Disillusionment, or Friends with Benefits?

I have decided something about myself that may either be wonderful, or tragically limiting. I am a strong woman. Yay. But one does not go through the things I have endured without growing and learning a thing or two. My senior year in college was supposed to be fantabulous. Instead, my mother had a stroke and my theoretical fiance shit-canned my ass. So of course, these are not the makings for wondrous life memories. Somehow, I inadvertently fell into my mother's shoes. We always claim we will NEVER be like our parents. I was no different... as a teenager, I swore I would never be my mother. However, a few years down the road, and innumerably years wiser, I realize that I am a somewhat more open-minded and certainly more brazen version of my own mother. And I am fiercely proud of that fact. But alas, I digress. I have discovered that, as a "strong" woman, few men truly want to be with me. I sense there is some sort of unspoken complex? I don't know. And truly I don't care, as I am not likely to change my being in the immediate (or distant) future. At any rate, it is not looking good for me in terms of finding a suitable husband who does not want me to change my intrinsic personality. Compromise is acceptable, but where does one draw the line? So my ultimate question is, do we, as strong women in the world, cave in to the demands of an antiquated societal norm, or do we just find Friends With Benefits that can supply all the biological needs of release and procreation? I really haven't decided yet... but match.com is looking better and better every day.

Don't Bother Me, I am Watching the Game

It is no secret that I am an avid football fan. I, whether for better or worse, actually broke up with someone because he chose to talk at me during a football game (and not about things pertaining to the previous play). Anyhow, the Patriots are my team. I realize that, as far as New England sports go, I am a newcomer to the Fan life, and have had it pretty good thus far. Since I have been watching, we have won 3 Superbowls (and, of course, the Sox broke The Curse). Many older fans have chastised me over the fact that they lived through many years of crappy playing by the Patriots, and that I have missed out on the true angst that makes a Pats/Sox fan. Whatever. I can't really be held accountable for the fact that I was not fully cognizant when the ball went between Bucky's legs, or that the Pats didn't actually know how to play football before 1997 or so. But I digress. Since I have begun watching football, my life is scheduled around the Pats playing schedule. I NEVER miss a game (in fact, once I completely blew off work in order to go to a game at the stadium, which goes quite against my personal work ethic). So this evening, I watched the Pats/Redskins game, and was disheartened to see that the game was just not interesting to watch. While I like seeing my team win, it is pretty sad that the other team never showed up. With a score of 52-0 (until the last 3 minutes), it became apparent that snipers could take out every one of the Pats, leaving the Redskins all by their onesies, and they STILL would have lost. That sort of takes the oomph out of watching The Game.

Spinnybits

My friend Andrew has an amazing capacity to give things unique and often bizarre names. Gold's Gym is affectionately termed "Lumpy's Bump Menagerie." As I have recently acquired a new car, I figured it needed a new and unique name. Who better to come up with one than Sir Andrew? The complete name given was: His Ducal Serene Highness Stanislaw Spinnybits, Third Regent and Landscape Architect of the Sargasso Sea. I am not entirely certain what this means, or where on earth it came from, but I think I like it. However, it will take me weeks to memorize that, so I am thinking I might just keep it at Spinnybits. I often wonder how Andrew comes up with these things, and have since decided that it is probably better not to question it. The man works for the government; I don't know exactly what his station is, but I am quite sure that if he told me, he would have to kill me.

Thank God

Sometimes, I forget to take the time to realize just how lucky I am. God has blessed me with a wonderful family, precious friends, and a gift of music that I would not give up for anything in this world. But usually, I don't actually take the time to thank Him. I just seem to think that the things I have are from my own doing, when I realize in my heart that this is not so. While I update my blog today, I think about the car accident I had just hours earlier. If I had not hit my brakes when I did I would, at the least, be in the hospital, maybe worse. Someone was watching out for me today, and I can't begin to thank Him enough. There are still a lot of things that I want to do in this life, and I can only hope that it is part of His plan that I do them. Most of the time, we go on our way, not thinking of anything other than ourselves. I wish it didn't take a mild crisis like a car accident to remind me that there is a greater plan out there, and that I am only a part of it, not the driving force.

Too Much Information

Before Lola had a nearly tragic accident, she was regaling readers with the stories of her vacation... and sort of got lazy and forgot about them. During her jaunt in NH, she discovered an important thing about parents and adulthood. When we are children, we try to think of ourselves as adults. However, once we reach adulthood, we discover it is not all it is cracked up to be. Lola got just such a life lesson while camping with friends in the woods. Lola learned that there is a nebulous dividing line with one's parents. Whilst growing up, parents tell their children only what is necessary for daily life... however, as we age, they let down their guard. At some point, Lola and her best friend discovered that this invisible line had been crossed when her father started making jokes of a sexual nature. Amongst friends, this is completely normal. But Lola must say, there is something decidedly bizarre about hearing someone you think of as a father discussing sexual topics, or in fact, his sex life. I do believe that crosses the Too Much Information Act of 1974. Lola will say, however, that she is mildly amused (if somewhat disturbed) by the candor that parents are now showing around her.

Crash Into Me

So there I am... driving along... and I develop momentary color-blindness. On a relatively busy road in Norwood, I mistook a red light for a green one, and only realized at the last moment my error. I slammed on my brakes, but unfortunately not in time to avoid collision with another car. I suppose it could have been worse... if I had not hit my brakes, the other car would have crashed into my driver side door, leaving me squashed. As it was, I hit his passenger side fender. Basically, his car was left with a dent, while mine was crumpled up like an unwanted piece of paper. Antifreeze is not such a bright, lovely green when it is oozing out of one's car onto the pavement. And for those of you who have never had your airbags deployed, let me warn you... the scent is something akin to being on the firing range with melting plastic in the background. Granted, I am quite happy to be sitting here, continuing the Saga of Lola.... but am also rather pissed that I have to buy a new car, considering I just finished paying for this one last month. Ah, God moves in mysterious ways.

Plunk

During one of my uneventful moments on the dock, waiting for some hapless fish to get stuck on my hook, I discovered that at some point, Laura's reel had lost a screw. While I was sitting talking to her, slowly reeling in the line, I discovered that I was turning the reel, but nothing was happening. I looked down to discover the handle was in one hand, the rod in another. Neither one of us had heard the screw fall out, and we most certainly should have heard the plunk. At any rate, later that same evening, Matt was sitting with me while Laura helped with dinner. I continued to fish, for I had discovered that as long as I held the handle carefully, it would stay in place until we had gone to the hardware store to buy a new screw. I was explaining to Matt the mysterious injury to the rod, when I cast the line, and heard a tell-tale PLUNK! There was a split second of silence while Matt looked down at the water, and I began hysterical, uncontrollable gales of laughter. He asked me what it was, and when I could not control my laughing, I just held up the rod and showed him the handle-less reel. Both of us were in hysterics for quite some time. I spent a few moments trying to figure out the proper way to explain it to Laura... I finally decided on: "Before I tell you this, I want to tell you I will fix it... Now remember that plunk we didn't hear before? Well... I have since heard it, and it sounded exactly as you would expect it to sound...."

These Are All Mine Now.

Matt taught me to play poker the other night! I have wanted to learn, but no one has successfully explained it to me. Matt was quite the teacher. I discovered that the game is all about playing odds, and appearing as though you know what you are doing. I am good at that sort of faking. He explained the different hands to me, and betting strategies. Soon, I was more or less able to play without constantly asking questions. At one point, I laid down my cards, pointed to the chips and said in a sweet, innocent voice, "So these are all mine now, right?" They laughed and agreed that I was not entirely helpless. I had a wonderful night of beginner's luck, and Laura and I had to loan her father and husband chips in order to keep them playing. Poker is just no fun if there are only two of you!

Fishing with the Peanut Gallery

On this trip, I was actually able to fish a few times. I, by no stretch of the imagination, know what I am doing while fishing... I have but the vaguest idea of what I am supposed to do. But Laura and I had a hell of a time sitting on the dock, fishing, and shooting the shit. I caught several little fish, while Laura managed to get a small-mouth bass that was big enough to eat. We of course decided that it was necessary to eat what we had caught, so her father brought us down to the shore and showed us both how to properly clean a fish. I can honestly say it was a touch gross, but not so bad it would keep me from doing it myself, should I catch a fish large enough. We sauteed it with butter, salt and pepper. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. There is something existential in catching and eating your own food. Maybe just empowering. Anyhow, I was on a mission. Wednesday morning, I actually got up at 5:30 in the morning to sit on the dock with a rod and some worms! It was gorgeous. The weather was perfect, the water calm, and I even got to see a sunrise for the first time in years! Unfortunately, the only fish I caught was not really large enough to eat. And, he was troublesome... the little bugger jumped out of the bucket 5 times! He managed to time it so that each time he made an escape attempt, I had just cast my fishing line. I tried to reason with him... told him that jumping onto the dock where he would suffocate was going to help no one. I finally decided that I didn't really want to eat a fish that was so hell-bent on dying in the first place. So I let him go.

Sunrise, Sunset

It is easy for one to forget the simple things in life. Lola had become so engrossed in her studies, music, and beginning a career that she had forgotten how much she loved the outdoors. While in NH, she was able to just sit back and listen for once. And yes, believe it or not, she was quiet. One morning, she got up at the ass crack of dawn, and was able to see the sunrise over the mountains across the lake. One cannot watch the sun rise or set without feeling some intense sense of awe and wonder about the world around them. The sounds of creatures in the woods was relaxing, as was the constant breaking of waves on the rocks along the shoreline. Maybe Lola will buy a house on a lake in NH when she is rich and famous.