Bob, the Polish Porn Enthusiast

Bob was a friend-of-a-friend. The friend who introduced us was a co-worker of my ex-husband Doug. Let's call him PV. PV was a social engineer long before Facebook. He absolutely loved creating connections between people. "Oh, do you know so-and-so? Let me introduce you." I think PV envisioned his friends as a collection, all displayed together artfully on a shelf. The only problem was, many of PV's friends had strange quirks, and they didn't mix well together. PV was the sort of person who could subtly alter his personality to harmonize with whoever he was spending time with at the moment. Not everyone can do this. So PV's attempts to create little subsets of friends usually failed in the end. There was the added factor of PV's propensity toward gossip. If he could get friend A to move in with friend B, sooner or later he'd do his very best to get the "dirt" on friend A from friend B or vice versa.

Doug and I moved from New York to Atlanta in the mid-1980s, and PV followed a few months later, for the same reason we did: job changes and a lower cost of living. PV lived with us for a few months, then got his own place. After a few years, he met the lady he later married. She was an eminently level-headed and sensible person, but even she needed a few years to wean PV off his never-ending frat party, the mad social carousel.

PV came to like the south quite a bit and did his best to persuade his old NY friends to relocate. A few did, but most either declined, or they moved briefly to Georgia, found it very much not to their liking, and high-tailed it back to the frozen north. Bob the Polish Porn Enthusiast belonged in the latter category.

Click Here to Read More..

One of those "Signs of the Apocalypse"

It's almost a cliche nowadays -- people use "this must be a sign of the apocalypse" to describe an event that was so unlikely, so improbable, it never would have been predicted. Something that upsets the balance and order of the world as we would like to imagine it.

Something like a couple I've known since the beginning of my first marriage (hint: Reagan was enjoying his first term) who are about to finalize their divorce. She's a few years older than he, but both are in their 50s. Always viewed from without as slightly bohemian, though she consistently held down 9-5 jobs while pursuing some artistic pastimes. They seemed absolutely "made for each other," and it did last over a quarter-century. No kids, but lots of pets.

I've only gotten her side of the story, but she described objective, provable events, rather than a slanted POV, so I'm inclined to believe her. It sounds like a classic midlife crisis, complete with a long-distance affair revealed via cellphone records; makeovers; separate vacations and finally just the vaguely expressed desire to be single.

And so, now two people who seemed like puzzle pieces that fit seamlessly to create a pleasant picture are now having to rethink everything about themselves.

It's disturbing because if this couple can call it quits, there are precious few others I know out there that offer any real assurance of permanency. Click Here to Read More..

And a good time was had by all. 'specially me.

Okay, guys, I have just gotten through, truly, the suckiest week at work in a long time. I will not belabor the details; that's not the purpose of this post.

This is going to be a happy post, by gum.

At 5:00-ish yesterday evening, I almost literally limped to my car. I mean, we're talking down, ragged and defeated, despite the author of my pain taking a vacation day. My circadian rhythms make the hours between 5 and 7 pm the lowest point for me, energy-wise. I typically get up at 6 a.m. and for the next several hours am very ready, willing and able to do just about anything, especially when it comes to planning and organizing. But starting around 3:30 in the afternoon, the energy starts to wane seriously. Especially on Friday, and especially if it's been a tough week. A good example of this was yesterday -- made a detour to the restroom and stood in front of the wastebasket with a crumpled paper towel in one hand and my car keys in the other -- needing about three long seconds to sort out which one I was supposed to toss in. There are some evenings when I will walk in the door, say hi to Carl, kick off the shoes and most of the clothes, and just fall into bed and be deeply asleep within 2 minutes, waking up an hour or so later not having changed position. Then, of course, I stay up until the wee morning hours, but...

So, yesterday evening, I had to rush over to the church to catch the tail-end of an important meeting, and then a half hour later it was time to attend dinner at a friend's house. I had to slap together a time sheet, as I always do on Fridays, and would have gotten it started earlier, except for having to fill in on the company switchboard from 4-5. So it's rush-rush-rush, making up the time sheet, shutting down my computer, putting away all the paperwork and getting out of Dodge. In my quest to arrive promptly at the meeting, I took a shortcut along one of the most dismal, drug-ridden streets in the city. Such was my pessimistic frame of mind that I fully anticipated encountering a flat tire, fender-bender, carjacking, or improvised explosive device along one of those 4 blocks. Perhaps my emotional sun started to peek through the clouds as I turned onto the next street and left all that squalor behind.

The church meeting was not unpleasant, but it was a somewhat confused and talk-heavy affair, and having come in so late, there was little for me to contribute. I think everybody was fairly fatigued by the time we broke up at 6:00, but I didn't want to arrive too early at the dinner, which was located just blocks away. But there was no one to hang out and chat with, so I took the long route to my friend's. I'd never previously visited them before dark. Upon arriving, I discovered that they have ample parking space behind their house, making it unnecessary to scope out an appropriate spot at the curb. One of the other guests had arrived just before me; their smiling faces were a balm to the soul as we walked into the house together.

And so went the whole evening. My friend is a wonderful host, along with her husband, and a splendid cook. I've known her just over two years and feel enormously blessed by her friendship. She is a consummate night-owl. If you even try to make conversation with her before 11 a.m. or so, you'd be advised to record it, since she won't remember much of it later. So most of the time we spend together is on weekday evenings. She's walking on air, while my ass is dragging. I was genuinely worried about how I'd hold up for 3 hours' worth of leisurely dining and conversation with six other people.

But I needn't have worried. There was wine (oh, yesss!), salad, a roast, potatoes, squash, a marvelous dessert and coffee. A few auxiliary brain cells kicked in and I was able to converse intelligently about politics, religion and society in general. I indulged briefly in a recitation of the preceding week's miseries, but all of that suddenly, miraculously felt irrelevant.

After about three hours, the inevitable exhaustion reappeared and I was the first to get up and say goodnight. I'd seen one or two discreet glances at wristwatches before that and suspected that I'd provided an opportunity for the others. Six warm hugs and then it was a short, uneventful cruise back to my (thankfully) empty street and quiet abode.

An absolutely perfect end to a day that could have been worse, at the conclusion of a week that many of us thought would just drag on forever.

I'm hoping the momentum will carry me through this weekend and enable me to do something other than stare at the computer and take naps. And then Monday it's back to the battlefield ... freshly armored. Click Here to Read More..

"White Light" - Wishin' and Hopin'

I don't pray to a deity. Stopped doing that nearly 7 years ago. Happy to put it behind me. Never looked back.

I don't meditate. But I'd like to learn. I have a great deal of difficulty focusing on one thing, such as breathing, to the exclusion of other things. It's a work in progress.

But without prayer or meditation, there remains the question of what to do when there's a situation that's out of your control, but you've got something invested in the outcome.

Wish ... hope ... send white light, as a friend of mine likes to say.

I'm more than a bit skeptical about the "law of attraction." I've tried it a few times, seen it work, but the track record is almost exactly equivalent to the results gained through prayer. Inconsistent. Closer to coincidence than anything.

So I hesitate, good humanist/skeptic/UU that I am, to delude myself into thinking I can send out "waves" or "vibes" or anything like that to the universe and somehow influence it to alter the course of events to suit me. Pure logic says it's in my head and nowhere else.

But the thoughts persist. The helplessness that has kept religion going for millennia.

Two of my good friends have been vacationing at Ground Zero for the current flu outbreak. They are healthy, vigorous people who always keep a positive attitude and don't generally slouch around talking about their latest ailment. And fortunately, in the event that some microbe may overtake them, they have access to good healthcare. There really is no reason to worry about my friends. They've kept in touch via e-mail and made no mention of any worries other than government offices being closed and the possibility of travel delays. I do sense, though, that they're more than ready to get back home.

I feel tense, restless, and yes, helpless. I have a personal stake in this situation simply because I care about them and think they're undeserving of sickness, bureaucratic inconvenience, or even the worries of friends, who may want them to quarantine themselves for a week or so after they come back, just to play it safe.

I'm as clueless about "white light" as I ever was about prayer. The Law of Attraction folks say I should only visualize the best outcome -- picture them bouncing off the plane with carefree grins and luggage full of whimsical, sanitary souvenirs. A month's worth of amusing stories about the food and scenery. That is, actually, how I see them in my mind's eye.

If that's "white light," I'm hitting the SEND button now. Click Here to Read More..

Villains

Today, in an idle moment (at work, naturally), I pondered the question of exactly how many people in my life I could legitimately call "the bad guys." People who had a profoundly negative impact on me ... where if it were possible to go back in time, knowing what I know now, I would be sure never to get involved with them again.

My list came out to just over two dozen, which was far less than I'd expected to get when I started. I subdivided it by decades, and what I got was:

Five people during my first ten years (three of whom were teachers);
Five people during middle school, high school and college;
Only two during my 20s and early married life (and no, my ex wasn't in that group);
Nine during my 30s and the years immediately following the divorce (and yes, Doug did make that roster);
Six in the last 10 years.

Making a list like this gives way to the inevitable self-analysis. What made me befriend that person in the first place? What was the attraction? And then what was the fundamental change that later on made me reach for the ejector switch?

The volition factor is there in just under 50% of those on the list. The rest are teachers, bosses and a couple of identity thieves. I had two such incidents about five years apart. In the first case, I'm reasonably sure who the person was, and I naively left myself open to the theft. But in the second case, it came out of nowhere.

It's been an interesting exercise, and the lesson, of course, is to be aware of who comes and goes in your life, and why. Click Here to Read More..

Losing "Friend Points" for myself

I just came back from the Midwest (barely ahead of the snow, which slowed me down a tad in Indy). Visited my two good friends who always make me feel welcome. It had been two years and I missed them.

These are such cool folks, really unique, self-determining, independent, colorful, and genuine. I met the wife through some online writing groups and have probably been to visit them about a half-dozen times since. They are very busy, even with the husband being retired -- they have a farm and the wife works full-time. Visiting them always gives me a lift, because their home is such a reflection of their personalities. First of all, there are books EVERYWHERE. Plenty of knick-knacks and art on the walls. Always something to look at, think about, talk about.

Being married to Carl for nearly 12 years has turned me into more of a neat/clean freak than I ever imagined possible. I take sparkling toilets, empty kitchen sinks, sorted laundry and invisible dust for granted. I've also become fairly intolerant of clutter, letting it build to a point and then clearing it all out. I sometimes look at my house, especially after I return from a visit with them, and decide that we're really boring people. Our house just doesn't scream out much about our personalities or lifestyle. It's just a house. It doesn't reflect our combined 102 years of life on the planet. You can probably discern something or other if you look long and hard enough, but I'm sure there's nothing memorable about it.

My visits with my friends have brought out these rather conflicting sides of me. I love all their "stuff," but have a problem with the sheer volume of it and the underlying environmental conditions. The place truly is not clean. He smokes inside, which Carl does not, regardless of the weather (bless him!!). Ashtrays are in every room of the house, filled to overflowing. The outside gets tracked in all day long, and there's an unemptied litter box in the bathroom.

Worst of all, things just get piled everywhere. My friend is something of a "mother hen" to some of her other friends, who have fluctuating financial situations. Some of them end up staying over there long-term. Consequently, their belongings stay there, too. My friend complained this weekend that her house has become a dumping ground for things that people bring over and leave -- her way of dealing with it is making it freely available for any other visitor to use (things like Judy's special green tea or Joyce's handmade pillows, etc.).

I really sympathize, except that I am convinced that the "orphan belongings" represent merely a fraction of all the other things that belong to them and never get thrown out, filed or sorted.

I've visited there every year since they moved in. First time, they were in a double-wide while the house was being built, so this is a brand-new house. In the course of five years, the mountains of stuff have just gotten bigger. I'm convinced that if you did an archeological dig on their kitchen table, you'd find old magazines from 2003, and maybe before. The place was "pleasantly eclectic" the first couple of years. Now it's depressingly chaotic.

There are no uncluttered spaces, no unobstructed lines, in the entire house. Nothing gets thrown out, just moved to the side to make room for something new. It's getting so I can't deal with it, even sojourning for 2 or 3 nights.

Someone reading this might think "Well, if it bothers you so much, why don't you offer to help them clean it?"

I have.

On my second visit after they moved into the house, my friend was under the weather, fretting about the new carpet being dirty, etc. I was more than happy to get out the vacuum and go over every inch of carpet they had. I also dusted, dumped the litter box and cleaned the toilet. There wasn't much clutter, so I stacked things a bit more neatly, folded some laundry and swept. I felt good about it and my friend was appreciative. I did the same, to a lesser extent, on the next couple of visits.

But this time? No. I see no point. I worry that my friends are turning into Mr. & Mrs. Collier, and that one day, the mountain of stuff is just going to cave in. The cat climbs up on the kitchen table and lies on top of it all until they yell at him to get down. One day the cat will take a false step...

I feel guilty writing this because a large part of me firmly believes that your behavior towards others is way more important than how nice you keep your house. But it just seems a damn shame on so many other levels -- mental health, physical health, even fiscal health. But these aren't the clueless, incompetent losers you often see on "cure the clutter" shows like Clean Sweep -- which used to inspire me on my previous visits. They are genuinely busy, simply not able to keep up. But I sense an air of resignation now, like "This is how we are, and everyone else will have to accept it."

I know I'll be invited back and am beginning to wonder whether or not to accept... Click Here to Read More..

The Quiet Type

"Dear Prudence" in Slate Magazine published a letter from a mother who was appalled by the huge trend of texting among teenagers. She said:


What I find amazing is how little actual real-voice conversation goes on between boys and girls. My kids tell me that often it's easier to instant message and/or text than talk to someone "live," especially if the other person is someone whom they normally would feel nervous talking to face-to-face, and in fact may not talk to at all if it weren't for the texting/instant messaging.

Prudie, of course, advised her that all new technologies create a gulf between generations during the time that society is adjusting to them.

The letter reminded me of how the Internet really has changed certain things. It goes along with my thoughts on introversion from a couple of days ago. Online communication really helps people come out of their shells.

I have a loose circle of acquaintances, most of whom live in my town, and communicate on a message forum. Now and then we get together for lunch or a party, but by and large, our social life is lived on this forum. And boy, are we an outspoken, gabby bunch. A large proportion of the members are in the broadcasting industry, so you'd expect them to be somewhat boisterous. Other members have known each other for a long time, so that when we do get together, there's a lot of loud joking & other silliness going on.

But then there's the bank teller, whose avatar is this guy from the movie "The 300":


When I heard he was going to be at one of our parties, I was curious to talk to him ... I expected him to start burning and pillaging as soon as he walked in the door. But instead, he went and stood over by the wall for nearly an hour, grinning but answering questions in monosyllables, until someone coaxed him out a bit.

In truth, the overwhelming majority of our forum members are like him. Plenty to say, very intelligent, but surprisingly shy and inarticulate in a crowd of people, when they are actually required to SPEAK. Get a keyboard in front of us, though, and all the stuff you never suspected was in our heads finds an outlet.

We have a number of law-enforcement types on our board, and for them, too, it's better than therapy. They have to toe the line with the public and their superiors, but online, under the cloak of anonymity, they can share the stuff of their waking nightmares in awesomely vivid prose.

Blogging and online social networking are amazing things, not to be underestimated. Someone asked me recently how many close friends I had. The answer, in terms of people I see and talk to on the phone regularly, came out to maybe three, not counting in-laws. But I was thinking about Beagle, CalendarGrrl, Misterpatootiehead, Shoedown, Dixalyve, Ratzo.....

Whoops, I need to tweak my codes. There is nothing else beyond this point! Click Here to Read More..

Half a Life Ago

Sometimes it's startling to think about things that happened "some years" ago and to realize just how many years it was.

Today I'm thinking about a college classmate named Ellen, who will turn 50 tomorrow, about 3 weeks ahead of me.

A few years after graduating, we were both in the work force. I had gotten married. She'd been engaged but then broke it off.

Ellen was quite observantly Jewish, and in our four years of college I'd been endeavoring to learn enough about Judaism to make a successful conversion. I abandoned that quest not long before graduation, but Ellen and I remained friends.

Ellen made me slightly uncomfortable, though I had trouble defining the reason at the time. She was simply brought up better. Her parents were sober, middle-class, elegant in a way that my parents were not. In short, I felt inferior. So between Ellen's rather persistent religiosity and the class difference, there was something of a widening gulf.

Doug and I liked to throw big parties and when we did, people would wander through the apartment and end up in the bedroom. We had a waterbed, which was something of a novelty. Despite the immediate impression this may have made, no overt sexual behavior took place at our parties. No one took off their clothes -- it was largely innocent. The worst that ever happened was someone would massage someone's back while everyone else sat around squealing at the "waves."

So in October of 1983, we threw a bash, since Doug and I had birthdays 6 days apart. We lived in Queens, NY; Ellen came across Long Island Sound from Connecticut, where she still lived with her parents. She brought a friend; I now forget who that was, or if I'd ever met her.

The first thing that went wrong was Ellen couldn't find anything to eat. She was quite observantly kosher and most likely there wasn't much of anything being served that would have been "safe." This was certainly a breach of etiquette on my part -- it wasn't like Ellen just dropped in. She'd been invited and I should have been more proactive about serving something appropriate.

Ellen left pretty early, after making a pointed remark about the "goings-on" in the bedroom, and how parties in her home (her parents' home, that is) didn't deteriorate to the level that mine apparently had.

Because she'd brought a gift, I sent her a thank-you note the next day, mentioning that all my friends meant a great deal to me. I hoped this would help her to understand that I didn't appreciate her judging my other friends as degenerates.

I never heard from Ellen again.

I sometimes wonder what she is up to these days. I'd like to apologize for the lack of edible food, and find out what she found so objectionable -- was it just men and women sitting close together, touching? That may have been enough. It would be interesting to see if she's as religious as she was back then.

Twenty-five years ago. Four presidential administrations ago...

Nostalgia is a strange thing. Click Here to Read More..

Checking in with a Quick & Shallow Update

After being advised a week or two ago that I'm pre-diabetic, I've stepped up my weight-loss efforts. The result is a loss of 3 lbs, which normally would make me say "So what?" since usually the first 3 lbs is just water ... but it's really the first time my weight has gone down AT ALL in a couple of years. As a corollary, there's the money situation, which is actually helping in an odd sort of way. We haven't the money to stock up food-wise; we tend to buy enough for a day or two. So Carl buys his all-important meat; I head for the produce and dairy aisles and keep myself supplied with salads and yogurt. Also those Carl Buddig 90-calorie one-sandwich-at-a-time packets that sell for less than a dollar. I'd swear my hair has more red in it lately, with all the carrots I've been eating...

This weekend promises to be absolutely jam-packed, especially with neighborhood activities -- fall festival next Saturday. Next Thursday, a vacation day. Already overbooked.

Wally's birthday is coming up and I'm hoping to be able to send him something. Looking forward to the start of the year, since the company will be offering flexible spending accounts and I found that very helpful a few years back.

My bff hasn't called or e-mailed lately; I assume she's paralyzed with shock. She frequently sends me her latest Obama-is-a-muslim-we're-all-doomed 2nd-hand screed. I just skim through the stupidity and delete with no comment. Lately, though, there have been some great essays on some of the hypocrisy that surrounds the Obama-vs-Palin brouhaha and I gave in to the temptation to share one with her. She'd BETTER not take offense at one pro-Obama e-mail after all the stuff she and others have flooded me with over the years.

I'm looking forward to the presidential debates (I think), but am especially looking forward to November 4th just getting here, already. Click Here to Read More..

A handful of random one-liners

Just not organized enough to stick to one topic today, so here's where I dump the lint-catcher that resides between my ears...

Didn't want to to go church today, but glad I did.
A lot of people there have suffered losses in just the last week or so.
The choir has some good new people in it.
I waited too long to see the doctor about my foot, but we're working on getting it taken care of now.
Life could be better.
Why does the mutt next door always stop making noise as soon as I put on music to drown it out?
If Wally loses much more weight, he will disappear.
Seriously thinking about changing the theme for this blog, but worried I'll make a hash of it.
The days go by too damn fast.
Talked to my bff last night; it was good to catch up.
She hates weddings as much as I do.
I'd rather go to a funeral than a wedding.
At least with a funeral you can leave early and people assume you're grief-stricken and not just bored silly.
Funerals are way cheaper, too -- no gifts expected.
I'm feeling glimmers of optimism for this presidential election.
I just hope no one I'm pulling for does anything monumentally stupid to screw it up before Nov. 4.
Interesting how the tide seems to have shifted just recently.
Took long enough.
Michael Clayton was such a boring, pointless movie, I sent it back to Netflix after sticking with it for 30 minutes.
I like listening to Chris Isaak and have no idea why.
Coffee's ready; be right back.
Coffee pot needs cleaning.
Bookcases need reorganizing.
We surely do need rain.
The kitchen counter is a mess.
We really need a new refrigerator.
Facebook is addictive.
The husband of a friend of mine has been diagnosed with squamous-cell carcinoma.
Christmas will be here before we know it.
Anticipation of a bad outcome often keeps me from taking decisive action.
There sure are a lot of people in the news media who get paid beaucoups bucks and still haven't a clue about spelling, grammar or usage.
Ahh -- Warren Zevon.
Die Hard is still a great movie.
The first one.
Samsung makes better cell phones than Nokia.
I need to call Pete and wish him a happy 61st.
Slim Fast is a better idea than a milkshake from Arby's today.
They're closing Coney Island's Astroland.
Putting up more yuppie condos, no doubt.
I just hate what they're doing to New York City.
I'm so, so glad that Thomas Kinkeade is out of Carl's price range.
It's amazing how things can change in ten years.
Another hopeful sign: Michael Dowd
I don't even want to think about a fall wardrobe.
Comedians annoy me when they toss out what made them famous in the first place and go out of their way to create a "serious" public image.
Chicken parmigiana sounds like a good plan for dinner tonight.
I haven't owned a swimsuit since 2005.
Being an only child isn't such a terrible thing.
With an older sibling I'd have been an insufferable brat.
With a younger sibling I'd have been an overbearing bully.
The guy next door finally emptied out the crap from the bed of his old pickup.
There was someone sleeping in there yesterday.
Why do all ice cream trucks use the same music?
And what does "Turkey in the Straw" have to do with ice cream?
If I had my way, all existing recordings from Evanescence would be destroyed, and the lead singer would be sentenced to sing nothing but polkas for the rest of her life.
Three vacation days left.
One is scheduled already.
Sitting here doing this is not the best use of my time. Click Here to Read More..

The Most Annoying Person I Have Ever Known

[This is a continuation of a topic from my previous post.]

Q. Who is the most annoying person you know? Why?

Her name is Pam. I met her in 7th grade when she moved to our town. She is the product of a couple of people who didn't want her. She has no boundaries, no manners, no class, and thinks nothing of pushing her way into someone's life.

She pushed her way into mine when I was being raised to "be nice to people." That, to me, meant having to put up with them. Pam had no radar to tell when she wasn't wanted. Unless someone got downright violent and threatened her, she'd keep coming around, trying to be friends.

With the kind of home atmosphere she lived in, it was very easy to feel sorry for Pam. And so, I dealt with her all through high school, tolerating her tendency to be my "shadow" and copy everything from my clothes to my taste in music. I had no way to explain what introversion felt like, so every waking moment during the summer I could expect her at my house.

Senior year of high school she pushed my last button by openly rejoicing in the fact that I had broken up with a guy she didn't like. I completely blew my stack at her in front of practically the entire school and enjoyed a blissful 3 years or so without her presence. However, time took the edge off the irritation and when I heard she'd gotten married I naively thought she'd grown up and would be easier to deal with.

Pam, however, was not wired for maturity. At this writing, she is a few months shy of her 50th birthday. She is still boy crazy. Her first marriage ended, to be followed by about 10 years' worth of promiscuous sex that would have boggled the mind of Howard Stern. Her parents openly rejected her, so she went through a series of rented rooms, low-paying jobs and boyfriends.

Then she met Ed. She and Ed have been married now for nearly 17 years. She managed to stay faithful to him for exactly one year, and then I started getting the calls again from her about "this guy at work." She has not slowed down or stopped since then. She and Ed went through a phase in which he tried to "put his foot down" about her playing around, but the fact that they're still together tells me that he's every bit as dysfunctional as she is. She is openly active in “swingers’ clubs,” and though she will fixate on one guy or another, sometimes for years, especially if they keep her at a distance, she has also admitted that sticking to one guy will never work for her. She is always hungry, never satisfied. I would conservatively estimate that she has had something in the neighborhood of 500 sexual partners.

Pam is simply from another dimension. She has a compelling, sexual quality to her that really draws people (especially men). Many people are initially convinced that what she does is "put on a dumb blonde act." After awhile it becomes clear that it's no act. But her other compelling quality is the ability to inspire pity, and soft-hearted, well-meaning souls find her very hard to shake loose of.

About 4 years ago I was going through a fairly bad patch, financially. Carl was having medical problems and we were in the midst of getting him tested at various facilities. My car was dying and my remedy was to stay home as much as possible and not take the car anywhere except work and the occasional shopping trip. Pam decided she wanted to visit me (we lived about 850 miles apart). Despite telling her it was not a good time, she pushed and pushed and pushed, then finally bought a plane ticket and informed me she was coming. She was convinced that a visit from her would be "helpful" to me. She said she'd bring lots of money and pay for anything we did.

She arrived and promptly started asking to be taken to various stores (especially wig shops, her favorite). Predictably the car died. I ended up having to rent a car to squire her around. My mood was foul and unfriendly, and still she never noticed a thing. When she got back on the plane a few days later, I called everyone I knew and hysterically told them "I'm free!"

It was The Voice of Reason, better known as my cousin Pat, who finally got my head turned around straight with regard to Pam.

"Tell me," she said, "do you get anything out of this relationship at all, or are you the one doing all the giving, while she does all the taking?"

It was so simple. And the remedy was equally obvious. Pam had already told me about another friend who "out of nowhere" stopped picking up the phone or returning calls. "What was I to do?" Pam said, "She kept ignoring me so finally I quit calling her."

Once she was back home, I simply declined to return her calls or to answer the phone when she called. Thus ensued about four months' worth of harangues and threats, such as "Don't be too surprised if what goes around comes around and you start having bad luck because of the way you've treated me." Pam often bragged about "lighting black candles" against people who had "wronged" her. However, eventually she realized her efforts were fruitless and closed with a short note saying "Don't ever call me again." That was one request I'd have no trouble complying with.

Fast forward about 19 months. I had just moved to my current residence and the phone rang. Caller ID gave me no information. And there was that awful, Brooklyn-accented, whiny voice of hers, half crying about how nothing was going well in her life and she really needed me there to talk to, and she really missed our friendship. How, she wanted to know, could I possibly be able to close the door on a relationship of over 30 years?

I was not about to get sucked in again, under any circumstances. I told her that plenty of married couples stay together for more than 30 years only to split because there was no happiness left in the relationship. I told her I never really liked her but merely put up with her from a sense of obligation. I enumerated every fault, every shortcoming, every annoying habit I could recall, from 7th grade to our last time together. And still she argued: "But ... but ... but ..." She was determined to wear me down.

Finally, I said "I don't want to talk to you anymore, don't call me anymore, and I'm hanging up. Goodbye."

That, to date, was the last contact. I hope she has finally gotten it through her head that she'd better do what she can to improve the relationships she still has, because I'm out of her life and determined to keep her out of mine. Click Here to Read More..

Had a bad weekend? Somehow I doubt it.

If I'm dead wrong, let me know, but by comparison to a friend of mine, it's been bliss.

This friend often shows up at gatherings with her two big ol' dogs. Both well-behaved and friendly. She travels a lot and takes them both with her whenever possible. She keeps us all posted on their adventures.

One has been progressively ill for awhile and over the last year it had become clear that her ability to live a normal dog life was getting difficult.

Early Saturday my friend let us know that the end of the road had come. The second dog knew something was wrong; my friend was trying to keep him busy, taking him on runs, etc. so he wouldn't wander around the house looking for his missing companion.

Then, Saturday evening came a terse message that the surviving dog had been admitted to the emergency vet with bloat, a condition common to larger dogs that involves stomach torsion -- it's massively painful and calls for immediate treatment if the dog is to be saved. Surgery was performed to remove the spleen; the dog needed plasma transfusions and was put on morphine IV's. My friend was hoping that with each hour that passed, his chances for survival would increase, but he was in such pain he had to be kept under almost all the time.

Early Tuesday morning he went into cardiac arrest and that was the end.

I know she's strong, but damn.

And then you read about human parents who leave their infants alone in cars. Click Here to Read More..

Integrity. I Haz It.

One of the traits I admire least about myself is wishy-washiness. I have plenty of strong opinions, but am often not willing to really stand behind them.

The local online group I frequent has one member named "Elizabeth." People either love her or hate her. She has been castigated, reviled, and compared to the Shelly Long character on "Cheers" - kind of snooty and pompous in some of the opinions she expresses. There's also a rather sharp division among this group between the liberals and the conservatives, and she has lined up time and again with the conservatives, all the while disclaiming any particular ideology. Some of her remarks have cut too close to the bone for forgiveness in the case of several other members. Elizabeth apparently sensed this because she went and created her own forum. One of the first people she contacted and invited to join was me, and this made me feel really strange because as far as I knew, I hadn't extended the hand of friendship to her. I remained noncommittal ("Gee, I'm so busy, I can't imagine when I might find time," etc.), but she was rather persistent, so I went and checked out the site, registered with a username and posted a few comments. A few others from the original forum have been active there. With all of this, Elizabeth has also maintained a presence on the original site. A few weeks ago I went head-to-head with one of the more reactionary personalities on there, who answered a straightforward question with sarcasm. Elizabeth spoke up in her insistent fashion and I thanked her publicly for defending me.

But recently, I shared lunch with two of the members that Elizabeth provoked the most hostility in. I admitted that I'd participated in her site, and realized I felt guilty, ashamed and uncomfortable about this because I genuinely care about the two people I was sitting there with, and overall had little or no regard for Elizabeth. So what was it that compelled me to accept her invitation in the first place? Basic wimpiness is the answer I come up with. I guess I like forums. Hers isn't terribly different from the one she spun off and there's really, truly no reason for me to be there.

Fortunately, a major news story broke a few days ago and when I read her take on it, it reaffirmed most emphatically how WRONG it would be for me to continue having any association with her whatsoever. Talk about wanting to take a shower -- hoo-wee, especially after my weekend in Ft. Lauderdale, getting back in touch with my liberal self. I did, in fact, take a shower, because I read her post first thing in the morning over coffee. I curtailed my usual perusal of news sites for the sole purpose of going onto my profile page and deleting my membership. No comments or anything; I just got out once and for all.

And then reached for the soap. Click Here to Read More..