21 Days of Love

In the last few weeks I have been stressed out, freaked out and on the edge of causing bodily harm to everyone in my path. There is a whole battery of excuses that I could give for my edgy behavior and a number of apologies that I could, should, and have made (excluding U-Haul, I don't regret anything I said or did there!!) Here are a few standard excuses I like:

--Red Hair (a fun one to cop to whenever squeaky and irrational screaming is involved)
--Being Broke (this is a simple catch-all excuse for any number of things AND is entirely true)
--Moving makes me crazy (also a known fact)
--Being Tired (another handy blanket excuse)

That said, I know as well as everyone that hatred and violence only breed more of the same, and I have crappy health insurance and can't afford the collateral damage. So how does one quell the rage within? Well, love of course. Hmm..........and whom should I love? I could go the Miss America route here and say "everyone" but, that would be lame and difficult to measure, so I'll pick the future Mr. Purlygrl. That has a nice ring to it doesn't it?

According to conventional internet knowledge (I couldn't find a real consensus within the framework of actual psychological research) it takes 21 days to make and/or break a habit. So, with the wisdom of ask.com behind me, I will forge forward with 21 days of love. For the next 21 days I will do something loving for my sweetheart every day. I firmly believe that love is not a feeling (feelings are for sissies), it is an action, a choice, something we live, something we DO.

Thus today was day 1.

Day 1: Woke up early and made breakfast for my sweetie. I'm sure you wonder why this is loving? If you ever lived with me you would understand. Mornings and I have a very tenuous relationship, one largely associated with loathing, grunts and hostility. I simply don't understand morning AT ALL. Why is there morning? Why would anyone wake up before 10? Why do people talk to me before I've had coffee? Why am I expected to be nice before noon? All of these great questions factor into my disinterest in having breakfast with ANYONE at any time prior to 11ish. Still, my love wishes to have breakfast together and has made the request on numerous occasions and so my first act of love was to get up early and make breakfast for him. Funny thing is that it was actually kind of nice (except for the morning part.)

You Can't Make This Shit Up #5--The Legman

It's almost laughable how many jobs I've worked over the past few years. In fact, half the time it is downright hilarious, the other half............well, that makes for less cheeky blog commentary. I really am not a transient, a hobo or a gypsy. I'm just a highly educated broad trying to eat AND have health insurance........and yeah, I'm crazy enough to dream big and want both of those things at the same time. So, yes, I've made yet another fascinating career change. I now work at a cemetery. What do you do, you may ask? Well, sales of course.

Which is how I met this interesting fellow. Now at first blush, this should be a sad story. A seventy-something man and his wife make an appointment to pre-arrange his funeral because he is dying. We spent hours in our mausoleum discussing the merits of ground burial vs. above ground entombment. Mr. Wentworth needed an oxygen tank to breathe and his wife appeared to be on the edge of tears off and on. There was lengthy discussion about the older unwed sister of his wife and their daughter, whom they may also purchase cemetery property for. It is a belabored and emotional Monday morning that ultimately left the couple exhausted and needing time to talk. We decided to break for lunch, I would call to schedule their next appointment later.

After a couple of days I called to set the next appointment. Mr. Wentworth answered the phone in a belabored and breathy voice, which could have simply been related to the oxygen tank, but in time I grew to re-interpret. (What follows here is and abridged and slightly watered down version of the conversation, the things he actually said would make a sailor blush and I don't care to repeat verbatim.)

Mr. Wentworth: I just have to tell you, you have the most amazing legs I've ever seen.
Purlygrl: Uh......
Mr. Wentworth: It's all I've been able to think about since we left the other day.
Purlygrl: ............Silence
Mr. Wentworth: I've always been a leg man, and I've got to tell you, you just have the sexiest legs I've ever seen. If I were a few years younger you'd be in trouble.
Purlygrl: .....more painful silence.......... (Also important to note that this last comment is VERY wishful thinking on his part.)
Mr. Wentworth: [at this point he continues to digress, we'll move forward]

It's important to note that at this point roughly 28% of me was willing to consider the possibility that Mr. Wentworth was on some sort of heavy opiate painkiller and wasn't fully cognisant of what he was saying. That is until...........

Purlygrl: (awkwardly) Ah, so, the reason I called was to set up that follow up appointment. Would next Monday at the same time be good for you and MRS. WENTWORTH?
Mr. Wentworth: I don't know, my wife isn't home right now. You don't think I'd be talking to you like this if she were home do you?

.....And the morphine explanation goes out the window with Mrs. Wentworth's dignity...........

On a subsequent conversation he detailed his hopes that he might die in his sleep dreaming of me and of course my lovely legs. In the end the Wentworth's bought three mausoleum spaces, and a second right of internment, which resulted in a pretty healthy commission for me.

I'm not so naive or puritanical that I am really all that shocked or horrified by men behaving this way. I really get it, men are pigs. When I was a waitress, a bartender, even a clerk I encountered guys like this, but this one takes the cake. In my wildest dreams it never occurred to me that a dying man would behave this way while buying, of all things, his own crypt. Honestly, you just can't make this shit up.

You Can't Make This Shit Up #4: Makeup Madness

For almost two years now I've been working in cosmetics doing sales and makeup artistry. I've moved on to another endeavor so now I feel comfortable sharing some of my quirkier stories about my clients. This little gem is nothing short of crazy. In fact, that is what I intend to call her.

So one day a perfectly average housewife walks up to the counter and starts examining the lipsticks. Weirdly, lipstick appears to be the most difficult decision women make. Otherwise intelligent and capable women who make hundreds of critical decisions at work and home each day are utterly flabbergasted by lipstick. As a salesperson this can be a grueling and unfruitful sale that can suck up an hour of your time for a $22.00 sale, resulting in your inevitable frustration and a whopping $.66 commission. Thus, I developed a foolproof system to speed the sale along AND sell them something else.

The first thing you have to do is get the woman away from the display unit filled with over a hundred colors of lipstick in 4 formulas. This is too complicated, too much choice. You have her sit down and ask her questions. What is the lipstick for? What will it be worn with? Where will she wear it? Is this an everyday choice or something for evening? What kinds of colors do you already like and wear? You keep asking questions until you can narrow it down to 3 lipsticks to show her and you choose the appropriate liner, don't even ask about that, it's too complicated. Once she is presented with just three choices the decision is fairly easy and you put the one she likes on her. While she is sitting there you throw on a little blush to match it, maybe touch up her eyeshadow and eyeliner and then have her look in the mirror. Presto! She looks lovely, she buys the lipstick, liner and lip gloss and wow, that blush looks great, she gets that too. This technique works nearly every time and thus it was always my practice to use it.

And so I did, not knowing that this woman was crazy. Having someone validate every one of her bizarre lipstick concerns opened the door for what was tantamount to a therapy session. What she would really like is to be the prettiest woman in the room, but not look like she tried too hard to be that way. She wants the makeup to not be recognizable as makeup and yet significantly alter her appearance. Because certainly I must know how it feels to be a woman, constantly being judged and compared and held to an unreasonable standard. After all when you walk in a room everyone is really staring at you even if they don't appear to be. She then paused to let me know how connected she felt to me. "You must be an angel. I just know it."

She had left home that afternoon in an uproar over some emotional upset that apparently involved all members of her family and somehow I understood her. Of course truth be told the only thing that I did understand about our bizarre encounter was that this woman was incredibly insecure, borderline paranoid and had strange intimacy issues that involved her glomming onto perfect strangers at cosmetics counters. She proceeded to buy a lipstick and liner totaling $43.00, which in her view was some sort of wild rebellion that would teach her husband a lesson. As an added bonus, she became a regular customer and our therapy sessions became a regular part of my routine.

What's funny really is that she is representative of an entire group of strange women. There are all kinds of crazies out there. Needy women who seek the council of a makeup artist instead of their neighborhood bartender as the good lord intended............ honestly, you just can't make this shit up.

Stepmonster

Nobody wakes up one day and says, "You know what would make my life complete? I think I should become a crackhead, a garbage man, a substitute teacher OR a step-parent." I've been a substitute teacher, thank God I haven't been a crackhead or a garbageman and I'm soon to become a step-parent. The question that is surely on every one's mind (including mine) is, "WHY?"

As far as I can tell it is a largely thankless job that includes all the same duties and tasks without the influential decision-making power of a "real" parent. Other added "perks" include your being the scapegoat to blame for the parents not getting back together and the extreme awkwardness of all school plays, soccer games, graduations and weddings. And then there is always the fun of the influence of the "baby mama or baby daddy" on your family. Somehow a person who was once the love of your partner's life magically transforms into a heinous troll whose main goal in life is to make everything complicated and everyone miserable.

That said, at nearly 40% of weddings at least one member of the bridal couple has been married before. Furthermore, 70% of marriages that involve stepchildren fail. So why do we do it? Sentimental saps and wise sages will likely say the same thing.........love, hope and the human tendency toward coupling. We all know from the moment that we engage in any relationship with another human being that there are infinite possible outcomes. A stranger on the street could be a serial killer or a saint, a potential friend or foe. Every interaction shapes who we are and how we behave in our world, and yet most of us are likely to hope that the person has the potential for good. As creatures humans are actually quite hopeful and I find that to be our most fascinating trait.

People aren't numbers or astrological charts or actuary tables, they are complicated, intricate and infinitely variable. Thus, human relationships are difficult to isolate statistically. My ex-husband and I passed all the "tests", we were a statistical marvel. We were spaced appropriately in age, had dated for the optimal amount of time, had compatible personality types, and astrological forecasts, passed premarital counseling with flying colors and we even married under nearly optimal religious and astrological circumstances and our marriage still failed. It just isn't a numbers game. The heart and soul of the whole thing gets lost sometimes in the aftermath once the bomb goes off.

Marriages don't fail because someone was too young, or because it was a "shotgun wedding" or any number of other over-simplified excuses. The truth is that at some point, for whatever combination of what are most likely a series of overlapping and complicated reasons, one or both people give up, check out, quit or run away. It's easy to pass judgement, assign blame and assume the position of martyr, victim, or hero, but at the end of the day, for those of us who've lived it and are honest with ourselves we know it simply isn't that simple. When it comes to divorce everyone loses................and maybe that is part of why we remarry. We all want to win, we all want to love and be loved, and on the whole humans are at best serial monogamists.

I have no data to support my belief that I can be a good step-parent. My parents were married and still are and all of their siblings are the same. There had been no divorce in either side of my family for over 2 generations prior to my divorce, therefore I have no frame of reference for stepparenthood whatsoever. I liken it to moving to a country where I am unfamiliar with the customs. At times I commit serious infractions without ever knowing why or how. I always feel as if I only knew the customs I would have been able to blend in just fine, but sadly now I have just made a mess of things.

My aunt once lived in Indonesia, where it is customary to shake hands using your left hand rather than your right. This doesn't seem like such a complicated thing, but Americans are quite accustomed to our right-handedness with this custom. So what if one forgets and offers the wrong hand? The problem is that manners and customs are usually not without reason. In that country toilet paper is a luxury for affluent families and thus the custom is to wipe oneself in the bathroom with your right hand. Even though the hand is washed, it is understood that the left hand is decidedly cleaner and more appropriate to offer to a friend. Imagine the horror if someone were to offer their right hand! Thus, in the country of Stepmonsterland a simple photo with Santa or a trip to the zoo could be unknowing cause for great horror and offense.

Thus I have decided to accept that I am an immigrant in a foreign land. I will try to learn the customs of the people here, but I also know that I have a contribution to make. I may never be able to join the DAR, but really, what have they done for the common good anyway?

Love on a Bicycle

I've never believed that we only have one love in life. I just don't think it's possible, in part because I don't think love stops when life moves forward. I still love everyone I've ever loved no matter how great or small that love was. The love may have shifted and changed form, but I think love is like matter. It can't really be created or destroyed. I suspect that when we "fall in love" we are just becoming aware of something that has always been and always will be. I've fallen in love in kindergarten, in History class, in marching band, on vacation, at a kitchen table and most recently on a bicycle.

I suppose my first love (if you want to call it that) was in kindergarten. I was so smitten that with some spelling advice from my mother I wrote the poor chap a love letter. Of course I failed to consider that he might not be able to read the note and much to my horror he took the letter to the teacher to read it to him.

In eighth grade there was a boy with unnerving confidence and floppy blond hair who sat near me in history class. I LIVED for history class, I was in awe of everything about him, even though I knew absolutely nothing and as best I can recall never even spoke to him.............

My high school sweetheart was in the marching band with me, and a talented musician and songwriter even at the age of fifteen. He saw (and still sees) the world through different eyes than the rest of us and his creativity and quirky sensibilities were absolutely intoxicating.

I met my ex-husband on a family vacation. He was the first person I'd met outside of art class who had ever heard of the Pieta and actually loved Shakespeare. We were the best of friends and had the most amazing conversations from the moment we met and for 10 years after that.

I never dreamed the story would continue, but divorce has a funny way of opening the heart to new loves and so I fell in love over dirty dishes and half empty bottles of wine sitting at a kitchen table.

Then one day I started biking with a new friend I'd met along the way. We rode 22 miles round trip every Monday for weeks on end and we talked and laughed about everything. Somewhere along the way we fell in love, and my dear friend became so much more to me. We became so close on that bike path, he is the only person I've ever known who I trust enough to share everything without reservation. I can say anything at all and it will be okay. It all sort of snuck up on me and was even a little startling. And then, even more to my surprise, I fell in love again, this time with his daughter. This past Christmas he asked me to be his wife and I said, "Yes."

So, of all the places to fall in love, so far a bicycle has been my favorite :-) And although I believe that we have many loves in our lifetime, I also believe that there can be one who holds the special distinction of being the love of your life. I hope that the new loves in my life will all grow out of this love, and that is what makes this one the love of my life.

20 Things I Believe

1. There are queen bees and worker bees, I am a queen bee and I've made my peace with that.
2. I'm exceedingly laid back about 70% of things, but ridiculously anal about the remaining 30%.
3. In my presence, for your own health and well being, I highly advise you to use a coaster.
4. I can't stand helpless, needy women.
5. I am even more repulsed by helpless, needy men.
6. I believe with all my heart and soul that a high quality free public education is essential to American democracy and in the past has been the foundation upon which our greatness has been built.
7. Knitting is magical.
8. I should do more yoga and drink less coffee.
9. I've learned to never say never. Nearly everything I said I'd never do or experience has happened.
10. There are many things I could give up, but I honestly can't imagine life without cheese.
11. I am convinced that the biological clock is a cruel joke. I never dreamed I'd want kids, or that wanting them could absorb so much of my mental energy.
12. The people in my life are amazingly wonderful and what is even more incredible is that the longer I'm on this planet the more wonderful people enter my life.
13. I can't believe I'm going to be a stepmother and I'm a little overwhelmed because I have NO idea how to do that job well.
14. The best days are the ones I start out grounded in gratitude, the worst are the ones when I'm feeling sorry for myself.
15. I hate winter with a fiery passion that grows stronger every year.
16. I've learned that people always meet my expectations. When I expect someone to let me down, they usually do, and when I expect great things, I usually get great things.
17. I'm glad my mother had the wisdom to turn off the TV and read to me.
18. Creativity is one of the greatest privileges of being human.
19. Laughter, though, must be the single greatest human ability.
20. Love really is the answer.