It's a beautiful day at the beach. The sun was coming through the window at 6:30. I was tempted to get up and write, but obviously not that tempted, because it is now 9:00am. It is still quiet though. I can sit on the balcony and stare at the ocean, drink my coffee, chat with my daughter and write...and congratulate myself for being such a multi-tasker. Life is good.
I have recovered from my somber mood yesterday, not so much because of anything I did, but because my kids refuse to let me be depressed for long. There is something about activity that pushes one from "feeling sorry for myself " mode to "snap out of it" mode. So today, back to life and all it's mysteries.
Do you ever wonder why no matter how well you thought you packed for a trip, you always forget something? Over the course of the last 10 years, my life has included a lot of travel. Whether it has involved work or pleasure, there has generally been an open suit case in my closet for the better part of a decade. Though I have become fairly efficient at packing for my family, I am always looking for better ways to do it. A couple of years ago, I read an interesting article about packing for vacation by some famous fashion editor. She suggested only packing 5 items in black and white. I tried that on the next vacation. It didn't work for me. Now, my husband only allows one carry on bag on any given trip, so I am all about minimalism. But this was too much even for me. After 1 day, I had worn everything twice. After 3 days, Tony asked, "Are you going to wear the same thing everyday?" I tore up that article as soon as I got home.
I made 2 major packing errors on this trip. No shirts for my son and no underwear for Tony. For Matthew, this is no problem. He would wear the same thing every day for a year as long as it is comfortable. To Tony's credit, he didn't even mention this for 24 hours. And even then, he diplomatically asked if I had "put it in a special place." Fortunately, Target is only minutes away, and the whole problem was solved for under $15.
The bigger question is why I forgot their underwear and shirts, but I some how got to the beach with 15 bathing suits. The embarrassing answer is that I love bathing suits. It's very strange, because I am one of those people who have a very stream-lined closet. I discard everything that hasn't been worn for a year and limit trendy purchases, and all of that "Tim Gunn" advice stuff. But when it comes to bathing suits, it is another story all together. I have whole drawers dedicated to swimsuits. I save them for years. If we want to look at it psychologically, perhaps it is because my choices were so limited during my early life (see earlier blogs). However, if we want to be honest, I just like them. Mine fall into several categories:
1) The old standby bikini. This is an old bikini I bought from Target about 5 years ago. (Giving Target a lot of press today). It is brown with turquoise and orange dots on it. It doesn't look remarkable in the drawer, but it is the suit that I can put on with no tan, no make up, work outs skipped for weeks...and still look in the mirror and say "ok". When I put this suit on, my daughter says "cute suit." My son says, "Yo, sexy mama, swimsuit model mama". My husband murmurs a few lines that don't belong in a blog. And I feel good.
2) The one piece swim team suit. This is required for all moms. This is suit that you race your kids with in the pool. This is the suit you build sand castles in. This is the suit you play frisbee in.
Enough said.
3) The "I'm only laying out" suit. This is the suit that gives good tan line. Not much to it, but it's ok, cause you're just lying there.
4) The "new suit in the catalogue that you just have to have" suit. This is the suit you see every year in a catalogue that you cannot get out of your mind. You see it in, like, February in a catalogue. You keep the catalogue on your nightstand and stare at the suit every few days. You try and talk yourself out of it. But a month before spring break, you order it. For me, this year it was the white strapless suit in the Boston Proper catalogue that looked just like the suit that Charlotte wore in the "Sex and the City" movie. Of course, the one in the movie was La Perla and it it cost $550. I will shamefully admit that I considered it for 17 seconds before the reality of life and conscience kicked back in. I ordered the copy, but to my great disappointment, it is on back-order. (Is there a worse word in the English language than "back-ordered"?)
5) That brings us to the final category. These are the suits that you thought looked cute on the rack, but you didn't try them on and now you are stuck with them because there are no refunds on swimsuits. Oops.
So today I am going with old standby. I have already gotten the "cute suit" comment from Gabrielle. Now I am waiting for the "Yo sexy mama" from Matt. It's going to be a good day at the beach.
Until tomorrow, when talk turns to what we bring to read at the beach...
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Occasionally It Has To Be Sad...(But Tomorrow is Another day)
It's a very melancholy day here at the beach. Usually when I sit on the balcony, I can see for miles over the ocean. But today, I can't even see the sand. Funny how it suits my state of mind. My mom died 4 months ago today. 7 months ago, she was here at the beach with me. Though she was fighting many different health issues, including a little dementia, I did not see it coming. We had a lovely time, and I will always be thankful that I had that last little bit of fun with her before the downhill spiral started.
When I logged onto my computer this morning, mom's name lit up in my address book. Just for old time's sake, I sent her an e-mail. Now that account has long since been cancelled, so I fully expect to get one of those "mailer-damon" messages later on in the day, but a little bit of suspended belief never hurts on a day like today. In fact, it seems to be kind of the norm.
A friend of mine e-mailed me telling me that as he drove into work this morning, a particular song he liked came on the radio. At the same moment, the title appeared on the radio screen and on his blackberry too. For privacy's sake, I won't mention the title, but suffice it so say that it was full of implied meaning. My friend wondered if it was "coincidence or message from above?" I told him which ever he prefers.
Another friend lost her mother last week. She said she felt like an "orphan." I had to go write this down because I could relate to it so much. It is a very odd feeling being without parents in the world. It feels as though something is always missing. I use to talk with my mom at least 4 or 5 days a week. Even near the end, when she often would not remember the conversation, it was still a comfort to me. Just the sound of her voice allowed me to keep my sense of the world in tact. My belief system allows me to think that I will see her again one day, but there are days when that just doesn't fill the void.
As I kind of bask in today's sense of quiet sadness, I am reminded of another friend who is dealing with the anniversary of the death of her son. The perspective this brings to my situation immediately re-focuses my grief and reminds me that at least mine falls within the circle of life. Death is suppose to follow some kind of order or sequence. This is how we can make sense of it. When the sequence isn't followed, it defies any explanation or justification. So I send her my love and my thoughts and my prayers. And the hope that none of us are dealt with more than we can handle. I'm not sure that "if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger." But I am sure that if it doesn't kill you, you at least get another day to live and love.
When I was a little girl, my mom would cook me oatmeal in the morning, tuck me in at night, and even check on me periodically during the night. During our last trip here together at the beach, the roles were reversed. It was as if we had come full circle. I would fix her oatmeal, make sure she was comfortable and happy, and peek in during the night to make sure she was sleeping well.
I guess what goes around truly does come around.
So tomorrow is another lovely day at the beach. The fog is already burning off, and I hope that my melancholy mood burns off too. Besides my family and friends, it is my sense of humor that seems to push me through the pitfalls of life. I will be searching for it as the day goes on.
Lately, every time I turn on the tv, the movie Forrest Gump is on. I like the movie, but it has never been a favorite. However, every time it comes on, I find myself watching for a few minutes and hearing something truly prophetic. Today, the line that comes to mind is at the end, after Jenny dies. Forrest is at her grave speaking to her and he says "If you need me, I'm never far away." So today, the same goes for you mom. If you need me, I'm never far away...
Until tomorrow, with the promise of happier tone...
When I logged onto my computer this morning, mom's name lit up in my address book. Just for old time's sake, I sent her an e-mail. Now that account has long since been cancelled, so I fully expect to get one of those "mailer-damon" messages later on in the day, but a little bit of suspended belief never hurts on a day like today. In fact, it seems to be kind of the norm.
A friend of mine e-mailed me telling me that as he drove into work this morning, a particular song he liked came on the radio. At the same moment, the title appeared on the radio screen and on his blackberry too. For privacy's sake, I won't mention the title, but suffice it so say that it was full of implied meaning. My friend wondered if it was "coincidence or message from above?" I told him which ever he prefers.
Another friend lost her mother last week. She said she felt like an "orphan." I had to go write this down because I could relate to it so much. It is a very odd feeling being without parents in the world. It feels as though something is always missing. I use to talk with my mom at least 4 or 5 days a week. Even near the end, when she often would not remember the conversation, it was still a comfort to me. Just the sound of her voice allowed me to keep my sense of the world in tact. My belief system allows me to think that I will see her again one day, but there are days when that just doesn't fill the void.
As I kind of bask in today's sense of quiet sadness, I am reminded of another friend who is dealing with the anniversary of the death of her son. The perspective this brings to my situation immediately re-focuses my grief and reminds me that at least mine falls within the circle of life. Death is suppose to follow some kind of order or sequence. This is how we can make sense of it. When the sequence isn't followed, it defies any explanation or justification. So I send her my love and my thoughts and my prayers. And the hope that none of us are dealt with more than we can handle. I'm not sure that "if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger." But I am sure that if it doesn't kill you, you at least get another day to live and love.
When I was a little girl, my mom would cook me oatmeal in the morning, tuck me in at night, and even check on me periodically during the night. During our last trip here together at the beach, the roles were reversed. It was as if we had come full circle. I would fix her oatmeal, make sure she was comfortable and happy, and peek in during the night to make sure she was sleeping well.
I guess what goes around truly does come around.
So tomorrow is another lovely day at the beach. The fog is already burning off, and I hope that my melancholy mood burns off too. Besides my family and friends, it is my sense of humor that seems to push me through the pitfalls of life. I will be searching for it as the day goes on.
Lately, every time I turn on the tv, the movie Forrest Gump is on. I like the movie, but it has never been a favorite. However, every time it comes on, I find myself watching for a few minutes and hearing something truly prophetic. Today, the line that comes to mind is at the end, after Jenny dies. Forrest is at her grave speaking to her and he says "If you need me, I'm never far away." So today, the same goes for you mom. If you need me, I'm never far away...
Until tomorrow, with the promise of happier tone...
Friday, March 6, 2009
"Here a question arises-whether it is better to be loved than feared, or the reverse."
Among the responses to yesterday's blog were two in particular that I wanted address before moving on with today's subject. To the person who felt like the conversation this week had "definitely sunk to a low level" , just a reminder that this is a daily blog of my life, not the thesis for my doctorate or my submission for the Nobel Peace prize in literature. Every morning, after I take the kids to school, I give myself 32 minutes to complete the blog before I start on an article or pretend to work on my novel. The subject matter generally follows what is happening in my life. For better or worse, my life is probably more Disney Channel than PBS, more ESPN than CNN, so please judge accordingly.
As for the person who said "I enjoy your sarcasm with my morning coffee", it is hardly ever my intention to be sarcastic. I do try to strike an ironic tone, because my life teeters on the edge of chaos and dysfunction (like most people?) So I appreciate what I think was meant as a compliment, but just wanted to tweak the premise......Now on with today's subject.....
I was meant to be packing for the beach last night, but was met at every turn with distractions. My 6th grade son has a major science test today, and for the first time this year, I kind of left it up to him to prepare for it. Over the last few years, due to the difficulty of his school and his questionable study habits, I have interjected myself pretty deeply into his nightly routine.We normally start reviewing about a week prior to any science test. Let me re-phrase that. I start reviewing and he makes a grand show of turning down the sound on ESPN to listen to me. Last month the chapter was on reproduction. If you remember 6th grade science, this is "the big one." You know, when they separate the boys and the girls and give you the real "facts of life" whether you want to know them or not. Prior to this chapter, my husband had supposedly given Matt "the talk", so I figured the reproductive chapter would be a breeze. I was sadly mistaken. During our review (which he rebelled against because "this is so gross to talk about with your mom"), it became clear that dad's talk had been more about slang words and male bonding than any sort of factual information. He ended up with a B on the test, and I still worry about his lack of understanding on the subject.
This month's chapter is on the elements and I am essentially clueless on the subject. I begged and pleaded with him all week long to study, only to be met with sighs and grimaces. Finally, I threatened to take away his beloved "24" program if he makes below a B. Therein lies the problem.
Do you remember reading Machaivelli's "The Prince" in college? Remember the treatise where he discusses whether one should prefer to be feared or loved? Isn't that the grand question in daily discipline with kids? Do I want to be loved or feared? In a work environment, it's a whole different dynamic. In my previous life, when I managed people and not children, I generally chose fear, because love didn't get any work done. But with your kids, it is so hard to feel disliked, even if it for the "greater cause." When Matt is mad at me because I make him study, I go to bed sad, but a deeper voice tells me it is for his own good. If I let him off the hook, he goes to bed telling me how great I am, but I go to bed guilty, knowing deep down that I have taken the easy road, and somehow let him down.
I guess there are no easy answers when you are raising your kids. Some days I discipline with love, and some days I do it with fear. Either way, there is also a lot of praying and crossing of fingers that goes on too. I'm hoping Matt winds up with at least a B on his science test, mainly because I want him to do well. But also because I look forward to watching "24" with him every Monday night. I'll let you know how it turns out...
As I mentioned earlier, next week I'll be blogging from the beach. For those of you who tell me that you like to read it with your morning coffee, you might have to push it back to your mid-day diet coke or your evening glass of wine, because I'll hopefully be writing later in the day...
And for those wondering about the subject matter next week, I'm thinking "Bikinis vs One Pieces...the real story"............until next week
As for the person who said "I enjoy your sarcasm with my morning coffee", it is hardly ever my intention to be sarcastic. I do try to strike an ironic tone, because my life teeters on the edge of chaos and dysfunction (like most people?) So I appreciate what I think was meant as a compliment, but just wanted to tweak the premise......Now on with today's subject.....
I was meant to be packing for the beach last night, but was met at every turn with distractions. My 6th grade son has a major science test today, and for the first time this year, I kind of left it up to him to prepare for it. Over the last few years, due to the difficulty of his school and his questionable study habits, I have interjected myself pretty deeply into his nightly routine.We normally start reviewing about a week prior to any science test. Let me re-phrase that. I start reviewing and he makes a grand show of turning down the sound on ESPN to listen to me. Last month the chapter was on reproduction. If you remember 6th grade science, this is "the big one." You know, when they separate the boys and the girls and give you the real "facts of life" whether you want to know them or not. Prior to this chapter, my husband had supposedly given Matt "the talk", so I figured the reproductive chapter would be a breeze. I was sadly mistaken. During our review (which he rebelled against because "this is so gross to talk about with your mom"), it became clear that dad's talk had been more about slang words and male bonding than any sort of factual information. He ended up with a B on the test, and I still worry about his lack of understanding on the subject.
This month's chapter is on the elements and I am essentially clueless on the subject. I begged and pleaded with him all week long to study, only to be met with sighs and grimaces. Finally, I threatened to take away his beloved "24" program if he makes below a B. Therein lies the problem.
Do you remember reading Machaivelli's "The Prince" in college? Remember the treatise where he discusses whether one should prefer to be feared or loved? Isn't that the grand question in daily discipline with kids? Do I want to be loved or feared? In a work environment, it's a whole different dynamic. In my previous life, when I managed people and not children, I generally chose fear, because love didn't get any work done. But with your kids, it is so hard to feel disliked, even if it for the "greater cause." When Matt is mad at me because I make him study, I go to bed sad, but a deeper voice tells me it is for his own good. If I let him off the hook, he goes to bed telling me how great I am, but I go to bed guilty, knowing deep down that I have taken the easy road, and somehow let him down.
I guess there are no easy answers when you are raising your kids. Some days I discipline with love, and some days I do it with fear. Either way, there is also a lot of praying and crossing of fingers that goes on too. I'm hoping Matt winds up with at least a B on his science test, mainly because I want him to do well. But also because I look forward to watching "24" with him every Monday night. I'll let you know how it turns out...
As I mentioned earlier, next week I'll be blogging from the beach. For those of you who tell me that you like to read it with your morning coffee, you might have to push it back to your mid-day diet coke or your evening glass of wine, because I'll hopefully be writing later in the day...
And for those wondering about the subject matter next week, I'm thinking "Bikinis vs One Pieces...the real story"............until next week
Thursday, March 5, 2009
My Apologies to the Man in the Next Chair
It was brought to my attention that I need to either finish my "adventures from the hair salon" story. or stop with the teasers. So let me wrap up the story so we can leave the salon...
As I said yesterday, after all talk of the Bachelor had subsided (including a sad follow-up conversation on Joe the Millionaire and some other show called My Big Fat Fiance), I now turned to eaves-dropping on the conversation the adjoining stylist was having with her customer. He was an older gentleman, probably pushing 70, maybe even 75. She was desperately trying to explain to him how she wanted to cut his hair, but her references were going over his head. Finally, she looked around and said, "Does anyone remember the name of that old country singer fellow whose last name was Wagoner?" Well listen, I am from Tennessee, and this is the only reason I can think of that I knew. I don't love country music, although I can listen to Vince or Willie or Carrie with no problem. But out of my mouth popped "Porter Wagoner." Well, the stylist jumped for joy. This was the name she was searching for. I felt like killing myself because I would now forever be known as "the lady who knew who Porter Wagoner is"...and THAT IS NOT WHO I AM!" Once again, I have to refer back to a slightly traumatic childhood memory. I cringe as I say this...but the only possible way I could have known that little tidbit of information is because my dad used to watch HeeHaw. In fact, he heehawed at Heehaw. This show was pretty much a variety show version of Dukes of Hazzard.
Let me stress that I could not have been more than 5 or 6 when this show was on, but even at that tender age, I realized that there was something inherently wrong with that humor, and I could never understand my intelligent, sweet, articulate father practically guffawing at this show. ANYWAY, Porter Wagoner often performed on that show, and that painful memory was brought to the forefront...
On with the story...as soon as I say it, the little old man literally glares at me. And then it dawns on me...he KNEW who she was referring to, but he was pretending not to!!! He was hoping I was going to say "Robert Wagoner" or even "Jack Wagoner"...but instead, I backed up her assertion that he would look like Porter. Remember on "Sex and the City" when Charlotte says "In some cultures, heavy women with mustaches are considered beautiful?" and Samantha answers "And you're looking at me while you're saying that?."....same thing. Needless to say, we sat in uncomfortable silence the rest of the time.
One more question to throw out into the universe about the hair salon. Do you ever notice when the young girl (who sweeps up hair) comes around to take the lunch order of the stylists, the price level of the takeout orders are astounding? I mean, nobody is ordering the value meal from McDonald's. They are all getting 3 course meals from the gourmet restaurant next door (where I have only eaten on my anniversary...I'm just saying) I'm sitting there wondering if I'll have enough money left over after the tip to get a coke out of the machine, and they are debating between steak and shrimp.
Of course, as I pay my bill, it all becomes clear. The tip alone is enough to make someone's car payment. And you know what? Good for them. Just the ability to sit there all day and placate all of their customers is a real skill. More power to them. (And maybe I should open a restaurant near by)
So we now exit the hair salon. I'm going to the beach next week, so tomorrow let's talk about bathing suits and packing...and possibly why men are impossible...
As I said yesterday, after all talk of the Bachelor had subsided (including a sad follow-up conversation on Joe the Millionaire and some other show called My Big Fat Fiance), I now turned to eaves-dropping on the conversation the adjoining stylist was having with her customer. He was an older gentleman, probably pushing 70, maybe even 75. She was desperately trying to explain to him how she wanted to cut his hair, but her references were going over his head. Finally, she looked around and said, "Does anyone remember the name of that old country singer fellow whose last name was Wagoner?" Well listen, I am from Tennessee, and this is the only reason I can think of that I knew. I don't love country music, although I can listen to Vince or Willie or Carrie with no problem. But out of my mouth popped "Porter Wagoner." Well, the stylist jumped for joy. This was the name she was searching for. I felt like killing myself because I would now forever be known as "the lady who knew who Porter Wagoner is"...and THAT IS NOT WHO I AM!" Once again, I have to refer back to a slightly traumatic childhood memory. I cringe as I say this...but the only possible way I could have known that little tidbit of information is because my dad used to watch HeeHaw. In fact, he heehawed at Heehaw. This show was pretty much a variety show version of Dukes of Hazzard.
Let me stress that I could not have been more than 5 or 6 when this show was on, but even at that tender age, I realized that there was something inherently wrong with that humor, and I could never understand my intelligent, sweet, articulate father practically guffawing at this show. ANYWAY, Porter Wagoner often performed on that show, and that painful memory was brought to the forefront...
On with the story...as soon as I say it, the little old man literally glares at me. And then it dawns on me...he KNEW who she was referring to, but he was pretending not to!!! He was hoping I was going to say "Robert Wagoner" or even "Jack Wagoner"...but instead, I backed up her assertion that he would look like Porter. Remember on "Sex and the City" when Charlotte says "In some cultures, heavy women with mustaches are considered beautiful?" and Samantha answers "And you're looking at me while you're saying that?."....same thing. Needless to say, we sat in uncomfortable silence the rest of the time.
One more question to throw out into the universe about the hair salon. Do you ever notice when the young girl (who sweeps up hair) comes around to take the lunch order of the stylists, the price level of the takeout orders are astounding? I mean, nobody is ordering the value meal from McDonald's. They are all getting 3 course meals from the gourmet restaurant next door (where I have only eaten on my anniversary...I'm just saying) I'm sitting there wondering if I'll have enough money left over after the tip to get a coke out of the machine, and they are debating between steak and shrimp.
Of course, as I pay my bill, it all becomes clear. The tip alone is enough to make someone's car payment. And you know what? Good for them. Just the ability to sit there all day and placate all of their customers is a real skill. More power to them. (And maybe I should open a restaurant near by)
So we now exit the hair salon. I'm going to the beach next week, so tomorrow let's talk about bathing suits and packing...and possibly why men are impossible...
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Just Shoot Me Now, 'Cause I Watched the After Show, After Show
All day yesterday I tried to rid myself of all memories of the previous night's viewing of The Bachelor. I worked on a very serious article on hearing loss, studied the elements with my with my son for a science test, and helped my little girl complete her state project on North Dakota. The problem is, I was overwhelmed (and this time I mean it) with responses to yesterday's blog on the show. These responses ranged from criticism of the subject matter (have you really sunk to discussing this?) to strong opinion (how could he dump Melissa?) to funny (it's no different than the World Wrestling..all staged).
So last night, I am watching American Idol with Gabrielle, and feeling quite guilt-free, because obviously as a mother, I have to do this. We have our routine. We sit on the brown couch together and she writes down all of the people that she likes so that I can call in after the show. Unfortunately, every single week she mistakenly writes down the text numbers instead of the phone numbers, and as anyone following this blog knows....that makes it impossible for me to vote.
Everything was going well until halfway through Idol, I get an e-mail from an un-named source telling me that there is an "After the Show, After Show" of the Bachelor coming on at 10:00. This throws me a bit, but I quickly pull out my serious reading in order to put it out of my mind. At 10:00, the kids are in bed and Tony is once again pretending to work on his computer, and as I go to put on the Discovery Channel, I casually check ABC and see our good-natured host Chris Harrison describing the "amazing" show coming up where we get to see how Jason and Molly are doing 6 weeks later...and also get to hear who the new Bachelorette will be. I glance at Tony to get his reaction...and he is actually riveted by Chris's remarks, so I lay down the remote and pretend that we will just have it on in the background.
So what we learn is that Jason and Molly are very happy together, though tormented by America's opinions about the way Jason handled the whole thing. Melissa has turned down a chance to once again humiliate herself by coming on to discuss it. Tony is once again strangely obsessed by the black leather dress that Melissa wore in the final show, somehow finding that reason enough for Jason to go with Molly. I myself am secretly thinking that Jason seems like a pretty decent guy and he and Molly seem genuinely happy and I hope they make it. STOP!... This is how they suck you in!... It is a reality show! I need to get out while I still can....however, I do wait until I hear who the next Bachelorette is. Tony thinks it will be the recently-dumped Melissa, but alas no, it is Jillian, an evidently popular yet eliminated lady whom Jason dumped early on. Now Jillian is lovely and articulate and totally willing to own that this is a "strange way to find love". She also vows that there will be no hot tub scenes, thus earning my immediate respect, but also guaranteeing lower male viewership.
Tony is meanwhile making the vulgar gesture he makes when he finds someone to be a little insincere. He asks "You are going to watch the Bachelorette, aren't you?" Well, I don't know yet. I have a couple of months to make up my mind. If I do, I might not admit to it. But in the words of Forrest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."
Tomorrow I promise to return to tales of the Hair Salon. I have a very disturbing story to tell . The adjoining stylist was cutting the hair of a very sweet older gentleman (pushing 70) and she was trying to explain to him how she was going to cut his hair. She told him he looked like some country dude named Wagoner. She turned to me and asked if I knew who she was talking about. Being from Tennessee, I unfortunately knew...and the little old man obviously did too. What I did not pick up on was the steely glare he was giving me in hopes I would not say it out loud...
But that is a story for another day. so until tomorrow...
So last night, I am watching American Idol with Gabrielle, and feeling quite guilt-free, because obviously as a mother, I have to do this. We have our routine. We sit on the brown couch together and she writes down all of the people that she likes so that I can call in after the show. Unfortunately, every single week she mistakenly writes down the text numbers instead of the phone numbers, and as anyone following this blog knows....that makes it impossible for me to vote.
Everything was going well until halfway through Idol, I get an e-mail from an un-named source telling me that there is an "After the Show, After Show" of the Bachelor coming on at 10:00. This throws me a bit, but I quickly pull out my serious reading in order to put it out of my mind. At 10:00, the kids are in bed and Tony is once again pretending to work on his computer, and as I go to put on the Discovery Channel, I casually check ABC and see our good-natured host Chris Harrison describing the "amazing" show coming up where we get to see how Jason and Molly are doing 6 weeks later...and also get to hear who the new Bachelorette will be. I glance at Tony to get his reaction...and he is actually riveted by Chris's remarks, so I lay down the remote and pretend that we will just have it on in the background.
So what we learn is that Jason and Molly are very happy together, though tormented by America's opinions about the way Jason handled the whole thing. Melissa has turned down a chance to once again humiliate herself by coming on to discuss it. Tony is once again strangely obsessed by the black leather dress that Melissa wore in the final show, somehow finding that reason enough for Jason to go with Molly. I myself am secretly thinking that Jason seems like a pretty decent guy and he and Molly seem genuinely happy and I hope they make it. STOP!... This is how they suck you in!... It is a reality show! I need to get out while I still can....however, I do wait until I hear who the next Bachelorette is. Tony thinks it will be the recently-dumped Melissa, but alas no, it is Jillian, an evidently popular yet eliminated lady whom Jason dumped early on. Now Jillian is lovely and articulate and totally willing to own that this is a "strange way to find love". She also vows that there will be no hot tub scenes, thus earning my immediate respect, but also guaranteeing lower male viewership.
Tony is meanwhile making the vulgar gesture he makes when he finds someone to be a little insincere. He asks "You are going to watch the Bachelorette, aren't you?" Well, I don't know yet. I have a couple of months to make up my mind. If I do, I might not admit to it. But in the words of Forrest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."
Tomorrow I promise to return to tales of the Hair Salon. I have a very disturbing story to tell . The adjoining stylist was cutting the hair of a very sweet older gentleman (pushing 70) and she was trying to explain to him how she was going to cut his hair. She told him he looked like some country dude named Wagoner. She turned to me and asked if I knew who she was talking about. Being from Tennessee, I unfortunately knew...and the little old man obviously did too. What I did not pick up on was the steely glare he was giving me in hopes I would not say it out loud...
But that is a story for another day. so until tomorrow...
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
A Dissertation on the Bachelor (or in the words of Forrest Gump..."I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is".)
Another snow day, no school. I didn't expect this. I even got up and packed book bags and fixed breakfast. Ok, so here we go. I have maybe an hour of good writing time...
I am going to interweave Part 2 from the hair salon with today's subject which has a huge cringe factor. Let me explain. When I sat down in the chair last week, my hair dresser and I (not mentioning her name is out of respect and not fear this time...see previous blog) exchanged hellos and the basic blah, blahs. How are you? What's new? What do you want done? And then we do what we always do...we eavesdrop on the conversations going on around us and discuss whatever sounds interesting. On this particular day, the subject of choice was this year's season of the Bachelor. Now, my hair dresser and I...ok, let's call her Cassidy...we kind of acted above the whole conversation, like, "oh my goodness, You all watch that?" And then as soon as everyone else left our area, we dove in. I admitted that I might have watched the first season, and you know, I think I might have seen the Bachelorette. Cassidy said yeah, she saw those too, and she also might have seen the one with the comedian guy and the football player. Oh yeah, I replied, I might have caught a few episodes of that one, too. Well, 10 minutes later, I think between the two of us, we had covered every season, to our great shame.
After totally dissecting the show and the psychological reason that anyone would voluntarily go on there, we moved to this season. Now, I TRULY have not watched one episode this year, but I kept up with the happenings of bachelor Jason by listening to morning radio on my school drive every Tuesday morning. Jason was the previous bachelor on "The Bachelorette" (the plot thickens) and he was dissed on the finale. The lovely but slightly psycho Deanna, who had been on the PREVIOUS Bachelor, only to be eliminated during the finale, chose some other guy, leaving Jason, who also happens to be a single father, heartbroken and alone.
So this season, Jason, who they claim is "a good guy", romanced and hot-tubbed his way through the season, and it came down to M&M (Molly and Melissa). Now, in the end, he picked Melissa, asked her to marry him, and sent Molly home in tears....Fast-forward to last night, which was 6 weeks later...as Chris, the nice-guy show host said "a truly historical Bachelor"...Jason changed his mind. After spending 6 weeks with the afore-mentioned Melissa, he decided that she was not for him after all, and he was truly in love with Molly. So he brought out Melissa, broke up with her on nationwide television, and then tried to get Molly to take him back.
Now last night, after Jack Bauer had once again saved the world in an hour, I casually flipped over to "The Bachelor...After the Rose" just to see what had happened. I waited for Tony to scream in protest, which he didn't (which meant that he was playing Risk on his computer instead of working, which he often does.) Tony's usual reaction to the Bachelor is "who cares?" or "what a slut". But last night, we both watched in shame while Jason humiliated poor Melissa. Now Tony claims the whole thing was staged, and I have to admit, I'm leaning in that direction too. But nobody on the morning message boards agrees. Everyone seems to think that Jason is now the lowest of low. How dare he admit that he made a mistake? How dare he admit that after only knowing a girl for a few months, most of that time spent on luxury dates and in a hot tub, he just didn't gel with her in real life?
Listen, I don't know Jason, and I agree that it is pretty scummy to play this all out on national television. But don't the girls know it going in? Doesn't it make sense that he falls in love/lust after only a few months, but once they are in the real world with his son, they have to see if it works? I think that was the big elephant in the room last night. He kept saying that "the chemistry changed", but I have a feeling that once the lust had subsided, the dynamic with his son just wasn't right. So now Molly gets her shot. And I have to say from the quick clip they showed of them together with the little boy, she seemed to have more of a "motherly" side. Of course this is a totally unfair assessment based on a two minute clip, so my apologies to Melissa.
Tony's take on all of this? "This guy is such a loser. Cheeseball...What's up with her dress?" I could just tape his comments and replay them every time. I don't think I've ever heard him say "Wow, there's a stand-up guy, and what a lovely girl he's chosen." But that is a subject for another blog...
Ok, kids are up. I still did not finish the hair salon discussion, so tomorrow's installation will be Part 3. And as far as the Bachelor goes, I absolutely promise to NOT watch it next season...
I am going to interweave Part 2 from the hair salon with today's subject which has a huge cringe factor. Let me explain. When I sat down in the chair last week, my hair dresser and I (not mentioning her name is out of respect and not fear this time...see previous blog) exchanged hellos and the basic blah, blahs. How are you? What's new? What do you want done? And then we do what we always do...we eavesdrop on the conversations going on around us and discuss whatever sounds interesting. On this particular day, the subject of choice was this year's season of the Bachelor. Now, my hair dresser and I...ok, let's call her Cassidy...we kind of acted above the whole conversation, like, "oh my goodness, You all watch that?" And then as soon as everyone else left our area, we dove in. I admitted that I might have watched the first season, and you know, I think I might have seen the Bachelorette. Cassidy said yeah, she saw those too, and she also might have seen the one with the comedian guy and the football player. Oh yeah, I replied, I might have caught a few episodes of that one, too. Well, 10 minutes later, I think between the two of us, we had covered every season, to our great shame.
After totally dissecting the show and the psychological reason that anyone would voluntarily go on there, we moved to this season. Now, I TRULY have not watched one episode this year, but I kept up with the happenings of bachelor Jason by listening to morning radio on my school drive every Tuesday morning. Jason was the previous bachelor on "The Bachelorette" (the plot thickens) and he was dissed on the finale. The lovely but slightly psycho Deanna, who had been on the PREVIOUS Bachelor, only to be eliminated during the finale, chose some other guy, leaving Jason, who also happens to be a single father, heartbroken and alone.
So this season, Jason, who they claim is "a good guy", romanced and hot-tubbed his way through the season, and it came down to M&M (Molly and Melissa). Now, in the end, he picked Melissa, asked her to marry him, and sent Molly home in tears....Fast-forward to last night, which was 6 weeks later...as Chris, the nice-guy show host said "a truly historical Bachelor"...Jason changed his mind. After spending 6 weeks with the afore-mentioned Melissa, he decided that she was not for him after all, and he was truly in love with Molly. So he brought out Melissa, broke up with her on nationwide television, and then tried to get Molly to take him back.
Now last night, after Jack Bauer had once again saved the world in an hour, I casually flipped over to "The Bachelor...After the Rose" just to see what had happened. I waited for Tony to scream in protest, which he didn't (which meant that he was playing Risk on his computer instead of working, which he often does.) Tony's usual reaction to the Bachelor is "who cares?" or "what a slut". But last night, we both watched in shame while Jason humiliated poor Melissa. Now Tony claims the whole thing was staged, and I have to admit, I'm leaning in that direction too. But nobody on the morning message boards agrees. Everyone seems to think that Jason is now the lowest of low. How dare he admit that he made a mistake? How dare he admit that after only knowing a girl for a few months, most of that time spent on luxury dates and in a hot tub, he just didn't gel with her in real life?
Listen, I don't know Jason, and I agree that it is pretty scummy to play this all out on national television. But don't the girls know it going in? Doesn't it make sense that he falls in love/lust after only a few months, but once they are in the real world with his son, they have to see if it works? I think that was the big elephant in the room last night. He kept saying that "the chemistry changed", but I have a feeling that once the lust had subsided, the dynamic with his son just wasn't right. So now Molly gets her shot. And I have to say from the quick clip they showed of them together with the little boy, she seemed to have more of a "motherly" side. Of course this is a totally unfair assessment based on a two minute clip, so my apologies to Melissa.
Tony's take on all of this? "This guy is such a loser. Cheeseball...What's up with her dress?" I could just tape his comments and replay them every time. I don't think I've ever heard him say "Wow, there's a stand-up guy, and what a lovely girl he's chosen." But that is a subject for another blog...
Ok, kids are up. I still did not finish the hair salon discussion, so tomorrow's installation will be Part 3. And as far as the Bachelor goes, I absolutely promise to NOT watch it next season...
Monday, March 2, 2009
Random Musings on the Weekend
This morning I was meant to be discussing the deep and significant discussions that took place in the hair salon last week. This will have to wait until tomorrow (sorry, I can just hear the sighs of disappointment) because we had 6 inches of snow yesterday and the kids and hubby are home this morning making it nearly impossible to focus.
We were forecasted to have a little snow yesterday, but in Georgia, one doesn't really take this seriously. Of course the really funny thing is here that as soon as the weather man even mentions the word "snow", the grocery stores are bombarded with hoards of people stocking up on bread and milk. Since I spent many of my early years in Indiana, this whole "stock up" theory strikes me as really funny. Now I understand that they are not equipped here to deal with snow, and so even an inch or two creates a bit of danger and throws a wrench in all facets of daily life, but I've always wondered...why milk and bread". Is there some meal I don't know of that consists of just milk and bread? Or do people just have toast and milk? I could understand hot chocolate or snack stuff, but no, I guarantee you if I go to the store right now, there will be no milk or bread to be found. Very strange.
The snow is very pretty, but I have to admit that I don't get the warm, fuzzy feeling that most people here (especially my kids) get from seeing snow. As you may have noticed, many things that happen to me bring up vaguely traumatic (that may be too strong of a word) memories from my childhood. Snow is no different. When I lived in Indianapolis, snow was a common occurence. Nothing changed or was cancelled when it snowed, otherwise you'd just sit out winter all together. We lived at the bottom of a very steep hill, so when it snowed, I would literally have to throw my books (and these were the pre-book bag days) across a driveway, then crawl across the ice, pick up all of the books, and trudge to the next driveway. Just the trip up the hill took about 20 minutes, and you can imagine the shape I was in when I actually reached the bus stop. When I tell this story to my kids, they miss the whole point and go off on a tangent of "exactly why didn't you have a book bag?" My husband, being from New Jersey, murmurs words like "lightweight" and "wimp", giving no credence at all to my traumatic story.
The kids had a blast in the snow, but again, the problem here is that since it is a rare occurence, we don't have proper snow attire. In Indiana, you put on your waterproof gear and play out all day. Here, you wear your jeans and tennis shoes until they are soaked (about 30 minutes) and then you go inside and change again. My laundry room is full of sopping wet clothes this morning, which I will dry and re-dry over the course of the day.
On top of that, our power was out for several hours last night, forcing us all to sit around the fireplace and be cozy, singing Cum-bah-yah. Ok, maybe not. Maybe the kids whined about the tv not working and ran around screaming and playing tag until Tony had to yell at them to go to their room. When the power came back on for 2 minutes, I decided to run on the treadmill, not thinking through the fact that it might cut off again, thus throwing me several yards off of the machine. This only exacerbated my earlier sledding injury that I received when Tony assured me that a hill was not too steep and then proceeded to push me down. Not only was the hill too steep, but the asphalt at the bottom was very hard.
But despite these little mishaps, it was still a fun day. The "guilty mother voice", (you know that annoying voice that tells you to let the kids have fun and don't worry about the mound of laundry and wet floors, etc) kicked in early in the day, so I was able to relax and watch the kids have fun.
Just as a side note, early in the day, before the roads were too bad, Tony ran out and brought back burgers and fries. He also slipped me an apple pie, which I love. However, at 12:20 last night, I realized that I had given up sweets for Lent and had broken my vow after only 3 days. When I shared this with Tony, he said "yes, and I now have something to hold over you". I'm not at all sure that this is keeping with the spirit of Lent. And besides that, I refused to be blackmailed, so I am owning up to my minor "slip" right now, so that he cannot "out" me later on it...
Back to the salon tomorrow...
We were forecasted to have a little snow yesterday, but in Georgia, one doesn't really take this seriously. Of course the really funny thing is here that as soon as the weather man even mentions the word "snow", the grocery stores are bombarded with hoards of people stocking up on bread and milk. Since I spent many of my early years in Indiana, this whole "stock up" theory strikes me as really funny. Now I understand that they are not equipped here to deal with snow, and so even an inch or two creates a bit of danger and throws a wrench in all facets of daily life, but I've always wondered...why milk and bread". Is there some meal I don't know of that consists of just milk and bread? Or do people just have toast and milk? I could understand hot chocolate or snack stuff, but no, I guarantee you if I go to the store right now, there will be no milk or bread to be found. Very strange.
The snow is very pretty, but I have to admit that I don't get the warm, fuzzy feeling that most people here (especially my kids) get from seeing snow. As you may have noticed, many things that happen to me bring up vaguely traumatic (that may be too strong of a word) memories from my childhood. Snow is no different. When I lived in Indianapolis, snow was a common occurence. Nothing changed or was cancelled when it snowed, otherwise you'd just sit out winter all together. We lived at the bottom of a very steep hill, so when it snowed, I would literally have to throw my books (and these were the pre-book bag days) across a driveway, then crawl across the ice, pick up all of the books, and trudge to the next driveway. Just the trip up the hill took about 20 minutes, and you can imagine the shape I was in when I actually reached the bus stop. When I tell this story to my kids, they miss the whole point and go off on a tangent of "exactly why didn't you have a book bag?" My husband, being from New Jersey, murmurs words like "lightweight" and "wimp", giving no credence at all to my traumatic story.
The kids had a blast in the snow, but again, the problem here is that since it is a rare occurence, we don't have proper snow attire. In Indiana, you put on your waterproof gear and play out all day. Here, you wear your jeans and tennis shoes until they are soaked (about 30 minutes) and then you go inside and change again. My laundry room is full of sopping wet clothes this morning, which I will dry and re-dry over the course of the day.
On top of that, our power was out for several hours last night, forcing us all to sit around the fireplace and be cozy, singing Cum-bah-yah. Ok, maybe not. Maybe the kids whined about the tv not working and ran around screaming and playing tag until Tony had to yell at them to go to their room. When the power came back on for 2 minutes, I decided to run on the treadmill, not thinking through the fact that it might cut off again, thus throwing me several yards off of the machine. This only exacerbated my earlier sledding injury that I received when Tony assured me that a hill was not too steep and then proceeded to push me down. Not only was the hill too steep, but the asphalt at the bottom was very hard.
But despite these little mishaps, it was still a fun day. The "guilty mother voice", (you know that annoying voice that tells you to let the kids have fun and don't worry about the mound of laundry and wet floors, etc) kicked in early in the day, so I was able to relax and watch the kids have fun.
Just as a side note, early in the day, before the roads were too bad, Tony ran out and brought back burgers and fries. He also slipped me an apple pie, which I love. However, at 12:20 last night, I realized that I had given up sweets for Lent and had broken my vow after only 3 days. When I shared this with Tony, he said "yes, and I now have something to hold over you". I'm not at all sure that this is keeping with the spirit of Lent. And besides that, I refused to be blackmailed, so I am owning up to my minor "slip" right now, so that he cannot "out" me later on it...
Back to the salon tomorrow...
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