witifulramblings

Archive for the ‘wit’ Category

HOLSTEE JULY: How I Seized Life Through An Air Freshener

In Holstee Manifesto, Humanity, Laughter, life, Love, Men, Romance, Teaching, wit, Women on August 1, 2012 at 8:14 am

We’ve almost made it through the Manifesto. Sad but true.

Anyway, I was trying to figure out how to fit the following experience into one of the last left proclamations–attempting to create a moment of inspiration. We’ll see how it goes.

This last week my boyfriend stayed at my house (he works away mostly and it seemed better than him renting a hotel for the short duration of him being back in town).  He decided to get me a gift, one to say thank you for putting up with me, my dirty feet, protein powder spillage, and changing my 3 year-old’s diaper blowout.  Mostly though, he wanted to say thank you for letting him use my bathroom for his ‘starbuck’s special’ as he has entitled them.

His gift was very thoughtful given the aforementioned.

He brings in the Target bag, and pulls out whatever else he has purchased, then leaning towards me as he is simultaneously pulling my gift out of the bag too says, “here, I got this for you. I thought about getting you a couple new soap dispensers (since I cracked both of mine in my move) but I forgot to hit that aisle.  Then he proceeds to hand me an AirWick Limited Edition Air Freshener (OK, it was a little fancier but this is funnier).  I was taken aback, I immediately hugged him and thanked him as he set it up over the toilet (I have since moved it to the bedroom now that he is no longer using my loo for his starbuck’s specials).  He was proud, very proud.

I thought long and hard about this gift.  It really was very thoughtful seeing as he uses the toilet 2, sometimes 3 times per day.  In his mind, he really did have my best interest at heart (or he just couldn’t find the soap dispenser aisle).

So, back to the manifesto: SOME OPPORTUNITIES ONLY COME ONCE, SEIZE THEM.

Seize every moment, whether it’s what you expect or not–just like I did as I was handed a target bag with an aromatic device.  It was really more than an airwick, it was an opportunity for compassion and thoughtfulness.  It’s a smell I cherish now that he’s gone–I love it because it reminds me of a moment, an opportunity, that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

a chicken whit.

Day 54: Fumbling With Power Tools.

In DIY, Humor, Men, wit, Women, Work on July 15, 2012 at 6:13 am

This is my street.

This is my neighbor on my street…this morning.

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A little later on today…

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And…

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Man versus woman. Man fumbles, woman gets it done. Nuff said.

Day 53: The Ugly Truth (About This Mirror): What MeiJo Didn’t Tell You

In DIY, Home Decor, wit on July 13, 2012 at 10:41 am

I found this mirror tutorial here.  I purposefully didn’t post anything about this project because I wasn’t sure if it would ever actually transpire, and for fear of looking like an idiot, I thought I’d just keep it hush. Finally, in the off chance I did get around to it, which I was sure I would not, it’d be my luck the thing would look like a lopsided ‘cheap’ idea.

Well. This really is a great idea.  I don’t know why but for some reason it just didn’t occur to me that this might be a tedious idea, you think?  MeiJo fails to mention that after gluing hundreds, if not thousands (we did make it into the thousands), of tiny little sequins you will certainly have ten burnt fingertips, a backache, and I managed to somehow pull a joint near my groin (I liked to glue the sequins in a squating position on the floor–not so smart). Each row takes anywhere from 1-2 hours and they only get bigger and more complicated as you move outward (the beauty of the starburst design).

So now that you know the truth, here are some things I found helpful (if you decide to brave this DIY).

A pineapple corer works great for getting the cardboard to form into an actual circle.

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Don’t worry if your ‘circles” have bumps (most of mine did) minus this one:

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Be sure to pick the dried hot glue off as you go.

Press the sequins on from the sides so the glue doesn’t go through the center hole.

Don’t worry about the circles matching up—no one will be able to tell.

I put my sequins on as I went to act as “placeholders” then I would pick them off and move them if needed.

Basically, by the 800th sequin (literally) I was beginning to not like this piece as much.  You couldn’t pay me any amount of money to make another one of these.

MeiJo’s

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Mine

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signed a whit-ing addict that hopes she never sees a silver sequin again. That said mirror= 8$. My life gluing sequins for five days: priceless.

Being A Mom: Day 30

In God, Happiness, Humanity, life, Love, Mother, Parenting, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Women, Work on September 19, 2011 at 4:18 am

As I was walking through the bookstore the other day I saw this book and thought, “shit, there goes my idea.”  [Laughing] perhaps I can recover from this catastrophe somehow.  One can only hope.  Maybe if I add a spin on it and name the book, “How To Be Happy–While Living in a Port-O-Potty.” Of course, that would require me to go homeless, which is plausible I suppose.  In fact, as I was walking to class the other day I felt like I had somehow become the embodiment of Will Smith in film The Pursuit of Happiness.  I am being a little melodramatic.

Tonight it took me two minutes to answer the question , “black or pinto beans.”  I didn’t want to blabber pinto amidst tears, so I just stood there fighting them and then was finally able to speak, “black.”  I changed my mind two seconds later to pinto, instead.  Then, since I was ordering vegetarian, the guy said to me, “you know they have bacon!”  Like I’m some kind of vegetarian sinner, he cast his guilty eye, “yes, I know they are “roasted” in bacon, whatever, if I ever find an actual piece in there I will let you know.  Hasn’t happened yet.

I considered eating my burrito at Chipotle, but I eventually decided to take it home.  Then I sat at my table and stared at the beautiful flowers sent to me just yesterday.  About midway though I couldn’t take it any longer, so I just laid my head down and cried.  Little e wasn’t sent home on his flight today, and I miss him.  I’m exhausted, sad he won’t be to school tomorrow, and worried I won’t get to spend his birthday with him on Wednesday.  Ironically, I was able to read through my last posting,  which forced me to remember what it means to be a mother.  It means that sometimes we have to do hard things, sometimes we have to make sacrifices (and our children have to make sacrifices) in order to grow together. I think that’s what makes the best moms.  It’s not the ones who stay home with their kids (although some would argue this is), or those who know how to construct the perfect cupcake for their child’s birthday party, or even those who breastfeed for two years and let not an ounce of formula touch the lips of their infant.  It’s the mother who shows her child how much she loves him by bettering herself for him/her.  It’s the mother who while bettering herself shares that betterment with her child (a gift that will keep on giving for generations to come).  It’s the mother who always takes the time, no matter how busy life gets, to give her child what she can.  Sometimes, when life is busy, its the little thats given that means the most.

I am missing little e tonight, and I hope tomorrow brings resolve.  I hope he knows I wish I was spending time with him tonight, even though it may not be the most, it’s the most meaningful when we share it.

A whit-ing mom.

Photo taken by Angie Hill @ Google Images.

Play the Game or NOT: Day Nineteen

In Articles, Blogging, Dating, Humor, Romance, Sex, Thoughts, wit, Women, Writing on November 17, 2010 at 8:27 pm

Oh, the frustration.  Sometimes I feel like I’m navigating my way through a corn maze, turning this way and that, never reaching an endpoint, an escape.

I can remember being twelve and waiting for the day when I could go out with friends, drive my own car, and go on a real date.  Ha.  Been there done that, and at twenty-six I’m beginning to wonder what fourteen years of dating (with a few intermissions) does to the soul and the brain.

So, I got to thinking, what has changed?  Well, certainly the dating process.    When I was sixteen boys, I emphasize boys, picked me up from my house, in their cars, and met my parents.  Okay–there’s a process, a gentlemanly one, I could do without the adolescent parental meeting but the offer of a pickup would be nice.  I’d probably deny, given my current safety measures, but again it would be gentlemanly.

Then we’d go on the date, probably drive to restaurant or a movie, after which we’d return home.  He’d drop me off.

Huh.  Well, at twenty-six, I’m getting offers for coffee (which I don’t even drink for pleasure) and/ or a cocktail, really?  I’m going to be pretty hungry– but highly caffeinated or a bit intoxicated, that’ll do.

No movies.

No food.

No pickup.

No drop-off.

Um, why am I dating again?  I’ve decided it’s  a political game–the politics of the heart, gender, and mind.

Or maybe it’s all just one big sex conspiracy.  I’ll have to meditate on that one.

a dating whit.

Should I get Divorced?: Day Eighteen

In Articles, Blogging, Blogs, Dating, Education, Esteem, Family, Fiction, Friends, Happiness, Humanity, Laughter, life, literature, Love, Men, Men, Mother, Musings, Parenting, Politics, Romance, Sex, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Women, Work, Writing on November 16, 2010 at 6:51 am

It seems to me that after you experience divorce, that is, become a divorcee, you also become a magnet for those seeking “friendly” relationship advice.  Since my divorce, I have never had so many married friends approach me expressing their own personal marital woes.  Can we say smoke and mirrors?

So, what do you say to these helpless worshippers?  Their eyes pining upwards toward yours, in dismay, you (well I) certainly cannot leave them hanging.

So, I tell them what my mother told me almost four years ago–

“It’s time to evaluate.  There are thirty days in a month and if over half of those thirty days are spent in argument/fighting/retribution, then you seriously need to consider your life.”

So, I did the addition and I recommend it to my pleading friends as well.  If you’re in the negative then…

I guess this doesn’t necessarily mean divorce, it didn’t for me, marriage counseling can always be the next step but most I find have already given that a fair shot.  So, then I move to my next bit of advice.

It isn’t easy (divorce that is).  So, consider wisely.  This isn’t a life and death situation, in any sense of physicality, but it may be with regard to the soul, your soul.  If he doesn’t pick up his dirty underwear, empty the dishwasher, or clean off the toilet seat–you may want to hire a maid and get a good job with long work hours, instead.  No, but seriously, divorce isn’t easy and making that jump will most certainly change you in every way possible, good and bad.  It will also present a little addition to your life.  Something I like to call the “what if factor.”

What if he had been different?

What if I had been different?

What if the timing had been different?

What if that whore from the Nordstrom shoe department had never been working that Wednesday afternoon when my husband, on a whim, decided to go peruse for a new pair of penny loafers?

You’ll always wonder, what might have been?  What dreams might have come AND could things have worked?  This is what you sacrifice when you choose divorce.  You sacrifice ever knowing.  However, consider this, whose to say things wouldn’t have been different anyway because with every circumstance, every change, there comes a differing outcome.  So, maybe the Nordstrom girl wasn’t there that Wednesday, instead, five years later your hubby gets run over by a truck crossing the street–either way, you’re alone with accompanying heartache.  It’s all a matter of relativity and the passage of time, leading you this way and that, all dependent on varying occurences.  I think Robert Frost put it nicely, “And both [roads] that morning equally lay / In leaves no step had trodden black / Yet knowing how way leads on to way / I doubted if I should ever come back.”

So, finally when I have exhausted all the aforementioned then I end with this, “secure your finances before ever mentioning the word divorce.”  Trust me, it’s not being deceitful…it’s being smart.  If you have to, stick it out, until you have what you need to leave.  I’ve encountered many friends, with young children, no assets, no education, their husband(s) owning everything; having reduced them to the life of: housewife.  Just make sure you leave when the time is ripe, oops, I mean right. 😉  It never hurts to get a little legal advice prior.

A good friend from back when I was married emailed me the other day concerning a matter similar to this post’s topic.  I thought it funny, she, after all these years, my divorce from her husband’s friend, had returned to me for some semblance of hope.  My final words to her, “I’ll be praying for you and your little family.”

That’s how my advice column will always end, always.

A divorced whit.

Daily Cupcake: From little e

In Blogging, Friends, Happiness, Humanity, life, Politics, Thoughts, wit, Work, Writing on November 6, 2010 at 9:53 pm

Today I told little e he can manage the daily cupcake.

So, here’s what he has to share.

My friends at school are really nice.  They are so helpful.

To supplement this–check this out. Enjoy,

Daily Cupcake: A TED Talk, Srikumar Rao

In Blogging, Education, Happiness, Humor, life, wit on August 24, 2010 at 3:45 am

I love love love TED Talks.  So, I went in search of a good one to share.  Here’s what I found awhile back, dug it up from the archives. I love how Rao incorporates the common philosophical “if then model” to demonstrate a very simplistic life predicament.

Sharing Life: Day Fourteen

In Articles, Blogging, Blogs, Dating, English Major, Esteem, Friends, Happiness, Laughter, life, Love, Musings, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Writing on August 16, 2010 at 7:21 pm

There’s this little white blank church I would pass everyday on my way to work.  I’d find myself wondering, who worships here, who fills this place every Sunday?  What are their thoughts, hopes, desires, and pains?  That happened every morning for a few months.  I was so tempted to return on a Sunday, the place was so lonely, but I knew there was a time of infusion.  The worshippers would come and breathe vitality into this place.

In your life there comes an instant where you really have to sit and evaluate who you are and what you’re living for.  This moment isn’t the same for everyone.  For some it comes by a breath of happiness, others tragedy, some change.  I can remember the day I got married.  I thought this was my juncture.  Here I would ask, “Who are you?  Who loves you? And then, you are going to have this beautiful life with this beautiful person—you are defined.”  But these moments aren’t so easily recognized, and oftentimes they happen without us even noticing it.  This is how it happened to me.  I did get married, I remember pieces of that day so vividly, and I hold them in my heart, mostly so I can share them with little e.  I recall the pink cake, and how the train on my dress ripped unexpectedly, I remember sitting on a bench, surrounded by white, staring out through the etched windows of the church.  Uniquely, I remember doing all of these things by myself (this is quite anomalous for someone’s wedding day).  I don’t ever remember being scared, or worried, or even unsure.  I felt blank.  This was not my moment.

Six years have passed since that occasion.  Now, I find myself meditating on who I’ve become and what that experience did to my life.  I realize that I’m angry.  I’m so mad at the person who betrayed me–he let me down.  I direct that anger, not at him, but at people I’ve dated since him.  It may be something they do, something they say, it reminds me, and then suddenly I see a reflection of his face staring back at me.  While this is happening, I let him do whatever he wants.  I never show disappointment, or rage, for him I am still blank.  Once he told me, after everything was done, he was about to remarry, “I am so sorry for ruining you.”  I responded with a quick, “thanks?”  That was my first evaluation session (some people have more than one).  I was no one, a ruined individual that was it.  Well, you know what they say, “ruin is the road to transformation.”  I gave myself a few months and began taking that seriously.  Then with the start of this project there came my second moment.  I write it out and I begin to see who I am and what my dreams are.  I’ve accomplished. I’ve lived.  I don’t feel ruined anymore, but I have to stop being angry or I’ll never capture what I am truly living for, happiness.

So, I asked myself last night, what good has come from the end of that marriage? Immediately I thought, the people I have met.  I think about all of them.

****

Steve, his wife died of cancer and now he’s a single dad with two beautiful girls.  Chloe, his miracle baby.  She was delivered premature so that Bridget (Steve’s wife) could undergo chemo.  Then there’s Grace.  Steve once told me that while driving in the car Grace noticed the leaves outside falling, blowing away.  She said something like, “Daddy, that’s like mommy right?  The leaves come and go.”  He loved that moment because his little girl understood life and death.  Steve taught that there is beauty in tragedy, and hope.

Karen, when I met her she was weak but at a distance I have seen her grow into someone of strength and courage.  Her family lives in Hawaii and she raises her son on her own.

Jason, his wife also died of cancer.  He graduated law school, top of his class, and got a job with one of the best firms in Nevada.  He bought a new home and then six months ago sold it after being laid off.  His daughter McKenna is beautiful and has a stitched pillow on her bed with a picture of her Mom holding her.  I met him right after my divorce and he taught how to move on.

Wayne.  I wonder about this one.  I spent a year crying that we weren’t together but then one day I realized, that’s a good thing, now you know what it feels like to love someone.  I never felt blank with him.

Dr. S, our custody evaluator.  I spent numerous trips to San Diego for sessions with this fellow.  He reassured me of all my parental intentions.  He never said, “you’re a great mom,” instead he said something much deeper, “you have a spectacular child, one who is very loved, I thoroughly enjoy little e.”  He restored my worth as a mother.

Joey.  A Mormon that taught me Mormons are good when I stopped believing they were.

Jerry.  He gave me my first job after my divorce.  When I started working for him I was timid.  I didn’t even know how to say, “I WANT THIS.” After leaving his office I worked for a law firm (that should give you a good idea of my progression).  I ran into him at the grocery store about two months ago, he said, “I can just see how you’re different.  You’ve got life in you.  You’re in a great place.”  He was a stepping stone.  I had to start somewhere and he gave me that opportunity.

The countless men I’ve dated.  They’ve taught me how to date, how to pray, how to recognize a wanker, how to listen, cultural awareness, money management, passion.

Glen.  He’s my attorney friend who always has good advice.  He’s also always on IM chat and easily accessible.  We’ve been friends for three years now.

Scott.  A single Dad who loves taking me to concerts and being my “wingman.”  He’s always willing to take one for the team.

Chloe.  I just met her, but she reminds me of all my college girlfriends.  Chloe laughs with me and it gives me a sense of “times gone by.”  She’s great.

James.  He taught me about addiction, what it’s like to live in the shadow of it.  I pray for him.  Memories of James helped me through some tough family times.  I needed to meet him.

Toby.  He sold me an Anthropologie rug off craigslist.  A cute aussie who has since moved back to Melbourne.  In a late night conversation he was able to get through to me.  He also taught me the word “wankers,” which I love.

Jonathon.  He started out as the perfect date.  He’s an English professor who loves literature.  I learned from him that I may be able to get a job when I someday finish school.

Professor Ochoa.  She told me that someday I’ll write a book.

****

I look at all these people and cannot help but smile.  They’ve given me so much life, they are all so beautiful, and have attributed to the transformation currently underway.  I am like the white church, the blank lonely church, and all of my friends they are the worshippers. They come into my life, at their moments, and they infuse me.  I am going to stop being angry, and self-conscious, and closed.  I am going to let more people in. I said before that life is defined by moments, but I retract that statement.  Instead, life is defined by the moments you share with others.

Haircuts and Love: Letting Go To Let Life In (Day Twelve)

In Blogging, Blogs, Esteem, Faith, Family, Friends, God, Humanity, Humor, Laughter, life, Love, Men, Mother, Parenting, Romance, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Writing on August 11, 2010 at 2:04 am

Sorry I have been absentee for a bit, turns out unemployment is real kicker.  But I figure, hey, if I can be happy without any income or anything to do for eight hours in the day then I will be just fine in life.  So, I’m still plugging away at this bliss thing and now I’m looking for it in all of the least likely places, but perhaps that is where happiness is the most abundant.  They do say, happiness isn’t having what you want but rather wanting what you have.  This sure as hell isn’t what I expected but by golly it’s what I got to work with.

I have a plethora of happenings to share.  Turns out Ethan isn’t just an “idea” or figment of my imagination.  I was feeling rather awake last night, at 3 a.m., and decided to check out the online personals.  There, in a black and white photo, he was.  His hair flowing and pearly white teeth.  For the moment, I thought it pure luck but then I remembered, “He is just a reflection, one you have abandoned, and now you must resume with your own ideal.”  In reality, I met him at a bar.  He looked sad, was obviously uninterested, and ran away mysteriously when the night ended.  It ended there, so I kept browsing.

I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately.  Then this happened,

I took E to get a haircut this past weekend.  Somewhere along the way I decide to try a new adventure—barbering school.  It was one of those ingenious light bulb moments, as soon as I saw it, aha perfect.  Mostly because the ad read five bucks and I was being cheap.  As soon as we pushed through the revolving door I began to fearfully contemplate my previous ingenuity.  We were the only Caucasian people in the entire garage-like shop.  Everywhere I look, all I see, CLIPPERS!  It was like one of those cheesy horror films where the girl looks from left to right to left, no escape, and then she screams.

My usual haircut order goes a little something like this,

“Scissors ONLY, not too short on the sides, about an inch off the top and clean it up around the edge—keep the sideburns.  Absolutely no clippers, none.”  Then I stand by nervously, invading the stylists  personal space, while I give her careful instruction throughout.  In no time at all, she grabs the hair between her fingers, looks at me, “is this okay to cut?”  It’s true, I am feverishly neurotic about my child’s monthly haircuts.

Back to the cultural barbershop,

We approach the register and the lady informs me of their, “no card” policy, but not to worry that I can go get some money at the Dollar Tree two shops down.  If I don’t die on the way. I failed to mentioned that it took a thirty minute trip into the ghetto to reach this detination five dollar barbershop.  We leave and head to Dollar Tree. After twenty minutes in line, waiting for our cash dispenser,  I suddenly realize we’re going nowhere.  Looking ahead I spot a man pointing his fingers in an upward motion, then downward, he starts singing, stops, jumps backward, and lets out a huge “Ahhhhh Gotcha,” finger wink included.  It took me awhile, but finally I recognize his behavior as delusional.  That day all Dollar Tree customers got a cartful of cheap shit and a Ray Charles reenactment.  After another twenty minutes and an entire scene he pays the cashier, slowly we move ahead.  The man in front of us must have felt sorry for E having to wait because he slipped him a dollar bill on the way out.

Making it back to the barbershop I provide payment, after which a woman inquires what I would like (see above).  She shoots a look of dismay and finally grunts, “I think I can do it.”  This scares me.  My little E has the most precious blond locks, but his hair is fine,  and ah chop chop is an easy look for someone lacking Caucasian hair expertise.

Thirty minutes and three barbers later  five chunks are missing, and it looks like someone took a weedwacker to my kid’s head.  I respectfully request a refund and they scoot us out the door, quickly suggesting a salon across the way.  They were quite happy to see us go–as were we to be going.  At this point, I am running across the parking lot happy to pay for any overpriced haircut.  Thankfully, Suzie knows what she is doing and produces a decent fix.  It was the first time in four years of haircuts that I sat peacefully in the waiting area.  It was while I was doing this that I noticed an older woman in the corner.  She had bruises and sores covering her body complete with a chin full of hair–I bet she’d seen better days.  Then I began to pity her, imagining her life.

“That poor woman probably sits in a nursing home all day.  I bet her kids never visit her.  I mean if I was her kid I would at the very least take her to get a chinny wax. This is probably the highlight of her week, getting her hair washed.”

I felt so utterly dismayed for this woman.  Then in he came, an older man.  He touched her shoulder softly and bent down to whisper in her ear.  He was gentle with her and it was quite obvious that he was her her husband.  He then handed her some cash (as all husbands should do).  My despair for her dissipated.

This love obviously began during the innocent years of beauty, yet here it was, still, in the tender end.  Living on.  Everyone hopes they find that.  The kind of love that lasts through bed sores, sagging tattoos, heck even chin hair!

I’m glad I let go that day, relinquishing my haircut neurosis, because it let me see something I might not have otherwise.  I think from now on I’ll find happiness in being a little less compulsive.  It allows you to envelop life, that’s a great thing.


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