Category: life

I’m working up a theory

Oh yes, I’ve got scientific studies to prove it too!

Soon after The Good Man and I started dating, we found we had a certain simpatico that really worked for a relationship.

See, I’m a very tactile person. I have to touch stuff. And when I have a cute boy around, I have to touch. A lot. Not in that naughty way you dirty minded readers are thinking (well, ok, that too). I mean like twirling fingers on an arm, scratching a back, and rubbing a noggin.

Come to find out, The Good Man really likes having the ol’ cabeza massaged. I can usually put him to sleep with gentle noggin rubs.

Hmmm. : puts end of pencil in mouth in a very laboratory scientist sort of way :

Ok, so then, we were at a friend’s home down on the floor playing with their twin toddlers. The girl climbed up into my lap, and I noticed the downy hair on top of her head was sticking up from static. So I took my hand and smoothed her hair flat onto her head. As I rubbed her head, her eyes rolled back into her head and she laid back in my arms.

Hmmm.

Then I was babysitting my friend’s three month old baby. The little one was fussy as heck and fighting sleep. I’d tried bottles, change the nappies, singing, rocking, the swingy chair. Nothing. So, heck, I gave the noggin a shot. I began to gently rub her little dome and before I knew it, she’d nuzzled into my neck and was snoring softly.

Well, well, well.

And THEN I saw this video on ICanHazCheezeburger.com. That toad approximates what The Good Man looks like when I issue scritchin’s.

My final piece of evidence was this past weekend at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. At the splash pool where we could pet Bat Rays, my cousin lured one over and I followed behind him to get my own shot at Bat Ray petting.

I tried to give a firm petting to the headlike lump on top of the ray and I’ll be damned if that Bat Ray didn’t keep swimming back to my hand. It would dip his head right under it like, “scratch that again, lady.”

So here’s my big theory based up by mammal and amphibian trials:

All creatures great and small like to have their noggin skritched.

I know, I know. Groundbreaking work!

Oh My Brain…

I know I have a unique view on the world sometimes.

In fact, I kind of enjoy that.

Sometimes, it wearies the people around me.

Sometimes, it even perplexes me.

An example. A few years back, I was in a department store with a friend. We were looking for a gift for another friend’s wedding. By the escalator, there was a sign. It said:

“Elevator located in China.”

I was honestly confused.

“What the hell!?” I shouted. “What good does an elevator do me all the way over in China? And where is it? Bejing? Tiananmen Square? What the sam hell??”

My patient friend pointed out…”Uh…China…you know, like plates and cups?”

“Oh. That.”

Yeah. I’m sharp as a marble.

What got me thinking about my backwards brain today was when I passed by a local church.

The sign outside declares it to be a “Transfiguration” church.

I’ve never heard of a Transfiguration church, and I’m sure it’s something quite legitimate and spiritual.

But to me, a Harry Potter reader, I can’t help but think….

As people sit there, solemnly praying, you keep hearing that *pop* sound.

The minister says, “Let us pray.”

*pop* He’s a horse.

*pop* A rabbit.

*pop* A cat.

*pop* A goat.

*pop* A donkey.

And let’s be honest, the visual image cracks me up every time.

Every single dingle time I drive past that church.

*pop*!

Hee!

Ugh, what a brain!

Forty is the new seven

Sometimes in this crazy mixed up life, you find a friend that becomes such a good friend, they actually become family. And that is a beautiful gift, truly.

And then sometimes you have a blood relative who, over time, becomes one of your very best friends.

I’m referring to a cousin on my mom’s side of the family. We met when I was seven and I think he was ten. We were simpatico from the start, sharing a similar outlook on the world.

Back then without the benefit of the internet, we were steadfast pen pals, writing pages and pages to each other about our thoughts, our dreams and of course our drama.

Over time, we graduated to email. Buckets and buckets of bits flying back and forth over the internet, keeping us connected, providing laughs, and that invaluable sort of knowledge that someone out there in the world understands.

He was there at my wedding. A year later, I was there when he staged the musical he’d written (both book and music) and produced.

We’d both helped each other get to our own day of celebration, and it was unthinkable to not be there for the other.

Anyhow, it’s a very cool friendship. Over the weekend, we got to spend some time as my cousin is paying a visit to the Bay Area.

We took off on Friday headed for the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

My mom was raised in Oregon, so once a year or so, she’d take us to visit family in Oregon, and that always included a trip to the Oregon coast.

My cousin and I bonded over years of trips to the beach, so going to the aquarium seemed utterly natural.

One of my favorite exhibits at the aquarium is the otters. I adore the otters and could stand at their tank for *hours*.

What I love is that around my cousin I can be totally ridiculous and immature. In fact, I can even revert to childhood.

So as we stood there watching an otter zip around the tank, every time the rambunctious otter swam right in front of the glass, just inches away from me, I’d utter a childlike “hi!”

Round and round. “Hi!” and “hi!”

And my cousin laughed every time.

I didn’t even feel self-conscious.

Then we got to the huge tank in the Outer Bay exhibit. When I dropped to the floor on my knees (like all the other little kids) to watch the show, he plunked down next to me with a “wooooow” (it really is a spectacular sight).

We giggled at seahorses, we petted bat rays in the touching tank (the bat rays loved my cousin), and we wooowed at the giant jellies.

Man it was a great day!

Ah to be a kid again. There are only a few people in the world who can make that feel safe for me (The Good Man is one of them).

And that just might be the meaning of life.

(loved the seahorses!)

Keep it to yourself, grandma

I remember back when I was about 25 or 26, living in Albuquerque and working at Sandia Labs. Single. Searching. Doing ok.

My older sister was also single and in her twenties, and we grew pretty close back then.

There was one day when I was staying over at her house that she and I went for a walk. We were each other’s support group, so we’d walk along and talk. We’d engage in walking therapy.

This was a chilly winter day. We walked with pink cheeks and a scarf ’round the neck.

We talked about how we both tend to have this internal dialog of snarky comments as we go through our days.

Both of us copped to it. Then my sister said something that sticks with me.

“I just worry that as I age, my ability to keep those thoughts inside will become more difficult.”

I laughed. And I agreed.

See, in our family, we have this relative. My mom’s aunt. She’s a bit infamous among the family as possessing a rather acid tongue. She didn’t even need to grow old to splat out hateful, spiteful and just plan snarky comments.

Oh, she was loyal to her family, especially her beloved brother (my grandfather) and made no bones about letting my grandmother know she wasn’t good enough. I believe she also let my dad know he wasn’t good enough for my mom.

So my sister and I both know that the genes of Aunty Snarky run deep within our DNA. We know how to turn on that frosty chill and say something cuttingly acerbic.

But as my sister pointed out, back then, we did okay keeping it inside.

Now, looking at the world through 40 years old eyes (that need vision correction), I find that my sister was entirely prophetic.

I *am* having trouble keeping that Aunty Snarky side to myself.

It’s such a push-pull of being “the nice girl” vs “oh hell, let’s just be honest.”

I recall reading one of my grandmother’s journals (after she had passed away). In it, she discussed how people always think she’s so nice, “but,” she wrote, “if they only knew.”

Well, I’m afraid I’ve surpassed “if they only knew.” They know.

Because I’ve become that cranky old broad. Only I’m not quite old enough yet to get away with it.

I say things. Out loud. (For example, the “What the f— is your problem?!?!” incident from about a month ago.)

I’ve always ranted about man’s inhumanity to man and tried to rise above it. I really have. But I guess I’ve been worn down. I guess “everybody is doing it” and so I’m no longer rising, I’m wallowing down in it.

Hoo boy. I’m not proud of it.

When I was in Las Vegas, I got busted for it too. I was standing in the narrow median of a quiet street taking a photograph. A pickup rolled by and the driver slowed and said, “I thought you were crossing the street…”

And I thought he was being an a’hole about me being in the median. I’d gotten hassled so much that day while taking photos so my hackles may have been a bit up.

I whirled on him. “Oh nice!” I yelled, “Thank you VERY much. No really, thanks for being such a nice guy!!!” I yelled sarcastically as he drove off.

Ten minutes later the guy walked up to me. “Hey, I just meant, I couldn’t tell if you were crossing the street. But then I saw your camera and I figured it out. That’s all.”

Whoooooo did I feel like a jerk. I ended up apologizing to him and we had a pretty nice conversation about photography.

You’d think that would have capped my fat mouth.

It did, only somewhat.

I’m trying.

I really am. Hard to get that horse back in the barn after all the frolicking in the fields.

It’s just…I don’t always want to be “the nice girl.”

Sometimes I think I just want to be Aunty Snarky when I grow up.

I’m so conflicted.

Just another quiet Wednesday

Yanno, not much going on today.

New product announcements from Apple, a little company you may have heard of.

And not to be outdone, Obama got up to speak tonight too. Says he’s not a quitter (he might take a page or two out of Jobs’ book about being on the ropes and making a comeback).

Turns out Brad and Angelina are still a couple. (whew! That was a close one!)

You know. Business as usual.

Just another day on the funny farm.

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 21 days.