It's Just Not Going To Work Out.

I rushed out the door of the studio and bolted to the elevator lobby. While I waited for the elevator I changed my flip flops to heals, took my hair out of the clip and applied lip gloss. There was no time to look in a mirror as I was already 2 minutes late. Always trying to plan my week down to the last minute, I thought scheduling a date on a night I volunteered would work out perfectly. I didn’t schedule the 10 minute conversation about my dating life of all things and now I was running behind. I promised to pick up the conversation where we left off next week and said goodnight.

Luckily the meeting place was only 1 block away and I had the walk signal. Arrival time: 5 minutes late. Pretty normal by DC standards.

I apologized as soon as I introduced myself to my date. He had ordered a glass of wine already and was engrossed in his iPhone when I walked up.

There's a point in every date when we think to ourselves whether or not this is going to work. Sometimes it occurs early on, sometimes it’s towards the middle but more often than not before the date has wrapped up we know whether or not it’s going to work. That moment came not once but repeatedly through the 65 minutes I spent with this man. The first instance came after he told
me that I didn't look like any of the pictures on my profile. The rest of the evening served as a series of evidence backing up my original hypothesis.

This is my date and why it's not going to work out….

If I walk up and introduce myself and you're sitting down and don't stand up, it's not going to work out. I'm old school, standing when introducing yourself is common courtesy.

If you continue to text after I have sat down, looked through the menu and placed my drink order, it's not going to work out. I can see what you're doing on your phone from where I'm sitting and to continue the conversation with the person who isn't even there is a little displeasing.

If after we start our conversation, you pick up your phone again and write another text, it's not going to work out. I don't care if you're text messaging Obama about the debate right now please put your phone away. Mine is in my purse even though I would rather have it on my lap so I can monitor the time.

If you keep checking me out from the waste down while I'm in the middle of telling you about my siblings and where I grew up, it's not going to work out. You're 45 shouldn't you have 'covert checking out' mastered by now?

If the only topic of conversation you care to discuss in detail is your ex-wife, your ex-wife or your ex-wife, it's not going to work out. I understand that it’s a sensitive issue and you’re clearly still upset about it but telling me isn't going to change the past and I'm certainly not playing the role
of the free psychologist this evening. My name isn’t Lucy and I’m not looking for nickels.

If I find myself daydreaming about the inside of my refrigerator and assessing possible dinner combination options while wondering if I’ve consumed too much mayonnaise in one day already, while you're telling me another story about your ex-wife, it's so not going to work out.

If I contemplate discrete ways of asking you how you got to the restaurant so I can determine whether or not I may be stuck on the metro with you after this encounter, it's seriously not going to work.

If you felt compelled to tell me about your lucrative career, your client that made you millions, your house in the fancy part of town, the fact that your kids go to a super fancy private school and that you go on three vacations a year and then turn around and want change for your portion of the bill, it most certainly will not work out!

In my opinion, algebra should not be a part of any first date; period. If you can't offer up the $8 for my glass of wine, by all means, then let me treat you. I refuse to waste any time doing math in order to calculate how much you owe and how much I owe, and I'm certainly not waiting for the bartender to break both of our 20 dollar bills, this needs to wrap up…..stat.

I quietly put my wallet in my purse, placed my napkin on the table and stood up. He was in the middle of a story; I don’t remember what the subject matter was because I was no longer listening. My mind was now out the door, down the street and wondering how long it was until the next train. He looked at me as if to say, “Oh, we are leaving?” and I returned the look as I put my purse over my arm and started walking towards the exit with, “Why yes, we are leaving, we must go at once!” And with that I walked towards the door and didn’t look back.

I found myself standing on the corner next to a DC police woman who witnessed our awkward goodbye. I went for the handshake; he went for the hug, realizing the mistake I said aloud, “Oh, ok we can hug.” The police woman looked at me as my head perched over his shoulder and I did what came naturally; I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth. She smiled because she understood. I’m sure she’s seen it before.

As I crossed the street I somehow found myself thinking of a woman I see at the gym on lunch. I call her Miss Confidence, (that is, I call her that to myself, not to her face). I gave her that nickname because whenever I see her at the gym she is naked. I have never seen the woman clothed or actually using any gym equipment. Every time I see her it’s the same thing:

She’s standing in front of the mirror…..nude…….blow drying………….her body. Not her hair or anything north of her neck. Rather, all of the parts that are south of the waist. She does this in front of everyone. She bends over and does this…..in front of everyone. The first time I saw it I was amazed. I’ve seen naked women at the gym who love being naked. But I’ve never seen someone who is so confident and who uses a blow dryer with such moxy. I thought of her and imagined what she would have done in this situation. I know she would’ve had a remark that would’ve been the perfect combination of sarcasm, humor and b*tchiness in order to put this man turd in his place.

If I ever run into her fully clothed and dry I will certainly make friends with her and get her opinion.

You are my sunshine

my only sunshine

you make me happy 

when skies are grey

you'll never know, Pids

how much I love you

please don't take my sunshine away

Mommy will always love you.

Bert Wilson 09/15/2002 - 08/10/2012

My Eyes Are Up Here, A Short Story

Excuse me, but are you staring at my *its?

We learn a lot of lessons when we are little. Those pearls of wisdom that we are expected to hone while we are young and become part of our core values as adults. You remember them...
Treat elders with respect
Don't take the last piece of anything
Never show up empty handed to a party (unless of course you're crashing it)
Don't swear (whoopsy!)
Don't roll your eyes at people who stand on the left of the escalators (guilty!)
Look people in the eye when you're talking to them.......

You get the picture.

I went to a happy hour event tonight. As I pulled up a chair at one of the tables I accidentally banged into the chair next to me. Before I had a chance to say I was sorry, the handsome face on the guy sitting in the chair looked up at me. I smiled. We introduced ourselves. He had big brown eyes and a charming smile.

We chatted for about 15 minutes. We were having a nice conversation. He was funny. He was smart. He was.......scoping? I couldn't help but notice that while we were talking his eyes kept lowering and gazing southward. He would ask me a question, I would answer it and then he would avoid eye contact and his eyes would wander, down there. Just as I was thinking how insulting his behavior was, he ended the conversation and got up from the table to get another drink at the bar, (even though we had a cocktail server assigned to our group). Quickly absorbed by a group of younger, skinnier and prettier girls, he was never to be seen of again for the rest of the evening.

So I did what any self-respecting woman does, I ordered another drink.

Fast forward to arriving home tonight. Right by the door to my apartment is a giant mirror. A mirror of any size would have been super helpful tonight, preferably before I went to the event. If I could add just one rule to the list above it would be: cover up your..........*its. And by (*), I mean Z, as in zits.

At the age of 37 I still get them, pimples. An enormous golf ball size, (maybe I'm slightly exaggerating), red, bump of angry flesh camping out on my face. After two days of intense treatment it was finally on the mend. I thought I had covered it up pretty well but my make-up was no match against the awful DC humidity. There it was staring at me when I got home, waving its big red flag like an astronaut claiming territory on my giant moon of a face. I think a tear drop tattooed on my cheek would have been less noticeable, (and definitely much hipper).

The moral of the story is, if you're talking to someone and they're not looking you in the eye, they could very well be staring at your giant ZITS. Ai yi yi.

The Pursuit of Peace

For the past year and a half I have volunteered at Learning Ally, formerly Reading for the Blind & Dyslexic. As the name implies, my efforts go into helping the blind and dyslexic community by reading textbooks, novels, and short stories that are recorded and put on tape. I guarantee that I get much more out of this process than the individuals who are subjected to listening to my voice guide them through their psychology text book or social studies lesson. I go in once a week and even though my commute or the stresses of the day may make me a little frazzled when I arrive, I always leave feeling relaxed and at peace. The older I get the more I seem to be looking for this in my life. A sense of peace in everything I do. My interactions with friends, family, coworkers, my job, my neighbors, I strive to find peace in everything. Sometimes I fail miserably, but on nights that I volunteer I do find that sense of peace. If I miss the train as I head back to my apartment and have to wait 10 minutes then so be it. I have to learn to accept that sometimes we are not in the driver’s seat, we are just the passenger. I secretly believe this is why we have smart phones and reading material (like this blog), to keep us occupied when we are waiting for trains…..or doctors.

Earlier in the month Learning Ally asked me to attend their annual spring gala at The House of Sweden. I was really excited to go to such a fancy event. Dressing up is always fun, especially when you have a sister who can style you for anything and loves to shop, (thanks again, Gab). The nice thing about going to events by yourself is that you pretty much operate on your own agenda. During the cocktail hour I bounced around and met several couples and chatted with them about Learning Ally. (They had no idea what the organization did and were given tickets through their employers who bought tables.) Everyone I met was about my age or a bit older and they were all very pleasant to chat with and very nice.

Little did I know that the most extraordinary people I would meet would be fellow volunteers.

The lights flickered for everyone to move to the downstairs dining area. I found my table and introduced myself to the other volunteers and their guests; they were all couples. Most of the people at the table were on the other side of 65. I found a chair next to Ed. Ed had a face that was a combination of Donald Sutherland with a Jack Nicholson smile; I felt at ease immediately. We discussed the obvious, how long we have each volunteered and why we started volunteering in the first place. I learned a lot about Ed. He volunteered with his wife, Mary, who was sitting on the other side of him and as equally charming. They put my volunteer hours to shame when they told me that they would go in to the studio for 4 hours every Tuesday afternoon. They both shared a passion for reading and learning which was evident in their conversation and speech. They were both so easy to talk to, I didn’t have to raise my voice for them to hear me, they were sharp and witty, and best of all they thought I was funny.

I learned that Ed used to be a professor of American Literature at American University. He left teaching to pursue a career in the Foreign Service. He had traveled the world and been to so many extraordinary places. I found myself hanging on his every word as he told me of all the places he had visited and the countries he has lived in over the course of his employment. Mary was also in the Foreign Service and they met in Beirut. She said, “You see, I had to go halfway around the world to meet the love of my life!” The remark made me smile as she reached over and held Ed’s hand.

Ed told me about his two sons and grandchildren. Mary and Ed were planning a trip out west to Colorado to see one of their sons and his family for a week. They had a granddaughter who was graduating from high school. They told me the names and ages of all 5 grandchildren and what each one of them was doing. It was clear they were very proud of their family. I asked Ed what other things he does during the day since he was retired. He responded, “Well, we spend a lot of time going to the doctors, you know that’s what happens when you get old.” He then disclosed that he has diabetes and Mary has bone cancer in her hip. She walks with a cane and has difficulty getting around sometimes. I told him about my back surgery a few years ago. I explained that after the experience I never took for granted the gift of mobility and that being able to get around on your own two feet is a blessing every day. He nodded and agreed with me.

The next thing out of Ed’s mouth struck me. “I’m very blessed and I’ve lived a great life. I have seen so many wonderful places and I have a lot of happy memories.” At first it made me sad to hear him say this because I felt like he was talking about his life in the past tense. But I realized that he was simply accepting his own mortality and that someday, who knows when, he was going to perish. The weight of this message wasn’t just carried in what he said; it was how he said it.

Ed was at peace.

I realized while sitting next to him that I, too, was at peace. I think that’s what we all want when we get older and have checked off the boxes on our bucket list. We are simply looking for a sense of peace in what we’ve done with our time here in this life and we are looking for love from those that are surrounding us.

My mom turned 70 last year. My family gathered and had a special dinner for her at a restaurant in my home town. During the dinner I looked around the table at all of my siblings and their families. A lot of my nieces and nephews are grown up and are, (dare I say), adults. It made me sad because I know if they are getting old, then I’m getting old. But it also made me excited. Excited to wonder what is in store for them and where their path in life will lead them.

I think it must be a pretty amazing accomplishment when you’re 70 to look around a big dining room table of people and know that you’re the reason why all these people came together and will continue to be bonded forever. I think if everyone started out their lives and careers with the pursuit of peace for when they turn 70, 80, or 90, we probably would do things a little differently. But we would probably miss out on a lot of important life lessons at the same time.

To everyone who reads this blog, I wish you a long life that takes you on a journey which not only satisfies your curiosities and passions but finds you at a dinner table many years from now, old, really old, with lots and lots of wrinkles and incredible stories that you’re willing to share with a complete stranger. I wish that you’re able to emit the same amount of peace that Ed did, and absorb the same amount of love in return.

Laughter…..Love…….Peace.

The Secret Joy of Being Small

{Run fast for your mother and fast for your father
Run for your children for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your longing behind you
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive}

{So I'm sailing for tomorrow
My dreams are a dyin'.
And my love is an anchor tied to you
Tied with a silver chain.
I have my ship
And all her flags are a flyin'
She is all that I have left
And music is her name}

{Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil,
A life of joy and peace}

{Happiness
Something in my own place
I'm standing naked
Smiling, I feel no disgrace
With who I am}

{Make me a channel of your peace
Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope
Where there is darkness, only light
And where there's sadness, ever joy}

{I'll take your part
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down}

{And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand}

The first time I heard the song “On Eagle’s Wings”, I was a little girl sitting in St. Joseph’s church in Cayuga, NY. I remember the way I felt when I heard the song. I listened to the chorus and the words took me on a journey. I thought that God must be a giant if he was capable of holding me in the palm of his hand. I remember feeling small; very small. But small in a good way, like I was just a tiny fractal in a big universe. Although I felt small, I didn’t feel alone, I felt protected.

This past week I heard the song, twice; once on Ash Wednesday and again on Saturday. Every time I hear this song I find it difficult to sing the chorus. I start to tear up and have to look up at the ceiling. It’s one of my favorite songs to sing at mass still to this day. The song makes me feel light, like I’m floating on a cloud and traveling through the sky. I wonder what it must feel like to shine like the sun.

Music amazes me. It has the ability to make us feel every emotion possible. Happiness, joy, sadness, anger, wonder, excitement…
It can instantly change our mood.
Force us to ponder issues we don’t discuss.
Bring us to undiscovered corners of our imagination.
And even make us contemplate our own mortality.

All of the lyrics above are smaller portions of larger songs; the part that I gravitate to, sing in my head and speak to me in a secret way. They give me peace.

The beauty of music is that once we hear it, we can remember it, store it in our heart and carry it with our spirit. Once something has touched our spirit, it has touched us forever.

I saw a story on the NBC news this week about Eric Whitacre’s Virtual Choir. After watching the video on YouTube I felt that familiar feeling. The feeling of being small, but not alone, and knowing that we are surrounded by millions of other individuals and that we are all part of something much, much bigger.

Watch the video, it’s beautiful.
http://youtu.be/D7o7BrlbaDs