Random Thoughts

Don’t.   Say.   It.   It’s the 2 nd Sunday of May.   That’s the day women with no children and dead mothers consciously or unconsciously stay home.   We organize closets.   We cook.   We watch movies.   Anything to stay out of the public eye – to avoid the inevitable, the “Happy Mother’s Day!” greeting delivered with a smile. I thought I was safe this year.   I went no further than my own front porch.   I was working on some potted plants.   Then a woman walked by.   I smiled at her, as I smile at everyone who walks by.   Then she said it .   And in that moment, I was faced with the odd dilemma of what to say to her in return.   Instinctively, I did what my own mother taught me when I was young and responded in kind, “Happy Mother’s Day to you, too”.   But it wasn’t sincere.   I was angry that it came out of my mouth.   And it started me thinking. WHY do people say “Happy Mother’s D...

Relationships are strange.   So many factors involved: what is their purpose, how much energy must be devoted to them, what do we get out of them…   I confess that I am not the type of person to over-examine things, relationships included.   I hear of friends writing PLANS, 5 or 10 year schedules, for their lives and relationships.   You aren’t going to find such a plan on my laptop (or in one of the many half-used legal pads laying around the house).   I guess what I am trying to say is: I happened on a relationship that somehow just works .   It works without a real PLAN.   It works with very sporadic disputes.   It works without much fuss or caretaking – it just works.   And trust me, I know how lucky that is. Springtime in DC - trees are starting to bloom I realize I am (we are) fortunate to have somehow stumbled on each other 30 YEARS AGO.  Yesterday (Easter) was our 30 year anniversary.  We celebrate the anniver...

We had a scare yesterday. Well, WE didn’t exactly, but David did.  And I guess that is what made it so scary.  David is unflappable.  He does not really get frightened.  We can be in the middle of a huge rally or gathering, or a situation that is escalating, where I sense the potential for danger, and David remains calm and collected, never flinching. But yesterday he panicked.  And his reaction has made me reflect. First, the story:  for the last year or so I have wanted to PAINT ROCKS.  It is a trend – people paint rocks and then hide them for unsuspecting strangers to find.  It started as a kindness act – bring a little sunshine into someone’s life.  But it has become a bit of an “in group” thing now – people paint super fancy, beautiful rocks, then give their fellow rock painters hints at where they are hiding them, at which point hordes of collectors descend upon the hinted at location and score pretty treats.  ...

I guess I have always been a feminist.  A feminist in the sense that I believe that all genders are equal. The older I get, the more deeply I believe that, and the less I care about people who judge me for it. Apparently this is what a feminist looks like while watering the garden I am also a democrat, and a believer of many of the ideals the democratic party supports: women’s right to choose, gun control, health care as a human right, equal rights for all, etc. The night before the election at a big rally in Virginia In the 2016 presidential election I was unabashedly on TEAM HILLARY.  I had a big yard sign.  I sported t-shirts. I watched the debates (and played debate BINGO).  I was all in.  Ready for GOP Bingo - early on in the campaigning season Peace, Love, Hillary (canvasing with my partner 2 days before the election - we knocked on 49 doors and talked to 59 people) I live in Arlington, VA, very near DC, and on electio...

These roses are my mom. Summer 2014 - roses and bees Not my actual, real life mother, of course.   But they are part of her.   They are, in my mind, a living breathing reminder that she spent time on this earth.   That she smiled.   That she loved me.   And that she is gone. They were her roses – one of several bushes planted in my parents’ back yard in Omaha.  My dad was taking them out around 12 years ago and I carefully lugged one from Nebraska to Virginia, in the hopes that it would survive and I could plant it.  It worked.  And now, each spring it blossoms.  This year's blooms It doesn’t make the prettiest flowers – they are a bit scrawny and don’t have many leaves.   The roses do not have a scent, which always disappoints me.   Then stems are short so they are hard to cut and bring indoors.   And the they have some very wicked thorns – I have been cut by them many times.   But for all of th...

I think we all do it, really, in some form or the other.  We search for perfection.  Some people dream of a perfect BODY – curves in all the right places and nary a wrinkle.  Some people hunt for the perfect mate – someone who fits every idealized fantasy they can imagine.  Me – sometimes I catch myself running after the perfect EXPERIENCE… I did it tonight, and when I realized what was happening, I had to laugh. Here’s the deal – perfection doesn’t EXIST.  There is no perfect body, no perfect mate, no perfect family, no perfect house, or perfect life.  And there is no perfect experience .  Have you ever tried to do that – ensure that you will have the perfect experience??  If you can look at it from the outside, from a bird’s eye view, you will see how utterly ridiculous it is.  How about this one: trying to make the PERFECT HOLIDAY !!  You buy the biggest, fullest Christmas tree.  You decorate it with gorgeous o...

I got rear ended the other night. I was driving home, through DC, and stopped at a red light.  The car behind me was also stopped.  Only, then it WASN’T stopped, and it bonked (quite hard) right into me.  I was startled.  I jumped out to see what had happened, who had hit me.  The guy was still sitting in his car, so I walked up to his window, which he opened.  “What?”, was his response.  “What???  Umm, you just HIT ME, that’s what!”.  What followed was an exchange where he insisted it was “nothing” and I insisted that he had HIT MY CAR.  He got more and more irate, and I got more and more ticked off.  He said, “Yeah, I looked at my phone”.  Look, I am no angel.  I look at my phone at red lights, too.  And I do not know why he decided to step on the gas, just because he was looking at his phone, but for some reason he must have (or perhaps taken his foot off the brake, but he hit me pretty hard so it fe...