advice

Hahahaha. Snort-laugh! I swiped this from a friend of mine and a reader of this page (thanks, Ernie!).

It almost caused a stream of coffee to shoot out of my nose like a fire hose because, well, because…it reminded me of that bad habit I have of offering unsolicited advice and how it has bit me in the ass.

It also reminded me of braking suddenly (Hypothetical Situation Alert), for a decision impaired squirrel who was standing upright in the middle of the street with a peanut in his mouth (pure fiction), which may or may not have been the cause of the car who was following too close behind me to swerve up and onto the curb.

It also, also, reminded me of a blog post from last year on this very subject which explains my predicament addiction and its consequences.

Is this a reprise you ask?
Why yes, yes it is.
But don’t blame me it was prompted by a funny meme, a snort-laugh, a squirrel, and nose coffee.

Happy Saturday & Carry on,
xox

ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER BAD HABIT

Bad habit #319 – I offer unsolicited advice.

I know! It sucks—big time.
I’m working on it, but sometimes I can’t seem to help myself.
I write a freakin’ advice blog for God sakes!

It’s a very masculine trait, problem-solving, one of the last remaining vestiges of working in a male dominated career and making it a priority to develop only the male side of my personality.
But enough of that, that’s a huge generalization and an exercise in stereotyping. If I try to reverse engineer how I became this way…well…
…I’m the eldest of three, and the younger kids would often need my help with…stop it, Janet!
Enough!

You see, if presented with a dilemma I will chew on that bone, sucking out the very marrow of it until I’ve come up with a plan.
Make that three plans.
Usually, a Plan A which is the best, (of course), to Plan C which I recommend only as a last resort.

From directions in the car—to what to order at my favorite bistro—to how to dump the chump, if you seem…uncertain—I’m your girl.

But you see, that’s the thing. I haven’t paid enough attention, or taken the time (a minute and a half), to distinguish what’s going on with you.

Is that look on your face the I’m working this out, I’ve got this look? Or, are you lost in a fog of uncertainty only wishing I would open my mouth and help you out? (No one has ever gotten that far so we’ll just have to imagine that one.)

Or this, right out of left field—maybe you’re just making conversation!

It’s a subtle difference (not really), and once I started to observe THE MASTER—I understood, and I decided to take a page out his play-book.

My husband has developed a sort of super power.

It was acquired and has been honed after years of having his head bitten off.
Like an exasperated praying mantis after yet another beheading, he started to pay closer attention. He learned how to read me and slowly but surely he has become the Master of Silent Advice.

Now you may be wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

He has mastered the skill of silence. Not indifference, make no mistake—the two can be easily confused and he’s lost his head a few times over that one too.

No, in the fifteen years we’ve been together he’s had the opportunity to be able to observe me closely when certain situations have presented themselves and then he listens —waiting—because honestly, whether I’ve got things covered or I’m lost in the fog—I look the same.
Like a freaking deer in the headlights.

You see, it’s a nuance thing.

And here’s the key, the Golden Ticket so to speak:
He only extends me a hand or offers me advice—when I ask him.

What?
If you wait, someone will ask you?
What a concept, that is genius!

So if you’re around me these days you may notice a strange look on my face as you tell me about your day. Oh God, don’t mistake it for disinterest—I’m literally biting my tongue…listening.

Waiting for you to ask me what I think.

You’re gonna ask soon—right?

Because I’ve got this.

Plan A is genius (if I do say so myself, humility is my next hurdle).

So ask me already!

Being aware you have a problem is the first step…right?

Carry on,
With big, big love and buckets of gratitude for putting up with me,

Xox

Bad habit #319 – I offer unsolicited advice.

I know! It sucks—big time.
I’m working on it, but sometimes I can’t seem to help myself.
I write a freakin’ advice blog for God sakes!

It’s a very masculine trait, problem solving, one of the last remaining vestiges of working in a male dominated career and making it a priority to develop only the male side of my personality.
But enough of that, that’s a huge generalization and an exercise in stereotyping. If I try to reverse engineer how I became this way…well…
…I’m the eldest of three, and the younger kids would often need my help with…stop it Janet!
Enough!

You see, if presented with a dilemma I will chew on that bone, sucking out the very marrow of it until I’ve come up with a plan.
Make that three plans.
Usually a Plan A which is the best, (of course), to Plan C which I recommend only as a last resort.

From directions in the car—to what to order at my favorite bistro—to how to dump the chump, if you seem…uncertain—I’m your girl.

But you see, that’s the thing. I haven’t paid enough attention, or taken the time (a minute and a half), to distinguish what’s going on with you.

Is that look on your face the I’m working this out, I’ve got this look? Or, are you lost in a fog of uncertainty only wishing I would open my mouth and help you out? (No one has ever gotten that far so we’ll just have to imagine that one.)

Or this, right out of left field—maybe you’re just making conversation!

It’s a subtle difference (not really), and once I started to observe THE MASTER—I understood, and I decided to take a page out his play book.

My husband has developed a sort of super power.

It was acquired and has been honed after years of having his head bitten off.
Like an exasperated praying mantis after yet another beheading, he started to pay closer attention. He learned how to read me and slowly but surely he has become the Master of Silent Advice.

Now you may be wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

He has mastered the skill of silence. Not indifference, make no mistake—the two can be easily confused and he’s lost his head a few times over that one too.

No, he’s observed me closely when certain situations have presented themselves in the fifteen years we’ve been together and he listens; waiting for just the right moment, because honestly, whether I’ve got things covered or I’m lost in the fog—I look the same.

It’s a nuance thing.

And here’s key, the Golden Ticket so to speak:
He only extends me a hand or offers me advice—when I ask him.

What?
If you wait, someone will ask you?
What a concept, that is genius!

So if you’re around me these days you may notice a strange look on my face as you tell me about your day. Oh God, don’t mistake it for disinterest—I’m literally biting my tongue…listening.

Waiting for you to ask me what I think.

You’re gonna ask soon—right?

Because I’ve got this.

Plan A is genius (if I do say so myself, humility is my next hurdle).

So ask me already!

Being aware you have a problem is the first step…right?

Carry on,
With big, big love and buckets of gratitude for putting up with me,

Xox

You know that phenomenon that occurs when you spill red wine? How it is attracted to anything residing in the white color palette?

And even though it was only half a glass (okay maybe 3/4 of a glass – it was shitty day) the spillage appears to be more like an entire bottle and requires four rolls of paper towels to clean up.

You familiar with that scenario?

One glass of wine that has now ruined:
1) Your new silk and linen blend light beige pants that you’re wearing for the first time.

2) The white flokati rug that has the nerve to sit under your friend’s coffee table. (Who has white rugs?)

3) Your reputation as someone who can balance a glass of wine, a cocktail napkin, eat some kind of tartlet stuffed with cheesy goodness — and tell a funny story, without spilling a single drop.

What about a drop of black dye in a cup of water?
It swirls and undulates, acting as if it’s alive as it permeates every molecule.

Until in a matter of seconds it appears as if by magic that the entire contents of the cup had turned the color of midnight.

A single drop.
An entire glass.
Saturation.

When I wake up in the mornings, even before I get out of bed, I practice gratitude.

I’m thankful that I had the good fortune to wake up, that I can smell coffee in the other room, and that I don’t have to be woken up by the shrill ringing of an alarm.

I do that to get myself into a good feeling place. To keep my imaginary glass of water clear. It makes for a smoother, better day all around.

Most days I can stay there on pretty solid footing.

Other days I can’t make it to the bathroom without the spilled wine worries invading my thoughts; staining everything I think.

Recently, it seems as if black ink has been saturating me right as I come to consciousness. I think one nice thought and I get hijacked. BLAMO!

Black ink in the form of a troubling thought is swirling in my head as I try to find my balance; it’s reminding me of something awful, making gratitude the boulder I’m now struggling to push up the mountain of my mind.

If it takes hold I’m screwed. Covers over the head, might as well go back to sleep and reset, kind of screwed.

You all know how that goes. Once the wine or the ink stains your brain, once it permeates the entire glass of water, it is such an effort to escape –– it can ruin a whole day.

Then I remembered what my husband told me he was doing. Instead of letting an awful thought take hold and then attempting to play catch-up all day; he just kept his gratitude driven thinking going 24/7.

It took work but he was up to the challenge. The alternative was unacceptable –– it felt like hell.

“You can’t process thoughts from opposite parts of the brain at the same time.” He reminded me. “It’s impossible! Try being sad and grateful at the same time. Or happy and anxious. Love or hate. You just can’t do it. So I just drive around these days, ALL day –– feeling appreciation and gratitude. It keeps my thoughts from going dark”

He was right! (Damn, I hate when he’s right – insert forehead slap here) but what he’s doing is SO much easier than trying to turn your emotional ship around after its run aground.

You have the choice to pick a better thought. You do. I challenge you to try it.

Don’t get me wrong, some days are going to be a fight.
A fucking fist fight street brawl.

It will feel like using a tweezers and a magnifying glass to look for a needle of happiness inside of a haystack of sad.

But don’t give up. I know you; you won’t. You’re scrappy like me.

Feeling grateful, or something above despair, even in the shit times, is like those drops they give you to take to the Amazon to clear the water of all those swimming amoebas that’ll kill ya.

You swirl it around for a couple of minutes and viola! Your cup is full of crystal clear drinking water.

Let gratitude clear your glass of water. If gratitude is too far of a reach try a happy place moment.

I go to a beach on Maui on a seventy-two degree day, with zero wind, perfect rolling waves, warm water and my twenty-five year old body…sadness, at a least for a few minutes – out of sight, out of mind.

It’s a start, and SO much better than an entire day of feeling bad.

That’s all.

Carry on,
xox