Mad Cat July 26, 2011

My cat is upset. I’m not sure what it’s about, but I’m clear that she is pissed. And how do I know this? She is urinating outside of the litter box. She has NEVER done this before, but in the past 3 weeks, she has indicated she is “pissed” in a two different places. I’m not exactly sure how to address this, since, although I am able to distinguish between a “my dish is empty” kind of meow, and a “scratch my ears” meow, I am not fluent in cat-speak and I refuse to take her to a counselor.

I, myself, don’t like confrontation. (At this very moment there are family members and close friends falling off their chairs at that statement…) OK…I generally don’t like confrontation. There are lots of times that I’ve been upset and haven’t addressed it. Lots of times when the “offender” goes without ever knowing they’ve offended me. I may get quiet (there they go….falling off their chairs again…), while my insides twist in knots and my blood pressures shoots up, but I often hold my upset inside. I’m starting to think that may be why my clothes don’t fit anymore and my face is so much fuller. I’m swelling from all this contained upset!

This can’t be good for my health. So I’m thinking my cat has the right idea. There is no denying that she is upset. And….it is completely up to me (the offender) to figure out what the problem is and remedy it, or pay the price. She doesn’t seem to hold a grudge- she still curls up on my lap as always, still plays with her toys…. It seems that once she’s “expressed” her upset, she if free to go about her day unaffected. That seems to me a lot healthier than self-destructing from the inside out by holding it all inside.

Well, that’s it then. The next time I feel upset, I think I’ll wait until the offender is out of the room and “get it out of my system” somewhere on their personal property. Let them figure out what the problem is.

Where Are You, John Quiñones? July 14, 2011

I kept looking over my shoulder for John Quiñones.  I was absolutely certain I was in the middle of one of ABC’s Primetime: What Would You Do? episodes. Unfortunately, I was not, and John Quiñones was not going to come out from around the corner to tell me it was all a set-up.

I decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way home from work.  It was after the busy lunch hour and before dinner so there were not a lot of customers in the restaurant. I was sitting alone in a booth, facing the door –rather, NOT facing the other patrons (when there is no one on the other side of the booth to “block” you, no matter what you do, you look like you are staring at the other diners).  I was about half-way through my mixed greens with a squeeze of lemon juice (yea, right…) when a couple came through the door.  A big, handsome, yet burly man (in fact, the guy looked just like Burl Ives-or at least like the snowman he played in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer….but I digress…..) and the woman accompanying him sat a few booths away, between me and the door.  She took the seat with her back to me and he and I were facing each other.  I tried moving over in my booth, so that her head directly blocked his face from my gaze. It’s not like I was trying to “gaze”; he was the only thing in front of me. It was either look at him or look at my “mixed greens”. Truth be told, the guy had a pretty big head.  He could eyeball me (and I him) no matter how far I moved. 

Aaaaaaaaaanyhow………………….. I never heard the woman speak.  He, however, seemed the jovial sort, joking with the waitresses, and patting some little kids on the head as they were leaving. I got the impression he was a regular here. The couple placed their order, after which the gentleman (and I use the term lightly) turned to the waitress. 

“Could you please tell my wife she looks STUPID?” 

Apparently, as he explained to the waitress, he had just picked her up from the beauty salon, where in an attempt to “cover the gray”, she opted to go blonde (something she’d always wanted to do). The waitress gave “Burl” a friendly swat with her order pad, smiled and left.  With that, the verbal barrage began.

“You never listen to me.  I will not be seen in public with you after this.  You look like a hooker.”

OK.  He’s GOT to be teasing her………she doesn’t look anything like a hooker………but then again,  how would I know…….I’ve never really seen one in person……that I know of…………and I don’t see her shoulders moving like they should if she was laughing……………..his tone doesn’t sound so funny either…….. 

“Look at your face! Did you even LOOK in the mirror? Have you seen what you look like?”   Why don’t you shave off your eyebrows and put paint all over your face?  You might as well…..you couldn’t look any worse anyway……”

OK, Mr. Quiñones…….fun’s over……………. Come out, come out wherever you are………………………….

The barrage continued relentlessly. If I had a nickel for every time Burl told this poor woman she looked stupid (or worse), I could finally send away for that KYMARO New Body Shaper I’ve been wanting to try http://tinyurl.com/6rr6kl .  Burl called 2 other waitresses over so that they could tell the woman she looked “Butt Ugly”. Luckily, they did not comply…just shook their heads and refilled her ice tea. Thank God I had already finished my “mixed greens with a squeeze of lemon”, because my appetite was gone.  And my ire was front and center.  I paid my bill, gathered my things, and headed towards the couple. 

“Excuse me…. I just wanted to tell you that I think your hair is beautiful,” I told the watery-eyed woman as I passed.

“She looks UGLY as HELL!” piped in Burly Boy. Wow.  He didn’t even hesitate in front of company.

That’s it. “Have you ever seen the show What Would You Do?, sir?

 “Yeah?”

“Well, I’ve been sitting over there waiting for John Quiñones to come busting through the door telling me that you are just an actor, because I can’t believe anybody would really treat another person this way.”  I even surprised myself.

The watery-eyed, newly-blonde woman reached for my hand. 

“I don’t know who you are, but I love you,” she said with a faint smile.

Burly Boy and Blondie and I ended up talking for another 10 minutes or so.  (I’m just relieved he didn’t punch me.) Actually, I played Dr. Phyllis for 10 minutes. All those years of therapy finally put to good use! I think B.B. was a tiny bit ashamed of himself in the end. He told his wife to give me his business card, asked me to sit with them so he could buy me an ice cream.  Then he gave me 2 free movie passes. Really?!  I passed on the ice cream, and suggested he use the tickets to take his wife out since she looked so pretty (though I did have another idea about what he could do with them).

When I left them, she was smiling. 

Maybe he won’t change.  Maybe she’ll pay for my interference later-in private- though I pray that’s not the case.  My wish is for him to look past her hair just once….and see her heart.

Well….now I know the answer to What Would You Do?.  For all the time’s I could have used a stranger’s interference….I’d do it again. 

But next time….I’ll take the ice cream.

Turning Blue July 12, 2011

I told him before he left that I would not be able to make it. We discussed that, just recently having committed to a new part-time job, I wouldn’t be able to rearrange my schedule; that it was a lot of money for a very short ceremony. We both agreed I would not go.

OK. Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m missing this event in my kid’s life. I may be a less-than-perfect mother in some ways (ok…a LOT of ways….) but I have ALWAYS tried to be there for my son, attending cross-country meets (that’s dedication, right? I mean- you watch them leave and you wait for them to come back- usually in the rain), school concerts (in which- no lie- he played ONE NOTE in ONE SONG- See http://lifeonhysterialane.wordpress.com/?s=Johnny+one+note ), listening to devastating breakup stories, etc. It’s been just the two of us for so long. How could I miss this? He’s TURNING BLUE. I have to be there.

He’s not “turning blue” as in holding his breath until I change my mind. Turning Blue is the ceremony during which my son will receive his Infantry Blue Cord, which represents his completion of Infantry Advanced Individual Training. During the ceremony, family and friends (in other words, HIS MOTHER) will be given the opportunity to pin the Infantry Blue Cord onto the shoulder of his dress uniform, distinguishing him as an Infantryman. A short, but meaningful ceremony which I am now DETERMINED to attend.

So…… I’ve already changed my schedule and started planning the Bake Sale/Car Wash I’ll be holding to raise the extra funds needed for the trip. It may cost me $1000.00 and 20 hours of travel time for this 10 minute ceremony, but I have to be there. For me as much as for him.

Oh, sure. I’ve pinned things on him before. (Like the flooding of the upstairs bathroom for one….I supposed it is possible that I was the one who left the faucet on…..but I digress……) I’ve pinned notes on him intended for his Kindergarten teacher, and I’ve pinned mittens to his winter coats so they wouldn’t get lost and his hands wouldn’t be cold. But the Infantry Cord?

“Infantrymen are soldiers who are specifically trained for the role of fighting on foot to engage the enemy face to face and have historically borne the brunt of the casualties of combat in wars. As the oldest branch of combat arms, they are the backbone of armies. Infantry units have more physically demanding training than other branches of armies, and place a greater emphasis on discipline, fitness, physical strength and aggression.”
It’s funny, isn’t it? He’ll be the one “Turning Blue”, and I’ll be the one holding my breath……

Christmas in July July 11, 2011

There is a star on President Obama’s head. If I lean a little to the right, I can see the purple ball earring he is sporting.

I’m sitting on my couch watching the Presidential News Conference on television. The way the light hits my TV screen, I see the reflection of my living room. And in that living room? My Christmas tree. Yes, folks, it is July 11th and I STILL have my Christmas tree up.

It’s not entirely because I’m lazy. I have been known to work extremely hard (well, sometimes…). Besides, it’s not like it’s the kind of Christmas tree full of Santas and gingerbread men. It is a small, color-coordinated piece that matches my living room quite well, and blends with the décor. I didn’t even WANT a Christmas tree (even a 3’ one). I only put it up on Christmas Eve day because my parents were coming and my son was going to be home. I felt an obligation to participate in the festivities for their sake.

It wasn’t always this way. I used to decorate my house from stem to stern (including 3 different trees), prep elaborate dinners and parties, and wrap gifts as if they were being entered into a contest. Since my divorce however, and as I get older in general, I’ve become quite a Scrooge about the whole holiday. But I digress…..

So what’s the holdup? Well…..to put the tree away, I’d have to go down into my basement. First I’d have to try not to KILL myself tripping over the junk I’ve piled on the stairway leading to the basement. On rare occasion, I will open the door to the basement (a door that is always locked) and put something on the steps so that I don’t have to go all the way down INTO the basement. (That kind of makes it sound like my basement is miles away. “Make sure your canteens are full, your bladders are empty, and then mount your donkeys folks… we’re going to – THE BASEMENT.”)

Dun-dun-dun-DAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH…..

Seriously, it’s a mess. More of a mess than my upstairs space is (and that’s saying something). I’ve realized that almost everything in the basement is left over from my “former life”. There’s nothing down there that I use regularly (except the Christmas tree). The door is opened only when it absolutely has to be. It’s a bit like a dank, dusty, mildewed shrine to what used to be.

It has become apparent to me that shoving (and keeping) all that stuff down there (both literally and figuratively) is preventing me from doing what needs to be done in the present. It’s not the tree I need to get rid of; it’s the crap in the “basement”.

Oh, look at that. Obama has a pinecone in his nose.

Whont….Whont………………Whont. December 30, 2009

I’ve been a little slack in the blog-writing department lately.  I can blame part of that on the fact that I’ve actually been super busy, part on the holidays, but truth be told, I  the main reason is that I’ve quickly fallen back into the negativity rut. Anything I thought to write sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher, “Whont, whont….whont…”  All the same.  Blah, blah, negative blah, blah, blah………..

So as the new year approaches I will attempt (again) to turn over a new leaf.  Write of more positive things, have more hopeful thoughts and (as I always promote) continue to laugh as much as possible.  Trust me when I tell you, you will not mistake me for Pollyanna, but I think it’s time to talk the talk so that I can walk the walk. 

So Here Goes! ……………………uh……………………………………………………….hmmmmm………………………………………………….

………………………………………………..well…………………………………………………..huh.

I’m gonna have to get back to ya.

Dear Santa December 18, 2009

Dear Santa,

I know you must be really busy this week, so I’ll try to make this brief. I have been pretty good this year (though I did flip off that one jerk who cut me off to get to an exit-but he totally deserved it!).  I hope it’s not too late to give you my list.  I’ve been kind of busy myself and forgot to do it earlier.  (Hey, Christmas is one week away, and I just started my shopping…..so I’m thinking one person at this late date shouldn’t throw you off too much.)

Anyway……I just really want two things for Christmas this year.  A new winter coat and a gastric bypass operation.  If I had to pick just one, I would go with the gastric bypass.  Actually, with the gastric bypass I wouldn’t need a new winter coat (I have about 10 of them that would fit 20 pounds from now.)

I know you’re probably thinking that this a pretty extravagant request and that it’s not entirely necessary.  I suppose there is some in truth in that, but left to my own devices (and vices) my past efforts have shown that I just can’t be trusted.  Besides, I really miss clipping my own toenails.

I’m just thinking that if I automatically threw up every time I ate something rich, sugary or too large in portion, it might go along way toward changing my habits. 

Don’t take this the wrong way.  I’m not against overweight people.  I’m mean…..you look great.  I could never pull off that thick belt look.    It’s just that I’d just really like to cross my legs again sometime in 2010.

Well…have a great holiday, Santa.  Say hi to the Missus.

Love,

Michelle

Can You Hear Me Now? December 6, 2009

I had just poured my third cup of coffee this morning when the phone rang.  It was a friend I’d been meaning to catch up with, so the timing was perfect.  I sat, I sipped, I socialized and soon I was suffering.  Let’s see…..how can I put this delicately?……..I really had to pee.

I’ll admit it….there have been times…but ONLY when I’ve been absolutely DESPERATE (or when I’m talking to my mom) that I have  put the phone on “Mute” and relieved myself.  No one is ever the wiser (at least before now) and I can finish my conversation without interruption (or accident).  Some of you may be horrified and sitting in judgement right now at this behavior, but the rest of you know exactly what I’m talking about.  

Unfortunately, this time I was on my cell phone and wearing my Bluetooth earpiece.  Perhaps my cell phone has a mute option, but I am not aware of it, so I was unable to PP on the QT.  By now, the need for relief was reaching an unbearable level.  I paced.  I walked in circles.  I rushed the conversation to a hasty conclusion, dropped the phone and ran frantically for the bathroom. 

Elastic waist leggings (my uniform of necessity these days……) made for an easy wardrobe exit, thank goodness, as every second counted now.  The icy cold of my perch startled me into the realization that the seat lid was DOWN!  I jumped up, whipped around, raised the seat lid………..and watched as my Bluetooth began sinking to the bottom of the toilet.

Look………I didn’t have time to think this through.  Like they say, “He who hesitates is ….a) flushing her Bluetooth, or b) peeing on the floor.”   So I grabbed it.  What can I say?  It was a knee-jerk response.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  With one hand dripping over the nearby sink, I finished what I came to do in the first place. 

Since I’m pretty sure that “falling in the toilet” is not covered by the warranty, you’ll understand the next time we talk if I’m “ breaking up” a little more than usual.

Skinny Sad Man in the Mini (red) Van December 2, 2009

I cannot get his face out of my mind.  I was at a red light the other day and looked in my rear-view mirror and saw the saddest face I’ve ever seen.  It was of the man driving the mini van that had pulled up behind me at the light.  Beside him in the passenger seat was a woman wearing large sunglasses.  They both sat motionless at the light.

Time seemed to stand still, for it seemed like an eternity that I watched them.  I put on my own sunglasses so that they couldn’t see me stare, and  I couldn’t stop staring because I don’t think I’ve ever seen two more miserable looking people in my life (not counting my parents on my wedding day).

I began, as I do, to speculate on the reason for their palpable despondency.  (Besides, I had nothing else to do…..I’d already memorized my grocery list.)  Were they fighting?  No.  It was definitely not a mad look.  Maybe they just found out that they were losing their house due to foreclosure?  Or maybe one of them just got a bad medical report.  Oh my goodness.  Those poor people.  Or maybe not. (I have been known to catastrophize.)  Maybe she just told him she decided against the breast implants afterall……..

But honestly, this man had me very concerned.  I was getting more upset by the minute. (Well, it felt like  minutes…) I wanted to telepathically offer a “coochie coo” or something that might help jolt him out of his misery.  I wanted to will him into happiness again, as his discomfort was causing mine. 

But why should I care?  I don’t know this guy, and his issues (bad or sad mood) don’t really impact me.  As soon as this light turns green, I’m outta here….and the skinny man in the mini van is not my problem. 

But in some ways, it is my problem. (If you dislike corny clichés, please stop reading now.) Because we’re all in this together.  And we need to start caring about the next guy.  Our humanity could stand an extra dose of empathy and kindness.  We would all be better off to feel a little more for the other guy.

I was wrapped up in my “feeling” for this man and woman when the light turned green.  I, myself, was jolted into awareness by the blasting of Sad Man’s horn.  Poor guy came back to life pretty quickly. 

Asshole…….

Hi, My Name is Michelle and I am a Hypocrite…… November 29, 2009

I was sitting here in Starbucks debating whether or not I could justify spending money on a second cup of overpriced coffee.  My rationale was that I was finally getting some work done, and if I bought another cup of expensive coffee, perhaps I’d stay long enough to knock a few more things off my ”To DO”  list. 

But right now I’ve stopped working and am writing this blog because my train of thought was derailed by two young woman sitting on the other side of the room.  They are laughing their heads off (at least I WISH they were….maybe that would shut them up for a minute…..)  Herein lies the hypocrisy. 

 

I am a huge proponent of laughter.  I really believe that we (as adult humans) do not laugh nearly as much as we should/could.   I’ve written blogs about it, attended Humor Conferences, and often considered as a vocation acting as a humor consumer advocate between the general public and the medical community at large.  I realize the health benefits of humor and the emotional bonding that takes place over a good laugh.  But right now, these two hyenas are pissing me off.  Laughing is good, but is screeching really necessary? And the snorting?  I personally think it’s fabricated.

 

Did you ever notice how when someone is really laughing hard, it’s difficult not to laugh along with them?  It’s usually a contagious condition.   In this case I’m looking around……NO ONE ELSE is finding this funny.  In fact, I think that their “fun” is ruining most everyone else’s mood. 

 

In my opinion, these two young women are simply seeking attention.  And they seem to be getting it.  I’m expecting that any minute the one sitting with her back to me may spontaneously burst into flames from the burning glare I have focused on the back of her head. 

Excuse me, has anyone seen my sense of humor?  Maybe I left it in the car. I feel a little guilty being so upset about something that I generally promote as a good and healthy thing.  But wait a minute…….

Lifting weights can be good for you, but that doesn’t mean it’s OK for you to drop the weight on my toe in between reps……I’m quite certain that those two young women left with more T-Cells than when they arrived (unless they were feigning hysteria), but I wish they would have kept their health regime (i.e. laughing ) a bit more to themselves.  

I’m either coming down with something or I’m going to have to remember this the next time I’m laughing my ass off in public. 

You Be You….I’ll Be Me….. November 21, 2009

I went to see a friend in a one-woman show this week.  I had  been looking forward to it for quite some time.  In my humble opinion, she is very talented and I am a big fan.  It has always been my dream to have one-woman show of my own, and have recently been offered an opportunity to do just that.  What I will be doing is more of a “motivational speech/performance”, rather than a play, but the fact remains it will be me…alone……on a stage…….

I sat riveted by the show, continually trying to swallow the lump that kept appearing in my throat.  Partly moved by her performance itself, and partially moved by the fact that she was performing (you may have to be an actor to know what I mean by this…but maybe not…) I became quite emotional about the whole event.  This happens to me when I am in/at the theatre, or in the presence of a truly inspiring speaker…..the only way I can describe it is that I feel it in my body.  A visceral response to a deep and long stored away desire.  I enjoyed the show tremendously and felt proud to know such a talented (and lovely) person.  I was truly inspired by it all.

But here’s the rub….The moment I was alone with myself on the ride home, inspiration flew out the window.  The roaring conversation in my head (between me and my saboteur) was all (and only) about what a loser I was.  What are you thinking?!! You are gonna look like an idiot up there……You don’t even have a real show.  It’s just talking to people.  That’s not a show…..Oh dear Lord.  I never should have agreed to this……..

(I interrupt this barrage of negativity to fill you in on something else you may not know about me.  I love to sing in my car.  I sing all the time by myself in my car.  Sometimes I just drive so that I can sing in my car…..I’m also a great multi-tasker.  I can sing in my car AND carry on a self-defeating conversation with myself at the same time…..all while driving!  This particular evening I was singing with one of my favorite artists, Jana Stanfield, who by the way just released a brand new CD entitled, “What Would You Do This Year If You Had No Fear?”  http://www.janastanfield.com/)

So there I was….singing and berating myself down the highway.  I stopped at a red light which caused me to come out of my stupor long enough to realize what I was singing.  At the top of my lungs I was singing the words, “You be you…I’ll be me…..We’re exactly who we’re supposed to be, so you be you….I’ll be me.” 

I started laughing.  I’m fairly certain that this moment was divinely orchestrated.  Maybe you had to be there.  But for me…I got the message.  I just hope I can remember it.