communication

I was lying in bed last night listening to the crickets who finally got a chance to chirp since Raccoon Fight Club has relocated and I remembered this:

https://www.facebook.com/soulseekers.worldwide/videos/1810889285894025/

This is something you have to listen to! In 1992 Jim Wilson got the idea to slow down a recording of chirping crickets. He referred to the revealed sound as “Gods cricket chorus”. They sing in perfect harmony to each other. How does that happen?

It’s gorgeous and mind-blowing and better than…a frog chorus.

Quick cricket story (of course). Back in the day, in one of my apartments, during the summer the crickets would find their way inside and chirp all night long. It wasn’t slowed down to an angelic sounding chorus—it was simply annoying. I couldn’t escort them back outside like I did with the spiders and daddy-long-legs because they hid from me. As hard as I tried I just couldn’t find them.

So like the bitch says above—my idleness, laziness and the desire to save myself the trouble of moving necessitated being inventive.

Bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, I got a bright idea. For three nights in a row, I decided to have a chat with them, a cricket “Come to Jesus” so to speak. I walked around and politely asked them to be quiet, explaining my need to sleep at night and giving them permission to chirp their little hearts out during the day while I was at work.

Night one: A full chorus. Nobody felt like not chirping. As a matter of fact, I think they invited friends.

Night two: A little better. They must have started after I went to sleep because when I got up to pee—it was full Woodstock.

Night three: Silence. Nothing. Crickets. (I just cracked myself up.)

The things that nature hides from us are astonishing.

Carry on,
xox

ul·ti·ma·tum
ˌəltəˈmādəm/
noun: ultimatum; plural noun: ultimata; plural noun: ultimatums
1. a final demand or statement of terms, the rejection of which will result in retaliation or a breakdown in relation — final offer, final demand, take-it-or-leave-it deal; threat

Recently, I was asked to write some examples for the Huffington Post on a story they were doing on ultimatums.

Oh, that’s an easy one, I thought, I’m the Queen of Ultimatums, but upon reflection I realize I was the Queen-of-Setting-Boundaries, not delivering ultimatums.

Boundaries define your borders. Ultimatums are final. They have lasting consequences.
Big difference.

In my world, communication begins when you cross my imaginary line in the sand. When my boundary is breeched—detente begins.

For example, when my husband is out on a motorcycle without me, he is required, as set by the rules of our marriage and basic common decency, to let me know when he’s off the bike for the day. Even though I’m not a big worrier, that is the moment I can take a deep breath and relax knowing he’s safe and sound, his ass on a bar stool somewhere in the world.
Recently, when I hadn’t heard from him due to a text malfunction—he had some splainin’ to do.

Communication starts when a boundary is crossed.

Ultimatums, on the other hand, are where the talking stops.

Men love that. “I love a good ultimatum”, said NO man—EVER.

Or woman for that matter.

It smells like take-it-or-leave-it. I hate choices like that. Don’t you?

That being said…there was one ultimatum I did level at my husband right after we got engaged and here’s why.
Soon after we met we decided on full disclosure, you know, who had the higher FICO score, how our astrological charts lined up, showing each other old passport photos and admitting that we had each maintained a platonic friendship with a significant other. Once it was out in the open it was no big, hairy, deal and neither of us felt the least bit threatened, but when my husband went to tell his ex of our engagement, he chickened out.
“It was gonna get emotional”, he explained.
“Tough shit” I replied. “And if you care more about hurting her feelings than you do mine—you guys aren’t over each other yet and this engagement is off.”

He immediately picked up the phone, arranged another meeting and told her the next day.

Was that a threat? You bet your ass it was.

…And that concludes today’s essay on the difference between a boundary and an ultimatum.

Carry on,
xox

How many of you are blamers? Or married to a blame? Or were raised by a major blamer?
Show of hands, please. Uh-huh, I thought so.

I had a boss for almost twenty years who was a blamer and it drove. me. nuts. He was a shamer too. I’m convinced blame and shame are siamese twins, but that’s just me. Let’s see what the expert, Brene Brown has to say about blame in this short, funny and insightful video.

As for me? I’m not a blamer, I’m an “I told you so-er”.
I have to bite my tongue not to say in some way, shape or form, “I told you so” to my husband like, forty-five thousand times a day.
Seriously.
Like today. He saved all of his outdoor tasks for this morning. The morning we were ALL warned that El Nino was going to hit us like well, like a big, fat, super soggy storm full of really wet rain.

And like the shining example of good wifery that I am, I reminded said husband of his shitty decision making,choices, —timing, before I left for the gym and it was only drizzling.

But alas, he waited until the REAL rain hit to empty the dog poop can into the main garbage bin, get the dead Christmas tree out to the curb for pick-up, and fiddle (fix in man-speak), with the sump-pump (all of which we talked about just yesterday), and then sent me a text and left evidence (wet pants in the shower), of how soaked he got. (Who is surprised here? What woman is the least bit surprised by this?)

See how I did that? Never once did you hear me say I told you so. I wanted to. So very, very, badly.
My tongue has permanent grooves.

Listen, I don’t want to tell Brene how to run her social media, but I think that needs to be her next video.

The seemingly repressed but clearly expressed I told you so.

What do you guys think? (That’s for you, Jim)

Love, soggy in Studio City
Carry on,
xox