March 28,2010

When I saw the President’s face, I tried to delude myself by thinking, I know how he feels.

We’ve all been in the company of well-meaning commenters who reply in the most inappropriate ways in the face of good news. I saw it all on his face, the desire to acknowledge the exuberant expression of support along with the dismay that such a thing was ever uttered, let alone in earshot of others, not to mention microphones.  I’ve been in that position, but I have to admit, more often I am the one spouting off those well-meaning comments, much to the dismay of my family and friends.

In the movie, P.S. I love you, the character played by Harry Connick, Jr. explains that he blurts things out, no filter. No kidding.

There are now names for all kinds of quirky personality traits. People who insisted on checking all the faucets before leaving on vacation used to just be called control-freaks, or anal-retentive, but now they suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and there’s medication for it.

Students who were poorly raised and had no respect for their elders were considered rude and insufferable, but are now diagnosed with Conduct Disorder and are to be sympathized with since they can’t help themselves.

I wonder what those of us, myself and Joe Biden included, will be called when they come up with a great new medicine for our lack of filter about what to say and what not say, and when.

Just the other day I was attempting to find common ground with the other parents at and the talk turned to former colleagues. I blurted out, “Well, she was a b@&$ch!” Later my husband explained that if I have nothing nice to say….

I know this in my head. I was taught this as a child. You’d think I’d have learned this golden rule through the school of hard knocks, or through the  immense embarrassment of the time I am telling everyone who is listening that so-and-so is so prissy she doesn’t have a corncob up her butt, because she’s wound so tight you can’t get a toothpick up there. No one laughed because  so-and-so was right behind me. Still, I run my mouth.

I thought when I quit drinking, I’d also quit telling people they should invest in veneers for thier teeth, or my friends that their bar-b-ques would be more fun if they’d play music I like.

But, no, though drinking did make my running mouth wrose, sobriety has not been a cure. Just last week when my son got beat in his race at a track meet, I consoled him by pointing out that he did crush the next kid in the race. Of course, that kid’s parents were sitting right behind me.

I think this affliction might be genetic, since my son also seems to suffer with it. Just yesterday he told me the wrinkles on the sides of my face looked like an accordion. When I looked hurt, he asked, “What, is that bad?”

If it is genetic, then Fox News should take a chill pill and relax. Vice President Biden can’t help it when, in his excitement, things slip out.

Besides, hopefully now, when the do come up with a name for this affliction and a new medication to solve it, with health reform, I will be able to afford my prescription.

This week I will bite my tongue so I don’t have to pull my foot out of my mouth later.

March 21, 2010

Ahhh! Spring Break. Remember that week off this time of year when all you had to worry about was getting a tan and watching as many music videos as possible before your mom got home and made you turn the channel?

Even after I joined the working force, I still had spring break because I was a teacher. Unfortunately, because I was a teacher, I usually had stacks and stacks of writing projects to grade over spring break. I was able to sit outside and get a tan while grading, but watching tons of television until my husband got home and turned it to ESPN was out of the question.

No longer a teacher, now I was only able to squeeze in two days for spring break, but what a glorious two days they were.

On one day I drove past a house on the north bench that has metal sculptures throughout the yard. I’ve driven by many times, admiring the sculptures, but this time was my lucky time. The artist, Michael, was outside. I introduced myself and he gave me a private tour of his work. We chatted about his view, his adobe house and his lovely pieces of art and I purchased a piece to bring home with me. I had been saving a spot in my garden and now Bunny Angel, formerly known as Crank, has joined my Friar, Mother Mary, Indian woman worker and Indian mother sculptures. They make a lovely family and Michael made me smile the rest of the day.

Then I received in the mail a copy of my frined Eva Schlesinger”s latest book of poetry, View from My Banilla Vanilla Villa available from Dancing Girl Press http://www.dancinggirlpress.com/banilla.html.  The poems made me smile and was a great afternoon read. My favorite line is “She wanted an inmate to imprison her in a life sentence./ A commitment that didn’t start or end…”; from the poem “Object of Desire”. Of course, I loved the entire poem, “Friend or Pho”. I am so happy for Eva as we met over four years ago, both attending a writer’s conference, neither of us published at the time. Thinking of Eva’s success made me believe in future success for both of us.

Then this Saturday I attended a book signing by Toi Moore ( www.toimoore.com ). It was so fun to hear about her journey as a writer, to share in round table format discussion with other writers our journeys as writers, and to be inspired by a woman committed to her craft.

Okay, so today has been great too! I had lunch with my mother-in-law and mused about how lucky I am to be married to her wonderful son. And I got her in the bargain.

No, I didn’t get everything on my list done, not even close. But, I think I did a great job of squeezing lots of joy and fun into a short spring break.

And, you’ll all be glad to know, I only laid in the sun once. I did wear sunscreen!

This week I will carry with me the joy and fun I experienced this spring break throughout my work week!

March 14, 2010

At my recent tax appointment, my tax man dropped this piece of wisdom on me, “You get to a certain age, look around and think, ‘Yeah, this is good enough.’ Then life becomes easier.”

So I started looking around because I’m all about life being easier. Maybe I’m of a certain age. And I thought, yeah, this is good enough.

Well, I thought that, then I thought, but having someone around to cook me dinner each night would make things better than good enough. I tried to talk my mother-in-law into moving in and  had visions of home cooked dinners most nights of the week. I didn’t tell her this. I tried to sell her on the idea of not being lonely. She worried my obnoxious dogs would knock her down every time she went outside. At least that is what she said to my face. She’s pretty smart, maybe she saw through my plans.

So, I stop and get take out, unless my husband is getting home early enough to cook.

Then the other morning, I looked around and thought, yeah, this is good enough, but what would make it better would be a bed partner who knew how to cuddle without groping. Yes, ladies, twenty-four years of marriage and still I’m usually on the defense when it’s cuddle time in bed.

Then today, as I was folding laundry, I thought, yeah, this is good enough, but having someone to do the laundry would definitely make it better.

Obviously it is not good enough if I keep thinking it would be better if only…  So, I wondered how could I get to good enough. I needed someone to cook dinner each night, cuddle without groping and do the laundry. It dawned on me – I need a Russian Wife.

Really, how expensive can a Russian wife be? An airplane flight from Russia on Lufthansa Airlines is only $462. A marriage license in California is only $45. There is plenty of room in my house, so there is no expense there. Bread and vodka are cheap, right?

So I got on my email and waited for one of those great messages telling me there is a Russian wife waiting for me.  Anastasia sent a nice email telling me “I wait for you”.

I wanted to open the email, not because I wanted to see what Anastasia looked like – if she does laundry, cooks dinner and it’s dark while we’re cuddling – who cares. It was more about wondering what the fees were and how long before she got here.

Then I remembered an email I opened years ago that seemed harmless enough. But, it was filled with fists and body orifices that still make me flinch today.

Plus, I asked Bill for a divorce – just on paper, and he said no. But he did promise to cook an extra night this week, put away his laundry and try not to grope too much. And he gave me that puppy-dog eyed smile and I thought, yeah, life is good enough.

This week I will appreciate my Polish husband rather than wish for a Russian wife.

March 7, 2010

Today while I was pulling out my exercise ball (please ignore that it is March and I am just now pulling this piece of exercise equipment out of the closet with only a few weeks until spring), I noticed it was a bit deflated. Which got me to thinking, if something in your life was becoming a bit saggy and wrinkled, would you throw it away, or plump it up?

Grapes or raisins? I used to prefer raisins. Now they just stick in my teeth. There are lots of foods that now get stuck in my teeth. Bread gets stuck in my teeth. Think of how happy I was when a disposable toothbrush was invented (sorry Mother Earth). Toothpicks are just so low class but bread in your teeth is so … gross. The aging gods smiled on me in my time of need. I try to stick to grapes, unless I’m eating chocolate.

Mary Tyler Moore or Raquel Welch?  I’m aging and I know that each small choice I make is either speeding that aging process up, or allowing it to meander at a nice reasonable pace. Sure, I wish I had listened to my best friend in High School who told me to wear sunscreen – and a bra. I used to look like a grape, now I look more like a raisin, in lots of specific places, some of which I cover with a form flattering bra.

So, do I choose Mary Tyler Moore as my goal for aging gracefully, skinny and severe? Or do I choose Raquel Welch as my goal, voluptuous and happy?

It’s difficult because I have always been thin. I understand thin. I enjoy shopping for small sizes and having lots of room around me in my airplane seat. Still, I live next to a retirement community and some of those thin older women look like raisins in the sun. I don’t find the look attractive.

So, okay, I admit I drink coffee with Raspberry Chocolate Creamer every morning – even in the summer when I pour it over ice. One alarmed girlfriend told me, with my best interests at heart I’m sure, “Do you have any idea how many calories you are consuming before you’ve even eaten breakfast?” I was spinning from a sugar/caffeine high so couldn’t explain to her that since I never actually measure my creamer (I just pour until the coffee looks more like light chocolate milk) because then I might decide it’s too many calories and stop treating myself every morning to a delicious cup of coffee that I deserve for even getting up given my age and attitude, no I had no idea.

Sure, rarely a day goes by that I do not eat chocolate for lunch. Really, it’s only drizzled over the granola bar or over the yogurt I’m eating as dessert for lunch. Who says there is no lunch dessert? No one I know!

Okay, so I might eat a few cookies a day. I’ve only had four so far today and I’m not sure one even counts because it was cookie dough and don’t the calories get activated in the oven?

And, yes, it is true that I can’t stand to be hungry. Why at my age would I want to have a stomach ache I can prevent by driving through Del Taco? That’s just silly.

Besides, voluptuous and happy is much more my style, at least at my age.

This week I will strive toward grape-ness by plumping up my deflating body with chocolate, drive-through and any other food that strikes my fancy.