Temporary Insanity

As I continue to pursue full-time employment in my field (along with nine million other people,) I have been working for a temporary agency to help make ends meet.

Ok, that's a joke. The ends are not meeting. They don't even reside in the same hemisphere. But, I figure every little bit helps.

I have taken on a few assignments -- each a little more humiliating than the last. I'm currently working for a non-profit agency, soliciting business people to participate in a fund-raising event. The job is fine. I am of the mindset that if you give me a job, I will do it to the best of my ability. Apparently this is not the norm. This particular office acts as if none of us can read, write, etc. We have little games and contests to win ridiculous prizes that I immediately throw away.

I'm excited to give you a glimpse of this world but I must run off to the "office" to work and see what activities are in store for today.

"I have enough money to last me the rest of my life unless I buy something."
Jackie Mason

Christmas Musings

'Tis the season and all that. I've spent the season being even more reflective than usual. From the frivolous to the serious, here are a few of the things I've pondered:

The Tree
There is a fir/evergreen tree outside the bedroom window in my previous home. I could sit up in bed and view it. This would've been my 12th Christmas in that home and for a dozen years I have said to myself, "I should put lights on that tree so I could wake up to that vision." I never did it and now I wish I had.

Eyes are Everywhere
I was taught to look at the front and rear view of myself before I left the house. I'm sure this was intended to save me from some disaster like walking into a meeting with the back of my skirt tucked into my pantyhose. Everyone does not learn this lesson (or chooses not to heed it.) I listened to a solo last night by a young woman who truly has the voice of an angel but was dressed as if she were running late for a street-walking gig. Yes, I am showing my age but I am constantly amazed at young girls who flaunt their assets, including posting them for all the world to see, as their parents remain silent.

Eyes are also everywhere in terms of choices you make. You may be an adult and it may be your right to make your own decisions but I'm learning (better late than never) to stop and ask myself, "What do they see that I don't see and how does that reflect on my character?"

Never Underestimate Rice Krispie Treats
My mother and my sister spend countless hours making homemade candies for the holidays. They are always popular and I've eaten my fair share. But, sometimes you can also be a big hit, especially with children, with sticky, crunchy Rice Krispie treats. I made a batch, shaped it into a wreath and took it to a party. The kids ate it with gusto and it left more of the grown-up goodies for the adults.

Nobody Wants another Knickknack
Unless you are a serious collector of something, chances are you do not need or desire more stuff. (If you are a serious collector, chances are that most people cannot afford to add to your collection.) Unless someone requests something very specific, I try to buy only consumed or used and thrown away. I didn't buy gifts this year but I plan to keep this rule for future occasions. Most of us already have an embarrassing amount of unnecessary riches.

Necessary Riches
It's trite and sappy but the riches that fill my life (and hopefully yours) did not arrive via sleigh last night. They weren't slipped under the tree while we slept. They weren't purchased in any store. They were sleeping beside us or right down the hall. They were those we included in our Christmas Eve prayers. They were in the tears we shed for those we miss and in our hearts and we reflected on sweet memories.

Beware of Lifetime Movies
Substitute your favorite cable channel. You can lose an entire day if they run a marathon. Last Sunday, I started watching one Christmas movie on Lifetime and ended up watching four back to back. I have seen others do this with the True Crime channels especially if they're rerunning Cops.

Christmas Miracles
I believe they happen all year long.

Merry Christmas to all.

Holiday Parties

For someone with a life in shambles, I've still managed to attend quite a few Christmas functions including lunches with friends and card parties. You can take the party out of your life but you can't take the party out of this girl. I still have several get-togethers to go. My low-key Christmas has been a wonderful balance of relaxation and festivities.

Last night we went to my sister's house. I find most holiday decorations magical but it's even more so in homes with young children. (She and her husband have three.) I love asking the children which ornaments are their favorites and seeing the pride in their little faces.

My oldies hosted Christmas Eve for many years. When my sister and her real siblings were children, spending Christmas Eve at my parents gave Santa a chance to finish some last minute details away from prying eyes. All three children remember these gatherings and speak of them often.

As usual, life comes full circle. Although it wasn't Christmas Eve and we were missing a few people, the night was quite similar to those from years past. The menu had many of the favorites we've shared over time. Some decorations were familiar. The laughter was spontaneous and frequent. And three little children danced around in the true spirit of the season.

Breakfast With Santa

Yesterday, I went with my friend Lynn to her nephews' school for Breakfast with Santa. We were volunteer elves to take the photos, although most parents and grandparents brought their own cameras.

We gave ourselves elf nicknames. Lynn's was Booger and mine was Depression. It was 7:30 in the morning -- we found everything funny.

The party was quite the todo! Breakfast included sausage and pancakes. Besides visiting with Santa, there were booths with many other things for the children to do. There was also a live reindeer that the children could pet. Lynn knocked a few children out of the way to take this picture of me and the reindeer. I decided to forego sitting on Santa's lap. Even he couldn't handle my wish list this year.

Steps

When someone asks if I have children, I say yes. Although I am a stepmother (a term I loathe and avoid,) I choose to focus on the second half of the word. Mothering comes in many forms. It may be a secondary relationship in the eyes of some people but that’s a waste of a lot of love.

Odds are that you will deal with it. Even if you are one of the lucky people who marry for life and raise your biological children, you are not immune. One of those children may date or marry someone with a child. Or, your sibling will show up at the next gathering with a ready-made family.

I was introduced to this concept early. Neither of my parents was raised by their birth mother. One was blessed with a woman who considered it an honor. The other spent his childhood feeling secondary.

If you’re a step-anything, don’t show favoritism to the real children versus the stepchildren. Make a choice to step it up.

A Doggie Day

Today is the maniac's birthday party. I lucked into a beautiful day so all the doggies can romp outside.

I've had several people question my sanity for doing this. Others get it right away. It's not really about the dogs.

It's about a girlfriend experiencing financial difficulties who could use a break and a few laughs.
It's about a girlfriend who just took her youngest child to college and needs some support.
It's about girlfriends who are taking care of aging parents and running ragged with work.
It's about me and the opportunity to gather on a sunny afternoon with some friends I don't see as often as I'd like.
It's a couple of hours where we get to escape and enjoy a few laughs.

It may be Gabby's birthday but it's really a tribute to friends -- hers and mine.

Born to be Wild

One of my goldies recently left a comment: "You are still my wild and crazy Sheri." Yes, I am.

With grown and still growing children among us, it's interesting to see the dynamics. It's fun to rediscover the children we were. Some genetics; some environmental. They are who they are meant to be.

I am quite conservative. But, I have a wild streak. It's more fun that way.

Friends versus Acquaintances

From the Oxford American Dictionary:

Friend: A person with whom one is on terms of mutual affection and respect.
Acquaintance: A person one knows slightly.

I'll add two more:

Relative: A person who is related by parentage or descent or marriage.
Stranger: A person one does not know.

Wouldn't it be nice if relationships were this easy to define? I have relatives who are friends and relatives who are strangers. I have acquaintances that I trust more than some relatives. I have friends that are sometimes strangers. I have friends who know it all. I consider some of my friends in the relative category.

The husband and I spent the weekend with friends. We all know way too much about each other but there's a level of trust there. We also know (or know about) each other's children and parents.

The words "trust" and "love" didn't show up in any of the definitions. Guess we get to define that for ourselves.

People With Influence -- Part Two

So many people impact me, even when they have no idea.

That first person, that boy or girl who you dreamt about and pined for ...

Your first love. We all define it differently but I know who mine was and he was definitely an influence.

The aunts and uncles who took you on dates, bought cute clothes for you and put up with you when your parents needed a break. Their influence in my life cannot be calculated. I still call or email and ask, "Will you help me?"

The cousins who forget that you're not a sibling. They drop what they're doing and say, "What can I do?" I have a cousin who occasionally sends emails to his family. It's his wife, mother and siblings. Somehow, I made the list and I get a little giddy whenever I see my name on the family list. Another cousin with an extremely busy life manages to make me feel important and relevant. She confides in me. And, she lets her daughter visit -- knowing I'm probably a bad influence.

The animals (okay -- technically, not people) who run to you, slather you with kisses, do the "I'm so happy you're here" dance.

Neighbors. We've all gotten so wrapped up in ourselves that we can forget to be good neighbors. I like it when a neighbor calls to say, "There's someone in your yard, is he supposed to be there?" I grew up in an environment where neighbors looked out for each other.

The children. Busy with their own lives and their own struggles. Yet, they manage to find time to email, phone or text. Somewhere in there is a message of love.

Grandparents. If you're lucky enough to still have them: hug them. call them. Soak up their love and their knowledge. (Ask them for money.)

In-laws. I miss the Captain and the Belle. They influenced me in a great and profound way.

Oldies. Take a lesson from me. Help that old woman with her groceries. Ask that man if he needs help across the street. Listen to their stories. You're not doing them a favor -- you're getting an education.

The husband. Maybe you have one of those marriages where you never disagree, you never get on each other's nerves and you never break a promise. I don't. I have a marriage that keeps me on my toes. (I tried it the other way -- I got bored.) I like learning from my spouse. If nothing else, he keeps me interested.

People Don't Know Their Influence -- Part One

There's an old saying about children ... "they don't do what you say, they do what you do." Sad, but probably true.

I think it's possible for many people to go through life without realizing they are being watched. I've had great bosses, great ministers, great friends. I'm watching. I'm learning.

Nick Seats allowed me to follow him around in his agency while I was in high school and college. (Like a Labrador Retriever with her tongue hanging out.) He inspired me.

The mean, mean teacher I had in my freshman year of college told me I would never cut it. She thought I wasn't tough enough. Wanna Bet?

Several years ago, a daughter of my friend had to write a paper about someone she admires. When she chose me, I was honored. Another friend brought me back to earth by saying, "She probably likes the way you smoke."

The Pasadena gang of my childhood still influences me. (Both the children and the parents.)

The obvious one is my parents. Love abounded in our household, along with a strong dose of morals and responsibility. But my favorite influence is that they both know how to laugh with abandon.

My goldies (bestest friends in the whole wide world) taught me what friendships can be. They can span decades. They can survive hard times. They can transport you in time and allow the inner child to emerge. They can hold you hostage with photos or notes they have kept.

Syd Cook taught me what a boss is supposed to be. He spoiled me for anyone else. He exemplifies traits I aspire to have. He also taught me that when your plane is sliding on an icy runway, headed for Lake Michigan, it's ok to grab hands and say, "This is not how I planned to f+++ing die." (We obviously survived.)

My girlfriend group has no idea how much I study them. I learn everything from style to parenting (or grandparenting) tips. I am the perpetual student at their feet.

There are many more. That will be Part Two. Stay tuned.

Don't You Hate It When ...

I try very hard to never use the word "hate" toward people. I have no problem using it according to a situation or a dilemma.

I hate it when ...

An advertised product is out of stock.

Every traffic light turns red as I approach.

Someone I love is hurting.

I put my foot in my mouth.

I can't remember a person's name.

My checkbook doesn't jive with the bank.

I spend time on my hair only to get caught in a downpour.

My favorite glasses go AWOL.

I overhear someone make a disparaging comment about a person I care about.

The phone or the doorbell knocks out my train of thought.

I hurt someone's feelings or let them down.

The dog eats my favorite slippers.

The power goes out and I have to reset every clock.

My To Do List overwhelms me.

I can't track down my parents. They are supposed to be available to me 24/7.

Clothes I love don't fit.

A date night is interrupted by a screaming child. (I think if they are allowed to bring a bratty child, I should be allowed to bring my dog and her squeaky ball.

Clutter becomes acceptable.

People don't understand how beautiful and powerful they are.

People don't stand for the Star Spangled Banner, And for Heaven's sakes, take off your hat.

People wear sandals without bothering to groom their feet. Ick!

Grown men wear Speedos.

Men date and marry women younger than their daughters.

Looks are more valued than brains.

This could go on forever so I'll stop now. What do you hate?

My Love for George Foreman

I'm obsessed with George Foreman -- the grill, not the man. Although I'm mighty impressed with him for bringing it to me. In my little pea brain, I don't understand how people live without it. (Sort of how I feel about my iPod.)

Now that we have lost the oldies and the children have grown, I'm mainly concerned with cooking for two people. I'm quite capable with the grill but why would I want to deal with the cover, light it, stand over it in a sweat and run back and forth to the kitchen?

Especially in the summer, our idea of dinner is some piece of grilled meat, veges and a salad. Two of these three are accomplished quickly, thanks to my George Foreman.

I use it for other things. We make little egg sandwiches when the baby's here. Sometimes I make a grilled sandwich for lunch.

But my favorite part is this. If you make the salad ahead of time, you can have dinner on the table in 4 to 7 minutes.

I See Me

Most parents look at their children and see a part of themselves. I look a lot like my mother but I've decided lately that my predominate physical traits come from my father's side of the family. (Other than the legs.)

It's not just DNA.

I watch the daughter push herself in a challenging situation. I see me. I watch the baby make mistakes and have to figure it out. I see me. Plus, he's the most helpful person you will ever meet.

My goddaughters are these amazing young people. Both are beautiful and I don't envy them for that. They will be judged first on their looks which is unfair. People who bother to look below the surface will find some really smart women. When their good and bad traits come out in full force, I see me.

My maniac dog hates the word "No." She will get in your face and bark herself silly. I see me.

Marital Strife

The Belle told me that the sex organs are the last ones to go. I tried to wipe that image out of my head.

On the "Today Show" the other morning, they featured two couples. Both had written books and both had to do with their sex lives. One couple chronicled their experiment to recommit to their sex life over 101 days. The other couple vowed to have sex every day for 30 days. Maybe you have to understand my sense of humor but I found this intriguing and hysterically funny.

Marital issues usually come down to:

Money
Children
Exes, if you have them
Parents
Household chores
Sex

We don't fight about household chores. I do as many as I can stand. My dad pitches in with projects. Houseboy does the bulk of it. I've never mowed a lawn in my life and I plan to keep it that way. I'm pretty good at weed pulling.

We don't fight about sex either. We prefer to annihilate each other over more mundane things.

Then, it's the middle of the night and your legs are intertwined. Or, you decide to clean your wedding ring and you read the inscription inside for the millionth time. Or, you dance on the patio and fight about who gets to lead.

Or, you go to a wedding and hold hands and then say quietly to each other, (like you're speaking to the bride and groom,) "Don't do it!" This cracks us up.

Forget that list above. I'm convinced a sense of humor will see you through.

Divorce Parties

Have you heard of these? I have not attended one but I was aware that they exist. There seem to be two types:

Women who have some cocktails, put his photos on a pinata and take turns bashing his face in; or

A couple who chooses to throw a party to celebrate their years together right before they go their separate ways.

I'm sounding like an oldie but both versions of this party give me the creeps. I hear the Belle in my head, "That is not proper behavior." I'm trying to imagine the invitation. Is it:

Bring your favorite baseball bat, or
Bring your favorite memory?

As much as I hate the idea, there is a little logic to it. You invite your friends and family to watch you join as a union. They celebrate your accomplishments and your family over the years. When you end it, it extends far beyond the two innocents who said, "I do." It changes lives. It makes friends question their own relationships. It is not fair to children. Parents on both sides wonder where they went wrong. Traditions get changed and rearranged.

I picked up a small book called, The Divorce Party by Laura Dave. I believe it is her first novel. The concept is simple: one woman at the beginning of her marriage and one woman at the end of hers. Their intertwining struggles made me laugh and cry. It's a quick read: a few hours on the beach or an evening alone. I hope you'll read it.

I have no plans to get divorced. If, Heaven Forbid, that were to happen. I will not have a party.

Gas Prices

The whole country is up in arms over fuel prices. Rightly so. It impacts every area of our lives.

I am lucky that I have a fuel-efficient car and since I work from home, my gas consumption is far below the norm.

Wouldn't it be nice if people took this challenge and made some changes? Instead of bopping to the mall or running around town, what if they ate in and played board games? Instead of plotting and planning a family vacation, what if they camped out in the family room or the back yard?

What if? Maybe instead of the resort, the kids could catch fireflies or teach the dog a new trick. How about hide and seek or tag? Do kids play this anymore? Instead of driving to endless destinations, maybe a book might be a fun diversion.

In every struggle, there's supposed to be a silver lining. Maybe the silver lining is learning that happiness is not in driving or flying somewhere. Maybe it's right there in your home. Maybe it's a dog that learns to shake your hand. Maybe it's a spirited board game. Maybe it's a DVD that crosses generations. Maybe it's going through photo albums and saying, "Look at you!"

This is easy for me to say because the children of this house are grown. However, we did have them both in the same room last Sunday. We did not use a bunch of gas. We threw a tenderloin on the grill and played board games. I highly recommend it.

Bratty Kids

The phrase "Zero Tolerance" is thrown around a lot. Schools use it in their policies about guns, drugs, etc. Sports organizations use it regarding drug testing or other forms of cheating.

I use it too. I have zero tolerance for bratty children. I do not blame the children, although they annoy me, but I want to slap the parents.

Before you think I'm jumped over the cliff into serious oldieville, I am not talking about babies with colic or a child in pain. I'm talking about the child on the airplane that is allowed to climb all over the seat, kick total strangers and throw the sippy cup (filled with sticky juice) in my hair. I'm talking about the child that interrupts adult conversation with some inane request -- only to divert the attention. I'm talking about parents who tolerate it.

In my childhood, my mother was usually the disciplinarian. But my father absolutely, positively refused to put up with whining. He is the most low key and calm man you would ever meet but this would send him reeling. Like all good parents, he didn't have to say a word. One look and I stopped. If a child can master a simple sentence, he can learn manners.

Maybe my next career will be teaching a course. I'll call it, "Mastering the Look."

Last night we had dinner and then played games. I don't remember what the baby said but he's old enough to know how to rib me. I shot him the look. The husband said, "And Mean Mom enters the party." (In his defense, it wasn't anything bad, I just like to know that I still have a sliver of power.) Now that he's grown, he just shoots the same look back to me which makes me laugh. He's mastered it.

When the baby was little, we did not hesitate to take him to restaurants. He loved to go out to brunch or dinner. Our little ritual was to sit in the car and remind him of the rules of proper behavior. No raised voices; no threats -- just a little refresher course.

Maybe I have plopped into oldieville. My mother asked me why we always prefer to eat in the bar of certain restaurants. It's not for the alcohol. It's because you have to be 21-years old. I refuse to spend my weekly allotment for dining out dodging sippy cups and listening to a screaming child.

Different Rules for Different People

This is a slight twist on the haves and have nots. It's more like people who have sense and those who do not.

Someone forgot to give me the rule sheet. Come to think of it, I don't want it.

I've watched people annihilate their spouse with words and a tone of voice they would never use while speaking to their children or their parents. I've done it myself.

I've watched people discipline a pet with words and actions they would never use on a person.

I've seen friends gang up on another friend (from kindergarten to middle-age) and forget that they might be the next target.

I've heard about people who (in a fit of rage) say some pretty hateful things to their children like, "I wish you'd never been born." I don't want to know these people.

We all get to make choices. And yes, I am completely guilty of letting my mouth shoot out of the gate before the logical side of my brain catches up. I get to choose the rules for me and you get to choose yours.

My parents are allowed to say anything to me. They are allowed to be brutally honest. It's a relationship that's built on trust so I don't want the kid-glove treatment. (I've never had it so I would freak out.)

A small circle of friends is allowed to ask or tell me anything. The rule is when we say, "To the grave," we honor it.

The daughter is strong and opinionated. She can tell me what's on her mind and how I could've handled it better. My only caveat is to remind her that she hasn't walked in my shoes.

The husband should be able to discuss everything with me but we have a long habit of getting prickly. Walking out of the room is our universal signal for "this conversation is over."

Society's rules keep changing on me. What used to be taboo is now the norm. I'm not great with change so I'll stick with the morals I'm trying to live up to and the rules I've chosen for myself.

Paying Attention

Even when I seem to be ignoring advice coming my way, I am paying attention.

The experts say that children learn by example. They're paying attention to your actions far more than your words. We don't have young children anymore but I could definitely list our mistakes. Still, they managed to become good human beings. Like me, they've spent their entire lives surrounded in love. It's frightening to recognize how many children don't have that in their lives.

That tight wire act where you try to help someone without offending them is tricky business. When they're children, you have a captive audience. They cannot escape. As adults, whether it's parent to child, friend to friend or something else, the safety net is not quite as reliable. I know people who do not speak to their siblings. I know people who see or talk to their parents a couple of times each year. This is as foreign to me as living on Mars.

I'm no expert but I have a lot of experience with unsolicited advice. I let it run through my head as I try to fall asleep. My eyes may have glazed over and I may pretend to be ignoring you but trust me, I heard you and I was paying attention.

Some people get annoyed. I get encouraged. I may not heed it immediately but I heard you.

A Different Obit

I wish I knew who wrote this. It spoke to me and I hope it speaks to you. The oldies lived their lives with this philosophy, as do my parents. I try too.

“COMMON SENSE HAS DIED”

My parents told me about Mr. Common Sense early in my
life and told me I would do well to call on him when making decisions.
It seems he was always around in my early years but less and less as
time passed until today I read his obituary.


Obituary - Common Sense
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who
has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was
since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.
He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as
knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the
worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault. Common Sense
lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you
earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children are in
charge).


His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but
overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy
charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended
from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for
reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.


Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the
job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.
It declined even further when schools were required to get parental
consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a
student; but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant
and wanted to have an abortion.


Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became
contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better
treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you
couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar
can sue you for assault.


Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to
realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in
her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was
preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion;
his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.


He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is
to Blame, and I'm a Victim.


Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If
you still remember him pass this on. If not, join the majority and do
nothing.


Author unknown