February 17, 2010 · 10:35 pm

A welcome stranger

Call it karma, fate or divine intervention –  no matter the name, someone is really making things happen.

The kids and I said good-bye to our dear Bridget, a 9-year-old Newfoundland, in July. Arthritis and finally cancer had made our happy pet live a life filled with pain and we couldn’t watch her suffer.

Max, the Lab/Border Collie mix that grew up with Bridget, had a difficult time adjusting. He’s become my shadow, never leaving my side when I am at home. He begs for food more, and is more destructive when we are gone (I’ll be replacing my back door this spring).

I’d been thinking of getting him – more than us – another dog, but what? We’re not “little dog” people, but are we really ready for another big dog? What if we were to skip the “giant” breeds and go to “large,” like Labs or Shepards?

Then there are all those other issues: Max now gets to ride with us when we go away for the weekend, and with two dogs that wouldn’t be possible; Max has started enjoying being “the only child” and getting spoiled with the extra attention; and there’s always the financial issue, I’m saving close to $20 each month on dog food alone.

Then karma/fate/God intervened.

A neighbor stopped by my house Monday night wondering if I’d lost a big dog. As I was holding Max back, I told him that no, we no longer had anyone other than Max. He proceeded to tell me a large dog, “I mean Great Dane big!”, had showed up at his house earlier that day and wouldn’t leave.

This neighbor and his wife and young son live with his parents and another sibling in a small house around the corner. They already have three small dogs, “and we really can’t take in another dog – and this one’s too big for me to know what to do with.”

Without thinking, I said, “Go get him.”

As I watched him walking the dog to my house, my eyes began to well up. I called the kids into the kitchen so they could see.

My neighbor was bringing us a young Newfoundland.

I was surprised at the dog’s appearance. It was well-groomed, happy, healthy and had a collar. Someone was missing this dog.

I set about making phone calls – the sheriff’s office, the nearby veterinarian, neighbors – and e-mailed a friend on the Cedar Valley Humane Society’s board. The next morning, complete with migraine, I made a few more calls. I talked to someone at the Humane Society who told me that yes, they did have a lost dog report that matched the animal in my home.

I called both the cell and home  numbers and at 4:30 that afternoon I got the call. The owner, in tears, told me she never thought she’d see her dog again. About an hour later she and her husband were there to pick up the Newfoundland now known as “Bear.”

I think we’re ready now to welcome another giant breed into our home. My son, when he first saw Bear, said to me, “What are the odds that another Newfoundland would find us in Coggon?”

What are the odds, indeed.

This weekend we meet a female Newfie whose family moved to the city and can’t keep her. She and Max will ultimately decide whether this is going to be a transition that will work.

I’m really hoping it does.

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February 10, 2010 · 9:19 pm

Mars and Venus collide yet again

As if we needed further proof, I was hit with yet another sign that men and women really do come from different planets.

I got a phone call Monday from a friend — a male friend — who wanted some advice. He and I are both single and have recently decided to kind of “help each other out” when it comes to finding someone (we’re a mess when it comes to dating each other, but are finding out that the friend thing really does work for us).

This friend had met a woman and went out on a date on Sunday, then met for lunch or some such thing Monday. During the lunch this woman apparently threw up some pretty strong “red flags” which made my friend decide he’s not interested in pursuing the relationship any longer.

He initially asked my opinion on one of the red flags, and I agreed with his decision. But the advice came to be about an invitation to the woman’s birthday celebration with friends, to which he was invited. He said he planned to go, then let her down easy.

I said, “Bad idea.”

His thought was that he didn’t want to ruin her birthday and would go and “be nice.” My thoughts were that birthdays were special days and, since all of her friends would be there, he would be kind of “meeting the family” and implying that he was happy to share her special day with her.

He wasn’t convinced – not nearly as much as he’s convinced my take on relationships can sometimes be neurotic and angst-ridden.

So, without his knowledge, I conducted a short poll among my female friends. What advice would they give? I sent an e-mail out to 25 friends of all ages, walks of life, marital status, etc. Of the 12 responses I got back ALL of them were against his going to the party.

Then I told him of the poll and emailed him a copy of the answers – with everyone’s name removed. His response? “Thanks for the poll. I get the message!”

It’s just another insight, really, in why relationships can be so difficult – his thoughts on the party were valid and understandable, but as women, we knew how we would interpret his presence. And the two opinions had completely opposite outcomes.

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February 1, 2010 · 1:35 am

Women really ARE hard to understand

For years I’ve listened to men joke about how difficult women are to understand. No we’re not, I’d think. All you have to do is pay attention.

Today, I started to see the light.

I’ve blogged about this before, on my Losing It blog: reality slapped me in the face this week and I’ve discovered/realized that I’ve not just gained “a little bit of weight.” I’ve officially gained back half of the 115 pounds I lost with my divorce. Ugh.

I was talking to my mother about it earlier today, and I told her I was a little upset with her for not having mentioned it to me. “Could you have at least said, ‘Hey …?'”

And then it hit me. Would I have really wanted my mom, or my best friend, or my sister, or anyone to tell me, “Hey, you should really think about losing some weight.”

I’m not sure.

On the one hand, it would have been nice to have someone agree with me when I said, “Wow. I can’t believe I’m gaining so much weight,” rather than say things like, “No, you look fine,” or “Really? You don’t look like you’ve gained weight.”

But is that something we really want to hear? We tell ourselves that yes, we would want our mothers or best friends to let us know, but when it really comes down to it, do we? How would I react if I was sitting at dinner with my best friends and, when the waiter took our order, my friends looked at me and said, “Do you really think you should get the chimichanga? I’m thinking the chicken fajitas would be better – without the tortilla.”

To say I wouldn’t react very well is a bit of an understatement.

So, dear guys and men, maybe you do indeed have a point. Maybe we really are a little hard to understand.

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January 28, 2010 · 12:42 am

Lessons for the kids as they prepare to leave

In less than six months, I’ll be sending the 17-year-old Man/Boy out into the real world. His sister, just three years younger, will be leaving in what will seem like very short order.

I wonder how well prepared they will be.

Sure, they’re learning financial responsibility (“Just ask Mom, she’ll get it.”) and how to care for a household (“Mom! I need clean jeans!”), but just how ready will they really be?

With that in mind, I thought I’d put together a guide for some of the really, truly important things they will need to know when I’m not there.

1. Ice: Don’t go out and buy it unless you’re having a picnic or a lot of people over. For everyday use – and you may want to clip this recipe – just follow these easy-to-understand instructions: a) Empty ice trays into ice basin in freezer and let thaw; b) fill empty trays with cold water; c) carefully place filled trays into freezer without spilling into the newly-filled ice basin. Let sit for 3-5 hours. Repeat.

2. Toilet paper: While it does work just fine if you leave the new roll on the counter next to the sink. you run the risk of the toilet paper falling into the sink and getting wet, splashing or spitting on it when you’re brushing your teeth or dropping it onto the floor. Putting it on the spindle is easy: a) Grab the spindle and push one end to the other on the spring; b) Remove spindle and take old roll from it; c) Put new roll on spindle (I personally prefer that the toilet paper come over the top of the roll, but once you’re in your own place it’s really up to you); d) Replace spindle the same way you removed it.

3. Laundry. You know there are things you dry and things you hang up. Don’t wash them together. On second thought, go ahead. It will serve you right if you have to sort wet clothes and put some in the dryer and some in a basket to be hung up. That’s what you made me do since you learned how to turn on the washing machine.

4. Dishes. If you’re lucky enough to get a dishwasher, great! Just remember to rinse the dishes before putting them through the cycle. That is, unless you like tasting dried-on cheese that tastes like soap.

5. Garbage. When you’re making macaroni and cheese or warming up a can of Spaghetti-O’s, throw away or recycle the packaging. Don’t leave it on the counter – I won’t be there to clean it up.

6. Call your mother. She worries about you.

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December 31, 2009 · 6:17 pm

On to 2010

Every year I make a list of things I resolve to complete during the next 12 months. I write them down, fold them up and put them in an envelope, then store them away until the end of December, when I pull them out to see how many I’ve actually accomplished.

This year I’m making it a little more public. If I can’t do a great job of holding myself accountable to my resolutions, then maybe anyone reading this can help me along.

1. Yeah, yeah, the weight loss thing. Every year it’s the same thing, and every year it’s the same result. This time I have a goal in mind: I want to drop at least one size before my son’s high school graduation in May. Notice there are no pound restrictions attached? I don’t care what I weigh, just what I feel comfortable in.

2. Do something new and different each month. I’m not thinking of bungee jumping or riding a camel bareback, but things that take me out of my comfort level, just for a bit. Like, when meeting a friend for a drink going on into the bar and waiting alone. Going to a movie alone. Buy a stranger a cup of coffee. Push the personal development just a little.

3. Do a “vegetarian day” one day each week. Take the day to cleanse out all the fats and toxins absorbed by meat.

4.  Enjoy the kids’ company. I was once cajoled for spending too much time with my kids and not enough time on me, but you know what? My time with the kids is limited. I’ve got one graduating this year and the other in three years – and then I’ll have so much time with myself I won’t know what to do.

5. Breathe. Sometimes — a lot of times — I get so caught up in the busy-ness of life that I forget to breathe. I need to remember to do that more often.

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November 21, 2009 · 3:21 pm

Ken Ober, Adam Sandler and me

Connie, Carla and me standing behind Ken Ober in 1989.

As editor of a college newspaper, you work hard, learn a lot about the industry (as it was at the time) and discover what it’s like to be accountable to your reading public.

You also get to have a little fun.

I was editor of the Northwest Missourian at Northwest Missouri State University for two consecutive years. During those two years the college brought in several celebrities – speakers, bands, comedians – and in many cases I was the one who would show them around campus. I met the likes of Brit Hume (ABC White House correspondent at the time) and members of the Hooters and Ramones.

None was quite as memorable, though, as the day the crew from MTV’s “Remote Control” came to campus.

It was 1989 and Ken Ober, Colin Quinn and a still relatively unknown Adam Sandler brought their game show – kind of a laid back and funny version of “Jeopardy” in which contestants sat in recliners and controlled the board with a remote – to campus. There was an autograph session after the show and my roommates Connie and Carla and I got our picture taken with Ken Ober.

After the autographs my chief photographer Joann and I got to take the three guys out and introduce them to Maryville. Ken found a group of guys he wanted to play pool with and Colin was the life of the party darned near everywhere we went.

Adam, Joann and I sat down to have a drink and Joann and I started talking about our living arrangements: she was a 40-something mother of three daughters, wife of the ROTC instructor who went back to college. Their oldest daughter was in college and they had a room/suite to rent, so they offered it to me and I took it for my last semester.

Adam asked to see it so we got into Joann’s car and drove to the house. Joann’s husband Jerry was there and we all poured a drink then showed Adam around the house.

When we all got to my suite, he looked inside, yelled, “Waterbed!” and ran and started jumping on the bed.

It’s a story I continue to tell 20 years later, and one that became more relevant this week. Ken Ober, the host of the game show who would go on to become a comedic writer for various television shows, died at the age of 52 last weekend. His death hit the social media sites and was initially thought to be a hoax until family members confirmed it.

Godspeed, Ken. Thanks for being part of a great story in my life.

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November 16, 2009 · 8:39 pm

Being tall is not a disease

I’ve recently made a wardrobe change, one that didn’t require moving summer clothes to storage and bringing out the sweaters or shopping in angst while my waist started moving the wrong way.

I started wearing heels.

To any other woman, you might say, “So what?” But in my bare feet I stand just a smidge under six feet. Trust me — heels are a big deal.

My attitude about my height has ebbed and flowed with the tide: sometimes I think it’s absolutely awesome, other times it’s the worst thing in the world. I’ve joked about my “freakish tall-ness” so much that one friend has ever an elbow ready to jab me in the ribs (well, just below the ribs — she’s only 5’6″).

I love the way heels make a woman look, filled with confidence and strength. So why can’t I wear them?

I couldn’t find an answer. So, embracing my “freakish tall-ness” I bought my first pair of three-inch heels. And love them.

I’m not the only one with issues about everyone else’s issues over height. I found this great column on www.cnn.com earlier today.

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November 11, 2009 · 7:30 pm

Keeping its value

quartersEvery now and again something will stand out to me and create in my mind a burst of philosophical thought. Sometimes I act on it — use it to teach myself or my kids something — but most times it just disappears and never resurfaces.

 Today I had one of those thoughts.

I’ve just recovered from a bout of H1N1, which isn’t important other than while I was sick the last thing I wanted to drink was dark soda. Also not necessarily an issue here, except that my favorite drink in the world is Diet Coke. I’ve been healthy for three weeks now but dark soda still doesn’t hold much appeal, so when I get tired of water I go to the vending machines and get a can of Diet Sierra Mist.

My Diet Coke comes in a $1 20-ounce bottle; the Diet Sierra Mist comes in a 50-cent can. (We’re getting to the point, I promise.)

Today I took my dollar bill back to the vending area, bought my can of soda and brought the change back with me, two not-so-shiny quarters.

Just a bit ago I happened to glance over at the quarters, still sitting on my desk, and saw the top quarter was dingy, dirty, banged up and looking pretty worn. The ridges on the rim had been stripped, and Ol’ George was beginning to show his age.

Then I saw the date on the quarter: 1967. The same year I was born.

Am I looking that rough and worn? When people look at me, do they see someone who looks like she’s seen her fair share of tough times?

Then I had another thought: That quarter is still a quarter. It may look a little less shiny than the one it was sitting next to, but it’s no less valuable. Without that dingy quarter, the shiny one is nearly useless; together I could get another can of soda, a small bag of pretzels or an hour in a downtown parking space.

Sometimes I think we do the same thing to people we know, and those we don’t. We look only at the surface and dismiss them as being too old, too worn, too dingy. We forget the value we all still hold.

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October 13, 2009 · 2:38 pm

My failure as a mother

Toilet_Paper_RollI’m afraid I’ve failed my son.

He has always held such promise: he was able to recite the alphabet at 18 months, wrote some of the letters (OK, just the linear I, H, E, F and T, capitals only) when he was two and a half, was reading before he entered kindergarten.

In elementary school he tested years beyond his age. He learned to ride a bicycle the day his father started to teach him, and was always a caring young man when it came to family.

As a teenager he wasn’t interested in driving until just this past summer, before his senior year. He’s taught himself to play guitar and keeps a watchful eye on his gas tank.

I’m so very proud of all of these accomplishments. He is truly a wonderful young man.

Still, I know in the years to come I will get a tearful telephone call from some as-yet-unidentified young woman, blaming me for the one thing I was not able to teach him to do.

He doesn’t know how to change the roll of toilet paper.

I’ve tried everything, even the simple little rods that sit in holders as opposed to the spring-loaded sticks most people use. When he was younger I tried to make a game of it, to see who could do it the fastest. Nothing worked.

There must be some internal switch I failed to activate. This is the same young man who can wipe out an entire army of aliens in any Halo game, survive zombie attacks while eating a sub sandwich or mow my entire yard in 45 minutes — a task that takes me almost two hours — and yet can’t seem to put a small roll of paper on the holder. At this point I wouldn’t even mind if he loaded it upside down, just so he loaded it.

I’m so sorry, nameless future daughter-in-law — I tried. I really did.

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October 8, 2009 · 4:43 pm

It’s not that easy

There seems to be an uprising in urgency among men wanting to meet women, regardless of their appearance.

Guys, you may want to see us in our “natural state,” what we really look like, but I’m telling you now — don’t do it. With blind dates, online hookups or anything else that involves faceless chatter before the actual meeting, don’t assume that just because you’ve had pleasant conversation that we’re ready to let you see us in our sweats or frumpy sweaters or, God forbid, sans makeup.

It ain’t happenin’.

The world of dating has changed — I get that. I can get used to the idea of meeting people online first. Getting to know someone before you actually meet them? Sure. Fine. Whatever.

But don’t even think you can take away a woman’s right to primp and “put our best face forward” when the real meeting happens.

Seriously.

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