"What do you think about us having a threesome?" Mike asked.
"I don't know," I answered, "you never seemed the type that would be interested in that kind of thing."
"I'm a guy, what did you expect?" he asked.
"Well, to be honest, I've always wanted to be in a threesome." I said, "I think it would be fun."
"You are always full of surprises."
"What, you think women don't think of those things?"
" I guess. Just never thought you'd be one of them." He said.
At this point, the long pause in the conversation made me think another "hypothetical situation' question was about to be asked. But...
"We've been together a long time and there wouldn't be any reason for jealousy." he said.
"Jealousy about what?" I asked.
"If you wanted to have a threesome. Like you were talking about. If you really, really wanted to, I mean."
"Sure, you're trying to make this my idea." I said.
"Does it really matter whose idea? Who cares? I just thought it would be something you'd enjoy. You've probably got two or three people in mind, right?" (Leading the witness!)
As matter of fact, I did know a couple of people who might be up for something like that. But how do you ask them? What's protocol? What's the big deal anyway? It's not like I'm asking for a kidney. So after careful consideration, I decided on who to call and for extra privacy, I called from the bedroom phone. Mike was trying to eavesdrop but he wouldn't hear anything. The line was busy. I hung up.
"Well, what happened?" Mike asked.
"Nothing. Rick's line was busy."
"Who the hell is Rick?"
"Our friend Rick. Remember him?"
"What are you calling him for?" he asked.
"I'm calling to see if he'd be in the threesome we've been talking about, of course."
"But Rick's a guy!"
"Of course he's a guy."
"You mean all this time we've been talking about a threesome, you thought I meant ask another guy?"(he's almost yelling, by the way.)
"Of course. " I said. "Why do men always think a threesome is with two women?"
Moral of the story: Don't just be careful what you ask for--BE SPECIFIC!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Saturday, November 9, 2013
It's All in the Acknowledgment
Whether it is raising your hand in the classroom, letting someone in your lane of traffic or just hoping someone in your day will notice your new haircut, everyone wants to be acknowledged. We like it, it's important. It validates us as human beings and confirms our place in the world.
I was raised by my grandmother and every single time one of her grand or great-grand children was brought over or came by, she acted like she'd just won the lottery. She just lit up! Even when she got into her nineties, she'd almost jump out of that old rocking chair of hers and give you a "hug around the neck." Let me tell you, you haven't been hugged until a ninety-five year old woman, unaware of her own strength, puts you in a strangle hold! You might lose consciousness but it was something you had to endure because she loved you.
Growing up with her example, I guess I equated acknowledgment with approval. They seem to go hand-in-hand. Even though you can be acknowledged for your wrong turns and mistakes, being recognized for simply existing is a basic human need. For example, we hire people--mostly grandmothers--at my hospital's nursery to just hold the babies. Sometimes, the babies are born addicted, very ill or in rare cases born then abandoned. Even though the babies can neither speak, know what's being said or going on, they respond to being held. This is the most powerful weapon we have against "Failure To Thrive "syndrome. "Failure To Thrive" is exactly as it sounds. Babies who are not held or 'symbolically' acknowledged do not thrive. They tend to weigh less, eat less and react less to their surroundings resulting, at times, in developmental problems that effect them the rest of their lives. They may be only hours or days old but they respond to a loving kind of interaction and the acknowledgment that someone values them.
In this Thanksgiving/Christmas season, let's all make an effort to be grateful for what we have and acknowledge those around us. Notice his/her abilities, aspects of their personality you especially love---praise goofiness! Turn something he or she sees as a flaw and make it a fabulous trait. Notice the color of their eyes. Hell, notice them breathing! Make their day. Make their day the way each of you make mine. Light 'em up!
You'll thrive.
I was raised by my grandmother and every single time one of her grand or great-grand children was brought over or came by, she acted like she'd just won the lottery. She just lit up! Even when she got into her nineties, she'd almost jump out of that old rocking chair of hers and give you a "hug around the neck." Let me tell you, you haven't been hugged until a ninety-five year old woman, unaware of her own strength, puts you in a strangle hold! You might lose consciousness but it was something you had to endure because she loved you.
Growing up with her example, I guess I equated acknowledgment with approval. They seem to go hand-in-hand. Even though you can be acknowledged for your wrong turns and mistakes, being recognized for simply existing is a basic human need. For example, we hire people--mostly grandmothers--at my hospital's nursery to just hold the babies. Sometimes, the babies are born addicted, very ill or in rare cases born then abandoned. Even though the babies can neither speak, know what's being said or going on, they respond to being held. This is the most powerful weapon we have against "Failure To Thrive "syndrome. "Failure To Thrive" is exactly as it sounds. Babies who are not held or 'symbolically' acknowledged do not thrive. They tend to weigh less, eat less and react less to their surroundings resulting, at times, in developmental problems that effect them the rest of their lives. They may be only hours or days old but they respond to a loving kind of interaction and the acknowledgment that someone values them.
In this Thanksgiving/Christmas season, let's all make an effort to be grateful for what we have and acknowledge those around us. Notice his/her abilities, aspects of their personality you especially love---praise goofiness! Turn something he or she sees as a flaw and make it a fabulous trait. Notice the color of their eyes. Hell, notice them breathing! Make their day. Make their day the way each of you make mine. Light 'em up!
You'll thrive.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Songs in My Life's Soundtrack
I like marking events and milestones in my life by songs.
The first song I remember hearing was, "Don't Pull Your Love Out" by Hamilton, Joe, Frank and Reynolds. I was a kid listening to my cousin's radio and didn't know anything about songs being on rotation. I just thought I was lucky to hear it every hour or two and I loved the low, deep voice of the group's lead singer.
Neil Diamond's, "I Am, I Said" is the second song I remember. I was feeling pretty sad about being an only child, raised by my grandma and the only girl in a sea of male cousins. The line, "I've got an emptiness deep inside..." really hit home with me. Made me feel less alone.
Songs would come and go, genres would change and so did my tastes. I listened to "Toys In the Attic" by Aerosmith, "Destroyer" by KISS; groups like Bad Company and Grand Funk Railroad. Music and lyrics explained things to me and even gave me a playlist for relationships or a broken heart.
For example:
REO Speedwagon taught me that if a relationship is getting stale, it might need some "Variety Tonight." For a moment there I thought, "Don't Let Him Go" but the relationship was over and it was "Time for Me to Fly."
Def Leppard proved love and/or a broken heart could come from a simple "Photograph" and if I wanted to wallow in some self-pity about a lost love, Ringo Starr's song by the same name did the trick.
Pink Floyd made me "Comfortably Numb" when life got too overwhelming and Ozzy brought me back with "Flyin' High Again."
I got over the 'love of my life' with songs. Phil Collins came in handy. The relationship began with "Follow You, Follow Me," but soon I could feel the break-up "Coming in the Air Tonight." When I realized my guy was "Throwing It All Away" new songs were needed.
"On My Own" by Patti LaBelle/Michael McDonald said what I couldn't. It was over. When I needed to cry I played, "I've Done Enough Dying Today" by the Gatlin Brothers and "I Call" by M.S. Smith when my little heart thought there was no one but God who could possibly understand. The line, "I call...and you're the one who hears me crying" said it all.
But REM reminded me that "Everybody Hurts," and it would pass then Kenny Loggins told me "This Is It.""Are you gonna wait for a sign? Here's your miracle...stand up and fight" Kenny sang. So I did.
Eventually, Journey declared, "I'll Be Alright" for me, and I was.
There is a song that could be applied to every bump, bruise and triumph but my favorite example of a song marking a milestone happened the night my son was born. "Circle of Life" from "The Lion King" came on in the birthing suite as the nurse put him in my arms for the first time. It was fitting.
What's on your life's soundtrack?
The first song I remember hearing was, "Don't Pull Your Love Out" by Hamilton, Joe, Frank and Reynolds. I was a kid listening to my cousin's radio and didn't know anything about songs being on rotation. I just thought I was lucky to hear it every hour or two and I loved the low, deep voice of the group's lead singer.
Neil Diamond's, "I Am, I Said" is the second song I remember. I was feeling pretty sad about being an only child, raised by my grandma and the only girl in a sea of male cousins. The line, "I've got an emptiness deep inside..." really hit home with me. Made me feel less alone.
Songs would come and go, genres would change and so did my tastes. I listened to "Toys In the Attic" by Aerosmith, "Destroyer" by KISS; groups like Bad Company and Grand Funk Railroad. Music and lyrics explained things to me and even gave me a playlist for relationships or a broken heart.
For example:
REO Speedwagon taught me that if a relationship is getting stale, it might need some "Variety Tonight." For a moment there I thought, "Don't Let Him Go" but the relationship was over and it was "Time for Me to Fly."
Def Leppard proved love and/or a broken heart could come from a simple "Photograph" and if I wanted to wallow in some self-pity about a lost love, Ringo Starr's song by the same name did the trick.
Pink Floyd made me "Comfortably Numb" when life got too overwhelming and Ozzy brought me back with "Flyin' High Again."
I got over the 'love of my life' with songs. Phil Collins came in handy. The relationship began with "Follow You, Follow Me," but soon I could feel the break-up "Coming in the Air Tonight." When I realized my guy was "Throwing It All Away" new songs were needed.
"On My Own" by Patti LaBelle/Michael McDonald said what I couldn't. It was over. When I needed to cry I played, "I've Done Enough Dying Today" by the Gatlin Brothers and "I Call" by M.S. Smith when my little heart thought there was no one but God who could possibly understand. The line, "I call...and you're the one who hears me crying" said it all.
But REM reminded me that "Everybody Hurts," and it would pass then Kenny Loggins told me "This Is It.""Are you gonna wait for a sign? Here's your miracle...stand up and fight" Kenny sang. So I did.
Eventually, Journey declared, "I'll Be Alright" for me, and I was.
There is a song that could be applied to every bump, bruise and triumph but my favorite example of a song marking a milestone happened the night my son was born. "Circle of Life" from "The Lion King" came on in the birthing suite as the nurse put him in my arms for the first time. It was fitting.
What's on your life's soundtrack?
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Just Empty Nesting
"Every time something ends, something else begins...we just don't realize it." That's just the latest old saying meant to make me feel better about my life change. In one night, my son graduated school and went straight into his new life---leaving me behind. Of course he left me behind. I did my job. Mission accomplished. Childhood ends and adulthood begins. Baby birds grow up and leave the nest. That's how it is supposed to be. But what happens to Momma Bird?
I gotta admit, as Momma Bird I'm a bit lost. I loved staying home raising my son. It was my 'calling.' I had been an RN and motherhood seemed to be the next logical step. But after having a child in school for twelve years, I'm no longer putting anybody on a school bus. I'm the parent of a graduate, not a student. Making pancakes for breakfast and packing lunch is no longer in my job description. As matter of fact, there is no longer a job requiring a description. Living arrangements have changed, too. "Our house" is now "Mom's house" and I'm actually required to knock on the front door of my "son's house"! Outrageous!
Children grow up while you're not looking. They mature behind your back. They get opinions and feelings, dreams and ambitions all their own. Roles change. But it happens too damn fast! Grown and gone.
I'm just in a transitional phase but I need somebody to spoil. I'm used to having big dinners complete with bread, steak, mashed potatoes, greens, corn, beans, deviled eggs, sweet tea and such. There's supposed to be knives, spoons and forks clanking against plates with the ever-present danger that a full glass of something will hit the floor, not this deafening silence and a table set for one.
I'm being silly. I'm reaching out to the universe hoping for a couple of understanding ears. One day soon, this voyage into self-pity will end. I'll resume my nursing career and continue to write for publication, stop talking to the dog and start talking to people again. I'll focus on myself and it won't seem selfish. I'll reach the final stage of grief--acceptance--and laugh about what I've just written. It won't be today but soon.
I gotta admit, as Momma Bird I'm a bit lost. I loved staying home raising my son. It was my 'calling.' I had been an RN and motherhood seemed to be the next logical step. But after having a child in school for twelve years, I'm no longer putting anybody on a school bus. I'm the parent of a graduate, not a student. Making pancakes for breakfast and packing lunch is no longer in my job description. As matter of fact, there is no longer a job requiring a description. Living arrangements have changed, too. "Our house" is now "Mom's house" and I'm actually required to knock on the front door of my "son's house"! Outrageous!
Children grow up while you're not looking. They mature behind your back. They get opinions and feelings, dreams and ambitions all their own. Roles change. But it happens too damn fast! Grown and gone.
I'm just in a transitional phase but I need somebody to spoil. I'm used to having big dinners complete with bread, steak, mashed potatoes, greens, corn, beans, deviled eggs, sweet tea and such. There's supposed to be knives, spoons and forks clanking against plates with the ever-present danger that a full glass of something will hit the floor, not this deafening silence and a table set for one.
I'm being silly. I'm reaching out to the universe hoping for a couple of understanding ears. One day soon, this voyage into self-pity will end. I'll resume my nursing career and continue to write for publication, stop talking to the dog and start talking to people again. I'll focus on myself and it won't seem selfish. I'll reach the final stage of grief--acceptance--and laugh about what I've just written. It won't be today but soon.
Monday, September 30, 2013
One of My Own "Breaking Bad" Moments
The "Breaking Bad" finale broadcast masterfully ended one of the best shows I have ever seen. For me, all the "appropriate" people got killed; the family is safe and the show essentially began and ended in the lab. Occasionally throughout the series 'favorite bad moments' would be revisited prompting me to recount my life to see if I had any favorite bad moments of my own. So in honor of Walter White, here is one of my personal "Bad Moments."
Years ago, I was getting ready for a date when someone knocked at my door. I went to answer it but instead of asking, "Who is it?" or looking through the peephole I just asked, "Mark?" A barely audible response made me think it was him. So like a fool, I opened the door, saw it wasn't Mark, tried to slam the door on this strange man but he blocked it with his foot and got in. Figuring "this is it, I'm dead," a strange calm came over me. I pointed at him and in a slow, "Exorcist-like" growl said, "You just made a major mistake. I'm on my period, I am hungry, I'm really pissed and the only victim here is going to be YOU!"
Let's just say he had a face full of dirt and a nice little bump on his head from the conveniently located potted plant I threw at him at the first step he took toward me. But there's nothing funnier than the sight of a terrified intruder tripping over furniture running away from a short chick throwing flowers. While a clay pot of African Violets lacks the lasting effects of Lily of the Valley---they got the job done!
How do I feel now about that brief transformation into crazy? As Walt said, "I liked it...and I was good at it."
RIP Breaking Bad
Years ago, I was getting ready for a date when someone knocked at my door. I went to answer it but instead of asking, "Who is it?" or looking through the peephole I just asked, "Mark?" A barely audible response made me think it was him. So like a fool, I opened the door, saw it wasn't Mark, tried to slam the door on this strange man but he blocked it with his foot and got in. Figuring "this is it, I'm dead," a strange calm came over me. I pointed at him and in a slow, "Exorcist-like" growl said, "You just made a major mistake. I'm on my period, I am hungry, I'm really pissed and the only victim here is going to be YOU!"
Let's just say he had a face full of dirt and a nice little bump on his head from the conveniently located potted plant I threw at him at the first step he took toward me. But there's nothing funnier than the sight of a terrified intruder tripping over furniture running away from a short chick throwing flowers. While a clay pot of African Violets lacks the lasting effects of Lily of the Valley---they got the job done!
How do I feel now about that brief transformation into crazy? As Walt said, "I liked it...and I was good at it."
RIP Breaking Bad
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Car Repair Conclusion
Twenty-one days ago, I took my car to the dealership to have a blown head gasket repaired and this odyssey began. I knew my car wouldn't be touched until after the long Labor Day holiday had passed but that was expected. That's just my luck. I chose to believe that a full-grown, college educated woman, didn't need a father/brother/hubby etc. to act on her behalf in dealing with a mechanic. That's just my ignorance.
I did some pretty intense research online about what fixing a blown head gasket would involve but apparently, I missed ALOT. You see, when I picked up my car, "Bob" gave me the finished work order form that included all of the following:
"1" intake valve
"2" exhaust valve
Radiator inspection
Head resurfacing
Head gasket set
Head bolts
Timing set
Tune-up assessment
Spark plugs
Wires
Valve cover set
Oil/filter AND
Oil change
I must admit that nowhere in my research did I discover that fixing a blown head gasket required a tune up and an oil change. My cousin James took his car in for new brakes and all he got were brakes. My cousin Ted needed a new fan belt and all he got was a new fan belt. My Uncle Ray had a blown HEAD GASKET and that's all that was fixed. No tune up, no oil change. Why? Because none of them qualified for the "Little Lady" treatment. What's that?
"Now 'Little Lady,'" Bob explained, "women in are here all the time thinking they know what's wrong with their car but that's for us to decide. We always make sure they get the proper treatment."
Mission accomplished. I'm a lot lighter in the wallet and I've been "treated."
I did some pretty intense research online about what fixing a blown head gasket would involve but apparently, I missed ALOT. You see, when I picked up my car, "Bob" gave me the finished work order form that included all of the following:
"1" intake valve
"2" exhaust valve
Radiator inspection
Head resurfacing
Head gasket set
Head bolts
Timing set
Tune-up assessment
Spark plugs
Wires
Valve cover set
Oil/filter AND
Oil change
I must admit that nowhere in my research did I discover that fixing a blown head gasket required a tune up and an oil change. My cousin James took his car in for new brakes and all he got were brakes. My cousin Ted needed a new fan belt and all he got was a new fan belt. My Uncle Ray had a blown HEAD GASKET and that's all that was fixed. No tune up, no oil change. Why? Because none of them qualified for the "Little Lady" treatment. What's that?
"Now 'Little Lady,'" Bob explained, "women in are here all the time thinking they know what's wrong with their car but that's for us to decide. We always make sure they get the proper treatment."
Mission accomplished. I'm a lot lighter in the wallet and I've been "treated."
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Car "Repair" 14 Days Later...
For the past twenty years, I've been a registered nurse specializing in intensive care. I've assisted in open-heart surgery, served in ER, run first-aid stations and assisted various accident victims on numerous backroads and interstates. If you've got a medical issue, I'm a good person to have nearby. Unfortunately, this "status" doesn't help at all when the issue is car repair and mechanics. In fact, every conversation I have with them contains a "We'll see," "We'll be in touch," a few "Little Lady's" and a "Sugar" or two.
The research I did before I took my car to "the shop" was for nothing. Knowing and explaining that my car had a blown head gasket got me nothing but a couple of eye rolls when they thought I wasn't looking. I confess, I expected nothing less.
I correctly guessed that taking my car to the shop on August 28th was just a little too close to the Labor Day holiday to expect any service. At the time, my car was the only one they had but I made myself believe that my car was only one in a long line of customers needing repair. I was wrong but what's a girl to do?
The last fourteen days have found me nearly in solitary confinement. The people I have given rides to in the past suddenly were too busy, too far away or too smart to answer their phones when my number appeared on their caller ID. Calls from friends have stopped...the word is out. I've got no wheels. Again, I expected nothing less.
With no wheels, I have been able to catch up on television. The funniest thing I've seen so far is a commercial about a website designed for women who want to buy a car by themselves. The tagline is something like, "I don't need to take a dude with me..." That makes me laugh every time. I shout back at the TV, "Oh yes you do---Little Lady!" The only thing funnier than a woman taking information from that site to a car dealer would be taking it to an auto repair shop! I know from experience.......
FOURTEEN DAYS LATER!
The research I did before I took my car to "the shop" was for nothing. Knowing and explaining that my car had a blown head gasket got me nothing but a couple of eye rolls when they thought I wasn't looking. I confess, I expected nothing less.
I correctly guessed that taking my car to the shop on August 28th was just a little too close to the Labor Day holiday to expect any service. At the time, my car was the only one they had but I made myself believe that my car was only one in a long line of customers needing repair. I was wrong but what's a girl to do?
The last fourteen days have found me nearly in solitary confinement. The people I have given rides to in the past suddenly were too busy, too far away or too smart to answer their phones when my number appeared on their caller ID. Calls from friends have stopped...the word is out. I've got no wheels. Again, I expected nothing less.
With no wheels, I have been able to catch up on television. The funniest thing I've seen so far is a commercial about a website designed for women who want to buy a car by themselves. The tagline is something like, "I don't need to take a dude with me..." That makes me laugh every time. I shout back at the TV, "Oh yes you do---Little Lady!" The only thing funnier than a woman taking information from that site to a car dealer would be taking it to an auto repair shop! I know from experience.......
FOURTEEN DAYS LATER!
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