Dreams I'll never see

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I read a lot of magazines. Just the other day, I pulled seven -- SEVEN! -- from the mailbox. Okay, some of those were Jim's, but still. I told Jim the mailman surely loves coming to our house because we're keeping him in a job. (Keeping the publishers in a job, too, I suppose.)

Of all the tomes to which I subscribe, O the Oprah Magazine and MORE are the two that fascinate me most each month because they're filled with stories of women who have firmly grabbed hold of life with two manicured fists and shaped fulfilling careers of which they're passionate and well paid. Usually after an epiphany of some sort. Often after an epiphany had upon reading an article in that very same magazine.

I don't have epiphanies upon reading the articles. And I want one. Desperately. I want to come across words that take my breath away, make me reconsider all the trappings keeping me from reaching my fullest potential, lead me to pull out all the money from my 401K and go whole-hog after what I truly want to make of my life, what I truly am meant to be, what will truly make me shine and rock and roll. Roll in the dough, preferably, as all those featured seem to magically do upon acting on their epiphanies.

But, like I said, I've yet to have an epiphany. I get sparks of motivation, flashes of creativity, glimmers of what could be upon reading the articles. Then I just get frustrated because it never seems to move beyond that, move ME beyond that. Why can't I be one of those who see the light, the secret to self-actualization and pursuit of one's passion hidden deep within the pages of O and MORE?

Why can't I be like the stay-at-home mom who, mulling over a magazine article as she drove along the Pacific highway on an errand, became mesmerized by the kiteboarders in the water, pulled over to ask them about the new-to-her activity, had an epiphany -- WHAM! -- and threw caution to the wind, started her own company providing high-priced, world-wide travel packages to well-to-do folks with a penchant for action and adventure.

Or why can't I be like the woman who, laid off from her job, stared out at the Kansas prairie on which she lived and instead of lamenting the piles of tumbleweeds collecting in her front yard, had an epiphany -- WHAM! -- put those tumbleweeds up for sale on Craigslist ... and soon became the ultimate tumbleweed provider for Western-themed galas, movies, and more. She now makes a living -- an admirable living! -- off the cuss she wants cleared from her yard?

I have a lot of cuss in my yard I'd like cleared. Mostly pine needles, but there may be an untapped market for them. I have even more cuss in my mind that I'd like cleared ... preferably by an epiphany. Directly related to an article in one of the many magazines to which I subscribe.

Maybe I'm trying to force an epiphany. Maybe I'm hoping for too much. Maybe I'm searching too hard within magazine pages.

Maybe I should just stop reading the cuss magazines.

Photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What is your favorite magazine to read, in print or online?

Valentine's Day and other overhyped happenings

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Valentine's Day is Monday, which makes this the ultimate weekend of love. Or so we've been made to believe. I'm usually not cynical about much -- I prefer to find the magical in even the mundane -- but Valentine's Day is one of those happenings that has been overhyped and underperforming for years, so it's hard to get all mushy-gushy, misty-eyed and magical about it.

Jim and I have never really made a big deal out of Valentine's Day. Mostly because it seems so forced, so obligatory ... and so packed at restaurants on the big day. We mark it in small ways, nothing huge.

But my daughters want (and deserve) the magical. They want (and deserve) the mushy-gushy. Yet they've spent plenty of Valentine's Days down in the dumps because they're single. Or down in the dumps because they're NOT single and their truly beloved isn't being as lover-ly as he was expected to be.

Bottom line is that Valentine's Day never lives up to the hype. For me or for those I love. So I wish the hype would just go away, disappear from our collective conscience and let love and other things fall where they may.

I don't mean to take only poor Cupid to task, though, for Valentine's Day is far from the only overhyped happening in my experience. Here are a few more:

Lisa's list of things that fall short of their hype

1. Rocky Horror Picture Show ... oh, and Citizen Kane

2. High-school proms and homecomings

3. Turning 30

4. For that matter, turning 16, 18, and 21

5. New Year's Eve

6. Disneyworld

7. Calgon baths

8. Champagne

9. Godiva chocolates

I think the root of the disappointment isn't the happening in itself, it's the expectations surrounding it. So I'm learning to lower my expectations. Better yet, I'm working to have no expectations at all.

My only expectation now is this: That limited expectations just might lead to unexpected mushy-gushy, misty-eyed and magical moments all year long.

If not for myself, then at least for my daughters.

Today's question:

What have you found falls miserably short of its hype?

Is that your final question?

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The other day, Jim and I were discussing what happens after death, most importantly, what we'll learn upon passing through the pearly gates and gaining truth and knowledge about anything and everything. (Yeah, we're weird that way.)

One question at the top of Jim's list for which he wants answers relates to the Kennedy assassination and the truth of how many gunmen really were involved. Hmm, that sounds like a reasonable wonder ... I suppose. If I were to gain knowledge about anything related to JFK, I'd be more interested in finding out what the deal was with Marilyn. But that's certainly not at the top of my list. And I do have a list.

Here are a few of the questions I'd really like answered -- truthfully, honestly, fully:

  • Why do birds on a wire space themselves perfectly? And how do they know the correct spacing?
  • What was the unequivocal meaning of the LOST finale?
  • How do monarch butterflies know when and where to migrate? Or salmon know how far upstream to swim? And geese know which goose should be leader of the V?
  • What's the story on Jesus' teen years? Was he angsty? Did he mouth off to his parents? Was he bummed about the task facing him in adulthood?
  • If two socks go into the dryer but only one comes out, where has the other gone? (And don't tell me the dryer vent hose because I've looked.)
  • Why does it take water longer to boil when watched?
  • Is there really such a thing as a soul mate? And are we in trouble and deemed lazy if we didn't continue the search until we connected with him or her? If, that is, we didn't connect correctly?
  • Related: Is it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
  • Where do bad folks go when they die, if they really don't go to heaven where the angels fly? Do they go to a lake of fire and fry? And will we see them again on the Fourth of July?
  • In the same vein, where have all the flowers gone? And, more importantly, who are you? Who, who? Who, who? I really wanna know.
  • Is it true that elephants remember everyone they've met? Oh, and are they embarrassed that humans think they're scared of mice?
  • Come to think of it, do animals get embarrassed?
  • If you're chosen to be a contestant on Minute To Win It, do they ask you if you're tone deaf, just to ensure they're not setting you up for failure by giving you the Spoon Tune challenge?

Oh, my. So, so many questions, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I look forward to one day learning all the answers to all my questions.

Once I propose my list to the Keeper of All Knowledge, though, I have a sneaky feeling his/her question to me will be, "Why are you such a dumbcuss making light of such things?"

In that case, I'll just shrug my shoulders and say, "I dunno. You tell me!"

Photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What question(s) would you like answered?

The Saturday Post: Time flies edition

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Believe it or not, January will soon come to a close. Already. Time does indeed fly.

This video beautifully shows the passage of time. One year to be exact. In less than 90 seconds. Yet it's not frenetic and harried. It's surprisingly peaceful and relaxing. And I just love the little kids in the snow at the end.

Today's question:

If you were magically given a full BONUS day this coming week to do with whatever you choose, what would you do with your day?

Ring of ire

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Jim and I were married very young. In fact, I was so young, my dad had to sign my life away for me in order for us to obtain a marriage license.

Being married so young means I missed out on learning many of the things young single women learn early on in adulthood. One of those things, a skill I've noticed of late I'm seriously lacking, is the ability to reflexively scan the left hand of those of the opposite sex immediately upon meeting them to see if there's a wedding ring.

I didn't learn to do that. I've never had reason to do it, never did it enough -- ever, actually -- for it to become a conscious or unconscious part of my getting-to-know-you ritual upon meeting someone new. Yes, it's lately become all too clear to me that if I were a dog, I'd surely be a lonely one as the whole sniffing out of potential mates simply and surely is not a part of my makeup.

And why should it be? I have Jim ... have for pert near 30 years ... so there's no reason for me to scan the hands of men.

But I've found in the last few weeks that my lack of ring-searching ability is a detriment -- especially when it comes to sniffing out potential mates for my single daughters. (Shh...don't tell them; they don't know I do that.)

Just last week a charming young man, part of the team that cleaned my chimney, spent enough time in my home and enough time making interesting small talk with me that afterwards I thought, "Hmmm...that's the kind of kid I would sure be happy to have as a son-in-law."

When I told Jim about him, he asked me if the young man was married.

"How the heck am I supposed to know?" I replied indignantly. "I'm not so desperate for a decent mate for my daughters stupid as to come out and ask such a thing."

"Well, was he wearing a ring?" Jim asked, as if he's so cussing smart.

Oh ... a ring. I never looked. Honestly, it never even crossed my mind to look.

It never crosses my mind to look at the left hands of women, either. Which wouldn't normally be an issue because, like I said, I am married ... and straight. But Jim and I have been trying to figure out if one particular couple at church -- a couple we've been loosely acquainted with for years, a couple about our same age, who have been married about as long we have and have kids near the same age as ours -- are, sadly, separated, possibly getting a divorce. They're never seen together anymore, and Jim insists there's a problem; I insist the husband likely just works on Sundays and can't make it to church.

"Is she still wearing her wedding ring?" he asked yesterday, again playing the smart guy.

We both spied out of the corner of our eyes while singing. Yes, she's still wearing her ring.

After getting no clear answer on the divorce question, Jim and I returned whole hog to the singing and praising and all those other things you do at church. Until he leaned over and nudged me.

"Hey, she's got a ring on her finger," he whispered, nodding toward the young woman in front of us, a gal we've known for some time, who was sitting mighty close to her new beau.

"That doesn't mean anything. People wear rings on that finger all the time," I whispered back.

He shrugged like a smartcuss who has a secret.

I leaned over and whispered quite forcefully, "That's why it's called <ahem> a ring finger."

Ha! Now who's the smarty pants?

I'm just crossing my fingers now, hoping that next time we see her dad he doesn't announce that his little girl is engaged. If he does, I'm pretty sure Jim's sure-to-follow smirk will make me want to smack him.

Or take the ring off my ring finger and throw it at him.

On second thought, maybe I won't throw my ring at him. For with an empty ring finger, I may be immediately dubbed a single woman by those quick-on-the-draw folks who check for such things.

And Lord knows I would completely cuss at being a single woman ... because I'm so darn handicapped at sniffing out potential mates.

Photo: follmann/stock.xchng

Today's question:

How many rings do you typically wear on an average day?

Battling my personal lemons

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I keep seeing featured in the JCPenney ad the red loveseat Jim and I bought just after moving into our house. Because we have so many stairs, we needed a spot for his mom to sleep on the main level when she visited, and the loveseat was the perfect solution because it pulled out to a single bed but would look fine the rest of the time as a loveseat in the study.

Well, each time I see it in the ad I cringe because that loveseat is The. Most. Uncomfortable. Piece. Of. Furniture. Ever. At least in the "loveseat" configuration. (I've never slept on it as a bed; the few who have haven't complained).

Unfortunately that little loveseat expenditure is not the only unwise purchase we've ever made. Here are a few others:

Boxed gnocchi. One of my goals this year is to try out more recipes instead of relying on old standbys. What I've learned so far: boxed gnocchi = yucky. Jim agrees.

Our hot tub. We bought a hot tub at our old house and the girls used it more than we did. We left it when we sold our house because our new house has one. Jim's never been in it; I've only been in it once ... when I fell in it by accident. We clean it, fill it, keep it chemical-ed up -- we just never use it.

Cheri, starring Michelle Pfeiffer. This one's not technically a purchase as it was a Netflix movie rental, so it didn't really cost us any money. But it did cost us time -- and it was the biggest waste of our time ever.

My Reebok EasyTone walking shoes. Both my doctor and physical therapist call them a "gimmick" -- and attribute a portion of my current disc trouble to them.

Black & Decker appliances. Toasters, food processors, mixers, coffee pots. Many throughout the years. None worked correctly or for very long. Why did it take me years -- and lots of money -- to realize B&D may be good at making tools but they stink at small appliances?

Smooth-Away. Yeah, an infomercial sucked me in. I bought FOUR -- one for each of the girls and myself. (Well ... they were BOGO, for heaven's sake!). Never again.

Squiggles. I thought I'd amaze Bubby with the magical squirmy thing. I couldn't get it to squirm or squiggle ... but Bubby did enjoy dragging it around on its string as if it were a trained caterpillar.

Keurig 'My K-Cup' insert. Megan and Preston kindly bought us a Keurig for Christmas. We drink a lot of coffee and thought the insert would be nice for using our own coffee instead of the K-Cups. Um, no. We'll stick with the K-cups. (It does work well, though, for using a tea bag to brew a single cup of tea.)

Photo: flickr

Today's question:

What is on your list of unwise purchases?