Monthly Archives: September 2013

Coffee and Coincidence

I’m sitting in my local coffee shop listening to some insanely good basement music, drinking coffee, and wondering what I should write now.  I began the day with one of my infamous odd coincidences.  I’ve finished with some pressing work and have more to do but I’m taking the time to write yet another blog post.

I find it amusing that I was again drinking coffee on the way to get coffee.  When I laughingly mentioned my predilection for a pre-coffee coffee to a new acquaintance the other day, he replied that it sounded like a great post.  That little conversation stuck with me.

This morning I posted my double coffee idiocy as an update on my FB account.

Not five minutes after posting this tidbit of information on my social network, I walk into the coffee shop.  The same gentleman from the bakery with whom I had coffee post conversation happens to be sitting at the table next to the one I acquired.

How’s that for coincidence?

Amusements aside, I settle down to get some actual work done and almost immediately my favorite table becomes available.  I quickly jump tables and become immersed in my work and my internet time.

I’m one of those people that get lost in their work.  I’m completely interruptible when I’m working (don’t let the show of fangs and the low growls scare you off) yet I am mostly oblivious to my surroundings.  If the words are flowing sluggishly, I can cease typing and provide my full attention to someone or something.  If the words are pouring forth like flood waters heading downstream, I’ll still be able to give attention to something else, perhaps just not a full hundred percent.  Try not to be overly surprised if I should continue typing at the same time we are conversing.  I’ve found that I can hear and process information during these times, I just may not actually remember it until later.

(Note to all ya’ll.  If this happens to you, a nudging reminder after an episode such as described wouldn’t be an awful idea.)

And I apologize in advance.  I don’t know if I can completely describe the urgency of some words.  The words begin flowing through my head, in the correct order, with the precise vocabulary and particular grammar and it needs to be written down, typed, saved and it must be done right then, and just so.  The words are an insistent toddler tugging at my sleeve for attention.  It is possible to delay that attention; it just doesn’t tend to be either productive or conclusive.  Something is invariably lost in the delay.  It looks blankly at me with the incomprehension of the toddler who has forgotten what she wanted.  It smiles and hugs me, shrugs its shoulders and skips away, already involved with something else.hair3

That being said, there are a number of those counterfeit toddlers yanking at my sleeve, poking me with their insistent little fingers, hopping from foot-to-foot in the urgent child dance of impatience.

I’ll go care for my toddlers for a bit and then maybe I’ll see you on the other side.  They’re jumping up and down, ganging up on me, and attempting to overwhelm me right now.  Wish me luck.



Flirting with Friday the 13th

Today, Friday the 13th, has been a stunning day.  It has been a weird cycle of everything under the moon.  The sheer looniness of the day inspired me to check the moon phase.  Tonight is a half moon, not a new moon or a full moon, just a regular, run-of-the-mill partial moon.

The thing that struck me most about today was the sheer number of people who attempted to wrangle time with me.  To be blunt, the amount of men hitting on me today was astounding.

I have to admit that generally speaking, it takes me awhile to understand that someone is attempting to hit on me.  Unless I happen to be the one wanting to flirt, it fails to immediately come to my attention that the friendly conversation I am having with someone is, in actuality, the beginning stages of a mating dance.

I understand that some of the men I spoke with today were just being friendly.  There were several situations where I was simply engaging in interesting conversations.  That being said, had I given a number of men anything resembling actual encouragement, my Fridays and Saturdays would probably be booked for the next month.  Or two.  Possibly three.

heartlockBeing oblivious is both a blessing and a curse.  I’m going to admit that I’m not totally oblivious.  I intentionally ascribe the responsiveness of the opposite sex as nothing other than benign friendliness.  There are many reasons for this deliberate obtuseness.  The principal reason has to be that I am not on the market.  I am not looking.  That being said, it does not mean that I am not flattered and it certainly does not mean that I am not vastly interested in some of the rather remarkable stories people tell.  Often, people I meet tell me intimate stories and then wonder aloud why they felt compelled to do so.  I have no answer to this.  It simply is.

Perhaps they sense that I am truly interested.  As often as possible I work at a coffee shop or somewhere with activity and people but I usually work from home.  I have no water cooler over which I can trade gossip; I have no coffee breaks with work-friends.  Work is me.  I am my entire place of business.  Not that I don’t love myself but I already know what I’m thinking.  I like to hear differing opinions and see people in various states of emotions and moods.  I enjoy the ways in which people come to conclusions and I like hearing random conversations.

As I sit here thinking about the ‘day of Dee’, I am both flattered and confused.  What about today prompted such a large and eclectic number of men to attempt to seek my companionship?

I can be the epitome of feminine and wonder if it was the clothes I wore, the style of my hair, the scent from my skin.  I can look at it psychologically and believe it may be something to do with the convergence of day and date.  Perhaps inhibitions are suppressed when danger is thought to be nigh.  I can look at it philosophically and believe it may have something to do with the strange weather coursing from fall/winter to high summer and back again to fall in the course of a mere 48 hours.  Perhaps the chill swirling through the air even as the sun beat down warming rays had a part in the day.  I may even look at it physiologically and wonder if the interval between intimacies has elicited some bodily response that is being unintentionally broadcast.  Mayhap it is the assemblage of several of these possibilities.   I simply have no idea.

What I do know is that today began as my typical Tuesday and everyone else’s Friday the 13th.  I killed the coffee pot.  Twice.  Narrowly avoided a side-impact collision due to someone else’s inattention.  Ran late for an appointment where my client decided to converse in Greek (which I do not speak).  Found the exact item I wanted to purchase on sale and I had a coupon.  Walked in the sun.  Purchased the wrong item for another project but had enough time to return and obtain the correct thing.  Got hit on again.  And again.  And again.

Does it sound like a complaint?  I would never complain about something so life-affirming.  I am beyond flattered and my ego has been jacked to the hilt.  Today I entertained flirts from mechanics to millionaires and I wish to express my appreciation.

It is still early and I have an enormous amount of work to do.  Instead of soaking in a hot bath and sharing my day via cyberworld, I should have been productive.  For many reasons, the day has been beyond compare, not the least of which has been the attention.

For every up there is a down, for every happy there is a sad, for every forward there is a reverse.  As I revel in the day, I sit here alone, typing on my computer.  Tired and waiting, I am dressed in an undressed type of way, wearing a ridiculously purple and pink leopard print shortie.  Leopards do not come naturally in these colors and I attempt to not wonder how anyone decided an ersatz gown should be bedecked with the atrocious pattern.  And I wonder about it anyway, as I wear the questionable thing.  And if you promise to not tell, I’ll even admit that I actually purchased this item of ill-repute myself.  I can only conclude that I was in an altered state of mind at the time.

I will awaken tomorrow and see if the coffee pot is beyond dead.  I will evict the snakes from the basement (which is not code or a euphemism), and I will be productive for awhile.  Then I will find the sun, or a smile, or a place to dance and I will enjoy the time I have.

I will make every moment count and I will meet more interesting people.  I will smile and listen and if necessary, I will again be intentionally obtuse.  I will thank you all for the smiles and the stories and the time we have shared.


Death be not proud

I awoke in the middle of the night feeling like I was going to die.  No, I wasn’t in a great deal of pain, even considering the phantom tooth-ache I’ve been battling for days.

skull-heart-9356456It can be humbling to wake in the middle of the night thinking, “I’m going to die soon”.  Your brain kicks into overdrive and you’re immediately awake.  The darkness and cold notwithstanding, suddenly you’re making mental plans you thought you had years to put into motion.

On the heels of your sudden revelation, you think things you probably wouldn’t bother about in the light of day.

You wonder if your children know everything you want them to know.  Will they understand that you did your best or will they think you were selfish and self-serving?  Will they forgive you for the mistakes you invariably made or will they hold them close in their memories to the eventual exclusion of everything you got right?

You think about the things you’ve done and haven’t done and have always meant to do.  You begin to reorder your priorities so if you have any time, any time at all, you’ll be able to manage the affairs you deem most important.  You reevaluate everything and reestablish precedence.  You calculate what you want, what you believe, what you think you need.

You think about what you’re leaving behind and where it might come to rest.  Will your beloved collection go to someone who will appreciate it or to someone who will cherish it because they cherished you?  Will the remnants of your life be boxed and given to charity or will your family find places in their hearts and their homes for items that meant so much to you?

And then you think of love.  Will the joyous, precious love so fleetingly given you, reemerge post-mortem like a turtle reengaging the world once all threat of danger has passed?  Will the love you embraced so wonderingly, so passionately and so enthusiastically be buried with your remains or will the banked embers warm your lover’s heart?

It is easy to dismiss such thoughts with the sunlight streaming through the sky, the local cardinal beating cadence on the window, a hot cup of coffee at your elbow.  You think to yourself that you’re being overly dramatic, that such thoughts are crazy.  Yes, everyone is going to die … someday.  But in the glow of sunshine, the wondrous beauty of the world, thoughts of dying seem silly and pessimistic.

In the deep void of night, being awoken from slumber with the certainty that death is imminent does not seem ridiculous.  It surfaces as a secret knowledge your body is suddenly attempting to convey, a surreptitiously passed message from subconscious to conscious like notes sent between friends at school.  It is, quite literally, a wake-up call.  It is the knowledge that life is finite, that our days may end sooner than desired, that death is a sneaky thief stealing time from its rightful owners.

I woke from slumber with the knowledge that I was dying.  Whether that death comes today or tomorrow, it has revitalized my resolve to live like there would be no tomorrow, love like I have no ego, dance like I have no shame.

This minute, this hour, this day is mine.  I will revel in the knowledge that I can make each moment count and not squander the commodity of time that bastard thief will someday steal from my coffers.

I will live like there is no tomorrow.  I will dance, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow is but a whisper on the wind.

Sláinte                                        skulls-36

Condemning Others

Today I clicked on a link that one of my facebook (and college) friends posted.  Generally speaking, I applaud this person’s point of view.  It appears we have similar ideas of parenting, cooking, and other things.  So, I clicked on the link that she promoted.


I’m posting this link for a number of reasons.  The first and foremost reason is that I wrote a very long comment on the end of this article and I’m selfish enough to want it read by my readers, as well as the author of the article.  My other reasons are probably spurious so I’ll spare you and just get on with my rebuttal.

♦ ♦ ♦

“I guess I’m going to be the voice of dissension and possibly comment on things you might feel are irrelevant.

I am a HUGE proponent of modesty although I was not raised as a prude, nor in a stifling religious atmosphere. Additionally, I chafe at the idea that something may be fine for one gender yet not the other.  I was brought up in a world where the reasoning behind my inability to do, or go, or see, or experience was based upon my gender.

“My brother is going, I want to go, too”  “No, you can’t”  “Why?”  “He’s a boy, it’s different”

That being said, I grew into someone who railed against the idea of gender bias.  I decided that if a boy could do it, a girl should be able to do so as well.

I have to tell you, this has caused a number of predicaments in my life, not the least of which has been my relationships.  I eventually got to the point of being incredibly up-front with any prospective mates.  I do not believe in the flesh industry.  I do not believe that it is somehow a ‘right’ for men to blithely view pornography while believing it cannot be allowed for their lovers.  Personally, I don’t want to view it and I don’t want my man to view it, either.  It, in my mind, is cheating.  The entire point of porn is to sexually stimulate.  If your mate is viewing this, they are mentally and with prior aforethought being stimulated by another person.

That being said, I believe that a healthy, mature relationship banks on the fact that both parties agree on what is right and good and acceptable.  Different people have different standards of what is ‘right’ or acceptable.

I’ve learned though, that you cannot control what other people do.  You cannot innocently go to a show and stop the woman from taking off her shirt.  You cannot go out for New Year’s Eve and stop the drunks from not only grinding on the floor but dropping trou while doing so.  You cannot tell the girl on the beach to retie her bikini top because you can see her nipple from the side.  You cannot tell a teenager, testing the waters of his/her sexuality that her provocative boudoir pose is beyond the realms of decency – especially when she remains covered.

Do I agree with it?  NO.  Do I like seeing it?  NO.  Would I like my son to be viewing it on his friends’ pages?  NO.  Is it going to happen regardless of what I say and who I block from his page?  YES!

Are you unaware that your son’s friends have friends and that they can merely go through their friends’ pages to see any picture or mutual friend that they wish?  Do you honestly believe that by blocking some of these incredibly innocent girl-women you are doing them, or your son, any favors??

Instead, why don’t you keep watch for those girls who are actually going off the deep end and doing more than posting a pajama selfie and trying to act grownup and sophisticated and sexy.  Instead of denigrating these girls or blocking them, why not teach your male child to be mature.  Offer, instead, a solution to the rather rampant and growing problem of loose morals and selfishness.  Why not, instead of offering an ULTIMATUM, use these things as teaching lessons?  I mean, do you not understand that these are *teenagers* and for someone teetering on the edge of doing what is acceptable (or not) will probably only be pushed to the other side by being flat-out told what they MUST DO?

Why not have your sons comment on the photo with something akin to “this is a nice picture, but I prefer to see you as yourself and not staged”.  Or perhaps “I like the picture of you at the beach better.  The one where you are splashing and having fun.  This seems overly provocative”.  Or send the girl a private message asking about it.  Maybe she is playing around and not aware of the messages she is sending.  Maybe she is in a household which is abusive, or cold and lonely and is looking for attention.  You do not KNOW why she posted this picture, only that she did … and you condemn her for it.

YOU are the adult there.  You.  I’m afraid that if you spend all your time and energy blocking the things that you do not wish your family to see, two things will happen.
1.  They will be unable to maturely deal with these things when they DO encounter them.  And believe me, they WILL encounter them, sooner or later.
2.  You will lose out on the teaching moments only to be a harsh taskmaster.  This, to me, seems counterproductive to a parent-child relationship.  There is a time when we must begin to treat our progeny to think for themselves and do deal with the realities of the world in which we live.

We cannot change other people.  We can only change ourselves.

*NOTE:  I originally began this comment to argue with the ‘anonymous’ poster who said it is well known that boys and men are stimulated by sight and girls/women are not.  I only have one reply to this.  Pffffttttt.