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....
Monday, September 24, 2007
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!
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Joy
There are so many ways and reasons to get aggravated with this world and everything in it. I have identified a great many of those ways and reasons. Joyful events are a welcome diversion, and I try not to take them for granted.
My son provides me with nearly all of my joyful events. He doesn't even have to make an effort, because his existence is really all it takes. There are some highlights, though, that I think about when I'm having a really bad day.
I love his laugh. That sweet, infectious laugh that's often accompanied by a high-pitched squeal. It's so pure and happy. Watching him laugh is even better, because he's got these great dimples and his eyes sparkle. I fall in love with him all over again.
One of my favorite joys happened just this past weekend. We were putting him to bed, and we've been trying hard to get him to tell us goodnight. Sometimes he'll do it, and sometimes he just refuses. Saturday night, he looked up at us as he snuggled under the covers and said, "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy. I love you." My heart melted. You never want to admit it to your kids, but it's times like these that they could ask for the moon and you wouldn't say no for anything. His speech was delayed due to his heart surgery and frequent ear infections that prevented him from hearing speech normally. It's slow progress, but we work with him, and he's doing better every day. I keep hearing him say those words, and it's better than chocolate. Now, anybody that knows me knows this is monumental. Because I would have sworn that such a thing wasn't possible. My husband has certainly never achieved this status, bless his heart!
The other great joy that Brock gives me is when I come in the door from work. Now, everybody talks about that unconditional love a dog gives you. How they can meet you at the door with tail wagging and just be so happy to see you, even if you only left 5 minutes ago. Well, that doesn't hold a candle to what I get from him. It doesn't matter what he's doing or holding, when he sees me, it's dropped and forgotten. He goes into a full-on run, exclaiming, "Mommy! Mommy!" over and over again until he actually reaches me. At that point, he throws himself against me and holds on for dear life. If I pick him up, he squeezes me and kisses me. I swear, heaven must feel something like this. The only thing better than that is that it happens again the very next time I walk in.
I also love it when he takes my hand. He will do this when he wants me to come play with him, or when he wants me to go into another room. The feel of his hand in mine is just the best.
I've done something from the time he was born. I like to stroke his cheek. At first, it was with just one finger, but now he's big enough that I can use my hand. The coolest part about it...he does it back to me. Just the same way. He looks into my eyes and is just so gentle. I think to myself that he clearly feels the same way I do about this gesture. He gives back all the love that I give him every time I do it.
I guess you can tell that I really love my son. It's impossible to describe it to anyone that doesn't have children. It's like when the Grinch's heart grew. Mine just expanded the day I found out I was going to have him, and it hasn't stopped growing since. I love him unconditionally and completely. And everyone keeps telling me to remember these moments when he is a teenager. Which is one of the reasons that I'm writing it now. Because I don't ever want to forget this kind of joy.
My son provides me with nearly all of my joyful events. He doesn't even have to make an effort, because his existence is really all it takes. There are some highlights, though, that I think about when I'm having a really bad day.
I love his laugh. That sweet, infectious laugh that's often accompanied by a high-pitched squeal. It's so pure and happy. Watching him laugh is even better, because he's got these great dimples and his eyes sparkle. I fall in love with him all over again.
One of my favorite joys happened just this past weekend. We were putting him to bed, and we've been trying hard to get him to tell us goodnight. Sometimes he'll do it, and sometimes he just refuses. Saturday night, he looked up at us as he snuggled under the covers and said, "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy. I love you." My heart melted. You never want to admit it to your kids, but it's times like these that they could ask for the moon and you wouldn't say no for anything. His speech was delayed due to his heart surgery and frequent ear infections that prevented him from hearing speech normally. It's slow progress, but we work with him, and he's doing better every day. I keep hearing him say those words, and it's better than chocolate. Now, anybody that knows me knows this is monumental. Because I would have sworn that such a thing wasn't possible. My husband has certainly never achieved this status, bless his heart!
The other great joy that Brock gives me is when I come in the door from work. Now, everybody talks about that unconditional love a dog gives you. How they can meet you at the door with tail wagging and just be so happy to see you, even if you only left 5 minutes ago. Well, that doesn't hold a candle to what I get from him. It doesn't matter what he's doing or holding, when he sees me, it's dropped and forgotten. He goes into a full-on run, exclaiming, "Mommy! Mommy!" over and over again until he actually reaches me. At that point, he throws himself against me and holds on for dear life. If I pick him up, he squeezes me and kisses me. I swear, heaven must feel something like this. The only thing better than that is that it happens again the very next time I walk in.
I also love it when he takes my hand. He will do this when he wants me to come play with him, or when he wants me to go into another room. The feel of his hand in mine is just the best.
I've done something from the time he was born. I like to stroke his cheek. At first, it was with just one finger, but now he's big enough that I can use my hand. The coolest part about it...he does it back to me. Just the same way. He looks into my eyes and is just so gentle. I think to myself that he clearly feels the same way I do about this gesture. He gives back all the love that I give him every time I do it.
I guess you can tell that I really love my son. It's impossible to describe it to anyone that doesn't have children. It's like when the Grinch's heart grew. Mine just expanded the day I found out I was going to have him, and it hasn't stopped growing since. I love him unconditionally and completely. And everyone keeps telling me to remember these moments when he is a teenager. Which is one of the reasons that I'm writing it now. Because I don't ever want to forget this kind of joy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)