Grrrr... Ralph Lauren!

Sooooo... a rather silly little request, but... does anyone know what the hell this pattern is called? I can find neither hide nor hair of it anywhere! Plenty of people selling it on eBay, and I bought it just a week ago at Marshalls... but no trace of it on Ralph Lauren's website or anywhere else!

I really just want one Queen or King-sized flat sheet, so I can make a duvet cover for my bed! It seems wasteful to buy a whole set (which is the only way they seem to sell it) because I only use full-sized sheets (which I have just bought), and so a too-big fitted sheet plus two pillowcases is wasted.

But it has become a bigger obsession for me, because although I can find PLENTY of named patterns on ralphlauren.com and throughout the web, this one is unnamed. Nothing on the packaging or tags, and on eBay (where several of them are listed) they can only describe it by appearance, even though there are plenty of other RL sheets being sold with the pattern name included. It just doesn't make sense! It's like a red-headed stepchild that RL dumped on the world and can barely bring himself to acknowledge (although it is packaged with his name).

Anyone who can help me?

Dear Elizabeth Warren

Please don't run for President... in 2016. You can run in 2020 or later, but not this time. We've seen what happened when a bright and engaging up-and-comer took advantage of the buzz and jumped in the race too early with Barack Obama. I think he wasn't ready. Another term or two in Congress would have given him more savvy, more experience and more equipment to do the job, and he has badly needed it.

You have the wit and the intelligence and the drive to fix problems that we desperately need, but I want you to not have a half-baked presidency; I want you to go in with the skills and preparation to fight a four or eight year battle against Big Money and not fall short. We need someone like you in the worst way... but a fully matured politician (as much as I hate that term) and not a beginner. I want you to survive and thrive in the office.

Christmas Letter 2014

Christmas 2014

Dear Family and Friends,

Christmas Letter, as per the usual. Let's see, news...

A Biscuit in a basket

Added a Cat. I acquired a gorgeous white-and-biscuit-colored kitten in late Summer named, appropriately, Biscuit. He is exceedingly floofy (his tail looks like a vast pouf of cotton candy), and bids fair to be bigger than either Bunny or Squeaky George. He is already large and in charge, and indifferent to things like other kitties' Personal Space. Very much an Alpha kitty, and he chases both his older siblings up and down the hall, especially George. George is still rather hissy about this addition to the household, and yet his affinity for licking cannot keep him from occasionally giving Biscuit a bath. It usually goes like this:

1) *hiss*

2) *lick-lick-lick-lick*

3) George remembers he doesn't like Biscuit

4) *hiss*

5) George runs away

I should mention that George is a big old coward. Bunny is beautifully dignified, as always, although she has been annoyed into reminding Biscuit of his place with an occasional *whap* of her paw. Her regular response is to simply go away when he gets all up in her grill. When he is full grown, I suspect he will prove to be either be a Maine Coon or part Ragdoll, and MUCH bigger than either of them. Hopefully he won't be a bully. But he is far more affectionate and cuddly with me than either of them, so in the "Who does Mommy love best?" contest, he's pretty much already won. But I make sure the others get equal time. Although Biscuit's determined attempts to drape himself over my keyboard while napping in my lap is a nuisance. As is the curtain-climbing.

Discovered my Specific Allergies. I had pinkeye twice this Fall, and the second bout was so bad that my eye doctor got a little freaked out. The attending doctor insisted I go get my allergies checked (it was allergy-based conjunctivitis) and it turns out that I am allergic to dust mites, cockroaches, and dog hair. Thank God, not my cats! But I am starting to take steps to reduce the dust mites in particular, with special bedding, more aggressive cleaning, and eventually putting in hardwood floors.

Resumed Choir. I went back to singing alto with the Chamber Singers and Parish Choir at St. Bartholomew. I took a choral sabbatical in the Fall of 2013, and so when it started up again this year I jumped back in, and was relieved that the burnout I was feeling 12 months earlier was completely gone. I do seem to spend a lot of time singing... more in the last 5-10 years than in all the years prior to that! I genuinely prefer singing backup or harmonizing with other singers -- I have very little wish to be a soloist.

Pining for a Farm. This year I really began to long for a property out in the country, or at least remote enough that I could keep some livestock without bothering my neighbors. My dream situation is a few acres (conveniently located near interstate exits so I can be on the road to clients frequently) south of Nashville, a smallish house, and space for beehives, and eventually maybe even chicken and goats. I want to garden and putter about and have a project shed. I want to have barn cats. I am technically "looking," but with full knowledge that it will be an Act of God if such a property were to come available in my limited price range and location.

Acquired Furniture. I finally got the last two pieces I have wanted to get for some time; a china cupboard and a good dining room table and chairs. Both were bought secondhand from dear friends, and I cannot express the satisfaction I get every time I look across the room at them. It makes me feel like I’m FINALLY a grownup! However, the floor around them is usually covered in cat toys, so it is rarely as tidy as I would like.

Ran Out of Updates. Seriously, I am sitting here racking my brain for anything new to tell about events of the past year, and I am drawing a blank! Things happened; I worked, I had appointments with computer clients, I spent time with friends and family... but nothing particularly notable! So I shall leave it there. 2014: A quiet year for me; not necessarily for the rest of the world.

God bless you and your family in 2015.

Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.

Love,

Susan

Character Flaw or Characteristic?

Read this article on Introverts first: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/11/07/physical-behavior-of-introverts_n_6069438.html

I felt relieved reading this... some of the points made are about things I've always felt somewhat guilty about; I feared I was selfish and a navel-gazer. I don't like trivial small talk. If I ask you how you are, I actually want to know, and if you ask me, it never occurs to me that you don't actually want to know!

I hate answering the phone unless I am actively waiting for a call. The majority of calls I get make me pick up the phone to see who it is, and sigh and mutter "please just leave me alone!" unless it is friends or family. This is why I have come to prefer texting and email; it gives me time to consider my response, which apparently is what I need. In addition, I don't like in-depth phone calls, because I am missing a lot of visual cues that I need to gauge my response. They're fine for a brief exchange of information without all the "How are you?" preludes.

I don't tend to think of myself as being overstimulated when I get stressed out; but the distractions of people in conversation nearby makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes at work. I can't tune them out, and so I feel fragmented, and I can feel my energy draining out of me.

I have no problem being on stage. It's never frightened me, even when I was doing improv. I was mediocre at best, but it never made me nervous. I can stand in front of a group of people and talk to them at any time about anything.

When in a large group setting, like choral singing, or a classroom, I move to the periphery if at all possible. So for me it's not the aisle seat, which is worthless once you're in the air since you can't leave; I pick the window seat. If it's choir practice, I sit on the far right on the outer seat of the altos if I can. I have a rather low-grade claustrophobia, but I can manage it fairly well. I can sit in the middle... but it will take energy.

When it is night and time for bed, even in my own home I always feel relieved that I can go in my bedroom and shut the door; moreso if I am in company. Heck, I'm even relieved to shut the kitties out! They are distracting and wakeful. So you can imagine when I am at my yearly work convention with 12,000 attendees, and I'm running the General Information booth! So many times co-workers or friends want to go out and do something in the evenings... I just want to go home and recharge.

Conversely, once I've recharged, I need to expend some of that energy. I do need to be around people on an almost daily basis, but for much less time than everyone else, it seems. This is one reason I suspect I'm meant to stay single. I simply can't imagine what it would be like to have a husband who was always around!

Singleness vs. Long-Term Projects

Homesteaders: Pie Town, New Mexico 1940 October
Photo by Russell Lee

 

So... of late I have been newly aware of the limitations in being Single. For years, 95% of the time I have enjoyed my freedom and independence... leaving parties when I liked, only hanging out with people I like, doing nothing much when I come home from work except sit down and watch TV, eating food straight from the container, scheduling whatever I wish whenever I wish. Come and go as I bloody well please. When you live alone, there's no-one to annoy you, to compromise with, to take into consideration of when you make noise late at night or fart or don't feel like sharing food.

But there's also no-one to do Big Things with. My friendships tend to be primarily social, and don't generally extend into the nitty-gritty parts of daily life. If I have something in the car that is too heavy for me to bring up the stairs safely, too bad. If there is a spider to be killed, I have to do it. If the car is on the fritz, I have to find my own ride to and from the shop. If Squeaky George throws up his dinner in various places around the condo, I have to clean it up. If I want to go on vacation, there's no-one guaranteed available to go with me. There's no-one to feed the cats if I'm working late. If I have an accident, I have to drive myself to the hospital if I'm not incapacitated, or ride alone in the ambulance. This is part of the 5% of dissatisfaction I have with Single Life; fortunately it usually takes the shape of minor inconveniences. And I do have friends and family I can call for emergencies; they just aren't on-call, exactly!

However, lately I have been wishing for someone to team up with on projects. I need help doing those things I am too lazy to do, or need accountability to help follow through with worthwhile things. For example:

• I wish I had someone to exercise with regularly, to go on walks with or to go to the gym with several times a week. I'd like someone who'd help me, as I would help him. A teammate.
• I wish I had a partner to buy a piece of property and build a house together; like one of those Not-Too-Big Houses that is cosy and charming and well-designed.
• I wish I had someone who wanted to plan & carry out home improvements; the kind of things I think would be nice in my house, but then I consider what it will entail, and that I will have to do it all on my own, and I sigh and forget about it.
• I wish I had someone to do yard work with, in our own yard. I want to garden, to keep bees, and maybe someday even chickens and goats.
• I wish I had someone to travel with. I really don't like the discomforts of travel, but if I can settle into a place for a week or more, I'd love to go back to England or Japan or Europe... but not on my own again. I need help.
• I wish I had someone whose strengths complemented my weaknesses, and vice-versa.

And no, these are not tasks for a Friend, to my way of thinking. I have had dozens of friends leave town over the years, or marry and have children, or have other occupations that, because they aren't bound to me, they will want to do instead. Please don't make recommendations of That Nice Girl You Met That Time Who Is Single Too or That Guy at Our Church Who Is Always Available. I have plenty of folks like that around me already. I'm not lonely; I just need someone who isn't going anywhere, who is bound to me for a lifetime. And I'm spoiled enough by 40+ years of freedom to not just want SOMEONE; I'd like a husband who I'd enjoy the process with.

I'm afraid I have lost my romantic streak. I discovered recently that I found myself unexpectedly annoyed when watching Franco Zeffirelli's Romeo & Juliet. It doesn't feel romantic, it feels stupidly unnecessary. Romance fiction, rom-coms, etc. - no more enjoyment. Romantic love seems inconceivable. I've seen too many failed love affairs and too many horrific divorces. Since we all know that the spark of romantic love dies out eventually, and the best you can hope for is affection and mutual respect and friendship, I don't think this is necessarily a bad state of thought for me to arrive at... Although I kind of miss it; it's a nice world to visit and fantasize about being in love myself. But now I feel like someone living on a homestead in the wilderness who just needs someone to help bring in the crops.

Why I Hate Travel

It's that time of year again... time to plan for a trip to the beach for Spring Break or Summer vacation... or a trip to some lake or city or country... and once again I find myself in this unpleasant valley of no-where I actually want to go and with no-one to actually travel with. And yet, I pine for some kind of vacation.

I am actually happiest when I take off a week for vacation and actually stay home...

• No need to pack
• No need to travel
• No need to spend money on an overpriced condo or hotel
• No need to find someone to feed my cats
• No need to worry about the fact that I have so few friends who want to/are available to vacation with me, or that I want to vacation with
• No need to travel alone (which I used to enjoy, but now find boring and depressing)
• I can get things done around the condo, like repairs and procrastinated decor ideas
• I can hang out with friends for lunch and dinner, as opposed to being in a strange city where there's no-one to eat with

And yet... and yet, I feel this lack, this loss of some indefinable something. I haven't ever really enjoyed taking a trip, except for a handful of occasions that are difficult to duplicate, or were delightful for just one season in my life, and have failed when tried again (the aforementioned travelling alone). But I still feel this loss of something that everyone else I know seems to enjoy and expects to do, year after year.

There are circumstances under which I can imagine a vacation would be fun... the right group of people, the right location, that perfect balance of companionship and alone-time. But at this stage of my life, that all seems as likely as winning the lottery.

Why must this be so difficult a thing to accomplish?! Why does it seem so impossible? My cowardice and laziness are partly to blame, I know... my need for solitude is another. My limited relationships is another still. And I post this online, knowing that it will be seen by friends who would travel with me and are hurt and bewildered that I don't want to travel with them. It's nothing to do with them; it's to do with this strange block I seem to have, feeling smothered or claustrophobic with them in another city.

My family is not really an option either. We're not cold to each other, but we don't ever seem to think of each other as travelling companions. Probably because when we were growing up, we went on so few vacations.

Let me emphasize that I'm not writing this looking for ideas - I think I've heard them all. I've considered them all. I guess I'm writing it out, looking for some kind of inner acceptance that I am NOT a vacationer. I'd like to go to the beach... but literally the physical beach itself is all I care for. I'd like to be in London... but don't want to spend the money or take the flight. I'd like travelling companions... but want to be alone most of the time.

Is it possible to just be a Homebody, and be ok with it? To not feel some sense of loss or disappointment that I don't like travelling? To give up this fruitless and depressing battle every year to find some kind of holiday getaway? I don't know. I'm in my mid-40s and I've yet to find peace with it.

Free Marissa Alexander NOW

Thank goodness, they threw out the ludicrous guilty verdict... but they have to choose whether to re-try the case. Please read up on this, and write a letter. Copy-paste away!

http://freemarissanow.tumblr.com/post/63774813232/dropthecase

Read

The Library, by Lori Nix

I used to be a reader. And I'm ashamed now to say that I'm not any longer. It was a slow, gradual process; college took time from it, then full-time work, then TV became more reliable a source of entertainment, then doing needlework or crafts while I watched TV made picking up a book even less likely. I never stopped buying books, though. I have an entire wall of bookshelves, floor to ceiling, full of books. Most of them I have actually read, but an alarming majority I've bought and never even opened. I find it tremendously difficult to get rid of them; I was always so proud of my reputation as a reader, and I felt a great deal of my value was dependent on how many books I owned and read. A library or a bookstore was what made any location worthwhile to me.

So how to change that habit? Part of the problem comes from the fact that in the last 15-20 years I have become far less interested in fiction than in fact; history, pop culture, biographies, and sociology are more reliably interesting to me now than fiction. I used to inhale novels, picking up and reading SO many books that now I have no interest in. I read questionable fluff too; romance novels for a long stretch there, graphic novels, etc. But now I crave information more than being swept away by a story. That's one reason historical fiction has always been a good match for me; fact combined with fiction. But that means all of the novels and books I collected over the first 2 decades of my life were no longer of interest to me.

On Monday I had 2 hours to kill between work and an appointment, and I was too far from home to make going there an option. So I decided to go to the Franklin library and find a book and just sit and read. And it was WONDERFUL. I picked up a novel by Phillipa Gregory (reasonably decent historical fiction writer) and read for ages. I did it again on Wednesday after work - I knew if I went home when I got off at 4, I would probably take a nap or sit down at the computer... so I went to the library across the street and read for about 90 minutes. This time I checked out a book and brought it home and finished it that same night.

I wish I still had the ability to read until I was sleepy and then just turn out the light and go to sleep, but I seem to have lost that disposition. A book at bedtime makes me very wakeful, and when I read one, I inevitably take an hour or more to actually fall asleep.

I don't like the person I am now who prefers TV to books... I feel like I'm succumbing to more mental laziness and have lost something precious. I've found an author I like right now, so I'm good for a while. But when that's all gone, what will keep me motivated to keep reading? Beyond getting rid of the TV alltogether? AND the ability to watch media online? Not sure.

Statement of Faith

I feel very keenly that my personal pursuit of God has taken a significant turn in the past decade... I grew up in what was ostensibly a charismatic, fundamentalist church, with a puritanistic stepfather who sought to maintain order and limited what we were allowed to do socially. And like most little girls raised within a more restricted environment (and being fairly lazy and unadventurous), I did not think to question the validity of what we were taught and what was modeled for us. The books we read, the teachings of the church, the commands of our father... all of these constructed the building of our faith in Christ. I was baptized in a river at a youth retreat (like you do!), I was intimidated into REALLY receiving the Holy Spirit (which involved digging through my past life and getting all worked up and weeping copiously, which was VERY therapeutic!), and so forth.

Time moved on. I dealt with a series of bouts of depression every few years or so, which led me to seek comfort from a God that I realized I had built more or less in the image of my father; restrictive, punishing, cold, judgmental. I got counseling from a Christian family counseling ministry, which gently showed me that I could let go of all of those restrictions. I moved to another church, much like the first, but less hippy-dippy. Hands did not need to be raised during songs and prayers to prove you were a valid Christian.

Depressions and personal growth came and went. I started attending an Episcopalian church, which initially drew me because of the reverence and liturgy, but ultimately kept me because of the community and the realization that this church would thrive, almost regardless of who was in the pulpit. This, after 30 years of attending 2 churches formed by charismatic preachers, that declined when those pastors left, and which had their share of abuses.

Right before turning 30, I went through a nuclear explosion of anxiety and came out on the other side stronger and more self-aware than I could have ever expected. One of the lasting mantras I emerged with was that "God loves me too much to leave me as I am," which made every difficulty, every personal struggle into a big step forward in my maturity. Then in 2001, I woke up to the world around me. I think a lot of Americans did. I started paying attention to what was going on, in politics and world affairs.

In 2007, I joined a campaign to free a young man from unjust imprisonment in Central America. The entire year was taken up with the fight. And I woke up to the cruelty and reality of the world outside my comfortable existence, and I mourned our losses and the utterly irrational hate directed at this man. Finally in December of that year his sentence was overturned and he was commanded to be let go... and Evil fought to keep him there. He would likely be killed if he was not removed from that country. The evening I realized that we might not get him out of there, that Evil might win, was a tiny taste of Gethsemane for me, and I cried for hours.

I could no longer excuse or ignore the evil of the world, nor could I avoid the realization that the energy of the Church*, my community of faith, was being spent on fighting abortion, gay marriage, and evolution. To paraphrase the words of Marley in A Christmas Carol, "Mankind should have been our business," and it was not. We were more worried about these issues than we were about the suffering out there in the larger world. Our efforts to control our society and our supposedly virtuous way of life was more important than the tears of millions. Evil was slaughtering lives left and right, metaphorical blood pooling at our feet as feeble children cried and clutched at our legs, while the members of the Church fixated on a tiny box on the floor and argued over whether we were allowed to open it.

That night left me changed. The right and wrong, the sinfulness or virtue of those particular battles became a minor issue to me. My disappointment in my Church, although never enough to make me doubt the goodness and might of my God, did make me less and less inclined to spend my time within the structure we had built. The almost arbitrary rules and regulations of what Christian life should be began to crumble around me. But I knew God was real, and Jesus, and the Bible... so what guidelines should I live by? I focused on those specific things Jesus said (the red letter words), and in particular Matthew 22:36-40:

“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

While my innate laziness and fearfulness has kept me from flinging myself out into the world to do what I can to serve (particularly because I don't have an idea of what I should be doing specifically, and because I am still waaaaay too selfish and addicted to my own comfort), I trust that God is continuing to change me and mature me, so that one day I will be spending all my time and efforts in helping mankind in true service. Someday, I won't be afraid. I don't know what it will look like... but I am hoping I am ready when the time comes.

Some of the things that are becoming clear to me...

• I am content for there to be mysteries of the faith, and don't feel the need to be obsessed with theology. 
• I don't need to be utterly sure about whether the Bible is to be taken literally or not.
• I need to stay within the community of the Church. I am part of a larger body, so I cannot go off and function by myself as, say, a little toe.
• I am more interested in the truth than in preserving the Church with lies. If a congregation or denomination depends on lies to remain standing, then it needs to fall.
• I don't get to judge the sins of others. (this is one I all too easily forget)
• God is big enough for evolution. I don't see how he couldn't use it as part of his creation process.
• While I think abortion is wrong, I also think that the life of an unborn soul is perfectly safe in God's hands, and he would prefer we take care of the mothers to-be who are already here and need our help.
• Homosexuality is... too big for me. I am pragmatic and I like a tidy world, and homosexuality doesn't neatly fit within that from a biological standpoint. But I also think that God doesn't care. Plus that I like shrimp and scallops, and since God told Peter to start eating them, then by the transitive process, homosexuality is ok. The completion of Mosaic Law through Jesus' sacrifice, ya'll.

There are 3 primary prayers that I find myself repeating often;

1. "Help me to be a good servant today... help me to serve others well,"
2. "Please don't let me be led astray... don't let me be deceived into thinking contrary to your will." 
3.  "Please teach me to love you more. I'm still scared of you most of the time. But I know you're good."

*The Church: the entirety of Christians - not just one church building and the people within it, but all followers of Christ across the world. Although now that I say that, I realize this essay is about the American Church primarily.

Is It Possible...

Is it possible to be an old spinster and not continually weep about it? While my life has gotten happier with each decade, I find I am approaching a particular wall that has broken more hearts than we will ever know. I am 44 now, and my window for childbearing is about to snap shut, never to open again. Don't get me wrong - I don't pine to have my own child; there are aspects to motherhood I would love to have, but I think I treasure little things like sleep and free time much, much more.

How do you live a life on the other side of this wall without becoming one of THOSE women? The ones that live alone or with a roommate and work in the nursery at church or on the hospitality committee and stand out as the Familiar Old Single at parties and gatherings, and presumably live lives of quiet desperation? They don't go around weeping, but they must cry, right? At the death of family, with only the fervent hope that their nieces and nephews (if they are fortunate enough to have them) or their savings will be enough to carry them safely through to the end of their lives...

Because the friends won't be there for it. They change too much. I'm in my 4th or 5th generation of friendships, because people change or people move away. If I lived in a town where people stayed for generations, that would be a comfort, but we don't live in that world anymore. And so when I'm in my 60s and later, I'll probably have an entirely new set of friends, and I don't care who says that your friends become your family, they don't, not really. Because there's always a new job or a new boyfriend or spouse to take them somewhere else, and a new set of circumstances to make them less compatible or even friendly. We are all in that inevitable circuit.

So when I win the lottery (if I would only remember to buy a ticket occasionally!) I'm starting a commune. I've dreamed of this since college, but it has changed shape a few times along the way (originally it was an apartment building). It can be like a little town of sorts, on 10+ acres, with 3-6 houses (depending on how many want to join), but a blend of the young and old, single and married, fertile and childless. There would be a massive garden, and acreage for livestock if we wanted. People who knew basic car maintenance, and people who knew how to sew on buttons and hem pants. Babysitters for the young families, and someone to give you a ride when you needed to go to the hospital. A car to borrow when yours is in the shop. Dinners with a family for the singles, especially on holidays. People to help fill in the gaps.

If people wanted to move on, then the commune would buy back their house, and wait to fill it with someone who could help balance out the community. Maybe do a rent-to-own arrangement, where people could be vetted for a year before being allowed to buy! Everyone owns their own property; but lives there with the understanding that we all need something from each other, and we try and take care of one another. Perhaps there would be a clubhouse of sorts, where everyone could come for movie nights and dinners. Freedom with support. Needs being met, and people being needed.

But apart from that utopia, is it possible to make your single self into someone who isn't an invitation for pity? To become someone enviable and delightful and welcomed wherever you go? And how on earth do you make that transition from someone on the verge of a empty future to someone wonderful? Preferably with a minimum of fuss or effort.

A Christmas Day Letter, 2012

Dear Friends and Family, 

I do not think I have ever been so very late with my yearly Christmas card. Part of it has been a typically overbusy December, but it has also been equal parts "I don't feel like doing it this year!" and "Why do I have to send it out BEFORE Christmas?" I don't know about you, but every year it seems I get a little more bored, or tired, or disappointed with aspects of the Holiday Battering Ram that begins at Halloween and ends on New Year's Day.

I am trying to come up with a modified approach; keeping the things I like, discarding the things I don't, and above all, remembering WHY we even started going through this all in the first place. Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas... all of them have good and enjoyable components; All Hallows-eve before All Saints Day on November 1st (and costumes! and candy!), Thanksgiving for our blessings (with food! and pie!), Christmas for the birth of Jesus (and presents! and food! and trees! and food! and music! and food!), and finally New Year's Eve to finally shut down the whole bloody mess.

So I put up a tree and a wreath, but no ornaments or swag. I gave gifts, but as many as possible were homemade. I baked, but most was given away. And even then, I feel a sense of disappointment because some unknown anticipation wasn't met. Partially because for me, Christmas as a single person is naturally difficult. I will go to my sister's house today for a big-ass dinner and presents, so I'm not completely alone... but yet, it's simply not possible to avoid the realization that the older singles of this world are inevitably Secondary and Tertiary in the pecking order of the modern Christmas.

Lest you worry that I am falling into a Victorian spinster decline, let me assure you that I have had a splendid morning sleeping in later than any of you ; that I had a lovely cup of coffee and homemade sausage-cheese balls for breakfast while watching Lord of the Rings DVDs, had Bunny curled up in my lap for a longer spell than Squeaky George will usually allow (interfering little booger that he is) and did some housecleaning that is long overdue (and barely scratches the surface of the Mess That Is My Home). This is the 95% of my life that doesn't actually mind the singleness. It's a sweet life.

It's a pretty busy life, too. Same as last year, more or less; I still work for the American Economic Association at Vanderbilt, I still have my House Calls computer repair business on the side, I still sing regularly with the Music Ministry at St. Bartholomew's Church, and I still have two cats. But there is a new couch.

Bunny & Squeaky George, moments before
George stops licking and starts biting.

You may have noticed that there is a new kitty-name. Daisy (Bunny's twin sister) decided this past spring to hop off my second floor balcony and go on an extended Walkabout. At the time I was devastated, but after a couple of months I decided Bunny needed a companion to keep her from getting too lonesome, and so Squeaky George, orange tabby kitten, was added to the family. He is energetic, cheerful, very vocal (and very squeaky) and plagues the life out of Bunny. She has become a very quiet, wistful cat (with a reproachful expression of “why did you bring that bitey kitten into this house?”), and George refuses to respect her boundaries. He regularly chases her around or pesters her so she'll get out of my lap so he can sit there. If he weren't such a purry, entertaining and cuddly kitty, he would be intolerable. As it is, I suspect he's good for her. He provides occasional aerobic activity, in between bouts of enthusiastically shredding Kleenex and chewing labels off of power cords.

My nieces and nephews are all growing exponentially, it seems—naturally, the girls are all lovely, the boys all handsome, with varying personalities that are more interesting every year. Elliott is the first to go off to college this past fall, and I miss him more than I thought I would. More for the convenience of having him with a car, in town, available to help me lift heavy things. ;) And because I have been pressed into frequent service to chauffeur his younger siblings hither and yon, since he is no longer there to split the load with his mom. He’s also got a serious girlfriend relationship, which I am watching over via social media. God bless Facebook, and a generation incapable of filtering what they post therein.

The second tear-duct surgery (Dacrocystorhinostomy, or DCR) I had last December has ALSO failed to fix the problem of a chronically clogged tear-duct, and so we’re trying it again in February and this time adding rhinoplasty with an ENT surgeon, to make sure there’s plenty of room in my nasal cavities for the tears to flow down into my sinuses. (Don’t worry, I did get a second opinion!) I am very, very tired of this, but I remind myself that a drippy right eye is small potatoes on the scale of chronic health issues.

I still do an excessive amount of needlework and crochet, and to add to my pile of Intended Projects That I Will Get To Someday, I have begun to knit socks. There’s something exhilarating about making an actual practical, functional piece of clothing; in fact, I am going to frame my first sock the same way as I would frame a cross-stitch sampler, I’m so proud of it!

I shall leave matters there so I can get this sucker printed out and mailed before I go on my annual AEA work-trip to another far-flung city on New Year’s Day. This year we get to go to San Diego, where I will eat lavish meals, will work 10-12 hours/day, and see very little of the city. But at least I’ll be able to add it to my list of Cities That I’ve Been To But Couldn’t Really Describe Very Well.

God bless and keep you and your families safe,

Love,

Susan

Litany of Excuses

I'm feeling rather disheartened today... it's been a busy week with more work than usual, which I am grateful for. But it also means that I have neglected the exercise I am trying to add to my schedule. And that makes me feel guilty and a certain degree of failure.

See, I know if I WANTED to exercise, I would find the time - ballroom dance is a perfect example; I would dance 8+ hours a day, gladly. But when exercise is the absolute last thing you want to do, then it is easy to find excuses and blame other factors. I could get up and run at 6 am... but I hate early-morning exercise the most; it combines two bad things instead of just one. OK, so then go at night; I do well with evening exercise! But at night it is dark, and my complex is poorly lit, and it makes me nervous.

And so it goes. I need to play with my cats so they don't get bored and attack each other. I haven't drunk enough water today. That burrito is doing a number on my digestion. I need to finish crocheting this present for my friend. I deserve a rest. I need to watch DWTS before I find out the results somewhere else. My right hip is hurting. My left hip is hurting. My right knee is acting weird. My arches are killing me.

And then there's the "why do I have to do as much as my trainer wants? why can't I just do 3 days instead of 5? Why do I have to do 3 miles, why can't I just do 2?" It's ugly and I'm ashamed and yet I don't know how to not give up so easily and give in so quickly. I'm over 40, and I now realize the consequences of taking the easy path my whole life. I lack discipline for any activity or study I don't like or don't do well. I don't know how to respond to the natural stress and strain of exercise, as opposed to legitimate pain; I am inclined to quit both.

Even this post is a way to avoid reading the chapter for my women's group in the morning.

I wish there was some kind of therapy system whereby I could unlearn these lazy habits of mine, and learn some persistence and self-discipline. I lack the willpower to do it on my own. I will say this - when I was unemployed and had loads of time, I had no problem adding workouts to my schedule! But when my day and night are full of work and appointments, exercise is the last thing I want to do.

Rabbit-Trailers

As I get older and more aware of the world around me (really; I look back on my 20s and I feel like I was completely oblivious!) I have started detecting patterns of behavior that drive me crazy. I'm sure they are different for everyone. But there is one tendency I see in aging people that I think we can all agree is unpleasant to everyone.

I speak of Rabbit-Trailing in Storytelling. You may have a different term for it, but the basic structure is this: a speaker is sharing a story or anecdote. From the beginning, they tack on details and information unnecessary for the story to be comprehended, but that in fact are extremely boring and often completely derail the primary point of the narration.

Example
Primary point of tale: I go to visit my grandmother, and my car breaks down on the way back.

So I was going to visit my Grandmother in Batesville, and of course I had to pass through Memphis on my way; my cousin Rachel lives on the south side of the city in the suburb called... dang, what is that area called? I can never remember, it's Williamsburg or Williamsport or Williamson or something like that, I can never remember when I am telling someone about that part of Memphis, but anyway I stopped to see Rachel on my way; she's not been feeling well since she had a kidney taken out and has been unable to go back to work, and we had a nice lunch at a restaurant in the downtown area near the river, a seafood place called Martindale's or something like that, I had the most amazing grilled salmon there with a pesto glaze that I really want to try and recreate for myself at home; I talked to the NICEST server who was able to tell me some of the ingredients and would you believe it, one of them is lemon pepper? I have never thought to add that to a pesto! Anyway, I had the nicest visit with Rachel and we just talked and talked for hours until I realized that I needed to get back on the road if I was going to make it to Batesville before it got dark, because whenever I drive in the dark Grandmother and Mom both get so anxious and keep calling me and asking me where I am, you would think I was still a college student, with how little opinion they have of my navigation skills! So I'm on the road and as I pass through this tiny town called Wynne, I spot on the left side of the street a little car repair shop that I have never noticed before, but it looks so incredibly bedraggled and positively TRASHED that it looks over 50 years old, and I remember thinking to myself, Boy I hope I never have to go to that shop, I might never come back out of it, it looks so creepy! But I finally make it to Batesville and have a really good visit with my Grandmother, and we drive her car the entire time I'm there because it is just SO much easier for her to get in and out of it, because the seats are higher and so she doesn't have to bend her knees and swivel as much to get in, and I tell you, I don't know how she manages on her own because it really seems very uncomfortable for her to get in and out of her car, it's one of those old Mercury Marquis sedans the size of a BOAT, but it's in really nice shape because she drives it so little and...*

You get my point.

I think this is the sort of habit that everyone can agree is extremely annoying; but I also think it is the sort of habit that can be curbed, if we can only find a way to make the speaker aware of what they are doing. A great deal of tedium can be avoided and society will be the better for it. I think it is more prevalent in the aged (and I suspect) women, which means a certain amount of politeness and consideration must be employed so that they don't become offended. Because really, we have all encountered Rabbit-Trailers in our lives, and I suspect most of us have thought to ourselves, "I will NEVER get to be like that!" so it stands to reason that if we realize we are doing it, we will try hard to stop.

So spread this post among your friends and family. It doesn't need to be specifically to the ones who are doing it; but it needs to be posted on FB and various social media so that hopefully, the Rabbit-Trailers will stumble across it and make the connection to themselves.

Steps to Reverse Rabbit-Trailing

1. Be aware that you are a Rabbit-Trailer.
2. Tell your friends about your problem.
3. Give them permission to stop you when you start Rabbit-Trailing.

If we can spread the word about this pernicious disease, we will all be a great deal happier with our friends, and the aged will be far less likely to be avoided out of boredom or annoyance.

*story not based on real events; invented to make a point.

Rules for Guests at Seminole Lodge

During my recent trip to Ft. Lauderdale, we went to Edison's Summer Home - great tour and property! Anyway, my sister Amy and I were much taken by the "Rules for Guests" they had posted, written by Edison's daughter, Madeleine.

Rules for Guests at Seminole Lodge

• Don't cabbage unto yourself all the fish poles. This has been done by guests thereby incurring the grave disapproval of the entire family.
• Don't kill the black snakes under the porch. They are there for a purpose.
• If you don't think Seminole Lodge is the loveliest spot you ever wore your rubbers in - don't let on to Father.
• Don't fail to return to your room during part of each day - so that the family may squabble without embarrassment.
• Don't stop Madeleine if you see her start violently anywhere alone. She's only trying to work out her disposition.
• Don't capsize in the sailboat if you can help it. Remember there isn't any man to rescue you in 750 miles. And besides there are the sharks.
• Don't ask us anything about Palm Beach. We don't want to know.

Feeling Bitter, How About You?

I don't want to be married. Not now, anyway. But the inconveniences of spinsterhood are becoming more noticeable as I get older. I think my primary reasons at present for possibly acquiring a husband are 1) having someone to vacation and dine with, 2) having someone else bring the heavy stuff up from the car for a change, and 3) not having to be one of the handful of women in my church and social circle who have no anniversaries or birth announcements to make on Facebook.

Tired, tired, tired of it all, I say! I'm getting more and more cranky with every wedding program that I make at my church; the 20-somethings getting married with so much optimism and joy, and knowing that by the time they are my age they will be almost done with producing and raising their children and preparing to send them to college... and I will not even have begun the process at all!

What's even worse is doing the wedding programs for kids that I USED TO BABYSIT. Just mortifying. Can you imagine?!

Sorry, it's a 5% kind of week. I have accompanied my sister and her family to the beach, and am awkward in the energy and flow of a family with several kids. I have little patience, and have patently become the kind of spinster aunt I never thought possible - I scold the kids for ordinary bickering, and make them make their beds (or do it myself when they don't move fast enough for my liking!), and wipe up the smallest of messes because it sets my teeth on edge to see bits of food scattered on a table, just waiting to be smeared on a careless sleeve.

I guess I should be looking forward to the day when I am old enough that people stop asking me if I am married or have kids; they'll just assume it because I look Mom-ish and move on to more interesting topics. When the steadily burning and shortening fuse to the menopause bomb has finally exploded, and I don't have the tantalizing possibility of pregnancy and children hanging over me. The loss of expectations will make life easier.

I do not hope for what I cannot have!
I do not cling to things I cannot keep!
The more you cling to things, the more you love them,
The more the pain you suffer when they're taken from you...

Ah, but if you have no expectations,
You can never have a disappointment.

Stephen Sondheim, Passion, "I Read"
source: http://www.lyricsondemand.com/soundtracks/p/passionlyrics/ireadlyrics.html

Easy to get a trifle weepy over it all... but if I draw back and look at the life I lead; the satisfaction in my work, the freedom to come and go as I please... I don't miss marriage and children at all. And it would be stupid and unfair to expect people to be silent about their spouses and children just to spare me! 95% of the time I am happy as I am. This is no small thing! I do prize my independence, Married Folk; I assure you that I am enjoying it enough for BOTH of us. ;)

Why I'm Not Looking for My Lost Cat Anymore

Last week (Wednesday) my cat Daisy fell off the balcony of my 2nd floor condo, and ran away. I immediately started looking for her, but to no avail. Friends came and helped me search, by day and by night... I put out signs all over my complex as well as the one next door... I put out her carrier with my nightgown in it under my balcony with some food and water... I opened the screen door so Bunny could meow for her sister... I listed her as Lost with her picture on nashvillepetfinders.com...

It's been over a week now, and although I've had a couple of calls from the complex next door from people who saw her, and gone over and looked around for a few hours, I still can't find Daisy. It's like saying, "I know exactly where she is... she's somewhere in Metro Nashville!" It feels impossible to search out every nook and cranny where she may be hiding.

That first 24 hours was the worst. The temperature plummeted below freezing for the first time in weeks at night, and I was haunted by the idea of her being scared or hungry. She had never set foot outside, and has no survival skills although I knew she could hunt and she has her claws. I cried a lot that first day. Everyone has been so kind and concerned for me, and I am very grateful for the friends on Facebook who responded with suggestions and help.

But I'm not actively looking for her anymore. I have several reasons:

1. I have always felt guilty for keeping my cats exclusively indoors. Yes, it's safer and they'll live longer and not bring in bugs and disease etc., etc... but it feels like I'm imprisoning them. I've always planned that when I get my own house with a yard, that I want my cats to be indoor/outdoor kitties if they like. My complex is not a good place for that, especially with so many dogs! I want them to be able to hunt and be real cats, not some animal restricted to what is convenient for me.
2. Every time Daisy is spotted, she is further away from my condo. This means she's traveling away. To me this feels like she is on a walkabout vacation, and is in no hurry to return.
3. Bunny is a different cat now! I had not realized how much Daisy had monopolized my time. I just thought that Daisy liked cuddling more, and Bunny was more independent. But ever since Daisy has gone, Bunny has "talked" non-stop... she is more of a growly cat than a meower, and she is utterly delightful - she's cuddly and affectionate and playful. I get the feeling that Daisy has been bullying Bunny all this time; if Bunny is in my lap, Daisy would sometimes hop up on the arm of the chair, meow a bit, and Bunny will immediately hop down whereupon Daisy will get into my lap! Daisy has always been something of a skittish coward; well, apparently she's a bully too. I don't want her to return, only to resume treating Bunny as second-class! They never did get on particularly well together; they had a polite but disinterested relationship, it always seemed to me. They would take turns when it was String Playtime, they occasionally fought, but they never cuddled together, which seemed very sad to me.
4. Daisy suffers from Feline Urological Syndrome. This means that crystals tend to form in her bladder, cutting into the lining and giving her bloody urine and scar tissue, making urination difficult. She has been on a prescription diet to treat this for over a year now after drugs failed to fix it, but truth be told, she still has bloody urine even though she seems to be in no discomfort and her litterbox behavior seems normal. I have begun to wonder what her future would be... would the slow deterioration continue and in a year or so I would have to take her to the vet to be put down? This is not something I would want for her. If her days are numbered, then I am much happier for her to be out in nature, and not terrified on a cold metal table at the vet's.

I've been saying for a while that all I had to do to get Daisy to return was to replace her - if I get a kitten to keep Bunny company, I bet you anything Daisy will be at my door within a week. So in June after my vacation I will start looking for a little male kitten for Bunny to (hopefully!) love. I think I'd like a ginger.

It may seem that I am unnaturally calm and dispassionate about this... perhaps I am. I worry that it means I'm not very affectionate! That first day as I wandered around the treeline for the Nth time, calling for her, and continually wiping away the tears, the idea that she might not return was a nightmare. But I'm accustomed to being left behind; I have had many, many friends leave Nashville over the years, and although I used to get really upset about it, I had to find a way to live with abandonment on a regular basis. I don't feel like Daisy has abandoned me, precisely, but my hard-won pragmatism has kicked in and I've found a way to think of her and her future apart from me. I think I've mentally invented a different future for her that is happier and more like she was created to live. I don't want to think of her being unhappy and starving, and although I know she will have a learning curve, I am hopeful that she will adapt, or at least, find a new family who will love her well.

Christ's Ambassadors

I want to make it clear that I am NOT one of those people who quotes scripture as a matter of course, and that in general I am bored senseless by blog posts that discuss passages as in a sermon.

But I heard this one last night at Ash Wednesday services, and it completely sums up the way I have been feeling about the failure of the monolith of modern American Christianity to do practically any of these things... we are called to be so much more than what we are at present, and we are instead being a stumbling block; judging everyone else, lacking compassion, more concerned with protecting our religious and political rights than being a blessing and loving others who need our help...

2 Corinthians 5:20, 6:3-10 (NIV)

We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us.

We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path, so that our ministry will not be discredited. Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as impostors; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

I know there are exceptions; there always are. Plenty of missions are doing just what we've been called to do; like Magdalene House/Thistle Farms, or Room in the Inn - but these are the exception, not the rule. It may be that we must lose everything before we can become what we were intended.

To brighten your day... Thanks, Matt!

In Which I Become a Mean Old Lady

I bullied some young men tonight.

Verona Dining Collection in Antique Honey

I was shopping at one of my favorite stores, World Market in West Nashville... looking at absolutely everything in the store, most of which I can't afford (oh I WANT that dining room set!) Soon after I entered, I heard some horrible screeching that eventually coalesced into some sort of rough accordion. It was soon joined by another indecipherable instrument, and it Kept. On. Going. World Market tries to carry everything, apparently, including decorative rustic musical instruments.

Fifteen minutes of this went on. It was evident that the players were attempting to actually coax some kind of melody from the instruments, and they occasionally succeeded, but rarely in key or tune with each other. I caught a glimpse of them and saw they were some college-aged guys. I began to formulate crushing, cruel put-downs to make them stop... "Could you guys go be douches somewhere else?" was my favorite.

Surely they would stop. But they didn't, and finally when I was crossing an aisle-way I saw them standing in a group about to add a third instrument to the mix. I stood and glared at them, and one glanced up and saw me, and I called out, "Could you guys go be annoying somewhere else? I mean, you have been playing FOREVER!" The sudden feeling of Old Lady Power rushed through me, as I realized I. Did. Not. Care. What. They. Thought. It was intoxicating.

As I walked on, after a brief pause one of them called out, "but, uh, we're musicians, ma'am!" I snapped back, "Well, you need to practice more, but not here!" Another lady an aisle over caught my eye and nodded with satisfaction, and I smiled and shook my head.

But as I wandered on looking with elaborate unconcern at chair slipcovers and china I didn't need, I started considering what had happened. The boys had looked ABASHED. They had looked genuinely surprised. And they were obviously enthusiastic about trying to make these things play music. They were just overgrown boys. And I began to feel sorry. Elliott would have TOTALLY done the same thing. To an instrumentalist, an instrument MUST be attempted!

I began to worry that they would go back to school and tell the story of a fat old bitch in the store who had yelled at them and been insulting, and it would become an anecdote for years to come. I would never be identified, but my spirit would be scorned and vilified for years to come. I would apologize; I would go up and be contrite and say I understood their enthusiasm, that my nephew would have been trying the same thing, and that I was being mean.

But it was too late. They were gone, and I had been bitchy for my own satisfaction and the pleasure of a well-placed zinger. So to the three young men in World Market in West Nashville on a Friday night, I am sorry. You saw me take the next step in my Crazy Cat Lady/Spinster Aunt/Old Maid aging process, and it was into the Mean Old Lady stage. I would have preferred it be the Sassy Old Lady, or the Sharp as Nails Old Lady, but unfortunately I took the Cranky exit. You meant well, and you weren't actually being douchey.

And to the little boy bashing around two cheaply made fans that I said rebukingly to that he "could actually BREAK those things by waving them so hard!" I hope you will... no, actually, that kid was being a little brat. I WANT him to think twice before he messes with things that aren't toys in a home interior store.

From our Crazed Family to Yours...

Merry Christmas, and fervent prayers for a
Sane and Happy New Year!

It's been a good year, really!  I've been happy this first full year in my condo, with a very, very slow decorating approach – I just hung most of my pictures 18 months after moving in! I think the kitties have been reasonably content; as long as I will not attempt to pick them up & squeeze them (corporal cuddling), yet will make my lap available when they want some cuddle time, they appear satisfied with the arrangement. Daisy has become a big chunky fuzzball, while Bunny is a sleek little girl. They both are good cuddlers. Bunny has an obsession with dunking stuff in their water bowl that utterly mystifies me, though. I come home and find wads of yarn (the preferred plaything at present) in the bowl and water everywhere; I put all the loose yarn in the back room, and in less than an hour, it’s been dragged back to the bowl. The little freak!

The Young Adult historical fiction books by Gladys Malvern that I have been editing to reprint are all done.  We managed to get 12 of her public domain titles back into print, and I think the books are beautiful! Sales are tepid but steady, and we hope the homeschool community will discover them soon. They are available at all the big online book retailers...

Work ebbs and flows, as always… It's been six years now since I started House Calls, and started at the AEA/Vandy. I still love working at both places. The variety of both jobs and switching back and forth keeps me from getting burned out. I had my first (minor) surgery on my right tear duct this summer, but apparently I was one of the 5% whose heals up wrongly, and so I am going back in to have it redone 2 days after Christmas. *sigh* I’m still singing with the Parish Choir and Chamber Singers at St. Bartholomew’s in Nashville, and still love it.

Hoping you and yours are well! God bless and keep you!