Monday, July 26, 2010

Just a Kid again


I got to be a kid again yesterday. . . . .if only for a little while. I threw away the trappings of my so called "life" and reveled in what only kids get to do . . .be carefree and curious. And while we may all want to do that every day- rarely do we get the opportunity.

Yesterday was different. When the adult activity was just too boring for the beautiful day that it was, I set off on an adventure of my own. An adventure of exploration.

As a kid I used to love to run through the empty fields by my house. I would pretend to be an explorer, would play house in abandoned sheds or find tree houses built by kids who had grown up and moved on.

While there were no abandoned sheds or tree houses- there were paths through the woods leading to a lake, to muddy vistas, to savannas full of butterfly bushes, raspberry vines, chickweed, sumac and other remembrances of my childhood.

My friend who went with me- forged a path through the fields, and sometimes, we lost sight of each other so high was the foliage. We happened upon children fishing, dogs frolicking in the water, and any number of birds singing on this beautiful day.It flashed me back to being that kid with mosquito bitten legs chasing after my friends all those many years ago.

When I returned home- I had a smile on my face and I didn't know why until this very moment. I got to be a kid again. A curious, adventurous, don't worry about the mud on my shoes, caution to the wind, kid.

Where do we lose that adventurous spirit along the way? Are we so caught up in being an adult that we forget the fun things in life? Does experience teach us that there are too many dangers around that next path, that next turn, and that it's easier to sit back and watch life go by?

I don't know the answers. But I do know for just a minute, I was a kid again. And that was the greatest feeling in the world!

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Age Old Debate



You know, there might be one difference that even the best of us cannot solve for in a relationship. We tackle the easy things like what side of the bed do you like to sleep on (for me- it's always the left), which way the toilet paper should hang (I'm an over girl)and whether you put water on your toothbrush before or after you add the toothpaste (I'm a little of each). But the one difference that seems insurmountable time and time again is the issue of a morning person versus a night person.

Now try as I might- I will never be a morning person. I swear I'm nocturnal. I do my best thinking after noon and have no problems staying up til the wee hours with boundless energy.

Yet relationship after relationship, I find myself with guys at the other end of the sleep spectrum. These beings are like foreigners to me, springing out of bed at crack of dawn (no- I am sure that some times it is not even dawn when they leap up).

I groan and roll over and am not heard of for at least a few more hours. Yet during the time I am at my best,in the dead of night, where are these morning creatures? Fading fast, and all but dead to the world. It is like their light has been shut off.

So I decided to try an experiment. Could I, the habitual nocturnal soul TURN into a morning person? I decided to give it a try for a month.

I set my alarm for 5am. The first day, in my stunned, disoriented state, I poured juice on my cereal and put milk in the coffee maker. Not a good start. And as the days wore on, I was tired. By 8pm- I was ready for bed. This little experiment was seriously cutting into my night life. Cripes! Under my usual schedule, I wasn't even thinking about where to eat until 8. And now each day I couldn't wait to hit the hay.

They say that once your body gets used to something it will do it on it's own. Well let me tell you- 5am wake ups are never going to be the norm for this girl.

With that effort as an abysmal failure, I asked the man in my life ,at the time, to do a similar experiment only in reverse. He needed to sleep in more and stay up later for one month.

Seriously, he just couldn't sleep in. He'd lay there in the morning, trying to make me happy, staring up at the ceiling, breathing in that way that only men do, just itching for me to wake up so he could get up. And at night? We'd go out to enjoy a dinner and I would always end up driving home as his eyes were closing and head bobbing before we even left the restaurant. He begged to be let out of the experiment long before the month was over.

So I posit that we are what we are. Creatures of the day or creatures of the night, living our best on one side or the other. How about you? Which side do you fall on? And while you're at it . . .how is your toilet paper on the roll?

Friday, July 9, 2010

The Best Laid Plans


Are you one of those people where things you plan, never turn out quite the way you imagined them? Well, I am.

Take for example a simple canoe trip I planned down the Hillsborough River in Tampa. My friend told me how beautiful it was and since I love the tranquility of canoeing, I reserved a canoe.

As I pulled up to the ramshackle lean to that housed the canoe rental place, I was reminded of the canoe trips I used to take back when I was a student and I couldn't wait until I was on the water again, paddling downstream.

On the other hand, my canoeing partner was there only because I asked him to be. He didn't care for the water, hated the outdoors, and if the truth be told, couldn't swim.

"No problem", said the canoe guy who was shoving us into the water in the middle of a swamp. "You're going to want to stay in the canoe anyway."

"Why's that?", I asked naively.

"It's alligator mating season, ma'am. Gators are everywhere. Shouldn't be a problem if you stay in your canoe", said he.

Stay in my canoe. Stay in my canoe. It was like a mantra as we floated down the river. Hard to relax when at every turn, there were alligators sunning themselves on logs, laying in the shallows and swimming in the river. They looked a bit like tires in the water as all you could see were their eyes as they paddled silently.

Now for this Chicago girl, being this close up to alligators that weren't in a cage, seemed a bit insane. After all, this was no Disney ride where if something went wrong, a man in a park ranger uniform was going to be there to "stop the ride" and let you get off. Nope. This was real life. A 3 hour survival course and we were soon to be put to the test.

Around the next corner was a submerged log and within minutes we were somehow stuck on top of it. On the shore around us, alligators were sunning themselves but keeping one eye on us as well. Funny that there were no other canoers on this day. Maybe they knew something we didn't.

My canoeing partner thought the best way to get off the log was to rock the canoe. A word of advice? That is never the right thing to do and within a nano second we were in the water eyeball to eyeball with the alligators.

My biggest issue wasn't my fear of losing a limb (although it was right up there)- no it was that my friend had fallen out of the canoe, and had sunk to the bottom of the river like a stone. In seconds, he came up from the bottom shrieking like a baby and then sank again and I was trying to calm down the situation lest the alligators thought there was something (or someone as the case may be) in distress and come over to investigate.

Let's stop here to review. We are 20 minutes into a 3 hour canoe trip, have lost all of our belongings (including the canoe and almost my friend) in the river and alligators are everywhere. I kept wondering where was the fun in all of this?

And it wasn't until we beached our canoe at the end of the trip (yes we were able to get the canoe, empty it of water, and start anew all without adverse alligator intervention) and stumbled toward the canoe rental guy that I realized the absurdity of it all.

He took one look at us and said, "Go into the water, did ya?"

I caught a glimpse of myself in his sunglasses- makeup streaked all over my face, sunburned arms (we lost the sunscreen in the river), hair sticking up all over, river dirt on my legs and I started to laugh.

"Yeah. We went into the water."

But what he didn't know, was that I was thinking about the more important thing. The thing that had me laughing in relief. The thing I still think about today, every time I step into a canoe.

What is that, you ask? Simple. It wasn't that we went into the water. No. It was that we came out of the water. Now that was the big thing of the day!

Saturday, July 3, 2010

You had me at hello . . .


Have you ever thought about all the time we've spent in our lives kissing?

We could probably spell it before we really knew what it was, from taunting children singing their song, "Carol and Eric, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!". (wonder where little Eric is these days? Hmmmm. . .) Or that first foolish peck of an adolescent boy fumbling to do what he thought he ought to do, but not really knowing how to do it. Or the memory of the safety that a parent's kiss brought before tucking you in for the night. Kissing is a way to connect, to show affection, to love.

Today, however, there seems to be a swell toward greeting everyone with a kiss. I don't know about you but I still feel awkward about this. After all, my family was not a family of demonstration. Not like the family that grew up a few doors down from me where even we kids were greeted with a big smooch and hug. No, my family was reserved, with a hug being the most that we would do in the most formal of occasions.

So as times have evolved, I find myself kissing all kinds of people these days- friends, co-workers who I see frequently and infrequently, and even strangers who are introduced to me. Odd, isn't it? One of the most intimate gestures reduced to a peck on the cheek, or at least waving your face in that direction and moving on to the next person?

I seem to have perfected my own "signature move". I like to call it the "grip and smooch". Perfect for business situations, I put out my hand for a shake and then as the person draws me in, I bend my arm creating a slight gap between the kisser and me. The kiss usually ends up deflecting into air just above the person's right ear which suits me fine.

I watch at large meetings for the notorious kissers. You know the ones. Tons of cologne if a man, tons of makeup if a woman. The telltale signs are there on both sides- the lipstick smear on a man's shirt or jacket shoulder or in my case- I seem to smell like various men's cologne all day.

The worst of it, though, is the sweaty guy. Every office has one. He sweats constantly and is always wiping his brow. It's like clockwork that this guy sees me at a meeting and then swoops in for the smooch. I slide right off his face and then spend the next ten minutes hoping to find a tissue with which to wipe my face. I'm all for going with the flow- but does anyone else find this a little gross?

And it's a "Germ o Rama". Do you think it's coincidence that we all come back from large conferences sick at the same time? Heck no! We've been passing germs on a first name basis through all this darn kissing!

And then don't get me started on the protocol for International kissing (and I'm not talking French!) Is it a double kiss? Single kiss? Both sides? Three sides? I am quite sure I am going to get a black eye one of these days as I will stop in the middle of the greeting sure that it is over, only to have the person return for some part of my face that hasn't been kissed and catch me in the eye with his chin! Urrgh!

I think it's a trend to stay and maybe I am the only one who finds it a little much. I long for the days when a mere handshake would do in a business situation.

But for now, since this trend seems here to stay, I am going to keep perfecting my signature move and try to stay away from that sweaty guy. But if you are reading this and notice the next time we greet that my kiss on the check is more like a fly by your right ear . . . .you'll know you've just witnessed the old "grip and smooch". Pretty effective, eh?

Unconditional Love



Today was my day to work at a local animal shelter. It's been 9 years since I first walked into those doors to find myself a feline companion. And each day I walk into the shelter, I am always amazed by the unconditional love that those animals have for us, the humans, who oftentimes, mistreat them horribly.

People ask me if volunteering there makes me sad. "Sad?", I ask. "Not at all", for I know they are going to go to good homes. What makes me sad, however, are some of the "back stories" of these animals. And those kill me.

Take, for example, the two cats who were left at the front door of the shelter (illegal, so you know) in a sealed plastic box in the Winter. No food, no water, no air and temperatures in the 20's. By the time we arrived to open the shelter in the morning- the two were near death, sweaty from trying to breathe and covered in urine. But most of all, they were scared. Great human thinking there.

Or how about the family dog that was gotten as a puppy and now that the couple had divorced, neither side wanted the 12 year old animal? Through no fault of the dog- he was homeless and at 12, the likelihood of that dog getting adopted in his later years were slim. Again. Great human thinking.

Or how about the animals that are given up because people are moving? I don't know about you- but I don't think there is a state in the US that doesn't allow for dogs or cats, but "moving" is the number one reason people give up their pets. Sure, I'm being facetious- I know moving means into a non pet friendly environment. But if pets were truly a part of a family- people wouldn't move to places that don't allow them.

Want to know what does make me sad? Walking through the kennels. I am saddened by the looks on the animal's faces. You can see hopefulness and expectation in their eyes. Their tails wag, their ears perk up, for they are all looking for a familiar smell, a touch or a look, as these animals have no idea why they are here or what they did to get there. All they want is to go home, to sleep in their own bed, or to crawl into the one that they were sometimes allowed into. Yet each time the door is opened, the expectation is replaced by the realization of the home they once knew is gone forever. And the longer the animal has been there, the less interested they are when the door opens, to the point that some don't even rise to their feet any more.

So why volunteer? The real joy is when an animal gets to go to its new, forever home. When kids and adults alike have that glow in their eyes of a perfect match. When tails are wagging, hands are petting and each is imagining just what life might be like together. It's a magical moment and it happens day after day in shelters around the country. Once abandoned pets are adopted by people who have the time and the intelligence to be good owners. Ones who lavish their pets with love and who in return receive that perfect, unconditional love that only a pet can bring.

And as the door closes behind them to start their new life together, the kennel is readied, for the next abandoned or stray animal is about to arrive. And so, it all begins all over again.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

In my Mother's Mirror


On my last visit home to my parent's house, as I bounded down the stairs the way I did for all the years I lived there, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. And I thought of all the things that mirror had seen during my life in that house.

That mirror became the inspiration for this blog as "From the Looking Glass" is a blog about my view on things that intersect my life each and every day. Just like that mirror that saw me basically grow up and reflected those years back to me, so is this blog a reflection of things around me.

That mirror was a focal point. It was where I knew I was growing taller as I couldn't see me in it originally unless I climbed up a stair or two, or my dad gave me a "lift up". And then one day I could stand on the floor and see my reflection.

It was the mirror that I would practice my singing in front of to see how I looked belting out a Carole King song for my junior high talent competition.

It was the mirror that watched me practice lines for a play- going over and over the same scene until it was perfected.

It was the mirror that I would check my makeup in as I dashed out the front door for a date.

And it was the last thing I saw as I pulled the door shut and moved into my own apartment.

Many years have passed since I lived in that house, but that mirror is still there. I again wish it was animate and could share the stories of the lives in that house with me.

But it is enough for me to know that it reflects back a life of love, of family and friends, and of happiness and laughter. And that's just what this blog is about.

Happy or sad . . it's your choice

A friend told me the other night that I might be "too happy". I thought about this for a moment and then wondered, can someone really be too happy? Or was it just the chasm between the way that he looks at the world and the way I look at the world that makes me appear to be the happier of us two?

Life gives us choices each and every day. I firmly believe that I can be happy. Or I can be sad. It really takes no more energy to be one over the other so I choose happy. I think my friend chooses sad. And maybe that's why we're friends as between the two of us the world balances, if only for one second.

This happy thing was a bit of a puzzle for me. I remember back in junior high school that my best friend was really the more popular of the two of us and I couldn't figure out why. So I watched her. And it was then that I noticed that unlike me, who walked down the halls with eyes downcast- she said hi to everyone, smiled, and that her smile just lit up her face.

"That's it?" I wondered. "Could I walk down the same hall and smile and have people respond to me?" I couldn't wait to try it out. So on the next break, I walked from my locker to my next class smiling and greeting friends and acquaintances alike. And from that moment on, I was hooked! Happy is the way to be! People responded to me just the way they did to my friend.

And if you don't believe me- try it yourself. I was in the grocery store line the other day and the cashier and bagger were lamenting the world as they passed the groceries down the line. When I got to the front, I smiled and said, "Hi, Jason" (the name tag always helps here!) He looked up startled said hi back as did the bagger. His entire demeanor changed when he actually smiled back. Yes- smiles can be contagious! Imagine a world where people smiled instead of frowned.

Now before you go all crazy like my second grade teacher who put those darn smiley face stickers on everything (hey- it was the 70's ya know!) happiness is not just a smile but an inner feeling of self. But it can all start with that simple simile.

Too happy? I doubt it. As I said, we have a choice in this world and I choose happy. How about you? What face did you put on to the world today?