It's been awhile since I posted. For several reasons. I've been busy at work and at home, and I've been in a funk. Not sure any of it has been avoidable, but it's certainly zapped my motivation to write.
One of the things many of us (including me) seem to turn to when we're down in the dumps is comfort food. That would be any food that just makes things better because it's so good and yummy. There are a lot of them. Many of them made better when given the Southern touch. I think I realized how much of an impact these foods carried when I recently went to Denver on businesss. There were 4 of us there, and we went to this very trendy restaurant one night for dinner. Next to the sea bass, arctic char, filet mignon, sushi, and grilled asparagus, in all their glory, were macaroni and cheese, meatloaf, and fried chicken. I threatened to order the fried chicken, just to see if it tasted the same away from home. That restaurant had some simply luscious food, but I can't imagine their fried chicken could hold a candle to my momma's. They did take the prize for the most eclectic menu I've ever seen, though!
What qualifies a food for the category of comfort? Well, there can be no mention of calories or fat grams or carbs. In fact, I'm fairly certain it has to be full of all of those to fit the bill. I'm thinking my famous mashed potatoes....homemade mac and cheese....again, my momma's fried chicken....my melt-in-your mouth meatloaf.....my grandma's warm banana pudding.....chocolate in any shape, form, or fashion.....brownies.
Speaking of brownies. I remember when I was in college. My best friend's boyfriend broke up with her. She was just miserable. So, I made a pan of brownies. We each took a spoon and dove into the pan. Twelve hours and plenty of tears and discussion later, the sun came up, she felt better, and the pan was completely empty.
Oh and I'd better not leave out ice cream. I mean, this stuff has seen me through a multitude of depressions and disappointments. I love Haagen Daz Chocolate Chocolate Chip. But if times are truly tough, nearly any chocolate flavor will do. Ben and Jerry's gets me with New York Super Fudge Chunk and Cherry Garcia. And if there's only vanilla....well, give me some hot fudge and I'm just fine with that, too!
Hardly any of the issues that send us running for the comfort food can actually be solved by it. But it sure does make facing things a little easier. The best part about it is that I know I can find all that food even in Denver. While it might not be cooked with bacon grease or butter....or heck, even a little lard, it's still there if I need it. And now I'm starving! The only question is...which comfort food will fill the bill???
Monday, November 12, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
The Disconnect
Well, this isn't a humorous post. It might not even hold your attention to the end. But sometimes, you just have to talk until you get everything out, you know?
I don't have many friends. It's weird. I pass through people's lives, or maybe I should say they pass through mine. I don't fight with them. Most of them I get along with quite well. For a season. And then, it's like extinguishing a candle. At some point, there's nothing left but a plume of smoke and an acrid smell. And darkness. And I'm alone again. Until the next one cycles through.
Lately, I've felt a real disconnect from some people in my life that I'd call friends. We've become occasional email buddies. I know what happens next. The emails revert to forwarded jokes or chain emails...first with little notes attached...and eventually not even that.
I know it's probably my fault. Maybe it's some kind of personality flaw. Maybe I just have a hard time relating to others. Maybe I withdraw. My husband doesn't like to socialize. He doesn't like for me to do anything without him. So I don't. So there's not much interaction with anyone unless it's at work or through email. That's my life. That's one of the reasons I enjoy my work so much. It's a bigger outlet than anyone could understand.
There are so many people that I remember fondly. That I miss terribly. That I regret losing contact with for whatever reason. Sometimes I think maybe God sends them to me or me to them to meet some need or whatever, and once the mission's accomplished, it's just time to move on. That's just the way it's meant to be. It's very lonely and isolating, though. Sometimes I question why I can't stick it out with a friend over the long haul just once, and I get mad at myself. I hope I've never hurt anyone with the disconnect. I certainly never meant to do so.
There are so many days that I feel like I'm drifting through life on a raft...watching it all slip past me. It's a really rotten feeling. It's those times when I wonder if there's anyone out there that will remember me or that I've had an impact on, the way others have impacted me. Or am I just that nameless face that came and went?
I don't have many friends. It's weird. I pass through people's lives, or maybe I should say they pass through mine. I don't fight with them. Most of them I get along with quite well. For a season. And then, it's like extinguishing a candle. At some point, there's nothing left but a plume of smoke and an acrid smell. And darkness. And I'm alone again. Until the next one cycles through.
Lately, I've felt a real disconnect from some people in my life that I'd call friends. We've become occasional email buddies. I know what happens next. The emails revert to forwarded jokes or chain emails...first with little notes attached...and eventually not even that.
I know it's probably my fault. Maybe it's some kind of personality flaw. Maybe I just have a hard time relating to others. Maybe I withdraw. My husband doesn't like to socialize. He doesn't like for me to do anything without him. So I don't. So there's not much interaction with anyone unless it's at work or through email. That's my life. That's one of the reasons I enjoy my work so much. It's a bigger outlet than anyone could understand.
There are so many people that I remember fondly. That I miss terribly. That I regret losing contact with for whatever reason. Sometimes I think maybe God sends them to me or me to them to meet some need or whatever, and once the mission's accomplished, it's just time to move on. That's just the way it's meant to be. It's very lonely and isolating, though. Sometimes I question why I can't stick it out with a friend over the long haul just once, and I get mad at myself. I hope I've never hurt anyone with the disconnect. I certainly never meant to do so.
There are so many days that I feel like I'm drifting through life on a raft...watching it all slip past me. It's a really rotten feeling. It's those times when I wonder if there's anyone out there that will remember me or that I've had an impact on, the way others have impacted me. Or am I just that nameless face that came and went?
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Go West, Southern Girl! Part Two
You can take a Southern Belle out of the South, but be certain that drawl will follow her everywhere! That's one accent we didn't hear from anyone else during our trip.
There is so much to see and do in San Francisco. It's very much geared to the outdoor life, and so beautiful. I wish we'd had more time to take in the sights, but we did what we could with the little time we had. Heck, we even went to the conference that was the reason for our trip!
Have you been on a cable car? Well, we never had, and we were determined to try it out. We just didn't know how you even begin to board one or pay for the ticket. So, we approached 3 ladies that were waiting at a stop. They were locals, and they explained to us that when a car stops, you look for an empty spot and jump on. Then you pay the man when he asks you for your ticket. $5 a ride. Sounded simple enough. So we waited. The car pulled up and it was bursting at the seams with people, but those 3 ladies went toward it, so we did, too. The man said at first that there were 3 spots. We saw the ladies disappear, and began to turn back toward the curb. The man on the car proceeded to yell at us to come back. Guess 3 really translates to 6 somehow. Now, the cars have seats, and they have poles to hold onto. The seats in the front of the car face out to the sides. So, if you get onto the side of the car and hold onto a pole, you are essentially right in the face of the person sitting in the seat. I found myself up close and personal with a lady who only spoke German. It was quite uncomfortable, as both of us were having our personal space invaded and this clanging car was rumbling up the hills with the cold wind blowing over us. But we smiled at one another anyhow.
My fellow travellers found spots on the other side of the car. They stood in the personal space of a local couple. The man told them that they seldom asked pretty girls to pay for a ticket. I had my money in my hand. But the thing about it was that the cable car operator disembarked midway through our ride, and another man took his place. So we were able to stop at Lombard St., the most crooked street ever, and didn't have to pay. I heard the story then from the girls. Being the person that I am, I kept my money securely in my hand. When we got on another car, my co-workers were clearly upset and incredulous when we were asked for our tickets. I dutifully handed my money over. They dug theirs out of their purses, and then they fussed about it for the rest of the trip. The nerve of him to ask them to pay!
I thought it was funny. I didn't say anything, but laughed to myself. The fact that they were so disgusted that they had to actually pay for public transportation wasn't the best part...it was that they were upset that this guy apparently didn't think they were pretty! So I got to hear all their perceived faults as they commiserated. I thought to myself what an odd thing that was, how different we were. I was just thankful that I got that first trip on the house!
The best thing about the cable car was watching them manually turn it on a large wooden turntable at the end of the line, so that it could go in the opposite direction. Everyone has to get off the car for them to turn it. Guess what that means? You get to pay again to ride back the way you just came! Oh, but you can pay $11 and ride all day. Or...you can build your gluteus muscles and try to walk up and down all those hills on your own! Not many fat people, I noticed! There were buses and taxis also, but you just have to experience the sardine effect of the cable car to appreciate it. How they ever actually manage to get to the top of the hills with all those people on board is a feat in itself. How no one manages to get knocked off and killed when two cars pass each other is beyond me.
My best advice if you just have to give it a try...make the attempt to get one of the seats. It's a much safer feeling than standing on the side of the car. And take a shower before you board....and pray that everyone else did the same!
There is so much to see and do in San Francisco. It's very much geared to the outdoor life, and so beautiful. I wish we'd had more time to take in the sights, but we did what we could with the little time we had. Heck, we even went to the conference that was the reason for our trip!
Have you been on a cable car? Well, we never had, and we were determined to try it out. We just didn't know how you even begin to board one or pay for the ticket. So, we approached 3 ladies that were waiting at a stop. They were locals, and they explained to us that when a car stops, you look for an empty spot and jump on. Then you pay the man when he asks you for your ticket. $5 a ride. Sounded simple enough. So we waited. The car pulled up and it was bursting at the seams with people, but those 3 ladies went toward it, so we did, too. The man said at first that there were 3 spots. We saw the ladies disappear, and began to turn back toward the curb. The man on the car proceeded to yell at us to come back. Guess 3 really translates to 6 somehow. Now, the cars have seats, and they have poles to hold onto. The seats in the front of the car face out to the sides. So, if you get onto the side of the car and hold onto a pole, you are essentially right in the face of the person sitting in the seat. I found myself up close and personal with a lady who only spoke German. It was quite uncomfortable, as both of us were having our personal space invaded and this clanging car was rumbling up the hills with the cold wind blowing over us. But we smiled at one another anyhow.
My fellow travellers found spots on the other side of the car. They stood in the personal space of a local couple. The man told them that they seldom asked pretty girls to pay for a ticket. I had my money in my hand. But the thing about it was that the cable car operator disembarked midway through our ride, and another man took his place. So we were able to stop at Lombard St., the most crooked street ever, and didn't have to pay. I heard the story then from the girls. Being the person that I am, I kept my money securely in my hand. When we got on another car, my co-workers were clearly upset and incredulous when we were asked for our tickets. I dutifully handed my money over. They dug theirs out of their purses, and then they fussed about it for the rest of the trip. The nerve of him to ask them to pay!
I thought it was funny. I didn't say anything, but laughed to myself. The fact that they were so disgusted that they had to actually pay for public transportation wasn't the best part...it was that they were upset that this guy apparently didn't think they were pretty! So I got to hear all their perceived faults as they commiserated. I thought to myself what an odd thing that was, how different we were. I was just thankful that I got that first trip on the house!
The best thing about the cable car was watching them manually turn it on a large wooden turntable at the end of the line, so that it could go in the opposite direction. Everyone has to get off the car for them to turn it. Guess what that means? You get to pay again to ride back the way you just came! Oh, but you can pay $11 and ride all day. Or...you can build your gluteus muscles and try to walk up and down all those hills on your own! Not many fat people, I noticed! There were buses and taxis also, but you just have to experience the sardine effect of the cable car to appreciate it. How they ever actually manage to get to the top of the hills with all those people on board is a feat in itself. How no one manages to get knocked off and killed when two cars pass each other is beyond me.
My best advice if you just have to give it a try...make the attempt to get one of the seats. It's a much safer feeling than standing on the side of the car. And take a shower before you board....and pray that everyone else did the same!
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Go West, Southern Girl! Part One
I must begin this post with a confession. Travel is not one of my strong suits. I adore the travel channel because it's the closest thing I get to a vacation. There are many reasons for this. I'm a workaholic. Big time. I'm the mother of a toddler who loves his routine. Big time. I'm married to a man that doesn't particularly like to do the tourist thing, and our ideas of vacation couldn't be more opposite. One of the downsides to our relationship. But I digress.
This past week, I got the opportunity to attend a conference for work. I went to San Francisco. My first ever trip to California. I was only there for 3 days, but I gathered a lot of blogging material!
I caught a cold right before I left town. Nothing major, just a general nuisance. I made a very painful discovery, though. When an airplane descends from its cruising altitude, havoc is wreaked on already swollen and painful sinuses. A searing, sharp, intense pain cut down my face and neck on four different occasions as I made my way there and back home again. Good times. I've been home for 3 days, and my ears are still popping and crackling as though Rice Krispies have set up housekeeping in their canals.
I also learned the meaning of jet lag. I traveled across 3 times zones. I know it's child's play for many people, but you have to remember I've never done this. I arrived home at 9pm Thursday night, and I had a to be at a meeting in Kentucky (an hour and fifteen minutes from my house) at 7am Friday morning. It is now Sunday. I still haven't recovered. Well, there is the little matter of the cold, and another female inconvenience that I will not elaborate on, as it's unladylike enough that I even mentioned it all. I'm one tired belle!
I saw some really amazing things, though, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to go. I was there with two of my co-workers. They're from Georgia. Three Southern girls out on their own! I will elaborate further in additional posts to come.
As for San Francisco, I made a little game of identifying jobs that would guarantee you could make a living there, based on my observations. In no particular order, here they are:
1. Hairstylist. It gets way windy there! The three of us had what we thought were wind-defying hairsprays in our arsenals, but not one of them survived the streets of San Fran!
2. Brake mechanic. Hills of the roller-coaster variety lend themselves to some cars in need of frequent brake jobs.
3. Orthopedic surgeon. Walking those hills are hard on the knees. And a lot of people are walking there. Knee replacement, anyone?
4. Back pack sales. Seemed like all the locals carried one. Why? It's warm in the morning, and windy and chilly at night. Hence the need to carry a coat and a place to put it as you traverse the roller coaster hills.
5. Coat and scarf sales. Something us Southern folk rarely need and I really didn't expect to be so popular on the west coast. But that October wind is really cold!
This isn't the best of the Go West posts, but I had to start somewhere. Stick around because the best is yet to come!
This past week, I got the opportunity to attend a conference for work. I went to San Francisco. My first ever trip to California. I was only there for 3 days, but I gathered a lot of blogging material!
I caught a cold right before I left town. Nothing major, just a general nuisance. I made a very painful discovery, though. When an airplane descends from its cruising altitude, havoc is wreaked on already swollen and painful sinuses. A searing, sharp, intense pain cut down my face and neck on four different occasions as I made my way there and back home again. Good times. I've been home for 3 days, and my ears are still popping and crackling as though Rice Krispies have set up housekeeping in their canals.
I also learned the meaning of jet lag. I traveled across 3 times zones. I know it's child's play for many people, but you have to remember I've never done this. I arrived home at 9pm Thursday night, and I had a to be at a meeting in Kentucky (an hour and fifteen minutes from my house) at 7am Friday morning. It is now Sunday. I still haven't recovered. Well, there is the little matter of the cold, and another female inconvenience that I will not elaborate on, as it's unladylike enough that I even mentioned it all. I'm one tired belle!
I saw some really amazing things, though, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to go. I was there with two of my co-workers. They're from Georgia. Three Southern girls out on their own! I will elaborate further in additional posts to come.
As for San Francisco, I made a little game of identifying jobs that would guarantee you could make a living there, based on my observations. In no particular order, here they are:
1. Hairstylist. It gets way windy there! The three of us had what we thought were wind-defying hairsprays in our arsenals, but not one of them survived the streets of San Fran!
2. Brake mechanic. Hills of the roller-coaster variety lend themselves to some cars in need of frequent brake jobs.
3. Orthopedic surgeon. Walking those hills are hard on the knees. And a lot of people are walking there. Knee replacement, anyone?
4. Back pack sales. Seemed like all the locals carried one. Why? It's warm in the morning, and windy and chilly at night. Hence the need to carry a coat and a place to put it as you traverse the roller coaster hills.
5. Coat and scarf sales. Something us Southern folk rarely need and I really didn't expect to be so popular on the west coast. But that October wind is really cold!
This isn't the best of the Go West posts, but I had to start somewhere. Stick around because the best is yet to come!
Monday, September 24, 2007
It Doesn't Take Much....
Finish that sentence however you like. To amuse me. To please me. To make me smile. To send me off into a daydream. Doesn't really matter how you finish it. It's really the beginning of the sentence that makes the whole point. It just doesn't take much.
I know. You're thinking, "What a profound statement!" And it really is, to tell the truth. It occurred to me this morning as I was driving. I found myself behind a car with a vanity plate. Those are a love/hate thing for me. I've always thought it was silly to pay extra money for something you never get to see, but I guess it's important for some people to make statements to the rest of the drivers out there. A way to define who they are and what's important to them. I don't know why, but today, this one got me. It was a green Audi. I had my mind on a million different things, and the iPod was blaring. As I got closer to the car, I saw it. "AUDI U DO." It's the first time I've ever laughed out loud at a vanity plate. There was just something about it. It wasn't narcissistic. It didn't boast about what the driver does or doesn't have. It didn't threaten or intimidate.
I have been under quite a bit of stress lately for various reasons. This morning, with that laugh, I felt completely relaxed for the first time since I took that trip to New England. That's when it hit me. It doesn't take much. Just a clever little license plate. So why is it so difficult? So elusive? If it doesn't take much, why is it that all of us struggle so much to find it?
It's an interesting point to ponder. But then, you see how I am. It doesn't take much....
I know. You're thinking, "What a profound statement!" And it really is, to tell the truth. It occurred to me this morning as I was driving. I found myself behind a car with a vanity plate. Those are a love/hate thing for me. I've always thought it was silly to pay extra money for something you never get to see, but I guess it's important for some people to make statements to the rest of the drivers out there. A way to define who they are and what's important to them. I don't know why, but today, this one got me. It was a green Audi. I had my mind on a million different things, and the iPod was blaring. As I got closer to the car, I saw it. "AUDI U DO." It's the first time I've ever laughed out loud at a vanity plate. There was just something about it. It wasn't narcissistic. It didn't boast about what the driver does or doesn't have. It didn't threaten or intimidate.
I have been under quite a bit of stress lately for various reasons. This morning, with that laugh, I felt completely relaxed for the first time since I took that trip to New England. That's when it hit me. It doesn't take much. Just a clever little license plate. So why is it so difficult? So elusive? If it doesn't take much, why is it that all of us struggle so much to find it?
It's an interesting point to ponder. But then, you see how I am. It doesn't take much....
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Curiosities
There are things in life that just make you go, "huh?" And the last couple of days, I've been thinking about some of them. I figure, why should I contemplate all by myself?
So at work we have these water-saver toilets. They hold so little water in the bowl, that if the toilet paper isn't aimed just right, it won't go down when flushed. The women's bathroom closest to my office has 6 stalls in it. It's like a symphony of flushing when you go in there. Nobody wants to leave anything behind, so to speak. First flush is rarely successful. So there's multiple tries. You have to love this. Now, I'm thinking two things. First, whoever said these toilets will save money is nothing short of crazy! Give me an old-fashioned toilet that holds like 20 gallons of water and creates a waterspout when you flush. Everything goes down first time, every time. And I bet in the end it doesn't cost any more money. The second thing, all that extra time spent flushing cuts down on productivity...think about it. Heck, you could write a blog paragraph in the time you spend in the bathroom! ;-)
My other point to ponder....toilet paper. The kind you can see through that you find in every public restroom and every employer's restroom in the country. Clearly not invented or purchased by a female. Minimally functional at best, you use 2-3 times as much to get the proverbial job done. Which only serves to exacerbate the aforementioned flushing dilemma!
I think about things other than bathroom matters, though. Like the HOV lane. Nice concept that doesn't translate very well. Every morning, I'm driving to work watching hundreds of solo drivers pass me in the HOV lane. Why? Because I think around 90% of us on the road are out there by ourselves. Why waste a perfectly good and wide-open lane of pavement like that? It's just too tempting to resist! Even, I have to admit, for me!
Then, there's the whole elevator etiquette issue. Does it make sense to try to get into an elevator when those inside are trying to get out? And do we really have to all look down at the floor or up at the floor numbers for the whole ride? Do you try to make pleasant conversation, or just pretend to be deep in thought? I prefer a polite smile and a silent ride, myself.
That's just the few things I'm thinking about these last few days. There'll be more later, I'm sure!
So at work we have these water-saver toilets. They hold so little water in the bowl, that if the toilet paper isn't aimed just right, it won't go down when flushed. The women's bathroom closest to my office has 6 stalls in it. It's like a symphony of flushing when you go in there. Nobody wants to leave anything behind, so to speak. First flush is rarely successful. So there's multiple tries. You have to love this. Now, I'm thinking two things. First, whoever said these toilets will save money is nothing short of crazy! Give me an old-fashioned toilet that holds like 20 gallons of water and creates a waterspout when you flush. Everything goes down first time, every time. And I bet in the end it doesn't cost any more money. The second thing, all that extra time spent flushing cuts down on productivity...think about it. Heck, you could write a blog paragraph in the time you spend in the bathroom! ;-)
My other point to ponder....toilet paper. The kind you can see through that you find in every public restroom and every employer's restroom in the country. Clearly not invented or purchased by a female. Minimally functional at best, you use 2-3 times as much to get the proverbial job done. Which only serves to exacerbate the aforementioned flushing dilemma!
I think about things other than bathroom matters, though. Like the HOV lane. Nice concept that doesn't translate very well. Every morning, I'm driving to work watching hundreds of solo drivers pass me in the HOV lane. Why? Because I think around 90% of us on the road are out there by ourselves. Why waste a perfectly good and wide-open lane of pavement like that? It's just too tempting to resist! Even, I have to admit, for me!
Then, there's the whole elevator etiquette issue. Does it make sense to try to get into an elevator when those inside are trying to get out? And do we really have to all look down at the floor or up at the floor numbers for the whole ride? Do you try to make pleasant conversation, or just pretend to be deep in thought? I prefer a polite smile and a silent ride, myself.
That's just the few things I'm thinking about these last few days. There'll be more later, I'm sure!
Monday, September 17, 2007
Flirtin' With Disaster
The topic of this blog came from the inside of a Dove candy wrapper. Did I mention I love chocolate? Well, I opened one up and on the inside they have these little messages, and it said, "flirting is mandatory." I have to say that this is very true, even for a southern lady. Or should I say, particularly for a southern lady.
I'm not talking about the full-on, robust, and sometimes bordering on raunchy kind of flirtation. The in-your-face stuff is simply not appropriate. No, the proper way to flirt...the ladylike way...is to be very subtle...the ultimate coquette. Most women have an innate ability to do this. Some of us hone the skill over time. We watch and learn from the women around us. This is not always a good thing.
I never realized how good I was at it until one fateful day at church. Yes, at church. This is not one of the finer moments in my life, and may change how some who read this see me. But alas, it happened.
It was a very small church without many singles in it. I was very active, singing in the choir, working with vacation Bible school, and teaching Sunday School for the college kids. And I was single. Now, you have to understand that I don't have a very good self-esteem. To think that any man could be interested in me "that way" was just absolutely ridiculous to me at the time. I was on some of the church committees and spent a bit of time with several of the men in our church, especially the pastor. We all got along very well.
One night, after choir practice and before church started, the pastor's wife asked me if she could speak to me in private. I thought she was going to ask me to help her with something, perhaps babysit her children as I had done in the past. But no. She had to tell me that it bothered her immensely to see me sitting up there in the choir behind her husband. That she thought I was trolling for him. That she didn't like this and wanted me to stop.
I sat there listening to her and I cannot tell you how astonished I was. I tried to put my finger on exactly what she could be getting at. I didn't want her husband. In fact, my first thought was "EWWWWW!!!" The hurt I felt that she could be thinking this was beyond comprehension. I apologized to her profusely, and I quit the choir that day. I left that church soon after. I just couldn't figure out how it got to that point, and I was afraid it might escalate in her mind.
What that encounter taught me is that it's easy for me to flirt, maybe even when I don't intend to do so. I've become very sensitive to this ever since. Because I know that I turn on the charm when I want something. I'm no sex kitten. So the fact that this could be such a powerful tool in my arsenal astounds me. And it scares me that I might utilize it without even thinking or intending to do so. It's that innate, I suppose.
A friend once told me that my voice perpetuates this problem. It's a little low and smooth, sort of in the Kathleen Turner department. The "$4.95 a minute" voice. If I want to, I can drop it down a notch and make it sound very inviting. So, I have to mind that, too.
It's an amazing thing, how women have these tools. How we just know to use them and quickly learn how they benefit us. Bless our hearts, we almost can't help ourselves! Because even ogres like me can work it sometimes!
I'm not talking about the full-on, robust, and sometimes bordering on raunchy kind of flirtation. The in-your-face stuff is simply not appropriate. No, the proper way to flirt...the ladylike way...is to be very subtle...the ultimate coquette. Most women have an innate ability to do this. Some of us hone the skill over time. We watch and learn from the women around us. This is not always a good thing.
I never realized how good I was at it until one fateful day at church. Yes, at church. This is not one of the finer moments in my life, and may change how some who read this see me. But alas, it happened.
It was a very small church without many singles in it. I was very active, singing in the choir, working with vacation Bible school, and teaching Sunday School for the college kids. And I was single. Now, you have to understand that I don't have a very good self-esteem. To think that any man could be interested in me "that way" was just absolutely ridiculous to me at the time. I was on some of the church committees and spent a bit of time with several of the men in our church, especially the pastor. We all got along very well.
One night, after choir practice and before church started, the pastor's wife asked me if she could speak to me in private. I thought she was going to ask me to help her with something, perhaps babysit her children as I had done in the past. But no. She had to tell me that it bothered her immensely to see me sitting up there in the choir behind her husband. That she thought I was trolling for him. That she didn't like this and wanted me to stop.
I sat there listening to her and I cannot tell you how astonished I was. I tried to put my finger on exactly what she could be getting at. I didn't want her husband. In fact, my first thought was "EWWWWW!!!" The hurt I felt that she could be thinking this was beyond comprehension. I apologized to her profusely, and I quit the choir that day. I left that church soon after. I just couldn't figure out how it got to that point, and I was afraid it might escalate in her mind.
What that encounter taught me is that it's easy for me to flirt, maybe even when I don't intend to do so. I've become very sensitive to this ever since. Because I know that I turn on the charm when I want something. I'm no sex kitten. So the fact that this could be such a powerful tool in my arsenal astounds me. And it scares me that I might utilize it without even thinking or intending to do so. It's that innate, I suppose.
A friend once told me that my voice perpetuates this problem. It's a little low and smooth, sort of in the Kathleen Turner department. The "$4.95 a minute" voice. If I want to, I can drop it down a notch and make it sound very inviting. So, I have to mind that, too.
It's an amazing thing, how women have these tools. How we just know to use them and quickly learn how they benefit us. Bless our hearts, we almost can't help ourselves! Because even ogres like me can work it sometimes!
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