No Privacy

I'm watching two news people discuss the Caylee Anthony case, which continues to get more bizarre. Now they've discovered a heart sticker on the child's remains. The reporter is discussing the dream team of attorneys and forensic experts assembled for the defense and throws into the mix, " ... the Anthonys are deeply in debt." Probably the death of their granddaughter and the charges facing their daughter are top of mind. When the dust settles, will it really be necessary for the general public to know this factoid about their finances?

If you've ever made a late payment or missed a debt, you know what it's like to be tracked down like a dog. If you've been married before, creditors call anyone and everyone remotely associated with you, your exes, their exes, parents, etc. I recently received some junk mail for -- get this -- my husband's exwife's exhusband. This was just a stupid leaflet but I'm sure we've all received calls and mail for each other. Once a name or address changes on a document, anyone with access to your credit report can look up all kinds of information.

Remember the childhood threat of "Don't do that -- it will go on your permanent record." It's true; it just wasn't explained very well.

Facebook and other social networking sites allow us to connect but they also steal a bit of our privacy. I belong to some but I'm leery. I cringe at some of the things I see while browsing these sites. I'm a little "out there" with this blog but it's nothing incriminating to me or others. So what if you learn that I've lived my entire 40s with oldies. It's true and it's part of my permanent record.

Speaking of privacy, there is none for my oldies either. I know who's up in the middle of the night. I know all medical issues and medications partly because I"m nosy and partly because we discuss everything incessantly. I know when it's naptime because I walk around by myself, look at the clock and think, "Seriously?" (It's kind of like kindergarten when you could be happily coloring or playing a game and the teacher would announce, "Get your sleepy mat -- it's time to lie down." That always annoyed me.) Now I get frustrated because I never learned to nap. I can barely sleep at night.

Of course, my oldies know far more about me than they would like.

Defining The Successful Life

An attorney I know recently recommended a book to me. He's familiar enough with many of the issues in my life so I took his recommendation to heart and checked it out of the library. The book is "Living A Life That Matters," by Harold S. Kushner. The subtitle is "Resolving the Conflict between Conscience and Success." This is the same author who wrote, "When Bad Things Happen to Good People," which I also read.

I wholeheartedly recommend this book. It is an interesting mix of history, biblical tales, psychology and human interest stories. Anyone who struggles with the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other will identify with many of the examples. (If you are not one of these people, please let me know your secret.)

It is a great testament to the impact our lives have on others, even when we are unaware of it.

I Love You but I Don't Like You Right Now

Do you experience this feeling? I do. A lot. I also tend to zoom in on one occasion, one comment, one offense and fret about it. The other day, one of my friends told me to "let it go." Good advice but I'm not skilled at it. I prefer to beat it to death. I'm convinced it's a genetic disease.

Anyone who's been in a marriage or a relationship for longer than six months knows this feeling. I don't trust people who won't admit to it. They may be kidding themselves but they're not kidding me.

You might think I'm only referring to marital relationships but that is not true. I've been in this place with friends, children and parents. Okay, truthfully, with the parent thing, it's only my mother because my father lets her do the dirty work. This does not make him weak; it makes him smart. I could not hang up on him but my mother and I have moved it to an art form. It's not an offense -- one of us immediately calls back.

I think this is one of the greatest gifts you can give a child. The ability to speak his or her mind, the ability to apologize, the ability to stand back and realize where the fault may be. The ability to argue a position and make the case.

In my childhood, I was allowed to disagree. I was allowed to make my case. Sometimes I won and sometimes I lost but I learned to do it respectfully.

Neither of my parents are attorneys, nor am I. But, they would've served our judicial system well.

Second Opinions

Anger is not a bad thing. Sometimes it spurs you into action.

You know, anger is an alternate of scared. It's the same emotion, just spun in a different direction.

My doctor (saint-in-training) welcomes second opinions. He often refers us to someone else with additional expertise in a particular area. Depending what ailment was plaguing the oldies, he would make sure we saw the right person.

My computer guy welcomes another opinion. Houseboy does not get offended if I call in someone else for a tree problem. When Dr. Gwen was my minister, she often encouraged me to talk to another minister for guidance.

People who are secure do not get offended when someone requests a second opinion. If my attorney didn't feel comfortable with a second opinion, I'd get mighty suspicious.

I'm pushy and often overstep my boundaries. If I love you, you need to accept this about me. I'm forcing someone I love to get a second opinion. When I hear, "Well, I don't want to offend Dr. So and So...." I want to scream.

Instead, I make the appointment anyway. They can get mad at me later.

Here She Comes Again

We went to a party the other night. I had a question for my dermatologist. So I worked the room until I could get her alone and say, "Am I candidate for XXX?" She pulled me into a corner and gave me her opinion.

Earlier that week, I had a legal question about the oldies. I ran into an attorney and later a judge that I know. I asked them both.

Sometimes I meet the husband at the club for dinner. He is often playing cards with my Internist. He treats the oldies too so I can ask my questions.

There have been homes I'm curious about. I have friends who are Realtors. They look up the stats and even take me through them, knowing full well that I have no intention of buying.

I try to return the favor. If someone asks my opinion about their writing or a marketing project (especially if they have my medical or legal records,) I am there.

Still, I wonder. When I walk in a room, do these people think, "Oh no, here she comes again."

Without A Net

I like knowing how to reach people. I can become a little obsessive.

When the oldies are here, I call my/our doctor at least twice a week. (He tolerates me.)

I don't have a lot of legal issues but I like knowing that I can walk next door and get my attorney's advice.

The husband is my sounding board and my touchstone. I need his opinion, even if I don't agree.

The husband is on a trip this week. I have no problem with that. But, he's going with my doctor and my attorney. Some business; some golf.

You know how the president and the vice president are not allowed to travel together? Heirs to the throne are not allowed to be on the same plane (although Princess Diana broke this rule.)

I don't think the husband, my attorney and my physician should leave me like this. The oldies will roll in and I'll be left without my support network.

But, I have faith. If disaster strikes, the girlfriends will save me.

The good news is I have ALL of their cell phone numbers.

Jury Duty

There's so much going on in the world that I don't understand. I stay in my little coccon. Then, I get summoned for jury duty.

I am one of those odd people that ejoys it. It is my civic duty. People complain about waiting around. I think, "Yes! No cell phones allowed and I can read my book." I am called every year.

Sometimes I am dismissed immediately. The daughter is an attorney and she used to work for the prosecutor's office. The defense gives me the evil eye and says, "bye bye!" One of the questions they always ask is if you know any attorneys or judges. Due to Big Daddy's connections, I know quite a few.

Yet, occasionally, I make it to the jury. This is so fascinating to me. I love the process and I truly (maybe stupidly) feel like I am serving the common good. Plus, it's just good information. Once, I was jury foreman. You know how I like to be in charge.

Do you know what crack cocaine looks like? I do. They passed it around the jury box as evidence. Do you know the going rate for sexual acts on the street? I do. The accused spelled it out for us during the trial.

Then, I slither back into my safe little world ... no crack cocaine, no meth labs, no money paid for sexual favors. After jury duty, a house filled with clutter and oldies who are cranky seems like heaven on earth.