I'm not used to posting blogs that aren't sarcastic or a bit light-hearted. So this will be new to you all. And to me. And I'll keep my ramblings to a minimum.
A friend of mine who is expecting twins, just found out that the little boy has an unoperable heart defect. The doctor's at Primary Children's Hospital are not giving many reasons to hope, and it will take a heart transplant very soon after his birth to save his life.
They are asking the Lord, through faith, for a miracle to save their baby son. This Sunday is Fast Sunday. They understand that they do not know what the Lord's plan is for their baby, and will accept whatever that plan is, but know that all things are possible through our combined faith and prayers.
Their names are Matt and Denise, and I'm sure they would appreciate all prayers anyone can pass their way.
Thanks.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Chick Flick Reflections
My new blogger friend Danyelle--see Queen of the Clan blog link--has a contest running at the moment to discover the best 'chick flick'. She asked for suggestions, put them in poll form, and will have her husband watch the top three poll choices to determine the #1 Chick Flick.
(Which sounds really fun--me being a "chick" and loving "flicks"--but I'm not sure her husband is a good choice for picking the top chick flick movie. No offense. He is, by definition, a HUSBAND. Definitely not a chick. So in reality, he might actually choose the movie that is LESS chick-flick like. More watchable for a guy. Not that there is anything wrong with that...:) )
So, in order to expand a little wisdom to the guys for them to fully appreciate the 'chick flick', and what it is exactly that draw women to wanting to watch those movies again and again, I am going to point out some pivotal scenes in some of my favorite movies and try to explain why I like them. I'm not going to be so general as to assume ALL 'chicks' like these scenes the same way and for the same reasons that I do, but it is probably safe to say that most will agree with part of my judgement.
Let me start with 'The Lake House'. Mainly because this is the movie that my husband just doesn't 'get'. This is the movie that, when leaving the theater I overheard more than a dozen different men muttering to themselves something along the lines of "What was that? Did you get any of that movie? What a piece of..." Men with dazed expressions of confusion and the rolling of eyes at each other as their women (most of them anyway) smiled and told each other that they liked the movie. The men didn't understand the draw. The women ignored Keanu Reeve's acting ability and just soaked up the romance.
In the Lake House, there is one scene that clinches it all for me. The one scene that I will happily ignore the moans of my husband as I choose to watch my DVD again. It is the scene where Keanu goes to the party he knows Sandra will be attending. He sits with her on the back porch, knowing exactly who she is and she has no idea how their lives will become intertwined in the next two years. The scene when they end up dancing alone in the moonlight--fighting attraction, but giving in to a marvelous first kiss. [sigh] So romantic. It is what makes dancing so appealing. Being close. Feeling attracted--and attractive. I sometimes think all of us wish we had a little bit of Sandra Bullock in us. Or maybe we wish flashes of Keanu would be seen in our husbands. Not the bad acting parts--:) --but the going out and making the girl feel wanted. Like there is no one else in the world--no other place he'd rather be, than to be with his girl.
My 2nd movie to discuss would be 'Just Like Heaven'. My husband mockingly tells me that the criteria for a chick flick that I enjoy is only that it has some weird medical phenomenon. The Lake House has the goofy 2 year seperation thing, Just Like Heaven has the girl in a coma, While You Were Sleeping has another coma...there is a pattern, I will admit that much.
Just Like Heaven appeals because I think it shows more of the guy doing whatever he can for the girl. I mean, seriously...he steals her body for pete's sake. (No asking who Pete is....you punny people). He is willing to seem extreme, insane, and he is willing to sacrifice everything to save her.
With While You Were Sleeping, the guy is willing to step aside and let the girl marry his brother if that will bring her happiness. Even at the expense of his own.
Romantic comedy chick flicks are really easy to break down. A regular romantic comedy becomes a chick flick when you have the hero love the girl for who she is, love her in spite of obstacles and differences, love her enough to be willing to let her go. But in the end, true love prevails.
To make it a romantic comedy for guys to enjoy, all they do is add shooting and car chases. Men are much more simple than women. Give a guy a bag of popcorn and a movie like Sahara, and both of you are happy.
Of course, if you give a guy a bag of popcorn, a box of Milk Duds, and a large soda...okay, and a double bacon cheeseburger and large order of fries....he'll probably even sit through 'Pride and Prejudice' with you. :)
(Which sounds really fun--me being a "chick" and loving "flicks"--but I'm not sure her husband is a good choice for picking the top chick flick movie. No offense. He is, by definition, a HUSBAND. Definitely not a chick. So in reality, he might actually choose the movie that is LESS chick-flick like. More watchable for a guy. Not that there is anything wrong with that...:) )
So, in order to expand a little wisdom to the guys for them to fully appreciate the 'chick flick', and what it is exactly that draw women to wanting to watch those movies again and again, I am going to point out some pivotal scenes in some of my favorite movies and try to explain why I like them. I'm not going to be so general as to assume ALL 'chicks' like these scenes the same way and for the same reasons that I do, but it is probably safe to say that most will agree with part of my judgement.
Let me start with 'The Lake House'. Mainly because this is the movie that my husband just doesn't 'get'. This is the movie that, when leaving the theater I overheard more than a dozen different men muttering to themselves something along the lines of "What was that? Did you get any of that movie? What a piece of..." Men with dazed expressions of confusion and the rolling of eyes at each other as their women (most of them anyway) smiled and told each other that they liked the movie. The men didn't understand the draw. The women ignored Keanu Reeve's acting ability and just soaked up the romance.
In the Lake House, there is one scene that clinches it all for me. The one scene that I will happily ignore the moans of my husband as I choose to watch my DVD again. It is the scene where Keanu goes to the party he knows Sandra will be attending. He sits with her on the back porch, knowing exactly who she is and she has no idea how their lives will become intertwined in the next two years. The scene when they end up dancing alone in the moonlight--fighting attraction, but giving in to a marvelous first kiss. [sigh] So romantic. It is what makes dancing so appealing. Being close. Feeling attracted--and attractive. I sometimes think all of us wish we had a little bit of Sandra Bullock in us. Or maybe we wish flashes of Keanu would be seen in our husbands. Not the bad acting parts--:) --but the going out and making the girl feel wanted. Like there is no one else in the world--no other place he'd rather be, than to be with his girl.
My 2nd movie to discuss would be 'Just Like Heaven'. My husband mockingly tells me that the criteria for a chick flick that I enjoy is only that it has some weird medical phenomenon. The Lake House has the goofy 2 year seperation thing, Just Like Heaven has the girl in a coma, While You Were Sleeping has another coma...there is a pattern, I will admit that much.
Just Like Heaven appeals because I think it shows more of the guy doing whatever he can for the girl. I mean, seriously...he steals her body for pete's sake. (No asking who Pete is....you punny people). He is willing to seem extreme, insane, and he is willing to sacrifice everything to save her.
With While You Were Sleeping, the guy is willing to step aside and let the girl marry his brother if that will bring her happiness. Even at the expense of his own.
Romantic comedy chick flicks are really easy to break down. A regular romantic comedy becomes a chick flick when you have the hero love the girl for who she is, love her in spite of obstacles and differences, love her enough to be willing to let her go. But in the end, true love prevails.
To make it a romantic comedy for guys to enjoy, all they do is add shooting and car chases. Men are much more simple than women. Give a guy a bag of popcorn and a movie like Sahara, and both of you are happy.
Of course, if you give a guy a bag of popcorn, a box of Milk Duds, and a large soda...okay, and a double bacon cheeseburger and large order of fries....he'll probably even sit through 'Pride and Prejudice' with you. :)
Thursday, April 3, 2008
April Ramblings
Okay. I wrote the previous post on April 1st, posted it...didn't love it so I took it off and put it in my drafts to contemplate it and the reasons behind not loving it. I then decided to just post the thing, so it is all there in its original form. And I still don't love it.
NOW I don't love it because the title is 'April Fools Day'--I originally wrote it then--but since I posted it a different day it doesn't quite make sense anymore.
Originally, I decided I don't love it because I had wanted to write at more length about the interruptions my kids love to make at inopportune times. I had a lovely ramble in my head about that one.
You know the saying about giving talks that says something like, 'You write three talks before you give it, the one in your head, the one you write down, and the one you actually give'? Well, the ramble in my head about my kids was awesome. Funny, memorable. It had Norman Rockwell type tendencies. Pure genius.
You will notice I didn't get to the 'write it down' part. It might have had a few chuckles, but probably not as memorable as my ego wanted.
So I condensed the thoughts and shoved them in my April Fool's post.
I realize that I probably just can't get the hilarity of the post in my head out of...well, my head. So that is why I am not a fan of that post.
Enough said.
Today, to make it really special I thought I would ramble like the pro I could be--if someone would pay me for my ramblings. [Just a side: If someone pays you to NOT ramble..to not post due to eye strain and an aversion to sarcasm...would that make me a professional thinker? That wouldn't look too shabby on a business card....hmm....]
I've become a people watcher lately. When I served my mission in Portugal I used to walk down the cobblestone streets and see old Portuguese women in their houses, staring out their front windows and watching people as they passed by. I found it quaint to see them as life passed by their windows. Their faces were lined from years of hard work and they rarely smiled, unless a fellow widow would make her way past their house and they would lift gnarled hands in greeting and smile a mostly-toothless smile at one another while praising God, cursing dead husbands, and making their way to the market.
Fascinating exchange, that.
I used to find myself watching out my window too. It is different here in the States. In my neighborhood. My husband caught me staring out the window a few times and could never understand the draw.
So now I mostly watch people while I'm in my car. I will be at a stop light and I find myself looking at an older woman in the car next to me and begin to wonder what she looked like when she was young. I look at the man in the car behind me through my rearview mirror and wonder what he looked like when he had hair.
I wonder who the man in the suit is talking with on his phone--imagining he is making some big business deal when he almost blows through a red-light because of the cell phone distraction (when in reality, it is probably just him chatting with his wife and trying really hard to talk her out of having to going to her parents for dinner that night).
I laugh at the extremely well dressed 'beautiful people'--you know the ones: great hair, blindingly white teeth, hugely expensive car--who pick their nose when they think no one is looking.
And I feel a certain kinship to those I catch alone in their cars happily singing along to the radio.
I am a people watcher. We are interesting creatures.
And when I am old and have no teeth and white hair, I hope that instead of buying a black lace shawl and pulling up a window seat, I'll still be enjoying life instead of just watching it pass me by.
NOW I don't love it because the title is 'April Fools Day'--I originally wrote it then--but since I posted it a different day it doesn't quite make sense anymore.
Originally, I decided I don't love it because I had wanted to write at more length about the interruptions my kids love to make at inopportune times. I had a lovely ramble in my head about that one.
You know the saying about giving talks that says something like, 'You write three talks before you give it, the one in your head, the one you write down, and the one you actually give'? Well, the ramble in my head about my kids was awesome. Funny, memorable. It had Norman Rockwell type tendencies. Pure genius.
You will notice I didn't get to the 'write it down' part. It might have had a few chuckles, but probably not as memorable as my ego wanted.
So I condensed the thoughts and shoved them in my April Fool's post.
I realize that I probably just can't get the hilarity of the post in my head out of...well, my head. So that is why I am not a fan of that post.
Enough said.
Today, to make it really special I thought I would ramble like the pro I could be--if someone would pay me for my ramblings. [Just a side: If someone pays you to NOT ramble..to not post due to eye strain and an aversion to sarcasm...would that make me a professional thinker? That wouldn't look too shabby on a business card....hmm....]
I've become a people watcher lately. When I served my mission in Portugal I used to walk down the cobblestone streets and see old Portuguese women in their houses, staring out their front windows and watching people as they passed by. I found it quaint to see them as life passed by their windows. Their faces were lined from years of hard work and they rarely smiled, unless a fellow widow would make her way past their house and they would lift gnarled hands in greeting and smile a mostly-toothless smile at one another while praising God, cursing dead husbands, and making their way to the market.
Fascinating exchange, that.
I used to find myself watching out my window too. It is different here in the States. In my neighborhood. My husband caught me staring out the window a few times and could never understand the draw.
So now I mostly watch people while I'm in my car. I will be at a stop light and I find myself looking at an older woman in the car next to me and begin to wonder what she looked like when she was young. I look at the man in the car behind me through my rearview mirror and wonder what he looked like when he had hair.
I wonder who the man in the suit is talking with on his phone--imagining he is making some big business deal when he almost blows through a red-light because of the cell phone distraction (when in reality, it is probably just him chatting with his wife and trying really hard to talk her out of having to going to her parents for dinner that night).
I laugh at the extremely well dressed 'beautiful people'--you know the ones: great hair, blindingly white teeth, hugely expensive car--who pick their nose when they think no one is looking.
And I feel a certain kinship to those I catch alone in their cars happily singing along to the radio.
I am a people watcher. We are interesting creatures.
And when I am old and have no teeth and white hair, I hope that instead of buying a black lace shawl and pulling up a window seat, I'll still be enjoying life instead of just watching it pass me by.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
April Fool's Day
Today would have been the 17th wedding anniversary of my sister if they hadn't gotten divorced. Not a big deal except that I have been contemplating the date for some time and wondered how many people actually get married on this day, and if they do, how many marriages last. I mean, if it is a fool's day, are you getting married on this date to be silly or to fool everyone who thought you'd never end up together? Or maybe it was the only available day for the caterer for the month of April because no one wanted that date. Or maybe you picked that date on a dare.I would think that regardless of the reasons, being married on this date would be to bring some laughs and chuckles every anniversary. Right?Granted, my sister's marriage didn't last--but her 2nd marriage is still going strong, and I have no idea what her anniversary date is for that one. It just didn't stick in my head. When one elopes to Reno, you would think it would trump an April 1st wedding. It does in some ways--she is married with 5 kids now--and in others it doesn't, unless you count having a nice normal wedding anniversary date instead of one that sticks out.All that said, when above mentioned sister's marriage ended, I started wondering about my own marriage.April Fool's Day is a silly, lighthearted day to get married.My husband and I got married on Friday the 13th.Seriously.So when a happy day in April doesn't help out the longevity of a marriage, I worried about the fates when we thumbed our noses at any jinx that might occur when my husband and I picked a Friday the 13th. This will be our 17th wedding anniversary later this year. And we have 7 kids. 2 dogs. 1 cat. And 1 mouse (if you read my other post we had 3 mice as of last week, but they are quickly meeting their demise--not because of the cat however...)Some days with that craziness I'm thinking the jinxes are working well--for example:Maybe if I had married on the 12th instead I would get to take an entire shower without two 4 year-olds and a 3 year-old unlocking my door and coming in to complain about something, or show me something, or be generally annoying when all I really want is five minutes to get clean. Alone.Or maybe if I had married on the 14th I would not have all the kids be quiet and calm until the second I am talking on the phone when all heck breaks loose and someone is sure they are going to die unless I get them a corn dog.Maybe if I married on any other day than Friday the 13th I would not have such a crazy life...okay, I'm sure that if I had married on any other day my life would probably be the exact same, but what if it wasn't?If I think about it that way, I suppose I am glad I married on the date I did. I can't imagine life without chaos. If that is what marrying on Friday the 13th brought me, I welcome it.Most of the time. :)
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
My User Name
If you look at my profile, you'll see that my "name" is gsd4de.
My husband has never liked that moniker. He thinks I'm trying to be clever. But if pressed, he can't come up with anything better so he keeps quiet. He isn't a fan of custom license plates either unless they are really brilliant, so I take his ribbing with a bucket of salt...
gsd4de stands for 'German Shepherd Dogs "for" De'. For 16 years my husband and I have had German Shepherds. That is, until our last gsd Gracie died this past summer. I had always planned on starting a kennel and raising beautiful, intelligent, friendly, healthy german shepherds. So maybe that screen name makes a little more sense to everyone.
And maybe you are all agreeing with my husband that it isn't clever enough. :)
Now that we no longer have german shepherds (which still feels really strange after so many years with them), my name makes even less sense now than it did before. But what do you do? I have had that name for so long now that everything is tied to it. I have TWO e-mail addresses with that listed. I am registered on a bunch of websites with that as my user name. To change it now seems like it would be similar to suddenly changing your home phone number or cell phone number and having to contact a million people to let them know.
Luckily for me I'm not feeling clever enough to come up with a snappy new name. We have two stinky toy poodles (so we aren't a completely dog-less family--although that is debateable if you don't really consider a poodle a dog...), but I don't want to be connected in anyway to poodles. They are my daughter's dogs. I don't claim them.
We also have a cat. She is stinky too, and I'm allergic to her so obviously that isn't even my first choice on the 2nd page.
I pretend we don't own three mice that are leftovers from my daughter's science fair project. So I won't go there.
Some people use things about themselves like Gr8Mom, ScrappingMachine, AustenLvr, etc. But since mine would read more like YouWantMeToCleanWhat?, GoAwayI'mReading, or It'sNotThePantsThatMakeMeLookFat...I don't see me coming up with anything short enough to describe myself in an internet friendly username.
So for now I'm stuck with gsd4de. Maybe I can make it stand for something else, but since I have to explain it as it is anyway that probably won't make much difference. Although it would be fun to randomly change the meaning.
Got Sons (&) Daughters 'for' Deserving Empathy
Gee, Someone Does "40" (4d) Easily
Get Some Donuts 'for' Delectible Expansion
Or not. German Shepherd Dogs 4 De works okay. Maybe it isn't all that clever, and you won't see it on any license plate...and it no longer makes sense since we don't actually have a real dog anymore. But it's me.
My husband has never liked that moniker. He thinks I'm trying to be clever. But if pressed, he can't come up with anything better so he keeps quiet. He isn't a fan of custom license plates either unless they are really brilliant, so I take his ribbing with a bucket of salt...
gsd4de stands for 'German Shepherd Dogs "for" De'. For 16 years my husband and I have had German Shepherds. That is, until our last gsd Gracie died this past summer. I had always planned on starting a kennel and raising beautiful, intelligent, friendly, healthy german shepherds. So maybe that screen name makes a little more sense to everyone.
And maybe you are all agreeing with my husband that it isn't clever enough. :)
Now that we no longer have german shepherds (which still feels really strange after so many years with them), my name makes even less sense now than it did before. But what do you do? I have had that name for so long now that everything is tied to it. I have TWO e-mail addresses with that listed. I am registered on a bunch of websites with that as my user name. To change it now seems like it would be similar to suddenly changing your home phone number or cell phone number and having to contact a million people to let them know.
Luckily for me I'm not feeling clever enough to come up with a snappy new name. We have two stinky toy poodles (so we aren't a completely dog-less family--although that is debateable if you don't really consider a poodle a dog...), but I don't want to be connected in anyway to poodles. They are my daughter's dogs. I don't claim them.
We also have a cat. She is stinky too, and I'm allergic to her so obviously that isn't even my first choice on the 2nd page.
I pretend we don't own three mice that are leftovers from my daughter's science fair project. So I won't go there.
Some people use things about themselves like Gr8Mom, ScrappingMachine, AustenLvr, etc. But since mine would read more like YouWantMeToCleanWhat?, GoAwayI'mReading, or It'sNotThePantsThatMakeMeLookFat...I don't see me coming up with anything short enough to describe myself in an internet friendly username.
So for now I'm stuck with gsd4de. Maybe I can make it stand for something else, but since I have to explain it as it is anyway that probably won't make much difference. Although it would be fun to randomly change the meaning.
Got Sons (&) Daughters 'for' Deserving Empathy
Gee, Someone Does "40" (4d) Easily
Get Some Donuts 'for' Delectible Expansion
Or not. German Shepherd Dogs 4 De works okay. Maybe it isn't all that clever, and you won't see it on any license plate...and it no longer makes sense since we don't actually have a real dog anymore. But it's me.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Writing Convention
I attended day one of my first writer's convention today. Day two is tomorrow. (Nice and orderly...) I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I'm pretty sure that even if tomorrow is horrible, I will have liked it well enough to already be looking forward to next year's convention.
It was fun for a few reasons (the least of which being letting my husband be the one home with the kids, so when Dom flushed his underwear down the toilet, my hubby was the lucky guy who got to fix that particular ick).
First, it was nice meeting people who like to write. Published or not, there are some awfully friendly folk at this convention.
Second, the workshops I attended were really well done and I learned something from all of them. One thing I learned is that there is no way I will win (or even place) in the 'First Chapters Writing Contest'. Which is actually a good thing. The minute they talked about POV I cringed and realized that I had inadvertantly done just that--switched point of view in the middle of a page. So regardless of anything else in my story, just that glaring error that shows my novice-ness (is that a word??) is enough to bump me back down the list. This year. Next year I'll go into it with a little more savvy. I might not win next year either, but I'm already looking forward to making it a close contest between me and the third place guy or gal. :)
[And just an addition--I was right in my contest assessment--I didn't win. But I got some great critiques that will do nothing but help me write (re-write) my book and I'm looking forward to getting at it tomorrow. And I DID win a lovely gift basket from Jewel Adams...so that was a huge bonus. She is great.]
Third, it was good to just think about writing for a couple of days. To learn about aspects of writing...research, self-publishing, self-promotion...the list goes on and on. So much learned in such a little time. And none of the discussions centered around the merits of who would win in an arm wrestle--Spongebob or Patrick.
[Speaking of Patrick--and I apologize for flinging myself completely off topic, but my 4 year old daughter asked me if there is a Saint Spongebob day since there is a St. Patrick's Day. Took me a minute to figure out what in the heck she was talking about "St. Spongebob???" but she cracked me up. The stink.]
So, what are some things I learned from the convention that I will implement immediately? I will tell people I am a writer. I will write more often in my blog and will read other blogs of authors and people "in the know", so that I improve and tighten up my own writing. I will choose to make time to write.
I will also try to think a bit before popping off when people ask me if I write. For example, when a lady sits next to me at a writing convention and asks "Are you a writer?" and I say "I pretend to be one." I will think first and NOT say that on the off chance said lady is an editor. [Yes, this happened, but luckily she didn't hold it against me and we ended up having a nice conversation and she gave me her card and requested that I send her something when I'm ready]. And I also won't tell a friend of mine when she finds out I was at a writer's convention and asks "Do you write?" and I say "Yes" (because I learned from the other example), and she says "Is it secret?" and I again pop off with the "No, it's sacred". Goodness, who in the world will take me halfway seriously if my smart mouth takes off before my brain tells it to keep shut?
So there you go. I am a writer.
And you thought I was just a rambler. :)
It was fun for a few reasons (the least of which being letting my husband be the one home with the kids, so when Dom flushed his underwear down the toilet, my hubby was the lucky guy who got to fix that particular ick).
First, it was nice meeting people who like to write. Published or not, there are some awfully friendly folk at this convention.
Second, the workshops I attended were really well done and I learned something from all of them. One thing I learned is that there is no way I will win (or even place) in the 'First Chapters Writing Contest'. Which is actually a good thing. The minute they talked about POV I cringed and realized that I had inadvertantly done just that--switched point of view in the middle of a page. So regardless of anything else in my story, just that glaring error that shows my novice-ness (is that a word??) is enough to bump me back down the list. This year. Next year I'll go into it with a little more savvy. I might not win next year either, but I'm already looking forward to making it a close contest between me and the third place guy or gal. :)
[And just an addition--I was right in my contest assessment--I didn't win. But I got some great critiques that will do nothing but help me write (re-write) my book and I'm looking forward to getting at it tomorrow. And I DID win a lovely gift basket from Jewel Adams...so that was a huge bonus. She is great.]
Third, it was good to just think about writing for a couple of days. To learn about aspects of writing...research, self-publishing, self-promotion...the list goes on and on. So much learned in such a little time. And none of the discussions centered around the merits of who would win in an arm wrestle--Spongebob or Patrick.
[Speaking of Patrick--and I apologize for flinging myself completely off topic, but my 4 year old daughter asked me if there is a Saint Spongebob day since there is a St. Patrick's Day. Took me a minute to figure out what in the heck she was talking about "St. Spongebob???" but she cracked me up. The stink.]
So, what are some things I learned from the convention that I will implement immediately? I will tell people I am a writer. I will write more often in my blog and will read other blogs of authors and people "in the know", so that I improve and tighten up my own writing. I will choose to make time to write.
I will also try to think a bit before popping off when people ask me if I write. For example, when a lady sits next to me at a writing convention and asks "Are you a writer?" and I say "I pretend to be one." I will think first and NOT say that on the off chance said lady is an editor. [Yes, this happened, but luckily she didn't hold it against me and we ended up having a nice conversation and she gave me her card and requested that I send her something when I'm ready]. And I also won't tell a friend of mine when she finds out I was at a writer's convention and asks "Do you write?" and I say "Yes" (because I learned from the other example), and she says "Is it secret?" and I again pop off with the "No, it's sacred". Goodness, who in the world will take me halfway seriously if my smart mouth takes off before my brain tells it to keep shut?
So there you go. I am a writer.
And you thought I was just a rambler. :)
Saturday, March 15, 2008
You Know You're Old When...
Okay, I know we've all realized that I am not getting any younger. And since I turned 40 a couple of months ago I've done my best to ignore that number. But seriously...there are things that happen naturally in the world that just slam home the fact that I am getting old(er). (parenthases added for my well-being and psyche)
For example:
Baggers, cashiers, Dominoes pizza delivery guys, and refrigerator repair men all calling me "Ma'am". Ouch. I know it is cliche` of me, but ma'am? It sounds old. I know I'm too old to be called "Miss", and "Lady" is just goofy. In all honesty I would rather be called "Hey You" than "Ma'am".
Another big example is when I realized that my doctor and my dentist are younger than I am. I took Kady to her physical for track and the doctor asked her if she thought her parents were old. Kady laughed and very politically correctly said "No", and my age then came up...the doctor said he was sure I was older than him and I said, "Unfortunately, I am positive I am older than you." I told him my age and he shrugged and admitted he is just 36.
Doctors are supposed to be old men. Now my daughter thinks they are old men, but I am four years older than they are.
(The good news there is that he thought I was younger than his 36, so I guess I will take that as a good thing--I'm still not happy about all of these realizations about my age lately, but I'll take the slight compliment wherever I can get it).
Another thing is that this past week my Uncle John passed away unexpectedly. Someone asked me if he was old and I said "No, he's only about...." and then I stopped talking. In my mind he was about 40. Then I realized that it is ME who is 40 now and he was closer to 70. He will always seem 40 to me. And if my Uncle is 40, I can't possibly be that old. Right?
(On a side note totally off subject, but needed at this juncture: Uncle John was a genuinely nice guy to me and my siblings. And although we didn't see much of him after he retired and moved out of this valley I will always remember him for his Chuck-A-Rama lunches that always ended with the biggest dessert of strawberry shortcake I have ever seen...We will all miss him and my sincere condolences go out to his wife and children and to my mom and Aunt).
So to sum up, I really don't mind being 40. What I mind is being reminded that I am 40. If I could avoid that part and continue on with my ignorant bliss of thinking I am younger than I am, I would be a happy gal.
And then maybe I wouldn't have the sudden urge to deck the next guy who smiles brightly and says to me, "Have a nice day, Ma'am".
For example:
Baggers, cashiers, Dominoes pizza delivery guys, and refrigerator repair men all calling me "Ma'am". Ouch. I know it is cliche` of me, but ma'am? It sounds old. I know I'm too old to be called "Miss", and "Lady" is just goofy. In all honesty I would rather be called "Hey You" than "Ma'am".
Another big example is when I realized that my doctor and my dentist are younger than I am. I took Kady to her physical for track and the doctor asked her if she thought her parents were old. Kady laughed and very politically correctly said "No", and my age then came up...the doctor said he was sure I was older than him and I said, "Unfortunately, I am positive I am older than you." I told him my age and he shrugged and admitted he is just 36.
Doctors are supposed to be old men. Now my daughter thinks they are old men, but I am four years older than they are.
(The good news there is that he thought I was younger than his 36, so I guess I will take that as a good thing--I'm still not happy about all of these realizations about my age lately, but I'll take the slight compliment wherever I can get it).
Another thing is that this past week my Uncle John passed away unexpectedly. Someone asked me if he was old and I said "No, he's only about...." and then I stopped talking. In my mind he was about 40. Then I realized that it is ME who is 40 now and he was closer to 70. He will always seem 40 to me. And if my Uncle is 40, I can't possibly be that old. Right?
(On a side note totally off subject, but needed at this juncture: Uncle John was a genuinely nice guy to me and my siblings. And although we didn't see much of him after he retired and moved out of this valley I will always remember him for his Chuck-A-Rama lunches that always ended with the biggest dessert of strawberry shortcake I have ever seen...We will all miss him and my sincere condolences go out to his wife and children and to my mom and Aunt).
So to sum up, I really don't mind being 40. What I mind is being reminded that I am 40. If I could avoid that part and continue on with my ignorant bliss of thinking I am younger than I am, I would be a happy gal.
And then maybe I wouldn't have the sudden urge to deck the next guy who smiles brightly and says to me, "Have a nice day, Ma'am".
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