Grand Theft Auto (Who Needs a Rehearsal Dinner)

All is Fair in Love and War and Divorce.

I have shared with you the story of meeting (and parting ways with) my first husband. It is only fitting, I suppose, to do the same with Husband #2, Russ. (The problem now is I will have to remarry and divorce again in order to make this a running series.)

I would also like to make a disclaimer. Russ passed away over a decade ago. We had already divorced, but it was still a sad time and a tragic set of events. I would never want or set out to speak ill of someone who has already passed on. This is the story of one event that took place on the eve of our wedding.

I have also checked the Statute of Limitations in the State of Virginia, so we should be all set.

Russ was one of the kindest and most generous men I have ever met. He was always helping someone, in more ways than I can recount. He was also always being taken advantage of.

I met Russ when I was 22; which made him 20. We were both living in Virginia and working at The Daily Press. I was a very young divorced single mom with a baby. I worked in the advertising department and walked over every afternoon to get ‘hot off the press’ papers. He had a truck route delivering the afternoon paper, so our paths crossed every day. In the interest of time, let’s just suffice it to say that before long we were a cute little happy couple.

One snag in our budding relationship was a Girl Named Wanda. (Seriously, that was her real name. It just also works well thematically.) She was his ex-girlfriend. And co-owner of a brown van they had purchased together. You know… the old story. She needed a car, couldn’t afford a car, so he co-signed for one. Since he had a vehicle, he let her take the van when they split. Unfortunately she did not make regular payments and then decided to move home to Oklahoma. (This was an extremely strange coincidence, since my ex also was from Oklahoma.)

Russ would never hurt a fly. But I never knew anyone to really challenge him either. He wanted the van back since he was now making the payments. So we planned a trip to Oklahoma. Now, by we, I mean, Russ, myself and his best friend Curtis. In reality, I was probably an afterthought. I’m pretty sure I insisted on going. (Ex-girlfriend vs new girlfriend kinda of thing.) The idea was to show up at her house (her mother’s house) under cloak of darkness and drive away with it. Simple….right?

We drove straight through. It is quite a haul from Virginia to Oklahoma. I will spare you the bodily function stories, but we made excellent time with very few stops. And we did indeed time it to arrive under cloak of darkness. We pulled up across the street. The van was sitting as pretty as you please on the side of the house. (Now mind you, this is NOT the night before our wedding, so it should come as no surprise that our mission was unsuccessful.) I was asked (sure… I’ll say asked) to lie down in the back seat so as not to be seen. What I thought would be a quick and easy get away quickly deteriorated.

For some reason, known only to Russ, at the last second he decided to knock on the front door. Curtis gave me the play-by-play from the front seat that included Wanda coming to the door, a brief conversation and Russ returning empty handed for a very long defeated drive back home.

Fast forward 1 ½ years. We were getting married! I was happy. It was a simple affair, but still sweet. Small gathering of friends and family in the back yard of Russ’s home. Tiffany was going to be the flower girl. (She was 3 years old.) We were pretty much following traditional expectations. (Except using Queen’s version of the Bridal March.) The only hitch (pun intended) came while we were sitting around the afternoon before the rehearsal and talking. Russ’s Uncle John was there. His two best friends (Curtis and Alan) were there. Someone, somehow, for some reason happened to mention that Wanda had moved back to Virginia….with the van.

(It never occurred to me at the time to question why, on the eve of MY wedding, the discussion turned to an ex-girlfriend. Who had kept up with her, her whereabouts, and why?) Never the less, again the location of the van was known and another commandeering mission was put in place. It was decided that after the rehearsal, the guys would drive out to where she was living and once again attempt to retrieve the van under cloak of darkness. Originally I was told I could not go. But I don’t really take kindly to such proclamations. It was finally agreed that I could go, but I had to ride in the last car and not actually go into the subdivision. If something bad went down, I would be able to get away. (Can you feel the tension rising??)

So we had the rehearsal. It went fine. Everyone was goofy and laughing; having fun like those occasions call for. When things finally wound down; however, we started to make serious covert van apprehending plans. Some of the details are a bit fuzzy. It had been almost 30 years after all. However, I believe it was three vehicles. Uncle John and Russ in the lead. I am not sure who drew the short straw and got stuck in the rear car with me. It was about a thirty minute drive to where Wanda was currently living. This trip went much quicker. They went on into the subdivision; while we parked on the side of the road and waited. It seemed like a long time, but in reality I do not think it was. One minute everything was quiet and dark, and the next there were lights and horns and cars and a victorious Uncle John driving a brown van past us at a pretty high rate of speed. We made the much happier return trip to the house and stood out in the yard giddy with adrenaline and accomplishment and vindication. I dare to say the high of that moment probably outdid the afterglow of the typical rehearsal dinner.... Think along the lines of The Fast and The Furious.... I’m sure that is who we all thought we were. My guess is that Uncle John was on watch for the night and the rest of us went to bed.

Now here’s the problem with vindication. There is no end to it. What I do to you; you do to me. Especially when mixed with youth and immaturity. It’s a useless cycle. While my wedding day dawned beautiful and things went exactly as planned, I spent the entire day looking over my shoulder expecting flashing blue cars to pull up and haul my new groom away. Because even though technically his name was on the paperwork somewhere, it was a pretty bold and reckless thing to do..….in hindsight. Fortunately for us (and the guests that took the time to be there) we were spared any pre-You Tube theatrics that day.

The authorities did eventually get involved and lawyers hired to sort it all out. It was quite easy to unravel once all the facts were known. Russ retained custody of the van. To be honest, I could not tell you what happened with it or Wanda. I guess we kept it for awhile and don’t think we ever heard from her again.

Looking back, it could have gone wrong in so many ways. But it didn’t. Instead I have a pretty exciting; uber-cool, (don’t try this yourself) not-too-many-people-can-tell Wedding Eve Story.

It is nice to have one or two of those types of adventures in your life. (Even though I don’t specifically recommend hijacking a car to have one.) Being married to Russ actually brought about a series of adventures. He didn’t believe in dull moments. I cannot say I loved all of those moments. I can say that I loved Russ. The marriage didn’t last unfortunately; but it did produce my second beautiful daughter; Victoria. She is currently expecting a little boy herself and we recently discussed how she believes her little boy will look like her father.

That made both of us smile.

Hope Out

PS…After much thought and consideration, I believe I will be changing the name of my blog. At the time of its inception, The Struggle Is Real seemed to fit the moment. And while sometimes the struggle still DOES seem real, I have decided my focus should be ‘brighter’…. So stay tuned……

They Say You Can’t Go Home Again (But You Can Have a Very Nice Dinner There)

I am writing this at the end of my vacation. That time of year where you pack everyone up and head out for a few days of relaxation, fun and ‘together’ time. And boy did we have fun! Not too sure about the relaxation part, we stayed on the go constantly. Now we are home though and worn out! And isn’t unpacking just the worse? Or is it just me?? But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

When I was a child my parents really didn’t do vacations. They tried once when I was around 4; a trip to the mountains. But I tried to drive their car off the side of that mountain and for some reason they were never again inclined to take me too far from home. That was one thing I sorta regretted about growing up, so when I had kids, I vowed to take them somewhere every year.

Now, as a single parent, my finances were limited, so our vacations might not have amounted to much by the standards of others. But we always took a trip each summer. I loved every one.  As they grew older I was dreading the day when they were adults and out of the house and family vacations would no longer take place.  In fact, about a month before I moved to where I currently reside, we took what I thought would be our last family vacation since my oldest was not moving with me. I tried to remember everything. And while it was a great trip, I discovered an even greater truth……I didn’t have to stop having vacations with my children. Turns out, they like hanging out with Mom… even as adults…. when they don’t have to!

So last week marked approximately 25 years worth of family vacations. And they get better each year. I’ve added a grandson and a son-in-law. And next year, there will be two grandsons! I am realistic enough to understand it will be difficult to always maintain this tradition, but I’m going to keep trying. In the meantime, I continue to treasure each one.

Now I am already 300+ words into my entry, and honestly, family vacations was not the topic. I am just waxing a little emotional, so I threw that part in for free.

No, what I really wanted to share with you was my dinner date on my first night in town. You see it turns out one of my old flames lives near the little seaside town we picked to vacation. And by old I mean, this goes back to high school.

I met John (no, not his real name) when we were teenagers. He was dating one of my good friends. I didn’t spend too much time around him, but I did always have a bit of a secret crush on him. He never knew, they broke up, life happens, everyone went their separate ways. Fast forward about 15 years. I was on a dating site (big surprise, right?) and guess who was also single and on a dating site? John! He was recently divorced and living right down the road. We connected and hit it off. It was a little surreal to know someone as a teenager and then the next time you see them, you are both divorced with young kids. There was a lot of catching up to do. For a while we got along great. John was the first guy to introduce me to Harley’s and took me on my first motorcycle ride. I was trying to be cute and wore shorts. Almost immediately I seared my calf on the hot pipes. I was too proud to admit it, so I rode around all afternoon with my leg burned. (I still have that scar.) He was always a great date and we had some fun adventures. We even had blended family time with our kids. It was fun. Unfortunately he was not as ready as I was for a new relationship. His divorce was fresh and still raw. I will admit it hurt when we broke up. There are just some relationships that burrow deeper into your heart than others. But we moved on and took different paths; both eventually leaving that small town and starting new lives many miles apart.

Fast forward another 15 years! John and I have been friends on Facebook for quite a while. Not the daily contact kind of friends, just the ‘I see what you are up to now and then’ kind. So I knew he lived very near the town we had picked for vacation this year. (Ok, for the skeptics, it was a coincidence.) On a whim (a very scary whim) I sent him a message. I told him we were coming into town and asked if he would like to meet for dinner. To my surprise, delight and trepidation, he said yes! He told me to just let him know when and where I was. (Yikes!)

So let me just set the scene for you. It is Friday afternoon. Blazing hot and humid. I make it to town around 3:30. He called to tell me he was off work and to check on my progress. When he learned I was so close, he offered to help me unpack the car. Now I have not seen this guy in 15 years! I get one date with him, so my plan was to check in, shower, and be ready when he got there. I was NOT prepared for him to see me in traveling clothes, sweat pouring down my face with frizzy hair! But what to say? Of course, I told him to come on. I noticed storm clouds in the distance though, so I did manage to get everything in the house. Within 10 minutes of him getting there (looking great, by the way), a terrific thunderstorm rumbles through. We are on the back porch watching the storm and going through clumsy re-introductions, when suddenly we lose power! So here we sit, awkward strangers/exs/friends, in the dark, in the heat. He had plans to take me to dinner at a place on the island, but the entire area is without power. So we decide to wing it, and quickly, as we were both melting. I did change out of my traveling clothes, but glamorous was not on the agenda.

All in all though, it was a great night. I had forgotten what a classy date he was. We went to a waterfront restaurant to have a drink and discuss dinner options. We ended up at a great little Italian restaurant and the food was amazing. We topped it all off with a walk to the beach. It was almost the perfect date in a little coastal town.

Now I know my romantic-at-heart friends are all holding their breaths waiting for the ‘now what’? But there isn’t a now what. And I knew that going in. That is not what it was about, and I’m ok with that. This was just simply reconnecting with a childhood friend (and yes, former boyfriend) and reminiscing 30 years worth of memories. We laughed and caught up. Told ‘remember when’ stories and ‘how proud of our kids we are’ stories. There were a few uncomfortable silences. Words maybe floating around in the air above us that neither wanted to say. I guess that is to be expected on these occasions. But at the end of the night, I could not have asked for better.

At our rate of communication I guess we will meet again at a retirement dinner. But I suppose that is not necessarily a bad thing. To have someone you have known your entire life, where you can pick up and spend a few hours together. Like you’ve never been apart. It was nice. Very nice.  

Thank you John! You felt like home. Maybe only for a few hours, but still like home.

Hope Out!     

Smile.....You're on Candid Camera (Literally, Everywhere!)

Picture taking has come a very long way in just a few short years. Not that long ago, if we wanted to have a memorialized photo of an event or trip, we had to carry a bulky camera around with us. Some of them were instant cameras where the Polaroid picture came out still damp and had to be shaken dry. I remember having a camera and buying film that had to be mailed back in tiny pouches. I would wait over a week or longer to see my pictures. And there was no editing. Fuzzy. Dim. Closed eyes. Half a head missing. You got what you took. Period. Of course then the digital age took over and we all had cameras with zoom and editing functions. You could take ten pictures and delete the nine you didn’t like without wasting film. You could crop them and brighten them and send them directly for printing or save on a disc. Then someone figured out that if you turned the camera around at just the right angle YOU could be in the picture! And the Selfie was born. (Useless Trivia Alert – Hollywood cameraman, Lester Wimbrod, claims to be the ‘inventor’ of the selfie way back to the early 80s. He was always running into celebrities and wanted to be in the photo with them. So one day he just decided to hold the camera out with his arm, turn it, and snap the picture. He took so many of them, and became quite famous locally for doing so, that they were originally called ‘Lesters’. He took hundreds and recently compiled them and posted on YouTube.)

Today almost everyone has a cell phone and every cell phone has a camera. So we have now become obsessed with snapping pictures of everything. We take pictures of sunrises and sunsets. Being out with friends. Places we go. We document our work and our hobbies. We take pictures of our food; whether we cooked it or are eating out. And of course, the aforementioned selfie. I googled it, and apparently worldwide there are over 90 million selfies taken every day. That seems a little crazy to me, but then again, I account for at least one or two of them myself. Another piece of Trivia…“Selfie” was the word of the year in 2013.

There are cameras everywhere, not just on our phones. Street corners, stores, traffic lights. It is literally impossible to leave your house and not have your every move documented. And let’s not forget the drones buzzing around overhead. I am not sure who, if anyone, ever really monitors or watches the feed, but make no mistake, it is out there somewhere. (Even more reason to make sure the socks match and the hair is brushed before leaving the house…Ugh. If I am going to end up on QT's camera footage, I have to at least not look like a homeless girl.)

I have to say the oddest use of a camera I saw recently was in a TV commercial for a Samsung Refrigerator. Apparently, with the right appliance, you can now look into your fridge without opening the door. I am not sure how lazy YOU are, but even at the height of me not wanting to move, I can still manage to open the fridge to find out if I have milk for my cereal. In the commercial the husband calls home to find out if they need eggs. The wife (it is just an assumption on my part they were married) is actually IN the kitchen doing something but tells him she can’t check at the moment. But not to despair, he could use the Fridge AP on his PHONE to look INSIDE the refrigerator. Which he does, and what do you know, they have eggs! (Does the light come on inside when you turn the AP on??? Because it is dark in there when the door is closed, right??)

Now, I’m not gonna lie. I have been at the grocery store and wondered if I needed ketchup, or mayo or any number of things really and it would have been quite handy to look at my phone screen and see the inside of my refrigerator. But doesn’t that sound a bit creepy? Or is it just me? What if the AP messes up and you end up looking in your neighbor’s fridge? (That’s why Martha isn’t losing any weight…….Or I thought John said he was a vegetarian…Or Jenny has fallen off the wagon…..) Where will the madness end? Checking the oven to see if the cake is done? Checking the dryer to see if the clothes are ready? Oh, I know…checking the mail box to see if there is anything in there besides junk mail. THAT is an AP I would use!

And while for the most part, the hidden security or strategically placed cameras are useful and maybe even fun, sometimes they can be used for ugly and mean purposes. So we need to be careful of our surroundings and take note if something looks or feels off. One example is the new car dash cam that is growing in popularity now. The advertised purpose is to record what is going on while you are traveling to document who might have been at fault for an accident, or how a particular confrontation might have gone down. The first time I saw one, I was getting into a car recently going on a date with this guy. We had met before, but I had never been inside his car. It took me a minute to figure out what it was, and then I was just a little taken aback. Is it on all the time? Does it record our conversation? Do I need to worry how I sit? (Ok, I know that sounds bad, but seriously, who knows??) I didn’t like it. I am sure it was innocent enough, but I also realize it could be used for non-innocent things.

And while I am on the subject, let me just take a minute and say to my single friends out there, please be careful of the pictures you send through the ‘air waves’. It might sound fun and flirty. And of course everyone has to decide for themselves what to do and where their limits are. But remember, no matter what someone promises you, once the ‘send’ button is pushed; you have lost complete control over that image. I know, I sound like a mother or school marm, but I know sometimes in the moment things sound like a good idea that can end up being regretted.

Ok, enough of that! This world is a beautiful place, and all that beauty should be documented! So go out there and point, press and post! I don’t really care what you ate for dinner, but I’ll scroll through that to see the gorgeous rainbow on your way home, or the new litter of puppies, or your son’s graduation. And the next time you pull up at a gas station or go into Kohls, look up at the cameras and Smile! They will all wonder what you are up to!

Hope Out!

I Have a Size 4 Personality (Oh wait…wouldn’t a Size 10 be better?)

Ok so today I am going to address the elephant in the room.

Come on….you had to know that was coming.

If you are a female over the age of… let’s go with 15, then you have had moments of doubt about your size. Maybe they were fleeting or maybe they have followed you around for a lifetime. But most of us have fallen prey to the pesky voice in our head that told us that we were just not quite good enough. Unfortunately it is not just in our heads. The voice is also on TV, radio, magazines and the internet. We are bombarded almost daily with before-and-after shots and testimonials. There are healthy eating hacks, quick fixes, miracle pills, shape-shifter-garments, and every gym in town will tell you that it’s better to do it the old fashioned way. If there is an angle to exploit, someone has found it. The entire weight fixated industry is dedicated to making us feel that if we just lost ten more pounds we would finally be happy.

Then there are the soothers. The calm, softer voices that push back. They say you are beautiful just the way you are. Be happy with yourself. Acceptance is the buzz word to calm the madness.

So which side is right?

I think to some extent both sides are.  And honestly I don’t have anything new to add to the conversation. I could point out that a healthy lifestyle is important and will make you feel and look better. You already know that. I could list all the catch phrases for learning to love yourself. You have heard them all before. Shoot…..you have heard most of them from me right here! I see-saw with myself all the time between vowing to do better and giving myself permission to just be who I am.

So why am I taking up time and space on an over exploited topic?

Probably because of the fact that I have been invited to the first pool party of the summer! Which means I have to open the dreaded bathing suit drawer! You have one of those, right? Filled with every imaginable combination and size of bathing suit. (Or is that just me??) The ones you bought to wear only in your back yard for tanning. The pretty ones for vacation. The functional ones for outings with friends and family. The ones you bought before you had kids (or turned 40) and swear you will wear again……(not very likely…) Ok, maybe I am revealing too much information *wink*, but my point is most of us have a bipolar attitude with the way we look. One moment we are proud to have made it to ‘this age’ and can still dress up and rock it. And the next moment we are hiding in the closet swearing never to be seen in public again. It is a struggle to find the middle ground.

Here is what I think I have learned through the years.

Beauty is Abstract

I used to think that Size 4 and blonde hair was the only way to be alluring. I know….stupid. (But I’m being honest). I now understand that in this great big world we live in, beauty registers with everyone differently. The diverse cultures all over the world, and even in my own city, interpret loveliness on so many levels. Individuality grants us the freedom to be true to ourselves, and that is the greatest beauty of all. Confidence is way more intoxicating than the latest styles or makeup hacks.  I cannot truly say that I am always confident. But I can usually admit to carving my own path. As someone put it to me recently….I may not be everyone’s cup of tea…..but I am learning to be ok with that.

Beauty is More Attitude than Aptitude

Your smile is your best bling. And trust me, I know about bling. I have enough baubles and bangles and beads to decorate a gypsy camp. And while I love wearing them, they become dull and weighty if my eyes are downcast or my walk is halting. Even if we don’t always feel beautiful, we live in a beautiful world. We are loved and blessed. Your gratefulness and appreciation for these things brightens your outlook and gives you a glow. Your laughter is infectious and draws people into your circle. The size of your jeans or the brand of your shoes are insignificant when those around you feel joy in your presence. This is actually often hard for me. I am not particularly social by nature. I tend to gravitate to the outskirts of my surroundings. But I do believe it to be true. My father had the gift of laughter. He really did. And when he laughed everyone around him did too. They couldn’t help themselves. And that is a marvelous and beautiful thing.

On a side note I will also mention that on the occasions where I have had conversations with men regarding weight, size and beauty; I have been surprised to discover that most of them are not as shallow as I had wrongfully believed. I feel a little bad that I may have misjudged some, but it’s nice to know that as we get older we learn to recognize and appreciate what is important.

The bottom line for me is that integrity, decency, kindness and the size of my heart is of higher value than the size on a label tag in my clothing. However that doesn’t excuse me from living the best life I can and taking care of myself. To be sure I want to be around for a very long time. I have grandchildren to spoil and watch grow up.

I can’t wear spanx every day. And I refuse to eat flax seed and celery with every meal. So you know what that means? My personality size AND my dress size may both end up to be the same! And I will do my very best to be proud of and rock both!

Hope Out! 

Dance Like Everyone Is Watching (Because They Probably Are)

I understand this is contrary to the traditional quote that encouraged us to dance like no one is watching. (For the most part when I am dancing no one really is watching, because it usually takes place in my bedroom in front of my TV streaming YouTube videos.) Now, of course, I understand the sentiment of the original quote. Forget what people think. Be true to yourself. Find your inner joy and express it freely without fear or judgment or critique. That is all very good and sound counsel. However I would like to take it a few steps further.

In recent months I have worked at a venue that held several dance competitions for regional dance studios. During the course of these events, I have tucked away a few tidbits of dancing ‘lessons’ that I would like to translate into life ‘lessons’ and share with you. Hopefully these tidbits will encourage you to find the joy in life’s music and find your inner (and outer) Dancing Queen (or King, as the case may be.) So here we go….

#1. Pack Light = I have watched many a Dance Mom struggle with huge cases filled with all kinds of ‘stuff’. I have gone on week long vacations and did not pack as much as they bring for a one day competition. I understand the desire to be ready for anything, but really, are we EVER really ready for anything? So here is my advice. Remove the junk. We carry around things in our minds and hearts that weigh us down. Regrets. Bad decisions. Fear. Loneliness. Take them out of your life’s suitcase. They serve no purpose except to slow your forward progress. Releasing them will leave you give freedom to be graceful and get where you need to be in the NOW. Your next big performance is coming up. Hit the stage without dragging the burdens of yesterday with you.

#2. You Can Never Have Too Much Sparkle = This is my personal favorite. If you know me, then you know I am all about the sparkle! The dressing room floor after a dance competition is a sea of glitter. The lights on stage pick up the illumination, so it is glued or sewn on everything. Outfits, shoes, jewelry, hair. It even comes in a liquid form in spray bottles for the skin. (I actually have some of that. It’s awesome!) Our own personal sparkle is what sets us apart from others. It can take many forms. It can be our smile. Our kind words. The desire to listen and show compassion. A helping hand. The ability to bring light and laughter to a room. My beautiful friend Susan has the most natural internal ‘sparkle’ of anyone I have ever met. The atmosphere actually changes whenever she is around. I am forever in awe and envious of the positive energy that pours from her. So look within yourself and discover your inner sparkle. Whatever it is that ‘illuminates’ your world or those around you…..TAKE IT UP A NOTCH. You can never outshine yourself. So be glorious.

#3. Change Up Your Routine = Now THIS is my personal struggle. I am sorely a creature of habit. And not always good habits. But it is beneficial to change things up. Get out of your comfort zone. Try something new. Stretch your boundaries. When it comes to dance competitions, I know very little. But I can tell you this. The routines that use the same moves, costumes and music, even with flawless execution can become boring. When someone walks out on that stage and funks it up a little, wakes up the audience with a flash of individuality; THOSE are the performances that get the crowd excited. They might not always win a trophy, but they are the ones remembered. So go somewhere you’ve always wanted to go, learn a skill you’ve always admired, check one or two things off your bucket list.  Do something memorable.

#4. Teamwork Is Vital = Life is a team sport. I know, we don’t want to hear that. We want to be solitary soldiers marching to our own agenda. (Or is that just me??) But it truly doesn’t work that way. We need each other. If we do it right, we look out for each other. And this is really the best and most heart warming thing I discovered about the dance community; the genuine love and concern for one another. I have watched one girl miss a cue or take a spill and cost the entire group points. I braced myself for the backlash against the offender just so sure she would be shunned or scolded. But that’s not what happened, ever. As a group, they would rally to her, for her. Encourage her. Carry her off the stage. Wipe her tears. Older more experienced girls comforting the younger. Somehow the teacher had engrained in those girls the beauty and absolute necessity in being there for each other. Because at one point or another, the one in need will be YOU. Of all the things they learned, I hope that is the one thing they take with them into ‘life’. We all need a support system around us. It doesn’t have to be huge, it just has to be sincere. Make sure you can be there for someone when they miss their cue and need that encouragement.

#5. Slips Happen = This is a follow up to #4. Slips will happen. Tumbles are made. Occasionally they occur in the dressing room of life where no one ever sees. Those are easily overcome and brushed off. But sometimes, oh my dear friends, sometimes, they happen on center stage in front of your entire world. And it can feel like the worse thing ever. Unrecoverable. Devastating. What to do? Get up. Keep dancing. If you have to limp for a while, then limp. But keep dancing. Don’t quit. Don’t walk off the stage. You only have one life’s stage. You can’t abandon it. I understand the crushing weight of regret and even despair when your emotional equilibrium gives way and you crash land. But you can’t stay down. Nothing good ever happened while staying down.  So you have to pick yourself up. And keep dancing.

With the popularity of TV programs like So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing with The Stars and of course, let’s not forget Dance Moms, there is a growing interest in dancing. All kinds of dancing. I, for one, think that is super. I love the idea of taking the concept of dancing out of the late night, dark floors of clubs and making it available to the ageless masses that just love to feel the music and move.

Dancing is one of the world’s best stress relievers. You can’t be upset or anxious when the music really touches you. I highly recommend it. Even if it is when no one is watching. But never let it stop you if they are.

 We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. ~Japanese Proverb

The Big Dance Floor of Life is waiting for you. Go put on your best sparkle!

Hope Out!

What is 51 - 38 (Remedial Dating)

13. The answer is 13. And this simple equation is relevant because that is the age difference in years between me and this guy I recently went out with. (Let’s call him Brad)

And no, I am not, nor have any designs on becoming, a cougar. I have too much insecurity, wrinkle face cream products and cover-the-grey hair dye to try and compete with girls in my daughter’s generation. What’s more, I do not have the patience.

Call me old fashioned, but I never really understood the whole cougar thing anyway. Plus why is it a ‘thing’ when it is an older woman? Older men date younger all the time. It is applauded and high-fived. It is typically seen as a win-win for both parties. Yet when the trend crossed over the gender line it suddenly had to be explained. It couldn’t just ‘happen’, there had to be reason. So after careful research ‘they’ decided to label the older woman a ‘cougar’. Which by definition is a reclusive, territorial wild animal that is an ambush predator........I don’t tend to get insulted easily ......

but really??

   

However I did in fact go out with him…..and here is how it started….and ended.

I am being honest here, even though parts of the story may sound condescending on my part. I apologize in advance for what may appear to be patronization. 

Contrary to my previous declarations, I am still on a dating website. One day a few months ago I received an email from Brad. Immediately I did notice his age. Now this is not the first time I have received an email from a significantly younger guy. But most of them are actually more of the ‘wild animal ambush predator’ type then I have ever thought about being……If you know what I mean. (This is a family friendly blog after all.) But Brad was different.

His email was well written. Thought out. A little self-deprecating, but still sweet. His pictures were of his passion in life; drag racing. (And not one bathroom selfie, which to this day makes my head hurt when I see one. I am right up there when it comes to the annoying tendency of selfies; but with my shower curtain as a witness, I have NEVER taken one in the bathroom. But I digress…)

Brad’s email seemed sincere and his profile was old school charming. So I wrote back. Mostly as a polite gesture. I did not see myself dating someone that much younger. Mind you, I have no problem ignoring stupid or suggestive emails. But his was neither. We had a few exchanges and to make a long blog short, I did eventually agree to meet him.

   

Honestly, however, my goal in meeting him was to ‘set him straight’. He seemed like a great guy and I thought he was just mis-guided and on the wrong path. In my vast knowledge on this subject (please, please note the sarcasm), I was convinced if we met and he saw and experienced all of my “51-ishness” (I love how writing my own blog gives me creative grammar license), then he would turn tail and run. My anti-cougar would be painfully obvious and the situation would resolve itself. He could resume his search for a nice young girl his own age.

We decided to meet for dinner. I will admit that I felt a little awkward; like it would appear I was having dinner with my son. In reality he was more mature looking and even cuter than in his pictures.  I don’t think the age difference was that apparent, I was just overly sensitive. This was, after all, my maiden voyage going backwards down the birth date scale. But I actually had a good time. Imagine that! He was smart and very funny. In fact, despite everything, I will give the boy props for being hilarious!

After dinner, as he walked me to my car, I made the first of probably a few fatal errors. I admitted to him my original thought process going in; to prove to him that he didn’t really want to date someone like me. I did follow quickly with the honest revelation however that I really enjoyed myself. (One of the quirks of my personality as I have gotten older is I am more apt to speak what comes to mind. My filter has worn out somewhat.) I do think he was a little taken aback by my honesty. But he rallied and still asked me out for a second date. We made plans to see each other again. 

We actually went out a fair amount. I even met his parents. I experienced, for the first time, drag racing and learned the definition of a ‘back up girl’. He was thoughtful and a gentleman. A bit old fashioned, but that fit with some of my ideals and background too. Despite all my reservations about dating someone younger, I found myself starting to like him.

Yet I was still self conscious. I obsessed just a little too much about the age thing. (I tend to be my own worst enemy.) I don’t really know how much that played in the demise, but slowly things changed. It happens. I discovered details about his life that explained some of his decisions and thought processes. His inexperience in the relationship/emotional arena was evident. Communication became an issue. Until finally one day he just walked away.

It stung a little. It was also a bit humbling. I was so sure I was going to ‘teach him a thing or two’. Truth be told, I was the one schooled. But it’s all good. There are times we need to be reminded that regardless of our age or perceived maturity, if we are open and willing, we can still learn and grow. Every relationship, no matter how brief or even doomed, can teach us something.

When all was said and done, I do not think it was an age difference as much as a personality difference that did us in. But it did reconfirm my position that I tend to be more the ambushee than the ambusher. Which I guess at the end of the day is better. Maybe…

So since it IS almost summer and school will be out soon, I will forgo any more complicated arithmetic. 

I will just stick with the simple… 1 + 1 = ……..2.

Hope Out

The Truth.....As Lived By My Momma

Today is Mother’s Day. The 9th one without my mother; Alma Suis.

This is one my favorite pictures of her. Not because of the photo quality or the background. Not because it was a special occasion. But because of her smile. We were sitting in her living room. I believe someone was playing her piano. I don’t remember who was there. All I remember is that smile.

My mother told me my entire life that God sent me here to take care of her. I didn’t do such a great job at first, but when I finally grew up, with everything in me, I tried my best to do right by her. But truth be told, she took care of me. In more ways than I can count.

Alma Suis was born on January 1^st, 1921. The year of the Great Depression. For her little family that reality hit way before the rest of the world caught on. Their struggle actually WAS real. The impact of her early years carved personal truths that she carried with her the rest of her life. Truths that she lived by and passed on along to her children. Three of which I would like to share with you today.  

#1 God Is The Answer

Regardless of the question, God is the answer. When I lived at home, I woke up to the sounds of her praying every morning. Not repetition, read off a wall prayer. Real, earnest, heartfelt, “I’m talking to GOD” prayers. Billy Graham cannot pray any better than my momma could. She prayed for everyone in our family; calling each of us out by name. She prayed about everything, teaching us all to pray too.  It was moving and humbling to accidently eavesdrop on her conversations with God. She never wavered. The cancer came, again and again. She prayed. My father passed. She prayed. The Christian example and heritage she exhibited every day is one I fall extremely short of, but is also one I am so incredibly proud and thankful to have experienced. I shudder at the thought of where I would be today had it not been for her prayers. Even now I am confident that although I am not sure how Heaven works, she has found an audience with the Almighty and our names are still presented before Him; every day.  

# 2 The Unspeakable Can Make You Unbreakable

My mother saw and experienced things as a child that would break your heart. And when presented with these challenges, some people turn bitter and resentful. They spend their lives trying to ‘make up’ for what they lost, or get what they deserve. She was just simply thankful. Thankful to have made it through and found a way, with the help of my father, to get out of that situation and have a wonderful and productive life. She was a survivor and she instilled quiet strength and determination in each of us. She taught me to not let obstacles sideline me. To push through when it hurt. To appreciate every day and make something out of it. To learn from my mistakes or mistakes of others and move forward. She taught me to never give up.   

 #3 Create Something Beautiful

I don’t know if it was a result of her drab and sparse upbringing, but my mother loved beauty. Not a vain type of beauty, but an appreciation for beauty. She loved her flower beds. My momma would work in her yard and her flowers for hours. She had immaculate flower beds all around the house. She always had the best yard in the neighborhood. She also loved to quilt and could take scraps of material and turn them into beautiful tapestries. I have one hanging on my wall today. She actually even enjoyed creating music and played the guitar!

She actually turned this love of making things beautiful into a career. She was a Beautician. As long as I can remember she had a beauty shop in her home. I grew up on the laps of her customers as they read  books to me while sitting under the dryer. She loved her ‘ladies’ and worked in her shop right up until the end. In the weeks before she passed the only thing that brought her comfort was to take her to her shop and let her comb someone’s hair. It was so much a part of her that even though she didn’t know who we were, or maybe even who she was, she knew that she could still help make someone beautiful. Those of us who sat in that chair and let her repeatedly run the comb through our hair had our hearts break and swell at the same time. It was at the core of who she was.

I know today will be a day of many memories and posts and pictures of all the wonderful loving and beautiful moms in our lives. And that is awesome. There is not a one size fits all mold for motherhood. We all have to forge our own paths and do what we think is best. Some do better than others. I know for a few, today does not bring forth memories of happy times. For you, I grieve and am sorry.

For the rest, I join you in the joy of celebrating our mothers. If you are like me, the full appreciation of what that means did not come until adulthood was reached and/or we became mothers ourselves.   

I am truly thankful and grateful for my mother. Anything good that I am today is a direct result of her love and commitment and unconditional support of me. There are not enough words or blog posts to adequately express my feelings for her and the void she created when she moved to Heaven.

I love you Momma.  

Hope Out

The Old And The Restless (Where’s Victor When You Need Him?)

I have been on an unintentional self imposed hiatus (Did you miss me?) I missed me… I mean, I missed you too!

I will just be honest here, I am not sure what happened. I was rolling along. Having a fun time writing and sharing.  Much appreciative of the positive feedback. Then the words just stopped coming.

Someone suggested that putting my emotional and personal hiccups on paper made them tangible and absolute. Displaying my life made me feel vulnerable and exposed. Sure it did. That’s sorta the purpose of a blog, right?

That could have been some of it for sure. Most of the stories and recollections had settled back into my memory as learning experiences or humorous antidotes. Resurrecting them may have triggered an emotional response similar to a scene from The Walking Dead.

I also had someone mention that I ‘missed my calling’. Which in reality was a sweet and generous compliment for which I am humbled. In less secure moments though that statement sounds vaguely like ‘Boy you sure did mess up and waste all that time.’ TIME….it just sneaks up on us doesn’t it. One day you are young and vibrant and feel like you can conquer the world.  Then you take just a few little naps and one or two spins around the sun and wham, you feel lucky to conquer the check-out line at Wal Mart.

I have never considered the concept of my life as transitional. Young/Middle Age/Old. I just enjoyed what each day offered while looking forward to what tomorrow held as well. Then suddenly I was obsessed with becoming old; looking old; acting old. Having to surrender my Achievement Card for an AARP Card. The face staring back at me in the mirror was slowly transforming into something less colorful with fewer sparkles. More drab or even tired, including wrinkles none the less! Yikes! It’s the great conundrum of life. You don’t want to grow old! But you DO want to grow old.

I think I had a mini ‘the fun is over’ spell. Started feeling restless and insignificant; irrelevant. Now..….don’t everyone start sending me messages about how silly I’m being or how great my life is. I KNOW my life is great. I am so incredibly blessed beyond words. I just had a moment (that stretched out for a few weeks). YOU have moments, right? (I can’t be the only one….) I just had to accept the fact that the Fountain of Youth does not spring forth out of Table Rock. (That’s a local tourist attraction.)

And in reality I also had to accept that some things just didn’t work out the way I wanted them to. Relationships. Finances. Decisions. Even Family. We don’t always get what we think we want or even deserve. Maybe that is ok. It has to be ok. I dare say that much of what we believe would be wonderful and exciting might actually end up being harmful or just plain wrong for us. We certainly are the product of our decisions, but I also believe that God moves us along on the path that brings us to the best destination possible. I know I resist this path sometimes. That is just the truth, I do. So for right now, my challenge is to recognize this is my spot on the path. And I’m going to OWN this spot! So enough of the mulligrubs! (This was one of my mom’s favorite words and it wasn’t in spell check…go figure.)

Part of owning this spot is a return to the writing. Because at the end of the day even if I don’t think I have anything to say, maybe if I dismiss the nonsense and quiet the disconcerting voices, it will come back.

So whatever the cause for the pause, I have determined to start again. I will admit my biggest fear in starting a blog would be to let it fade away. Get busy. Get side tracked. Lose my focus. Just stop. And I did not want to be seen as a quitter. You know the best way to not be seen as a quitter? 

Don’t quit!

So this is me not quitting……

Hope Out!

How To Be A Butterfly (And Skip The Worm Part)

I recently came across a profound statement that I want to share with you. While I cannot confirm the sentiment of the original author, I have a few thoughts of my own to share.

A Flower does not know it is Beautiful…..but the Butterfly does.

My mother was a true lover of flowers. She worked meticulously on her gardens. She had a rose garden and an azalea garden and intermingled among them all were pansies and petunias and zinnias and begonias and marigolds and geraniums and why am I listing out all those types of flowers? Because each one is different…..in form, in height, in color, in texture, in needs. Just like US! And each one is beautiful and fragrant and alluring and has a purpose. Just like US! But sometimes we forget that. We forget just how totally awesome we are. Why is that?

We are bombarded almost daily with lists on social media or the internet:

               (5) Hints To Looking Younger

               (4) Ways to Dress Slimmer

               (3) Tips for A Great Smile

               (2) Items Every Woman Needs

This usually all adds up to

      (1)    Insecure, Anxious, Paranoid Woman! (Or is this just me??)

We are all under a lot of pressure to be ‘more’. Whether it is prettier, thinner, successful, neater, youthful, faster, cooler, richer; we seldom feel that we measure up to whatever the standard is. But who sets the standard? And who is actually keeping score? I think we keep our own tally, and score on the low side!

We truly do not understand or accept our true worth. We cannot see ourselves as a beautiful flower. That is where the butterfly comes in. It is the butterfly who appreciates all the flower has to offer.

I believe it is vital that we as women become someone’s butterfly. The world today wants to put us at odds with each other. In competition with each other. Sometimes we try harder to impress our girlfriends than our boyfriends. That is so destructive and serves no real purpose. There are enough outside forces that will shake our courage. Daily struggles that weigh us down. We simply cannot then look at other women as opponents to beat out. Ok, look, I’m not trying to sound all feministic. (I wasn’t sure if that was a word, but my grammar check didn’t highlight it.) This really isn’t about ‘girl power’. It’s about FRIEND power, and how important that is.

I have had my own personal butterfly now for over thirty years. She has been one of my best friends since junior high school. This is the girl, who even when we liked the same guy in high school, let me cry on her shoulder when he dumped me, listened to me rant and rail and obsess as only adolescent girls can (ok, maybe adult ‘girls’ too). She has never failed me. And even though our paths have gone in separate directions, whenever we do get together or talk on the phone, we pick right back up where we left off. She knows me and accepts me for EXACTLY who and how I am. (Thank you Beverly!) How totally incredible is that?

Ultimately I know we have to believe in ourselves. We cannot depend on someone else to constantly build us up. But I would like to challenge every one reading this today to become a butterfly. Find a flower. Any flower. It can be a familiar flower. Or a stranger flower. Just budding, or one seasoned in the sun. It doesn’t matter. Find a flower, fly every so wistfully around it and let that flower know just how totally magnificent and lovely it (she) is.

I promise you if we all did this, every day, the world would suddenly become a much more radiant and fragrant place…..one flower and butterfly at a time.

Hope Out