Mumsy and me

How am I like my mom?

My mom and I look so much alike that if you were to meet a group of 72-year-old women you could easily identify which one spawned me. According to a coworker who met her last week, she even makes the same spastic gestures that I do and will launch into an amusing story without prompt. I'm not sure my mom would appreciate that comparison but I don't think he's wrong either.

Virginia Beach

I was recently working on a list of the ways in which she and I differ because when asked that question I couldn't think of anything. Of course we are different in many ways but I don't tend to concentrate on them. I have always considered myself just like her, for better or for worse. We are both sensitive, sometimes to a fault. But we are also attuned to the feelings of others because of this.

At first we both seem to be rather buttoned up and prim. Because the reality is not apparent at first blush, when people discover that we have a silly side they are often quite surprised.

We both love Prosecco, Bloody Marys and margaritas made from scratch. We love to travel with our husbands but we are also perfectly happy to spend time alone when they are away without us. We each have the tendency to stay up late after everyone else has gone to bed. In fact, she's probably also up right now. But we should both be getting to bed if that is the case!

Anyway, I could not locate a photo of us together as adults. Here are a bunch more of her.

(This is a Reverb post. Topic: How am I like my mom)  

Three things I'm good at

At first I whined about this Reverb prompt because I am uncomfortable with talking myself up. That's unfortunate because sometimes it really is necessary, like in mid-year reviews. But I managed to come up with these three.

1. I'm a great traveler. I can pack just the right amount of clothes, mixing and matching top layers and rarely taking more than two pairs of shoes. I keep a list of essentials to check off when packing. I have all sorts of tricks such as putting my purse inside my backpack when boarding the plane so that it looks like I only have two carry-ons (backpack and rolling bag). I take a water bottle and I have a perfect one now with a Brita-like filter built in. I also am not beaten easily by jet lag. If flying to Europe, I try to take an overnight flight and sleep if I can on the plane. The first day sucks but if I make it to 8pm I'm golden for the rest of the trip. I remain calm when flights are delayed or the customs line is long. There is nothing I can do about those things, so why get my panties into a bunch over it? I learned a lot of my travel tricks from my dad, who was a pilot for TWA.

2. I am good at making people feel welcome. This is not the same thing as being good at small talk, although I'm passable at that when needed. I look at talking to people I barely or don't know as an opportunity to learn some interesting stories so I ask questions to get them started talking. It almost always works out. They feel welcome and I don't have to do as much of the talking. On rare occasions I will encounter someone who is also a question-asker and then the two of us will have a bit of a power struggle because of course you can't be rude and not answer questions politely asked of you. And you can't turn every question into a reverse question.

Great. Now you know all my secret tricks! (I will admit here that I have not always been good at this business of making conversation, but I have gotten much better at it in recent years and still could be much better but I do consider myself fairly proficient at it. I have improved my skills in this area by listening to some very good advice on the matter by my dad and my friend Catie, who coincidentally, is responsible for today's prompt.)

3. I am a good listener. This goes along with point number 2. You can't ask people probing questions if you aren't going to listen to the answers. And since I'm interested in the answers, it's not hard. Sometimes when having a conversation I am concentrating so much on what the other person is saying that I forget to have a follow-up comment after they stop speaking.

I will never

See, I have this silly habit of declaring I won't do something and then I eventually do it. My friends just roll their eyes now when I say there is no way in hell I'll do something. This mainly applies to fashion.

Some things I said I'd never ever wear include: knee-high boots, capris, 3/4 length sleeves, leggings, jeggings (except I refuse to call them jeggings and I swear they are just really tight pants, mostly because the word jeggings is completely inane). I also said I'd never read the Harry Potter books or get a Mac.

So, I'm a little hesitant to say there are things I'd never do because saying I won't do something seems to a signal that I will be doing it within a couple years at the most. (It goes without saying that this list will not include things like murder.)

1. I will never get a tattoo. I'm of the camp that I could never pick one and feel confident that I'll like it for the rest of my life. I'm very interested in seeing what others choose for theirs, though. I maybe read too much into them and assume the tattoos are a little window into what makes a person tick.

2. I will never play the lottery. This doesn't really require an explanation, does it?

3. I will never go scuba diving. I am not a big fan of swimming in the first place. I mean, it's fine, I just don't adore it or crave it. I mainly get in the water because I'm hot. I don't really like putting my head under water and I don't feel completely comfortable being in the ocean, especially when it's murky.

4. I will never start drinking coffee again. I stopped drinking it when I was 23, switched to tea, and have never looked back. I like the flavor but not how it makes my tummy feel.

5. I will never have a job that requires doing a lot with numbers. I'm so terrible at math that it would be a truly horrible idea to even apply for such a job.

6. I will never be a fan of winter. There is nothing good about winter. I don't like winter sports, being cold all the time, having to wear closed-toe shoes, darkness descending practically right after lunch. Jeff will defend winter by saying that Christmas is in the wintertime, and that is certainly true, but what is also true is that no matter where you live, Christmas is still on December 25. Although I would have a hard time adjusting to living anywhere besides NYC, or at least the northeast, I would really, really like to live somewhere that is warm all year round. Or at least a place where it rarely drops below 60 degrees. There are some great cities on the west coast where it doesn't get that cold, but the other thing is that like I said, I feel tied to the east coast and also I love the sun. I'm no sun worshiper, mind you. I just love it when it's sunny and warm.

7. I will never wear running shoes for anything besides exercise. (I admit that I had to wear them recently for a whole day that included a hike/walk in the woods and I felt weird about it the whole time. I should have just sucked it up and worn my hiking boots, even though they would have been annoying to wear on a 2-hour bus ride before and after this hike/walk.)

8. I will never say never on this one, but I really can't imagine myself living anywhere besides a large-ish, walkable city.

9. I will never willingly become a vegetarian. Sorry, delicious animals.

10. I will never wear leggings as pants. No really. I'm serious about this. And yes, I'm totally judging others who do this.

I don't have any food items on my list because I'm open to trying any food item once. Maybe this comes from my childhood when my parents forced me to try at least a bite of everything I was served at mealtime. If it was something I wasn't wild about but had eaten before, I had to eat three bites. I don't think that ever caused me to admit that I had begun liking something nasty (like sweet potatoes), but it did make me realize that periodically a person should taste again something you don't believe you like. The first time this happened to me, I was 20 years old and I found out that cherries are an absolutely amazing fruit and I had spent my entire life up until that point believing that I hated them, probably because I had only ever tried those nasty pickled ones. I am now in the process of learning which mushrooms I actually like. I always thought I hated them, but now I'm learning that some of them are quite delicious.

(This is a Reverb post. Topic: 10 things you'll never do) 

The Terrible Twenties

Coming up on ten years ago marks the end of the decade I call my Terrible Twenties. I was a brat. The only person who mattered was me. Whatever was fun was what was most important.

My Terrible Twenties began in my late teens and ended on tax day, 2002, five months after I had met Jeff.

When thinking about my former self I really do see her as another person. When I made the decision to not be a brat anymore it was a finality. I never went back on my decision to snap out of my bratty phase. You'd think that it would have been easy to slip right back in but it was actually really easy to leave it all behind.

I have wondered if I could have lived my Terrible Twenties differently and if I had if I would be a different person now. I don't think that I would have stayed in and read more instead of going out if someone had told me that going out almost every night of the week until the wee hours wasn't worth it. At the time it was incredibly important to me. Looking back it seems SO obvious that it wasn't worth it, but younger me would never have bought that truth. And anyway, I think those years did help shape the current me.

Reflecting on those years in my early 20s leads me to wonder if any authority figure could have talked me out of being such a brat. I wish I could say it would have been possible but I'm not sure about that. I dare say that by the time I left for college it was already set in stone that it would take many years for me to learn to appreciate the freedom of being an adult. If I were a parent would I be able to steer my kid away from the Terrible Twenties? I don't know. But I resolve to try.

(This entry was loosely based on a prompt by the Reverb Broads group. The photo is of me at age 21.)

The importance of wireless headphones and couches

I've been listening to a lot of ambient music lately. I went through a period in high school when I was absolutely obsessed with Vangelis. I had all his albums. In retrospect, I think that was a rather strange obsession for a high schooler. And by obsession, I don't mean that I researched him or knew the first thing about him. I just listened to the albums a lot. Of course my obsession began with Chariots of Fire. Okay, I checked on Wikipedia. I by no means had all his albums. I certainly didn't have one called Sex Power. Although maybe it's too bad that I didn't! We can only wonder how different my life might have been if I had such an album at age 16.

Anyway, the ambient station on Pandora is pretty good. It relaxes me. Although in typical Pandora fashion sometimes it goes off on a tangent and plays a song that is just the sound of a dripping faucet.

I listen to music pretty much constantly when I'm home alone. I rarely turn on the TV when Jeff is away and I especially don't now that there is so much available via streaming. I feel guilty about watching TV, even if it's really good TV. Jeff will still channel surf on the weekends sometimes, but I try to quash this behavior. It's a time suck! Why watch half of a movie? It doesn't bother him, apparently. And this is why we have wireless headphones. If you live in an apartment I strongly urge you to invest in a pair of them.

Sometimes I will choose not to watch a new show because of the guilt and also because I feel like I spend too much time watching TV. Invariably I choose not to watch what winds up being everyone's favorite show. I noticed that season 1 of Breaking Bad is on Netflix on demand, but I also really want to start The Invention of Hugo Cabret.

Also, watching a show on the computer feels like it's the worst of both worlds. I'm watching TV AND I'm on the internet. So not just one thing to feel guilty about, but two! I have a lot of guilt about things that aren't worth feeling guilty about, in case you hadn't guessed.

Alright, I've decided to watch the first episode. But I am definitely going to feel very guilty about it.

No, I didn't take it home.

Oh, by the way, I'm sitting on my new couch. I had a futon when Jeff and I moved in together. It was a bit too large for our current living room and plus, those things are not comfortable to sit on at all. So we got rid of if when I inherited two wing chairs. They are very nice wing chairs, but I did not realize how important it is to have a couch. The wing chairs are now safely stored in my in-laws' basement and we have a lovely new couch. I can put my head in Jeff's lap while we watch TV! Cuddling is necessary and good.

For now we have a no eating on the new couch rule. Or at least a no eating anything messy on the new couch rule. Or what is really a no eating anything messy when the other person is around to see you doing it rule.

The new norm

Isn't it funny how after a while a person adjusts to just about anything?

Just four days ago, I was in tears because it seemed as if the mice had already won. I sat at the kitchen table in the middle of the day while a mouse the size of a toddler crouched behind our stove and rattled the back cover. He did that all day long while a smaller mouse, one the size you are used to seeing, hopped up on the counter beside the stove, and walked around on his hind legs, paws on hips, sticking his tongue out at me. It happened exactly like that.

That was Thursday. By last night, when mice 7 and 8 had seen no reason not to reach for a stale piece of chocolate that for some odd reason smelled of death, I was almost entirely immune to the death chamber that has become the space between our stove and fridge.

Booie ferociously grabs at the mice when we pull them out. I have no idea why she wants to chomp down on a dead mouse, but I guess that's her way of showing how she would handle one. Yeah, okay, Booie, but still, it's snap trap: 8. Booie: 0. Whoever said that cats are good for a) keeping mice from setting up shop in your home because of their feline smell alone and b) that all cats are good at catching mice was a) a liar and b) probably had never owned a cat. Some cats are simply better suited to lying in sunny windows.

So, killing cute little animals has become the norm around here. I'm not saying I like it by any means, but it did become easier and quite fast, too. Fortunately or unfortunately, I had to adjust to that new norm whether I wanted to or not. Sometimes I think it would be easier if more things in life were foisted upon us like that, whether we think we want them or not. Or maybe I just need to get better at doing more self-imposed foisting.

Realization about chivalry vs. manners

I've battled for some time this notion of how manners are supposed to work. This is especially in relation to how men treat women. For example: men should always usher women through doorways first. If a group of people arrives at a bar together and there are only a couple stools, the men should allow the women to decide if they want to sit first. A man should ensure that the woman he's with gets on or off the subway before he does. Etc.

Now, I have lived in New York or New Jersey since I left home to attend college, but I grew up in the semi-south of northern Virginia. My father is from the actual South and is this sort of gentleman described above. (It is no great stretch to put two and two together and see that I got this view of reality from observing my dad.)

Some of this sort of chivalry goes on in the North, but there is a lot of each wo/man for him/herself going on as well. And that always bugged me. On the one hand, I don't want to be bugged by it because I know deep down that there is NO reason for women to be treated differently than men. Why should a woman get on the subway first, right? A man could be just as tired at the end of the day as a woman and we women are perfectly entitled to dress however we want, so we can't say that we deserve the seats because we have to wear high heels. Many of us wear comfy shoes for commuting or comfy shoes all the time. I spend 95% of my work day with my ass parked in a chair. I really don't NEED to sit down for my 22 minute commute.

Most mornings I actually prefer to stand and I have this whole system where I hang back when people are entering the train so that I'm the last one on and can lean against the door. Since most people are rushing to get a seat that probably doesn't exist, it's very easy to hang back. I have been practicing this method for a few months now and not a single man has stood aside and ushered me onto the train first. If he did, I don't know what I'd do! He'd be foiling my plan! 

After reading this article, I had a realization. What struck me especially was this part:

To be sure, strict rules regarding courtesy and deference to others have historically been used as a way to enforce a social order in which women and blacks were considered less than full citizens.

In the Jim Crow era, blacks and whites lived with a code of hyper-politeness as a way to smooth the edges of a harsh racial system and, of course, keep it in place, scholars of Southern culture say.

As those issues faded, proper manners remained an important cultural marker that Southerners have worked to maintain. 
Ah ha! That's what it is! Chivalry of the sort outlined above (the kind where men let women enter the elevator first) really does need to die, assuming we no longer require this code of hyper-politeness to smooth the edges of a system in which women are inferior.

The other kind of chivalry, however, needs to be worked on by everyone, not just those of us in the North. There is no reason not to hold the door for the person walking right behind you. And there is no reason for that person to not say, "thank you!" It doesn't matter if it's a woman holding the door for a man or vice versa. It's just a nice thing to do for a fellow human being.

Phew! I'm so glad that I finally figured out why I had been battling that issue for so long.

(Photo is in honor of Halloween, even if it is a few days late.)

The life list, part 2

Thirteen months ago, I wrote a life list, which I came across today. A lot of what's on there remains the same, but some of it changed. Earlier today, I wrote in my paper journal that I need a dog, so that definitely remains on the list. I quit toastmasters, so that's out of the picture. I don't care so much about picking up French again, at least not at the moment. I no longer care if our future home has a bar and I also care a lot less about learning how to brew with Jeff. That'll be his thing, whenever he gets around to it.

1. Have a reasonably clean apartment that feels like home, not a messy pit.
2. Own a dog.
3. Learn to drive stick shift. [Sure, I guess. I still want to do this, but it's not that important to me anymore. Maybe I take it off the list.]
4. Live abroad.... hmm... is this still something I want? I'm not sure. Let's change this to: continue to travel to new places and return to the especially loved ones.
5. Be a mother.
6. Get better at cooking through practice.
7. Write a book.
8. Publish a book.
9. Be able to say, "I'm a runner" and not inwardly say, "liar" because I don't stick with it.
10. Have toned biceps.
11. Learn how to use a sewing a machine.
12. Invest properly.
13. Get to the point where we are living in a home that seems big enough, presumably with more than one bathroom.
14. Find a way to use photography in new ways.
15. Let go of the past.
16. Drive across the US.
17. Come into my own.

I am going to need to revisit this list more often than once a year. Maybe I'll tack it up on my bulletin board and refer to it like some people refer to their new year's resolutions, a practice I don't much like, by the way. If you want to make a change, make a change! Don't wait for January 1 to do it. Do it now.

Thoughts on 36

I've never felt remorse about my birthday. I'm always excited to a) get taken out to dinner but also b) to see what a new year will bring. This is a little bit amusing since many years lately have been pretty much the same, one after another, with some exotic trips sprinkled in here and there.

My 30th birthday

Next week I'm turning 36. This time I do feel something different. It's not like 30, when I was excited to be leaving all the mistakes of my 20s behind. And it's not like 21 when I could finally drink legally. Those are years you're supposed to get excited about. Not 36. No one says, "how does it feel to be 36??"

I will be half my mother's age and therefore the same age she was when she had me.

I'm in a women's group that meets every other Wednesday and I wasn't going to go on my birthday. Because it's my birthday! Even though just saying that out loud seemed silly when I said it. So I will be fêted the day before, which is perfect because my mom will be taking me out for happy hour that evening already. And then I will meet Jeff for dinner.

In my 20s I loved celebrating with friends in bars. For my 30th Jeff organized an outing to a burlesque club and that was the perfect way to seal off my 20s -- with a bang. It feels false to me now, to do gatherings with friends on my birthday. NOT to say that I believe that is true for others. Just for me.

I've missed this.

I'm thinking about blogging again. I haven't done that in a while. Or whatever it's called. Journaling? Keeping a diary? I never was a fan of calling it a diary. As much as diaryland meant to me at one time, I was never thrilled with the name. Also, I was constantly typing dairyland instead, which spellcheck wants to change to fairyland.

Before the internet, or I should say: last century, before blogging was all the rage or even a medium I had heard of, I diligently kept a paper journal. I wish I could remember what lead me to first keep a diary back in the 4th grade. Although that was a very hard year for me, I was not self aware enough to be able to record my thoughts on what was hard for me at the time. I merely kept a record of what I ate, how I managed to stay up a half hour past bedtime, what games I played with what friends, etc.

I think I started recording thoughts as well as actions a couple years later. There was nothing that deep, though, until high school. And then I went to town in journals. Poems and stories in which terrible or wonderful things would happen to a protagonist not so loosely based on me.

In my late teens and early 20s my journals were everything to me, as was writing letters to my friends (and receiving ones back). I would write to work through my emotions, okay let's face it: mainly about men. But still, this was immensely helpful and for some crazy reason I all but stopped.

Oh wait, not some crazy reason: the Internet. I was 25 for the millennial celebration and a month before that I started a blog. Most people I knew in real life had never heard of blogs. I myself can't remember where I first encountered one, but I can say with certainty that it stirred something in me and I knew I needed one right away.

Blogging was like writing in a paper journal, except with feedback! And praise! And encouragement! I was in a shitty relationship at the time and I needed all of that so very much. But there was also judgement and competition and secrets and inside jokes and cool kids and for the love of god, there were actually awards. I am writing this in the past tense as if this is all in the past. It is for me, but as far as I know it still goes on out there.

And I want nothing to do with any of that. Those things I listed have no place being linked with journaling. I wish blogging was not considered synonymous with journaling. To me journaling is a solitary pursuit and blogging is the public version of that. Not the same at all. I also believe that anyone who claims they blog as openly as they would journal in a private paper book is lying. I have not heard anyone say that lately. I'm just saying.

So anyway. I think I'm going to start using this space again for thoughts, not just as a travelogue. I have come full circle about permanence. I don't really care about keeping these entries as a record of my thoughts at a point in time. I have my paper journals for that. This is a public place and I will not be talking about anything that would make my grandma uncomfortable (in theory. She's not online.), which leaves a lot of room since for a 101-year-old, she's fairly open-minded.

That was an awfully long prologue. Here is the entry itself:

I'm practicing saying no more, or rather not being afraid to say it when it needs to be said. So far, this is going better than I expected. Related: I'm working on telling the truth about why I'm saying no (as long as it's appropriate). I vow to not be vague in this here blog, so here's an example: I have had a very emotionally intense weekend... oh crap, vagueness is creeping in. Okay: I went on a retreat this weekend that was very emotionally taxing (in a good way). More about the retreat in the future. I'm not ready to talk about it yet. On Friday I planned a happy hour this evening with 2 coworkers who live near me. I realized earlier this afternoon that what my soul really needs this evening is to go home and make apple squash soup and be alone (Jeff is away). I was avoiding letting the coworker know that I am bailing because I don't want her to judge me, be mad at me, think I'm a chronic bailer, etc. And guess what: she was totally understanding when I told her the truth. And we made plans to do another happy hour in 2 weeks. How easy was that! Whew. Anyway, I typed this on my phone on a bouncy bus so I'm feeling cross-eyed and woozy now. Over and out.