Grow Up

You know what? You aren’t funny. You may think that your snide comments just roll off my back but they don’t. I expected you to be happy for me, but it’s obviously clear that you aren’t whatsoever. You are making this situation about YOU and frankly, it’s beyond irritating and insulting.

I have found someone who completes me, loves me for who I am and wants to spend the rest of my life with me and I want to do the same for him. You may want the best for me (and that is wonderful) but your way of showing it through sarcasm has to stop. Go ahead and call me sensitive…this is a sensitive subject which I believe deserves your full support. It’s just common sense.

You have raised me to become someone who is capable of making their own decisions but yet your lack of trust in my doing so is an insult. Am I only supposed to make decisions which work to YOUR benefit? If that were the case, then I wouldn’t be ME.

Yes, I realize that my decision to marry a wonderful, caring, sweet, intelligent and supportive man was abrupt, but it was not without “warning” or premonition. You have raised your concerns…none of which are valid. You have no concept or getting to know someone who is vastly different from you without judging him and assigning him a stereotype that is completely inaccurate. But that is no concern to you. You prefer stereotypes over personal knowledge.

You say you want to learn more about him. By all means, then do that! You do not need my permission! You talk to him as though everything is perfect and then when it’s just the two of us you feel the need to express your “opinion”, which is nothing more than some rude comment you must have thought of during the previous night. I hope that your saying that made you feel proud.

Let me make my own decisions without constantly being fed guilt and doubts about this upcoming marriage’s success. This marriage is going to carry with it many changes for the both of us and the remainder of the family. I’m well aware of that and it certainly hasn’t made my decision any easier. It just means that change is coming. You have to prepare and adjust for that, just as I will.

If you have concerns, voice them without inserting vague forecasts which you couldn’t possible predict. You are not a fortune-teller, you are a parent. And as such, you have to think before you speak. This is not comedy central, this is real life.

And at the risk of sounding like a parent, I have one piece of advice for you – GROW UP!

No Clue What To Do

I have no clue what to do with the next couple years and it's driving me absolutely nuts.
Do I stay at my current place of employment as long as possible?
Do I switch schools in order to get a bachelor's degree sooner but pay more in order to do so? Should I attend that school online or in the evenings or weekends? Do I want to put in all those miles or move to that town (an hour away) to do so? Or do I just wait once I get my associate's degree and save up more $ to pay off my current loans and then get back into school?
WHAT THE HECK?!?!?!
I so enjoyed being a kid and not having to worry about these things.

The Motherload

I have found the motherload of all genealogy websites regarding my family and am now going to work on the biggest project of my life - organizing it all! EEK! I've found family photographs, obituaries, wedding announcements and even a full family tree on my dad's side! WONDERFUL! It's scrapbooking time!

Precious Life

I work in a nursing home. And lately I have become more aware of how precious life is in general. Since I have started working in my current profession, it is almost impossible to not connect with residents and almost equally impossible to not feel loss when the resident(s) pass away. It is a rewarding job, yet challenging when these losses occur.

An example in point:

I befriended a resident named “Lucy” almost immediately when I began my work in the activities department. When she was alert, she was a sheer joy to be around. She had THE BEST sense of humor. She would sing when asked to, make jokes and laugh constantly. When she smiled, you just couldn’t help but smile back. One of her favorite things to hold and play with was a rubber chicken. She would hold and squeeze it and make chicken sounds when the nurses passed by.

Several months ago, I was informed that Lucy would be admitted to the hospice program. It was estimated that she had only less than six months left of her precious life to live. At first, I couldn’t understand why she was admitted, she seemed no different than before. It wasn’t long after that thought that I saw Lucy cry more often, even at the simplest question. It took much encouragement to make the tears stop and she needed more physical contact than ever before. I would hold her hand and tell her that everything was fine, when both she and I knew that it wasn’t.

Two weeks ago I saw the most immediate decline in physical ability that I have ever seen. She would not eat and rarely opened her eyes. She found no joy in the activities that previously brightened her day. It was two days before she passed that I went into her room to visit her. She could no longer even make a coherent sentence; she just babbled and stared at me, falling in and out of sleep. I could not even talk for fear of crying. For a half hour, I just rubbed her shoulder and stroked her hair, hoping that her pain would end soon. She stared at me with one eye the entire time.

Two days later while I was on my lunch break, Lucy passed. I walked by her room just as a nurse had gone in to check on her. She immediately came out and asked for another nurse to help with cleaning Lucy up and getting her ready for the mortician to arrive. I asked if I could take some time to say “Goodbye” to Lucy and the nurses graciously allowed me to do so.
I kept thinking, “I was just sitting here enjoying my lunch and a great book and someone just left this earth to be with the creator!”. How does this work? How am I unable to feel something when a person leaves this earth when they are in a room less than 500 feet away from me?

But I am certain of a few things.
1. Life is precious beyond belief and beyond my understanding.
2. You must show love to your friends and family before it is too late.
3. Be thankful for your life in the past and especially the life you have NOW.

I hope that you all learn this before it is too late.

God bless everyone and EVERY LIFE on this planet!

All The Proof You Need

Look at these pictures and tell me that there isn't an intelligent designer!

You Are Not Cool

Ok, car....

What's wrong? Something got you down? Have I not been paying much attention to you lately? Yeah, I know that I've been more lenient to drive you since gas prices have soared, but I really can't help it. But yesterday you did something that was NOT COOL. Not cool at all.

I've given you loads of patience, tons of maintenance and lots of TLC. As I figure it, you owe me. I've paid for you, pampered you, HECK I even bought some lovely air freshener and new floor mats on the day you came home with me. I've waxed you, given you wonderful car washes, installed a new air conditioner and radiator. When you have a boo-boo I take you to another town 10 miles away so you can get the best possible service.

I've even named you. And I think that Ethel is a lovely name for you. It fits your purplish-grey personality so well!

And then yesterday you flash that horrible light that I so despise seeing.

"Service Engine Soon". You don't even go into specifics. It would be so much more helpful if you could share a little more detail than that. I would hate to run through every possible scenario of hypothetically driving down I-94 and having the carbeurator pop through the hood of my car when instead you could just tell me that it just needs a little tweek. You are freaking me out!

Ethel, I am disappointed. We've been through so much together. I would hate to give you over to a cranky old dumpster owner and have you crushed into a 2-foot by 2-foot cube.

AND DON'T THINK I WON'T DO IT!

I thought you loved me, Ethel. You shall now face my wrath.

But please, could you turn off the engine light?

Human Tornado Siren

Stop laughing.

I don't want to come across as a party-pooper. Really, I don't. But your laugh is incredibly annoying. I wouldn't even call it a laugh, but a yell with vibrato. How in the world do you do that? You must have a diaphragm the size of a car tire in order for you to project the kind of sounds you do from your throat.

Yeah, what you saw on tv was pretty darn funny. But I'm sitting right next to you and blood is coming from my ears. And are you trying to hold it out as long as you possibly can? Do you have music in your head and you are just laughing for a full measure straight? Keep it to a 32nd note, please. In a very fast tempo. This is irritating.

Another thing: If you are going to do your trademark laugh, normally people will give a little warning sound. And I emphasize the word "little". Perhaps it could be a slight giggle or some quicker shallow breathing. But for you to hyperventilate for what seems an eternity and then unexpectedly (and terrifyingly) blast sound out of your mouth as though you were imitating a Gilbert Gottfried impersonation of a tornado siren....that's not cool. It scares me.

Just please, stop.

Is This What It's Like?

When I was a kid, I did not like boys….AT ALL. Boys were gross. Boys had cooties. If you kissed a boy, you got warts. I imagine that most girls believed this. I would rather have been a tomboy and play with the boys in the dirt and mud and worms than kiss one! However, this did not stifle my 2nd grade “marriage” to a boy named Chris Schalz. It happened on the baseball field. All my friends were there and threw mulberry leaves filled with sand in celebration. But Mr. Schalz was a player. The very next day I saw him smooching with the local 1st grade tramp named Nicole. Everyone knew she was an easy catch. Our marriage went down in flames. I became an 8-year old Elizabeth Taylor and spent the next 2 years traversing the playgrounds, finding solace only in a plutonic friendship with a boy nicknamed “Pickle Juice” and the seagulls who would gather in the grassy field right in front of where I swapped my innocent vows with Mr. Loose Lips.

My aversion to all things “boys” went well into my teen years and some of my college years, too.

“No, I do not want to dance with you.”

“No, I am not going to the prom.”

“I am never going to be married.”

“I am woman, hear me roar!”

“Yes, I am engaged…his name is Simon. No, you don’t know him.” (I had worn a ring on my all-important finger in order to convince someone who was interested in me that I was not available, when in fact, I was).

I had so convinced my family that I was never going to marry a man that they naturally assumed that I was a lesbian. One day, out of the blue, my mom came into my room and said, “You know, Ellie, if you are a lesbian, it doesn’t matter to me. I will love you all the same.” I responded by dropping my jaw to the floor in surprise and yelling, “I’M NOT A LESBIAN! YES, I’M SURE!”. Of course, I wasn’t a lesbian, but technically I was not interested in men either. I was attracted not to any gender, but to the idea that I would grow up without a partner and would be thrilled about it! Don’t let anyone convince you that cynicism does not have incredible power over your dreams and goals!

However, over the past few years I have had an urge to find that special someone to spend the rest of my life with. I talked about it with friends (which felt very strange, almost alien), went on dating websites, and even went on an impromptu date with someone I met in a grocery store (On a side note, I wouldn’t recommend that. But that’s another story altogether.). After a recent move, I let up on the searching for a date bit but then decided this past January to give it another go. On the very first day, someone contacted me to express his interest in me. I thought, “What in the world? Have you even seen my picture? Why would you want me?” See, that’s how powerful cynicism is. It can come back to haunt you and corrupt you even after you swear to never think in those negative ways ever again.

But this online guy and I started to e-mail each other. Every night. Then our e-mails turned into MSN chats. For hours. Then our paths crossed in person! And I tell you this as someone who has converted from the religion of cynicism and self-loathing to believing fully in the following anonymous quote:

"Love - a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker"

I’ve come to the following conclusion. My boy is great! My boy does not have cooties (and if he did, it wouldn’t matter ONE BIT)! When I kissed this boy I received no warts, only a kiss back. And I would trade in all my years of being a tomboy and playing in the dirt and mud and worms for one more day with him. And I should clarify that I’m not actually kissing a boy, but a man of my own age (25). Haha. Please do not send the feds after me, this relationship is fully legal!
Is this what love is like? Please tell me, because I have not experienced anything quite like this before. Instead of reciting the quotes I listed out earlier, I can’t wait to say the following to him and only him:

“Yes, I will dance with you.”

“Yes, I would love to go to your company Christmas party with you.”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

“I am your woman! (No roaring involved)”

I can only hope that this feeling lasts forever with this boy.

"Nunc scio quit sit amor." Latin, "Now I know what love is." by Virgil (Classical Roman Poet)

And I Was "Like" - No You Weren't!

Several years ago, the actor Edward Norton appeared on the interview show “Inside the Actors Studio” where he was asked by host James Lipton about his least favorite word. Mr. Norton replied, “Like”, to which Mr. Lipton soupy rolled his eyes back in his head and replied “Oh yes, me, too!”. I have now joined the likes (pun intended) of Mr. Norton and Mr. Lipton in declaring that my least favorite word is “Like”.

Not “like” as in “I like ice cream”, but in the sense where people use the word in describing an action or feeling. For instance, today I was standing in line inside a gas station and the woman in front of me was talking on the phone in super-speed motion. Her conversation went a little somethin’ like this (huh!):

“So I called my friends and I was like are you going to pick up and they did and they were like “hello” and I was like “Uh..hi, where have you been” because for the past, like, week or so I was like freaking out because I couldn’t get a hold of them and I was like “Did they get hurt” or like “Are they ignoring me?” and so I like talked to them and they were like “We’re, like, Ok” and I was like relieved and said “Like, what have you guys been doing, like?”

I listened to this and was like, “MAKE IT STOP!”. Since when has cheerleader talk been acceptable? When I was a kid I would say the following cheer with my friends to crack each other up –

“Like totally, for sure
I just got a manicure
The sun, up there,
Is bleaching out my golden hair!
24, 34, I don’t know the stupid score!
Like, gag me with a spoon!”

And we all thought it was funny because it was too ridiculous to think that someone would actually speak like that. Lo and behold, fiction has now become fact!

Another statement I hate: “That was the bomb!”

Yet my 48 year old mother says it with such enthusiasm that you would think she had gone back in time to become Paris Hilton’s twin. When I think of that statement, I wonder how it came about. No one would ever look back in history to reflect on Hiroshima as being TOTALLY cool! So when someone talks about a really tasty avocado dip, why does “That is the BOMB!” apply? I don’t get it. Is the avocado dip packed with so much yummy goodness that the flavors interact with each other and then explode in your mouth and blow all your teeth out? If that’s the case, then I really don’t want to try it.

What about “You Go, Girl!”. Where do you want me to go? Are you saying I should leave? Is that a compliment or do you want me to get away? Why are you pumping your fist in the air when you say it?

“Talk to the hand, cuz the face ain’t listening!”. No, I would rather not talk to your hand. See that lump three feet above your butt is the only extremity that has the holes on each side called “Ears” and those holes enable you to comprehend the words that are coming out of the bigger hole in my lump, my “mouth”. Say it with me now, “Hands do not have listening abilities”. And the word “ain’t” isn’t a word. I don’t care if it is in the dictionary!

I wonder what the suicide rate for high school English teachers, like, is.

Yeah, It's Been A While...

So sue me! You won't get anything out of it! Could I be any more busy? I think not. In the midst of going to work full-time, attending 7 credits of college, working on getting my certificate in Biblical Counseling and leading a small group at church...I have this blog (among others!) which should have been updated at least once a month...but that has not been the case! So bring it on!