I opened up Facebook this morning and within 3 stories I was giggling. Well, maybe not giggling as that gives the connotation of light-heartedness. I suppose I was snorting in a sort of mildly irritated, derisive way but that sounds so not-so-attractive that I want to purport to having giggled instead.
Oh dear, I had a moment there. Forgive me.
The fact is, story 1 was extolling the virtues of the 52-Week Money Challenge. Story 2 was a birthday wish on a friend’s page. And story 3 was telling me to not do the 52-Week Money Challenge. Whaaaa? I feel so confused. Continue reading
Over the weekend I read a story that involved two cavers exploring a cave and deciding to chip away at a small hole in a cave wall to explore the cavern beyond. That image is still with me today.
I think about how some relationships get chipped away, one conversation at a time, until whatever foundation that once held it strong erodes and it all falls down upon them.
I think about how a person’s very self can get chipped away by the incessant harping, criticizing, and belittling until the person is but a shell of who they once were.
I think about how faith can be chipped away until that faith is gone.
I think about a body’s health chipped away by disease and neglect.
I think about the chipping away. Continue reading
Over the weekend, we had a guest in our home. His name is Cooper and he is my sister-in-law’s miniature Dachshund. You might remember from other posts here that I have a dog, Charlie. And you might also remember that Charlie is a mix of Boxer and Greyhound. The thought of having two such similar and yet polar opposite dogs in my home made me smile. What can I say, I like Mutt and Jeff scenarios. I really was hoping that they would be a match made in heaven, albeit a doggy-tail-wagging one. Alas, as all veterans of the playground dynamics know, mere proximity alone is not all that is needed to create a meaningful and lasting relationship. Relationships take work.
As I stood in my kitchen this morning, up to the elbows in fondant, one thought grabbed me and attempted to shake a wee bit of sense into my head. “Why the hell do I do these things to myself?” Who in their right mind always has to prove themselves worthy, over and over and over? Oh yeah, me. I know that this compulsion of mine stems from my relationship with my dad and yet its really all about me. Not him, me. You know how folks use “it’s complicated” to explain their relationships? Yeah, that’s me and my dad. I love him, really I do. Or I should say I love the bits and pieces of moments of my life that connect with him at his best. That Dad, at those moments? I love him to pieces. All those other bits and pieces though, those times when he was harsh and judgmental and never proud of me, they sometimes feel as if they just might end up killing me bit by bit.
So there I am, mixing up my first batch of fondant ever and this image of footsteps in the snow suddenly fills my mind’s eye. It is a white dough in a white bowl, sprinkled with white confectioner’s sugar. All that white, looking like snow.
John Lubbock once said, “What we see depends mainly on what we look for.” I like this quote because it reminds me that relationships are a very “rich tapestry” indeed. What we look for in situations, and therefore see, is dependent upon our proximity to that situation. It is only with distance, often in geography or in time, that we are able to see the greater picture.
I don’t know any women who actually like their bodies. Oh, they might like some of the parts, but most don’t seem to like the whole kit-and-kaboodle. And yet, the men in their lives don’t care what they look like. Interesting, eh? Likewise, most men I know admit, if you manage to catch them in a moment of truth-revelation, to wanting some body part being tweaked a tad bit. This is a conundrum of vast proportions. It also gives the psychiatric profession a high sense of job security. Now, I know I’ve pointed out some of these same ideas before, but I’ve run across a little article that should give some women a bit more breathing room – and permission to have at least a small dish of ice cream.
It appears that men like curvy women.
Yeah, go ahead and have a cookie with your ice cream girls.
If you have been in a relationship with a member of the opposite sex for more than a month, or perhaps just longer than 12 minutes, you may have noticed that while the two genders seem to coexist in a natural balance, something just isn’t quite right. As in, I don’t think we’re from different planets. Nope. I think we might be different species. So, just like living with say a gorilla might have it’s challenges, so does living with your significant other.
I’ve been married for 16 years and for the most part, I can say things have been as peachy-keen as you could ask for out of a relationship. Well, there is that leaving the cupboard doors open thing, but whatever. We don’t fight, we enjoy spending time with one another, heck we still even think one another is cute. It’s just that sometimes I look at that man and think to myself, “Is he nuts?”
Funny thing is, he wonders the same thing about me.