From The Frontlines

vaya con Dios

2010-01-06T11:33:00.003-05:00

Years ago, I had a dear elderly native Hawaiian friend, Sadie, who happened to be the wife of our minister at the time. Though her husband was the official minister, it was often Sadie, who had the most to teach, passing down from woman to woman, her own brand of Christianity, combined with a dash of native knowledge. Sadie was very spiritual, very in tune to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. She taught me to stop, to listen, to slow down and get direction. The directions are there, if only you are tuned in. Dear Sadie passed on several years ago, but the gift that Sadie left with each of the women she mentored lives on.

Recently I have felt something was out of balance and finally slowed down enough the last few weeks to listen for the promptings of the Spirit. I have been tending this blog for three years now, and for two years prior to this blog, I was writing for another site. It has been fun, it has been a great learning process, but I realized that the blog has also taken me away from a lot of things I enjoy.

Tending a blog is time consuming, writing something “read worthy” takes time, reading other people’s blogs and commenting takes time. Since I have been blogging there has been less time for walks in the woods with my husband, for throwing a stick out in the lake for the dogs, less time for baking bread, for growing tomatoes, less time for painting, for reading real books, less time for playing games at the kitchen table with my family, for writing letters to friends who have post office boxes and no computers, less time for sitting out by the chiminea at night telling stories…and less time for just being.

I realized that I am always in my head with studies or the blog, connecting with new people…but spending less time with the people within my own walls. It has begun to feel as though I am servant to the blog. It feels like an obligation, which subtracts from time I could be spending, doing something else, with people I love.

My life is intertwined with the lives of others, my children, my husband, and my friends. Because of that, they are often the subject of, or jumping off point, for many of my posts. So, in reflection, I realized that I don’t feel right about exposing them, letting others into their lives, who they might not wish to have peeking in on them. It feels like we all (the world in general) have far too much transparency these days, and not enough delicious anonymity.

I have been sitting with these promptings for a while now, letting it soak in, meditating on it, praying about it and I have come to the conclusion that the season for this blog is over. It has born its fruit and the season of its usefulness has past. Everyone’s lives are taking off in happy new directions and I need to be fully present to really enjoy it.

So, thank you for reading, for being a part of this season with me. Thank you for the great comments, the laughs through the past few years….. and most of all, thank you for the support you have given me in times of need.

Peace be with you.

Mary Alice.

Things that Make Me Ill

2009-12-31T15:08:00.007-05:00

I’m sick of butt cracks. Seriously. Enough. No one wants to see your nasty ass butt cracks. Stop inflicting the sight upon the world.

I am sick of political catch phrases like shovel ready, death panals, etc.

I am sick of adults that need cajoling, or hand holding to do whatever it is they simply should just shut up and do. Additionally, I am sick of adults that whine about how things are unfair, or someone does more or less than they do. What is unfair, that you are no longer 13? Yeah, life’s a bitch.

I am sick of people talking on cell phones in public restrooms. Enough already. You may not care if your friend hears YOU peeing and flushing…but maybe WE don’t want your friend hearing US peeing and flushing. Besides it’s unsanitary and gross. Just. Stop.

I am sick of people who clap for their preschooler every time they. Do. Anything. Sweet Fancy Moses, the kid just slid down a slide assisted by GRAVITY. Why are you clapping for that? Clap if he constructs a double helix out of duplos, or picks up a violin and plays you some Bach.

I am sick of facial piercings. Seriously, are you really so unique if 478 of your facebook friends look just like you?

Fuck. I am so sick of the word fuck. It isn’t even shocking anymore except to the tall black boot wearing, martini sipping, suburban mommies that are afraid of aging, and think they are hip, edgy, and bad to the bone using it. For goodness sakes, move outside your circle ladies; come to class with me so you can hear how tired the word is. It’s been woooooorn out. In my classroom, any given fall morning, you’ll hear a version of this conversation: “Fuck man, did you see the fucking game last night. What the fuck was that fucking fucker doing? I was fucking screaming at the fucking TV, slide you stupid fucking motherfucker, slide.” The morons have killed a perfectly good shocking word by over use. We are all so fuck numb, the word couldn’t get a rise out of a penis anymore and there is nothing nastier to even replace it with. There is nowhere to go with this but back to civility.

I am sick of wine. And wineries. And vintners.

I am sick of people who drink too much.

I am sick of baseball caps.

I am sick of graphic t-shirts.

I am sick of huge SUVs ..and the Smart Car.

I am sick of yoga. I think yoga is good for you, yes. But to make a lifestyle of it, buy magazines about, go to hot rooms for it, and wear your 60 dollar yoga pants around in the Trader Joe’s so people will know you do it? Crazy. Do your yoga exactly like you floss your teeth, quietly, in private, without telling me about it.

I am sick of recipes with exotic ingredients that can only be found at specialty shops, used primarily for the purpose of feeling superior about your great foodieism and weird ingredient knowledge. I am also sick of bland, tasteless, over processed foods. I am just as sick of Wonderbread as I am of acai berries.

I am sick of hearing about people’s gluten allergies.

I am sick of white Anglo Saxon people taking up other ethnic religions because they think they sound “cooler” than simply following their own ethnic religious traditions. Want to see an idiot? Watch a long haired white guy beating on a Native American drum. Give it a rest, Soaring White Love Eagle.

Questions That Keep Me Up At Night

2009-12-30T13:43:00.005-05:00

What’s up with the difference in time it takes for a man or woman to use the restroom for ahem…well.....you know…Number Two? Seriously, what takes men so long?

Is this some adaptation that women have evolved into? After thousands and thousands of years we women have adapted super strong, lightening quick, shoving muscles, so that we can …you know…eliminate and rush back to watching the kids before they toddle off and drown?

Men, who generally are not paying strict attention to where there children are, unless their wife has been actively glaring at them to aid them in their focus, have not had to adapt these particular muscles and therefore it is a longer more stressful process? Is this what has happened in our evolutionary history to account for the time difference? Really, I want to know.

It has been suggested to me, by someone that I've known a while, that perhaps men just spend longer, so they can escape. Hmmmmm…while having to sit in the odor of their own…well…you know? That would be desperation I would think.

Anyway, another thing, why are men consistently surprised by the time on the clock when they exit the bathroom finally? Time is not suspended when you close the bathroom door. It still elapses. I have watched father, brothers, husband, son, nephews…all look at the clock with that surprised, eyebrows up, “Hey, how’d THAT happen” look when exiting the bathroom. Really?

These are the questions that keep me up at night.

New Year's Predictions

2009-12-29T14:07:00.006-05:00

Many of you know that I came from an extremely large, unconventional family. We have a tradition in our family of making New Year's Predictions for one another. Yes, that is right, we can see into the future…with alarming accuracy. The predictions made by each individual, about each of their family members, is recorded in a leather bound journal and read with much fanfare on New Year's Day of the following year. This way we can keep tally and crown The Years New Most High Predictor/ress. Then the predictions for the new year are made, entered in the journal and the cycle begins anew.

It is not that we have the corner market on clairvoyance, but simply that we have well honed observational skills. You see, the great thing about having such a large family is that it fine tunes ones sociological expertise. If one wants to study patterns of human behavior, you have this vast group of people you listen to and watch all the time. When you really know someone well, you can easily see into the future. It is a very simple formula really, past behavior predicts future behavior. Okay, there are some people that would take offense to the very idea…but not my family. Oh no. We have taken the knowledge of one anothers predictibility and raised it to a new art form.

Alan Kay, an American computer scientist once said, “The best way to predict the future is to invent it.” This is true, but only if we can overcome our propensity for sameness and really stick with whatever future we want to invent. In our family we would say, that though it is certainly possible to change, with some effort, really, the most reliable way to predict the future is to look to the past. We humans have great difficulty breaking patterns; we are truly creatures of habit. According to John C. Norcross, a professor of psychology at the University of Scranton who has been conducting research studies on resolutions, by June of any given year 46 percent of people who originally made resolutions will have kept them. 40 percent of American’s do not bother to make any resolutions in the first place, thinking they are too difficult to keep, so why bother?

In light of the knowledge that it so difficult for humans to keep resolutions and alter their behavior, it is far easier to predict what someone will actually do, than to make resolutions to change something. And far funnier too. One example of that fact is the prediction that my sister Katrina made that I would try to let my hair go au naturel (a nice combination of dead mouse in dishwater and gray) but by the end of the year I would freak completely out during a particularly ugly feeling PMS cycle and dye my hair blond again. And yes, I must say, she did hit the nail on the head with this prediction.

So, if New Year's Resolutions haven't been panning out for you and yours, you all may wish to try a really fun new tradition and simply predict the future instead.

Who Are You and What Do You Really Want?

2009-12-27T19:05:00.011-05:00

We all have homes full of furniture. Some furniture we bought on purpose, some furniture we scrimped and saved for, some we splurged on. Some furniture we bought because we couldn’t afford what we really wanted, so we settled. Some furniture we dealt with because it was handed down to us, and hell, it did provide a soft spot to sit. Am I right? Some of it we love. Some of it we hate. Some of it we compromised on.

So, let’s pretend for just a moment that all of our household goods vanished. Like, I dunno, it was loaded in a very large shipping container during a transatlantic move…and whoops…. it fell off the ship. Or. Your husband loaded it in a U-Haul truck and lost his brakes going down Wolf Creek pass and the whole damn thing ran through a feed store at the bottom of the grade and was destroyed. Your husband miraculously survived the crash, although he sustained a strange brain injury that has rendered him unable to form a personal opinion about home furnishings and to become endearingly and completely reliant upon your good taste and decision making skills. Not that I’ve fantasized about anything like that. Ahem.

Anyway, however it happened, everything is gone. You have great insurance and you can start fresh.

Tell me. What would you do? Would you change your style?

Would you exchange the early 90s country quilted wall hangings for a chic modern look?

Would you hold a sad memorial service for the Lazy Boy recliner, or throw a party to welcome your new French Provincial dining room? Would you buy great art pieces?

Wave a happy goodbye to the plaid sofa and bring in the Asian influence?

Who are you; furniture wise, if money were of no object and all the stuff you have now had conveniently vanished?

As the Pages Turn

2009-12-22T09:52:00.004-05:00

I am reading a book that my BFF, Eeta, sent me for my birthday. Generally I can count on Eeta to send things that are full of humor, so, looking forward to a good dose of amusing escapism, I dove right in between the Christmas cookie baking and the addressing of cards.

So far, the heroine’s husband has left her for a younger woman, she finds out the younger woman is her own assistant, she gets let go and they give her job to her assistant, her mother gets breast cancer, she discovers her husband took the mother off the insurance to add to the new lover, he wants her to move out so he can move the lover into the home they shared for 25 years…and her cat has died.

It is called The Revenge of something or other…but, dear Gawd, I’m telling you, she better get to the revenge part, right quick, and it better be spectacular revenge, because I am nearing the end and still feel like I must impale myself on something for her.

How about you? Reading anything right now?

Estimated delivery, on, or about, Dec 26th

2009-12-18T16:33:00.007-05:00

Oh hello, sorry, pfffftt….just digging myself out from beneath a stack of text books, research papers, gift wrap paper, and unaddressed Christmas card envelopes.

“Sooooo this is Christmas and what have you done?”

Is it just me or does that John Lennon song smack of judgment? Bloody self-righteous hippie.

Right…soooooo………I know, I know, I’ve been MIA.

I never know if I’m coming or going during this time of year, what with the plethora of family birthdays in December. So many so, that we have officially banned sex during the month of March on my side of the family. When Jo announced that she and her husband were going to start trying for number two last year, she was sternly admonished by the sisters to wait until March was safely over to avoid yet another December birthday in the family. Yes, we are THAT way.

So…. my baby girl turned sweet sixteen, my niece turned three, my nephew turned 21, my other nephew turns 1, my brother-in-law turns... well we just won’t talk about that... my sister turned…well, we won’t talk about that either....and I turned…oh yeah, we really won’t go THERE.

Also, Military Man was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel at the beginning of the month. He had a great ceremony done by a dear family friend, who is our daughters’ god father. My mom got to be here for that and spent a week, which was the best birthday present I have had in ages.

Oh….and…additionally…. this time of the year holds college finals for me, which accounts for the text books, research papers, and unaddressed Christmas cards. I took my last final yesterday afternoon. Woooo hoooo. And, now, Christmas is in how many days? Oh Boy.

So, I thought I would post a photo of the bit of Christmassy stuff I have put together and tell Rescue Ranger that I did manage to bake those Peanut Butter Cookies he requested…look for the box of crumbs to arrive somewhere on, or about, December 26th, Honey…Mama loves you!

A Walk in the Woods

2009-11-29T14:22:00.003-05:00

A walk in the woods. Bare trees dance naked in the cold breeze. Shadows stretch long across the path, cast by tall tree trunks. Dry leaves rustle under foot. Late afternoon sunshine shines through the spray of water droplets shaken from the dogs after a swim in the pond. Running, kicking up leaves; the dogs chase and weave through the trees. Happy barks echo and startle a flock of wild turkey. “Stop” we call to the dogs. The dogs pause, startled as well, watching the ungainly flight of turkey silhouetted against the sky. We walk back slowly, smiling and savoring the moment. Outside away from the TV, away from the computer, away from the mall…outside…. deep in the woods, all is right with the world.

Perseverance

2009-11-19T09:19:00.006-05:00

Yesterday morning, I skipped off to college feeling all sassy, because I had an appointment with my advisor to schedule next semesters classes and I was pretty darn sure that this.was.it. It should be my last advisory meeting; I would be done with my community college and ready to transfer. I thought I had two requirements and maybe one elective to go. I was feeling good.

Until….my advisor showed me that he had messed up on our last meeting, last semester, and really I have five requirements left to go.

It is not cool to be a middle aged woman and blubber all over your child psych professor. Not cool at all. So, I sat there for the rest of the meeting smiling and nodding and trying to decide whether it would be better to take research methods in behavior sciences this spring semester on the web, or wait until FALL again…. next fall… Fall 2010…. and take it on campus. I waited until I had pulled the minivan back into my very own driveway before I let myself cry. I heaved my bookbag out of the minivan and kicked the leaves on the walkway. I slammed the kitchen door. I stomped through the house and snapped at the dog. I was mad. I was disappointed. I wanted to blame someone.

I called my sister Katrina and I boo-hoo-ed about how my lack of math background during the homeschooling years had set me back and I had had to start at the very basic math class…and therefore I am taking my sixth college math class this year, but it is the FIRST one that actually counts toward my degree requirement. I boo-hooed about having to transfer colleges when we moved from one state to another and about loosing credits through that process. I boo-hoo-ed about being older. I boo-hoo-ed because I have been working on this since fall of 2005 in between selling the house, moving, TDYs, the deployment, MM's masters degree, RRs graduations...yada yada yada. I boo-hooed because I have finished 59 credits with a nearly perfect GPA and I will have 75 credits logged before I can finally transfer…and that my transfer will have to be worked in between another move and what if the new state doesn’t honor all my credits?. I really boo-hoo-ed when she told me she had never had to take a single science lab for her college degree at.all. and there I was staring at a college catalog trying to schedule a third science class with a lab. I had a moment where I wondered if it was really all worth it?

I wrote a facebook status, stating my displeasure with finding out I still had five requirements to go.

And then my husband’s Auntie Fran commented on my post. She simply said, “you are on the right track. Keep up the good work.”

Aunt Fran, started college when she was 40. She had to start with the basic classes. Aunt Fran is dyslexic and had to overcome so much to write her papers. She traveled hours to get to her college. She kept going, even though it would have been easier to quit and just run her diner. She kept going because she knew she had more to offer herself and the world than good hamburgers.

It took Aunt Fran a long time to finish her degree. First she got her associates in town, and then she traveled even further to the university, driving almost two hours one way to attend classes until she graduated with her bachelor’s degree. Then she went off to another college even further away, a three hour drive, staying in a hotel or with family so she could take the classes she needed to earn her masters degree. Every time she went for a higher level degree, she had to travel still further to attend her classes. Two years ago, at age 70, Aunt Fran received her PhD.

I read Aunt Fran’s words, wiped my tears and put on my big girl panties. I got out my course catalog and I picked out the next semesters classes. I picked the classes out for myself, because I know I have more to offer the world than a good pot roast. I picked out the classes for Aunt Fran, because she has proven that it can be done, even if it isn’t easy, watching her with her own office and her own clients, I can see the worth brought by her struggles and perseverance, her education is a gift to those she serves. And lastly, I did it for my daughters, because I want them to know that they have the power to do whatever they set their minds to, even if it takes a long time to accomplish….who better to set the example than their mother?

Plain Old Tuesday? Are you sure?

2009-11-17T07:42:00.001-05:00

The Middle Child is at the gym by 6:00 each morning to run her drill team. I drop her off every morning since we are currently sharing a car and I need it during the school day. This morning, hearing no movement in her room, I went in at 5:40 am to check on her progress and found that she was still fast asleep.

“Hey, Monkey, aren’t you going this morning?”

Hazel eyes opened and blinked at me rather blindly, but she said nothing.

“Honey? Aren’t you going this morning?”

More blinking. Finally she said, “Going where?”

Now I was confused.

“Drill team? The place you go every school morning?”

“What?????”

“Drill team??? Don’t you have drill this morning?”

A.Very. Long. Pause.

“Isn’t it Thanksgiving?” she asked from beneath the quilt.

“What? Thanksgiving? No, it is not Thanksgiving”

“Oh. That’s weird, I guess I was dreaming.”

Later when she came into the kitchen I asked her if she would like a nice toasted warm Thanksgiving bagel.

“Mom, stop teasing me. The Wille’s were here in my dream. Why would the Wille’s be here unless it was Thanksgiving?”

Why indeed? Wille family, you are synonymous with Thanksgiving in The Middle Child’s subconscious.

Making Our Lists, Checking Them Twice

2009-11-13T07:44:00.003-05:00

Friday Flashback: Originally posted in December of last year.

I love my conversations with Sarah. We have been friends for eight years now, ever since Little Red and her daughter J. shared a desk and every waking moment in second grade. Sarah and I have similar aged children, we are similar ages ourselves, our husband’s have similar personalities, and we are dealing with similar issues currently…including spousal deployments.
This year has been teaching both of us to take better care of ourselves. To be our own advocates, and to be more selfish… in the best possible sense of the word.

Today, we were discussing things that we would like to do, but have never allowed ourselves the liberty of doing, because it might interfere with what we have perceived to be far more important – the immediate and ever changing plans of other family members.

Our scheduling something for ourselves might inconvenience others, or require their flexibility, rather than our own, so we just haven’t. It is part of the debilitating martyr mother and wife syndrome. We have, to our own detriment, dedicated ourselves to being completely devoted to the schedules of everyone else for the past 19 years, with the flexibility of professional contortionists.

Recently, it has dawned on both of us that this is not only to our own personal detriment, but really to the ultimate detriment of our own families. If we are not role models of a balance between family and a strong sense of self, for own daughters, we are certain to perpetuate a generational cycle of the dreaded martyr syndrome. Passing it on to our daughters, just as our own mothers have passed it to us. We must be the change we want to see.

Sarah said something so brilliantly profound during the course of this conversation, that I was stunned into a momentary silence of awe.She said something that I believe could be liberating for all mmm mmm mmm mmmiddle kerchew aged woman.

“You know,” Sarah said, “we might be a little young for a Bucket List, but we are just about the perfect age for a F*ck It List.”

Silence.

“What????” I finally stammered out, feeling a little shiver of joyful naughtiness run up my spine.

Sarah doesn’t swear EVER and it made her statement all the more wild….I had visions of the YaYa Sisterhood riding down the road in a convertible in their bras and panties ….that lusciously illicit feeling of wild liberation .

“A F*ck It List. It would be a list of all the things we would like to do for ourselves, but haven’t because we were doing things for other people…..and now we are going to just F*ck It and DO THEM.”

Oh, Sarah! You are the most brilliant woman I know! So, dear readers, get out your journals, lick your pencils, get to writing, and report back. Sarah and I both want to know what is on your F. I. List?

(Note: This was originally posted last year, since that time I have added to and changed my FI list.....have you? And if you were not in on this list the first time around, here is your chance to play along.)

Thankful Thursday

2009-11-12T08:03:00.001-05:00

Today is Thankful Thursday, the day I dedicate to gratitude for the week’s blessings here at my blog – both mine and yours. So much of the time we find things to complain about. Somehow, the list of things that aren’t going right seems to come off the tongue so easily. For some reason we are bit more reticent about listing our blessings. We find it far easier to complain about our lives to others, than to share all the things that are going well. Maybe sometimes we overlook our blessings, just take them for granted, or don’t recognize them at all. But, when you allow yourself the space to look at the week past, you will begin to recognize the blessings in your life….the people and the things that make a difference.

This week I am thankful for a fun evening out with my husband. A walk in the woods at sunset. Car rides and good conversations with my kids. My sister Katrina and her fiancé. My husband’s career which affords me the ability to go to school and not have to work outside the home. My friend Sarah, who makes me laugh. Pretty dresses. Good test grades….and my daughter’s opportunities for public speaking.

Now, list your own gratitude’s if you wish……..and then….. click on over to read Suburban Correspondent’s excellent post on the social benefits and broader understanding that military members gain simply by virtue of serving together. Our diversity and common mission allows for a better understanding of who America really is.

Thank You Readers:

2009-11-10T13:35:00.002-05:00

In just a few hours my readers have clicked in and given me all the data points needed for this project! Thank you all so much for participating in the poll.

Data Needed

2009-11-10T08:00:00.006-05:00

Dear Readers:

Do you have a moment to help a student out? This is for a statistics project and I need 50 participants (data points) Please simply answer the question ONCE so I have raw data to analyze.

This is to determine average family size and check for outliars (which totally would have been my family, but maybe Mary, one of eleven, will poll here as well and skew the data) So, including yourself, how many children (brothers and sisters) are/were in your family? And, yes, half siblings, that did not live with you full time, do count.

Isn’t technology great?

Thanks heaps and bunches.

Fort Hood

2009-11-06T09:44:00.002-05:00

Why? We all want to know why an Army major, a psychiatrist for God’s sake, why would he walk into a readiness center and start shooting his fellow soldiers? The very people he had taken an oath to protect and care for? Why? How?

It has shattered our sense of security. Military families feel safe within the gates of our bases. Our bases are places where you do not have to worry that you will be attacked. Where you SHOULD NOT have to worry. Where you can do your jobs, raise your kids, where you feel supported and SAFE with your fellow soldiers.

Spouses worry the whole time their active duty mates are deployed, we worry that we will get that knock at the door, the news from the commander and chaplain that our mates will not be coming home again, that we will never again see their smile or have the welcome home embrace. The parents of young soldiers are conscious every moment, tensed with an unspoken fear as our sons and daughters are deployed on a mission. When we finally have our loved ones home again, when they are back within the safety of our bases, we feel such a sense of relief. Yesterday, at Fort Hood that last measure of comfort was taken from all of us.

Keep the families of Fort Hood in your prayers.

Values

2009-11-05T13:19:00.007-05:00

Do you know people that constantly manage to work their favorable financial circumstances into almost every conversation?

You know the conversations.

They go something like this; you will be having a conversation about something like, I don’t know..apple pie…. and suddenly they will say something like, “You know, apples remind me of farms, and farms remind me of carrots, which reminded me of my new diamond ring, soooooo… how do you like the new 7 karat diamond my husband bought me simply because it’s Tuesday?”

Or, they tell you a cute story about how they were struggling to get everyone ready to go to church and then the baby pooped and they realized they had left their Kate Spade diaper bag in the Mercedes and they had no way to change the little pooper.

I really have not completely figured out the intent of finance dropping, whether it is intended to make you feel bad about your own circumstances, or simply to stroke their own ego and build a sense of superiority? In my opinion, either one is in poor taste. These conversations leave me feeling as though the finance dropper not only hoped to feel financially superior, but also made an assumption that I was not particularly bright, and would never notice their clever plan to disguise a message about their personal financial circumstances, into an otherwise ordinary exchange. There is an assumption that I would just absorb and recognize their financial superiority without realizing the desperate measures taken to assure themselves that I was indeed aware of their good fortune. I half feel sorry for them, in that they have such a deep feeling of inadequacy in some area of their lives that they must force this financial one-ups-menship on me in order to feel good about themselves….and yet the other part of me is just annoyed that they assume me dumb enough, or too polite, to listen without calling them out on their blatant passive aggressive behavior.

To me, this sort of financial conversation insertion is a complete intimacy killer.

In my mind, true friendship should never be about self promotion, or measuring yourself monetarily against those you spend time with. I have no issue with people having more or less than me. I am far more interested in who they are as a person, and if the world is made better by their presence. Are they funny? Are they loving? Are they thoughtful and caring? Are they responsible? Can they be counted on? Do they have integrity? Are relationships important to them? I am far less interested in what car they drive, or what designer diaper bag they carry. In fact, most of the time I don’t even notice those things, or if I do, I make no comment about them. And maybe, my lack of self elicited commentary on things they personally value, or think to be important, leads them to feel the need to point out those very things.

What motivates the need to let others know what we have?

I suppose that I talk a lot about having a “good” family, with bright and respectably behaved children and a good husband. Perhaps that is my personal idea of “wealth.” It occurs to me, that I place the highest value on having a family of good citizens, kind, hard working people that don’t simply take up space, but better their world. I work diligently to achieve that end and therefore, perhaps, I naturally feel compelled to share those successes with others. Do I slip those success stories into random conversations about apple pie? Well, no. I am much more up front about it. But, I do recognize that I tend to look down on those who value material things over family relationships.

Tis nearly the season for the annual holiday cards to be mailed off, replete with photographs and newsletters of our personal fortune. When you really think about holiday cards, you realize that they are a testament to what we value most - exotic vacations, adventure, toys, homes, careers, family. What values do you see reflected in your own cards and those you receive from others?

Because they are “our” values, do we find ourselves putting down the values of others that do not align with our own? And is a sense of value superiority really some basic primal human need?

I am Sorry that I am Not Cool Enough

2009-11-02T08:04:00.001-05:00

Dear Ladies at the Neighborhood Luncheon,

I am sorry that I disappointed you with how uncool I really was at yesterday's luncheon. You seemed so eager to get to know me initially, but I had all the wrong answers to your questions. I could see by your expressions, that you were less than impressed.

I am sorry that I brought homemade buttermilk biscuits with whipped honey butter as my contribution. I did not realize that biscuits were a grave social faux pas. Is it the carbs? The white flour? The fat? My family likes them. They like them a lot, slathered with butter. We eat them after we say grace. You know, when we thank God in the name of Jesus? I’m sorry. I forgot. Being Christian is very uncool as well. Jesus is so-not-hip.

Sigh.

I just can not get it right.

I did enjoy the stories of the gap years your children were taking to travel the world before they finally settled down at Standford, Yale, and Harvard. Your look of pity was unnecessary when you asked where my son was going and I told you he was enlisted in the Coast Guard. “Enlisted,” contrary to your preconceived ideas, is not code for “my child has a mental deficiency, could not make it in college and therefore was forced to enlist, since he had no other options.” On the contrary. My child is quite intelligent, had plenty of options, but decided to follow a sense of duty to serve his country. Is that wrong? He’s traveling the world too.

Also when you all shared a hearty chuckle while making fun of the local Community College that I am currently attending, it did not really make me feel comfortable sharing that fact with you. One of you was empathetic though, the one who stopped laughing and added that the Community College did serve a purpose for the unfortunate who had no other options. Yes, yes, I suppose that would be me; unfortunate financially challenged housewives and the teens that couldn’t enlist for medical reasons and didn’t have the grades for a real college.

I gathered from your pinched looks, when you asked where my daughter was applying to college, that state colleges are uncool as well? Jeeze, I did it again, showed how very unhip I am. Again, I am sorry to disappoint you. She did get a scholarship to attend a private college, I was going to mention that, but then I remembered that it was a Christian College, and thought that might detract from my cool creditably rating even further, so I just kept my mouth shut.

Yes, your expensive foreign cars are very nice. I have one too. But mine is a Honda…..errummm a Honda, minivan.

We use it to go on vacations, camping in uncool places like South Carolina and Utah. Yes, Yes, you did mention your family enjoys skiing the Alps for the holidays.

Sigh.

I think I’ll stop talking and just stuff my mouth with big white fluffy biscuits and butter.

Thankful Thursday (and an invitation to poll)

2009-10-29T07:31:00.003-04:00

It is Thankful Thursday once again. This week I am feeling very thankful- if not slightly awed, - by our many friends. Our son has been driving across the country to his newest assignment this week. He has driven from family friend, to family friend, and had a place to stay each night, all the way across this great country of ours. Home cooked meals and safe warm places to lay his head for the night. We are rich indeed with the blessings of many good friendships.

What are you thankful for this week?

Also, if you read The Women’s Colony, we have a set a polls up there, in order to determine how best to connect with our readers. Please go over and answer the questions…there are two parts to the poll so be sure to hit both links......it’s anonymous and easy, so even if you are a reader but non commenter you can participate.

A Little Something Pretty

2009-10-27T20:42:00.005-04:00

One fine day, in 1912, my Great-Grandmother Bertha had finally saved enough money to buy herself a little something pretty; which she had longed to buy for quite sometime. You see, Great-Grandmother Bertha had a husband, a very nice husband, but he was one link in a long generational line of giftedly useless males which have made up our family. These men are genetically predisposed to show their love through eminently practical gifts, such as a new fence to keep the chickens in, or a screen door to keep the flies out, or new rain gutters. All of which, have great use, to be certain, but sadly are not particularly pretty and are definitely not romantic.

After a few years of marriage and eminently practical gifts from her husband, Great-Grandmother Bertha got a clue and decided if she ever wanted anything pretty or romantic; it was all up to her. So, she saved her money, she took in laundry, and she took off their collars and turned them over and sewed them back on to make their shirts last longer, and she saved some more. Until, one day, she had finally saved herself enough.

That afternoon, she took her two little boys by the hand and walked into downtown Philadelphia to the jewelry store. There, she laid out the money that she had saved and bought herself a small gold ring, set with three perfect pearls. She wore this ring all of her life, until she was a very old woman, and then Great-Grandmother Bertha gave that ring to her oldest granddaughter, my mother Elle.

Elle had four daughters and when any of us wanted to feel pretty we took turns wearing that ring that our Great-Grandmother Bertha had so diligently saved for. We too, had a father who thought that a good gift might be new tires. And, while new tires are nice, even important, they just don’t make a girl feel pretty. We were glad Great-Grandmother Bertha had the foresight to provide generations of women with something of beauty.

One hot summer day in 1988, my sister Jo was wearing that pretty little gold ring with three perfect pearls, when she decided to stop by the river to cool off. Great-Grandmother Bertha had been a big boned woman of strong German heritage, so the ring was slightly too big for my sister. Jo decided to take the ring off and put it in the pocket of her jeans, which she folded ever so carefully and laid on the rocky beach. She went swimming in the cool clear water and had a wonderful time. She had such a nice time that she forgot all about the pretty gold ring with the three perfect pearls in her jeans pocket. She picked up her clothes, slipped her feet into her sandals and dripped her wet swim suited self right back home.

It was only later; around dinner time that she realized that the ring was gone. Jo, feeling terrible, told our mother that she had lost our Great-Grandmother Bertha’s ring at the river. Our mother commenced crying, grieving for the ring she was convinced could never be found, lying out on that expanse of river bar, with it’s perfect round river rocks.

I could not give up so easily on something that had taken our Great-Grandmother so long to save for, and that had meant so much to several generations of women. I could not imagine being unable to pass the ring down to a new generation. I could not allow the river to have that ring. So, the very next morning I went down and I walked a grid pattern all alone over those river rocks, stooped, scanning the shadows between every rock, until an hour later, when I had nearly given up hope, I spied that pretty little gold ring with three perfect pearls nestled against a golden river rock.

One day, maybe in 2012, one of our daughters will slip it on her finger and feel as pretty as their Great-Great-Grandmother Bertha did 100 years before, as she slipped it on her own finger in that jewelry store in The City of Brotherly Love.

So, dear reader, what have you scrimped and saved for, that just makes you feel pretty and happy every time you wear it?

Thankful Thursday

2009-10-22T15:57:00.004-04:00

Today I am thankful that I get to fly out to this guy's

graduation and promotion ceremony.

Tell me what you are thankful for this Thursday.

Head on over to The Women's Colony Kitchen

2009-10-21T15:35:00.005-04:00

Buenos diás. Today you can find me in The Kitchen over at The Women's Colony; talking about how I know that most builders are not cooks.

Aunt Laura

2009-10-20T08:18:00.004-04:00

My dear Aunt Laura passed away yesterday, during her afternoon nap. She was 94 years old. That is the way to go, I would say; just slip away one sunny afternoon.

I do not remember my Aunt Laura ever being in a bad mood, or having anything unkind to say about anyone. I am sure she had her uncharitable thoughts, but she did not feel the need to impress them on anyone else. In my memory she was always smiling, seemingly very content. She was a tall woman, with curly hair and sparkling blue eyes.

When I was young she would come to visit every March. She was not a big present giver, but a presence giver. When she was with you, she was fully there, undistracted, and in that, she made you feel important, even if you were only as tall as her elbow. Every visit, she would take me to the beach and we would take a long walk together, finding sea shells, laughing and talking. She really seemed to want to spend time getting to know you.

Her gifts to others were her time and attention. Her scrapbooks are filled with pictures of trips she had taken fishing and camping with her children and grandchildren. I can see them now, laughing next to a river..next to the ocean…while playing games in the camper.

I treasure the memories of our walks together and the important lesson she taught me. In order to show love, you need only show up, stretch out your arms, and fully engage.

Secret Saturday

2009-10-17T09:14:00.011-04:00

Instigated by a particularly interesting meeting of my Women’s Empty Nest Group, I have been thinking about things I have secretly wanted to do, but have put off for more pressing business; such as filling out school forms, saving money, chauffeuring youngens and putting dinner on the table every night.

These are things which some part of your being yearns to do, but you never really voice, least people giggle helplessly and then say, “Oh, I’m sorry…you mean you were serious?”

So here goes. You are only allowed to read my secret yearnings if you are prepared to answer in the comments with those of your own. Tit for tat you know.

#1. To act in a play. Not Broadway of course, but some small playhouse, some classic story….preferably while wearing some classic 1920-1940 clothing, red lipstick and smoking a long slender cigarette.

#2. To learn French and spend a few weeks in Paris. Take some cooking classes, visit St Luke’s where my Grandparents were married and the spots they frequented while they lived there.

#3. Go on an all women’s surfing safari.

#4. Learn to fly fish.. Fly fish in Scotland.

#5. Race sailboats.

#6. Go to the Kentucky Derby - mint juleps and enormous hats.

#7. Have both black AND brown dress boots. Seriously. I would like to feel rich enough not to have to choose between the two.

#8. Learn to play golf.

#9. Have a studio, where I could paint and leave all the damn stuff out all the time, instead of putting it away so I can use the space for another purpose, such as the dinner table!

#10. Get Lasik eye surgery so I could see to make it back to shore if I fell off my surfboard or sailboat!

#11. Take a cross country road trip with my BFF in a red convertible for our Big 0 birthdays.

And now, it's your turn:

Referral

2009-10-16T15:11:00.001-04:00

Go read this post today: Health Reform from a Provider's Perspective.

De- Femed, De-uterized, De-fallopianed?

2009-10-15T07:25:00.010-04:00

Last night Eeta (my BFF) and I were enjoying a very leisurely philosophical telephone conversation -since our husbands and children were gone, and therefore we wouldn’t be interrupted by requests to do, or find, anything for anyone.

We hit a wide variety of important topics, from whether she should color her hair again, to whether my crow’s feet could now officially be called “talons.”

We discussed the reason why women’s magazines tend to contain short articles on a wide array of topics pertaining to women’s lives; how to choose a contractor, how to hide vegetables in a meatloaf, how to get skinny in two weeks, bake a sinful chocolate cake, recover your dining room chairs,

end the homework hassle, perform oral sex, improve your gas mileage by properly inflating your tires, pick a preschool, improve the family’s spiritual life and get the best tax break from your investments…all covered in a single issue.

While men’s magazines tend toward single subjects of interest. For example:

Then we discussed a friend whose husband had been fretting, complaining and literally losing sleep listening to their toilet run at night, but had not had a moment to fix it as there was lot deadlines consuming his time at work. When he left on a business trip, she thought she would be helpful, call a plumber and have the toilet taken care of so that he did not have to fuss with it when he got home and they could just enjoy doing something together instead.

When he returned and heard the blissful sound of silence, he asked what had happened to the toilet. She explained that she had had a plumber come in to fix it for him; fully expecting him to be pleased that she had wanted to lift that extra stress from him. Far from pleased, he came unglued. Apparently, in his mind, she had called into question his competency as a man… by enlisting the paid services of another man to fix something in his house.

She had emasculated him.

Eeta and I do not understand that line of reasoning. At. All.

Eeta said, “You know if David hired a maid service for me I wouldn’t take it that I was a terrible housekeeper, I would think he loved me so much he wanted to pamper me. I wouldn’t be de-de-de???? Hey, what do you call the female equivalent of being emasculated..de-femed? De-uterized? IS THERE a feminine equivalent to the word emasculated?”

And so dear reader, that is today’s question. Is there a feminine equivalent to emasculation? If so, what is it…and if not…why not?