The Ghost of the Couch

At one time, I was pretty technologically savvy. I mastered AOL and dial-up modems and flip cell phones.  I can remember the time, however, when I realized I was falling out of step.  A friend of mine got a digital camera one Christmas (this was when digital cameras were cutting edge technology).  He was showing it off, and was telling me how it can take hundreds of pictures on one memory card.  I was just getting ready to ask him about film when he laughed and said, "And can you believe, there is always that one idiot who asks, 'But what about the film?'" That was the time when I realized technology was moving faster than I was.

I think I'm doing ok, I have an iPad and an iPhone and I use both, quite well.  I email and text, and I Facebook and Pinterest like mad.  I kick butt at Candy Crush and I save several, simultaneous Words With Friends games going on.  I also have a Twitter account and an Instagram, but I use those mainly to follow other people.  I understand how to use hashtags and I know how to make a meme.  I've been seeing on Facebook and Instagram several acronyms that I've finally figured out:  #MCM (Man Crush Monday), #WCW (Woman Crush Wednesday), #TBT (Throw Back Thursday).  I don't think I have a MCM or a WCW, but I sure do love TBT.  I don't usually post TBT pictures, but I love to see other people's memories and I love nothing more than going thru my own old pictures and strolling down memory lane.

I was looking through some old pictures the other day (because it was, after all, #TBT, and I have to pretend I'm still relevant LOL) and I was struck by two thoughts:  some things have changed so much, yet some things haven't changed a single bit. I found a picture of my kids -- it was summer and I'd guess he was 3 which would make her about 1-1/2.  I look at that picture of them in all their precious innocence and sweetness and it almost takes my breath away.  I know intellectually that picture is almost 20 years old, yet it honestly feels like it was just last week.  I love the adults my children have become and I am so proud of them I almost can't stand it, but part of me longs to return to those precious toddler days, just for one more summer afternoon.  

Then I started looking at the other things in the photo:  his Mario brothers shirt, her sippy cup, the pacifier that I thought she'd take to college ... and that couch.

That couch.  I got a sick feeling in my stomach.  That hideous blue couch.  I hated that couch.  It was given to us by someone who knew we needed one, and while I was grateful, I hated that couch.  It was ugly, it was uncomfortable and it smelled funny.  We were not in a place, financially, to buy a new couch and it was a blessing that we were given that couch at all -- prior to that we were sitting on lawn chairs in our living room -- but every time I saw that couch, I didn't feel gratitude or thankfulness.  I felt embarrassed and a little ashamed.  I hated that we had an ugly, uncomfortable, smelly hand-me-down couch and I just couldn't get past that. I wouldn't invite people over because I didn't want them to see the couch, much less have to sit upon (and smell) it.  I told myself that when we got new living room furniture, I'd entertain more.  I'd become gracious and hospitable.  I'd be confident and self-assured.  Everything would be perfect, once I got rid of that couch.

We did, eventually, get rid of that couch.  We bought all new living room furniture -- brand new, matching furniture that looked good, smelled good and was comfortable and inviting. But I realized, I missed out on so much, waiting for the "good" living room.  I missed out on having people over, I missed out on entertaining, I missed out on peace and tranquility. Every time I walked into my living room, I didn't see my precious babies -- I didn't see a room filled with family and friends and love -- I didn't feel joy and contentment and peace. I felt shame and embarrassment. Over a couch. Please. How ridiculous is that?  

But guess what?  I'm still doing that.  Yeah, I have a nicer couch now, but somehow I didn't morph into Lady Gracious, Queen of Hospitality.  I still hesitate to invite people over because what if my house isn't as nice as theirs?  What if I bring them a meal and they don't like what I cook?  What if I invite someone over for dinner and I don't have enough place settings that match?  I know someone without a car, but I hesitate to give them a ride because my car is old and the a/c is tempermental.  I am still, 20 years after the Couch From Hell went to the dump, living with the ghost of that couch.  I'm still waiting for (whatever) ... once we get a new couch, I'll entertain.  Once I get a new car, I'll drive people.  Once I get new dishes and glassware, I'll invite people over for dinner.  Once I feel more confident, I'll ... (fill in the appropriate blank).  

It was never that couch.  Yeah, that couch was pretty awful, but I think we all have an awful couch somewhere in our past.  

Things change:  technology, time, kids, couches. 

20 years later, I know how digital cameras work, I know how to use my iPhone and iPad, and I'm comfortable with #TBT. 

Maybe it's time to exorcize the ghost of the Couch From Hell.  

Extreme Couponing

My mother in law and I went to an a Extreme Couponing Workshop yesterday. That was neat, doing something with just her. She and I don't spend a lot of time together, just the two of us, so I was delighted we got to do something, just us.  I saw an ad for the class about a month ago, and she said she wanted to start couponing so we decided to go together.  It was hosted by two ladies who had been on Extreme Couponing, so we figured we might learn how to buy $800 worth of groceries for $5.00.

The seminar was held in the conference room of a local hotel.  We got there 30 minutes before it started ... and couldn't find a parking spot.  Anywhere.  We drove around the lot twice -- no open spots.  We ended up parking next door, at the hospital, and walking over.  When we got to the conference room, it was 85% full -- and this was still 15, 20 minutes before it started!  We found two seats together, and watched as a steady stream of people kept pouring into the room.  The hosts called for more chairs to be brought in -- and the facilities maintenance guy had to make three trips to bring in enough chairs!  People kept coming in (I'd *love* to know where they parked!!) even after the seminar started. 

I had no idea Extreme Couponing was such a popular topic. The crowd was a diverse group -- mainly female, but there were all ages, all races, all manners and styles of dress, all manners and styles of behaviors. We sat next to a lady who thought she was in church service:  she gave a constant verbal commentary going. The host would hold up a jar of peanut butter and would say, "Now, this is a staple in most houses ..." and from next to me, I'd hear, "Yes!  Peanut butter!  Uh-huh!"  then if the host mentioned asking for a rain check on a sold out item, I'd hear, "Oh yes!  Gotta get them rain checks!"  When the host said how she wasn't brand loyal, and if you opened her closet, you'd find Crest and Colgate and Aim, I'd hear, "Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about, uh-huh, sure is!"  Her chatter continued the entire seminar. I have to give the host credit for not being distracted, for I know I sure was. 

I wanted secrets, insights, plans. I wanted to know how I could cut my grocery bill in half and simultaneously have a six-month reserve of cereal and toilet paper in my garage. I was ready to learn, I was ready to embrace this couponing lifestyle.  The ad had mentioned door prizes and drawings, so when the host said she was going to start the seminar by drawing a name, I got excited!  The prize?  A $10 gift card to the grocery store. Eh.  But I figured it was better to have lots of low-value prizes rather than a few high-value ones. She drew one name, then another ... and that was it. That was the door prizes / drawings?  Two $10 gift cards?  Still -- I wasn't there for the door prizes, I was there for the knowledge. 

I realize those trips featured on TV aren't typical, our host said that her trip featured on the show ($800 worth of groceries for less than $25) took her three weeks to plan and took over seven hours in the store!  Yeah, no.  But she also said that cutting your budget by 50% wasn't unusual.  When she began couponing, she spent about $1,000 a month.  Now she's spending $300 a month.  That $300 is for things you don't typically find coupons for:  fresh meat, fresh veggies, etc.  I thought, "Yes!  That's what I want ... teach me, Oh Wise One!"

She was a very good speaker, very comfortable, very humorous, could tell a story and could get a laugh -- but we were halfway thru the seminar and I still hadn't learned anything practical.  She was regaling us with tales of making her husband play, "Guess how much this cost me?" and telling us how couponing changed her life, but there was precious little actual information presented.

Still, we waited ... maybe they would give out some more gift cards.  They were only $10 cards, and they'd only given away two, and the flyer mentioned (in all caps, and with excessive exclamation points) there would be gift cards and door prizes, so surely they were going to give away lots of these $10 gift cards, right?

Finally, host says, "I'm going to give you the one most important secret to successful couponing."  Boy, my ears perked up and I sat forward.  Just then, the lady sitting on the other side of my mother in law got a phone call.  Her ring tone was a rooster crowing.  She apparently decided to just ignore it, so we all were serenaded by rooster crows.  Unlike Chatty Church Lady, the host was unable to ignore this, so we all paused while she decided to root around in her suitcase-sized purse, looking for her cell phone.  Once the phone call went to voice mail, the host resumed.  Her big, life-changing secret?

You need a lot of coupons.  She recommends a minimum of five Sunday papers each week, to start with.  Oh, and as a convenience to us, the Houston Chronicle had a special "right now, only in this room, only this moment" couponers rate where we could get five Sunday papers delivered to our house for only $100.00.  She spent a LOT of time on the various inserts in the paper, and how wonderful they were, and how one insert might have $1,000 worth of coupons and how in just one Sunday we could make back our subscription costs, etc.

That was it.  Buy 5 newspapers each week.  She also showed us a website where someone (I'm still not sure who this "someone" is) would compile a list of the items on sale at four Houston stores and match them to the in-paper coupons.  Except that the four stores were two wildly overpriced grocery stores and two drug stores.  That was it.  No HEB, no WalMart.  I do almost all of my shopping at HEB or WalMart, so this website didn't get my heart fluttering. 

She then launched into another sales pitch for the "right now, this instant, only available this second" subscription special while giving us horror stories of people who DIDN'T subscribe and had to dumpster dive for inserts, or who had to buy the papers at the store and didn't get the inserts or ... or ... or ...

I looked around and was stunned at how many people were filling out the order form and were whipping out their check books.  My mother in law and I were certainly in the minority by not lining up, checkbook in hand, order form filled out.

I wasn't going to be pressured into subscribing to $100 worth of newspapers, I figured if this was something I wanted to persue, I'd ask my friends if they'd save me their inserts. Or I'd try it with the one set of inserts I already get and see if it works. 

My mother in law agreed with me, we both thought the seminar was weak on actual information and was heavy on sales pitch.

This morning, I logged on to the website they assured me would make this couponing a piece of cake ... "Just pick your store (unless it's HEB or WalMart, because even though most people shop at those two stores, our website only includes two overpriced grocery stores and two drug stores), click on Start and then highlight the sale items you want.  Print your list, and start saving!" 

The website didn't work.  I clicked on Randalls, clicked start, and was told no matches were found.  Same for Kroger and the two drug stores.

Yeah, that was useful.  

And I didn't even get a $10 gift card.

I did get to spend some time with my mother in law without a lot of other people around, and that was nice -- she and I rarely spend time just the two of us and I miss that. We did decide we need to get together for lunch more often, just us ... no husbands, no kids, no cousins / aunts / uncles / nieces / nephews, just us. 

But I think my fantasy of slashing my grocery budget by 50% and having a six-month stockpile of soup and toilet paper, all purchased for less than $5.00 is going to be deferred for a while. 

Back to my own method:  HEB and WalMart and the coupons I get in my own Sunday paper.  I had high expectations, but didn't feel like buying $100 worth of newspapers and using a semi-functioning website to see what was on sale.

My Life's Calling

 I missed my calling in life.  I should have sought the bright lights of Hollywood or Broadway, for I, apparently, am one helluva good actress.  I have managed to convince more than one person that I am a confident, self-assured, upbeat and optimistic woman.  Ha!  That is so far from the truth that I literally fought the urge to look over my shoulder and see who they were talking to, because it obviously wasn't me.  Recently, in two separate situations, I had people tell me they saw traits in me that absolutely, unequivocally, do NOT exist.  I have mentioned before my skepticism with Perpetually Perky Pollianna, those eternally optimistic upbeat souls who claim to greet each day with a smile and an urge to leap out of bed and sing joyfully at the blessing of a new sunrise.  I subscribe to several email newsletters, some Christian, some cooking related, some parenting, some non-descript. In the past few days, I've received emails with these quotes:

A person will be just about as happy as they make up their minds to be.  Abraham Lincoln

I decided to look for things to be grateful for. Cultivating a grateful heart has improved every single aspect of my life far more than I could have ever imagined.  Christy Jordan

“The most important thing is to enjoy your life—to be happy—it's all that matters.” Audrey Hepburn

It's not that I disagree with those sentiments, but I do resent the implication that happy is *just* a choice. 

Sometimes, life is hard, sometimes life disappoints. We've had a tough January (and it's only half over!).  We had several, large, unexpected financial situations come up.  We had a matter we thought was resolved suddenly NOT work out as we anticipated, throwing us into a huge turmoil.  We had a situation with a family member break down.  

But apparently, I'm still giving off a confident, self-assured, upbeat and optimistic vibe. Seriously?  My poor husband could tell you otherwise. 

I see myself as a plodder. I do NOT wake up with a song on my lips, gratitude in my heart and enthusiasm pouring from my soul.  I just don't.  I wake up slowly and reluctantly -- not filled with dread about the day, but certainly not filled with optimistic elation.

It just is an absolute amazement to me that people see me as confident and self-assured.  And upbeat makes me literally laugh out loud (in an ironic and self-depricating way, not in a bubbly, perky way).  

Like I said, am apparently am one helluva good actress.  But maybe I'm *not*, and it's those Perpetually Perky Polliannas who are faking it.  Maybe THEY need to spend a day in their bathrobe, laying on the couch, watching stupid TV.  Not for a lifetime, but for 24 hours. 

Sometimes that helps. 

No, it doesn't do anything to solve the problems bearing down on us, but it gives our brains a chance to think about something ELSE besides the money woes, the impending medical test, the family dysfunction.  

Well, that's the spin I'm putting on it, anyway, to justify my own Bathrobe Monday.  Today, I have to face the world.  And I will.  And if I come across as confident and self-assured, I'll know it's because I indulged in a Bathrobe Monday -- and I'll smile to myself, knowing that I am, indeed, one helluva good actress. 

I don't live in a world where giggly unicorns fart rainbows, nor would I want to -- and I doubt I will EVER greet the day with a song in my heart and a smile on my face. But I will find joy and happiness, and I know God has His hands all over my life.  I know He has a plan, and I know I need to wait and be patient to see it.  And apparently that knowledge manifests itself in my appearing to be confident, self-assured, upbeat and optimistic.  Wow.  

My Princess Evening

I have a very nice life.  I am content with how things are, but let's be honest -- things are simple.  My days are trips to WalMart, swiffering dog hair and laundry.  I love when the grocery store has a BOGO sale on something I use, and while we aren't going wanting, I know *exactly* when payday is, and I plan things accordingly. We have a good life, but it's not a glamorous existence.

This weekend was the annual office Christmas party at hubby's work.  They do a big, fancy, no-holds-barred bash every year.  It's at the Hilton Downtown, in the ballroom, and they encourage employees to get a room and stay overnight.  They offer us a substantial corporate discount and most people stay.  We do.  

I already knew what I was going to wear, a silver floor-length evening gown but everything else was up for debate.  I decided I wanted to do something special with my hair, but had no idea what.  Thanks to dedicated friends and Pinterest, the unanimous decision was made that I needed this:

I 

I showed the stylist this picture and she came up with this:

I was very, very pleased. I hadn't come with a comb or a clip or anything, but she had a string of silver beads she wound into the 'do ... very, very nice!!

I had my gown, my Princess hair, silver glitter nails and jingle bell earrings. I was set!

We got to the hotel around 3:00, plenty of time to check in and get settled before having to get ready.  Because of the excessive amounts of travel Hubby had done this past year he had accumulated enough points for an Executive Upgrade.  Well, if you *insist*!  We got an upgraded room, access to the Executive Lounge, and various complimentary upgrades.  Wow!  We got to the room ...

and the first thing I noticed was the REAL coffee pot with REAL coffee mugs and REAL creamer (not that powdered junk) and complimentary water bottles

Then I opened the closet.  Robes!  Thick, fancy, luxurious robes!

And free slippers!

The view from our window was nice -- downtown Houston isn't the most spectacular of things but it was nice:

We were next to Discovery Green

and if you looked around the corner, you could see the Toyota Center

We unpacked (I put on the freebie slippers!) and I started to throw myself on the bed, but I remembered my Princess Hair.  She used a bunch of bobby pins and a bunch of hair spray, but I didn't want to risk it.  I made Hubby roll around on the bed, tho, and he declared it plush. 

We then went down to the lobby to look at the decorations. (I debated going down in my freebie slippers, but since this wasn't Walmart, I thought I shouldn't LOL).  They had a huge, life-sized sculpture (?) made out of chocolate.  It smelled so good I almost wept. 

We then wandered to the ballroom to see the decorations, but we were met by Hotel Manager who was very, very polite and very, very apologetic ... but the ballroom was off limits.  

So we went back to the room.  Since we had time to kill I flipped thru the Room Service menu.  Dear Heavens. 

We stuck with the complimentary water bottles!!!

We did wander over to the Executive Lounge for complimentary hors d'oeuvres and sodas.

And then it was time to get ready.  I was already sporting my Princess Hair and my makeup was minimal so all I really had to do was get dressed.

I brought these shoes

but discovered that I couldn't walk to the end of the hallway without looking like a drunken newborn calf, so I wore my backup pair of shoes

By this time, the ballroom had been transformed into an elegant sea of black and white:

There were 3,000 people there, luckily Hubby's peeps had staked a claim on a table.  What a fun, lively bunch of people!   I felt like I had known them for years!!

They opened the doors to the buffet -- there were five identical stations, one had salads and fruit, one had warm side dishes (potatoes, risotto, grilled veggies, etc), one had meats (chicken, salmon) and one was desserts. 

They also had carving stations for roast beef (those were WILDLY popular, I myself went back twice) but the true objects of lust were the shrimp towers:

After we ate, we danced, we chatted, we laughed, we drank, we talked, we took some obligatory selfies

And one picture of us coming off the dance floor

And before we realized it, three hours had passed. 

Oh!  See that ring?  It was an early Christmas gift from Hubby:

In an adjacent ballroom, they had set up a casino and given us $3,000 play money but the tables were all so crowded we never got a chance to gamble. So we went back to the buffet stations and ate more!!

We have been SO lucky to find a wonderful dog sitter who comes to our house and lets Killer outside while we are gone, she texted me pictures. Poor Shadow, looks so traumatized and abused LOL!

After a few more dances, a few more glasses of wine, a few more trips to the buffet tables and LOTS of laughter and good times, it was time for the Princess Evening to end.

The view at night was nicer:

I was sorry for the evening to end -- it was magical.  I truly felt like a pampered and indulged Princess.

We did linger over coffee and newspapers in the morning (in the Executive Lounge), but the Princess Hair was gone and I was back in Capri pants. It wasn't the same. This is all that's left of my Princess Hair -- 

Except for the memories. Everyone deserves an occasional evening of luxury and glamour, and every woman deserves to be treated as if she were a cherished Princess. 

Next week, it'll be WalMart and laundry and BOGO sales on cheese again, but I'll always remember being indulged and cherished.

After all, I *did* bring home the free slippers, and I can wear them any darn time I want to!  

Change

Change. Not one of my favorite things. I like consistency, routine, tradition, sameness. I always listen with some confusion when people talk about what the menu is going to be for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. I keep thinking, "What is there to think about?  The menu is the same that it's always been for the past 25 years ... and that's the way it should be!"  I like familiarity. I drive a 10 year old car that has over 100,000 miles on it because, in large part, I like my car.  I like knowing the idiosyncrasies of my car and I like the feeling of familiarity in sliding behind the wheel.  

I don't rearrange furniture, I don't paint the walls.  I've had the same haircut for a decade.  I'm comfortable with routine.

I have two friends right now who are both in the midst of major moves -- not just selling/buying a new home and moving, but a new job, school, church ... huge changes. I have another friend who just moved, locally, but she also quit her job to be a full time mommy to her two little ones. New house, new neighborhood, new career path.  All three of these families are eager and excited for this new phase of their lives. 

I can't relate.

The thought of new and different, of change, terrifies me.  Even if it isn't a huge, life altering change, I don't really see the need to change things up just for the sake of changing things up.  My husband doesn't agree, and we often have ... discussions ... about his need to see and do new things and my complete resistance.  To him, jumping in the car and heading out to explore a nature trail he read about in the paper is a fine idea.  To me, it's fraught with disaster and peril.  

I have a child who is just like her daddy.  She went off to college without a backwards glance -- she just knew college was going to be an adventure and she was going to love it, and sure enough, that has been her reality.

My other child joined the military -- obviously he is content with change and with not setting down roots and permanence!   

So there I am, the lone wolf in the family. I cling to my routine and my consistency. I like ... I NEED ... to know what today, tomorrow, next week will hold. I like unpacking the Christmas things and seeing the same old, same old.  I like knowing my morning coffee will be in my favorite Pooh mug, I like being able to walk thru the living room in the dark, knowing where every stick of furniture is. 

I really, really love the things in my house that have been passed down from generations now in Heaven, I almost get weepy when I hang ornaments that have been on a Newsom Christmas Tree for over 60 years, or I get out a gravy boat that has sat on a Newsom a Thanksgiving table since before my children were born.

I don't understand people who face change with excitement and enthusiasm.  I am a bit jealous of them, for I think they probably go through life a bit less stressed than I do, but it's just not in my genes. 

I'm trying, I'm working on it -- but deep down, I'm not comfortable with it.  

I have to make changes in little, incremental steps. We just rearranged the living room, and while I will admit it looks better, I'm still not comfortable with it.

I'm wondering what this Christmas will be like. All my children will be home (Hooray!  Thank you, God!) but I'm wondering if I'll be able to see them as adults or will I revert to "mom-ing" them, because that's what I'm comfortable with?  I know how to "mom" young children, I'm not quite sure how to treat grown children.  

To those people who can relate to what I'm saying, I'd love to hear words of wisdom.  To those who can't relate, please be understanding. Don't judge or expect great, huge changes -- and please understand why, if you use *my* morning Pooh mug for your coffee, I might just have a breakdown.

I like my routine, my comfort zone, my rituals. It works for me. But I also acknowledge that it can be restrictive and can stop me from fully experiencing life. For example, I *want* to get a dramatic new haircut -- really, really badly -- but the thought of actually DOING it is scary.  So I keep throwing my hair back in a ponytail.  It's comfortable.  It's secure. It's ... safe. 

I'm really curious as to what it'll be like once the (grown, adult) kids are here.  That'll be a test.  Maybe if I pass with flying colors, I'll get a haircut!  And who knows?  Maybe, one day, a new car?  

Ah, change. Little, baby steps. 

Things I've Lost Lately

I need to start this by saying I don't live in a ginormous McMansion house. I love my house, it's perfect for us and it's just the size we, as Empty Nesters, need. But it's not the kind of house where there are multiple places things can hide. My kitchen is especially space-challenged.  I am the one who puts away the dishes the majority of times and I know where everything goes -- pretty much where everything HAS to go in order for things to fit.

I have three 9x13 Pyrex baking dishes.  One of them comes with a special cover and a heat/cold pack and an insulated carrying case.  I keep it, and the accessories, in the bottom of my hutch. It's not for daily use, it's the dish I use to bring food to friends or to church, etc.  The two "everyday" Pyrex dishes -- that I use all the time -- I keep under the cabinet with all my other pots and pans.  Right now, there is only one under there.  Where is the other one?  Who knows!  How can a 9x13 Pyrex casserole dish just disappear??  I know I didn't take it somewhere, because I don't use my "everyday" casserole dishes for that, and my portable one, with the carry case and the insert, is where it should be.  Somewhere, in this house, is a 9x13 Pyrex casserole dish -- and that's a BIG thing you'd think I'd not lose. 

Our silverware is another mystery. We have a set of everyday silverware. We have eight knives, eight forks, eight tablespoons, eight dessert forks and ... three teaspoons. THREE. Actually, it's worse. A while back, I went to Walmart and bought a pack of eight teaspoons. Just teaspoons. They don't exactly match the rest of our silverware, but it's close enough. We are now down to three. So the original eight have turned up missing as have five of the replacements. And it's only the small spoons. What?  Why?  Where are my spoons going?  And why don't the knives or forks ever go missing?

I have five chopping boards. One is HUGE, and glass, and I hate it. We got it because it was large enough to hold an entire turkey or a big roast, but the board doesn't have a lipped edge, so if you use it to carve meat, the juices run off the edge and puddle on the counter. And it won't fit in the dishwasher so you have to hand wash it, but it barely fits in the sink.  That hideous, hateful chopping board I can find easily. I also have an itty-bitty chopping board that barely is bigger than an onion.  Useless, in my opinion, but I know where that one is (above the oven, right next to Boardzilla).  The other three are the perfect size, perfect weight, perfect design ... and I can find one.  One!  Now, seriously, how can two chopping boards disappear?  I've looked in every cabinet, closet, drawer, shelf -- my kitchen isn't that big!  Where ARE they?  And why is it the perfect boards are missing, yet Boardzilla is still holding court in my cabinet, mocking me every time I open the cabinet door?

I have one necklace I wear daily, one bracelet and one pair of earrings.  That's it, that's the only jewelry I wear on a daily basis (excluding my wedding ring that I never take off).  I always take off the bracelet, necklace and earrings and put them, all together, in a little dish I keep on my nightstand (ok, it's an ashtray I stole from a hotel, back in the day when hotels had ashtrays LOL, but it was a fancy hotel and it's a nice ashtray!).  I do that every night. A week ago or so, the necklace wasn't there.  My bracelet and earrings were, but no necklace.  I tore the house apart -- looked behind everything, under everything -- I've had my husband look ... it's gone. 

Maybe it's partying with my Pyrex baking dish and my teaspoons. 

The necklace I can understand. It's small, it has probably fallen done behind something or underneath something ... jewelry is easy to misplace. But a 9x13 baking dish?  Two chopping boards?  13 teaspoons?  Those didn't fall behind my nightstand.  That defies my understanding.

I don't even mind so much the big stuff, I can easily replace the spoons, the baking dish, the chopping boards. The necklace, tho, that I do grieve. It was a gift from my daughter and I've worn it every day for years and years. I still look for that, daily, because I desperately want to find it. 

I just don't know how things -- BIG things, odd things -- go missing.  

This rate, I'm going to have to add "my sanity / my mind" to Things I've Lost Lately.  

If anyone wants to come over and help me look for a missing necklace, I'd be glad to thank you with a gift of The Worlds Largest and Most Useless Chopping Board.  That monstrosity refuses to get lost.  

Just don't ask for a spoon with which to stir your coffee.  I only have three, and they are probably all in the dishwasher. At least I know where my dishwasher is -- for now, at least LOL!  

Bathrobe and Oreos Monday

I read a blog of a rather well-known person; she has thousands of followers and has been on TV / radio.  She is an amazing cook and her recipes are to-die for. She is also relentlessly upbeat and cheery and perky.  She posts things on Facebook like, "I woke up this morning, blessed and filled with joy -- I decided to find joy in my life, and now I wake up happy, choosing to be happy every single second of every single day."

I'm not a total, doom-and-gloom pessimist, but I do have my Eeyore moments. I read things like that, and my first thought is, "I declare shenanigans!"  While I agree that our happiness, or lack thereof, can be driven by our own attitude, I refuse to believe there are people who are perpetually upbeat and perky. 24/7/365.  Forever and ever, amen.  Until death do us part.  That's just ... unrealistic.

I also know people on the other end of the spectrum, folks who are perpetual Debbie Downers, who can suck the joy out of any situation and who are NEVER happy.  My husband and I talk about one such person, saying if she were to find a hundred dollar bill, she'd complain it wasn't $500.  She can find the down side, the negative, in any situation.

As with Perpetually Perky, I think Debbie Downers are play acting.  I don't believe people are truly deliriously joyful every single second of every single day, nor do I think being happy is just a "choice"; just as I don't think being Negative Nellie is just "how someone is".

Sometimes, life sucks. Sometimes, it's a burden and a drudge and a heartache. Sometimes, just getting out of bed and showered is a monumental success. I have days like that -- I assume we all do. Thankfully, those days are few and far between, and they're usually short-lived; and when whatever crisis that triggered it has passed, I'm back to my old self.  But I get tired of hearing that happiness is a "choice" and that we need to just *decide* to be happy.  

What's so wrong with, for legitimate reasons and for short periods of time, being in a pissy, "feeling sorry for myself" mood? 

I'm not talking about those folks who have built a home on the shores of the Pity Pond and can't go five minutes without dipping their toes in the water ... those people tire me out.  I wouldn't want to be forever walking around with a rain cloud over my head, but just as unrealistic are the "life is wonderful because I choose to greet each morning with a hug and a kiss" people.

I have had great heartache in my life -- AS HAVE WE ALL.  My specific heartaches may be mine alone, but we all share similar stories:  the loved ones we've buried too soon; the hurts and betrayals of those who were supposed to never do that; the anguish of loss that leaves us curled up in the fetal position, unable to even speak.  I've also had unimaginable joys in my life -- AS HAVE WE ALL.  My specific joys may be mine alone, but we all share similar stories:  the babies we've held, so overcome with love that all we can do is weep in wonder; the feeling of astonishment when you look down the aisle and you see someone who loves you with an intensity and passion that you know it's a forever-love; the beauty of a perfect sunset and the realization that God Himself did that, just for me!

But those sorrows and joys aren't the day-to-day moments. The day-to-day joys are smaller:  a perfect cup of coffee, a "thinking of you, let's have lunch" text from a friend, a favorite song on Pandora bringing back a forgotten memory that makes you smile. 

And sometimes, the day-to-day stresses, while small, can pile up.  And up.  And up.

When I have good thing followed by good thing followed by good thing, my natural inclination is to be happy (duh).  No one condemns me for that, it's natural and normal and expected.

But when life is one of those "Let's crap on Sandra" phases, and stuff piles ... and up ... and up ... my natural inclination is to NOT be happy (duh, part II).  That's natural and normal and expected.  

I'm not talking a full-blown, "let's medicate her" depressive episode (yet, I reserve that option for later, tho) but some days I want to -- NEED TO -- spend the day in my jammies, feeling sorry for myself.  Tomorrow, I'll tackle the budget, the overdue electric bill, the broken washing machine, whatever ... but in my opinion, a short-lived swim in the Pity Pond can be good for what ails ya.

I wonder, do those "greet every sunrise with a hug and kiss" people really, truly believe that?  I'm grateful for the blessings I have, I have a pretty darn good life filled with amazing things and moments and people.  It's not a perfect life, but it's pretty terrific and I wouldn't change much about it even if I could, but there are times when it gets tiring ("it" being the piddly junk that litters our life:  budgets that work on paper but not in reality, cars that inexplicably flash the Check Engine Light, rude people in WalMart, family members who say/do the ONE THING that makes your brain explode).  And when that piles up, I don't want to greet the day with a cheery song.  I want to stay in bed, read stupid books and  eat cookies.

Do the Perpetually Perky people of the world ever feel that way?  And is it healthy to never ever just say, "Oh, screw it.  I'm going back to bed"?  

I would bet that Perpetually Perky's husband and kids might tell of a time or two when she moped around in her bathrobe, eating Oreos.  And in my book, that's ok.   I'd actually feel more able to relate to her Greet The Sunrise With a Hug and Kiss philosophy if I knew she was human and, every few months, had a Bathrobe and Oreos Monday. 

So to both the Perpetual Debbie Downers and the Perpetually Perky Pollyannas, I think you're full of it. No one (excluding certain patients diagnosed with psychological issues, and who are currently unmedicated) can, or should be, on one end of the spectrum or the other. I do find the simple  joy in little things -- but I also, at times, get overwhelmed and need to lick my wounds.  And guess what?  I think that's perfectly normal.

Now, morning people?  Y'all are just weird. :)