Why I am not married:

You probably clicked on the link thinking I would tell you about my troll skin under my clothes being the reason I am not married. No such luck. It was prompted by this: Dylan Stableford gathered together the top 40 stories and videos reposted on Facebook and listed them on a Yahoo News Blog today. I laughed at my predictability at having posted several already. And equally as predictable, posted today's story as well.
Though I have piles of work on my desk, I spent a few perusing the articles I hadn't come across this year.
One in particular has me deeply confused. Was I supposed to find it humorous? You can find it in the above article.
Here's the lowdown: A woman who has been married 3 times shared the six reasons why I am still single. Apparently, having landed a man 3 times makes her an authority. I think Bridget Jones would call her a smug married, and divorced, and married, and divorced, and married and divorced....Her reasons are deeply philosophical. Here's the list, sans inane description.
Cover your ears, she speaks French.

1. You're a b!tch.
2. You're shallow.
3. You're a s!ut.
4. You're a liar.
5. You're selfish.
6. You're not good enough.

Really? Seriously? Here's where I need help; does she really believe this? Or was she just trying to be funny to get to the the last bit? Because, I may be all those things listed, (Those of you who think I'm #1, try not to laugh too hard), but honey.... a lot of my married friends are those things too. In fact, I've often wondered how some friends, (no one reading this of course) ever landed their man in the first place. I've watched women make nagging an olympic sport. Talk about stamina.
Being married is not my goal. Not if it means also being divorced three times. And she's not wrong for being divorced three times; she's not a bad person. She just made different choices, no better or worse than mine.
So, for all those reasons, I say, marriage is pretty much like pregnancy. Some people who aren't expecting it, find they are in that "condition". Others try and try, but for no fault in um, trying, find it eludes them. (But it was fun trying, wasn't it?) Still others take precautionary measures and still land in that position. And others....like the author, find themselves with 3.
There are some mysteries that just can't be explained.
She and I can agree on one thing. It's about love. Or rather, it should be. Being single, married or divorced should all be about love. Loving yourself enough to follow your heart, and loving someone else enough to encourage them to follow their heart.

And now for something completely different: a poem, if you will.

I wrote this about ten years ago, and it's been sing-songing in my head recently. Humor me.

Levity in Love

Tell me truly
hearts consume me
write these words
so please don't sue me
see me happy
see me sad
send me flowers
say I'm bad
kiss me quickly
Never ending
hold me closely
take me in

These walls cracking
crumbling
falling
Naked standing
vulnerable raw
see my heart unwrapped before you
break it
seal it
take it all

Fail

Remember how last week, I wanted to be able to send people on their way with a smile? Well, I need to incorporate that into some other areas of my life. Not a fake smile either; but a compassionate I know deep in my core this isn't really a big deal so I'm going to smile smile.
I have been really frustrated with service lately. How stupid is that? All the things in the world that can get my panties in a wad, and I freak over the kid behind the counter.
I have officially hit middle age. I am so tired of the kid who asks if she can help me as she breezes around the corner into some back room where I can't see or hear her. Not, "I'll be right with you," but "can I help you?" No, apparently, you cannot as you cannot hear me, or see to what I am pointing. Then, when she does come around, I'm not quite ready, so I suggest my friend order. Which she curtly explains to me is already taken care of and she then proceeds to help someone else with a very large order. Not once did she ask if I had any questions. Just a complete disdain for me. (Not me personally, I know she has no way of knowing how absolutely amazing I am. Just that general disdain for anyone who is not as robotic as she is.)
Are your eyes glazed over yet? Mine are. Rants are boring. And this is a rant. This is not the end of my dealings with this girl, but for your sake, I may stop here.
I walked away really frustrated with two things. First, of course, I'm frustrated with the quality of service I experience and hear about. Being accused of bringing your own beer into a restaurant, a beer that had actually been purchased from the bar is just one of the many amazing spectacles taking place in this cozy little hamlet.
The second "thing" I was frustrated with is my self. Why couldn't I just get her attention and assert my needs? Why did I stand there like a deer caught in the head lights staring at the menu on the wall thinking I could wish exactly what I wanted onto the menu. Maybe I stood like that because it didn't make any sense to me. It was a hodge podge  of soups, salads and sandwich's, but what was what? But, I'm ranting again.
The thing is, I can't change people. I'd like to. I try all the time. Through harsh looks, carefully crafted responses meant to zing...Why can't I carefully craft my own desires into something nice to communicate? Like, all I wanted was cheese with a roll. It's that simple. Instead of staring at a sandwich board, knowing I have an aversion to sandwiches, (mayonnaise is the devil and pesto belongs on pasta in my world), it was on me to stop the bus and take control. And here's where the smile comes in. I need to have compassion on those who clearly hate their job or worse, their life. I need to have compassion on myself as well. Instead of being swept into frustration, I need to stop, smile and just say what I want. Clearly. Concisely. Gently. I may get turned down. I may even be laughed at. I may still be talking to a counter zombie. But, at least I'll have some sense of control, and I won't be swept into another rant. What I'm really talking about here is, we can't control what happens outside of us, but we can control our reactions. We've all heard this one way or another. At least that's what I assume. And maybe others aren't as easily as frustrated as I am, though what I read on facebook tells me they are. It helps me to write it out; to see it in action. I don't want the small things to get me down or color my day. I want to wear a smile, and mean it.

Halloween and bye bye.

I've been wanting to write all day. I had thoughts brewing that I wanted to explore. Instead of writing, I came home from yoga and crunched numbers for work, which erased any clever thought I could possibly conjure up. Now, all I can think about is the Spiderman on a bike last night who nearly ran me over. Granted it was Halloween, but it was still unsettling stepping back just moments before a skinny Spiderman sped past me, nostrils flaring, legs pumping about 30 miles per hour. Not exaggerating. It's great for Spidey to blend into the dark when he's fighting evil, so he can sneak up on the baddies and what not. But hey, I'm not a baddy. At least I don't think I am. And I had a difficult time seeing around the car in the dark because Spidey got confused and thought he was pervious man. He made a lap around the block and nearly ran into me again once I was in my car. I think I would have outsuperpowered him in that case.
But really, the highlight of yesterday was sitting in a cafe outside under a heat lamp watching the parade of costumed adults looking for a place to strut their stuff. In the search some of them took it upon themselves to strut it for me. For which I am grateful. Because my day was complete when a man in a red flapper dress walked by winking and flirting with me, cigarette in hand. He was all serious sex beast until his ciggy fell, and then he stumbled in his high heels and took a nose dive. It was at that moment I knew my day was complete.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the city of Sonoma, a friend of mine was shaping our future generation.  A girl about the age of ten took it upon herself to give back one of the two pieces of candy she was given because she didn't like it, all the while greedily eying the bowl for a grab at what she would like. My friend gently turned her around and said, "okay then, bye bye."
I remember when I was a kid, (you know, back when we still had rotary phones) my brother and I would dump our candy on the floor and trade. It built negotiating skills at a young age...rather than the rampant entitlement I am suggesting.
When I read that one house in Santa Rosa goes through 5000 pieces of candy on Halloween, I spit out my coffee.

But, I digress. These stories from yesterday seem to be mingling in that impressionable place in my mind where stories connect and illustrate something for me. And, all I can think is how nice it would be to gently turn people around by the shoulders and say, "okay then, bye bye." Society is working out its brokenness and in that process, people's emotional wounding and immaturity comes out and often knocks on our door demanding we give in to their wants. My friend passing out candy is one of the sweetest kindest women. Really. She has a way about her that is gentle and loving. I can just see the little girl walking away wondering what hit her. Because, it was a kindness that my friend didn't give in to her. I can just see her face though, full of mirth instead of anger. I have a (true confession here) tendency to get kind of confrontational when people are trying to grab from me. I want to be able to just giggle the grabbing away, so instead of me fuming about something stupid; instead, someone is walking away from me not quite sure how they got turned around, and not feeling any thing from me but love and "bye bye." Adios grabby person. While I feel compassion for you, I think it's best you be on your way.