humor

RESILIENT
re·sil·ient
adjective
(of a substance or object) able to recoil or spring back into shape after bending, stretching, or being compressed.
synonyms: flexible, pliable, supple

The world around us is moving at a breakneck pace. It’s becoming a colossal challenge to stay current; to keep up.

It seemed like, in the “good old days”, you could count on the solid footing that the status quo provided.
Those days are gone for good, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Many, many of the changes are for the better.

I just get nostalgic for some of the things that have gone the way of the rotary phone and Drive In movies.

I remember my dad grumbling under his breath, about the price of gas during the 1970’s gas crisis, when it had the audacity to hedge closer and closer to the one dollar a gallon marker. He was crestfallen when suddenly there was no attendant to check his oil and tire pressure and wash his windshield.
Shit, he even had to pump his OWN GAS!

It was hard for me to understand his consternation, hey, this was progress, after all.

But now I totally get it.
For the life of him, he could have never imagined something that had been 17 cents a gallon his whole life, would EVER cost him a dollar.
Un fathomable.

What about the days when we had one, MAYBE two telephones, connected by wires TO. THE. WALL. in our homes. You had to stand in one place while you held a conversation, and sometimes (gasp) it just rang and rang, with no answer machine to take a message.

Deep philosophical question alert: If a phone rings (in the forrest) and no one answers, and no message is left….. did the call actually occur?

However did we manage to live life?

My girlfriend and I were lamenting the fact that we aren’t ever alone anymore.
Like an ever present stalker, our cell phones lurk nearby, keeping us connected to the world, whether we want to be….or not.
Try unplugging for a day. It is harder to kick than crack cocaine.

I for one, do appreciate all the new technological advances in the last twenty years.
I love laser printers, smart phone cameras, texting, fax machines, email, my iPad, the ability to buy virtually ANYTHING from my bed, in my pajamas, at 2:30 in the morning.
I have worked hard at becoming resilient to change.

But here’s the thing. I need to mourn some of my favorite things that have been lost along the way.

I miss the Borders Bookstore on La Cienega. I loved being a single loser and losing myself with all the other single losers on Saturday nights.
We would purchase our pre-requisite coffees at the coffee counter,(which were pretty descent) and proceed to roam the self help aisle. I’d eventually make my way to the music section (that was the cool thing, they had a music section) where the cute hipster guys hung out.
Then, as I left, I’d grab a People, Vogue, and Allure magazine from their incredibly comprehensive magazine WALL.
If I felt sophisticated, or was trying to impress someone nearby, I’d add an Italian Vogue…….Ciao Borders.

I miss the neighborhood bookstores. I miss the smell. I miss Borders. I’m going to mourn it before I order from Amazon again. ( which will probably be in the next twelve minutes.)

Both my beloved high school and the place I worked for close to twenty years cease to exist. They were both destroyed by God. My high school by the 1994 earthquake and Antiquarius Antiques was burned down about six years ago.

*The former entrance to my beloved Alemany High School

Whenever I drive by either of those sites, where I lived out large chucks of my life; I feel slightly melancholy.
In my minds eye I can still picture how they USED to look.
Current reality is very different. One is a perpetual construction site and the other is just ruins inside a chain link fence.
They reconstructed the school across the street. It’s lovely…..meh.

I like to think I’m flexible, pliable, and supple (what?) to change, and I can be.
But what I think we all need to do (because I know I need to), as the world continues to whizz past us, is take a minute and mourn the loss of the things we loved that have gone bye-bye.

That will keep us stretchy and resilient.

okay, your turn. What are the places or things that have left in the name of progress? What do you need to mourn?
Tell me about them below.

xox

We both noticed it. My husband and I.

There was one lonely sheet of double ply Brawny paper towel on the butcher block in the center of the kitchen, when we got up this morning.
I thought it was left over from some boxer-shark puppy calamity that he’d cleaned up, and I’m sure he thought the same.

Neither was true.

It just laid there, like a blank slate, ready for a mess.

Five minutes later when he was bringing me my coffee, (cue the sappy music and the Husband of the Year Award) it sloshed up and over the side of the cup, leaving a little trail to the TV room, where I sit in the morning, posting this blog.
Now the handy dandy paper towel that was nearby, primed and ready, waiting for a spill, was finally put to use.

Often, the Universe leaves us clues of what’s to come.

The other day, I noticed a rogue Band Aid on the bathroom counter. 
Hmmmmm. How’d THAT get there?
It came in handy when my groovy shoes gave me blisters from hell later that afternoon.

I love the concept that the Universe, like a helicopter parent, is waiting there with a Kleenex before we even sneeze.

I, for one, welcome the help.

I can think of SO many of these. Can you?

You’ve probably never tried.

Do it! 
It’s fun. Close your eyes and think a minute about the little clues that you’ve received, out of the blue.
When has the Universe placed something right in your path that was exactly what you needed. You probably won’t have to think long, these things tend to make an impression.

Tell me, I’d love to hear your story!

Xox

Even though my neck is developing a waddle, my arms are jiggly, and my bra size is a 36 long, I’m FAR from dead.

I feel great, look pretty darn good for my age, and I want to just give life a big slap on the ass for providing such incomparable entertainment, (because we all came here to be entertained, right?)

Here’s to fifty and beyond!

1) No more zits. That’s huge for me. I literally had chin acne up until five minutes ago.

2) More free time because of reduced mirror time.
I can’t really see anymore but I’ve decided that using the magnifying mirror is masochistic, so, if I have an occasional chin hair or stray lipstick creeping into the creases above my lip line, cut me some slack.
While I used to relish getting ready in the morning, these days the routine ends with me throwing my arms up saying: “Okay, f*ck it! This is as good as it gets.”

3) My BS meter is finely tuned,
I can smell a “phony baloney story” a mile away.

4) I BE WISE.
Not necessarily smart, more like crafty and clever.
I may not have a ton of what some would call common sense, or be very tech savvy,
but I have a keen street sense. In other words, “I be wise in the ways of the world.“

5) People expect less of me because my hair is gray and I often wear more sensible shoes (idiots) so when I get off the back of the motorcycle or I’m funny or say something current, they’re like, “Damn!”

6) My bucket list is getting shorter —and it seems suddenly attainable. Bo Shizzle!

7) I have felt all different kinds of love (except for a child…next life.)
But I DO know the difference between dog love and cat love, teenage crush, misguided 20 something love, sibling love, infatuation (not to be confused with love), lust (also not to be mistaken, under ANY circumstances for love), “I love you, but I’m not in love with you, love”, platonic love, love of country (don’t wince, travel; then come talk to me) And last but certainly not least—Self-love.

8) I give less F*cks.
I have so few left, why waste them? My inhibitions are almost non-existent. I offer my opinion, I don’t shy away from conflict, I’ll sing first at karaoke night and I’ll dance in Greek restaurants.
There’s not much that scares me anymore, much to the horror of my introverted spouse.

9) I stopped asking why. It was just SO exhausting. I wish I’d stopped decades ago.

10) I realize that I may have more years behind me than in front of me, and that doesn’t make me sad (most days)—on the contrary, it mobilizes me.
Listen, times a-wastin’!

Okay, you over fiftys! What can you add?
If you haven’t reached fifty yet, what are you looking forward to?

Xox

*Nope, that’s not an anaconda, that’s just a small portion of the root ball that came out of the drain….damn.

We’ve had a drain blockage in the backyard for…….ever.

It worked like a charm for the first seven years and then these last three years it’s been slowwwwwwwwing down, until this past month, when I did my spring power wash,(which I love to do, BTW, I love instant gratification!) the water never drained.
It just collected and sat there like a little lagoon.
It created its own Eco-system. Wildlife started to gather at dusk and dawn.

Never one to put the kabosh on the yard self-landscaping, ( it often has better ideas that any of us), a lagoon so close to the bar-b-que was less than desirable.
And we needed a functioning drain on the patio.

At the same time the guys were working on clearing and re-routing the drain today, the cable guy showed up.

It was a miracle of sorts, because the wait time window was reasonable, (11-12) and he actually showed up inside that window.

Our cable signal gets wonky every year and a half or so, because the squirrels decide to chew, floss and jump rope with our Time Warner cable line.
So up the pole the cable guy goes, to splice and dice the line, and leave a cease and desist notice for the squirrels.

The astrology lately has been about re-visiting blockages and seeking clarity.

I know it to be true, because Tosha Silver says it’s so, along with a thousand others.

So….(wiping hands together) done, and done!

We killed two birds with one stone today.
Well, it may have been two stones, and no birds died today, although I did have my eye on some squirrels…..but you get the picture.

We cleared the signal AND the blockage.

As above; so below.

Metaphorically speaking; I feel SO much better.

*I must admit; I do miss the lagoon.

Have you recently cleared something up that’s been blocked? Have you noticed a difference in how you feel?
I’d LOVE to hear about it.

Xox

This is a reprise of a popular post from earlier this year. It’s a cautionary tale in the form of a poem, about that rascal Ego. Have a great Sunday!

XoxJanet

When Ego whispers in your ear,
“Psssst buddy, come on over here.”
Quick; turn and run the other way,
’cause he’s got nothing good to say.

He’s not a chum, he’s not your friend,
His words won’t have a happy end.
He’s only got himself in mind,
A more selfish dude you’ll never find.

What ego thinks is a good idea,
Will fill you later with dread and fear.
You don’t want hear what he has to say,
Just tell him nice, to go away

The Ego has a strangle hold,
on those who do what they are told.
He has sold his bill of goods,
by selling “wants” and “needs” and “shoulds”.

It just won’t play, it won’t suffice,
when heeding Ego’s bad advise.
To say you’re “feeling” anything,
To this bad guy, the head is king.

His dictums are complex and sly,
You must beware if you comply,
he’ll lead you down the garden path,
then laugh as you suffer bad choice’s wrath.

He has an agenda all his own,
his methods are proven, his skills well honed.
You needn’t curse, don’t waste a good cry,
he’s doesn’t care, he’s not that guy.

You can try to beat him at his game,
Living with soul can end his reign.
It won’t seem fair,
He isn’t nice, plus….

The Ego gives really shitty advise.

Try This!

I did lots of crazy shit back in the day.
I held crystal classes at my house and Sunday’s, once a month at my duplex I’d have someone in each room with a different spiritual expertise. You could get your tarot cards read, a reiki treatment, or an astrology reading.
Some people got the whole shebang.

It was pot luck, with an old bookshelf in the living room that held all of my self-help and spiritual books. Hundreds of them. Remember, I’m a seeker.

The agreement was: you could take one if you brought one to trade, although I never held anyone to it if they REALLY wanted a book, without the trade.
Bad karma.

One of the many hundreds of classes and seminars I took was a left hand writing class to help develop intuition.

Here’s a simple, fun, and effective exercise to try:

With your dominant hand, write out the this phrase on a piece of paper ( no typing allowed)

If I were an animal, what animal would I be?

Close your eyes for a sec, take a breath, and write your answer with the same hand.

Now put the pen the other, non-dominant hand, look at the question, close your eyes again for a few seconds and scrawl your answer with your two and half-year old writing. Don’t worry about it, very few people can write legibly with both hands.

I bet the answers are different.

Your dominant hand (doesn’t matter if it’s right or left) is tied to the rational, everyday mind. The one that helps you function in the world. It keeps you “normal” and preserves the status quo.

Most people write down horse, dog or cat. That’s okay. These animal have qualities to which you aspire. How you would like to see yourself in the world.

Your non-dominant hand is so much more interesting.
It gets in touch with your intuitive, creative subconscious. We don’t ask it to speak up very often, if at all, so it can get pretty chatty if you let it. But for the purpose of this exercise, keep focused on the question.

The answer from your non-dominant hand is how your REALLY see yourself. The character traits you truly process.

With my right hand I wrote: cat. Aloof, finicky, regal.
That’s what I aspire to.

With my left hand I got spider. (What!?) makes a beautiful environment wherever it goes, creative, lives on the FLY (badam bum).

I LOVE this answer. It’s so much more ME.

What did I tell ya? Much more interesting.

This was the gateway exercise from the course I took to help me access my intuition. I started asking questions like a madman. I was obsessed.

You should try it. Ask: What do I need to know? Or
What should I do about ______?

Anything really.

Like I said, although it’s tough to read at times, it can be pretty chatty, funny and sometimes it rhymes.

Try the animal exercise first. Then tell me what you got.
I’d love to hear about it!
No judging, I promise.

Xox

“When you learn, teach. When you get, give”
~Maya Angelou

I couldn’t let the day pass without paying homage to the Mother Earth, Goddess, poet, teacher, Maya Angelou.

They are paying tribute, as well they should, on all the media outlets today.
In the car on NPR this morning, I heard a hysterical story, told in her own deep, melodic voice, about waiting in an airport bar for her mother to arrive, and it made me tear up.
You could hear in her voice that the story tickled her.
Ah……that voice. Unmistakable. A real gift to her poetry, and the world.

I remember reading I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings when I was about fifteen or sixteen. It resonated not because I was a young black girl growing up in the Deep South, because that could not have been further from the truth, but because it spoke of freedom and self expression, two things I was desperately seeking in those days.

I just went to look at my dog eared, water stained copy and alas, I must have leant it to a friend.
Damn me and my book lending!

I collect quotes, as demonstrated by the Quotes page on this
blog.
Every wise thing ever said, I tend to attribute to Maya Angelou.

I had a friend (who has since passed) who knew the source of
pretty much every quote. She would joke that if she did get stumped, she’d attribute them to either Mark Twain or Maya Angelou and people wouldn’t blink.

The quote at the top about teaching, is one that comes to mind often, and it gave me permission to start the women’s group. When you learn, teach.
Thank you Maya Angelou.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
This one gave me permission to write this blog, so you have Maya Angelou to thank….or blame.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
One of my spiritual teachers would remind me, that when we die, we watch a movie style life review. There is no sound, just feeling. We have to re-live how we made others feel in every interaction of our life.
That’s some sobering shit, huh?

“You are enough.”
This one’s like a haiku. Enough said.

“When someone tells you or shows you who they are; believe them the first time.”
OMG. This was my mantra in the dating world. I should have had that tattooed to my forehead. (Thank God I re-thought that.)
I was a serial benifitofthedoubt giver. But I eventually learned. When a cute guy, at a party, drink in hand, would ask me out and then quip “I’m not really the monogamous type, or I’m a bad boy, or you’re really not my type”, I learned, from this quote, to run for the hills.

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”
This quote is why I’m married. At forty two, love was so freakin tired from the decathlon that my hope was putting it through, it walked through a wall, and delivered to me….my husband. Whew!

Here are some of my other favorite pearls of wisdom from that greatest of life’s teachers, Maya Angelou:

“If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.”

“If you have only one smile in you, give it to the people you love.”

“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.”

“One isn’t necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential.
Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.”

”I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.”

I’ll end with this one. So wise, so profound and so true.

“My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return.”

God’s speed Maya (may I call you Maya?)

Xox

Show of hands, How many of you are doing something else while you’re trying to read this?

The operative word being: TRYING.

Are you talking on the phone? Eating? Tying Timmy’s shoe? Texting? I only ask, because I’m one of you. We are the chronically overextended. The magicians of mult-tasking. We haven’t met a list, task or scheduling challenge whose ass we couldn’t kick.

If you want something done ask a busy person to do it.
~Lucille Ball~

Oh, Lucy, I do love you, and I’ve quoted this MANY times. It may be how I’ve lived most of my life, but it’s an old, dying paradigm.

It is true, that busy people like you and me, we can take on what others have shrugged off, no problemo.

We’ll write that email, while texting, syncing our calendars, peeing and getting dressed, but something will have to give. It may not be accuracy, although studies have shown that it does tend to be a casualty. Case in point: my shirt will be buttoned all wrong, and I’ll send a flirty text, in error, to the last person I texted…..my brother. Inaccurate And inappropriate.

What WILL be lost is: Depth of Connection.

Do you even care? I think you do. I sure as hell do.

We are partially tuned into everything while never being completely tuned into anything.

Not only are we looking down at our devices instead of making eye contact during a conversation, our communication can be so freaking dry.

We aren’t moved by a friend’s loss because it never travels from our ears to our hearts.

We write a quick Happy Birthday on a friend’s Facebook wall, often forgetting to send the card or call. Shame on us.

The quick email or text answer we shoot off after only half reading the question, can come across as impersonal and detached, because we didn’t take the time to write mindfully and thoughtfully. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve misconstrued a text ( meaning got my feelings hurt, or got pissed) for lack of a tone of voice. 

Oh hey, I have an idea. Maybe a phone call would have been better, but…shit. We don’t have the time, and we would have to actually engage emotionally.

It is so much easier to send a sad face emoticon 🙁

My husband has this nifty trick. When the doorbell rings at dinner time, which is the bewitching hour for solicitors, he answers the door with his phone to his ear, pretending to be deep in conversation. That sends the universal, non-verbal signal: “Can’t you see I’m busy? Fuck off!”
It works every time. He’s back at the table in two seconds flat.

I know people that enter EVERY room like that. Cellphone up to the ear, chatting away, while shaking hands and air kissing their way through the party, meeting or lunch date. Meanwhile, all of us on the receiving end are wading in the shallows of their connection. To me it always feels like that same F-You message my husband so brilliantly employs.

I, for one pledge to try harder, to be smarter about making that deeper connection. Strive for some substance over fluff. Who’s with me?

And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling “This is important! And This is important! And This is important!
And each day it’s up to you to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say, “NO. This is what’s important.”
~Iain Thomas~ Excerpt from Thrive by Arianna Huffington

Do you catch yourself walking and texting or entering a shop while you’re on the phone?
Have you been caught on the receiving end of the shallow connection?
I’d love some feedback on this. Tell me in the comments below!

Xox

Mary Widdicks is an incredibly hilarious, very successful fellow blogger who’s topics are family and kids. She has generously agreed to allow me to guest blog. How cool is that? Please check it out. Thanks Mary!

Xox Janet

http://outmannedmommy.com/2014/05/26/motherhood-calling/

Mary Widdicks is a 31 year old mother of two boys. Once a cognitive psychologist, she now spends her time trying (and failing!) to outsmart her kids. She is the writer behind the humorous parenting blog Outmanned (www.outmannedmommy.com), where she turns for entertainment when she can’t take any more fart jokes or belching contests. Her work has been featured on parenting sites such as Mamapedia, Mamalode, and Scary Mommy. She is a regular contributor on BLUNTmoms, has been honored as a 2014 Voice of the Year by BlogHer, and is currently a finalist for The Indie Chicks’ Badass Blogger of the Year award.

When I was working in Estate Jewelry, we had a bench jeweler, David, on the premises.
He had a set up, kind of like the glass blowers have at Disneyland. He worked in a veritable fishbowl. There he sat, in a glass enclosed booth at the front of the store, working his alchemy with his torch and tools.
When people would drop off their repairs, especially a badly damaged engagement ring, David would put his other jobs aside and get to work. The woman would then press her nose against the glass to watch. I would walk over, put my arm around her shoulder and gently shepherd her away. 

“Oh, you don’t want to watch this.” I’d whisper. “Go get a coffee and come back in an hour or so. Better yet, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
She’d kinda look at me funny, wondering if I was serious, and then, when she saw the look on my face, she’d hand me her number, grab her purse and go.
I knew that while she was gone, all hell was going to break loose on that bench.

I was being kind. I was sparing her the horror that watching the process would undoubtedly cause her. I also didn’t want to pick tiny pieces of broken glass out of David’s hair, after she jumped through the window to strangle him.

What I knew, from years of observation was this: During the process of fixing, rebuilding and restoring the ring to its former glory, it was going to get ugly. And by ugly, I mean the catastrophic results of the biggest shit storm you’ve ever seen. There would be broken bits and diamonds scattered everywhere, as he deconstructed it. At a certain point it wouldn’t even resemble anything close to a ring. It would look like a pile of platinum scrap with some shiny bits. It used to horrify me, in the beginning, when I would walk over to check on the progress of a repair. I’d gasp and stop dead in my tracks with my hand over my mouth and tears in my eyes.
And I was a jeweler.
No one should have to watch that kind of carnage. It’s cruel.
I wanted to save clients THAT experience.
David explained that in order to build it stronger, he had to tear it down and basically start over. Not just anyone could get away with that. He was a sorcerer, my Merlin, he preformed feats of incredible alchemy and he was a master at antique jewelry restoration. When I eventually handed the ring back to the client, it looked good as new, actually….better.

No civilian is allowed to watch a surgery, that is reserved for other doctors, and the reason is the same. During the “putting you back together” portion of the procedure, there are blood and guts all over the place. It doesn’t look like the patient could possibly live.
It appears that there are too many guts OUT of the body, to go back IN the body. Too much blood loss to survive. We would puke, and then faint in our own puke; so they save us the stress and humiliation and hand us back a cleaned up, sewed up, repaired, person…… Better than new.

I was having lunch today with a friend, and I told her I feel as if lately, I’m at the jewelers bench or on operating table, and I’m watching the carnage of the rebuilding of my life. It’s in the ugly stage of reconstruction, with bits lying everywhere. It looks NOTHING like my former life. And I’m not being a pro about it today.
I’m the novice, gasping with my hand over my mouth and tears in my eyes, in complete terror.
I know better.
I would tell YOU to avert your eyes.
I need to look away.
It seems like a shit pile right now, but it will be good as new soon……..probably better.
I AM a pro and experience is on my side.

*What happens if you have something left over after you put all the guts back into someone? Is it like the two extra screws that remain behind, and don’t seem to belong anywhere?
Just wondering…….carry on.

Xox