I called when I got home from work the next night to report once again that someone else was parked in my spot. I got an actual person this time and was told that I was parking in the wrong spot because they had me in another spot. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. How could they bump me from my current spot that I had been parking in for 9 months? That didn’t make any sense. And how come none of what we had resolved on Monday was indicated in their records? I checked my lease and called back to argue some more. This time I got voicemail again and so I left a message asking for the manager to call me back and get this resolved.
Well, it’s day 5 in the drama, and I still don’t know which parking space is mine! But for 2 days now I’ve had to defrost my car because my carport space was taken. OK, so it’s not that big of a deal in light of what other people are facing. But this carport space drama—in light of all the other things that have happened this week—this is the final straw. It’s that thing that has put me over the edge!
My recent encounters with my apartment complex staff and with customer service representatives at two of my banks have me spinning my wheels in frustration and wondering whatever happened to customer service in this country! Why is it that after 6 calls to my landlord I still don’t have anything reconciled? Why doesn’t anyone return my calls? Why am I the one having to call again and again and listen to conflicting information every time?
I’m not asking for a lot here, I don't think. I just want communication and a resolution. At this point in time, I’d settle for any carport space. Just tell me where to park and I’ll park there. HA!
There’s a commercial on the air right now that emphasizes the poor customer service with demonstrations of such behavior with a bagger at a grocery putting the gallon of milk on top of the carton of eggs in a bag or the UPS man crushing a package in an elevator door, etc. I found it funny at first and overstated. I was thinking…this would be what it was like IF things had really gotten that bad. However, after my week, I find it rather hopelessly true. (I guess my rose-colored glasses have been smashed!)Gone are the days when the customer is always right! The modern slogan is: The customer? What customer? I don't think we have those!
Ah but today the world is brighter already. It's FRIDAY!!!! WOOHOO!! I’m thrilled to have the weekend to recuperate.
Monday, September 19, 2005
I love autumn...
The smell of burning leaves, the crisp cool air, the crunchy sounds on the ground, the thought of pumpkin pie and candy corn and apple cider, etc. It's all bliss to me--save one thing. FOOTBALL!
I've hated the game ever since I can remember. The only time I ever enjoyed football was going to local games in my small town when I was in high school, and believe me --it was never really about the game. It was about the boys and trying to fit into the local scene after living a sheltered existence in private school!
Growing up with 3 older brothers meant that football was on every Saturday and Sunday afternoon in our home! Every major holiday like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's was all about the game, and it didn't matter who was playing or even if they were fans of either team on the field. Football was on TV, and thus it had to be watched.
On Thanksgiving, my sister and I would watch a couple of hours of the parades in the morning before getting booted off the TV. And then would start the real male bonding--the arguing over specific plays, the yelling matches at the TV, and the complete annoyance at anyone interrupting the game (i.e. a little sister asking a question was quickly banished from the room). And you can just imagine how thrilled they were when I would hide the TV remote right before the games started. I was far from blameless especially since it was probably my desire to watch a movie on TV myself that made me so ornery with my brothers in the first place.
As an adult, my dislike of football has continued. I have plenty of friends that love the game. In fact some of my closest girlfriends enjoy nothing better than watching a good football game, but I rarely join in even when they have parties. And when I'm with my family on the holidays, I make an effort to do other things. I guess I want Thanksgiving to be about family time, and to me family time isn't about falling asleep watching TV together or ignoring the pleas of the younger generation to join in some fun with them. And maybe because I don't have a family of my own, family time is so precious. I want to go for walks with my Mom and my nieces and nephews and play games and spend every minute I can in their company. Maybe it's become a matter of principle for me! Or maybe I'm just stubbornly refusing to follow that old "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" idea! Whatever it is, I haven't changed my opinion of the game.
My oldest nephew is now on a football team, and this past weekend, I went to his 1st football game ever. Despite my personal feelings for the game, I wanted to support him. So I went and for the most part enjoyed my time there. And yet at the same time, part of me was a bit saddened. I fear I am losing him to this game I dislike so much. I'm watching him change from that boy who liked nothing better than playing hours and hours of Monopoly into a young man who like his Dad and uncles now yells at the referees on TV.
I joked with a co-worker this morning that a lack of interest in football was on my top 10 list for a future mate. She laughed at me, and I could tell she thought me a bit silly, and perhaps I am as I pine for a man who doesn't like the game either. [With my luck, I'll meet a peewee league football coach and fall madly in love, and that will be an end to my soap box days.]
For now, I'm sticking to my anti-football stance. I think a healthy regard or interest in most things can be positive, but any obsession taken to extremes--whether in football or anti-football, photography or even card-making--can be harmful to ourselves and to those relationships around us! Maybe I should watch a game or two this season as therapy...hmmmm? Don't count on it.
Friday, September 16, 2005
I love being an Aunt...
I really do. Nothing else quite like it! Simply delightful!
I first became an Aunt 1 week shy of my 16th birthday (which means that my sister first became an Aunt at 13). I remember being excited that this tiny little entity would one day call me “Aunt,” but a bit bewildered by it as well. Aunts were supposed to be my parents’ age. They were supposed to be older and have more life experience, weren’t they? All of my Aunts were.
Three nephews and 4 more nieces later, it is still a special thrill to become an Aunt to another small resident of this planet we call home. It happened for the 8th time this week. My sister gave birth to Grace Anna on Tuesday of this week, and it was just as thrilling this time, too!
With each year, it does seem to get more and more certain that I may never have a family of my own. I'd be lying if I said that it didn't bother me from time to time. Sure it does get to me on occasions, but for the most part, I'm good with the status quo. I feel blessed in other ways. I have 5 nieces and 3 nephews to call my own, and for that I am truly grateful. After all, family is what we make it…and I like mine just fine!
Friday, September 2, 2005
I'm glad to be single...
But don't quote me when I'm having one of those I'm-sure-I'm-the-last-single-girl-out-there days.This is not one of those days however. Today is a good day. Today I'm overwhelmed with just how good I have it. I feel free...
A couple weekends ago, 2 fellow single girlfriends and I went for an exciting 4-day weekend to St. Louis. OK, maybe some of you are wondering why! Why St. Louis? I know I wasn't sure how it would go or just how entertaining St. Louis could be, but I am now pasionately mad about the city. It was wonderful. So many FREE...yes, I did say F-R-E-E things to do. The Art Museum with it's inviting galleries,the St. Louis Zoo with it's wonderful animals, the Missouri History Museum with its intriguing collections, the breath-taking Cathedral Basilica with its 41.5 million colorful mosaic tiles, and many more freebies! Delightful!!
Our sight-seeing also included ticket price excursions like a tour of the fabulous Fox Theatre, where we were delighted to run into Kelly Clarkson preparing for a concert; or the brilliant and dazzling Missouri Botanical Gardens which reminded me of Europe (yes, Europe--the Europe I've not been to yet, I know, but I can imagine it like Europe, can't I?). It was all wonderful and exciting!
So what all does that have to do with me being glad I'm single? Well, because I could do it. I had the means, the opportunity and the freedom to do it. I could pack my bags and head out for a long weekend without scheduling it with a significant other or without really having to alert anyone. In this case, it was a highly-planned trip that we schemed and budgeted for weeks in advance, but those last-minute plans are highly possible and easier to do in my present state.
It's something that we singles sometimes take for granted. That freedom to move from one thing to another, to consider that job in London, to plan something last minute or on a whim...and so today I'm thankful--thankful I'm right where I am. There's a whole world out there waiting, and I can see it at my leisure.
A couple weekends ago, 2 fellow single girlfriends and I went for an exciting 4-day weekend to St. Louis. OK, maybe some of you are wondering why! Why St. Louis? I know I wasn't sure how it would go or just how entertaining St. Louis could be, but I am now pasionately mad about the city. It was wonderful. So many FREE...yes, I did say F-R-E-E things to do. The Art Museum with it's inviting galleries,the St. Louis Zoo with it's wonderful animals, the Missouri History Museum with its intriguing collections, the breath-taking Cathedral Basilica with its 41.5 million colorful mosaic tiles, and many more freebies! Delightful!!
Our sight-seeing also included ticket price excursions like a tour of the fabulous Fox Theatre, where we were delighted to run into Kelly Clarkson preparing for a concert; or the brilliant and dazzling Missouri Botanical Gardens which reminded me of Europe (yes, Europe--the Europe I've not been to yet, I know, but I can imagine it like Europe, can't I?). It was all wonderful and exciting!
So what all does that have to do with me being glad I'm single? Well, because I could do it. I had the means, the opportunity and the freedom to do it. I could pack my bags and head out for a long weekend without scheduling it with a significant other or without really having to alert anyone. In this case, it was a highly-planned trip that we schemed and budgeted for weeks in advance, but those last-minute plans are highly possible and easier to do in my present state.
It's something that we singles sometimes take for granted. That freedom to move from one thing to another, to consider that job in London, to plan something last minute or on a whim...and so today I'm thankful--thankful I'm right where I am. There's a whole world out there waiting, and I can see it at my leisure.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Set Me Up Please...
In the past, I’ve commented to a small set of friends that I sometimes wonder why no one ever attempts to set me up with eligible men in their circles. Now to some of you this might sound like a silly complaint or a pathetically pitiful thing to whine about, but I’m sure that others have had similar thoughts on this subject before. Let me set the scene for you…
What If...
You’re single, and you’re having dinner with some friends and during the course of the evening, they tell you all about this guy they know. I mean they really sell him to you—“He’s a real gentleman, he’s never been married, he’s a writer with a charming British accent and he just won 1st prize in a Clive Owen look-a-like contest…”
So by now, you’re sold. In your head you’re picking out fonts for your wedding invitations and contemplating where to have the rehearsal dinner. [OK, maybe you’re not that far gone, but your curiosity has definitely been piqued!] You’re thinking quietly to yourself, hmmmm…this guy sounds interesting! I wonder how I could arrange to meet him. Do I look like I am too interested in this topic? Am I drooling? You find yourself naturally intrigued, and you’re dying to know more about this mystery man, and besides, your secretly thrilled that your friends decided to tell YOU about him.
And then your dear friends finish their engaging conversation about Mr. Right with: “So do you think he and Kelly would be a good match? I mean we’re hoping to introduce them at our cookout next month. What do you think? She deserves someone nice after her heartbreak over Jason, don’tcha think?”
You politely smile, nod your head and finish chewing your bite. But inside, your heart just let out a gasp, and you wonder why no one heard the sound! There is a complete whirlwind of activity brewing in your mind, and while you don’t want to appear rude or desperate to your friends you have to wonder…Why wouldn’t this man be a match for me? Am I invisible here? Did they forget that I’m single too? Do they ever consider me? Has the thought never crossed their minds that maybe just maybe I might be interested in someone nice like that myself?
And while you don’t want to be blatantly mean, you have to confess that you are also thinking that Kelly, Kimberly, Karee, Kiki or whatever the heck her name is has had a lot of dates in the past few months, while you have had none. You don’t want to seem uncharitable, but K---- has had her fair share of eligible men over the past year. You don’t begrudge her for the pain she has gone through as she has endured several broken relationships, but at the same time, you wonder when she is going to take a time out? When will it be your turn? Your turn to be the girl that someone introduces to this great guy they know. And YOU don’t need 5 or 10 referrals sent your way—you’d settle for just one--disaster date or not. Maybe it won't work out as a happily-ever-after like in the fairy tales, but you'd still like to be considered. You'd like to make the list at least.
Well until recently, I didn’t think anyone was paying attention…
Partying with Bono and Flirting with Waiters!
Well, then along came my co-workers. I’ve been in my new job now for nearly a year, and lately, I have been the hot topic of conversation during our lunch breaks and office discussions.
One of my bosses has been teasing me for months about my “secret rendezvous” with celebrities or rock-n-rollers visiting our city. For example, if I come dragging in on a Monday morning, he “accuses” me of partying all night with Bono from U2. And the next week, he’ll swear that he saw me out with Brad Pitt the night before. It’s rather hilarious week-to-week to discover who I am “seeing” that week. [It’s definitely more exciting than what I actually WAS doing that week! AHEM!]
Well, last week, my boss joined me and my regular lunch buddies for a trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant for chimichanga day! [Bring on the queso! WOOHOO!] At the end of the meal, our twenty-something waiter brought out our checks and my boss decided to quiz him for a bit. He’s always asking silly questions, and so I don’t usually pay much attention, but this time was different.
So are you seeing anyone? --- No.
Are you interested in blondes? --- Sure.
And after that, my boss didn’t miss a beat. He quickly turned to me and said, “Hey, Mel, he does like blondes!” And of course, I instantly blushed, which was the point. And who knows what the poor waiter must have been thinking. I must say it was rather hilarious, and ever since, my boss has been talking about it. The story has changed several times. Lately, he recounts how I was flirting and leading on the poor waiter.
Of course, I’ve tried to defend myself and re-tell the story minus the hysteria that my boss has created. Well, one day last week while recounting the “true story” to a fellow coworker, she confessed that she has been pondering introducing me to her son’s friend for a few months now. She’s known him for years, and somehow I’ve come to her mind as a possible match with him.
Now I doubt I’ll ever meet my co-worker’s son’s friend and I even more seriously doubt that the friendly waiter is going to look me up, but that’s not the point. It’s funny that just when we think we are alone in the world, GOD brings along some reminders—some sincere people who are deeply interested in my future, almost more than I am some days. In the midst of the teasing and the laughs, I’ve discovered that I am blessed, and I need to focus on the dear ones around me. They have made me laugh again and see the delight in being single. They’ve been showing me daily how special and exciting life can be, and it’s that rekindling of life in my veins that makes each step just a bit lighter.
What If...
You’re single, and you’re having dinner with some friends and during the course of the evening, they tell you all about this guy they know. I mean they really sell him to you—“He’s a real gentleman, he’s never been married, he’s a writer with a charming British accent and he just won 1st prize in a Clive Owen look-a-like contest…”
So by now, you’re sold. In your head you’re picking out fonts for your wedding invitations and contemplating where to have the rehearsal dinner. [OK, maybe you’re not that far gone, but your curiosity has definitely been piqued!] You’re thinking quietly to yourself, hmmmm…this guy sounds interesting! I wonder how I could arrange to meet him. Do I look like I am too interested in this topic? Am I drooling? You find yourself naturally intrigued, and you’re dying to know more about this mystery man, and besides, your secretly thrilled that your friends decided to tell YOU about him.
And then your dear friends finish their engaging conversation about Mr. Right with: “So do you think he and Kelly would be a good match? I mean we’re hoping to introduce them at our cookout next month. What do you think? She deserves someone nice after her heartbreak over Jason, don’tcha think?”
You politely smile, nod your head and finish chewing your bite. But inside, your heart just let out a gasp, and you wonder why no one heard the sound! There is a complete whirlwind of activity brewing in your mind, and while you don’t want to appear rude or desperate to your friends you have to wonder…Why wouldn’t this man be a match for me? Am I invisible here? Did they forget that I’m single too? Do they ever consider me? Has the thought never crossed their minds that maybe just maybe I might be interested in someone nice like that myself?
And while you don’t want to be blatantly mean, you have to confess that you are also thinking that Kelly, Kimberly, Karee, Kiki or whatever the heck her name is has had a lot of dates in the past few months, while you have had none. You don’t want to seem uncharitable, but K---- has had her fair share of eligible men over the past year. You don’t begrudge her for the pain she has gone through as she has endured several broken relationships, but at the same time, you wonder when she is going to take a time out? When will it be your turn? Your turn to be the girl that someone introduces to this great guy they know. And YOU don’t need 5 or 10 referrals sent your way—you’d settle for just one--disaster date or not. Maybe it won't work out as a happily-ever-after like in the fairy tales, but you'd still like to be considered. You'd like to make the list at least.
Well until recently, I didn’t think anyone was paying attention…
Partying with Bono and Flirting with Waiters!
Well, then along came my co-workers. I’ve been in my new job now for nearly a year, and lately, I have been the hot topic of conversation during our lunch breaks and office discussions.
One of my bosses has been teasing me for months about my “secret rendezvous” with celebrities or rock-n-rollers visiting our city. For example, if I come dragging in on a Monday morning, he “accuses” me of partying all night with Bono from U2. And the next week, he’ll swear that he saw me out with Brad Pitt the night before. It’s rather hilarious week-to-week to discover who I am “seeing” that week. [It’s definitely more exciting than what I actually WAS doing that week! AHEM!]
Well, last week, my boss joined me and my regular lunch buddies for a trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant for chimichanga day! [Bring on the queso! WOOHOO!] At the end of the meal, our twenty-something waiter brought out our checks and my boss decided to quiz him for a bit. He’s always asking silly questions, and so I don’t usually pay much attention, but this time was different.
So are you seeing anyone? --- No.
Are you interested in blondes? --- Sure.
And after that, my boss didn’t miss a beat. He quickly turned to me and said, “Hey, Mel, he does like blondes!” And of course, I instantly blushed, which was the point. And who knows what the poor waiter must have been thinking. I must say it was rather hilarious, and ever since, my boss has been talking about it. The story has changed several times. Lately, he recounts how I was flirting and leading on the poor waiter.
Of course, I’ve tried to defend myself and re-tell the story minus the hysteria that my boss has created. Well, one day last week while recounting the “true story” to a fellow coworker, she confessed that she has been pondering introducing me to her son’s friend for a few months now. She’s known him for years, and somehow I’ve come to her mind as a possible match with him.
Now I doubt I’ll ever meet my co-worker’s son’s friend and I even more seriously doubt that the friendly waiter is going to look me up, but that’s not the point. It’s funny that just when we think we are alone in the world, GOD brings along some reminders—some sincere people who are deeply interested in my future, almost more than I am some days. In the midst of the teasing and the laughs, I’ve discovered that I am blessed, and I need to focus on the dear ones around me. They have made me laugh again and see the delight in being single. They’ve been showing me daily how special and exciting life can be, and it’s that rekindling of life in my veins that makes each step just a bit lighter.
Friday, August 12, 2005
On the Outside Looking in...
We all know what happens when we are on the other side of a glass window looking in, right? We get too close to the pane, and it's starts to fog up with each breath. And suddenly, we aren't really seeing things on the other side very clearly at all. We see a somewhat smudged and foggy representation of life on the other side.
Now, I think we are all a bit fascinated with experiences outside of our own. DUH! We're wired for interaction. We are made for relationships--with GOD and with others, and so it shouldn't be a shock to hear that people are interested in people...this is certainly not a new concept.
What does shock me sometimes in talking with my married co-workers is that just as I am intrigued and yes, slightly envious of their marital bliss, they are just as curious and envious about my single life.
As a single person, I know I tend to look at married life longingly and with more than a bit of a rose-colored aura. The truth is that my idea of marriage is over romanticized! It's like an end all to me. Yes, I can see the lack of validity there. I know that is not the way it is, but yet from the outside looking in, it seems like the most important thing, and I wish so much to have "crossed over" to the other side.
On the flip side, my married co-workers remind me of the realities of marriage. They feel cramped some days having to share their space. They tire of having to think of their other half before making dinner plans or wish to be able to be more spontaneous. I see the wistful looks in their eyes after I return from an impromptu weekend trip with friends or recount the holiday parties I've gone to. In fact one of my co-workers recently announced that she likes to "live vicariously through my experiences." Now, I'm not quite sure what to make of that, but it has gotten me thinking.
We're not so different on either side of that glass window. Both sides want what's on the other side. We singles want the sharing and depth of relationship that comes with marriage, while our married counterparts long for the space and freedom of the single lifestyle.
So when it comes right down to it, it's not so bad being right where I am. Sure, I long for more, but then who doesn't?!?! And finding out that I have more in common with people than I think is a good thing! We're not alone...
Now, I think we are all a bit fascinated with experiences outside of our own. DUH! We're wired for interaction. We are made for relationships--with GOD and with others, and so it shouldn't be a shock to hear that people are interested in people...this is certainly not a new concept.
What does shock me sometimes in talking with my married co-workers is that just as I am intrigued and yes, slightly envious of their marital bliss, they are just as curious and envious about my single life.
As a single person, I know I tend to look at married life longingly and with more than a bit of a rose-colored aura. The truth is that my idea of marriage is over romanticized! It's like an end all to me. Yes, I can see the lack of validity there. I know that is not the way it is, but yet from the outside looking in, it seems like the most important thing, and I wish so much to have "crossed over" to the other side.
On the flip side, my married co-workers remind me of the realities of marriage. They feel cramped some days having to share their space. They tire of having to think of their other half before making dinner plans or wish to be able to be more spontaneous. I see the wistful looks in their eyes after I return from an impromptu weekend trip with friends or recount the holiday parties I've gone to. In fact one of my co-workers recently announced that she likes to "live vicariously through my experiences." Now, I'm not quite sure what to make of that, but it has gotten me thinking.
We're not so different on either side of that glass window. Both sides want what's on the other side. We singles want the sharing and depth of relationship that comes with marriage, while our married counterparts long for the space and freedom of the single lifestyle.
So when it comes right down to it, it's not so bad being right where I am. Sure, I long for more, but then who doesn't?!?! And finding out that I have more in common with people than I think is a good thing! We're not alone...
Friday, July 29, 2005
Just a giggle and a dream...
There are moments that spring upon me—moments where I long to have someone else in my life. Is that selfish? Is that ungrateful to yearn for something more? I don’t think so. It can overtake me and become an obsession. It’s happened before, but today it’s not like that.
I’ve had months of calm tranquility in my life where this discussion of the other has been a sleeping dog, if you will. I haven’t been daily contemplating my singleness or complaining about the lack of men in my life. If anything it’s been quite the opposite. I’ve been oddly enough content and at peace with the solitude and serenity of my situation.
And today it’s no different. I’m not regressing back to 3 years ago. I’m not crying or boohooing my singleton lifestyle. I’m not depressed. It's just that the dream of more is still alive and well in me. I want my own significant other! [Not that everyone already in my life is NOT significant or anything! AHEM!]
Guess it all started earlier this week. I was laughing about something I had written down, and it suddenly came to me: I hope he likes to read and write…whoever he is. And then later as I looked at a friend’s website that displays her accomplishments as a photographer, I contemplated again: Oh I hope he likes pictures! And wouldn’t it be great if he was a photo-nut, too? And then I giggled secretly to myself. No sobs or hysterics. No melancholy brooding. All at once I was keenly aware of how good it felt to be alive in that moment with just a giggle and a dream...
I’ve had months of calm tranquility in my life where this discussion of the other has been a sleeping dog, if you will. I haven’t been daily contemplating my singleness or complaining about the lack of men in my life. If anything it’s been quite the opposite. I’ve been oddly enough content and at peace with the solitude and serenity of my situation.
And today it’s no different. I’m not regressing back to 3 years ago. I’m not crying or boohooing my singleton lifestyle. I’m not depressed. It's just that the dream of more is still alive and well in me. I want my own significant other! [Not that everyone already in my life is NOT significant or anything! AHEM!]
Guess it all started earlier this week. I was laughing about something I had written down, and it suddenly came to me: I hope he likes to read and write…whoever he is. And then later as I looked at a friend’s website that displays her accomplishments as a photographer, I contemplated again: Oh I hope he likes pictures! And wouldn’t it be great if he was a photo-nut, too? And then I giggled secretly to myself. No sobs or hysterics. No melancholy brooding. All at once I was keenly aware of how good it felt to be alive in that moment with just a giggle and a dream...
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
My breath has been taken away...
No, I don't have some big news of my own to share...I've just been thinking about 2 of my dear friends, Angie and Andy, and their big moment of becoming parents. They are in China right now as I write this in the process of adopting a beautiful baby girl, and it's so exciting.
As I read their blog this afternoon and got an update on little Sarah Grace, I got chills and started tearing up. Angie and Andy are 2 of the kindest, most loving and compassionate people I have ever met. [And I'm not just writing this in case they ever read this...they really are inspiring!] I'm so very thrilled for them. I can't help but feel at a loss for words when I contemplate how exciting it must be for them to be able to hold this dear cuddly little soul that they have inherited from a gracious, loving heavenly FATHER that knew exactly what child to place in their hearts and home! They've been praying for this moment, preparing for this entry into parenthood, and now here it is. GOD has been faithful yet again!
I'm awestruck and so excited...what a joy! [Enough said!]
Monday, July 18, 2005
There’s just something magical about weddings!
It’s hard not to smile when you see how happy the bride is, and when you catch the groom adoringly admiring the bride or hear him retelling their story, it’s simply delightful. But being a single 30-something female without a man or even the potential of a man does tend to taint that blissful view. More and more, I find that I both love and loathe weddings!
When I attend a wedding, I’m safe for an hour or 2—just enough time to catch the wedding and spend a short time at the reception—that I can handle, but after that, I can’t take it anymore. I’m done…doesn’t actually diminish my happiness for the bride and groom. I’m thrilled for them, but after a couple of hours, I personally crash.
To me weddings are both hope and pain. It’s exciting to see another couple joined in holy matrimony. Just watching them pledge their love for one another gives me just a wee bit of hope that maybe there really is someone special ahead for me as well. Not that my current life isn’t satisfying just the way it is, but there is still that GOD-given longing to share my life with someone. And so for a brief while, something stirs inside of me and revives that feeling and sensation of excitement and anticipation that “it could still happen.” It’s as if I have wings, and it’s all right to dream again.
But once the wedding is all over, I return back to the real world, and I crash down from that pinnacle of hope. The post-wedding blues arrive and suddenly that earlier “high” transforms into something dark and morbid. The hope is replaced with despair and anxiety! Where once was confidence, fear has taken over, and I’m longing to be anywhere but there, and so I leave. I mentally check out and return to my own little life.
I guess weddings cause me to face my greatest fear—that of being alone. To those who know me, this may sound like a contradiction since I claim to love being alone and enjoy my solitude perhaps more than I should. But maybe it’s all a sham. Perhaps I shut myself in to keep hope out and to prevent myself from longing for more than I already have. For where there is hope, there is also the opportunity for pain…
When I attend a wedding, I’m safe for an hour or 2—just enough time to catch the wedding and spend a short time at the reception—that I can handle, but after that, I can’t take it anymore. I’m done…doesn’t actually diminish my happiness for the bride and groom. I’m thrilled for them, but after a couple of hours, I personally crash.
To me weddings are both hope and pain. It’s exciting to see another couple joined in holy matrimony. Just watching them pledge their love for one another gives me just a wee bit of hope that maybe there really is someone special ahead for me as well. Not that my current life isn’t satisfying just the way it is, but there is still that GOD-given longing to share my life with someone. And so for a brief while, something stirs inside of me and revives that feeling and sensation of excitement and anticipation that “it could still happen.” It’s as if I have wings, and it’s all right to dream again.
But once the wedding is all over, I return back to the real world, and I crash down from that pinnacle of hope. The post-wedding blues arrive and suddenly that earlier “high” transforms into something dark and morbid. The hope is replaced with despair and anxiety! Where once was confidence, fear has taken over, and I’m longing to be anywhere but there, and so I leave. I mentally check out and return to my own little life.
I guess weddings cause me to face my greatest fear—that of being alone. To those who know me, this may sound like a contradiction since I claim to love being alone and enjoy my solitude perhaps more than I should. But maybe it’s all a sham. Perhaps I shut myself in to keep hope out and to prevent myself from longing for more than I already have. For where there is hope, there is also the opportunity for pain…
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
I have this friend...
And he has a magnetic personality. He really does. People seem to be naturally drawn to him. I have several friends that regularly confide in him. He has become one of their main sources of advice. They turn to him for consolation and comfort regarding relationships, employment struggles, family stuff, etc. And while I am glad for their sakes that he fills that role in their lives, he and I just don't mesh like that. I don't feel the need to confide in him or share anything deeply personal with him. I guess you could say that I don't share much of anything with him at all.
Truth is, we're not really all that good of friends at all. I'd like to say that we're opposites and that's why we just don't click like others do, but I think the truth is that we're more alike than we are different. Both of us like to be needed.
Just as he likes to be the person that people turn to when they need someone to talk and listen, I like to be doing something, anything to feel needed. I am at my best when I feel that I'm participating in the lives of those around me--whether I'm listening to a friend sharing or volunteering to tackle a project. It's all the same. He and I like to be needed, to be contributing members of society.
But since we are both busy filling that role of service in others lives, we don't need each other. It's almost as if we've entered some competition with each other, and it's rather odd. On more than one occasion, I've wondered if he resents me in some way, and I've concluded that he does. Just as I think I tend to bait him and provoke him, too.
Since I don't share with him or confide in him all my dark secrets, he sums me up as less than I am. I don't need his services, thus I'm merely taking up oxygen. He sees me as a prude. I bore him. I'm too innocent, too self-righteous to suit him, and so he strives to make me uncomfortable in his presence so that I'll leave his space. He tries to embarrass me and make himself appear superior. You see, he thinks he knows me. He thinks he sees all there is to see, but he doesn't.
I'm secretly amused at his taunting antics and mind games. In fact I tend to be the prude in his presence just to get on his nerves. When I'm with him, I rarely speak my mind or talk much at all. I play my part well and become exactly what he thinks I am. I guess on some playing field, it helps me feel in control of the situation. It makes me feel better to know that he doesn't see the real me and that I control what he does see.
Rather sad, isn't it...We're quite the pathetic pair! I guess it's smart to own up to what is really going on. We will probably never be the best of friends, but there is no reason we can't collaborate together more.
Hopefully it's not too late to teach 2 old dogs a couple of new tricks!
Truth is, we're not really all that good of friends at all. I'd like to say that we're opposites and that's why we just don't click like others do, but I think the truth is that we're more alike than we are different. Both of us like to be needed.
Just as he likes to be the person that people turn to when they need someone to talk and listen, I like to be doing something, anything to feel needed. I am at my best when I feel that I'm participating in the lives of those around me--whether I'm listening to a friend sharing or volunteering to tackle a project. It's all the same. He and I like to be needed, to be contributing members of society.
But since we are both busy filling that role of service in others lives, we don't need each other. It's almost as if we've entered some competition with each other, and it's rather odd. On more than one occasion, I've wondered if he resents me in some way, and I've concluded that he does. Just as I think I tend to bait him and provoke him, too.
Since I don't share with him or confide in him all my dark secrets, he sums me up as less than I am. I don't need his services, thus I'm merely taking up oxygen. He sees me as a prude. I bore him. I'm too innocent, too self-righteous to suit him, and so he strives to make me uncomfortable in his presence so that I'll leave his space. He tries to embarrass me and make himself appear superior. You see, he thinks he knows me. He thinks he sees all there is to see, but he doesn't.
I'm secretly amused at his taunting antics and mind games. In fact I tend to be the prude in his presence just to get on his nerves. When I'm with him, I rarely speak my mind or talk much at all. I play my part well and become exactly what he thinks I am. I guess on some playing field, it helps me feel in control of the situation. It makes me feel better to know that he doesn't see the real me and that I control what he does see.
Rather sad, isn't it...We're quite the pathetic pair! I guess it's smart to own up to what is really going on. We will probably never be the best of friends, but there is no reason we can't collaborate together more.
Hopefully it's not too late to teach 2 old dogs a couple of new tricks!
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
A cell phone? Nah! I don't think so...
I'm considering getting my phone disconnected or my phone number changed or something. My phone has been ringing a lot lately, and now I've completely stopped answering my phone period. [So if you call, please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.] I'm sure people have valid reasons for calling, but they aren't leaving messages, and I just figure that if it is important, they will leave a message. And since my phone has been ringing and ringing a lot lately, I’m trying to keep my sanity level stable!
Why is it that people don’t like answering machines or voice mail anyway? I don’t get it. I love both. But then I’d much prefer an email or writing someone a letter or actually being face to face with someone over a phone conversation. So phone mail messages work well for me. It’s quick, easy and to-the-point. I like that.
It’s not that I hate talking on the phone. It’s just that I'm in a creative phase right now (i.e. my living room floor is once again covered with card layouts, papers, etc.) And like other creative types will tell you, it’s hard to stop the creative juices to take a phone call. I can’t do it. I’ll lose my train of thought. And since, it's not every day that I have this creative buzz going on, I like to work while I feel this good about it.
I'm sure part of this is a selfish impulse and the old hermit drive that is alive and well in my spirit. I can't deny that THAT is part of me. I love being on my own. I really do. I arrive home at night and cry “SANCTUARY.” I try to relax and unwind after a long tasking day only to be inundated with phone calls….not all that different from what I experienced all day at work. So forgive me if I don’t pick up your call or if I delay at calling you back. I’m OK. I’m not depressed. I just need space!
I'm not hiding away. I'm back volunteering at the IMA, volunteering at my church this spring and summer and getting involved once again with my singles group, etc. I'm very active right now. I'm stretching myself out again with other things. And so it would be wrong to say that I’ve become a complete hermit that is avoiding people. That’s just not true! The reality is that I’m reemerging from my cocoon and adjusting to my new wings. But like all butterflies, I need space to fly. And this butterfly [or moth, if you will] just needs some time on her own, too. We all do.
I'm feeling content again for the first time in a few months, and I’m happy with who I am and where I am. And I'm not quite sure how to get that message across without hurting people...is it not a good thing to be content alone? Why must it always be considered selfish?
Yes, "no man is an island." I get that. I must interact with others, and believe me when I say that I’m getting plenty of interaction with other people. I’m rarely alone these days. But when I do have a moment to myself, I've stopped trying to fill it with busy activities to pass away the time. I’m just learning to once again enjoy those rare moments of solitude. After all, we are each responsible for our own happiness. I can’t live off the happiness of others alone. I have to make my own, too. And this is me happy!
So, I think the whole cell phone idea is moot. I mean I don’t like to be interrupted now as it is. Imagine if I had a cell phone…it would only be worse. Maybe some of the pleasures of being unavailable are lost on some people, but not all of us want to be found all the time!
Why is it that people don’t like answering machines or voice mail anyway? I don’t get it. I love both. But then I’d much prefer an email or writing someone a letter or actually being face to face with someone over a phone conversation. So phone mail messages work well for me. It’s quick, easy and to-the-point. I like that.
It’s not that I hate talking on the phone. It’s just that I'm in a creative phase right now (i.e. my living room floor is once again covered with card layouts, papers, etc.) And like other creative types will tell you, it’s hard to stop the creative juices to take a phone call. I can’t do it. I’ll lose my train of thought. And since, it's not every day that I have this creative buzz going on, I like to work while I feel this good about it.
I'm sure part of this is a selfish impulse and the old hermit drive that is alive and well in my spirit. I can't deny that THAT is part of me. I love being on my own. I really do. I arrive home at night and cry “SANCTUARY.” I try to relax and unwind after a long tasking day only to be inundated with phone calls….not all that different from what I experienced all day at work. So forgive me if I don’t pick up your call or if I delay at calling you back. I’m OK. I’m not depressed. I just need space!
I'm not hiding away. I'm back volunteering at the IMA, volunteering at my church this spring and summer and getting involved once again with my singles group, etc. I'm very active right now. I'm stretching myself out again with other things. And so it would be wrong to say that I’ve become a complete hermit that is avoiding people. That’s just not true! The reality is that I’m reemerging from my cocoon and adjusting to my new wings. But like all butterflies, I need space to fly. And this butterfly [or moth, if you will] just needs some time on her own, too. We all do.
I'm feeling content again for the first time in a few months, and I’m happy with who I am and where I am. And I'm not quite sure how to get that message across without hurting people...is it not a good thing to be content alone? Why must it always be considered selfish?
Yes, "no man is an island." I get that. I must interact with others, and believe me when I say that I’m getting plenty of interaction with other people. I’m rarely alone these days. But when I do have a moment to myself, I've stopped trying to fill it with busy activities to pass away the time. I’m just learning to once again enjoy those rare moments of solitude. After all, we are each responsible for our own happiness. I can’t live off the happiness of others alone. I have to make my own, too. And this is me happy!
So, I think the whole cell phone idea is moot. I mean I don’t like to be interrupted now as it is. Imagine if I had a cell phone…it would only be worse. Maybe some of the pleasures of being unavailable are lost on some people, but not all of us want to be found all the time!
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
The Quick Scan and See...
I call it the quick scan and see. It’s that initial sight check to determine if there is a significant other [better stated: does the man have a ring on his left hand?] And I’ve been catching myself “checking” more often lately, and I’m not quite sure why.
Maybe it’s a rise in hormones—an insurgence in estrogen or some other hormone that has me more keenly interested in scoping out the current stats of males I encounter. Or maybe it’s that biological clock that is tick-tocking as I write this! Time is running out on my body, and I know it. Or perhaps it’s just simply a change of venue—I’m working at a bigger company now, and I’m encountering more people every day, and it’s just that environment change that has me noticing more. Or maybe it’s just something else! Whatever the reason for the growth in my “quick scan and see” scoping, it has me laughing!
I’m single and I’d like to be married. [There I said it. WHEW! What a load off my mind!!] So when I meet people, it’s natural for me to be curious about their marital state…especially if they are interesting. The trouble is that lately I think EVERY ONE is interesting!
Maybe he has an awesome laugh, a winsome nature, and an incredible smile that catches me off guard!
Maybe he’s more of a loner, off by himself during lunch and pensively deep in thought and I wonder what keeps him so occupied!
Maybe he’s a brilliant scientist that reminds me of an absent-minded professor--in need of a serious over-haul on his wardrobe and schedule, but so incredibly smart that it's hard not to be intrigued!
Or maybe one random day 2 months back, he sat and talked to me for 10 minutes while I was sitting on my own, and I can’t seem to help wondering more about him. What makes him tick, what does he like, what makes him laugh, what are his hopes and dreams, does he like chocolate or vanilla? [Oops!! I launched from hypothetical to reality there. AHEM!]
To sum up, I’m finding lots of people to be interested in, and I’m feeling a bit unfocused at the moment. Some days I drift away from the lunch table repartee as I scope out the room or look for a somewhat familiar face. Often my patient co-workers catch me and retrieve me back to the subject at hand with a laugh.
And it is comical, I admit. I suppose I could be making better use of my time some days rather than always scoping for that special someone, but at least I admit that this is where I am at, and that has to count for something.
Maybe it’s a rise in hormones—an insurgence in estrogen or some other hormone that has me more keenly interested in scoping out the current stats of males I encounter. Or maybe it’s that biological clock that is tick-tocking as I write this! Time is running out on my body, and I know it. Or perhaps it’s just simply a change of venue—I’m working at a bigger company now, and I’m encountering more people every day, and it’s just that environment change that has me noticing more. Or maybe it’s just something else! Whatever the reason for the growth in my “quick scan and see” scoping, it has me laughing!
I’m single and I’d like to be married. [There I said it. WHEW! What a load off my mind!!] So when I meet people, it’s natural for me to be curious about their marital state…especially if they are interesting. The trouble is that lately I think EVERY ONE is interesting!
Maybe he has an awesome laugh, a winsome nature, and an incredible smile that catches me off guard!
Maybe he’s more of a loner, off by himself during lunch and pensively deep in thought and I wonder what keeps him so occupied!
Maybe he’s a brilliant scientist that reminds me of an absent-minded professor--in need of a serious over-haul on his wardrobe and schedule, but so incredibly smart that it's hard not to be intrigued!
Or maybe one random day 2 months back, he sat and talked to me for 10 minutes while I was sitting on my own, and I can’t seem to help wondering more about him. What makes him tick, what does he like, what makes him laugh, what are his hopes and dreams, does he like chocolate or vanilla? [Oops!! I launched from hypothetical to reality there. AHEM!]
To sum up, I’m finding lots of people to be interested in, and I’m feeling a bit unfocused at the moment. Some days I drift away from the lunch table repartee as I scope out the room or look for a somewhat familiar face. Often my patient co-workers catch me and retrieve me back to the subject at hand with a laugh.
And it is comical, I admit. I suppose I could be making better use of my time some days rather than always scoping for that special someone, but at least I admit that this is where I am at, and that has to count for something.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Organized Spontaneity...it's possible, right?
I’ve been musing lately about my organizational skills. I’m so organized with my bills—what is due, when to pay, etc.; I’ve got a monthly plan of what to recorder on my VCR; and I usually have to schedule getting together with friends days or weeks in advance. I just like to plan in advance. People laugh at me, but I’m not a naturally spontaneous girl. Spontaneity to me means arranging plans the week of an event! I’m wired for a schedule.
I think I’ve always been a bit of an organized anal freak in some sort of fashion…whether it meant sorting my jelly beans and eating them alphabetically by color, arranging my closet by color with sections for dress or casual wear, or creating a comprehensive alphabetic list of all my DVDs and videos…I like to have things in order. I’m not quite OCD about it, but there is some potential for it.
However, the one thing I can't seem to organize is my personal life—as in planning for marriage! No matter how hard I try, there’s not a lot I can ahead of time. I mean, realistically how much planning can a single woman do on the subject? I mean if there isn’t even a man in the picture, I don’t have any business picking out the ring. And without a ring, I really shouldn’t have my bridesmaids lined up yet and be setting a date. And without a date, I really shouldn’t be reserving the church and talking over the menu with a caterer. So see, there’s not a lot I can do now, and that fact sometimes irks me. I can’t even plan on it happening!
I was joking with a friend recently that I’ve been on a card-making craze lately. Seriously, I’ve made over 300 homemade greeting cards in the past month, and with no end in sight (since I am still really enjoying my work on them), I told her that I was going to start working on my wedding Thank You cards now. After all, I have the time to make them now and wouldn’t it save me and my future mate money when the time comes?!? And since I think it might be a bit much to start working on my wedding invitations instead, I joked that starting on making thank you cards was more practical! I’m sure she just thought I was nuts!
But it’s a real fact of my life! I joke about it, but the truth is that there isn’t any sign of a man in my life. And sometimes, I’m curious what to do about it. I mean what is a single girl to do? Where is that line in the sand between doing too much to secure your own happiness and letting GOD work it out for you? And without seeing the future and what lies ahead, it’s hard some days for a planning girl to know what to do! But I think I’m starting to see past it now…
In my mid to late twenties, I was still in what I call my “what-if” stage. I’d make plans with people, schedule vacations, etc. but in the back of my mind, a little voice would be saying: “I can make those plans, but if something better comes along, I can change my plans…” Well, those days are gone now! I’ve become far more independent. I’m less dependent on the what-ifs or the possibilities of what could happen. I schedule days, weeks and sometimes months in advance for the real people that are all around me. I’m interacting with them all the time. And should that someone special enter my life, I’m hoping I still have room for him because I won’t be breaking my weekend get-away with girlfriends or canceling all my other plans just because he exists.
I guess I’ve stopped pretending with my self that I need to leave space for him to fit in should he ever see fit to come upon the scene. I’m filling that space up! And if he does come along, he’ll find me living a full life. That doesn’t mean that there won’t be space for him at all. He’ll just be another part of my life…a part I am still hoping for, but not an empty space that I’m reserving should he ever arrive. I’m through holding a seat for him when there is so much more I could be doing! There are some things you can’t be ready for…some things that are still going to catch you off guard. And as an over-planner, it kills me that I can’t have all my ducks in a row for my future. But then, nothing outside of GOD’s love is really certain anyway.
And while I’m still that anal retentive girl that does plan months in advance, I think I’m softening a little...a very little maybe. I’ll never be a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants girl. Not gonna happen! But some days, I’m open to throwing aside my organized life and running out the door, camera in hand, ready to explore my world.
Am I ready to completely give up my organized life for some carefree mayhem? Will I toss my calendar aside for a maintenance-free lifestyle? NAH! Don't hold your breath!
However, I am going to plan for some spontaneity now and then and see what happens!
I think I’ve always been a bit of an organized anal freak in some sort of fashion…whether it meant sorting my jelly beans and eating them alphabetically by color, arranging my closet by color with sections for dress or casual wear, or creating a comprehensive alphabetic list of all my DVDs and videos…I like to have things in order. I’m not quite OCD about it, but there is some potential for it.
However, the one thing I can't seem to organize is my personal life—as in planning for marriage! No matter how hard I try, there’s not a lot I can ahead of time. I mean, realistically how much planning can a single woman do on the subject? I mean if there isn’t even a man in the picture, I don’t have any business picking out the ring. And without a ring, I really shouldn’t have my bridesmaids lined up yet and be setting a date. And without a date, I really shouldn’t be reserving the church and talking over the menu with a caterer. So see, there’s not a lot I can do now, and that fact sometimes irks me. I can’t even plan on it happening!
I was joking with a friend recently that I’ve been on a card-making craze lately. Seriously, I’ve made over 300 homemade greeting cards in the past month, and with no end in sight (since I am still really enjoying my work on them), I told her that I was going to start working on my wedding Thank You cards now. After all, I have the time to make them now and wouldn’t it save me and my future mate money when the time comes?!? And since I think it might be a bit much to start working on my wedding invitations instead, I joked that starting on making thank you cards was more practical! I’m sure she just thought I was nuts!
But it’s a real fact of my life! I joke about it, but the truth is that there isn’t any sign of a man in my life. And sometimes, I’m curious what to do about it. I mean what is a single girl to do? Where is that line in the sand between doing too much to secure your own happiness and letting GOD work it out for you? And without seeing the future and what lies ahead, it’s hard some days for a planning girl to know what to do! But I think I’m starting to see past it now…
In my mid to late twenties, I was still in what I call my “what-if” stage. I’d make plans with people, schedule vacations, etc. but in the back of my mind, a little voice would be saying: “I can make those plans, but if something better comes along, I can change my plans…” Well, those days are gone now! I’ve become far more independent. I’m less dependent on the what-ifs or the possibilities of what could happen. I schedule days, weeks and sometimes months in advance for the real people that are all around me. I’m interacting with them all the time. And should that someone special enter my life, I’m hoping I still have room for him because I won’t be breaking my weekend get-away with girlfriends or canceling all my other plans just because he exists.
I guess I’ve stopped pretending with my self that I need to leave space for him to fit in should he ever see fit to come upon the scene. I’m filling that space up! And if he does come along, he’ll find me living a full life. That doesn’t mean that there won’t be space for him at all. He’ll just be another part of my life…a part I am still hoping for, but not an empty space that I’m reserving should he ever arrive. I’m through holding a seat for him when there is so much more I could be doing! There are some things you can’t be ready for…some things that are still going to catch you off guard. And as an over-planner, it kills me that I can’t have all my ducks in a row for my future. But then, nothing outside of GOD’s love is really certain anyway.
And while I’m still that anal retentive girl that does plan months in advance, I think I’m softening a little...a very little maybe. I’ll never be a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants girl. Not gonna happen! But some days, I’m open to throwing aside my organized life and running out the door, camera in hand, ready to explore my world.
Am I ready to completely give up my organized life for some carefree mayhem? Will I toss my calendar aside for a maintenance-free lifestyle? NAH! Don't hold your breath!
However, I am going to plan for some spontaneity now and then and see what happens!
Monday, February 14, 2005
My Life as a Chic Flick!
There's an old family joke about me. I don't remember actually when it started or what set it off as a comedic precedent, but I must have remarked somewhere along my journey that my life was so much like a movie.
I guess it has to do with my analytical brain. I tend to take every novel, every poem, every movie, every TV episode and apply it to my life. It's not a big deal except when I get obsessed like I have a tendency to do and over-analyze a film. Such was the case with Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea and Dead Poets Society. Those are 3 films that come to mind from my high school days...and are probably related to the family joke.
The truth is that I continue to analyze films and novels every day. I keep a journal of good quotes...a bit odd perhaps, but I love a good line and if I watch a thought provoking film or read a brillian novel, I'll progressively think it through for days. Guess words really are my ON button! And in all actuality, I'm probably not all that different from most people...I just get more carried away with it. I can't turn my brain off sometimes, and it keeps me up late at night as I continue to delve deeper and deeper.
All of us can't help but see things through our own lenses. Every film, every TV episode, everything ever written whether prose or poetry is filtered through each person differently...that is unless we have managed to become mindless and merely flip through what we watch or read with little internalization, but even that person is still filtering what they see or hear in one form or another. Refusing to think on something deeper is still a filter! And so while one person gleans one thing from a sonnet, another person can gain something different upon hearing the same verse.
And so now, back to the present, I've watched a couple of films recently and have pulled out my favorite bits and clung to them. One line from The Wedding Date struck me with it's incredible emotion.
"I'd miss you even if we'd never met."
Ironic and poignant isn't it? I love that line. It brought to heart my recent blog about how I'm longing to share with my own special someone. It summed up what I had to use 500+ words to say...I miss him. I don't know him, I doubt we've ever met, but I miss him all the same! It is possible to miss someone you haven't met...
In I Capture the Castle, a British film I purchased, the young heroine ends the film with a reflective thought...
"I love. I have loved. I will love."
I think its a beautiful line that sums up deliciously the cycles of the human spirit. A delicate hope of more to come without lingering in the past or ignoring the present. I like that.
Today is Valentine's Day, aka Single Awareness Day or S.A.D. I think I took this day off as a sick day last year...and rightly so, what else should a single girl over 30 do on the one day of the year where people are celebrating what I am lacking? But the truth is, I'm not lacking it and this year, I'm feeling better about the whole thing. I have wonderful co-workers that are helping me finish off my chocolate stash and get all the sugar out of my house. I have a darling sister that sent me a lovely card to remind me that I am loved. And I spent my Saturday night before V-day with some of my dearest girlfriends in the world. We laughed and cried together over chic flicks and inhaled more sugar than 1 person should have in a year, but it was all good. I'm blessed. I truly am.
So today I'm at work. There's a whole week ahead of me. And while I can't see tomorrow and don't know if there is a man on the horizon, I see today as it is...a day of love. A day to show love to others and to be reminded of those in my life that I love and am loved by.
I love. I have loved. And I WILL KEEP loving.
I guess it has to do with my analytical brain. I tend to take every novel, every poem, every movie, every TV episode and apply it to my life. It's not a big deal except when I get obsessed like I have a tendency to do and over-analyze a film. Such was the case with Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea and Dead Poets Society. Those are 3 films that come to mind from my high school days...and are probably related to the family joke.
The truth is that I continue to analyze films and novels every day. I keep a journal of good quotes...a bit odd perhaps, but I love a good line and if I watch a thought provoking film or read a brillian novel, I'll progressively think it through for days. Guess words really are my ON button! And in all actuality, I'm probably not all that different from most people...I just get more carried away with it. I can't turn my brain off sometimes, and it keeps me up late at night as I continue to delve deeper and deeper.
All of us can't help but see things through our own lenses. Every film, every TV episode, everything ever written whether prose or poetry is filtered through each person differently...that is unless we have managed to become mindless and merely flip through what we watch or read with little internalization, but even that person is still filtering what they see or hear in one form or another. Refusing to think on something deeper is still a filter! And so while one person gleans one thing from a sonnet, another person can gain something different upon hearing the same verse.
And so now, back to the present, I've watched a couple of films recently and have pulled out my favorite bits and clung to them. One line from The Wedding Date struck me with it's incredible emotion.
"I'd miss you even if we'd never met."
Ironic and poignant isn't it? I love that line. It brought to heart my recent blog about how I'm longing to share with my own special someone. It summed up what I had to use 500+ words to say...I miss him. I don't know him, I doubt we've ever met, but I miss him all the same! It is possible to miss someone you haven't met...
In I Capture the Castle, a British film I purchased, the young heroine ends the film with a reflective thought...
"I love. I have loved. I will love."
I think its a beautiful line that sums up deliciously the cycles of the human spirit. A delicate hope of more to come without lingering in the past or ignoring the present. I like that.
Today is Valentine's Day, aka Single Awareness Day or S.A.D. I think I took this day off as a sick day last year...and rightly so, what else should a single girl over 30 do on the one day of the year where people are celebrating what I am lacking? But the truth is, I'm not lacking it and this year, I'm feeling better about the whole thing. I have wonderful co-workers that are helping me finish off my chocolate stash and get all the sugar out of my house. I have a darling sister that sent me a lovely card to remind me that I am loved. And I spent my Saturday night before V-day with some of my dearest girlfriends in the world. We laughed and cried together over chic flicks and inhaled more sugar than 1 person should have in a year, but it was all good. I'm blessed. I truly am.
So today I'm at work. There's a whole week ahead of me. And while I can't see tomorrow and don't know if there is a man on the horizon, I see today as it is...a day of love. A day to show love to others and to be reminded of those in my life that I love and am loved by.
I love. I have loved. And I WILL KEEP loving.
Friday, February 4, 2005
Is It Time To Share Yet...
I've asked friends before if they are dying to share stuff with their future spouse. And the reaction I usually get is rather comical! I think they instantly question my sanity. I don't mean it to be a reflection of madness, but apparently, it hints at my delusional state or something.
That doesn't change my desire. I still long to share with him. In college, I started a journal for him to read, but I wasn't very good at keeping it up. I guess to me, Communication is vital! I want to be known deeply by that special someone. And I don't mean that we will have regular discussions on Nietzsche or Voltaire...I just mean that I want a relationship of mutual sharing. I want to find a kindred spirit that I can share my life with.
Thus there are moments, and I confess that I have a lot of them, where I am eager to share with him. Some days, I'm bursting at the seams to recount a humorous moment in my day, to give him the 4-1-1 on a person he hasn't met yet, to discuss my favorite ice cream, etc. Maybe that sounds warped, but it's not really a need to talk about myself as much as it is an eagerness to share myself with someone. I'm eager to share my memories, my dreams, my thoughts and just as anxious to hear his!
I've been blessed with several incredible friendships over the years. One with the person nearest and dearest to my heart--my sister. If any ONE person really knows the real me--my sister does. She has seen me at my best and worst. She has heard nearly every story there is to tell. She's listened patiently to the drama of my life unfold. I'm so thankful for her presence in my life, and me wanting to share with someone other, doesn't take away from that communion of spirit and openness in my relationship with her. I simply want my own other self!
The longing to share builds when I go home to Michigan or spend time with my family. I have watched in amusement as my sister showed her husband Jonathan all her old haunts--the Lexington pier, the Swinging Bridge, the pen aisle at Ben Franklin's, the chunk missing from the foundation of our house [AHEM!], etc.
I long to do the same. I want to introduce him to the Croswell Stockyards, walk with him along the Blue Water Bridge, take him out for a bike ride around my old neighborhood. I want to introduce him to my family--see him laugh with my sister, play games with my nieces and nephews, and listen thoughtfully to my Mom. I want to share my favorite spots in Indianapolis with him--take walks through the historic district, stroll through Holliday park, tour the Indianapolis Museum of Art and wander through the gardens there. I'm a simple girl. I don't need a lot. I just want to share my life with someone else!
I want to hear his stories, too. I want to know what it was like for him growing up, who his first crush was, what his favorite place to visit is, etc. I want to meet his family, see his hometown, and visit his favorite places. It's not an obsession with the past, but more of a thirst for knowledge. Your past is your past...but it has also shaped who you are now and who you are growing into. I want to hear about him!
When it comes to photos, I imagine that I'm probably going to scare the poor man should he ever come upon the scene. I'll be so ready to share that I'll freak him out. Here's my babybook. Here's the book from my weekend in DC. Here's book 1 of 3 from my week long vacation in Charleston, etc. I love my photo albums, and I think it's rather obvious that I enjoy putting them together. They are definitely something I do for me! But sometimes, I'm just as eager to share them with him. I want to explain the story behind a silly snapshot, to point out how this person or that person is connected to me, to describe what was happening in the scene, etc.
And so I continue on my journey--reveling in the happy moments of the present, chronicling the travels of my past, and occasionally letting myself dream of the future. It's my hope to share the past, present and future with him. I just hope he arrives soon before the madness takes me completely over...
That doesn't change my desire. I still long to share with him. In college, I started a journal for him to read, but I wasn't very good at keeping it up. I guess to me, Communication is vital! I want to be known deeply by that special someone. And I don't mean that we will have regular discussions on Nietzsche or Voltaire...I just mean that I want a relationship of mutual sharing. I want to find a kindred spirit that I can share my life with.
Thus there are moments, and I confess that I have a lot of them, where I am eager to share with him. Some days, I'm bursting at the seams to recount a humorous moment in my day, to give him the 4-1-1 on a person he hasn't met yet, to discuss my favorite ice cream, etc. Maybe that sounds warped, but it's not really a need to talk about myself as much as it is an eagerness to share myself with someone. I'm eager to share my memories, my dreams, my thoughts and just as anxious to hear his!
I've been blessed with several incredible friendships over the years. One with the person nearest and dearest to my heart--my sister. If any ONE person really knows the real me--my sister does. She has seen me at my best and worst. She has heard nearly every story there is to tell. She's listened patiently to the drama of my life unfold. I'm so thankful for her presence in my life, and me wanting to share with someone other, doesn't take away from that communion of spirit and openness in my relationship with her. I simply want my own other self!
The longing to share builds when I go home to Michigan or spend time with my family. I have watched in amusement as my sister showed her husband Jonathan all her old haunts--the Lexington pier, the Swinging Bridge, the pen aisle at Ben Franklin's, the chunk missing from the foundation of our house [AHEM!], etc.
I long to do the same. I want to introduce him to the Croswell Stockyards, walk with him along the Blue Water Bridge, take him out for a bike ride around my old neighborhood. I want to introduce him to my family--see him laugh with my sister, play games with my nieces and nephews, and listen thoughtfully to my Mom. I want to share my favorite spots in Indianapolis with him--take walks through the historic district, stroll through Holliday park, tour the Indianapolis Museum of Art and wander through the gardens there. I'm a simple girl. I don't need a lot. I just want to share my life with someone else!
I want to hear his stories, too. I want to know what it was like for him growing up, who his first crush was, what his favorite place to visit is, etc. I want to meet his family, see his hometown, and visit his favorite places. It's not an obsession with the past, but more of a thirst for knowledge. Your past is your past...but it has also shaped who you are now and who you are growing into. I want to hear about him!
When it comes to photos, I imagine that I'm probably going to scare the poor man should he ever come upon the scene. I'll be so ready to share that I'll freak him out. Here's my babybook. Here's the book from my weekend in DC. Here's book 1 of 3 from my week long vacation in Charleston, etc. I love my photo albums, and I think it's rather obvious that I enjoy putting them together. They are definitely something I do for me! But sometimes, I'm just as eager to share them with him. I want to explain the story behind a silly snapshot, to point out how this person or that person is connected to me, to describe what was happening in the scene, etc.
And so I continue on my journey--reveling in the happy moments of the present, chronicling the travels of my past, and occasionally letting myself dream of the future. It's my hope to share the past, present and future with him. I just hope he arrives soon before the madness takes me completely over...
Thursday, January 13, 2005
How do YOU like your eggs?
I shocked a friend recently when I told her that I didn’t have a list--a list of what I was looking for in a potential mate. It’s not the first time that I’ve caught friends off guard by revealing my lack of planning in the area of dating. I mean some girls just seem to know what they want...
He needs to be so tall, have X amount of money, be a gentleman, etc....
And while I can appreciate their willingness to list out the qualities they are looking for, I’m not so much into pinpointing exactly what captures my heart maybe because I actually just don’t know. I guess my philosophy is simply that I’ll know what’s for me and what’s not for me when it happens, and that’s been what I’ve been living by. It’s the ONE thing I’m spontaneous about. Me--the ultimate planner, the organized freak, the detail queen--I’ve just been sitting back on this one. I guess this is one area of my life that I don’t seem to be completely in control over, and I’ve certainly never written down a LIST. It’s too risky.
I fear putting it down on paper. Seeing my thoughts on paper like that would taunt me. I’d have to face who I am and what I want, and that seems to be constantly changing! So why make a list? What was attractive yesterday might be repulsive tomorrow! And should someone come into my life, I don’t want to cut him out instantly because he doesn’t fit into my 12-point checklist. Yes, I believe that there are things that you can’t waiver on--such as faith and relationships with GOD, a person's overall character, and other foundational things like that. But as for the rest, I’m afraid to think about it too much. I guess you could call me a cynical idealist. I believe that the ideals in my head can exist but ONLY in my head. Once on paper, they diminish rather quickly and somebody else’s list starts to look even better than my own.
Runaway Bride haunts me! Julia Roberts’s character in the movie tends to change who she is and what she likes with the man she is dating or rather leaving at the altar. Richard Gere’s character confronts her about eggs and how she has changed her favorite style of eggs with each man she has been involved with. He challenges her to take a deep look at herself and determine who she is on her own before she can define what she likes and dislikes. I can see lots of truth in that, and I’ve thought about it more than I care to recount.
Now for me, there hasn’t been all that much chance for experimentation on eggs. My dating life has pretty much been non-existent. There have been a few dates here and there, but I’ve never seriously dated. Never really been in what I would call a relationship! I’ve had as many as 3 dates with the same guy, but all my dating “attempts” have had one thing in common. Every guy that has come into my life has been looking for someone else. Oh, a couple of them have thought I WAS that someone else, but I wasn’t, and I knew it right away before they did, and so it didn’t go anywhere.
And so I guess you could say that I don’t exactly know how I like my eggs! [OK, actually, the eggs, I have down. Fried, over hard, don’t break the yokes, a little bit of salt and pepper, and it’s all good!] But with guys, I don’t know exactly what floats my boat.
My ideal changes too often. I can’t decide whether he should be tall or short, thin or bulky, bearded or bald, type-A or melancholy, aggressive or complacent. He’s Vin Diesel one day--the eye candy tough guy with a softer side if you just get to know him better. He’s Bill Murray the next day--not a lot to look at, but he makes you laugh. He’s Clive Owen the following day--tall, attractive and smuggly British.
His personality changes regularly, too. Sometimes, my ideal is the adventurous life of the party. Next, he’s the reclusive thinker that challenges me and dares me to dig deeper. Other times, he’s the man of mystery that keeps me guessing. Still other days, he’s the quiet caring man who would give the shirt off his back if he could.
Combine all those ideals, and if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you get a real “scrambled” mess. The irony is that I can’t commit on the subject of what I am looking for! So for now, I choose not to draft my list. It’s safer that way...
He needs to be so tall, have X amount of money, be a gentleman, etc....
And while I can appreciate their willingness to list out the qualities they are looking for, I’m not so much into pinpointing exactly what captures my heart maybe because I actually just don’t know. I guess my philosophy is simply that I’ll know what’s for me and what’s not for me when it happens, and that’s been what I’ve been living by. It’s the ONE thing I’m spontaneous about. Me--the ultimate planner, the organized freak, the detail queen--I’ve just been sitting back on this one. I guess this is one area of my life that I don’t seem to be completely in control over, and I’ve certainly never written down a LIST. It’s too risky.
I fear putting it down on paper. Seeing my thoughts on paper like that would taunt me. I’d have to face who I am and what I want, and that seems to be constantly changing! So why make a list? What was attractive yesterday might be repulsive tomorrow! And should someone come into my life, I don’t want to cut him out instantly because he doesn’t fit into my 12-point checklist. Yes, I believe that there are things that you can’t waiver on--such as faith and relationships with GOD, a person's overall character, and other foundational things like that. But as for the rest, I’m afraid to think about it too much. I guess you could call me a cynical idealist. I believe that the ideals in my head can exist but ONLY in my head. Once on paper, they diminish rather quickly and somebody else’s list starts to look even better than my own.
Runaway Bride haunts me! Julia Roberts’s character in the movie tends to change who she is and what she likes with the man she is dating or rather leaving at the altar. Richard Gere’s character confronts her about eggs and how she has changed her favorite style of eggs with each man she has been involved with. He challenges her to take a deep look at herself and determine who she is on her own before she can define what she likes and dislikes. I can see lots of truth in that, and I’ve thought about it more than I care to recount.
Now for me, there hasn’t been all that much chance for experimentation on eggs. My dating life has pretty much been non-existent. There have been a few dates here and there, but I’ve never seriously dated. Never really been in what I would call a relationship! I’ve had as many as 3 dates with the same guy, but all my dating “attempts” have had one thing in common. Every guy that has come into my life has been looking for someone else. Oh, a couple of them have thought I WAS that someone else, but I wasn’t, and I knew it right away before they did, and so it didn’t go anywhere.
And so I guess you could say that I don’t exactly know how I like my eggs! [OK, actually, the eggs, I have down. Fried, over hard, don’t break the yokes, a little bit of salt and pepper, and it’s all good!] But with guys, I don’t know exactly what floats my boat.
My ideal changes too often. I can’t decide whether he should be tall or short, thin or bulky, bearded or bald, type-A or melancholy, aggressive or complacent. He’s Vin Diesel one day--the eye candy tough guy with a softer side if you just get to know him better. He’s Bill Murray the next day--not a lot to look at, but he makes you laugh. He’s Clive Owen the following day--tall, attractive and smuggly British.
His personality changes regularly, too. Sometimes, my ideal is the adventurous life of the party. Next, he’s the reclusive thinker that challenges me and dares me to dig deeper. Other times, he’s the man of mystery that keeps me guessing. Still other days, he’s the quiet caring man who would give the shirt off his back if he could.
Combine all those ideals, and if you’ll forgive me for saying so, you get a real “scrambled” mess. The irony is that I can’t commit on the subject of what I am looking for! So for now, I choose not to draft my list. It’s safer that way...
Friday, January 7, 2005
The Buzz About Intelligence
My friend Kristen called me earlier this week to tell me the news. She was right to tell me. I needed to know even though it pained me to hear it! But the word is out now...We both know why neither one of us are married. We've got yet another "strike" against us if you will. We're too intelligent.
Not too intelligent for marriage itself, per se. Fact is, we both want it. We're not avoiding it because we're against it or running madly from it. We're not ultra-feminists here campaigning against marriage. The opposite is true. We're fans of the GOD-inspired union of marriage. Longingly, both of us carry torches of hope to one day find a match of our own. So, it's not for a lack of desire for it...BRING IT!
The most recent revelation in a British study is that women prefer brains over brawn. I guess I’d have to agree with that. I mean it's not true of all women, but for most of us, it's true! We like to be stimulated mentally. Physically you can captivate us with your fine physique, but if you don’t get inside our heads, it’s not going to last. So I don’t necessarily disagree with the study. But what caught me as a sad comment about our society was that the study indicated that while women with higher IQs struggled to find a prospective mate, men of equal rank in IQ didn't have the same struggle to find a bride. It makes me wonder...
I could blame it all on the men. I mean we all know that men will settle for any girl that looks good in a bikini regardless of her IQ, and so no wonder men with higher IQs have no trouble marrying. They aren’t looking for intelligence when they look for a mate. Right? Hmmmm….OK, so while that's true of some men, I KNOW it isn't true about all men--intelligent or not. There are decent guys out there who are very much into intelligent women. My sister married one! And so maybe we can't blame it all on the men...
I don't know what my IQ is, and I don't care to know. [Frankly, I've never liked those tests anyway. Who cares which circle comes next in the series? I mean does anybody really use that information in the real world? I've never had it come up on the job...Hey, Mel, which circle formation would follow these three? We've got a client on the phone and he needs to know for that TPS report... YAH! Like that's gonna happen!] But I am a college graduate. [As if that really means anything here. It just means that I managed to pass enough classes to get a piece of paper that declares me educated on some subject matters.]
I read a lot (not as much as I should). I love to write. I enjoy intelligent conversations and discussions. All these things are true about me, but I've never really considered myself brilliant or super smart really. I'm just educated, and I have a thirst for knowledge and not all of that is useful either. For example, I hate the news. I realize that a journalist should enjoy keeping up on current events and like to stay aware of what is happening in the world around her, but I'm not all that great with current topics. I'm better with history. I get mesmerized by any program on ancient Egypt, the kings and queens of Europe or architecture. But ask me for an opinion on current politics, and this girl (who graduated with a political science minor) has eyes that start to glaze over.
All in all, I consider myself to have an average amount of intelligence. I'm not ready for a round of Jeopardy here, and I fail consistently at Trivial Pursuit, but I can recount lines of The Princess Bride like it was my mantra. I'm not a genius by any means, but I do like to keep on learning more.
And as far as what I am looking for in a potential mate...I'm NOT looking for an exact copy of me, that’s for sure. I don't need a man that is exactly like me in intelligence or otherwise. Yes, there are important things that we need to agree on or have a distinct interest in, but I don't want him to only know what I know. What's the point in marring a man that is my clone? I mean, I already talk to myself plenty. My conversations wouldn't differ all that much if I married someone who is a replica of my self! How boring is that?
So I'm not so sure that I'm being an intelligence snob on my journey. At least I hope I'm not. But I did really have to contemplate this subject once before in college…I had a great friend named Carl. He was a special guy that was originally dating my friend Theresa, and then they parted, and I managed to keep both friendships. Carl was sweet, thoughtful and very caring, and I could soon tell that our friendship was blossoming into something more, at least for Carl. But I really fought it. I just didn’t think we had enough in common.
He was a carpentry major, and I was a journalism major. He liked to work with his hands. I liked the rhythm of vivid language. Carl would write me long heartfelt letters and even included a poem or two. I would read his letters, and while I found them sweet and charming, I confess that I cringed at his lyrics and his misspellings just as I cringe at the thought of fingernails on a chalkboard.
I was honest with Carl and told him that I really just wanted things to stay as they were. I was content with our friendship. He was a brother to me, and while I loved and respected him, I wanted something more. Over a summer though, Carl asked me to think about it, and I really did. I spent hours rehashing the subject in my head and talked of nothing else to my sister. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t throwing something special away by not dating him. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just being unwilling to date Carl because of our different interests or because of a perceived intelligence barrier. But I came to the same conclusion I have kept through the years, Carl was not the man for me. Truth is though that there were other things that kept Carl and I apart, and it wasn’t because I was smarter than he. It just wasn’t meant to be. I have no regrets on the subject.
And so while I’ve been told that differences in intelligence can be hindering in a relationship, I’m not sure it’s always the case or not at least entirely to blame.
Another thought is that a women’s intelligence can be intimidating to men. Now why is that? Why should my knowledge on a topic keep someone from approaching me? Just because I know a bit about a subject doesn't mean that anyone who isn't skilled in that subject is less than myself. I don't think that at all. I mean every person has some skill or field that they know something about.
So now I'm wondering if maybe it's not necessarily that women WON'T date or marry men that are of less intelligence, but perhaps men of “lesser intelligence” aren’t asking out women they perceive to be intelligent because these men are intimidated by it. I don't quite understand the whole concept myself. Why would a man feel that he HAD to be more intelligent than his wife in the first place? Is there some rule about that, a rule that I don't know about? And how do you accurately gauge intelligence in the first place? You can't, in my opinion. Intelligence is all relative!
For example, Carl knew tons about carpentry and could make beautiful useful and ornamental things from a piece of wood. I have a jewelry box that he made me that I still marvel at. The craftsmanship and expertise that it took to fasten simple scraps of wood into a work of art is beyond me. I knew nothing about what it took to form that wood into an attractive jewelry box just as Carl didn’t know all that much about poetry. We each were skilled in an art of our own choosing, but those differences weren’t what kept us apart.
So now I’m a bit perplexed…I don’t know quite what to think about the whole subject. Who is to blame anyway? Men? Or is it the women? Or perhaps like just about everything else, it’s a bit of both? Hmmmm…life sure keeps us guessing. But at least it's never boring...
Not too intelligent for marriage itself, per se. Fact is, we both want it. We're not avoiding it because we're against it or running madly from it. We're not ultra-feminists here campaigning against marriage. The opposite is true. We're fans of the GOD-inspired union of marriage. Longingly, both of us carry torches of hope to one day find a match of our own. So, it's not for a lack of desire for it...BRING IT!
The most recent revelation in a British study is that women prefer brains over brawn. I guess I’d have to agree with that. I mean it's not true of all women, but for most of us, it's true! We like to be stimulated mentally. Physically you can captivate us with your fine physique, but if you don’t get inside our heads, it’s not going to last. So I don’t necessarily disagree with the study. But what caught me as a sad comment about our society was that the study indicated that while women with higher IQs struggled to find a prospective mate, men of equal rank in IQ didn't have the same struggle to find a bride. It makes me wonder...
I could blame it all on the men. I mean we all know that men will settle for any girl that looks good in a bikini regardless of her IQ, and so no wonder men with higher IQs have no trouble marrying. They aren’t looking for intelligence when they look for a mate. Right? Hmmmm….OK, so while that's true of some men, I KNOW it isn't true about all men--intelligent or not. There are decent guys out there who are very much into intelligent women. My sister married one! And so maybe we can't blame it all on the men...
I don't know what my IQ is, and I don't care to know. [Frankly, I've never liked those tests anyway. Who cares which circle comes next in the series? I mean does anybody really use that information in the real world? I've never had it come up on the job...Hey, Mel, which circle formation would follow these three? We've got a client on the phone and he needs to know for that TPS report... YAH! Like that's gonna happen!] But I am a college graduate. [As if that really means anything here. It just means that I managed to pass enough classes to get a piece of paper that declares me educated on some subject matters.]
I read a lot (not as much as I should). I love to write. I enjoy intelligent conversations and discussions. All these things are true about me, but I've never really considered myself brilliant or super smart really. I'm just educated, and I have a thirst for knowledge and not all of that is useful either. For example, I hate the news. I realize that a journalist should enjoy keeping up on current events and like to stay aware of what is happening in the world around her, but I'm not all that great with current topics. I'm better with history. I get mesmerized by any program on ancient Egypt, the kings and queens of Europe or architecture. But ask me for an opinion on current politics, and this girl (who graduated with a political science minor) has eyes that start to glaze over.
All in all, I consider myself to have an average amount of intelligence. I'm not ready for a round of Jeopardy here, and I fail consistently at Trivial Pursuit, but I can recount lines of The Princess Bride like it was my mantra. I'm not a genius by any means, but I do like to keep on learning more.
And as far as what I am looking for in a potential mate...I'm NOT looking for an exact copy of me, that’s for sure. I don't need a man that is exactly like me in intelligence or otherwise. Yes, there are important things that we need to agree on or have a distinct interest in, but I don't want him to only know what I know. What's the point in marring a man that is my clone? I mean, I already talk to myself plenty. My conversations wouldn't differ all that much if I married someone who is a replica of my self! How boring is that?
So I'm not so sure that I'm being an intelligence snob on my journey. At least I hope I'm not. But I did really have to contemplate this subject once before in college…I had a great friend named Carl. He was a special guy that was originally dating my friend Theresa, and then they parted, and I managed to keep both friendships. Carl was sweet, thoughtful and very caring, and I could soon tell that our friendship was blossoming into something more, at least for Carl. But I really fought it. I just didn’t think we had enough in common.
He was a carpentry major, and I was a journalism major. He liked to work with his hands. I liked the rhythm of vivid language. Carl would write me long heartfelt letters and even included a poem or two. I would read his letters, and while I found them sweet and charming, I confess that I cringed at his lyrics and his misspellings just as I cringe at the thought of fingernails on a chalkboard.
I was honest with Carl and told him that I really just wanted things to stay as they were. I was content with our friendship. He was a brother to me, and while I loved and respected him, I wanted something more. Over a summer though, Carl asked me to think about it, and I really did. I spent hours rehashing the subject in my head and talked of nothing else to my sister. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t throwing something special away by not dating him. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t just being unwilling to date Carl because of our different interests or because of a perceived intelligence barrier. But I came to the same conclusion I have kept through the years, Carl was not the man for me. Truth is though that there were other things that kept Carl and I apart, and it wasn’t because I was smarter than he. It just wasn’t meant to be. I have no regrets on the subject.
And so while I’ve been told that differences in intelligence can be hindering in a relationship, I’m not sure it’s always the case or not at least entirely to blame.
Another thought is that a women’s intelligence can be intimidating to men. Now why is that? Why should my knowledge on a topic keep someone from approaching me? Just because I know a bit about a subject doesn't mean that anyone who isn't skilled in that subject is less than myself. I don't think that at all. I mean every person has some skill or field that they know something about.
So now I'm wondering if maybe it's not necessarily that women WON'T date or marry men that are of less intelligence, but perhaps men of “lesser intelligence” aren’t asking out women they perceive to be intelligent because these men are intimidated by it. I don't quite understand the whole concept myself. Why would a man feel that he HAD to be more intelligent than his wife in the first place? Is there some rule about that, a rule that I don't know about? And how do you accurately gauge intelligence in the first place? You can't, in my opinion. Intelligence is all relative!
For example, Carl knew tons about carpentry and could make beautiful useful and ornamental things from a piece of wood. I have a jewelry box that he made me that I still marvel at. The craftsmanship and expertise that it took to fasten simple scraps of wood into a work of art is beyond me. I knew nothing about what it took to form that wood into an attractive jewelry box just as Carl didn’t know all that much about poetry. We each were skilled in an art of our own choosing, but those differences weren’t what kept us apart.
So now I’m a bit perplexed…I don’t know quite what to think about the whole subject. Who is to blame anyway? Men? Or is it the women? Or perhaps like just about everything else, it’s a bit of both? Hmmmm…life sure keeps us guessing. But at least it's never boring...
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