The Price We Pay For Love

7-27-2013


Grief is the price we pay for love
Queen Elizabeth II

About four years ago I wrote a post about grief for Four Perspectives, the first blog I was involved with.  In that post I wrote about coming up on the first anniversary of my husband's death. I wrote about how fast life moves on after someone leaves us and about  how grief, though painful and profound, is the proof that someone was really there.

Before Four Perspectives, I'd never been too sure about blogs.  I mean there were some blogs that my friends wrote that I followed and I enjoyed - I just wasn't sure that anything I was doing was interesting enough to blog about.  But my friend Jason convinced me that I was a good enough writer, or at least that I had a skewed enough perspective on the world to be interesting enough at least some of the time and invited me to write on his new blog.  The best part being that on Four Perpectives, I wouldn't have to carry the load of being interesting all by myself because, as the name suggests, there were four people writing.

After awhile Jason convinced me it was time to have a blog of my own, if only to expand my own skewed view of the world a little more.  And it was almost a year ago exactly that Jason helped me set up this very blog.  We came up with the name and he helped me pick a preliminary design and taught me how to navigate around a little bit.  You may notice though that even though it's been a year, this is actually my first post on "To Mel and Back."  This is largely because the day after Jason helped me set up this blog, a series of events began to unfold that ended in the death of my friend.  It was a sudden and troubling death that I'm not sure that any of his friends will ever fully be able to deal with.  So even though I finally had a blog of my own, I just didn't have the heart for it. I couldn't really come to this page without dealing with the grief of my friend's passing and I was not finding much comfort in those feelings or memories and just didn't want to write it out.

But a year has passed.  A year without Wednesday dinners with my friend, a year without talking (and complaining) about our jobs, a year without comparing photographs, songs, movies,vacations, sorrows, blessings, accomplishments and basically being a witness to each other's lives.  I didn't have the heart to write it all down this year and I'm still not sure that I do. But I do know that not writing hasn't helped me feel better, and I've been thinking lately that Jason would be really, really mad that I haven't been writing - especially since the last thing he did for me was help me set up this blog because he, at least, enjoyed my writing.

So I think it's time to write again  - it's time because life does move on.  Even though I have had sorrows this year, I have also had accomplishments and blessings. I am building new friendships, renewing old ones and I had the most interesting vacation of my life.  I'd love to be able to tell Jason all about it because I know he'd be excited for me.  And maybe, in a way, I will be.

What It Should Be

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 6/3/12)

Don't marry the person you think you can live with; marry only the individual you think you can't live without.  ~James C. Dobson

I just got back from a trip to New Mexico to visit my brother and his family.  My brother, I'm happy to say, is really a good guy. He married young. Had two sons with his first wife. Was divorced, then a few years later, married again and has been happily married now for almost 13 years. The operative word there being happily. 

I don’t get down to New Mexico to visit very often, but when I do, I’m always so happy and relieved to see my Big Bro with his second wife, JM. I think this is because he was so very unhappy in his first marriage - I think it almost broke him.  Although with the childhood we had, I think he may have already been a little broken – we both were.  But  since he married JM, he’s gone through  a change. I don’t know if it is a change that everybody would notice, but I see it as profound.  Big Bro was never what you would call an extrovert, but each time I see him  (every three or four years) he is easier and more open with people and seems generally more content with himself.  Not that everything has been just peachy-dandy with Big Bro and JM.  They have certainly had challenges with raising the boys from marriage #1 and with not just one but two Army tours in the Middle East for Big Bro, having to close his self-run business while serving those tours and then trying to build it again once he’s back. And then to top it off, some serious health challenges with their new baby girl.  So it hasn’t all be easy for them, but it has, I think, been easy between them.  JM has been so good for my brother and I think he is good for her. They admire each other and enjoy each other and rely on each other and in the end they are stronger because of each other – no matter the challenges they face.  Marriage changes you I think. Both my brother’s marriages changed him.  In his first marriage, he was on his way to becoming the worst version of himself. His second marriage is helping him to find his best self and whenever I see that in him, it almost makes me want to cry…in a good way.

This would be a longer blog than you’d ever want to read if I were to talk in detail about myself and my marriages. I’ve had two; one long that ended in divorce and one short that ended with the death of my husband.  Both marriages changed me of course and I think I feel the lack of that now.  Marriage gives you someone else to rub up against, and I don’t mean that in a sexual way…at least not in this particular blog. What I mean is that being married means there’s someone in your life that forces you to evaluate your behavior sometimes on a daily basis.  In a good marriage, your rough edges are smoothed by that daily buffeting and, like my brother, you make changes for the better. It’s much easier to fall into selfish and self-centered behavior when you don’t have that daily reminder to look outside your own needs.  There’s also something to be said about being yoked with someone else to pull your life along…or lives along if you are lucky enough to have a partner that will pull with you.

I know there’s a lot of people that lament the high divorce rate and argue that marriage shouldn’t be so disposable – that people should stick with it and fix it.  Even though I am one of those lamentable statistics, I agree with that. I agree that marriage takes work, but I would argue that sometimes there isn’t enough viable material to work with.  I see evidence around me every day of what a blessing marriage can be in people’s lives.  It’s exactly those examples of happily married friends and family that made staying in an unhappy marriage so difficult. I’ve never asked my ex-husband directly, but it seems to me that he is happier now with his wife #2. More importantly (to me at least) I think my boys see that he is happier as well and at the end of the day, I want them to be fully aware of what a happy marriage looks like – even if it’s not my own.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have the kind of marriage that my brother has.  There are times when I still hope so.  But I do know that I’m not willing to settle for a marriage that is less than what it could be…and what it should be.

Rotten Tomatoes

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 5/17/12 - the topic was to discuss our most embarrassing moments)

How many of you have ever started dating because you were too lazy to commit suicide? – Judy Tenuta -

I have to agree with Lori that life…well, my life anyway, is just a series of embarrassing moments. Actually, there are degrees of embarrassment aren’t there?  There’s the “oops, wasn’t that cute or funny” kind of embarrassing. Those usually involve falling down, or ice cream in the face or the dreaded wardrobe malfunctions of life. Then, there are the really abject humiliations. These can occur when you insert your foot into your mouth so far you could bite your own kneecap, or when your own selfish behavior comes back to haunt you. And sometimes, humiliation and embarrassment can be heaped-upon-your-head by someone else.

I have had plenty of the first kind, some of which I’ve written about in the past few years here on 4P.  Like the time I fell off the treadmill at the gym (because it was dark). Or the time I fell off the trail while hiking on Y-Mountain (because I have feet). Or the time the woodland creatures at Girl’s Camp reminded me just how disenchanted and un-Disney-princess-like I am.  Then of course I’ve had plenty of the second kind too.  There was the time I realized I had been calling one of the dads from the ballroom team by the wrong name for like a whole year. Actually this same thing kind of happened again in my Sunday school class just last week.  I’d been calling a kid by the wrong name for like two months since he moved in.  In my defense though, it’s not like either of them said anything.  Which I suppose I can understand because there is a lady at work that I’ve known for about 3 years now who calls me by the wrong name all the time and I haven’t told her either.  And besides being simply clueless sometimes, there are lots of times that I have been just plain thoughtless in my behavior.  I look back of some of the things I have said or done …I’m embarrassed and I wish, I wish I could take it back.

But the one I’m thinking about today is actually one of the third kind.  The one where humiliation is heaped-upon you by someone else. Sometimes it’s because they are just plain being mean, but sometimes it’s because they’re trying to do something nice….something for your own good even and it just goes horribly wrong.

I had one of those happen to me only a few weeks ago...and it was pretty bad.

I have a friend, a relatively new friend who just finalized her divorce a few months ago and so, like myself, is now single.   I have been single for coming up on four years now and have only very recently started thinking that maybe being alone isn’t exactly what the doctor ordered…even though I’m pretty sure it probably is.  I am very different from my friend.  She has been officially single for about 4 months and is signing up for dating sites and basically putting herself out there to take another swing at wedded bliss.  It seems to have worked for her because she has found a new relationship that she seems to be enjoying and who knows where it could go?

I am happy for my friend if she is happy and I admire her courage. But my friend, on the other hand, is worried about me. I guess basking in the glow of new romance really makes her want to share the love and she has really been encouraging me to put myself out there too.  She has even coerced me into signing up for an online dating site.  You may be thinking “online dating site? Wow that is really embarrassing.” You’re right, it is (at least for me), but wait, there’s more.

After I signed up for the site she actually expected me to do something with it…you know…talk to men and even arrange to meet someone. This whole thing hooks directly into every awkward and inadequate feeling I’ve ever had about myself from the time I realized I’d probably grown into too much of a girl to play tackle football with the boys anymore. I don’t think I’m a troll or anything. I have, after-all, managed to get two men to marry me -  but it’s not like it was love at first sight.  I kind of had to grow on them….over long, long periods of time…you know, wear them down.   I’m just not the kind of girl a man is going to notice while picking out tomatoes at the grocery store and then follow around for her number.  On the other hand my friend is exactly the kind of girl a man would stalk up and down every isle in the grocery store for her number. But you see, my friend is a kind, kind soul who I genuinely don’t think really understands the difference between the kind of girl she is and the kind of girl I am.  She sees admirable qualities in me that she thinks men would respond to.  I appreciate that, I do.  But I've also spent enough nights sitting home without a date and missed enough proms to know that “admirable qualities” aren’t what get your foot in the door when it comes to dating. 

So after all of that, you may be wondering why, if I am so reticent about the whole “online” scene, I went along with all of this.  Good question.  I’m trying an experiment with my life lately.  I’m wondering if people aren’t brought into your life for a reason. You know, to help you grow.  No offense to the millions of online daters out there, I know it’s fun for some people, but I’ve never been very comfortable with the idea myself.  On the other hand, I’ve been single for almost four years now and there isn’t anyone in any facet of my life that I am remotely interested in romantically (or conversely, is interested in me). Nobody I even flirt with just for fun. So, if I am going to meet someone (even though I’m not completely sure I want to) maybe online is the wave of the future.  My friend certainly thought/thinks so and maybe that’s one of the reasons she’s come into my life – ‘cause I certainly wouldn’t have done it on my own.

This is where it gets bad.

So, after several weeks of lurking unobtrusively on the dating site I actually “talked” to a few prospective dates. Then after a few more weeks, I actually arranged to meet “a prospect” at a local restaurant.

I arrive at the restaurant first.

I am nervous.

I am embarrassed to be here,

I was embarrassed just getting dressed for the date.

But I am here.

I find myself wondering, while I’m waiting, about the etiquette for the online hook-up.  Does HE pay for dinner or do we each pay for our own?  And how am I going to know that going into the date?  Should I just ask right up front?

I kind of know what the prospect looks like from the fuzzy pictures on the computer, so I’m pretty sure I see him when he walks in.  He’s wearing cowboy boots.  I’m not saying that’s a deal-breaker for me, or anything, it’s just, you know, information. Because I had told the hostess my name and the name of the man I was waiting for, she directed him over to where I was sitting.  I stood up as he approached and we shook hands then sat down in the booth. 

I smile at him.  He seemed ok - nice looking –a bit older than me and pretty tall (though I’m sure the boots helped with that).  He was a little heavy-handed with the aftershave, but at least he smelled good.

He stares at me intently for a moment. Then he leans back in his seat, sighs deeply and  places both hands heavily on the edge of the table.

Then he spoke.

“You know, I’ve been doing this online dating thing for awhile now and I don’t believe in wasting anyone’s time.” He had a nice voice with a little bit of an indefinable drawl to it...but I can't help but wonder what's coming next.

“Okay.” I say cautiously.

“You seem really nice, but this…” he says kind of waving his hands to encompass the entire package that is me, “…isn’t what I’m looking for.

“Okay.” I say again.

“So, I’m going to wish you a good evening. Enjoy your dinner.” He then slides out of the booth, stands up, and out of the Red Robin he goes.

As he’s leaving he passes the approaching waitress who was coming over to take our drink order and who, of course, I happen to know from Ebay’s former ballroom team.

“Okay.” I say to her. “I guess I know who's paying for dinner.

See, I told you it was bad.

A Fancy or a Feeling

(Originally Posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 9/15/11)

If there were no God, there would be no Atheists. ~G.K. Chesterton

So I was talking to a friend the other day about God.

This friend is kind of wishy-washy about religion and actually professes to be leaning towards atheism. By the way, this friend was not Teachinfourth – just in case ya'll were wondering after his searching for God post awhile back -although we have spent a fair amount of time sorting through faith,belief and other such ethereal topics. Anyway this mostly atheist friend was trying to explain why believing in God just doesn’t make any sense to him. He believes that people just use God as an excuse to explain whatever coincidence they want to explain. He is an atheist on logical grounds – there is just no proof that God isn’t just a figment of mankind’s imagination.

I have to say that he is right. Believing in God is entirely illogical…and I like to think that I’m a pretty logical person.

But I believe in God anyway.

Now, I do not have a perfect faith, but I do believe there is a God and that there is a plan.

I was trying explain my faith as we were talking and I hit upon this analogy. Of course I didn’t think of this analogy until the day after our conversation…it would have been much cooler and more satisfying if I could have formed this argument in the moment of debate…but whatever.

Here’s what I think…

Belief in God is all about feeling and intuition in the same way that being a parent is all about feeling and intuition.

I mean, when you have a new baby there are times when you simply don’t know what it wants. You’ve fed it, changed it, burped it, rocked it, sung to it, and the baby is still crying. Because you hopefully want to be a good parent (and because you really want to get some sleep), you keep trying to figure out what your baby wants. Through trial and error you slooooowwwwly come to recognize the signals that your baby is throwing out there. You can tell the hungry cry from the cranky cry. You can tell the “I’m just throwing a fit” cry from the “something is really wrong” cry.

Now to anybody else a baby crying is just a baby crying - could mean anything or could mean nothing.  But to you, the parent who has spent hours and hours and days and years studying this child, that cry means something…something specific.

Can you prove it?

Well…maybe not.

But you know what you know and you feel what you feel whether it’s logical or not.

Believing in God is a quest. A quest for a feeling that helps you find answers to questions that, like your baby's cry, only you might understand. It takes a lot of time and a lot of practice but eventually, slowly, you start to recognize the signs...and then maybe even start to sleep through the night.

Mother Bear

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 4/21/11)

Beauty isn't worth thinking about; what's important is your mind. You don't want a fifty-dollar haircut on a fifty-cent head. ~Garrison Keillor

So I went with Ebay to a concert the other day.

We were standing in line to have our tickets scanned and in front of us about two spaces was a group of 4 or 5 teenage girls - my guess is somewhere between 15 and 18 years old. They were kind of standing in a little semi circle as we all stood in line so that a couple of them were facing the people behind them – which included Ebay and me.

After a minute or two in line I notice the girls whispering to each and looking at us – well not at us really as much as they were looking at Ebay.

Checking him out really.

The two girls facing us whispered back and forth a little then kind of leaned over and whispered to the girls who’s backs were to us. Sure enough, one by one they each turned around briefly and surreptitiously scanned my baby boy. Once they all got their initial look they all kind of kept finding reasons to turn around or quickly glance back and then whisper even more to each other – glance/whisper, glance/whisper, glance/whisper.

I was a little taken back I have to admit. Now I’ve always thought that Ebay is a cutie, but I’m his mother – I’m supposed to think he’s cute. I glanced over at him and tried to evaluate him objectively.

Casual but stylish outfit. Artfully tousled hair. Startlingly blue eyes.

Oh Crap…I think he may be crossing over from merely cute to handsome.

It sure looked like those girls thought so anyway.

I was hit with a strange mix of feelings I can only describe as proud-stage-mother combined with protective-mother-bear. On the one hand it was nice that these girl's thought Ebay was cute enough to check-out. But I found myself wanting to prowl back and forth protecting my cute cub. They can admire from afar – but don’t get too close and for Heaven's sake no touching! How does Brad Pitt’s mother deal with this kind of thing? Ok, maybe not Brad Pitt…Zac Efron perhaps (in right light) …with Justin Beiber’s squishy cheeks.

At this point I glance over at Ebay to see if he’s noticed this female phenomenon.

Oh yeah, he noticed.

He noticed but to his credit he was also being totally cool about the ogling and acting like he didn’t notice by casually checking out something on his phone – possibly his own reflection?

Ebay was still standing next to me - and because I didn’t want to totally embarrass him and since he was already looking at his phone, I pulled mine out and sent him a text.

Mom Text: Looks like you have fans?

Ebay Text: Yeah.

Mom Text: Does this happen to you a lot?

Ebay Text: Well, sometimes. A girl sent me her phone number through the drive-thru Tube at work the other day.

Mom Text: Well, that’s.... flattering.

Ebay Text: I thought so.

Mom Text: Did you call her?

Ebay Text: No – I was flattered but kind of freaked out.

Yeah, I can relate.

Red Lights and Destiny

Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 3/13/11)

Our destiny hides among our free choices, disguised as the free-est of all. ~Robert Brault

Spoiler Alert: Mel reviews and discusses the new movie The Adjustment Bureau and might accidentally blow a central plot twist for you. Reader beware

So I took myself to the movies last Friday night. I don’t usually mind going to the movies by myself. I’m generally confident enough sit alone in the dark the best part being, of course, that I don’t have to share the popcorn. But then again I usually have the good sense not to go to the movies alone on a “Date Night.” Talk about a hyper-single-awareness evening. And to top it off I went to see The Adjustment Bureau, which, as it turns out is quite the romantic movie. But despite the fact that it was a romantic movie and I was surrounded by romantic couples which only served to heighten the single-awareness, I actually still really liked the movie. It felt like kind of a cross between Sleepless in Seattle - the idea that the person that you’re meant to be with is out there somewhere, and City of Angels - the idea that angels are around us helping to keep things on track…with a little free will and It’s a Wonderful Life thrown in there for good measure.

The premise of The Adjustment Bureau is that there is a plan written for everyone (in what appear to be those black and white student composition books) and everyone’s plans kind of interconnect to affect the course of the world. And, as we go along through life there are “adjustment angels” that kind of nudge us along in the direction of the plan. So, for example let’s say you have plans with friends for the evening. Your drive home from work usually takes 15 minutes. But on one particular day you hit every red light along University Avenue which means that you’re running late and are not going to have time to make dinner before you meet your friends at the movies. So you decide, because you’re running late to stop at the new hamburger place up the street where you meet the new waiter (or waitress depending on your gender preference) who turns out to be the love of your life. You marry and have 4 kids, one of which turns out to discover the cure for the common cold. Now, were all those red lights just chance or, what is the Adjustment Bureau angels making sure that you followed the plan they had laid out for you and thus for the world? As the movie previews show, Matt Damon wants to be with Emily Blunt but the Adjustment Bureau doesn’t want that to happen because if it does she will never reach her potential of being a world famous dancer/choreographer and he will never reach his potential of becoming the President.

So it sounds like the “angels” are looking out for what’s best doesn’t it? Well, this is where the tricky part comes in. Who’s to say which plan is the best? How do we know which is the best “potential” to have realized? If the main characters are apart they achieve fame and success. But if Matt’s character is with Emily’s character, he will be happy and it will be enough. He won’t feel the drive and determination to keep looking for more and trying to win just one more election.

I thought that was an interesting question. We all have endless potential and endless directions that our lives can take and who's to say which path is the best? Who can say if it is the better life to become famous and powerful or to toil in anonymity but raise a good family and have a happy home? I think it’s good to have goals and it’s good to want to achieve things, but I also think that a truly valuable life can come in all shapes and sizes.

So go see The Adjustment Bureau, I think you'll like it. Plus it will give you something to think about that the next time you’re hitting nothing but red lights – both literally and metaphorically. Maybe your potential is about to find you, but maybe you’ve already chosen it for yourself - special notebooks and fate of the universe be damned. Just be sure to take someone with you on a Friday night.

Shiny, Happy People

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 1/13/11)

Cleanliness becomes more important when Godliness is unlikely. P.J. O'Roark

Over Christmas break I did a some spring cleaning. I suppose I could call it Christmas break cleaning, but I’ll stick with spring cleaning because technically it was cleaning that I really should have done back in the spring. But, the giant Girl’s Camp Monster swallowed me up and then suddenly it was time for school to start again and then Superdude got married and then… Ok ok ok so who am I kidding? I just didn’t want to do it ok? It was a lot of cleaning and re-organizing and going through boxes and boxes of random stuff and I procrastinated as long as I could.

But apparently I have not yet reached the point of being a candidate for the TV show Hoarders because I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I could feel the giant jumble of stuff lurking down there, probably spontaneously multiplying while I slept and I had to do something about it.

So I bought a WHOOOOLLLE bunch of plastic totes from Walmart, unfortunately online, so I didn’t actually set foot in the store. My loss apparently as that is where hilarious blog opportunities are born. My Walmart totes were delivered by a handsome UPS dude that I unfortunately don’t have any good stories about either (except that he was still wearing shorts in December…brrrrr).

Anyway, once the totes arrived Ebay and I set about cleaning and reorganizing the much neglected downstairs area industriously packing totes, and collapsing boxes while vacuuming, dusting and mopping every grimy corner, cobweb and dust-bunny. Clean Sweep and Clean House and all those other organization shows would have been proud of us – even though it really sucked. It was totally not fun and I realized several times while standing in the middle of piles of sh…I mean stuff why I had put it off for so long – I hate cleaning.

I come by my hatred honestly though. My family had a cleaning business when I was a teenager where we worked for several large apartment complexes in Arizona. We would clean the vacant apartments to get them ready for the new tenants sometimes 10 or 12 apartments a day – that’s a lot of refridgerators, stoves, ovens, bathrooms etc. So you see, I feel like I filled my cleaning quota at a very early age.

Unfortunately, the flip side of all that cleaning is that I do like things to be clean. I think I must be trying to fool or maybe motivate myself because I’ve noticed that I seem to pick cleaning products with very inspirational and happy names. I noticed I was wiping down the dusty plastic shelving with Fantastik. I used Behold on the old wooden rocking chair. I had a bucket of warm sudsy Joy for cleaning the grout between the tiles. I was backed up by Resolve to get the chocolate syrup stain out of the carpet. And when we were done we threw all the dirty rags into the washing machine with a Cheer!

The product manufacturers must be on to the fact that people may require some inspiration from their cleaning products because there’s lots of other product names apparently designed to send you running gleefully for the sponges and rubber gloves. Besides the ones I found under my own sink, it doesn't take too long for other's to bubble to the surface. Pledge, for example, came to mind - perhaps helping us pledge to take care of grandma’s antiques? Gain: you’ll gain more friends if your clothes are clean? Dawn for those early morning dishwashers complete with sunrise and birdsong? Shout or those who like a little affirmation with their spot removing. All because everyone should be in on the laundry. And I noticed something at the store the other day I’d never heard of before called Fabuloso (really – it is) – which is obviously self-explanatory.

Anyway cleaning still sucks, but Behold it looks Fantastik downstairs (or at least a lot better anyway) and I’ve “Cheer”ed up a lot since we got it done. Ebay was a Joy to work with and inspired me with his Resolve to keep at it till we finished. But even with all of those products trying to fool us into being shiny happy people - I still wouldn't want to do it again for at least another 409 years.

Traditional Thanks

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 11/25/10)

An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day. ~Irv Kupcinet

I think traditions are great.

I think they are great and immeasurably important because they connect the generations and help develop a sense of family history a feelings of roots and stability. There's no limit to what a tradition can be. Even everyday family routines, such as who sits where at the dinner table, or reading a bedtime story every night can become a tradition. But, let’s face it most traditions revolve around holidays. Holiday traditions are usually something that is a little more special - something that's anticipated and that you're greatly disappointed if it doesn't happen.

And that, right there is why traditions can also be tricky

Much as we might want to we can’t always hold on to our traditions. Kids grow up and families change and as much as stability and roots might be what you hoped and worked for, tradition can sometimes be a transitory thing. This has certainly been my reality – especially over the last few years. Holidays are just hard for me. Every discernable holiday tradition that evolved while my boys were young has pretty much evaporated. Now don’t get me wrong, I have some great times with my boys and we still have our traditions – it’s just that holidays are tricky for us. One of the things that I feel strongly about when it comes to my boys and the holidays is to not make it a stressor for them. I had to make the decision a few years back to give up the sentimentality of holiday celebrations because I don’t want the boys to feel torn. But those darn holidays come around every year and I’ve found that it sure takes a whole lot of energy to not feel stressed out.

I’ve been thinking lately though, as with so many other things at this time in my life, I have to find a new holiday tradition reality – and maybe that is to not have any. I don’t mean not celebrating the holiday, but maybe my new tradition will be to never make a holiday plan…and just see what happens. I pretty much did that this year and everything has pretty much worked out. Even though I had no guests coming over to my home, I still got to bake 11 Thanksgiving pies and watch 25 teenage boys devour them with gusto. Even though I wasn’t planning buying the traditional Thanksgiving bird I still put a turkey in the oven on Thanksgiving morning, got to smell the great turkey roasting smell and I and know that people enjoyed eating it.

My Thanksgiving 2010 was traditionally non-traditional and wouldn’t make a very good spread in a Martha Stewart magazine – but it was good and I am thankful. I am Thankful for unknown blessings that I’m sure are already on their way.

Genius

Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 10/22/10)

I guess the real reason that my wife and I had children is the same reason that Napoleon had for invading Russia: it seemed like a good idea at the time - Bill Cosby

I have a fun going to church.

Is it fun because if the spiritual edification and social solidarity that comes from worshipping with others of your faith?

No not really.

It’s fun because I get to sit quietly and unencumbered while I watch the families with young children try to wrangle them into good, reverent acceptable church behavior (insert a little bit of evil laughter here).

I’m honestly not judging on the success of the other parishioners parental efforts. I’ve been there and done that and I know that sometimes you can fight the good fight and work the positive reinforcement with quiet books, the bible-story finger puppets, the baggies of cheerios, and sometimes you just give up and take the kid out to the foyer and let him run around. But as my kids are all grown up now, I have to admit to a little perverse pleasure in watching other people take their turn attempting to subdue the ankle biting crowd.

Kids are fun to watch and there are some families that I particularly gravitate towards because the little people seem to be such a hilarious challenge for their parents. I sometimes help the parents out if I think they need it by giving the kid The Look as Ebay calls it.

Let me explain The Look.

Through all my years of parenting and school teaching, I have developed a particular facial expression that seems to be effective in stopping an errant child in his/her tracks and helping them take a moment to perhaps re-think their current behavior. Think Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada. It usually involves an uncomfortable and lengthy amount of eye-contact, a certain pursing of the lips and, if I think that they really need motivation, I can raise my right eyebrow. I sometimes pull it out at the grocery store if I see some kid throwing a fit right there in the cereal isle while the poor mom is struggling with baby and just trying to get the shopping done. I just kind of stand there perusing the cornflakes till the fit-thrower catches my eye. I give them the stare for a few seconds, raise my eyebrow if I think they deserve it – and I tell you what, it almost always works.

Ebay hates when I do this.

“Mom, cut it out.”

“What?” I ask innocently.

“You know what.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re doing The Look.”

“I just thought the mom could use a little help.” I answer sweetly.

“Well, you’re freaking the kid out.” Ebay snaps.

“Just trying to be helpful.” I say while Ebay rolls his eyes.

I know I’m freaking the kid out, but that’s kind of the point – mind your manners in public and quit making life harder for your poor mom. And frankly, now that Ebay teaches primary, I’ve seen him use the very same look – so how do you like them apples?

Anyway, watching the kids at church is fun for me whether or not I pull out The Look. It’s kind of like a real-life National Geographic Special. The rambunctious young cubs pushing the envelope of their environment while the parents try teach them to stay by the waterhole and not run away to the elephant graveyard.

There’s one little guy in my ward – about 2 years old - that I particularly like to watch. I’ve taken to calling him “Genius Baby.” This little guys seems super-smart to me and he really gives his parents a run for their money. He’s an only child right now, but part of his genius seems to be his ability to recruit other toddlers into his life of crime so good luck to his parents if/when they have more kids.

For example…

A few Sundays ago I got to church late (no good excuse, I was just late) and so was sitting out in the foyer. Well this seemed to be a day when a lot of the parents had just given up the fight, because there was quite the social hour of young parents out in the foyer “watching” their toddlers. Both of Genius Baby’s parents were out there, standing next the doors that went into the cultural hall (a fancy word for the gym) talking to the parents of another little guy who was about the same age. Since the parents were engaged in talking to one another, they weren’t as engaged as they maybe should have been in watching their little off-spring. At first this wasn’t a problem. Genius Baby and Little Guy were just kind of playing hide and seek through and around their parent’s legs. But then Little Guy (who was particularly enthusiastic and puppy-like) grabbed hold of the handle to the to the cultural hall door. It’s a heavy door, and being such a little guy, he was only able to pull it open a couple of inches. But this was enough to catch Genius Baby’s attention. Genius Baby had obviously been in the cultural hall before and realized that that was the place to be.

Freedom! Room to run and scream and play! Genius Baby wanted in the cultural hall.

He too pulled on the door but also wasn’t strong enough to get the door open far enough to get through it before it closed on them again. They both tried back and forth for a few minutes and then sort of started squabbling a little bit over whose turn it was to try and pull – Genius Baby – Little Guy – Genius Baby – Little Guy. After a few minutes Genius Baby got tired of waiting for Little Guy to take his turn at pulling – especially when it wasn’t working. He grabbed onto the back of Little Guys pants and pulled him backwards away from the door. Well, Little Guy was still holding onto the door handle and when Genius Baby pulled on Little Guy while Little Guy was also pulling on the door - together they were strong enough to open the door. Little Guy was so excited that the door was open ( I think he thought he’d suddenly been able to do it himself) that he let go of the door handle, jumped around a little bit in celebration, but unfortunately by the time he was done, the door had shut again. Little Guy, pulled on the handle again, but couldn’t get it open this time. Little Guy was clearly puzzled – why wouldn’t it open now? Where had his massive muscles gone? But the light bulb had gone on for Genius Baby. He waited until Little Guy pulled on the door again then he wrapped his little arms around the waist of Little Guy and pulled with all his might. And sure enough, the door opens wide – Success! The two little dudes run through the door into the grand open freedom of the gymnasium with the door closing quietly behind them. Meanwhile, their parents, still chatting away, hadn’t seen a thing. I get up, cross the foyer to open the cultural hall door and enlighten the parents that their toddlers have disappeared. Just as I opened the door, but hadn’t yet had a chance to say “Hey Parents, you’re little dudes are running around unsupervised in the gym,” Genius Baby’s mom notices he’s gone, looks through the open gym door, sees her toddler running free, and gives me a look like “Why did you open the door for two toddlers?” and heads into the gym with the other parents to gather their kids. I didn’t push it. I just went back to my chair in the foyer. The parents came back with their little dudes and resumed their chatty position next to the cultural hall doors. But now Genius Baby and Little Guy had a system – they knew how to get this done and it didn’t take long before they were off again and had involved a couple of little toddler girls in their escape plans too (shades of things to come?). It took about three times before the parents realized what was happening and that their toddlers had masterminded the great escape on their own (apology to me...anyone…anyone?).

Anyway the whole thing was pretty hilarious and, as I said, reminiscent of those nature specials that describe how the chimpanzees figure out how to use a stick to get the ants out of the ant hill. I wonder if the old chimp parents watch the young chimp parents and just laugh and laugh.

Paranormal

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 10/14/10

Hold on, man. We don't go anywhere with "scary," "spooky," "haunted," or "forbidden" in the title. ~ Shaggy- Scooby Doo

You may never guess from my mild-mannered appearance, but I have a thing for the paranormal. I loved reading ghost stories and science fiction as a kid. And although I haven’t done as much reading for fun in the last while as I’ve been in school, I still have a soft spot for the spooky and weird in my recreational reading material.

I’ve noticed lately that this longtime penchant of mine might actually be a little trendy now. Maybe it's just the season, but I’ve noticed that there are several ghost hunter and ghost investigator shows in the TV mix these days. The idea here is that official ghost investigators set up their super-sensitive recording/electronic equipment in a supposedly haunted spot to see if they can capture some physical evidence of the spirits (just how one becomes an “official” ghost investigator is still a little unclear to me). There are also several more shows where people talk about their own ghost stories – personal experiences with seeing ghosts, living in a haunted house or being haunted themselves. There’s even a show about celebrity ghost stories (well, of course there is). And of course you can always find something about UFO’s, cow mutilations, and crop circles somewhere on cable TV. So, just like I was drawn to several Richard Peck ghost novels as a kid, I am drawn to these ghost investigator and UFO shows now. I am compelled to listen to the EVP’s (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) captured by the sensitive equipment. I watch the orbs captured through the night vision goggles, and I guess I’m as interested in the next geek in whether the Egyptians and Mayans could have built their pyramids without E.T. .

I realize that it would make this blog about a million times more interesting if, after that introduction and admission that I am somewhat “paranormal,” I launched into my own ghostly or E.T. experience…

…but I got nothin’.

To the best of my recollection I have never experienced any sort of unexplained phenomenon. And apart from my unfortunate propensity to form judgments about people only moments after meeting them; I do not appear to have any discernible psychic ability. And to top off this lifetime-long paranormal dry-spell, I have driven through the American Southwest between Utah, Arizona and New Mexico dozens of times and have never, not once, seen anything that even remotely resembles any type of UFO (although there may have been a few alien life forms at some of the rest stops).

Maybe it’s because I’ve never experienced it personally that I can watch the ghost investigators and listen to the ghost stories and not be creeped out by them. It’s not that I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits (or UFO’s for that matter), but I guess the absence of actual personal empirical evidence helps me to keep it in the realm of entertainment.

To be honest though, even though I like watching these shows and hearing the theories, I’m not sure that personal experience with paranormal phenomenon is something that I would, or even should wish for. Kind of like taking some drug like heroin. It might be thrilling, it might be compelling, it might be life altering. But it also might open some doors that it’s just as well to keep closed.

Maybe if it happened spontaneously some dark and stormy night in an old abandoned…nah, I’m probably better off just sticking to other people’s stories. Anyone got any good ones?

Happy Halloween Season Everyone.

P.S. I am still looking for UFO’s every time I drive to New Mexico.

Time Warp

(Originally published on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 9/30/10)

Time is making fools of us again. ~J.K. Rowling

Ebay and I had a little jump back in time last week.

Ebay had his wisdom teeth out last Friday and since he had all four wisdom teeth out at once, they gave him anesthesia and knocked him all the way out. This was the first time that Ebay had been under general anesthesia. But Superdude had been under a couple of times over the years, so I felt like I knew what to expect. But Ebay coming out of general anesthesia had reaction I’ve never seen before. Not that I’ve had that much experience with anesthesia myself… so maybe some of you can tell me if Ebays reaction was in the realm of normal… or not.

The procedure itself only took about 20 minutes. But as his dad was driving him back home I got two phone calls from a clearly hysterical Ebay on the other end of the phone. Once he got home I met him at the car and have never seen anyone so upset – at least not since Ebay was little and was pitched a fit about his melted ice cream cone making him all sticky. Ebay was crying (tears and everything) and so disoriented. He just reminded me for all the world like cranky toddler Ebay at about 3 years old. We helped him downstairs to his room so he could lay down and spent a combative couple of minutes trying to help him get his shoes and socks off – combative because he didn’t want our help, he wanted to do it himself (just like when he was 3 years old). I don’t think he fully understood where he was but he did decide that he wanted some juice. So I went upstairs to get him some. A minute later I hear him crying at the bottom of the stairs.

Mom: What are you doing?

Ebay: I want some juice.

Mom: I’m getting your juice, You need to go and lay down.

Ebay: No! I’ll do it myself!

I head down the stairs because I don’t want him coming up in is wobbly state.

Mom: (In my best stern Mommy voice) I’ll get the juice for you. Now you turn yourself back around and get back to bed.

Ebay: (Wailing) Why are you mad at me!

Mom: I’m not mad at you. You just shouldn’t climb the stairs right now.

Ebay: Oh...I thought you were mad at me.

So I get him back to bed and get a little juice in him. But he is still breaking into fits of uncontrollable weeping about every 30 seconds or so.

Ebay: (Wailing again) I’m supposed to be at work. I’m going to get in trouble.

Mom: No, no. You told them you weren’t going to be there today.

Ebay: No I didn’t …I didn’t! I’m supposed to be at work.

Mom: Well, I’m pretty sure you told them, but I’ll call them and tell them you’re not feeling well.

Ebay: Oh…ok.

About 30 seconds later…

Ebay: You’re supposed to be at work. What are you doing here?

Mom: I took some time off to look after you.

Ebay: (Wailing louder now) That’s really nice of you!

At this point he’s asked for his Teddy Bear (that has lived for the past 10 years or so in a decorative nostalgic spot on the shelf) and his blanket (that needed to be tucked around him and straight and smooth just like the little freak wanted when he was 3 years old) and we had found some Tom and Jerry cartoons on TV. Unfortunately this particular cartoon found Tom the cat being tormented for some reason by a pair of enchanted scissors chasing him around trying to cut his tail and his fur.

Ebay: (Wailing yet again)Those scissors are really mean!

Mom: Do you want me to change the channel?

Ebay: Yes, this is too scary.

Now I admit,all of this was pretty funny really. But I was having a hard time fully appreciating the humor because it was really freaking me out. I kept searching his face for some sign that he was just messing with me or that 18-year old Ebay was coming back to the surface. But all I was seeing was a confused little boy that was just so sad. I found myself talking to him just like I did when he was a little guy and I would try to calm and distract him.

Mom: Do you remember you had your wisdom teeth out?

Ebay: I did? Do I get to keep them?

Mom: I don’t think so.

Ebay: But why not? (starting to cry again)

Mom: Well…why do you want them?

Ebay: For the Tooth Fairy!

Mom: Oh right. Well, I’ll have to get them for you.

Ebay: Oh…ok.

There was a whole bunch of equally funny/bizarre interchanges with altered Ebay. But it was really was a weird couple of hours for me trying to figure out if this reaction was normal or if I should be worried. I was gratified that my little boy still apparently needed his mommy, but we’d already been there and done that when he was a little guy in 1995 or so - when was Ebay 2010 going to be making an appearance?

He finally started to calm down and drifted off to sleep for about 10 minutes. Thankfully when he woke up after that little nap it was like his brain had rebooted or something. 18 year old Ebay was back. Still woosey and fuzzy, but in a much more familiar way and with no memory from about 30 seconds after the needle went into his arm at the dentist’s office.

I have to admit I was really relieved to have him back 'cause from my perspective, time travel isn't all it's cracked up to be

Customer Service

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 9/23/10)

A budget tells us what we can't afford, but it doesn't keep us from buying it. - William Feather

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but Ebay works at a bank. Actually, Superdude works at a bank too – a completely different bank. Ebay and Superdude’s employment opportunities came about in a completely separate ways. Ebay did an internship with his bank during his senior year in high school and was fortunate enough to be hired as a teller just days before graduation. Superdude basically just got lucky with who he knew, had a good interview. I like to think that it’s somehow significant that both my boys are bankers (lowly peon bankers - but still). Just how it might be significant I’m not really sure – but you never know.

Anyway, both Ebay and Superdude are enjoying their jobs and are learning a lot about public relations. But, like Jim Morrison said, people are strange and while both boys are very careful about protocol - never disclosing specifics, they do have some good stories about the trials of customer service. It seems that some customers can be a little nuts when it comes to their bank accounts, understanding how the banking system works and then coming to terms with the limitation of what lowly tellers are able to do.

For example after serving 300 people a day, a teller might not automatically know your account number just by looking at you. Also, the bank probably won’t be able to refund the money your wife spent from your joint account even if she spent it without your permission. And before you throw a fit about being absolutely sure that you set up an account and deposited money in that account and the bank"damn well better find my account and get me my money before I...” be sure you didn’t actually set up the account at the Wells Fargo across the street.

My favorite banking predicament to date though happened to Ebay just a couple of weeks ago. Ebay was working the drive-thru and a slightly-older-than-middle-aged woman drove up. She wanted to pull some money out of her account. However, when Ebay tried to complete this transaction he found that her account was overdrawn.

Customer: “What? How can it be overdrawn?”

Ebay: “Well Mam…in your account history I can…um….see a couple of…um…. different transactions that um…might have been…um…the problem.

Customer: “Well what are they?”

Ebay: Well…um….I’ll just um….give you a printout…so you can um…see…um…”

Now this exchange doesn’t make Ebay sound like the most articulate or helpful of bank employees. But I’ve seen Ebay in action and he is very articulate and yes, even perky when he’s in teller-mode. The problem here…the thing that was turning Ebay from perky/helpful bank teller to blathering squeaky voiced teen-geek was where the point of sale occurred (official bank-speak there).

The transactions were from what I guess you’d have to call a “specialty store” in the area. A store that specializes in special garments (and other items) of a romantic nature…if you know what I mean (wink-wink, nudge,nudge). This is the kind of store that there are probably a lot of in Las Vegas. But here in middle of Mormonland there’s only a few - actually I can only think of this one. This specialty store has a provocative flirtatious little name and has been savvy enough to promote their business by a couple of prominent billboards along the freeway – one of which Ebay passes every day on his way to and from work. And poor Ebay just couldn’t bring himself to say the name of this specialty store out loud through the drive-thru speaker to the slightly-older-than-middle-aged female customer and in front of his fully-grown-woman female co-workers….it's just not a good out-loud name.

Ebay told me this story with a kind of sheepish/mortified expression on his face like somehow he’d actually been the one that had gone to the “special store.” And I of course helped him out by laughing uproariously and reveling in his embarrassment and discomfort.

Poor Ebay. I like to think that specialty-store-lady may have appreciated Ebay’s manners -what a nice young man to be so discrete regarding her somewhat blue transaction history. The truth of course is a lot less noble...but a lot funnier.

Honestly!

Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 9/9/2010)

If I only had a little humility, I'd be perfect. - Ted Turner

In our staff meeting at school the other day, we were trying to come up with some writing prompts for an upcoming writing assessment. Basically we want to see how well the kids can write, spell, structure an essay, punctuate etc. These assessments usually revolve around a persuasive essay, so we try to come up with a couple of prompts (ideas to prompt the students to write) that the kids may actually be able to form an opinion about.

Because these are kids that are in detention, we were also trying to kick around some ideas that might introduce some ethics into the discussion. We kicked around some variations of the following ideas:

- How would they advise a younger sibling or friend that was considering experimenting with drugs?

- Should young people be compelled by law to go to school or should it be their choice?

- If you knew you could steal something and get away with it should you do it?

The kids here would definitely have opinions and mostly likely experience with each of those questions, and I do too. I don’t even have to think about the first one as I have come to have strong opinions about drug use. It wouldn’t take me long to make an argument either about kids, society and education. But that last one, if I’m being really honest with myself, does make me pause a little bit. It’s not that I believe that stealing should ever be condoned. It’s just that I know I’d have to think about it a little more…because recently I did.

A couple of months ago, for some reason I can’t recall now, I had some cash to deposit in my back account. I do remember that it was $180. I hardly ever deposit cash into my account, plus $180 is kind of a lot of money for me, so you’d think I’d remember where it was coming from, but I can’t. So at the bank drove around to the drive-thru, which was very busy with several cars in each line. After a few minutes wait, it was my turn and I put the deposit slip with my $180 in the “little-tubie-thing” and up it went. A few minutes later I heard the teller’s voice on the intercom asking if that would be all for today? Yep, that’s all - and back the tubie-thing came with my receipt. Except, that wasn’t all that was in the tubie-thing. Along with my receipt showing that a deposit was made into my account was the envelope that had held the $180 cash – with the cash still in it.

Now before you call the police or the bank authorities or whatever I should tell you that I sent the tube back up, called the teller and told him that it looked like he’d forgotten something. He was very relieved and thanked me profusely because that would have been some trouble for him at the end of the day. But I have to tell you I was still kind of bothered by the whole episode. I was bugged because even though I did the right thing, I had really considered not doing the right thing. When I saw that money still in the tube along with the receipt proving that according to the banks computer the money had gone into my account, I realized that there was nothing to stop me from just driving away with twice the money I had started out with. Wow, that would really come in handy. What would I be able to do with that extra cash? $180 wouldn’t mean anything to the bank, but it surely would to me and it’s not my fault that the teller was too dumb to keep the cash.

And then, just like any other self-respecting criminal element, I started considering the odds – how likely was it that I’d get caught? That teller would be short at the end of the day when he tried to balance – probably $180 short. He would then go back over his transactions for the day and that $180 deposit would probably stand out for him. There’re also a lot of cameras around the drive through. If he’s missing $180 they might decide to check back through the video of the day. Would they be able to see that I had pulled more than just a receipt out of the tube? And even if they couldn’t, be sure about what I pulled out of the tube, it’s not like they don’t know who I am, my name , address, phone number, account number – would they call me to ask? And what would I say?

All of these schemes and possibilities flew through my head in the space of about 15 seconds or so it’s not like I’m a candidate for the next Ocean’s Eleven heist. But I still considered it - and pretty seriously for a few seconds there anyway – which totally blows! I am a mother for heaven’s sake! I have raised children and given the honesty speech more times than I can count. I have sat through countless hours of religious training of one sort or another that has included A LOT of exhortations towards honesty. Come to think of it I have given countless hours of religious training myself with plenty of lessons for the kids about honesty. I have worked in public education for the past 12 years where the moral character of teachers and staff is pretty important. And I have had plenty of chit-chats with one kid or another about how important it is to be honest. But even after all of that I was still tempted by the dark side.

Sigmund Freud once said “Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise.” So maybe that trip to the bank was the moral equivalent of a weekly spin class and 15 sets of crunches. I recognize that at the end of the day the really important thing is that I was honest. I guess my problem is there are so many thing that I struggle with, I suppose I thought that stealing was one that I could check off the list. Maybe though, much like my abs, the muscles get soft if you don’t use ‘em. All I know is that after the rush of decidedly unethical thoughts and feelings I had while sitting in my car at the bank drive-thru that day - I'm keeping it on the list.

Virtual Romance

(Originally posted on Fourperspectives.blogspot.com on 8/5/2010)

My idea of good company is the company of clever, well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company.
Anne Eliot from Jane Austen's Persuasion

I have to confess that I’ve become a little bit addicted to period drama’s lately. I’m sure this has to do with the pathetic lack of romance in my own life at present.

If memory serves, I do like actual personal one on one kind of romance and I do miss it sometimes. But I also have to admit that if I were confronted with the opportunity for an actual romance right now, I’d, first of all be just super surprised, but I also think I’d be pretty reluctant, reticent and frankly suspicious. That’s kind of sad to admit, but on this day - at this time in my life I think I have to say it’s the truth. I’m just not sure I’d be up for it unless the good Lord himself came down and gave me a sign.

Thus in lieu of the opportunity or serious desire for actual romance, I guess I’m opting for virtual romance – and virtual 19th century romance at that.

Now of course I’ve gone through pretty much every version of every Jane Austen novel committed to film. And then there are the novels of the Bronte Sisters (Toby Stephens in Jane Eyre - oh my heart!). And I recently discovered a wonderful 2004 BBC miniseries based on a novel by Elizabeth Gaskell called North & South. It’s not the U.S. Civil War miniseries from the 80’s. The BBC North & South is about a man from the Industrial North of England and a woman from the agrarian South. The lead is a British actor named Richard Armitage who I think I’d just like to follow around for a while just to hear him speak.

Playing the armchair psychologist for a bit, my feeling is that I gravitate towards these movies right now because they provide me with the companionship of ideal people in controlled gracious circumstances. The characters behave in ways I dream people ought to – including myself. These stories are made out of beautiful art that itself is pleasing and gratifying and, unlike real life, I don’t have to worry about how things are going to turn out because I already know that, after a little bit of trouble, thing will come out alright in the end. I hope to be braver, more open and more optimistic about actual romance in the future (although I'd still be super surprised). But for now when I watch Edward Ferrars propose to Elinor Dashwood or Anne Eliot reconcile with Captain Wentworth - for a little while I am not so lonely.
And seriously ladies - check out Richard Armitage as John Thornton in North & South - oh my heart!